This was just getting worse. Ben knew it was the wrong thing to do, but he had to say something. ‘I’m sorry, but that doesn’t seem entirely secure.’
Dorenkamp was staring at the tabletop with a weary look of resignation.
‘Why not?’ Steiner demanded.
‘Because in my experience it’s bad practice to separate the principal, in this case, you, from most of the team. If anything kicks off—’
But Steiner silenced him with a gesture. ‘I don’t have time to waste on a long road trip. The aircraft will reach the destination within half an hour.’
‘Fine,’ Ben said. ‘Then perhaps you’ll agree to let at least one of my team ride with me in the lead chopper?’
‘Regrettably, that is not possible,’ Dorenkamp cut in. ‘There are only five seats. Pilot, co-pilot, and three passengers.’
‘Then perhaps one of the men could take your place?’ Ben said.
Steiner shook his head impatiently. ‘I cannot allow that. I need my Personal Assistant with me at all times. We will have important matters to discuss in the air, prior to the meeting.’ He paused. ‘We are wasting time here. I had already discussed my schedule with Captain Shannon, who seemed perfectly content with the plans. I am surprised you did not know this either. Or perhaps you did, and this also slipped your mind?’
Shannon again. Ben was silent.
‘You are being paid to protect me, not to organise my business arrangements,’ Steiner added.
‘Then I apologise again,’ Ben replied. He could feel the looks that the other team members were firing at him.
‘Then all is settled,’ Steiner said. He laid his hands on the table, palms down, fingers splayed. Put his weight on them and stood up with a nod. ‘Gentlemen.’ He turned and walked out of the room.
Dorenkamp got up. He looked tense, and there was a sheen of perspiration on his high forehead. ‘Morning coffee will be served in the refectory downstairs,’ he said. ‘If you will follow me. Then at one fifteen we will reassemble at the helipad. My assistant Rolf will provide you with everything you need.’
Including the useless weaponry, Ben thought as he followed Dorenkamp out of the conference room and the rest of the team filed out after him. ‘I’d like to take a look around the grounds,’ he said to the PA. ‘Just to assess security and familiarise myself with the layout.’
Dorenkamp nodded. ‘If you wish. However, I should point out that the grounds are completely secure. We have seen to that.’
They made their way back down the stairs, and Dorenkamp led them along the corridor they’d come through earlier. The music had stopped. Dorenkamp pointed at a door. ‘The refectory is through there. Gentlemen, if you would like to help yourselves to refreshments.’
As the men went into the room, he turned to Ben. ‘May I have a word?’
Ben already knew what he was going to say. Dorenkamp waited until all the others were through the door, then closed it.
‘Privately, I completely agree with the points you made,’ he said quietly, just above a whisper. ‘But Herr Steiner can be a stubborn man, and once he has made up his mind, he will not change it.’
‘So I’d noticed,’ Ben said. ‘I can be like that too.’
Dorenkamp smiled. ‘So I had noticed. But I would beg you: for the love of God, do not antagonise him.’
Ben returned the smile. ‘I’ll try to keep that in mind.’
Dorenkamp was about to reply, when the sound of approaching footsteps behind them made them turn.
A woman was walking up the corridor to meet them, her heels clicking on the polished floor. She was handsome, mid-fifties. Classic looks, slim and elegant, wearing a black dress and a string of pearls. The glossy, shoulder-length, red-gold hair didn’t look dyed. She greeted Dorenkamp with a warm smile. ‘Good morning, Heinrich.’
‘Good morning, Frau Steiner. May I introduce you to Major Hope?’
So this was Silvia Steiner, Ben thought as he shook hands with her. She seemed altogether more approachable than her husband. But then he noticed something a little odd. It was the way she was looking at him, more quizzical than disapproving. It was over in a second, and he wondered what it meant.
‘Have we met before, Major Hope?’ she asked him.
‘Please, call me Ben. And I’m afraid I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure.’
‘The major is standing in for Captain Shannon,’ Dorenkamp explained, ‘who regrettably is unable to join us for a while. An unfortunate incident.’
Silvia Steiner raised her eyebrows in consternation. ‘Oh, dear. Nothing serious, I hope?’
‘He’ll be fine,’ Ben said uncomfortably. ‘Let’s just say he had an inconvenience.’
‘What happened?’
‘It’s a long story.’
Her gaze lingered on him for a few seconds. Ben tried to read her thoughts. Had Shannon told the Steiners what had really happened? He didn’t think so. Not even Shannon could be that unprofessional.
But then the awkward moment passed and Silvia Steiner smiled warmly again. ‘It was a pleasure to meet you.’
‘Likewise,’ Ben said.
‘I’m sure we’ll meet again soon.’ She turned to Dorenkamp. ‘Have you seen Otto around, Heinrich? There was something I wanted to ask him.’
‘I believe he is on the golf course,’ the PA said.
‘Again?’ But her look of exasperation faded quickly. She smiled a last time at Ben, turned and headed back up the corridor, rounded a corner and disappeared from sight.
‘Enjoy your coffee,’ Dorenkamp said, pointing to the refectory door. ‘I will see you later.’
Ben watched him go, thinking he didn’t seem like a bad guy. He had a lot to put up with from Steiner. Then he pushed through the door. The refectory was a large dining hall, the walls panelled with ornate oak. On a side table were stacked plates and cups and a stand with a selection of cakes and pastries. Beside it was a large coffee machine that hissed steam and burbled and spat. The coffee smelled good. Ben grabbed a cup and filled it.
The others were milling around the table and talking in low voices while helping themselves to food. Ben carried his coffee over to the window and stood with his back to them, gazing out at the view.
‘What the fuck?’ said a voice behind him, hostile and challenging.
Ben turned slowly. He’d known who it was, and he’d been right. Pete Neville was standing glaring at him, a coffee in one hand and a Danish pastry in the other. ‘What’s the fucking idea of stirring things up, mate?’ he went on.
Ben gave him a look and said nothing.
‘Watch it, Pete,’ Woodcock called out from across the room. ‘He might try and break your arm.’
‘Like to see him fucking try,’ grunted Morgan.
‘So tell us, mate,’ Neville said. ‘What the fuck you trying to do, get us all the boot?’
Ben looked at him. ‘A tip. If you’re going to come on the tough guy, try not to do it when you’ve got custard all over your chin.’
Neville quickly wiped his chin with the back of his hand.
Ben turned to address them all. ‘Let’s get one thing straight, people. I’m CO here, and you’re going to answer to me and follow my lead.’
The team watched