In the car park they followed the American to a battered Land Rover Discovery with French licence plates. Lea leaned inside to see Vincent Reno at the wheel. “Bonsoir,” he said with a wide grin and a friendly nod of his head.
“Monsieur Reaper here drove across from his place in Provence,” Camacho said.
“Only six hours for ordinary people,” the Frenchman said. “Or five hours if you drive like me.” He patted the steering wheel affectionately. “I drive her hard.”
“I’m not saying a thing,” Scarlet said.
“Makes a change.”
“At least I don’t look like Hulk Hogan!” she said.
“Who the hell is Ulk Ogan?” Reaper said.
“This is almost as much fun as when we went to the Arctic!” Lea said.
“The Arctic Circle?” Reaper said.
“She means Valhalla,” Scarlet said with a grin. “You wouldn’t know about that Vincent because you were lazing around in a Swedish hospital bed.”
Reaper gave a Gallic shrug. “And I cannot deny it.”
“Just drive!”
And with that they were gone, racing out of the car park and making their way from the airport to Liechtenstein.
CHAPTER SIX
“Who knew Liechtenstein was so damn pretty?” Lea said.
“Or so damn small,” said Scarlet. “Rich has got a bathroom bigger than this whole country back in his Oxford mansion.”
“It’s not that small,” Ryan said.
“Are you kidding?” Scarlet said dismissively. “You can drive across it in about ten minutes. They probably share the electricity bill.”
The corner of Hawke’s mouth turned up in amusement as Reaper drove them south along the Bergstrasse to the tiny village of Bärg. Like everyone else in the team he had never been to Liechtenstein before and was impressed by how so many awesome mountains could be packed into such a small country.
“It’s amazing how so much Alpine beauty fits into such a diminutive principality,” Ryan said.
“That’s just what I was thinking,” Hawke said, glancing in the mirror. “Sort of.”
They turned a sharp hairpin bend in the road and headed north, at once revealing a generous view of the country’s capital, Vaduz. With only a little over five thousand residents in the town, it was one of the smallest capitals in the world, but it was a startlingly alluring town with its narrow roads and cathedral spire. As they pushed higher into the mountains, Ryan pointed out Vaduz Castle, the Sovereign Prince’s official residence, far below at the start of the Bergstrasse.
“There it is again,” he said, impressed by its 11th Century keep which peered imperiously over the entire valley below.
“And that’s where the king lives, right?” Lea said.
“He’s a prince, actually,” Ryan replied. “His official title is His Serene Highness,”
“Ooh I like that,” Scarlet said. “Is he married?”
“Yes, to a Czech countess,” he said wryly, “but I’m sure he’d be much happier with you.”
Onwards up the western slopes of the Alpspitz they drove until they reached Bärg and slowed to meet its fifty kph speed limit. Reaper cruised past the wooden ski chalets and neatly trimmed gardens. A bank of clouds was blowing in from the north and covering much of the country below in cool shade.
Turning into an unsealed side road they drove another few hundred yards to a set of imposing iron gates. They opened as if by magic and allowed them to cruise up Wolff’s drive and park up outside the main entrance to his chalet.
Set over four storeys, the postmodern chalet was constructed out of hardwood timber, steel and glass, but boulders and stones from the mountain itself supported its base.
The door opened to reveal a man in a smart two-piece suit. He acknowledged them politely but without a smile. “My name is Brunhart. I keep the house.”
Hawke and Lea shared a wordless glance as Brunhart showed them into a vast slate-floored hallway.
“Please follow me.”
Brunhart led them out of the hall and they turned to walk down a long, cedar panelled corridor decorated occasionally with peculiar abstract sculptures in white porcelain. Approaching a closed door, Brunhart tapped respectfully and moments later they were standing inside a large, high-ceilinged room with white stucco walls and a vast slate fireplace. All around the room were pieces of ancient art and archaeology, and the entire western wall was an eight-metre high window which projected the most incredible view of the valley into the postmodern space. Lea felt like she was in an IMAX cinema. One of Bach’s orchestral suites played quietly through concealed speakers.
“Please, wait here,” Brunhart said. “I will tell Herr Wolff you have arrived.”
Brunhart clicked the door behind him and a silence fell on the expansive room.
“He actually squeaks when he walks,” Lexi said with amazement.
Lea rolled her eyes. “That’s his shoes.”
“Look at all this stuff,” Ryan said, marvelling at the collection of ancient art and sculptures. “It’s amazing.”
“Looks like a load of crap to me,” Scarlet said dismissively.
“What the hell is this?” Lea asked as she picked up what looked like a small wooden club.
“I can’t be sure,” Ryan said, squinting at it, “but it looks a lot like a wooden phallus from the Kabye tribe of Togo.”
“Urghh,” Lea said, and threw it into the air in horror.
“Ah, but this has potential,” Scarlet said, catching it with one hand and winking at Ryan.
“You are something else, Sloane,” Camacho said, wrenching it out of her hand and putting it back on the shelf with the rest of the collection. He looked at her and shook his head.
The moment ended abruptly when a tall, thin man entered the room not by the door Brunhart had used but by a concealed entrance behind the fireplace. He had silver, neck-length hair swept back from his face in neat perfection and wore a dark Nehru jacket. Holding his arms behind his back he approached them and introduced himself in a clipped, cultured accent. “I’m honoured Sir Richard organized things so quickly,” he said with a businesslike nod of his head. He approached Ryan first and shook his hand fervently. “I am Otmar Wolff and you must be Joe Hawke! I read about your involvement in the discovery of the Temple of Huitzilopochtli and I must say this is a true privilege to meet you.”
“Why, thank you!” Ryan said with a grin and returning the handshake. “I’m very…”
“Very much not Joe Hawke,” Lea said with a disapproving look. “This is Ryan Bale, Herr Wolff, and I’m Lea Donovan. This is Joe Hawke…”
The man looked embarrassed for a moment before apologizing for his mistake, and then greeted everyone in turn. “Please — have a seat.”
The ECHO team welcomed his offer and made use of the eclectic jumble of sofas and chairs scattered around the large fireplace, but Ryan paused to peer into the secret passageway.
“Ryan, arse on couch right now,” Scarlet said.
“Oh, yeah… sorry.”
“You have a beautiful home, Herr Wolff,” Lea said.
Wolff nodded pensively, as if he were considering whether the statement was true or not. “It was very expensive to build,” he explained. “We had to use helicopters to transport the steel up here because the trucks they wanted to use couldn’t handle the roads.”
“Isn’t that always the problem?” Hawke said, drawing a hard nudge in his ribs from Lea’s elbow.
“Your journey up the Bergstrasse would have taken you past Vaduz Castle, I’m sure, so you see my home is really very modest.” He smiled and his eyes danced across their faces. “But I digress. I liaised with Sir Richard and the Mexicans to get you here because I feel we may be of mutual assistance to each other. As a serious collector in the world of archaeology, I have followed your exploits closely. I hope that doesn’t make me sound like an obsessive. It is a pleasant and necessary distraction from my business life.” He smiled at them warmly. “I presume Sir Richard briefed you fully about my business proposal?”