Sarah gave an involuntary gasp when she saw the soaring, octagonal confection in honeyed stone that dominated everything around it, the enormous dome topped by a twenty-foot bell tower. As they walked across the square, Jamie hesitated, torn between what he knew was right and what he knew was best. He could turn away now and they could get on with their lives as if this had never happened. But could they? Frederick and his thugs would never stop looking for them as long as he thought they would lead him to the Sun Stone. Every time they opened the door it could be to some human meat grinder like Gustav. No. It had to be this way. In any case, there were things he had to know and things Sarah had to understand.
She felt his steps falter and thought he was delaying to get a better view of the church. ‘I wonder what your grandfather would have thought of it?’
Jamie squeezed her hand, the last doubt gone, and led her into the hallowed silence of the interior, where the gilt Baroque ceiling soared above just as it had done three hundred years earlier, supported by lavishly painted marble columns and layers of galleries, the windows allowing in an almost ethereal light that made the whole church glow. In the cupola of the dome, they could see the faces staring out from the glass front of the ramp that led in a long spiral up to the viewing platform. Several dozen tourists wandered the aisles taking in the wonder around them. Sarah followed him to a place in the front pew in front of the astonishing golden masterpiece of the High Altar and waited as he bowed his head as if in prayer.
They’d been sitting for a few minutes when they were joined by a pony-tailed man in a denim jacket who looked as if he’d just escaped from a 1970s pop group. Gradually, recognition dawned. Howard Vanderbilt never voluntarily appeared on TV business shows, but despite his best efforts a few images of him survived. The pictures they used were either photos from a time when the ponytail had actually been in fashion or blurred shots of a distant figure on the hundred-million-dollar yacht that transported him around the Bahamas every summer. Jamie tried to tell himself he’d been expecting this, but it was still a shock to be sitting within feet of one of the richest men in the world – especially when that man was holding a gleaming 9 mm pistol that appeared to be aimed in the direction of his heart.
‘Mr Saintclair, I’m glad to meet you at last.’
‘I wish I could say the same, sir.’
The fact that Howard Vanderbilt was carrying a gun told Jamie everything he needed about the billionaire industrialist’s state of mind. Just like Walter Brohm, Vanderbilt had been driven beyond logic and reason by the Sun Stone. Why else would a man who could buy and sell whole countries be running around with a pistol when he had half a dozen perfectly good executioners sitting within fifteen feet? Their relative positions meant they were forced to talk across Sarah, who seemed not to have noticed the pistol and was showing similar signs to a volcano about to erupt. Her hands clutched at the shoulder bag in her lap and Jamie hoped she would keep them there.
A commotion at the back of the church signalled a new influx of visitors and Jamie turned his head to see a dark-suited figure he recognized as Frederick push his way past Vanderbilt’s bodyguards. Four shaven-headed minders in leather jackets and jeans accompanied him, sweeping the interior of the Frauenkirche with their eyes and evidently not liking what they saw. They’d still be trying to figure out Gustav’s mysterious disappearance and it would make them jumpy, but Jamie hoped not too jumpy. He was reassured when a word from Frederick brought them to heel. He noted a flaring of the nostrils when the previously impassive German recognized the man sitting beside him. Interesting, but they’d have to wait to see how interesting.
The German took his seat in the second pew, off to Jamie’s right but within touching distance of Howard Vanderbilt’s left shoulder. An aide approached the tycoon and he visibly stiffened when he heard whatever information he’d been given. Vanderbilt snatched a glance towards the man seated behind him and Frederick’s pale eyes hardened, confirming the surveillance information Mr Lim had provided in exchange for the location of the Sun Stone. Of course, the trade had been a little one-sided and Mr Lim hadn’t expected to be part of a delegation, but Jamie hoped he was a man who appreciated irony.
For a few seconds the two sets of bodyguards jockeyed for position in the open spaces around the pews as if they were part of a carefully choreographed ballet. Vanderbilt frowned, his patience evidently wearing thin. ‘As you can see, Frederick, I have this situation under control,’ he said over his shoulder. ‘Your presence is not required. We can talk about this later, but for now I think you and your friends should leave.’ The only answer was a short laugh and at some unseen signal one of Vanderbilt’s bodyguards moved to Frederick’s right where he could cover the German’s gun hand.