“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 such as 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.”
TWENTY-EIGHT
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 idealized 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 mountaintops, 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 statues.
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 signaled 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 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