house undetected. “Now sit on the bed, and keep your voice down. You give me any trouble, and I’ll put a bullet through your fucking head.”
Dalton moved to the bed, struggling to control his fear. “How did you get back into the country?” he asked as he sat, playing for time. “Interpol has you on a watch list—you should have set off every alarm in the airport when they took your fingerprints.”
Eddie smiled coldly. “US citizens don’t get fingerprinted.”
“You’re not a US citizen.”
“Amazing what you can do with a fake passport, innit? Now”—the smile vanished—“my turn to ask questions. Biggest one: What the fuck is going on?”
“That’s … rather too broad for me to answer.”
“You’ll manage.” The gun angled up toward Dalton’s face. “Scarber told me you were her boss, and that you set everything up in Japan. Why were you trying to kill me and Nina?”
“I have no idea what you’re—”
Eddie shifted the gun slightly and pulled the trigger. The flat thump of the bullet exiting the oversized suppressor was echoed by the sound of it blowing apart one of Dalton’s pillows in an explosion of goose down. The ex-president jumped in fright. “Next one won’t miss. Why were you trying to kill us?”
Shaking, Dalton stammered out a reply. “It—it should be obvious, shouldn’t it? Even to a grunt like you. I wanted you dead, Chase. You destroyed my life, you and your wife. I was the president of the United States, and what am I now? A laughingstock! An international joke! But,” he went on, some of his arrogance returning, “I’m not powerless. There are still some people who are loyal to me.”
“Like Scarber?”
“Yes. She left the CIA to work as my private operative. As soon as she heard what you were after, she told me. I knew you wouldn’t be able to resist the chance to clear your name.”
Eddie gave him a look of resigned annoyance. “Yeah, I thought that offer was too good to be true. So you set me and Nina up to settle old scores—but why was Takashi involved? What’s your problem with him?”
Dalton leaned forward conspiratorially. “Have you ever heard of …” He glanced about as if afraid of being overheard. “The Group?”
“Weren’t they Bob Dylan’s musicians?”
Now it was Dalton’s turn to express annoyance. “No, that was the Band. The Group is—how best to put it? The people above the people who run the world. They’re a cabal of exceptionally powerful and influential figures—businessmen, bankers—”
“Presidents?”
The gray-haired man snorted. “Only one US president has ever been a member—and it wasn’t me, I might add. But nobody gets to be president without the Group’s approval.”
“They fix the elections?” said Eddie dubiously.
“They don’t need to. Anyone they don’t like is eliminated from the process long before then. All those scandals that come out of the woodwork during the primaries? The Group sees that they’re exposed, leaving only the candidates they approve of. From both parties.”
Eddie’s interest in American politics was limited, but even he was shocked by Dalton’s revelation. “Wait, so when you were president … you were working for these guys? They told you what to do?”
He shook his head. “It’s nothing that blatant. It’s more like they make … suggestions. Advise that one policy direction would be preferable to another. From their point of view, at least.”
“So what have they got to do with Takashi?”
“You haven’t worked that out?” Dalton said with a cutting laugh. “He was one of them!”
“You wanted him dead?”
“I want them all dead, to be honest. Those bastards could have saved my presidency. But instead they left me to twist in the wind, and that jackass Leo Cole took my job. That backstabbing son of a bitch.”
“So Takashi was one of them,” said Eddie, waving the gun to focus Dalton’s mind on the matter at hand. “Who are the others?”
Another snort. “If I gave you their names, I’d be dead within twenty-four hours.”
“You could be dead a lot sooner if you don’t. And you gave me Takashi’s.”
“Anything that might have connected him to the Group will already have been wiped from existence. You don’t know how powerful these people are, Chase. Or what they’re capable of doing. What they’re actually planning to do—with your wife’s help.”
Eddie narrowed his eyes. “Meaning what? What do they need Nina for?”
“It’s something to do with those statues. She—”
“I want more than fucking something, mate. What?” There was a lengthy silence. “Well?”