The goods lift came to a sudden halt. All the guns were trained on the doors.
Anya was aiming at Stromberg, Volpe at Anya; Klebb stood so small and hard-edged beside Lodge that even the concrete seemed more cautious.
The lift doors opened.
Paloma stood there.
Behind her were the cheerful cadets Mutoi, Komarova, Kalaschek, Höller, Kromoser and Eder.
All six cadets looked considerably less fresh-faced than during their literary appearance, but more serious and mature. Paloma looked as though she had no time for drama.
“Nobody shoot,” she said, whilst pointing her assault rifle at Stromberg. Only now did Anya notice that Paloma had also equipped the cadets with pistols. She hoped they’d received adequate weapons training in Austria.
Magnus cautiously raised his beer from behind a saloon car.
“I support this motion.”
Paloma stepped out of the lift, went straight to the side console and, using Ravn’s stolen universal card, pulled back a small cover. Beneath it lay an industrial switch, marked in yellow and black, utterly unattractive and therefore suspiciously important.
Ravn was the first to realise.
“Don’t!”
Paloma pressed it.
A deep hydraulic groan ran through the garage. At the bottom of the ramp, between Ravn, her guards and the ramp leading to the service corridor, a massive concrete slab descended from the ceiling. Fast enough to crush anyone foolish enough to be standing beneath it. Ravn tried to take two more steps forward, but the slab closed with a dull thud. Dust fell from the ceiling. Ravn and her guards were locked out.
Paloma exhaled. Anya gritted her teeth.
“Right. Now we can have a chat without Ms Ravn.”
Stromberg looked at her as if a particularly beautiful butterfly had just smashed into his aquarium.
“Paloma, you’ve just locked out our leverage!” Anya lowered her pistol and pointed at the barrel of nuclear waste lying on the floor. “I had Ravn under control by threatening to shoot the barrel and scatter the service corridor with thousands of radioactive shards.”
Paloma shrugged, without taking her eyes off Stromberg.
“A simple ‘thank you’ didn’t seem to cross your lips, Comrade.”
Lodge slowly closed his briefcase.
Volpe regarded Paloma with open interest. Klebb did too, but in her case, desire mingled with the interest.
“Where are the three rings?” asked Claudia.
Paloma looked at her.
“Loaded and safely underway on the rolling waves of the sea. You didn’t think I’d leave you in Ms Ravn’s hands and betray you, did you? The rings were the priority. But you came a close second.”
Anya took half a step forward.
“To Cuba?”
Paloma smiled faintly.
“Where else? For all our socialist brotherhood, Cuba is my home. And there are still three rings left for the Soviet Union. Shall we go now?”
Stromberg closed his eyes briefly.
It was only a tiny moment. But it was the moment when a man who turned continents, oceans and time windows into calculations realised that six neptunium rings were suddenly only three, and the rest were at sea.
“Then,” said Claudia quietly, “he can’t restart the machine.”
“Not quickly, you’re right, Dr Tiedemann. It would work with four rings, as the missing Dr Lind attested, but when it comes to oceans, I prefer to play it safe,” said Stromberg.
That was almost worse than a curse. It was an admission.
Ilya was now lying half-upright against Shane’s shoulder. He was pale, his eyes closed. Caba had stabilised the bleeding as best he could in an underground car park, but the bandage had turned dark.
Paloma’s expression changed.
“What happened to him?”
Shane didn’t answer straight away. His hand rested on Ilya’s shoulder, too firmly, too still.
“Ricochet. Shrapnel from the ring.”
Paloma looked at Anya.
“And you’re still negotiating? He needs a doctor and decontamination.”
Anya said sharply, “I’ve requested medical attention.”
Volpe walked slowly towards Paloma, her hands visibly empty because she had demonstratively tucked her pistol away.
“Woman to woman,” she said, “we can all die here very proudly or walk away very wisely. Cuba gets three rings. That’s more than Cuba had this morning.”
Paloma let her come closer, but only up to a boundary that nobody could see and which Volpe, of course, hit exactly.
“And what does Stromberg get?”
“Time,” said Volpe. “Face and half of his plan.”
“And?”
Volpe smiled. “That’s negotiation. Nobody gets everything.”
Klebb stepped up to Paloma’s other side. Her voice became surprisingly soft, almost warm, which was more threatening coming from her than a command.
“You’re brave,” she said. “And prettier than bravery usually is in this line of work.”
Paloma turned her head.
“Are you trying to woo me?”
“Are you interested? There are more arguments than there is neptunium, ice and electricity.”
“In the middle of a garage full of nuclear waste?”
“You make use of the spaces that history gives you.”
Magnus whispered from behind the car: “That’s the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard next to a radioactive rubbish bin.”
Meanwhile, Lodge had already begun to think in terms of possibilities. You could see it on his face: for him, any disaster only became bearable once it had been allocated a budget.
“Cuba needs coastal infrastructure,” he said. “Storm-proof warehouses. Perhaps an energy efficiency project for all town halls, funded by the Stromberg Foundation? Or party headquarters, if that’s more important to you?”
Paloma looked at him.
“You want to buy Cuba?”
“Finance it—that’s a huge difference,” said Lodge.
“That’s buying with shoes from Sardinia,” Anya sneered.
Claudia called out: “I’d remind you that we have two barrels here with significantly elevated radiation levels. If we stand here any longer, you can all have your bribery offers framed in lead.”
Anya knelt briefly beside Ilya. Caba didn’t shy away from her, but looked at her sternly.
“He mustn’t be moved until we know where,” said Caba.
“He has to get out of here,” said Anya.
Shane looked up.
“He needs a doctor. Now, please!”
Stromberg looked at Paloma, then at the cadets, then at the three remaining rings.
“We need a mediator whom all sides can accept.”
“Francine de la Motte,” said Claudia immediately.
“She’s a WEO,” said Lodge. “Which makes her a stakeholder of the highest order. That’s never neutral.”
“She’s more professionally neutral than you are,” said Claudia.
“That’s not hard,” muttered Magnus.
Mutoi stepped out of the circle of cadets and positioned himself between Paloma, Anya and Stromberg. Everyone looked on in confusion at the brave cadet who had placed himself squarely in the line of fire of all the warring parties.
“It must be Princess Indulan.”
Everyone looked at him as though he’d ended the First World War with a stroke of a pen and then invited France and Austria over for tea. The young cadet didn’t shrink, though that would have been more sensible.
“The princess is Danish. Her family benefits from Stromberg’s free electricity for Christiansborg, so she has an interest in ensuring the matter isn’t simply treated as an attack on the foundation. At the same time, she is beholden to the Danish people. And to the Agreement on the Monarchies. She cannot allow a royal family to be compromised by illegal technology or foreign powers.”
Silence.
Then Magnus said: “The lad is better than the food in Hesse.” He chuckled a little, but the others ignored him kindly.
Komarova nodded. “That’s why he’s class representative.”
Stromberg looked at Mutoi for a long time.
“You quoted Nestroy on stage and are now proposing a Danish princess as a nuclear mediator.”
“Aye.”
“Austria is an astonishing place.”
“Aye.”
Claudia looked at Anya.
Anya looked at Paloma.
Paloma looked at Stromberg.
Volpe smiled, as if she liked the improbability of the suggestion. Klebb didn’t seem enthusiastic, but she didn’t seem bored either; she slipped the knuckle duster off her hand and deftly tucked it into her handbag, not without casting another critical glance at Paloma. That was almost a sign of approval from her.
“Indulan,” Claudia said at last. “And de la Motte for technical input.”
“No,” said Anya. “Indulan alone at first. We can present the results to de la Motte, but she’s not part of the negotiations.”
Stromberg looked at the barrels.
“Indulan first.”
“I thank you for your trust,” said Mutoi.
Stromberg looked at him.
Shane looked at Ilya. His head had slumped against his shoulder. His eyes were closed. For a terrible moment, Shane fell completely silent.
“Ilya?”
Caba immediately checked his pulse.
“Unconscious,” she said. “Pulse present. Breathing shallow, but present. But I don’t want to make him sniff that petrol rag again that Mrs Klebb recommended to me.”
Shane said nothing. He just looked up at Stromberg.
That was enough.
Stromberg slowly raised his hand.
“A doctor is coming down via the goods lift. None of my people will stop him. And we’ll visit the princess in the royal box; it’s as comfortable as it is bug-proof.”
Shane held Ilya tight.
“I’m staying with him.”
“Mr Rozanov is part of the operation,” said Volpe, after she’d requested the doctor via the communications terminal and informed the princess’s ladies-in-waiting of the urgent audience.
“He’s unconscious.”
“Then nod for him,” said Volpe gently.
Shane looked at her, then at Ilya. He hated the phrase. But he understood it.
Slowly, he nodded.
“For Ilya: doctor first. Then we’ll join you.”
“Accepted,” said Stromberg.
Anya looked at Shane searchingly. Then she nodded too.
Claudia said, “The cadets stay away from the barrels.”
“Of course,” said Kalaschek, “we know the danger.”
“And you’ll guard the rings,” said Stromberg.
“As neutral Austrians?” asked Magnus.
“As neutral witnesses, yes,” said Stromberg.
“Even worse,” said Magnus. “Austrian witnesses write long reports.”
Mutoi turned to his men.
“All cadets except those already involved stay here behind the marker, away from the barrels. No one touches the rings without instruction. No one drinks anything that isn’t water. No one treats this as a game.”
Köck raised his hand cautiously.
“I volunteer as a witness to the events in the underground car park.”
Magnus stepped up beside him.
“Me too. As a Hessian civilian witness with beer expertise.”
Claudia looked at him.
“Why doesn’t that surprise me?”
“Because you’re intelligent?”
“That wasn’t an invitation.”
Stromberg said, “Köck and Magnus are coming along as garage witnesses. Mutoi, Komarova, Kalaschek, Höller, Kromoser and Eder are coming too. They saw Paloma’s harbour story and will confirm it.”
Klebb looked at the three remaining rings.
“I’m staying with the rings.”
“No,” said Claudia, Anya and Paloma at the same time.
Klebb raised an eyebrow. Lodge cleared his throat.
“Klebb is coming with me because I need her protection; Volpe and Lodge will hand over their access cards and stay here in the secure underground car park with the cadets, just in case anyone needs adult help.” She seemed to accept this, if only because it sounded like an order rather than a request. Volpe and Lodge went to the open delivery van with the rings after handing their access cards to Klebb; Klebb herself stood just behind Stromberg.
Caba stayed with Ilya until the doctor arrived; Bauer helped her. Shane stayed too. Paloma stepped down to Ilya once more. She didn’t touch him, but only briefly touched Caba on the shoulder.
“Keep him alive!”
Caba nodded.
“That was my intention.”
The goods lift rumbled again, this time empty enough for people making their way to a Danish princess.
Stromberg went in first. Klebb followed him and held her access card to the reader to authorise the journey upwards. Anya, Claudia and Paloma stepped in, each with a different idea of how to save the world. Mutoi, Komarova, Kalaschek, Höller, Kromoser and Eder followed as unusually stiff, unusually serious Austrian witnesses.
Magnus and Köck brought up the rear of the strange delegation before the freight lift doors closed.