He led the way to the one she had requested, by the window just inside the dining section. She had chosen it because of its proximity to the entrance, allowing her to see anyone coming in – and also in case she and Eddie needed to leave in a hurry. She sat looking back towards the bar, Miller facing her. ‘Two waters,’ he told Simon brusquely. The waiter hurried away.

Miller checked no other diners were within earshot before he spoke. ‘So. What do you want?’

‘I want to know why you sent mercenaries to attack the expedition to iceberg D43,’ she replied. ‘Why you stole a coffin containing the body of someone who lived over a hundred thousand years ago – and why your men tried to kill me in Hamburg to get hold of the key that opens it.’

He blinked, taken aback by the barrage of accusations. ‘Hamburg? You were— You’re not a journalist, are you?’

‘I’m not,’ she answered stonily. Behind him, she saw Eddie re-enter the bar. ‘I’m Nina Wilde.’

Miller stiffened, eyes widening before he covered his shock with clench-lipped indignation. ‘So you brought me here under false pretences? I’ve got nothing to say to you.’ He started to stand—

‘Ay up,’ said Eddie, putting a hand on his shoulder and pushing him firmly down. ‘Not leaving already, are you? You only just arrived.’

‘And that’s my husband, Eddie Chase,’ Nina told Miller. ‘If you know anything about him, you won’t try to stand up again until he lets you. He was in the SAS; he could kill you with his bare hands in a crowded room and make it look like a heart attack.’

Eddie gave Nina a crooked grin – the statement was a considerable exaggeration of his lethality – but Miller abandoned any further attempts to rise. ‘All right,’ said the Englishman, giving the younger man a patronising pat on the back before sitting between him and Nina, ‘now we can have a nice little chat.’

Miller eyed him nervously. ‘If I shout for help, the staff will have security in here in less than a minute.’

‘If you shout for help, you’ll have a fork in each fucking eyeball,’ Eddie replied mildly, picking up two examples of said silverware and slowly flipping them over between his fingers. ‘Just answer our questions, and you’ll get to keep enjoying the view.’

‘Start talking,’ said Nina. ‘Why did you steal the coffin?’

‘The coffin,’ Miller repeated, agitated. ‘Look, what happened in Hamburg was a mistake, okay? I sent Harhund and his men, but that was, ah . . . premature. ’He looked down at the table, almost as if ashamed; his attitude was more that of a child being told off than the head of a multinational corporation. The arrogance quickly returned, though. ‘But I didn’t tell Harhund to kill anyone!’