than guard the pope.”
Near the Nydegg Bridge, Kyle saw the spire of the cathedral, and they slowly climbed a long set of sharply angling stone steps that took them upward toward the center of the ancient city. At the top, he checked his tourist map, orienting himself, then they moved on.
The attractive couple seemed to be something they were not. Instead of being a pair of love-struck tourists, Kyle and Lauren were making an in-depth reconnaissance of Bern, readying for the time, coming soon, when Jim Hall would have to break cover.
It was a meandering stroll, and Kyle constantly was on the lookout for places in which death might hide, might even be hiding at the moment. He would not discount the possibility that Hall had hired a countersurveillance team of his own. Moves and countermoves, the eternal survival game of life and death.
“It looks like a fairy tale,” Lauren said as they moved through the winding streets, with brightly colored statues on every corner. A small crowd had gathered before the fifteenth-century clock tower, and exactly at one o’clock a parade of carved animals, jesters, knights, and bears made their noisy journey about the clock face. She watched the clock. Swanson watched the crowd. Tourists of every shape and size, many with phone cameras and video recorders, making pictures of this Aesop’s Fables wonderland to show their friends. That worried him, but nothing could be done.
In a few minutes more, they were waiting at the Bear Pit. Lauren started tossing carrots to the three large and shaggy beasts, who ignored her treats. Two were sound asleep, and the third just sat there, digesting. The pit was littered with the uneaten food from earlier tourists.
A small, compact man in a gray business suit leaned his arms on the railing beside Kyle. His longish hair was swept back, and he had eyes like steel marbles. “They are treated like animal royalty. It is a long and boring story. My name is Commander Stefan Glamer, and today, I represent the Federal Criminal Police.” He let them glimpse the badge on his belt, then extended his hand, and both Lauren and Kyle shook it. It was a strong, firm grip. “The cantonment police asked for our help in this matter that you have brought to their attention. Fortunately, our base is at Worblaufen, which is not far from here.”
“We’re more than happy to have your guys handle it,” Kyle said. “We will just be along to assist the identification.”
As the plan had come together, General Middleton of Task Force Trident in Washington had put in a call to his counterpart with Einsatzgruppe (Task Force) TIGRIS in Switzerland. The existence of the special covert unit had been totally unknown to even the Swiss for many years. The press called them Supercops.
“Then let us go get some coffee and have a look at the bank plaza,” said Glamer, and they headed toward the bank. Glamer was one of the rare men who seemed unfazed by Lauren’s looks. Like Kyle, he looked like nothing was going on, but he was already hard at work, visually checking the dark shadows beneath the covered walkways. He led them to a little restaurant and, speaking German to the waitress, ordered some pastries and coffee.
“We have heard of you, Gunny Swanson. When this is over, I hope you will come out to the camp and talk to our sniper teams.”
Swanson raised his eyebrows. “I thought you guys might be hunting us.”
Glamer laughed softly. “That is old news. You and Agent Carson are no longer wanted by anyone for anything. You have not gone to the CIA with this?”
Lauren lifted the dainty cup of coffee and sipped. Strong, with a bite of liquor and an aroma that dazzled the senses. “I have an appointment to go meet with them at the American Legation and reestablish contact this evening. When I am satisfied about my reinstatement, I will advise them what is going on but insist that they stay out of your way. It will remain your operation, Commander Glamer.”
Kyle added a lump of sugar and stirred it in with a little spoon. “General Middleton thought it best to keep things unofficial to avoid any perception of a breach of neutrality. We consider this to be strictly an internal criminal matter for the Swiss to handle as they see fit. There are no American national interests involved, although the terrorist himself is an American.”
Glamer said, “I read his file. Former Marine and ex-CIA. And once a friend to you both.”
Lauren answered through gritted teeth. “Yes.”
Kyle put his own history out for the commander’s view. “He was even my instructor before he was my friend. I did not know what a crook he was until he retired and went rogue. Make no mistake, Commander Glamer, Jim Hall is still a dangerous man, a stone cold killer. Your people must take care.”
Glamer absently scratched an ear. “We have yet to have to fire a shot in any of the cases we have encountered and resolved. We will be prepared, of course, but it will be a nonlethal capture. How do you see things unfolding?”
Kyle pointed across the street, where a monolithic bank stood. It looked like a fortress at the far end of the narrow stone plaza. Traffic was minimal on the street that ran in front of it. “You scatter some people around outside, and Lauren will be in an overwatch position with them. I will be inside to confirm when he walks through the front door. You take him down.”
“When will this happen?”
“Soon. Maybe even tomorrow,” Kyle said, pushing away his coffee cup and saucer. “This is the last of his money, and it is at the one bank where he placed it beyond our reach, perhaps anticipating an emergency. He has about five million dollars in cash in their safe.”
“Did the bank tell you this?”
“No,” said Lauren. “I helped him stack it in there several years ago. It was left over from a covert project in Iraq and is in various currencies and denominations.”
Stefan Glamer’s face did not register any surprise. “Won’t he take it out by a banker’s draft or a certified check?”
“That is very doubtful,” she said. “We think he wants the money in his hands, so he will probably need help carrying it away. You should be prepared for several other men who would do the actual lifting.”
“Yes, of course.” The Supercop’s expression changed slightly. “It could be difficult if not handled properly.”
Kyle said, “Use overwhelming force, Commander. Jim Hall will fight to the death, and you will only get one chance to take him. Surprise must be total, and your men cannot hesitate to pull their triggers if necessary.”
Glamer wrote his private cell phone number on the back of a business card and put it on the table. Lauren wrote out a number for him. The TIGRIS commando rose and gave them a slight but rather Prussian bow. “We will stay in close touch, then, and if you do not hear from me, I shall meet you at this place tomorrow at noon. You have my permission to launch the mission. But, Gunny Swanson, you will not be permitted to carry a firearm. Understood?”
Kyle nodded. He waited until Glamer left the restaurant, then waved to the waitress and ordered another pot of coffee.
“Never fired a shot in any of their operations?” said Lauren. “Not good.”
“Maybe they are that good,” Kyle said. “Better be.” He dialed his cell phone and was connected over a secure link with Lieutenant Commander Benton Freedman in the Pentagon.
“We’re on deck in the land of the cuckoo clock, and I’m looking at the bank,” Kyle Swanson said.
“Can you bring me back a real Swiss Army knife?”
“No. Tell the general that his friends over here are ready.”
“Or a nice watch. A Swiss military watch.”
“Lizard, shut down those other two accounts right now. Hear me?”
“Can’t do it, Gunny,” Freedman said, a little piqued, knowing his answer would guarantee that he was not going to be getting any presents. “We waited too long. Agent Hall beat us to the punch on them and wired the money out with encrypted transactions that he apparently had set up some time ago. They slipped through the net. About eight million total. Sorry about that.”
ISTANBUL
TURKEY
JIM HALL WAS STAYING at the Four Seasons hotel in Istanbul, with a view of the Blue Mosque on the far side of the river. The assembly of
