The New Girl (Gabriel Allon #19)(46)

Much to Gabriel’s relief, he had to endure a wait of only twenty minutes before being proven at least partially correct. The instructions were delivered by a recorded text-to-speech message, in the manner of a spam call. The voice was female, cheerful, and vaguely erotic. It said that Gabriel and the former crown prince were to board the noon TGV from Paris to Marseilles. Additional instructions would be conveyed while they were in transit. They were not to involve the French police. Nor were they to travel with a security detail. Any deviation from the instructions would result in the child’s death. “You are being watched,” the voice warned before the connection went dead.

The terms were hardly equitable, but under the circumstances they were the best Gabriel could expect. Besides, he had no intention of honoring them, and neither for that matter did the kidnappers.

Khalid arranged for a hotel limousine. As they crawled eastward across Paris, they were jeered, cursed, and spat upon by the yellow-vested protesters. Tear gas stung their eyes as they hurried through the entrance of the Gare de Lyon. Mikhail and Keller were standing like strangers beneath the departure board, each looking in a different direction.

Khalid gazed upward toward the glass atrium in wonder. “Wasn’t there a terrorist attack in this station a few years ago?”

“Keep moving,” said Gabriel. “Otherwise, we’re going to miss our train.”

“There’s the memorial,” said Khalid suddenly, pointing toward a black slab of polished granite.

The departure board clattered with an update. The train for Marseilles was boarding. Gabriel led Khalid to an automated ticket kiosk and instructed him to purchase two first-class seats. Khalid stared at the contraption, mystified.

“I’m not sure I would know—”

“Never mind.” Gabriel slid a credit card into the reader. His fingers moved deftly over the touchscreen, and the machine ejected two tickets and a receipt.

“What now?” asked Khalid.

“We get on the train.”

Gabriel guided Khalid to the appropriate platform and into a first-class carriage. Mikhail was seated at one end, Keller at the other. Both were facing the center, which was where Gabriel directed Khalid. The carriage was about one-third full. None of the other passengers appeared to realize that the man who had just relinquished his claim to the throne of Saudi Arabia was sitting among them.

“You know,” he said quietly into Gabriel’s ear, “I can’t remember the last time I took a train journey. Do you travel by rail often?”

“No,” said Gabriel as the TGV jerked forward. “Never.”



For the first three hours of the trip south, Khalid’s silenced phone vibrated almost without cease, but the kidnappers waited until the train reached Avignon before issuing their next set of instructions. Once again there was no name or number, only the automated female voice. She told Gabriel to hire a car at the Gare de Marseilles–Saint-Charles and drive to the ancient citadel town of Carcassonne. There was a pizzeria on the avenue du Général Leclerc called Plein Sud. They would drop the girl somewhere nearby. “And don’t bring the two bodyguards,” the voice warned flirtatiously. “Otherwise, the girl dies.”

Gabriel rang King Saul Boulevard and ordered two Hertz cars, one for Mikhail and Keller, the other for Khalid and himself. They were both Renault hatchbacks. Mikhail and Keller departed first and headed north toward Aix-en-Provence. Gabriel headed westward along the coast, into the blinding late-afternoon sun.

Khalid trailed a forefinger through the dust on the dashboard. “At least they could have given us a clean car.”

“I should have told them it was for you. I’m sure they would have found something nicer.”

“Why did you send your men toward Aix?”

“To see whether the kidnappers will be stupid enough to follow them.”

“And if they do?”

“They’re likely to get a rather rude surprise. And our chances of getting out of this in one piece will increase dramatically.”

Khalid was admiring the sea. “Beautiful, isn’t it?”

“I’m sure it looks better from the deck of the world’s largest yacht.”

“Second largest,” Khalid corrected him.

“We all have to economize.”

“I suppose I’ll be spending much more time aboard it. Riyadh is no longer safe for me. And when my father dies—”

“The new crown prince will treat you the same way you treated your predecessor and everyone else who posed a threat to you.”

“That’s the way it works in my family. We give the word dysfunction a whole new meaning.” Khalid smiled in spite of himself. “I plan to devote the rest of my life to Reema. She loves Tranquillity. Perhaps we’ll take a trip around the world together.”

“She’s going to need a great deal of medical and psychiatric care to recover from what she’s been through.”

“You sound as though you speak from experience.”

“Read my file.”

“I have,” said Khalid. “It contained a reference to something that happened in Vienna. There was a bombing. They say—”

“This might come as a surprise to you, but it’s not something I wish to discuss.”