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His eyes closed for a few seconds, then opened. “Neither of us is fit to open the door,” he said when we heard a second knock.
“Should we ask him to come back?”
Zeppelin shook his head. “If we don’t leave now, I may never let you out of this bed.”
While that didn’t sound half bad, I feared if we took things any further sexually, we’d both regret it. “Ask him for five more minutes.”
He nodded and rolled from the bed. “Be right out,” he shouted.
“I’ll be waiting in the sleigh,” a voice that sounded much like Macht’s shouted back.
“Good evening, Mr. and Mrs. Evans,”the Swiss agent said when we joined him several minutes later. Like Bernard, he helped us into the sleigh. Unlike the other driver, he didn’t offer any hot cocoa.
“The ambassador is dining alone this evening,” he reported when we were halfway between the chalet and the lodge.
“Did you recognize the woman he was dining with earlier at Fondetta?” I asked.
“Negative,” he responded. “It was the first time I saw him with her.”
“What is your area of expertise, Macht?” asked Zeppelin.
“My team focuses on counterintelligence as well as covert diplomatic support for people like Schön’s uncle.”
“Her uncle?” Zeppelin and I asked at the same time.
“Ambassador Marchand.”
At least that explained how the woman was able to get the man to do her bidding. The idea that she may have used “other means” made me sick to my stomach.
“Are you available to meet with us after dinner?” Zeppelin asked.
“Yes. I am scheduled to provide your return ride to the chalet.”
“Excellent,” Zep responded, putting his arm around my shoulders when the lodge was in view. Like I had on our first sleigh ride, I rested my head on his shoulder.
“Reaper, err, American businessman Kevin McNamara is also dining in the lodge this evening. His table is one over from the ambassador’s,” said Macht before he pulled up near the valet area.
Once we were inside, we learned he’d arranged for our rounded booth to be in full view of the former ambassador’s table, but in order to see us, he would’ve had to switch seats.
“He seems agitated,” I leaned in and whispered a few minutes after we’d arrived. In that time, Godwin had alternated between typing something on his mobile and all but slamming the device on the table, only to pick it up and repeat the process.
Less than five minutes later, Godwin stood and left, seemingly before his dinner was served.
“Macht’s on him,” Zep reported, looking at his mobile at the same time I made eye contact with Reaper, who waited several seconds, then followed Godwin out of the dining room.
“I’m starting to feel guilty,” I said, taking a sip of the wine Zeppelin ordered.
“About?”
“We haven’t done much since our arrival in St. Moritz we couldn’t have accomplished from Shere.”
He leaned in and nuzzled my neck. “I beg to differ, my darling Elise.”
I turned my head, and we kissed.
“Can you imagine the look on everyone’s faces if I attempted kissing you at the command center?” He chuckled. “The look on your face alone?” When I felt my face flush, Zep stopped laughing and stroked my cheek with his fingertip. “I promise I’m not poking fun.”
I hated to admit it, but I was on the verge of tears. “You aren’t?”
