immediately if I even thought I had seen you, and not to try and intercept you.”
“But you had seen me. Why didn’t you say something?”
“I didn’t say anything because if the U.S. State Department wanted you that bad and you were somehow associated with the case I was investigating, then I wanted you as well. I have been waiting for a break in this case. I’m certainly not going to sit back and turn it over to the Americans. No offense.”
“None taken, but I think you did turn it over.”
“What do you mean?”
“Was the German added to your watch list at the same time?”
“It was listed in the same update, which meant they had both been added in the same time period, yes.”
“Do you remember the name of the German?”
“I think it was something like Brunner, but I don’t remember exactly. At the time it wasn’t important. I’m normally pretty good with names, but I was so focused on you and what your involvement was and is-”
“Could it have been Brauner?”
“It could have been. Yes, it was. Hans. Hans Brauner. I knew I would remember it.”
Harvath put his head in his hands and massaged his temples. “Can you be absolutely certain you were not followed here today?”
“Followed, why?”
“Just answer me, please,” said Scot.
“After I finally evaded the two men from the Jungfraujoch, I was extremely cautious, even paranoid. I am positive no one followed me here. Why?”
“I think I finally know how the shooters in Wengen picked up my trail.”
“Picked up your trail? Who are they?”
“They’re an American hit team that tried twice to kill me in Washington several days ago.”
“How did they track you here? Have you been using your real name to travel?”
“What am I, new? Please, Ms. Mueller, I don’t know how the Swiss do things, but trust me, we Americans are a lot more thorough than that.”
“So are we Swiss, Agent Harvath, but the only way someone who doesn’t want to be found gets found is if they make some sort of mistake.”
“Or if someone tips off the people looking for you, which is what I’m afraid you did quite unknowingly.”
“Me?”
“Yes, when you sent that E-mail asking for my picture, it started a whole chain of events. When I left the U.S., I was traveling as Hans Brauner, so the people who were after me had enough pull to get both my real name and my false one put on your watch list in case I turned up. Just asking for the picture was enough to make someone suspect that you knew more than you were telling. My guess is that as soon as they had figured out I was Brauner and had come to Switzerland, they sent a hit team over here. They got both the names on the watch list, and then it was just a waiting game.
“When you sent your E-mail, it got people thinking, and they decided to tail you. Either they didn’t see me follow you from the post office, or they hadn’t begun to tail you until you went to the Jungfraujoch the next day.”
“But what about your letter? After I resealed it, I put it back in the post office box. Maybe I am not being followed at all. Maybe your letter drew the shooters. That was your intent, wasn’t it? Someone was supposed to read that letter and be sufficiently interested to show up, right? Why were you setting up a meeting at the Ice Palace in the first place, and what do you know about ‘Aunt Jane’?”
“At this point, not enough. I do know, though, that our paths have crossed for a reason, and I intend to figure out why. We need to talk more-you and me-but not here.”
“Then where?”
“Someplace else. Anywhere else. Having you here has made me realize how much danger I’ve already put Jackie in. She’s too much of a good friend. We need to find someplace safe where we can sort this all out.”
“I think I have just the place.”
62
“Just the place” turned out to be the nearby elegant yet vacant summer residence of Claudia’s boss, Urs Schnell, which they unceremoniously gained entrance to when Claudia kicked in one of the small windows in back.
“Okay,” said Scot, taking a pen and pad from the ornate desk in the far corner of the living room and walking back to Claudia at the fireplace, “let’s get started. Why don’t we begin with your investigation. What’s it all about, who were you following, et cetera…”
“That would be fine, except that is classified information and I am bound by my oath to-”
“What? Are you saying you don’t trust me?”
“I hardly know you-”
“Hold it. A little over twenty-four hours ago you had a gun jammed into my spine; yet here I am alone and defenseless with you.”
Claudia gave him a look that said, You, defenseless?
“Okay, I’m not defenseless, but I am here and you did have a gun on me yesterday. I mean, why else would I come to a deserted love nest with you and lock myself inside for the evening?”
Again Claudia shot him a look.
“Okay, you’re not that bad looking, but I am not going to let that get in the way of some other mildly important things-like saving my life and the president’s.”
“You’re right. I’m sorry,” said Claudia, becoming more businesslike. “We need to work together. Our two cases seem to merge based upon who sends and receives letters via the post box in Interlaken.”
As Claudia shared the details of her case with Scot, he took copious notes that would be tossed into the fire once they both had looked them over and digested the information.
Hours passed, and they ate from the bags of food they had purchased on the way to the house. When the bottle of mineral water was finished, they moved to a bottle of wine. It was a nice white, a Cotes de Russin from just outside Geneva. Claudia bent her own rule about drinking while she was working.
Scot liked the wine and laughed when Claudia explained that the reason he couldn’t find any Swiss wines back home was that Switzerland didn’t export wines, it imported drinkers. That reminded him of something, but he couldn’t remember what. His mind was still not firing on every cylinder. He let it go, figuring if it was important, it would come back. He drank his wine slowly and looked down at the pages of notes spread out on the floor before them.
“So, let’s go over what we know. Senator Snyder, according to the documents I received from Andre Martin, wrote a letter to someone he called Aunt Jane, signed it with the name Edwin, and mailed it to the post office box in Interlaken. The box is owned or at least used by this man Gerhard Miner, whom you have been trying to link to your investigation of the weapons theft from a depot outside of Basel. How am I doing?”
“So far so good,” she said.
“Because of Miner’s involvement with this group, Der…”
“Nebel. It means ‘fog’ in German.”
“Right, fog. So Miner, many years ago, after cross-training with U.S. Special Operations Forces, returns to Switzerland and establishes this unit which is designed to test the security of Swiss military installations. He’s so successful with breaching security at the bases that he quickly earns a lot of enemies and his unit is shut down for fear of embarrassing the military establishment and he is moved higher in your intelligence sector.”
“Yes.”
Scot paused, tapping the pen against his chin. “I can see why you suspected him. He certainly has the credentials. What about the weapons? What can you tell me about those?”
“It depends. Which weapons in particular do you want to know about?”
He looked at the notes he’d taken. “A lot of what you’ve described is standard military hardware. Because the
