The Last Minute

85

Zviman opened his phone, as he had done every thirty minutes for the past two hours. He pressed a number. When Anna answered he said, ‘Pericles. Yes, all is well.’ He clicked shut the phone.

My fist slammed against him hard, then I grabbed his head and pounded it against the steering wheel.

Leonie screamed, ‘What are you doing, what are you doing?’

The BMW veered across its lanes, narrowly missing a semi that laid on its horn like a stuttering war cry. It is very hard to fight a man one-handed.

‘I know where we’re going,’ I yelled at her. ‘He can be our hostage to get the kids.’

Then she understood. Leonie snaked her arm around Zviman’s throat and levered back. He gagged and spat, arching in the seat. I hit the brake with my foot and levered up the parking brake. The BMW howled and bucked but we stopped. I took my good hand and pounded five blows into his sorry face. It felt good. He finally sagged, beaten, out.

‘Oh, God, oh, God,’ Leonie said. Panic jagged her voice.

‘Listen to me. I know where we’re going now. The company that was a front for the sisters, for the house in New Jersey. I looked them up. They owned another retreat off this highway, about five more miles up. That’s where we’re going. And now we can trade the kids for him.’

‘What if you’re wrong?’ Leonie said. ‘Oh, God. What if you’re wrong?’

I hauled the unconscious Zviman into the back seat. ‘Drive,’ I told Leonie. I accessed the Associated Languages School website. ‘North about four miles, then turn onto Mountain Bridge Road.’

‘If we drive up into a bunch of execs learning Spanish, I’m going to kill you, Sam.’ Her voice was a ragged, broken shock.

‘I’ll kill myself,’ I said.