“Nonsense,” Sophie said, and her gaze at Dieter was level and steady. “Your father won’t hear of it. We insist. The three of you can have the guest suite. After all, we wouldn’t want anything to happen to you. You’ll be safest with us.”
“I don’tthink that’s wise,” Dieter said.
His mother’s voice was firm. “We absolutely must insist. Come along, Flicka, Alina.”
Sophie strolled toward the dark terminal, her head held high.
Dieter watched her go, frowning.
The four muscle-bound mercenaries materialized from the dark under the plane.
Flicka, an expert from years of examining the bodyguards who had surrounded her, noted that every oneof them had acquired new bulges along their waistbands and legs, presumably from weapons bags retrieved from the cargo area in the belly of the plane.
Dieter also examined the mercenaries.
He held out his elbow to Flicka. “Shall we?”
“All right.” She took his arm, held Alina’s hand, and walked after Sophie into the darkness.
The mercenaries fanned out around them, but even Flicka could tellthat their formation was designed to keep her and Dieter from disappearing into the night rather than to protect them from any threat that might appear out of it.
Yes, this was not a family visit.
This was an exceedingly polite, and thus very Swiss, kidnapping.
