Zaid kept scanning the crowd. Eagerly, nervously. He craned his neck around when groups walked alongside the Eurostar. Waves of people came and went. A crowd to my left was getting a bit loud, fueled by a magnum of champagne. Zaid kept glancing toward them. I turned away. I couldn’t risk him seeing my face.

“Do you still have him?” I said into the mic.

“Yes,” Mila said into my ear.

“He’s nervous, constantly scanning the crowd. I can’t risk him seeing me.”

“You don’t think you should just go up and speak to him?”

“Not if he’s getting Yasmin back. Edward could see me.”

“You are afraid of Edward?”

“I am afraid he’ll kill Yasmin if he spots me,” I said.

Mila said nothing, but I could almost hear her sneer.

I felt a tap on my shoulder. I turned. Bahjat Zaid looked as though he meant to stagger toward his death bed: sweating, pale, mouth twisted into an angry tremble.

“Get the hell out of here,” he said. “You must leave. Now.”

“Is Edward bringing Yasmin here?”

“I am ordering you to leave,” he hissed.

“I know you’ve given Edward weapons for keeping his videos of Yasmin’s crime spree to himself. Are you swapping your snazzy briefcase for your daughter?”

He looked as though he might vomit on my shoes. “Leave. Now.”

“Answer me and maybe I will.”

“I give them the bag, they give me Yasmin, and this nightmare is done.”

“What’s in the briefcase?”

“Cash. Nothing more.”

“After all this, they just want some cash? What did you give them in Budapest, Mr. Zaid? What experimental weapons?”

Pure hatred came into his eyes. “Your services are no longer required. I will have my daughter back and she is safe. No one can talk about her now. They will be here at any moment. They could be watching us now. You being here may cost me my daughter’s life.” He so badly wanted to scream at me. To punch me. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t draw attention to us.

“You yell and bring the cops down on us, and I’ll tell them everything your daughter has done since they grabbed her.” He stared; I think he was too stunned that I was here, or unsure of his next step. “You lied to me, you lied to Mila. And when we needed you, to help your own daughter, you hid from us.”

“I did what was necessary. If you ever wanted to help Yasmin, you will go. Now.”

I took a tiny sip from the flute, to show I had no intention of vacating my seat. “I might get up and leave, or I might not. Cooperate and I’ll play along with you. Who’s coming? Edward?”

He nodded as though it cost him physical pain. “Yes. I was told you were dead.”

“Then he won’t be expecting me, will he? Go back to your seat at the bar, Zaid. You’ve got champagne to toast getting your daughter back. Shouldn’t you be rushing her home?”

“I am taking Yasmin to a psychiatric center where she can be cared for, where she can forget all she was forced to do.”

“I wish you luck.”

“Leave. This is suicide for us both. This Edward—he is both insane and calculating. You can’t beat him. I beg you.”

“Go sit yourself down. Right now.” My voice was cold and measured.

He retreated, slowly, unused to the idea that here was someone he could not get rid of. He returned to his spot at the bar and sat down. He made a production of not looking at me. I moved to another part of the bar, farther from the entrance and from Zaid, so I couldn’t be easily noticed.

How much backup could Edward and Lucy have here? I had to assume they had contacts to help them in London. But if they were arriving on the Eurostar… what, with Yasmin in tow? No. Yasmin would be squirreled away somewhere, and Zaid was trading the briefcase for that location.

“Did Zaid signal to anyone else in here?” I asked into the microphone. He could have his own security backup, after all.

“Not that I saw,” Mila said.

He wasn’t taking any chances with his daughter’s life. Except that I’d changed the math.

Twenty minutes passed. Champagne drinkers came and went. Friends met, lovers toasted, business types dealt. A low, constant murmur of talk, broken by the happy pop of corks leaving bottles at velocity. In my ear, Mila sang Coldplay songs, bored, until I asked her to stop. He kept a glass of champagne in front of him, and another glass across the table. Zaid kept eyeing his watch, as if willing Yasmin to appear.

And then she did. I saw her before Zaid did. She was walking unsteadily, as though she’d been doped. Edward held her arm; he was almost holding her up. Half of Yasmin’s face was hidden by a scarf.

I glanced around the bar. There might be backup here, but it wasn’t Zaid’s.

Behind me, Lucy.

80

SHE SAT AT MY BOOTH. And for one second I thought she would kill me where I sat.

“You are a bad father,” Lucy said. “I told you if you want the baby, back off.”

“Irony is wasted on you,” I said.

“You’re going to make things difficult for me, aren’t you, Sam?”

“You don’t know difficult.”

“Don’t open fire here, Sam. So many innocent people. Not to mention expensive, easily broken champagne bottles.”

“Edward thinks I’m dead.”

“Not anymore. He’s seen you. You will let this exchange happen, or I will never tell you where Daniel is.”

“Daniel.” The name cut like a knife.

“Our son. I named him for your brother, like I said we should.”

I felt my heart shift in my chest.

“Don’t interfere,” she said.

“What is Zaid giving you for his daughter?” Now, thirty feet away, Edward and Yasmin approached Zaid. They stood by the booth, facing him.

“He’s giving us,” Lucy said, “everything he’s worked for in his life. You could learn a lesson here, Sam. He’s doing whatever it takes to protect his child. Back off and Daniel will be yours.”

Yasmin blinked, heavily. The scarf hid the rest of her face.

Zaid handed Edward the case. Edward spoke softly and Yasmin sat beside her father, sagging into the booth. Edward remained standing.

“Stay in your seat, Sam, and I’ll tell you where Daniel is. Don’t interfere,” Lucy said.

Edward turned and hurried away, carrying the case. Zaid embraced his daughter. She seemed very small in his arms. She did not hug him back.

“Reunions are lovely,” Lucy said, and I wanted to tell her to shut the hell up. “You and your son can have a reunion, too. Just stay seated.” She leaned forward, plucked the tiny earpiece from my ear, and crushed it under her boot. “Who are you working with?”

“A crazy woman. I only say that because now she can’t hear us.”

“Sam, come with me. Daniel is very close. I can give him to you now. And then we’re done.”

She’d protected me twice before. I so wanted to believe she’d just give me my son. That, I know, is the definition of both optimism and insanity.

I glanced back. Zaid still held Yasmin, heaving in the massive relief that his child was safe.

Yasmin kept her scarf over the bottom of her face. They sat, perhaps waiting for Edward to clear the area. I remembered that no one knew Yasmin was missing. She nodded once in answer to words her father spoke. Tears ran down Zaid’s face.

“I can get you immunity,” I said. “You could negotiate a deal. You don’t have to keep running. Is that going to be your life now? Dodging and hiding?”

“Immunity? That’s a laugh. I made my choices, Sam. I know that.” I heard a catch in her voice, for the first time, a prick of regret.

Zaid held his daughter’s hand. He picked up the champagne glass and drank it dry, a nervous gesture. Yasmin stayed still as stone. I couldn’t imagine the levels of therapy she’d need to get her life back.

“Lucy. Why would you turn your back on your whole world?”