The Lions of Lucerne

by Brad Thor

  Even though there was a huge chunk of his memory missing, it wasn’t hard to figure out that his detail had been ambushed and he had been drugged, kidnapped, and then taken someplace very far away. He only hoped Amanda hadn’t been harmed. He tried to convince himself that she had made it back to the house safely. Scot Harvath was on her detail, and he was one of the best. He wouldn’t have let anything happen to her. She had to be all right. She was all right. Anything else was unthinkable. Losing his wife had been painful enough, but if anything happened to Amanda, he didn’t know if he could go on living.

  For now, though his body was weak and he had no sense of time, his mind was strong and he vowed to hold on. The United States would not allow its president to languish in a cell in the middle of some godforsaken desert. His salvation would come. He would be getting out, and getting out alive. This would be the only thought he would allow his mind to entertain. He had a daughter to get back to and a country to lead.

  The president’s interior pep talk was interrupted by the sound of the bolt sliding back from his cell door. Two large men entered wearing desert fatigues and kaffiyeh headdresses that covered their faces. One was carrying a Kalashnikov AK-47 machine gun, and the other had one hand hidden behind his back. The man with the machine gun gestured for the president to move back against the wall.

  Instead of moving, Rutledge rose to his full height and said, “I demand to speak with whoever’s in charge here. Now!”

  For a moment, both of the men stood still, shocked into immobility by the outrageous insolence of their prisoner. The shock wore off quickly, though, and the guard with the machine gun covered the distance across the cell to the president in a fraction of a second. He raised the butt of his weapon and was preparing to strike Rutledge when the other man stopped him with what sounded to Rutledge like a quick stream of angry Arabic.

  The guard lowered his weapon. The president began to breathe a sigh of relief, which immediately caught in his throat as the other man, who had been steadily moving toward him, grabbed him by the wrist and plunged a long hypodermic needle into his arm.

  48

  At precisely 12:20, Scot Harvath’s train pulled into Interlaken Ost’s tiny station. Using the stairs in the center of the platform, he descended into the pedestrian tunnel and reemerged two tracks over at the main station house. He fished in his pockets for the change from the soda and bag of chips he had bought from the roaming snack cart on the train, and came up with the right amount for a locker. He placed his bag inside, deposited the money, and withdrew the key. On a counter with train schedules and tourism brochures was a customer-comment form that could be folded over and sealed. He took one and began writing in it:

  If you’re going to have a cocktail, you’ve gotta go for it. Nothing beats a full-double-full-full martini. I’ll be at the one place in Interlaken that has a lot of soul.

  Sealing the envelope, Harvath walked outside into the bright sunshine. Sitting among a cluster of backpacks, skis, and snowboards was a group of loud American kids. They were either travelers or exchange students off for a long weekend of fun in the Alps. The one thing that was for sure was that they were all heading to the most popular youth hostel in Interlaken, Balmer’s.

  “Hi there,” said Harvath.

  “Hi yourself,” said a cute blond girl with a nose ring.

  “Waiting for the Balmer’s van?”

  “Yeah. Lucky it’s such a nice day and we can sit outside. Glad I brought my sunblock. It could be a blistering weekend if it stays this bright.”

  “You never know in the Alps. Listen, I was wondering if you might be able to do me a favor.”

  “That depends,” said the girl coyly.

  “Yeah, right,” said Scot, smiling. “I’ve been split up from my friends, and I’m not sure if they are coming in on the next train or maybe got here earlier. The lady, Jackie, who runs the hostel, knows us from last year. Would you mind giving this note to one of the desk staff for her when you check in?” He handed her the sealed note.

  “Sure. No problem. So you’re staying at Balmer’s too?”

  “Yeah. We’re here doing a bit of boarding. Supposed to be some really nice fresh powder coming in.”

  “Well, maybe I’ll see you later.”

  “Maybe. Thanks for delivering my note.”

  “My pleasure.”

  Scot walked back into the station and waited for the Balmer’s van to pick up the Americans before heading out to the main street known as the Höheweg, where he turned right and walked toward town.

  Interlaken had always been one of Scot’s favorite places in Europe. The name Interlaken meant “between the lakes” and it was exactly that, nestled between sparkling Lake Thun and Lake Brienz. Water surrounded the town in the form of deep blue lakes, bubbling fountains, rushing rivers, thundering waterfalls, and crystal-clear streams. Harvath marveled all over again as he walked by the fin de siècle palaces that stood as a reminder of Interlaken’s role as a health spa mecca in the second half of the nineteenth century.

  He passed the Hotel du Nord on his left and the Restaurant des Alpes just after, on his right. The next sight to greet him was the enormous expanse of park known as the Höhematte. If I’m lucky, maybe I’ll be back here in the fall, sitting in the Höhematte, sipping Sekt and enjoying the jazz festival, Scot thought to himself.

  At the far end of the park was the Jungfraustrasse and the Schuh Café. If Jackie was in and received his note, this was where she would meet him. The name of the café and its English equivalent were pronounced the same and meant the same thing, “shoe.” Knowing Jackie, she would be quick enough to make the connection between soul and sole. Full-double-full-full was a very difficult aerial ski jump and was Scot’s last winner before leaving the ski team. His old friend loved martinis, and since Scot had been the one to turn her on to them, he was pretty certain she’d be able to figure out who the note was from and what it meant.

  Scot entered the tourist information office directly across the street and pretended to read brochures as he watched the front door of the café. Twenty minutes later, he saw a shock of bright red hair and a face full of freckles that could belong to only one person. Waiting first to make sure she wasn’t being followed, he then pocketed the brochure he was holding about Jungfrau region tours, left the information office, and crossed the busy street to the café.

  Jackie Kreppler had her back to him as he entered. She was scanning the room, and he sneaked up behind her, covering her eyes with his hands.

  “Quick. How do you get fifty freestylers into a shoe box?” said Harvath.

  “Tell them it’s going to have a sponsor!” squealed Jackie, who spun right around to hug him. “What are you doing here? This is amazing!”

  “I was in the neighborhood and thought I’d drop in.”

  “Let me look at you,” she said, pushing him away from her, but holding on to his forearms. “Nice hairdo. So you’ve quit government work and have gone back to the ski team?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “I’m sure the president just loves this hairstyle. Very understated…very subtle. Is this some way of distracting attention away from him on assignments, because I’m sure it works. And are those brown contacts you’re wearing? Why would you want to go and hide those beautiful blue eyes?”

  The initial happiness Scot felt at seeing her was quickly fading under the weight of the real reason he had come to Interlaken. “Can we get a table?”

  “Sure,” responded Jackie, who said something to the maître d’ in Swiss German that Scot couldn’t understand. They were led to a small table against the far wall, away from the window. Jackie withdrew a pack of cigarettes and lit one.

  “From elite, world-class athlete to smoker, who would have guessed?” said Scot.

  “You try living in Europe for over ten years, married to a smoker, and not get hooked. I only have one once in a while and only when I drink. I know it’s no excuse, but hey. What do you want?” said Jackie as a
waiter approached their table.

  “Ein grosses Bier,” said Scot.

  “Und einen Kir, bitte.”

  The waiter nodded politely and left.

  They made small talk about Interlaken and how the season was going; then Jackie took a drag on her cigarette and launched into a rapid-fire series of questions. “Okay, enough chitchat. I want to know everything that’s going on with you. What you’ve been doing. Who you’ve been dating. Why I haven’t heard from you in such a long time, and most of all, how you are able to get time off during one of the biggest crises to hit the United States.”

  Scot saw the waiter coming back and decided to hold off on answering. The man set down their drinks along with a bowl full of heavily salted homemade potato chips and left again. Jackie dug right in.

  “Where did you want me to start?” asked Scot.

  “I don’t know,” said Jackie between bites. “Start wherever you want. What are you doing here? Vacation?”

  “No, it’s not a vacation. I’m in trouble and I need your help.”

  “Trouble? What do you mean, ‘trouble’?”

  Scot was quiet.

  “Does this have something to do with the president’s kidnapping?”

  His faced must have betrayed his reaction, as she said, “Don’t look so surprised. It’s big news everywhere.”

  The fact that the kidnapping of the president was making headlines around the world was no surprise. What surprised him was Jackie’s ability to put it all together so fast. She had always been able to read him so well. Even though they had been only kids when they dated on the ski team, Scot had thought she might be the one for him. When his father died, though, his life had been turned upside down. By the time he had gotten his act together, Jackie was deeply involved with a Swiss skier whom she would eventually marry. All that remained for the two of them was to be good friends. Even though Scot had the best of intentions, he seemed to keep falling out of touch, not only with Jackie, but with a lot of people who mattered to him. He always blamed his work for keeping him too busy, but as he looked across the table at Jackie, he realized he had only himself to blame for dropping the ball. She was even more beautiful now than during their days on the ski team. She was quite a woman, cigarettes notwithstanding.

  “How’s the hostel doing, Jackie? Every time I’m in a bookstore, I pick up guidebooks on Switzerland and there you are. The Kreppler family must have been real happy to gain such a shrewd manager cum daughter-in-law,” he said.

  “Let’s not forget the lucky husband who got such a fabulous wife either.”

  “We can’t forget the husband. How is old Rolf?”

  “The same as ever,” Jackie answered, taking a sip of her Kir. “Now, quit dancing around the subject and tell me what you mean by being ‘in trouble.’ Were you there when the kidnapping happened?”

  “This has got to stay between you and me.”

  “Of course. Who do ya think you’re talking to? I’m the same old Jackie. We’ll make sure the tongue stays in the ol’ Schuh. My lips are sealed. Besides, you’re the one who came looking for me.”

  She was right. Scot needed her help, although only minimally. He didn’t want her to get too involved. He took a deep breath and then began his story. “Yes, I was there. I was one of the only two survivors, last I heard. Most of the agents were either buried alive in the avalanche or…” Scot hesitated.

  “Or, what? What happened?”

  “Or they were shot to death.”

  “Shot to death? That’s terrible.”

  “It gets worse. A woman I was good friends with and a friend of hers were killed Tuesday night, not long after I had drinks with them, and I’m now the number one suspect in their murder.”

  Jackie would never have succeeded at professional poker playing. Her face went from rapt attention to all-out shock. “Murder? You?” she managed.

  “Yup, and it looks like my gun, which was stolen from my apartment, was used to kill them. Also, several large deposits were coincidentally made to my bank account right around the time of their murders and the kidnapping of the president.”

  “Are the two events connected?”

  “In too many people’s minds right now, I’m the connection. I have been framed both for the murders and for being the inside leak that helped the kidnappers take the president.”

  “But I thought the Secret Service thought so highly of you. The few times I heard from you, it sounded like everything was so great.”

  “It was great.”

  “Well, what about your boss? Your superiors? They know you. They should be able to vouch for what kind of a person you are. Surely they know you weren’t involved with any of this.”

  Her vote of confidence meant more to him than she would ever know. “The problem is that my immediate supervisor, who was also my very good friend, was killed in the kidnapping and the next boss up is somehow involved in all of this on a very bad level.”

  “Aren’t there any people higher up than him?”

  “Yes, there are, but the evidence against me is pretty overwhelming. The last I spoke with them, they invited me to come in so I could prove my innocence.”

  “Prove your innocence? Whatever happened to ‘innocent until proven guilty’?”

  “That’s why I’ve always liked you, Jackie. You get right to the point. Those were my feelings exactly.”

  “So, you fled here to Switzerland? Are you trying to avoid extradition?”

  “No.”

  “Well, forgive me if I’m overstepping my bounds, but I think I know you well enough. If you are innocent, and I believe that you are, doesn’t running only make it harder for you in the end?”

  “Depends on how you look at it.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You see, I know I didn’t do it, and so do the people who are trying to frame me.”

  “Okay…”

  “Well, they seem to have changed their minds about framing me and tried twice yesterday to kill me.”

  Jackie drew in a sharp breath. “Are you okay? They didn’t hurt you, did they?”

  Scot smiled. “You know me. I’m bulletproof. They’re going to have to try a lot harder than that.”

  “They’d better not. So what now? Do you plan on hiding out over here until things cool down? Do you need money—?”

  “No, I’m okay in the money department for now, but thanks. I have a few leads I want to follow up—”

  “Leads? Over here?”

  They were getting into tricky territory, and Scot chose his words very carefully. “There are some people I need to track down and talk to who might be able to help me out. When the time is right, hopefully I’ll have my ducks in a row and will be able to go home. In the meantime, nobody can know I’m here.”

  “Well, I won’t say anything.”

  “I appreciate that. I also need to ask you a favor.”

  “What kind of favor?”

  “I need a place to stay.”

  The look on her face said it all. She really wanted to help him, but what he was asking was a major imposition. Despite the camaraderie that existed between all of the freestyle skiers, even if they were from different countries, Jackie’s husband had always viewed Scot as competition both on and off the hill. Rolf was extremely jealous of him and was not happy with the way Scot occasionally showed up for a visit or a letter from him would appear in the post. Scot’s last visit had not gone well, and Jackie and Rolf had fought for over a week when he forbade her to ever see or speak to Scot again. Rolf would prefer that he was out of Jackie’s life for good.

  “You know you’re not Rolf’s favorite person.”

  “I know, and I have felt bad about it ever since I was last here. I didn’t mean to upset him.”

  “I think it’s more his problem than anything else. He’s always felt threatened by you.”

  “I don’t know why. He’s a good-looking guy with a beautiful wife and both a successful business and political career.
He’s still active in politics here, isn’t he?”

  “Oh, yeah. More than ever. Listen, like I said, the whole thing between you two was always his problem more than anything else.”

  “Jackie, I’m sorry to put you out. If I thought there was anywhere else I could go, I would. It’s just I’ve got some very heavy things to work out, and I need to stay somewhere safe. I don’t think anyone would come looking for me at your place. I know this is a burden, but I need your help.”

  Chewing on her bottom lip, she swirled the raspberry-colored liquid in her wineglass. “In one sense you’re lucky. First, I was around to get your message. You think you’re so smart. Full-double-full-full? You don’t think if Rolf had gotten that note he wouldn’t have been suspicious?”

  Scot grinned sheepishly.

  “Second,” said Jackie, ignoring the cute look on Scot’s face, “he’s in Bern for a week with his political party, so it won’t be too tough to keep you hidden away.”

  Harvath breathed a sigh of relief as Jackie continued, “We’ve been rehabbing part of the Herberge for the summer. I can put you in one of the completed rooms, and no one should even notice. There’s a lot of sawdust in the halls, you still have to use coins for hot showers, and there will be no maid service, but my guess is you’re willing to accept the room under those conditions.”

  “You are absolutely right. I owe you big time.”

  “Yes, you do. Now, how do I get you the key?” wondered Jackie as she bit down once again on her pouty, strawberry pink lip. “Ah. I’ll leave it with a note under one of the garbage cans in the alley behind the main building. We have about six cans, all painted bright red. One of them is smaller than the others. I’ll put it under there. All I ask is that you use the back stairs and try not to draw any attention to yourself.”

  “Believe me, I have no intention of doing that.”

  “Could have fooled me with that haircut and dye job of yours.”

  They both laughed, and Scot reached across the table and took Jackie’s soft, freckled hand. She tensed at first and then relaxed.

  “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this, Jackie. I don’t know who else I could have turned to.”