The Last Minute by Jeff Abbott Page B

at me, waiting for her return. ‘Why did you sit with him?’
    ‘I generally ignore your American football. I thought maybe he was a bodyguard for Anna. I have talked to all the large, muscular
     men here.’ She surveyed the crowd. ‘Thin pickings. She might send a woman.’
    ‘You don’t have to work the crowd for long. We just need to get Anna up in the office, then we force her to tell us where
     my son is.’
    ‘Simple,’ Mila said.
    ‘I see no reason for this to be complicated.’
    ‘You are always such an optimist,’ Mila crossed her legs, inspected her fingernails. ‘This woman, Anna Tremaine, she tells
     you the name of the couple who bought your baby. Great. What do you do with her then? Lock her upstairs for a few days while
     we go collect your son?’
    I raised an eyebrow.
    ‘You will have to kill her, Sam.’
    ‘Your bloodthirstiness is really not appealing.’
    ‘Truth is often very ugly, like the orange dress of that woman at the bar,’ Mila said. ‘An upstairs office is not built to
     keep a hostage for the long term. And you can’t let her go. She will warn whoever bought Daniel so they can run.’
    ‘You have Mr Bell stashed away back in New York.’
    ‘No. Mr Bell’s very small brain has been plucked. He is back with his family, and now he is in our pocket when we need him.
     He is a puppet on the string for me.’
    ‘He knows we killed two men.’
    ‘Yes, so he wants to stay on my good side.’
    I let the sounds of the party rise and fall around us. ‘I have a plan.’
    ‘I am eager to hear this brilliant strategy.’
    ‘I’ll hand Anna over to the CIA. She can tell them all about her employers.’ It was certainly better than handing Mila over
     to them.
    Mila seemed to sense the direction of my thoughts.
    ‘What would you do to get your son back?’
    ‘Anything.’
    ‘Anything covers so much.’ She glanced across the bar at her neglected conquest. ‘Oh, your American football player, I left
     him uncomfortable with anticipation. He does have a nice thick neck, though. I like a thick neck. Nice to hang onto.’
    ‘That neck is not supporting a large brain.’
    ‘Ha, brains.’ Mila gave me a sideways glance. ‘Brains do not matter so much as heart, Sam.’ She pounded her chest with her
     little fist.
    ‘Look. We get Anna Tremaine upstairs to finalize our purchase. After she talks, I load her up with an anesthetic and we leave
     her locked up in the apartment. We find where Daniel is and I go get him and you keep an eye on her.’
    ‘And then what?’
    ‘We give her to August Holdwine and Special Projects and she can tell all she knows about Novem Soles.’
    ‘I have missed the exciting announcement where you have rejoined the Central Idiot Agency,’ Mila said. ‘I thought you worked
     for me.’
    ‘And what does the Round Table do with her, Mila? You just told me I’d have to murder her. Am I supposed to think you won’t?’
    ‘I’m hurt.’
    ‘The CIA won’t.’
    ‘Ah, yes. She will be their prisoner who goes on trial? No. They will make a deal with her. Protect her to talk. To tell what
     she knows. This is the way the world works. She sells your baby, she gets a plea bargain. A new life tucked away on the other
     side of the planet, in Sydney. I sometimes think half of Sydney must be people hiding from the rest of the world.’ She picked
     up my bottle of Pellegrino water, took a sip.
    ‘There’s a price on your head,’ I said.
    She stopped mid-swig. She set down the bottle of mineral water. Her gaze met mine.
    ‘Is Mila short for a million? Because that’s the price tag. Huge for a hit on someone who says she’s a nobody.’
    ‘It’s gone up,’ she said. ‘The power of compound interest.’ Then she laughed. ‘Or compound hatred.’
    ‘Mila, who wants you dead?’
    ‘Besides you?’
    ‘Don’t joke. Don’t joke at all about this.’
    She took another long drink from the Pellegrino bottle. ‘It doesn’t matter, Sam.’
    ‘I believe it