The helicopter touched down, a large man in a dark suit coming to the aircraft to open the door for Miller. He bent low and scurried from the pad. The two mercenaries followed, pulling Nina between them. They made a beeline for a veranda and went inside.

A tall and severe besuited man in his sixties greeted them, head tipped slightly back as if snootily regarding the new arrivals – even Miller – down his nose. ‘Good afternoon, Master Donny.’ His accent was refined English. ‘A pleasant flight, I hope?’

‘Not really, Broates,’ Miller replied, looking faintly seasick. ‘Where is she?’

‘Waiting for you in her study. She is eager to meet Professor Wilde.’ The way he said eager made Nina suspect he actually meant impatient.

Miller nodded. ‘Good, good. Okay, let’s go.’

Harhund and his comrade fell in behind Nina as Miller and Broates proceeded into the mansion. Its owner clearly had old-fashioned tastes; the walls were panelled in dark wood and the furniture was all either replica Victorian or actual examples from the era. They also liked it warm, Nina already finding the air uncomfortably stuffy.

The study was a large room overlooking the lake. Broates led the group inside. ‘Your son, and Professor Wilde,’ he said respectfully.

Within was a wizened old lady in a wheelchair. She sat hunched in the seat, right hand clawed around a control lever. Blue-rinsed hair rose in an elaborate beehive. Her face was pinched, wrinkled not only by age but by attitude. ‘About time,’ she snapped.

Miller stepped forward, hands raised in apology. ‘I came as quickly as I could, Mother.’

‘Not quickly enough. And you didn’t even get the key!’

‘It’s on the way. Chase will be here with it soon.’

‘As long as you haven’t screwed it up like everything else you touch.’ She pushed the lever, guiding the chair across the room to stop before Nina. ‘So you’re Professor Wilde.’

‘Yeah,’ said Nina, folding her arms. ‘And you are?’

The old woman gave her son a withering look. ‘You haven’t even told her?’

Miller couldn’t meet her iron gaze. ‘I figured the less she knew, the better—’

‘Well, you’re the expert on knowing less.’ Like Miller, her accent was American – Nina placed it as from one of the south-eastern states – but unlike his, there was no influence from her adoptive country. ‘Since my son doesn’t have the manners to make proper introductions, Professor Wilde, I’ll take the burden. As usual.’ She glared at Miller before turning back to her guest. ‘I’m Eleanor Miller, the founder of Miller & Family. And still having to keep a very hands-on role even though I’ve officially retired. It’s a pleasure to meet you.’

‘The pleasure’s all yours,’ Nina replied, scathing. ‘You’ll forgive me if I’m not exactly thrilled to meet someone who’s kidnapped me.’