Strangers: A Novel(101)

“It seems your fiancée doesn’t want you at our nice little get-together. But I do.” He makes it sound like an invitation to go for lunch. “Where are you right now?”

I feel unbridled rage boil up within me. That bastard tried to kill me, several times. And now he’s got Joanna. For the first time in my life I feel like I want to cause someone pain. Terrible pain. “Sure, like I’m really going to tell you.”

“That’s fine. Then let’s do this another way, your location doesn’t matter. I’ll give you … let’s say fifteen minutes to show up here. If you’re not here with us by then, you needn’t bother coming at all, at least not where Joanna is concerned. Now listen up, I’ll tell you how to get to where we are.”

“No, wait. I’m near the airport, fifteen minutes won’t be enough.”

“Well, well. Near the airport. What are you doing there?”

“When Jo didn’t show up again, I thought she might already be here,” I lie. “We were going to fly out today.”

Gabor is silent for a while, during which I feel sick with fear, then he speaks again. “I’ll be expecting you in half an hour. We’re in a warehouse at the edge of town. You can definitely make it in time.”

He describes the route, speaking slowly and with pointed clarity. He gives me the address right at the end. I mentally repeat it three times. “Oh, and Erik … I find the phrase rather childish because those dim-witted crooks on TV always use it, but I don’t know how else to put it. If you call the police, your fiancée’s dead.” Then, the signal tone. He hung up.

“That was Gabor,” I say, and lower the phone. “He kidnapped Jo, and he’s demanded that I go to him. Within half an hour. He’ll kill her if I don’t.”

“Would he do that?”

I nod. “Yes, I think he would. He said that he’ll also kill her if I call the police.”

The corners of Gavin’s mouth turn downward. “No, no police. Not yet. We’ll deal with this. Can you make it there in half an hour?”

“Yes, I think I can.”

“Good.” He takes a pen from the inside pocket of his jacket, opens the glove compartment, and pulls the car instruction manual out of a leather file. He swiftly tears off the cover sheet and holds it out toward me. “The address. Write it down. And your telephone number. When you’re done, get going, I’ll call you.”

“And what are you—”

“Write. Now.”

While I’m doing what Gavin demanded, he turns around to face the two men in the back seat of the car.

“Call Riley. Everyone except the pilot out at once. Full equipment. And we need three vehicles. I expect us to set off in five minutes. Let’s go.”

As the men slam the doors shut behind them, I hand the sheet back to Gavin. He takes a quick look at it and nods. “Now, you’re going to drive to the place and do everything just as this Gabor guy asked you to. We’ll be following you in a few minutes’ time. I’m going to call you while you’re on the way, and then you’re going to explain to me in detail why this Gabor guy kidnapped Jo. And what type of a person he is. Clear?”

My mind is in such turmoil that nothing’s really clear anymore, but I hope I’ve understood him. My instinct tells me the best plan is to follow Gavin’s instructions. He, as opposed to me, obviously knows his way around situations like these.

He gets out of the car; I start the engine and drive. On the highway toward Munich, I key the address into the navigation system. The device is set to English. Of course.

Twenty-four minutes to my destination, the display informs me. Thank goodness.

When Gavin calls me, he’s en route as well. I hurriedly tell him what I know about Gabor, which is obviously not as much as I thought I knew about him, not by a long shot. I tell him about the attempts to kill us, about the email I saw on Gabor’s computer. And about the explosion at the train station.

Gavin asks me how many people Gabor has at his disposal. But how am I supposed to know that?

By now I’ve reached the periphery of Munich. The GPS is showing just under a mile to go before reaching the destination. I enter some kind of industrial area. Rows of auto repair shops and car dealerships of every brand, a large metalworking shop, a bathroom fittings company. Larger and smaller warehouses in between, unmarked, windowless.

Eight hundred and fifty more yards. No more car dealerships here. Just warehouses.

I try to picture what will await me when I get there. Are they going to beat me down once I’m trapped? I break out in a sweat. The closer I get to my destination, the more difficult I’m finding it to think straight. It’s the fear. It’s taking control of me more and more, threatening to paralyze my mind entirely. All of me, my entire being is screaming at me, telling me to turn around, to put as much distance between myself and Gabor as I can, and to do it as quickly as possible.

But, Joanna. She’s completely at the bastard’s mercy. No. I’m not going to run, no way. I manage to stifle my fear, to make room for anger at Gabor and his henchmen. Those fuckers.

Another three hundred feet. I glance at my watch. I got through the traffic OK, and have six minutes left until the half hour runs out. I stop the car, pull out my phone, dial the last number.

“I’m here,” I say when Gavin takes the call after a single ring. “What should I do now?”