to call at first, but then I remembered that Harald had a residence in Switzerland for tax reasons. I had no idea whether or not he would actually be there, but as it turned out, he was.”
“So he came and rescued you,” said Nina. “Even knowing what you’d done—that you tried to nuke New York?”
“The human heart is a very forgiving thing.”
“Like you’d know,” Eddie scoffed.
“Cynicism is so unattractive in a man, Eddie. Up here.” They reached a flight of stairs to the next deck. Eddie checked the passage and nearby doorways, but so far it appeared that Glas had been true to his word and ordered the crew to stay out of their way. They ascended. “But he got me medical treatment, without telling the authorities that I was still alive, and then for a while I was his …” She hesitated, as if her mouth had suddenly gone dry. “His guest. But,” she continued, brushing the odd pause aside, “you know me, I do dislike being out of the loop. So I persuaded Harald to let me get more involved in his work. Which is when I learned that he was a member of the Group.”
“I gather they weren’t happy when they found out Glas had been protecting you,” said Nina, remembering their conversation with Travis Warden.
“They were not,” Sophia replied, sounding amused by the fact. “At first, they wanted me dead. Fortunately, Harald has always been something of an iconoclast, so he stood up to the rest of the Group. Then, and now. He split from them over a matter of conscience.”
“Some conscience,” Eddie said scathingly. “Seeing as he wants Nina dead.”
She gave them a saccharine smile. “Every cloud, as they say. But I’ll let him explain his reasons himself.”
They continued down another hallway along the upper deck, heading for the submarine’s bow. “Glas rescued you and talked the rest of the Group out of killing you,” mused Nina. “So after all that he did for you … why did you shoot his guy in the back in Rome?”
The smile returned, this time knowingly conspiratorial. “Let’s just say that it would be best for everyone, myself included, if you kept that to yourself for now.”
“Glas doesn’t know?”
“Maybe we should turn you in,” Eddie suggested.
“Maybe I should remind you that I saved Nina’s life in Rome. I could have let Harald’s man kill her—I could even have killed her myself. But I chose not to.”
“Without wanting to sound ungrateful,” said Nina, “why?”
“There’s a lot more going on than you think. But here we are, so remember what I just said.” A set of polished wooden double doors marked the end of the hallway. She raised a hand to open them.
“Careful now,” warned Eddie, pushing the gun into her back once more.
“For God’s sake, Eddie,” she complained. “He agreed to talk to you, and believe it or not, that’s what he’ll do. He’s very much a man of his word.”
“You’ll forgive us if we don’t entirely trust him,” said Nina. “Or you.”
Sophia knocked. “Harald? Your hostage has brought your guests.”
“Come in” came Glas’s voice from the room beyond. Sophia opened the doors.
Eddie used her as a shield, quickly checking for potential threats in what was revealed as an observation lounge, large circular windows looking out into the ocean’s depths. But visitors to the room were more likely to be wowed by the wonders within than outside.
Rarity was the theme of the small but incredibly valuable collection, Nina immediately saw. One stand contained coins arranged on red velvet, among them a gold 1933 Saint-Gaudens Double Eagle—one of the most sought-after and expensive pieces in the world, worth many millions more than its original twenty-dollar face value. Another stand held stamps, the Swedish Treskilling Yellow at its center also priced in the millions. Further treasures were arranged around the room: bottles of vintage wine, a first folio of Shakespeare’s plays, a leaf of Mozart’s Sinfonia Concertante with annotations by the composer himself, and more.
Another, less obvious theme, she realized, was that everything was relatively small and easily transportable. Their owner was on the run; he had brought with him probably only a fraction of the rare items he possessed.
The man in question was waiting for them at the room’s center. Their enemy. Harald Glas.
TWENTY-SIX
He was in his early fifties, with slightly unkempt graying hair, strong jaw blue with stubble. His tall, lean body had the build of a runner—but the Dane would not be racing again. He was confined to a