men. ‘Jesus Christ!’
‘It’s okay,’ Nina assured him. ‘We’re getting out of here. You’re safe.’
‘What about this lot?’ Eddie asked of the Group. ‘We’ve just pissed off the world’s most powerful people. That might cause one or two problems down the line.’
‘We’ll have to worry about that later. The main thing is that we’ve got Larry, and the statues.’
He gave the three figurines on the floor nearby a disapproving look. ‘In that case, we should smash the fucking things to bits right now.’ He raised his gun to shoot them – only to halt as one of the commandos took out a cell phone. ‘Hey! Who are you calling?’
‘Mr Glas,’ came the reply, as if it were self-evident. ‘Sir? Yes, it’s Vinther. We are successful. We have the statues, and we have the Group.’ He listened to the response. ‘Yes, sir. The hotel will be secured for your arrival.’ He disconnected.
‘What?’ Eddie demanded, the statues forgotten as he went to face Vinther. ‘Glas is here in Switzerland?’
‘Yes, he entered the country in secret. He is about to come up in the cable car.’
‘And why the fuck wasn’t I told about this?’
‘Mr Glas decided that you didn’t need to know.’
‘Oh, he did?’ said Eddie, bristling, but Vinther was already issuing instructions to the other men. Several left the room, spreading out into the hotel to mop up any of Stikes’s remaining mercenaries. ‘Well, that’s fucking nice.’
Nina joined him. ‘Look, I know it’s kind of an asshole move on Glas’s part, but it doesn’t matter. We did what we came here to do.’
‘I suppose,’ he rumbled, before jerking a dismissive thumb at Stikes. ‘Keep an eye on that twat,’ he told one of the remaining commandos.
Stikes stared at the couple, behind the blood his expression angry . . . but also coldly calculating.
In the kitchen, Amsel snapped up his MP7 as the main doors opened, but relaxed when he saw it was one of his comrades entering. ‘What’s the situation?’ he asked.
‘Everything’s under control,’ his companion reported. ‘We’ve captured the Group, and the others are making sure there are no more guards in the hotel. Mr Glas is on his way up.’ He glanced at the storeroom door, through which the waiter was still glaring. ‘Any trouble from them?’
Amsel shook his head. ‘How long before Mr Glas gets here?’
‘A few minutes.’
‘Good. Don’t leave me behind when you go, okay?’
The other man grinned. ‘We’ll come and get you. See you soon.’ He turned and exited.
Amsel looked back at the storeroom. The waiter’s fixed look of stony anger was becoming unsettling, but as looks couldn’t kill he ignored it, turning away to maintain his watch on the kitchen’s other entrances.
Inside the cramped room, the waiter slowly brought one muscular arm round behind his back, raising the tails of his jacket to find something the commandos’ cursory search had missed, pushed into his waistband.
A gun.
His hand closed on the grip, but he didn’t draw it. Instead he stood statue-still amidst the frightened hotel staff, waiting for the right moment . . .
30
In the Alpine Lounge, Vinther’s phone trilled. He listened to the brief message, then returned it to his pocket. ‘Mr Glas is here.’
‘Great,’ said Eddie, unenthused. The commandos had returned one by one, having found no more members of Stikes’s security force, and were now guarding their prisoners at the round table. Stikes himself had been moved to the empty seat beside Warden; having wiped the blood from his face, he now sat impassively, cold blue eyes slowly sweeping over the room’s occupants.
Something about that was niggling Eddie. Stikes seemed too impassive. His earlier anger at being punched and kicked had faded, replaced not by the scathing defiance the Yorkshireman would have expected, but by an air of blank calm. A poker face? It was as if he expected the tables to be turned. But the hotel had now been secured, thermal scans of the surrounding grounds confirming that there were no more mercenaries outside. So why did he seem so . . . confident?
He briefly considered beating an answer out of Stikes, but was distracted by his father’s pacing back and forth in bewilderment. ‘So this guy Glas,’ Larry said to Nina, ‘he was trying to have you killed? But now you’re working with him?’
‘Yeah, I know,’ said Nina. ‘It’s complicated.’ She sighed. ‘Just once, it would be nice to know exactly who the good guys and bad guys are right from the start . . .’
‘Complicated! That’s an understatement. Strange powers, levitating statues,