Wednesday: The Pick-Up

On Wednesday, the same driver arrived at the exact scheduled time. When he asked for Mr. A . Michel at the front desk, I was watching from behind one of the lounge couches. I stood up and when he saw me, he made the same polite smile: "Your car is ready, sir".
"Very well...Let's go then".
He  made a short nodd and preceeded me outside: he didn't ask for the others and I made a mental bow to the man's professionalism. The same black Mercedes was parked near the Hotel entrance. He opened the rear door for me, and took his place behind the wheel.
"Drive to the end of the street please, my friends are there waiting" I asked.
Again the same polite smile. The big Mercedes came alive and he did as I told him. Ed and Johnny were at the corner and I opened the door for them. "We can go, now".
"Very well, sir". We crossed the streets of Monte-Carlo packed with people: Prince Albert and his fiancée are getting married very soon, and I suppose the guests and papparazzi started to arrive already. It did crossed my mind that it was a good time to be in Monaco: there's always a lot of tourists here, but now, with so many strangers arriving, there is no way anybody is going to notice three more foreigners.

The roads on the hills above Monte-Carlo: the sharp drop on the left
gives you the general idea...

After leaving Monte-Carlo, the car started to climb the roads of the Principality that lead to the hills. Dozens of impressive villas and mansions passed by, most with tall gates and large walls. The monegasque population is not what you would call your average Joe, if you know what I mean. With a professional eye we noticed the remote controlled cameras and the intrusion sensors on top of many walls.

Some of the houses had French Gendarmes standing guard outside: holliday homes of either members of the French Government or foreign Ambassadors or VIP's. At a certain point, we all smiled: One of the gates had a french policeman on one side and an Arab with a Kalashnikov on the other. Funny.
The Mercedes kept climbing the narrow and twisted roads with ease, left corner, right corner, left corner, right corner... No wonder late Princess Grace (former Hollywood diva Grace Kelly) died in a terrible car accident in one of these roads.

After 45 minutes, we came to a halt in front of a green iron gate with cameras on both pillars. The gates opened, and, as we entered a large driveway, I could see two guys in dark suits, with walkie-talkies: bodyguards. In front of the building, two more suit-like types. The three of us exchanged glances; That was going to happen a lot in the next two hours.
The house itself was what I considered a "chateau" or a large manor if you want (not that I'm an expert or anything). As the driver took us inside, I had the distinct feeling this was not a place where people would usually live: too many closed windows, no servants on sight, furniture too neat, very few tire marks on the driveway. "Probably rented on purpose for this meeting" I tought.
A man on his fifties, slim, white hair, was waiting for us downstairs: "Welcome, gentlemen" he said, with a short smile and an unmistakeable "Swiss" accent.
He waved his hand for us to follow him: "Everybody is here already" he said, while we followed him upstairs. "We were just waiting for you gentlemen to arrive". He knocked on a door, and entered, with us on trail. The room was probably tought to be used as a library, as it had bookshelves in all four walls and in the center a long table and chairs. Six people were already sitting at the table, and faces turned as we entered. I recognized two of them, a man and a woman. That's when I understood we were in BIG trouble.