much of a partner if he keeps secrets from you,” Eddie scoffed. “More like a boss.”
“It’s an alliance of convenience,” said the politician, prickling. “We have a mutual enemy—the Group.”
“What’s he got against them?”
“They tried to kill him.”
“Well, yeah, that does tend to piss people off. Why?”
Another pause. “He was a member,” said Dalton. “The statues are part of their plan—something to do with earth energy, I assume. He was opposed to it, so they tried to eliminate him. But he escaped, and has been in hiding ever since. He arranged the helicopter attack in Tokyo. The statues and your wife were the primary targets, Takashi was the secondary, and you were … Well, he didn’t even know you were there. That was entirely down to me.”
A frown creased Eddie’s brow. “You know, I’m having a really hard time thinking of reasons why I shouldn’t just shoot you in the face.”
“I can think of one very good one,” said Dalton, with a smug smile. “Nina.”
“What about her?”
“You think this is over? She’s the key to the Group’s plan—they can’t achieve it without her. So I’m afraid my partner will still be trying to have her killed. Instead of threatening me, you should be trying to protect her. And you won’t be able to do that without my—”
Eddie exploded from his seat, lunging across the room to grab Dalton by his throat and slam him backward on to the bed. He thrust the gun hard against the ex-president’s cheek. “I want this fucker’s name in five seconds, or you die! Four, three, two—”
“Glas!” Dalton squealed. “His name’s Glas, Harald Glas!”
To Eddie’s surprise, he knew the name. “But he’s something to do with the IHA …”
“One of the—non-executive directors,” Dalton managed to gasp. “He has a lot of involvement with the UN. He’s in the energy business—oil, gas, coal, even nuclear.”
“So where do I find him?”
“I don’t know—I don’t know!” he repeated with considerably more fear as the silencer was rammed harder against his face. “I told you, he’s in hiding. And I don’t know how to contact him—he always contacts me. But I do know that he’s already tried to kill your wife again. In Rome, earlier today. One of my people in the State Department told me.”
Cold shock froze Eddie. “Is she …”
“She’s all right. She has the same damn charmed life as you.” He sat up and rubbed his bruised cheek as the Englishman pulled back. “But it won’t last forever. He’ll keep sending people after her, and sooner or later one of them will succeed. Unless …”
“Unless what?”
“You’d like to go home, wouldn’t you, Chase? Be reunited with your wife?” The smarminess of a politician making promises returned at full slimy intensity. “I can arrange it. Bring the statues to me, so I can show Glas that they’ve been destroyed, and I’ll get him to call off his dogs. I’ll even do what I can to get you off the hook with Interpol.”
Eddie stared at him for a long moment. “Nah, I don’t think so.”
It wasn’t the response Dalton had expected. “What?”
“I trust you about as much as I could shit an elephant. Soon as I go, you’ll scream for the Secret Service, and then either I’ll be dead or every cop and government agent in the country’ll be looking for me.” He regarded the gun. “Unless I make sure you can’t.”
Dalton went pale. “No, no, wait. There’s no need to kill me—I can help you, I really can! Whatever you need, I can get—I still have the connections. I do!”
Another silence, the gun fixed on the trembling man … then unexpectedly Eddie let out a sarcastic chuckle. “You’re right, I don’t need to kill you. I can do something worse.”
“W-worse?”
Eddie crossed the room to a dresser, on top of which was a collection of framed photos of Dalton in his presidential days—and picked up a phone that had been propped, half hidden, behind one of the pictures. “Did you get that?” he said into its camera.
“Came out great, mate,” said an Australian voice from the other end of the line. “Bluey” Jackson, the friend who had provided Eddie with his fake US passport.
“Cheers. You know what to do.” He turned the phone around and tapped its screen to disconnect.
Appalled realization hit the former president. “You recorded this?”
“Worked last time, didn’t it?” Eddie said cheerily as he pocketed the phone. “That was a live video call to a mate of mine in another country—the same mate who helped