Part 30 (1/2)

”Is there another way out?”

”Through the office,” Florin said. ”There's a fire door.”

”Where's your car?”

”In the car park.”

”Keys?”

”In my jacket pocket. Hanging up over there.”

There was a large padded leather jacket on a hat stand in the corner of the lobby. Milton took it and emptied the pockets: he found a bunch of keys, a wallet and a mobile phone.

He held the phone out. ”Pa.s.scode?”

Florin recited a six-figure combination and, when Milton entered it, the phone unlocked.

”Your father's number?”

”The last number I called.”

Milton scrolled to the relevant page and saw an outgoing call from earlier that day. The call was credited to BABA.

He put the items back into the pockets, slipped the jacket on, opened the door, and made his way into the office. The room was dark. There was a single window, but it was covered by a blind and it was dusk outside. There was a single desk with a PC, a keyboard and a mouse, together with a neatly arranged tray of stationery. Milton paused, collected a stapler and slid it into his pocket. He crossed to a door that was opened with a panic bar. Milton edged up to the door and, with the pistol in his right hand, he reached out with his left and pushed down on the bar.

The door swung open. There was a car park outside. A black BMW 750 was parked ten feet away. It was the only vehicle that he could see. He waited for a moment, looking up and down the street beyond the car park. The undertaker's was screened by a wall and several neatly trimmed trees, and he could see a row of illuminated awnings and the occasional car that pa.s.sed by. He didn't recognise the location.

Hicks brought Florin to the door.

There was no sign of anyone outside. No sign that anyone was observing him. No sign that Pasko was still here.

Milton reached for the keys and blipped the lock. The BMW's lights flashed and, with a second press, the powered tailgate began to rise.

Milton ducked down and hurried outside. He made it to the car without incident. Pasko was long gone.

He looked into the trunk. It was s.p.a.cious and offered more than enough room for Florin.

He turned back and gestured that Hicks should bring Florin outside. Milton helped him to manoeuvre the bigger man inside, arranging him so that he was lying on his side with his knees up against his chest and his wrists behind his back. Milton closed the boot and got into the front of the car. Hicks slid in next to him.

”We need to set up an exchange,” Milton said. ”Nadia for Florin.”

”You trust Pasko?”

”No. But he's lost one son. You think he wants to lose the other?”

”I doubt it. Are you going to call him?”

”His number's in Florin's phone.”

”Where are you going to suggest?”

”I've got an idea.”

Chapter Fifty-Six.

MILTON DROVE for ten minutes until he was well away from the undertaker's. He parked at the side of the road and took out Florin's phone. He entered the pa.s.scode, navigated to the phone menu, and flicked through until he had the number for BABA. He pressed dial.

The call rang three times before it was answered.

”Florin?”

”Milton.”

Pasko paused before he responded. ”It appears that I owe you an apology, Mr. Milton. You are a resourceful man. I underestimated you.”

”You wouldn't be the first.”

”Perhaps. But I have something that you want. The girl. She is here, with me. It will be a simple thing to punish her for the inconvenience that she has caused.”

”Florin might have a different view about that.”

There was no response. Milton could hear the hush of traffic on the other end of the line. Milton waited for Pasko to speak.

”What do you propose?”

”An exchange.”

”My son for the wh.o.r.e?”

”That's right.”

There was another pause as Pasko considered the offer. ”I need to speak to Florin,” he said.

”No,” Milton said. ”He's alive. You'll have to trust me.”

”Then there will be no exchange.”

”I'm not a fool, Pasko. I don't speak Albanian. I don't want him telling you something that might be unhelpful to me. You know I want the girl. I know you want him. I don't have a hand to play if he's dead.”

There was no response. He heard the m.u.f.fled sound of a car horn and then the sound of voices.

”Fine,” Pasko said. ”We will meet. Florin for the wh.o.r.e. Where?”