The Lions of Lucerne

by Brad Thor

  “Okay, two separate groups, then. But why?”

  “I have an idea who is behind the American team, but not the team from the Ice Palace at the Jungfraujoch. That team spoke German—”

  “You said that. You also said it didn’t sound like German German, right?”

  “It sounded like Swiss German, but it was only a couple of words. That’s pretty hard to nail an accent with.”

  “Let’s assume for a moment that you’re correct on the accent. You said they also spoke Serbian?”

  “Yes. That I am certain of.”

  Herman leaned backward in his chair. He appeared to be staring at the ceiling, studying the wine-colored tiles that ran between the old wooden beams. Harvath knew he was thinking, turning something over in his mind.

  “You are absolutely certain that your FBI and the rest of the U.S. government is wrong about Fatah?”

  “I don’t know. I do know there is no way the Fatah, if they are even involved, could have pulled off something like this on their own. We can be sure they had inside help from people within my government.”

  “And you’re positive you are on the correct path?”

  “Positive? I don’t think anyone can be positive on something like this. All I know is that somebody else thinks I’m on the right path.”

  “What do you mean, ‘somebody else thinks’?”

  “I think the attempts on my life, two of them just yesterday in Switzerland, make for a pretty strong case that I’m on to something.”

  “I agree. I also agree that this entire situation does not seem to fit the Fatah. Someone is using them as some sort of smoke screen.”

  “So, if we’re on the same page, who do you think would be capable of an attack like this and kidnapping the president?”

  “You’re right that it would have been undertaken by a group with exceptional mountaineering and military skills. They could have come from Germany or, like you said, France, Italy, Austria, or…”

  “Or?”

  “You are sure that what you heard in the Ice Palace was two men, the same who had been shooting at you, speaking Serbian?”

  “It’s one of the few things in this whole mess that I am totally positive about.”

  “Then that narrows the field considerably.”

  59

  “What the hell happened?” yelled Senator Snyder into the scramble phone in his study as Senator Rolander looked on.

  “We acquired the target, but there was another interested party already present,” replied the hired killer.

  “Another interested party? Who were they?”

  “We have no idea. They made their move before we had a chance, so we hung back.”

  “What happened?” asked Rolander.

  Snyder cupped the mouthpiece and addressed Rolander. “The girl led the team right to him, but someone else made a move before they had a chance to take him out.”

  “Shit. Then they know about him.”

  “They must know something,” said Snyder as he turned his attention back to the phone. “What happened then?”

  “The target evaded the shooters, and we followed him. When we tried to close out the contract, he managed to get away.”

  “He got away? Maybe I haven’t been clear. You and your associates are not being paid for him to get away. You are being paid to take him out! I can’t believe this. That’s the third time. Harvath must be eliminated.”

  “He will be.”

  “Do you have any idea where he is now?”

  “No, but we’re working on it.”

  “What about the girl?”

  “She disappeared. We had to stick with our target. She shouldn’t be too hard to find, though.”

  “She’d better not be. And I’d better not hear about any more failed attempts. You get that slippery son of a bitch and you take him out once and for all. Do you understand me?”

  The killer didn’t have a chance to respond. Snyder had already slammed down the phone.

  60

  They rode in silence toward the Munich airport as the long mono-wiper of Herman’s Mercedes beat a steady rhythm against the windshield and the steadily falling snow. Scot was processing the information Herman had spent the last hour sharing with him.

  When NATO forces had been brought in to keep the peace in Kosovo, it had been divided into several sectors—French, German, Italian, and so forth. Despite the presence of NATO, emotions and tempers on both sides still raged very hot. Serbians had hit lists of Albanians they wanted dead and vice-versa. Much of this involved the ordinary citizenry, but there were also very high ranking military, political, and business people who had extremely nasty bones to pick with their enemies, but who were being watched so closely that they didn’t dare act.

  Realizing there was a need for their services, a band of highly trained killers put themselves on the market in Yugoslavia. Nothing was beneath them. They had no problem killing, raping, torturing, or maiming men, women, or children…anyone was fair game as long as the price was right. What’s more, they specialized in assignments that were considered impossible. There was no security system they could not breach. No hiding place that couldn’t be uncovered. Once they had your scent, it was said, it was time to make your peace with God.

  “You’re sure the killers were Swiss?” said Harvath, breaking their silence. “And the NATO soldiers acted as go-betweens?”

  “That’s what my contact told me. Remember that much like Berlin after World War Two, Kosovo was divided into sectors controlled by troops from specific countries. As Swiss, the assassins were fluent in French, German, Italian, and English. They only interacted with the people right below the top of the different military commands. The ‘seconds.’ These soldiers were hungry for profit, and the killers took very good care of them. If there was an Albanian, a Serb…anyone in their sector that needed a job done, these soldiers arranged it.”

  Scot had seen it before, and it made him sick. “Those soldiers were there to keep the peace, not to facilitate murders for hire.”

  “What are you Americans so fond of saying, ‘War is hell’? Most of the NATO soldiers were risking their lives daily in a country that they hadn’t even heard of or thought about since geography class in primary school. Lots of people were getting rich. Why not them? And if a couple of bad guys want to rub each other out, who cares?”

  “I understand the mentality, Herman; I just never agreed with it.”

  “No, but that’s not what we’re talking about.”

  “You’re right. I’m getting away from the point. So, we know that the hired killers were a group of Swiss. Do we know where they were from in Switzerland? Were they military? Police of some sort?”

  Herman pulled at his large nose. “My contact stated that no one seemed to know where in Switzerland these men were from or what they looked like. No one knew what their background was, only that they were extremely qualified.”

  “How were they contacted when a hit was to be ordered?”

  “Through a series of dead drops.”

  “What else did your contact tell you?”

  “Apparently, the killers were known as the Lions.”

  “The Lions? Why Lions?”

  “I thought maybe the NATO soldiers gave the name to them to put more of a ‘face’ on the people they were dealing with, but my contact made it very clear that it was how the killers identified themselves. Just a whisper of the word was enough to send people into hiding.”

  “Can you get any more information about them for me?”

  “I don’t think so. The Lions supposedly stopped operating in Yugoslavia and could be dead for all we know.”

  “Dead? They might be, but I doubt it. One thing is for certain, though, if they are alive and if these are the people I’m looking for, I promise you, they will be dead very soon.”

  61

  The drive back from Munich was grueling. Twenty minutes after Herman dropped Scot at the airport parking lot to retrieve his car and he
was on the autobahn, a deep fatigue had set in. The psychological stress from the past several days and the physical damage to his body both came calling at once. The two cans of Red Bull he had with him and coffees at every other truck stop along his route kept him going until he got back to Interlaken and could finally drop onto his bed and slide into a deep sleep.

  It felt as though only five minutes had passed before he drifted into a dream about Jackie. He could hear her concern for him in her voice, but for some reason he could not see her face. She was worried. Should she call a doctor? Was he all right? There was blood, she said. Not as much as before, but a little. Are you sure? she asked. I didn’t know what to do. Yes, I do care about him.

  Her voice grew louder, but Scot still could not see her. A light shone and it, too, grew brighter. As he got closer to Jackie’s voice, the light grew in intensity. He found his eyelids opening of their own free will, even though all he wanted to do was sleep. Soon, he was able to see through the light and make out shapes. Jackie’s voice was still with him, but where was she? He blinked his eyes through the mist, trying to focus. There was a figure at the end of his bed. The voice continued, but the figure wasn’t speaking. The voice was coming from somewhere else. Harvath shut his eyes tightly, trying to clear his vision. When he opened them, he was terrified by what he saw.

  It was her! The woman from the Ice Palace. She was sitting at the foot of his bed. Was this a dream? Some sort of hallucination? Out of sheer instinct, he reacted.

  He rolled to his right and reached for the nine-millimeter Beretta that Herman had given him before saying good-bye last night. His hand fumbled clumsily along the nightstand. It was gone. But how? He had placed it right there before he went—

  “Looking for this?” said the woman, holding up the pistol. “Or maybe, this?” she said as she raised the replica Glock. Now Harvath knew he wasn’t dreaming. “Please tell me you didn’t carry a toy to the Jungfraujoch yesterday. It will only make me think less of you,” said the woman.

  Scot was trapped. There was no way he could spring from where he was and get to her before she got a shot off. The situation seemed hopeless.

  From out of the corner of his left eye he saw a hand approach his face, and automatically he reached out and grabbed it by the wrist. He twisted it hard.

  “Scot! Stop it. You’re hurting me. It’s me, Jackie. It’s okay. Calm down.”

  “Jackie?” he said, confused. “I don’t understand. Are you okay? She didn’t try to hurt you, did she? If she did, I’ll—”

  “No, Scot, of course she didn’t try to hurt me. I’m okay.”

  “I was so careful. I thought I made sure no one was following me. I must have led them here. Jackie, I’m sorry. I never intended to get you this involved.”

  “Scot, relax. This is Claudia Mueller. She’s a friend of ours.”

  “What do you mean, she’s a friend?” asked Scot warily.

  “Rolf and I know her from Bern.”

  “What’s she doing here?”

  “I’ve been worried about you,” Jackie said as she tried again, this time without meeting resistance, to apply a cold compress to Scot’s forehead. “I knew you didn’t want me to call a doctor, but I didn’t know what to do. You have been asleep for so long.”

  “Jackie, you’re not answering my question.”

  “Remember when I said I thought I knew someone who could help you?”

  “Yes, and I told you I didn’t need any help.”

  “But she can help you. She helped me and Rolf, and it was the same kind of help you need now.”

  “What are you talking about? She’s a killer.”

  “Scot, listen to me. During the last election there were some threats against Rolf. Claudia works with the Federal Attorney’s Office. She was part of the investigation into the threats and helped arrange security for us. We spent a lot of time together. You can trust her.”

  Scot stared at Claudia. “Jackie, I want you to trust me. There is absolutely no way this woman is on our side.”

  “Scot, you’re delirious. You haven’t moved since last night when I came in to pick up your tray.”

  “Jack, I’m okay,” Harvath said as he pushed himself up into a sitting position with two pillows propped behind his back. “I was gone all night. I got back early this morning and was exhausted. I guess I was so out of it I didn’t hear you come into the room.”

  “And wherever you were,” began Claudia, “I assume that’s where you got this,” referring to Herman’s gun.

  “Hold it just a second,” said Scot as Jackie offered him a glass of juice. “I’m going to be the one asking questions here, okay? Being held at gunpoint by the same person twice in less than twenty-four hours allows me that privilege. So, first, who the hell are you?”

  “You have already been told that. I’m Claudia Mueller of the Federal Attorney’s Office.”

  “And you just happened to be up at the Ice Palace yesterday at the same time I was, and just happened to stick a gun in my back, and just happened to have two men with you who tried to kill me?”

  “I had nothing to do with the men who were shooting at us in the Ice Palace.”

  “‘Us’? What do you mean?”

  “You do understand English, don’t you?”

  “Enough to get by,” he replied smugly.

  “I mean,” said Claudia, who ignored Scot’s sarcasm, “they were shooting at us. You and me. I have no idea who they were.”

  “And you probably have no idea about who was then shooting at me in Wengen only an hour later?”

  “I know one thing: it wasn’t the men from the Ice Palace.”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  “Because those two were still at the Jungfraujoch an hour later.”

  “How do you know?” Scot asked as he continued to look her over. She was gorgeous, but he couldn’t shake his first impression of her. Funny how a gun jammed in your back could do that.

  “I know because I was there too. I was trying to find you while avoiding them. It wasn’t easy. I don’t know how you managed to slip away. You must be quite clever.”

  “I have my days, but yesterday sure wasn’t one of them. Someone else managed to find me, and they turned Wengen into a shooting gallery. I was lucky to get away with only this.” Harvath pointed to his left arm and noticed that a small amount of blood had seeped through the bandage. He started to unravel it, but Jackie quickly sat down next to him and took over.

  “Do you have any idea who it was that tried to shoot at you in Wengen?”

  “They weren’t trying to shoot at me; they actually were shooting at me; and besides, I said I would ask the questions here. What were you doing at the Ice Palace in the first place, and why did you pull a gun on me?”

  “You know what, guys? I have got a ton of stuff to get done,” said Jackie. “I think I am going to leave you two alone.” Catching the look in Scot’s eye, she added, “Don’t worry. You’ll be perfectly safe with Claudia. She’s extremely tough. She climbs mountains in her spare time for fun. Did you know that?” Beckoning to Claudia, she said, “Why don’t you finish changing this dressing for me. There’s only been a little bleeding, but the stitches are all still intact. It looks like he’ll mend. Another toughie. You two’ll get along fine.”

  Getting up, Jackie patted the place on the bed where she’d been sitting next to Scot. Claudia stood up and set the guns from her lap onto the chair and made her way to the bed. She took a roll of clean gauze from Jackie and began wrapping Scot’s arm. Jackie closed the door behind her.

  “As I said, I work for the Federal Attorney’s Office in Bern, which is called the Bundesanwaltschaft. I was following a suspect in an ongoing investigation who had been using a post office box in Interlaken—”

  “Wait a second, are you or are you not ‘Aunt Jane’?”

  “I am not.”

  “Then what the hell were you doing at the Ice Palace?”

  “I think I can make the situation
somewhat clearer if you’ll allow me.”

  “Be my guest.”

  “Once a week, my suspect travels to the post office to check for mail. He is a creature of habit, typical Swiss, very methodical and always comes on the same day at normally the same time, so I have a certain window in which I know I can check the box to see if he has received anything that might help me in tying him to my case.”

  “Tying him to your case? Is he a suspect or not?”

  “I haven’t been able to gather enough evidence yet, but I know he is somehow involved. I have what you Americans refer to, I believe, as a hunch.”

  “Yes, hunch is the correct word. But that’s legal in Switzerland? Reading someone’s mail? Please, not so tight on the bandage.”

  “I know what I am doing, Agent Harvath.”

  “How do you know who I am?”

  “Which question should I answer first?” she said, giving Scot a little slack in his dressing before taping the gauze in place.

  “Lady’s choice.”

  “Pardon me?”

  “It means you choose, lady.”

  “I see. Like my suspect, I am also somewhat methodical and of course am Swiss, so I’ll take your questions in order. As far as the legality of investigating the suspect’s mail, it depends upon the severity of the charge and the investigator. And as for knowing who you are, Jackie told me everything.”

  “Everything?”

  “She cares about you a great deal and is very worried about you. Don’t be upset with her. She did the right thing in calling me. I was just as shocked to see you lying in that bed as you were to see me. I thought you had brought those two men to the Ice Palace to kill me.”

  “You? Why would I do that?”

  “Why does anyone commit murder? I’m sure the motivations are no different in Switzerland than they are in America. All I know is that after I picked up what I think I can correctly assume was your letter from the post box, I noticed I was being followed. I engaged in an evasive tactic—”

  “Crossing to the bakery.”