‘Hear that, love?’ said Eddie. ‘You can be replaced by a bucket of germs.’
She gave him a sarcastic look. ‘If that’s what turns you on . . .’
A low buzz came from Warden’s jacket, and he took out a phone. ‘Yes?’ he barked into it. ‘Where we discussed? Excellent. What channel?’ He disconnected and touched a control on his armrest. Part of the polished wood hinged upwards, a small television screen rising smoothly out of it. He turned it to face Nina and Eddie. ‘I think you’ll enjoy this.’
A news channel came on, showing the entrance to what looked like a restaurant. The crawl at the bottom of the screen read —ARRESTED BY FBI. BREAKING NEWS: FORMER PRESID— As they watched, four suited men bustled another out of the door.
Even though their prisoner was trying to hide his face from the waiting TV camera, he was instantly recognisable. Victor Dalton.
A breathless female newscaster attempted to keep up with the story. ‘These pictures, taken just minutes ago, show former US president Victor Dalton being removed from a restaurant on Washington, DC’s K Street by FBI agents. The details are still sketchy, but from what we understand, the disgraced president has been charged under the Espionage Act,’ her voice conveyed near disbelief, ‘on suspicion of releasing classified information to unauthorised personnel.’ On screen, Dalton was shoved into the rear seat of a black SUV. ‘As yet, we haven’t received any statements from the Justice Department or the White House, but as soon as we do—’
Warden muted the sound. ‘Well?’
‘Well . . . wow,’ said Nina, not sure how to react. ‘I take it that was your doing.’
‘It was. We knew Dalton had a grudge against the Group – he blamed us for not keeping him in office after his little videotaped indiscretion, even though it was obvious his position was untenable. We didn’t realise he’d actively sided with Glas against us until it was too late, but we certainly weren’t going to let it stand.’ There was a disquieting matter-of-fact ruthlessness to his voice.
‘So what happens to us?’ Eddie asked. ‘First thing he’ll do will be try to drag us down with him. Seeing as we blackmailed him into getting us into Silent Peak.’
‘I wouldn’t worry about that,’ said Warden, with another grim un-smile. ‘He’ll have much larger concerns than personal vendettas. Some of the other skeletons in his closet will come to light.’ He retracted the screen, then glanced through a window. ‘Ah, we’re almost here. We can continue this discussion in my home.’
The limo slowed, turning through a set of automatic gates on to the lengthy drive of an especially large house. It pulled up outside, the driver quickly exiting to open the door for his passengers.
‘Nice pad,’ said Eddie as he got out. ‘So this is how the top one per cent live.’
‘More like the top one per cent of the top one per cent,’ Nina replied. Warden’s home was an elegant three-storey building that had been styled after a British Georgian mansion – or, for all she knew, genuinely was one that had been transported across the Atlantic brick by brick. Either way, its value would be well into the multi-million-dollar range . . . and she imagined it was not the investor’s only property.
Warden led them inside, taking them down a long hall displaying artworks traditional and modern to a door at the far end. He paused at it. ‘Before we go inside, I’ll first ask you both to remain calm. The Group sometimes has to make deals with people we would rather not work with. My other guest is one of those people. And I know that you’ve had bad experiences with him in the past.’
With that, he opened the door . . . to reveal Alexander Stikes in the large room beyond.
‘What the fuck is he doing here?’ Eddie yelled, taking up position to shield Nina. ‘Get that bastard out of here, or I’ll do it for you!’
Stikes was seated on a long couch, not in the least surprised to see the new arrivals. He moved his left arm to reveal a gun in a shoulder holster beneath his jacket. ‘Let’s not have any unpleasantness, shall we, Chase? We’re all guests here.’
‘Not for long,’ said Nina. She rounded on Warden. ‘If that murdering son of a bitch is working for you, I think any business we might have had is finished.’
‘If you’ll let me explain,’ he said, quietly but firmly. ‘As I said, sometimes needs