“Close the door before someone sees us.” He strode in as if he owned the place—which for all Matthias knew, he might—and tossed the hat on the dark-green duvet folded across the foot of the narrow bed. “I trust your accommodations are sufficient?”
Matthias looked around the small, simply appointed room. The view of the Alps out the window during daylight hours was likely spectacular, but he’d never be able to see it. So the hotel room’s greatest asset was the owner’s willingness to cover that alpine view with a dark blackout curtain and make the south wing of the hotel inaccessible during daylight hours. It was a service for which Frank no doubt paid a premium.
“I would prefer to be at home, in New York or Virginia.” Matthias poured a brandy for himself and the man who’d saved him—although Matthias, too, had paid a premium. He’d be allowed to live as long as he followed the orders of the officious Austrian, remained isolated, and kept the information flowing. Frank had told him one misstep and no matter where Matthias went, he’d be found. Once found, he’d wish in vain for a merciful execution.
Matthias did not doubt him. He’d met only two men by whom he was truly intimidated. Mirren Kincaid was one, and the other sat across the room from him now, polishing a scuff off his expensive Italian leather shoes.
“All things considered, I’m quite comfortable in these rooms. Danke.” Matthias raised his glass in salute.
“Bitte.” Frank settled into the chair nearest the covered window and sipped his brandy. “I thought you would enjoy an update from your friends in Penton. I’m sorry to say there has been a most unfortunate accident.”
The rush of anticipation heated Matthias’s nerve endings more than the brandy. He tried not to sound too eager. “Is it too much to hope one of the Penton Five is no longer among us?”
Aidan Murphy. Mirren Kincaid. Cage Reynolds. Gloriana Cummings. Melissa Calvert. They needed to die. And Matthias’s own son, William, was number six, the one who needed to suffer most. He’d been promised the opportunity to deal with his rebellious, traitorous son himself, in whatever manner he chose, as soon as the others were dead. He anticipated years of breaking the boy, again and again.
“Sadly, no. Not yet, anyway. But the stupid human soldier who helped lead the charge against us this summer is dead,” Frank said. “I’m told morale is low, and many of those who moved back into town are again considering defection.”
“Let me go after them personally.” Matthias rose and paced the length of the room. “Give me three or four good fighters, and we can take them out. After all, after today they’ll think I’m dead. Their guard will be down.”
Frank gave him an assessing look, but ultimately shook his head. “It’s too risky. One of the guards who arranged for your escape has disappeared. We’re looking for him, but there’s no way to guarantee his silence until we find him. Hunger drives even vampires to make strange alliances, yes?”
Matthias hated inaction. “So we just arrange for a run of bad luck and hope we manage to take out Murphy? If he’s gone, the others will crumble, but it’s a slow tactic, especially with him having the votes to ascend to the Tribunal next week.”
Matthias bristled at the notion that Murphy, no more than a brawling Irish farm boy, would be seated at the Tribunal meeting table while he, one of the vampire elite, was a fugitive.
Frank got up and poured himself another brandy. “It’s not that simple. You forget Mirren Kincaid. The others will follow Kincaid if something happens to Murphy. They all have to be taken out—but especially those two.”
Matthias laughed. “They’d follow if Kincaid would lead, but he won’t. It’s not in his nature. The only other person in Penton capable of taking over if something happened to Murphy was Cage Reynolds, and that sorry backstabbing sonofabitch went back to London.” He’d also like being the one to kill Reynolds. Slowly.
“Not any more. He returned to Penton last evening.” Frank smiled at Matthias’s look of astonishment. “Murphy asked and he didn’t hesitate, or that’s the word in London. Edward Simmons released him from his bond.”
“More reason to let me go after them. After all, it keeps your hands clean.”
“I said no.” Frank’s tone turned sharp. “You’re where I need you. I have help on the inside, and our plan will work. You have the unfortunate American trait of impatience. Your way led to failure. Mine will take longer, but it will succeed.”
Greisser had managed to place someone inside Murphy’s organization? “Who is your plant? What is the plan?”