Eddie hauled him across the room. ‘You’re going out of the fucking window!’
‘No, Eddie!’ said Nina, as Penrose gasped in fear. ‘Let him go!’
He angrily released the other man. The sweating Penrose straightened his glasses before stammering out a reply. ‘I – I know it was my fault, I know. I’m sorry. As I said, I had no choice.’
‘You’re still responsible, though. There’s no way I can let this pass. The UN’s got to be told – it’s more than just a breach of confidence, it’s a breach of security that’s gotten our people killed.’ She was trembling with a cold fury as she jabbed her finger at him again. ‘You’ll go to jail for this.’
Penrose took a long, deep breath. ‘I . . . will resign my position and turn myself in to the authorities as soon as we’re finished here,’ he said, voice quavering. ‘I always thought this might happen, sooner or later. But you do know that the Group will never allow their existence to be publicly exposed. They’ll either make this go away before it can get close to coming to trial . . . or they’ll make me go away.’
‘Unless you only tell them about Glas’s side of things,’ Nina suggested. ‘I doubt he’ll voluntarily come to court to defend his character.’
He considered this. ‘It would all technically be true, I suppose . . . yes, you’re right. But before any of that, there’s something we have to do first.’
She regarded the case. ‘Destroy the statues.’
‘About fucking time,’ said Eddie. ‘I’ll get a hammer.’
He started for the door, but before he was halfway there the phone rang. Nina was tempted to leave it, but there was an outside possibility that it might be Glas. She picked it up. ‘Yes?’
‘Nina, Larry Chase’s wife is on the line,’ said Lola.
‘Tell her to call back.’
‘I . . . I think you should talk to her.’
The worry in her voice changed Nina’s mind. ‘Okay, put her through.’
The click of a switching line, then: ‘Hello? Nina, hello?’ Julie Chase – on the verge of panic.
‘Julie, what is it?’ Nina asked. She hurriedly put the phone on speaker. ‘Are you okay?’
‘Yes, I’m okay, but – it’s Larry!’
‘What about him?’ said Eddie, giving his wife a look of concern.
‘I just got home, and – and somebody’s broken into the house, it looks like there’s been a fight. And there’s a note, someone left a note. It said that I had to call you, Nina.’
She was startled. ‘Me?’
‘What’s going on?’ cried Julie, almost in tears. ‘Where’s Larry, what’s happened to him?’
‘Julie,’ Eddie said, ‘this note – what does it say, exactly?’
‘It – it says that if I want to see my husband again, I have to call Nina and give her . . .’
‘Give her what? Julie!’
‘There’s a phone number,’ came the words between sobs. ‘It says I have to tell you to call it.’
‘Read it out to us,’ said Nina, getting a pen.
Julie recited it. ‘Swiss number,’ Eddie told Nina quietly, recognising the first few digits. ‘Julie, listen – we think we know what’s going on, but we’re going to have to hang up so we can call this number.’
‘You know where Larry is?’
‘No, but I think we know who’s got him. We’re going to ring the number to see if he’s okay. All right?’
‘What should I do?’ she wailed. ‘Should I call the police?’
‘I don’t think they’ll be much help,’ Nina said grimly. Like Eddie, she already had a very strong suspicion about who was responsible, and that Larry would by now be beyond the reach of conventional law enforcement. ‘Julie, we’ll call you right back, okay?’
‘Can – can you get him back home?’
‘I hope so.’ She disconnected, then started to dial the number Julie had given her.
‘What about the statues?’ Penrose asked nervously. ‘We still need to destroy them . . .’
Nina waved him to silence as the call was answered by a clipped English voice. ‘Hello, Nina. And Chase, I assume you’re there too.’
‘Stikes,’ Nina replied with distaste. ‘What do you want?’
‘I’m sure you already know. Thank you for calling me so promptly, by the way. Mr Warden was getting a little concerned that he hadn’t heard back from you. So I decided to encourage you to reach a decision.’
‘Where’s Larry?’ she demanded.
‘Safe. For now. He’s a little bruised, perhaps, but then my men did warn him not to resist.’ A small chuckle. ‘I considered taking Chase’s niece or sister, but then I decided I preferred the irony of using someone he can’t stand – but won’t be able to allow to come to harm either.’
Eddie stepped up to the desk. ‘I’m going to fucking kill you for this, Stikes.’
‘I doubt that. But I’m sure your father will be absolutely delighted to know that you care enough to threaten murder for him. Anyway, enough of the pleasantries – we have business to discuss. I do hope for Larry’s sake that you have the statues, and haven’t done anything foolish like damage them.’
‘And what if we have?’
‘Then I have no further use for your father, and I never carry dead weight. Come on, Chase, stop being obtuse. Do you have the statues?’
‘Yes,’ Nina admitted.
‘Excellent. Now, since the Group needs you as well for them to be of any use, here’s what’s going to happen. I’ll send you an email shortly, telling you where I want you to meet me tomorrow. Just you, Nina – Chase is very definitely not invited, and there will be, shall we say, unfortunate consequences for his father if I see him. Bring the statues with you, and Larry will be released.’
‘How do we know you’ll let him go?’ she asked.
‘You don’t, obviously. But you do know what will happen to him if you don’t do what I say. I never make idle threats. As I’m sure you must be aware by now.’
Nina looked helplessly at Eddie. Delivering the statues – and herself – to the Group was a course that could lead to disaster. But refusal would certainly mean Larry’s death. Stikes had already proved himself utterly ruthless in the past, and now that he was working for the Group he undoubtedly considered himself to be untouchable for his crimes. ‘What do we do?’ she silently mouthed.
Face tight with frustration, Eddie whispered, ‘Go along with him for now.’
‘Are you sure?’
He nodded as Stikes spoke again. ‘Well? Do I at least get the courtesy of an answer?’
‘I’ll bring the statues to you,’ Nina said, to Penrose’s dismay.
‘I’m glad to hear it. I’ll send you the details now. Oh, and Nina?’ Smug amusement filled the former officer’s voice. ‘Wrap up warmly.’
28
Switzerland
In better weather, the little ski resort of Chandère would have been beautiful. Backed by majestic peaks, with long flowing slopes running down to the woods around the traditional houses of pale stone and dark timber, it was an almost postcard-perfect representation of the idealised Alpine village. Adding to its picturesque quality was the narrow-gauge steam railway that ran along the valley, connecting it to other equally attractive tourist destinations.
Conditions today, though, were far from their best. Low clouds blotted out the mountain-tops, a stiff, freezing wind driving snowflakes along like tiny knives of ice. The lack of sunlight draped a dismal pall over everything, flattening the scene almost to two dimensions. Even the jolly, toy-like locomotive seemed affected by the gloom, wheezing and straining to pull its carriages into the station.
The train finally clanked to a stop, sooty smoke swirling around the handful of disembarking passengers. Nina was among them, wearing a winter coat and woolly hat to protect herself from the cold. She was carrying a case, but unlike those of the other tourists, hers did not contain the accoutrements of a skiing holiday.
Instead, it held the three sta
tues.
Stikes was waiting for her at the station’s exit, leaning casually against a wall. ‘Dr Wilde! Glad you could make it.’
‘Cut the crap, Stikes,’ she snapped. ‘Where’s Larry?’
‘Where are the statues?’ She held up the case. ‘Good. Although you won’t mind if I check, will you?’
Nina opened the case to reveal the trio of purple figurines within. ‘Satisfied?’
‘For the moment.’ He signalled to two large men standing nearby, who quickly marched to join him. ‘Follow me.’
She expected to be taken to a car, but Stikes instead headed for a tall and boxy building down the street. A cable-car station, steel lines rising up into the murk above the village. ‘Where are we going?’
‘I’m sure the Chandère tourist board will be very disappointed that you don’t know,’ Stikes said amiably. ‘We’re going to the Blauspeer hotel; it’s apparently quite famous. Exclusive, too. It’s one of the Group’s regular haunts for their meetings.’
‘Gee, with a recommendation like that, I’ll book next year’s vacation while I’m here.’
They entered the building. There was a sign on the door; Nina didn’t know sufficient German to translate the whole text, but picked out enough to gather that the hotel served by the aerial tramway was currently closed to the public. The Group had presumably booked the entire place, wanting privacy.
Stikes spoke briefly to a man inside a control booth, then led Nina and his two goons to the waiting gondola. She looked past it up the mountainside. Little was visible through the clouds and blowing snow. Her destination was effectively isolated from the rest of the world. She shivered.
The Englishman opened the cabin door for her. ‘Cold? Get in, it’ll be warmer.’
‘You’re the perfect gentleman,’ she said with a sneer as she entered. Stikes merely smirked and joined her, his men doing the same. A gesture to the booth from the former SAS officer, and the cable car lurched into motion.
Pointedly turning her back on Stikes, Nina went to the front window as the gondola began its ascent. A few buildings passed below, then the woods at the bottom of the hill. The best of the mountain’s ski runs were apparently reserved for the hotel’s residents, a low fence above the railroad separating the rising slopes from the village. The Blauspeer had other attractions than downhill skiing, however; a long luge track coiled down through the trees separating two of the ski runs. There were also what looked like target ranges for biathlon contestants.
‘I should ask the obvious question while we have the time,’ said Stikes. ‘Where’s your husband?’
‘In New York.’
‘No, he’s not. He’s in Switzerland – he took a different flight from you, but I know he’s here.’ His voice became flinty. ‘I warned you what would happen to his father if he tried to interfere.’
‘But he hasn’t interfered, has he? The only reason he’s here is to make sure we get out of the country safely.’ She glanced back at his two silent companions. ‘I’m assuming you’ve got more than just these two clowns watching the place. You’d know if he were in town.’
‘I know Chase,’ said Stikes. ‘He’s not the kind to sit around and wait.’ He looked out into the grey blankness obscuring the mountains. ‘He’s here, somewhere.’
‘If you think so, why don’t you try to make me tell you?’
‘Normally I would, as I’m sure you remember. But I have my orders, so my hands are tied . . . for the moment.’ A small, nasty smile.
Nina turned away again. The ride continued for a couple more minutes before a large, blocky shape finally loomed into view ahead. The Blauspeer hotel stood on relatively flat ground part-way up the mountain, the upper cable-car station actually built into one wing near the start of the luge track. The building looked quite old, timber-framed beneath its high, steeply sloping roof, but Nina suspected its facilities would be ultra-modern and luxurious. An ice-skating rink and an outdoor café overlooking the valley came into view as the cable car approached the end of its climb; considering the conditions, both were unsurprisingly deserted.
The gondola stopped. Stikes, feigning politeness, ushered Nina out. Even inside the station, the wind was stronger and colder than in the village, cutting through her coat. She hurried towards the glass doors leading to the hotel proper.
Warden waited in the expansive lobby beyond. ‘Dr Wilde,’ he said. ‘Welcome. I’m so glad you agreed to come.’
Her voice was as icy as the conditions outside. ‘I wasn’t exactly given a lot of choice.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Don’t pretend you don’t know.’ She jabbed a thumb at Stikes. ‘Your errand boy kidnapped my father-in-law and threatened to kill him if I didn’t bring you the statues.’
‘What?’ He looked at Stikes in genuine surprise. ‘Is this true?’
‘You told me to bring Dr Wilde and the statues here,’ Stikes replied smoothly. ‘I chose the most expeditious way to make sure that happened.’
Warden’s mouth twisted angrily. ‘I wanted her to come here willingly!’ he barked. ‘You idiot!’ Ignoring Stikes’s affronted expression, he turned back to Nina. ‘Dr Wilde, I apologise for this – this outrage. I assure you, I had absolutely no idea that Stikes would exceed his authority like this.’
‘Maybe you should have done what I said and fired him,’ said Nina.
Still fuming, Warden glared at Stikes. ‘Where is he now?’
The Englishman composed himself. ‘He’s in the hotel, and perfectly safe.’
‘Is he a guest or a prisoner?’ asked Nina pointedly.
‘Make sure it’s the former,’ said Warden. ‘Now get out of my sight!’
Stikes stiffened, offering a terse ‘Yes, sir’ as he and his two men headed for the nearby elevators.
Warden muttered something unflattering as he watched them leave, then addressed Nina. ‘Again, I apologise. You’re an absolutely vital part of what the Group hopes to achieve, and I want you to be completely free in your decision to join us. I hope Stikes’s stupidity hasn’t affected that. I’ll make sure your father-in-law is freed, and fully compensated for whatever inconvenience and distress he’s been caused.’
‘I’m sure he’ll appreciate that,’ said Nina. Warden didn’t seem to detect her undercurrent of sarcasm – though she couldn’t help noticing that he was so arrogant as to assume that she would agree to go along with the Group, no matter what. ‘As for what Stikes has done, I don’t think that’ll have much effect on my decision.’
‘I’m very happy to hear that.’ Again, the financier failed to pick up on her not-exactly-buried subtext. ‘In that case, if you’ll come with me, I’ll introduce you to the Group.’
Eddie gazed through the binoculars, holding one gloved hand above the lenses to ward off the blowing snow. ‘So that’s the hotel? Looks like it should have Jack Nicholson as the caretaker.’
He and the group of eight men with him, in white camouflage gear and balaclava masks, were at the top of a ridge about three-quarters of a mile from the Blauspeer hotel and several hundred feet higher. At this distance through the obscuring conditions, the building was barely more than a silhouette against the clouded valley, its shape defined more by its lights than by detailed features.
But Eddie could still see enough to tell that it was heavily guarded. Figures patrolled the grounds, making sure that the hotel’s reclusive VIP guests maintained their privacy.
They were about to be gatecrashed.
His companions were some of Glas’s loyal employees, a retinue of European security personnel urgently assembled on the billionaire’s orders while Eddie was on the flight to Switzerland. A helicopter had made a risky flight into the thickening clouds to drop them on the other side of the mountain, out of sight of the hotel, so they could traverse a pass and approach from a direction that would – in theory – be more lightly guarded. He didn’t know how good the men were, but had been assured that all were ex-military, willing and able to accompli
sh their mission.
That assurance was about to be tested. He tilted the binoculars down to the mountainside below. It was one of the hotel’s slopes – a black run, steep and potentially dangerous, even deadly, to anyone not an expert skier. The poles of a ski lift were visible off to one side, but it was not running. The only way down was to ski.
Eddie had done a considerable amount of that during his SAS training, but mostly cross-country rather than downhill, and it had been some years since he had been on a skiing holiday. Now that he thought about it, the last time had been during his marriage to Sophia, over seven years before. Christ, where had the time gone? He hoped he hadn’t become too rusty.
He would find out soon enough. The already grim sky was steadily darkening as evening drew in. They would have to move quickly – not least because Nina would be inside by now.
He continued his sweep of the slope. Before setting out, he had surveyed the area using online aerial photos; as expected, he spotted a small building at the bottom of the ski lift. It was the perfect place for a guard to find respite from the wind . . .
‘Thermal,’ he said. A man produced a device resembling a compact video camera and handed it to him. Eddie switched it on and peered through the eyepiece at the hut.
Someone was there, a humanoid shape in bright blues, yellows and reds standing out against the cold grey blankness of the snow. He panned the thermal imager across the vista below. More figures popped out from their surroundings, some standing watch in the shelter of buildings and trees, others trudging through the open along well-trodden patrol routes. ‘How many guards?’ asked one of the men.
‘I count, let’s see . . . four at the bottom of the slope, and another eight or nine nearer the hotel.’ Even through the thermal imager, it was impossible to miss that all the guards were armed with MP5 sub-machine guns. He gave the gadget back to its owner, who conducted his own scan while Eddie checked the sky. Conditions were steadily worsening, the wind-driven snow getting thicker as the landscape dropped deeper into shadow. ‘Okay, get ready.’