Her eyes moved toward the bedroom and that told Scot everything he needed to know. Inside, he found two that looked as though they would do the job. While there, he went through the dead man’s pockets, but didn’t find much. The man did have a radio, which now sported a nice hole from one of Claudia’s shots. It had passed through the radio and into the man’s chest. The radio told Scot what he already knew-the man wasn’t working alone.
Scot picked up the nine-millimeter Russian Makarov pistol and checked the magazine. There was one round left in the clip and one up the pipe. The assassin wasn’t carrying any extra ammo and the nine-millimeter round used in the Makarov was an intermediate, falling somewhere between the nine-millimeter Parabellum and the nine-millimeter Short. None of Claudia’s ammunition would work in this weapon, but at least two silenced shots were better than none. Scot dropped it into one of the backpacks.
Harvath returned to the living room and saw that Claudia was still shaking.
“Do you have any brandy?” he asked.
She nodded her head yes, and he went into the kitchen in search of it. He returned a moment later with a small bottle and a coffee cup. Scot poured some into the cup and handed it to her. “This will help steady your nerves a little bit. I’m almost done packing things up, and then we need to go. The police will be here soon.”
Claudia nodded.
On the floor in the entry hall, Scot had everything laid out. He quickly fieldstripped Claudia’s civil defense force assault rifle. The difference between Claudia and most of the rest of the standing Swiss citizen army was that she was authorized to have ammunition for the weapon. Scot loaded the triple magazine into the pack and followed it with a box of nine-millimeter rounds for their pistols, as well as two extra clips for Claudia’s SIG.
Carefully, Scot wrapped the Swiss SG551 SWAT assault rifle’s telescopic night-vision scope in a towel and placed it at the top of the pack.
He helped Claudia to the door, where he got her into a warm coat and then slung the two packs over his shoulders.
When they reached the alley, he was very careful to check things out before exiting. The man upstairs would have partners, any or all of whom could be lying in wait for them.
The distant wail of police sirens grew louder, and Scot had no choice but to pick up his pace. With his left arm around Claudia’s waist and his right hand holding his Beretta, Scot made it through the alley without incident. On the street, he tucked the Beretta away beneath his sweater and began the two-block walk to where Claudia had parked her car.
Scot forced himself to walk at a casual pace, so as not to draw any undue attention. Claudia’s VW was now only a half a block away. The ruse had almost worked.
Leaving the Federal Attorney’s Office, where he had been waiting for Claudia Mueller to return to work, the leader and last remaining member of the American hit team was now speeding toward Claudia’s. The final transmission he’d had was that someone was entering her apartment. There had been no further transmissions since then, and his man in the apartment had not responded to his repeated hailings. Something was wrong.
When he saw Claudia Mueller and Agent Harvath trying to appear casual while walking down the street two blocks from her apartment, he knew what had happened.
Instinctively, the man reached under the newspaper on the passenger seat for his weapon. He slowed his car to a crawl, as if looking for a parking space, to make sure he hadn’t been noticed by Harvath and the girl. So far, so good. It would only be a matter of moments and he could complete his assignment, collect the rest of his money, and get Senator Snyder off his back.
If Harvath was on to him, he gave no indication of it. The couple maintained their forced leisurely pace. It was only a matter of meters now. The black Opal rolled forward and he was so close that if he’d known German, he would have been able to decipher the writing on the two backpacks Harvath had slung over his shoulder.
It would all be over in less than a minute. The assassin removed the gun from beneath the newspaper and cradled it in his lap.
Despite his request to the contrary, the car rental agency had given him a vehicle with manually operated windows, not power. Harvath and the girl were on his right side, which meant he would need to lower that window. He didn’t want to risk the potential problems that could come from shooting through the glass. He let go of the weapon and leaned over to roll the passenger side window down. He grunted from the pain in his bandaged ribs and wondered how long it would take for him to fully recover from the shots he had taken in DC.
His eyes were off them for only a second, but when he straightened back up, two Bern police cars were careening down the street toward him at full speed, with lights and sirens blaring. Harvath and the girl had disappeared. There was no sign of them. A side street loomed only feet away. Did they go this way? Maybe they’re behind a parked car? The gun in his lap, the assassin had no choice but to make the quick right turn and get out of the way of the oncoming police cars.
Scot threw the backpacks on the backseat of the VW, slid the driver’s seat back, started the car, and eased out of the parking space.
Claudia told Scot where and when to turn. They were taking the fastest route out of Bern. Harvath checked his mirrors occasionally, but as he didn’t know the city that well and didn’t want to get caught in any possible police dragnets, he forwent his usual evasive driving procedures. He was confident there hadn’t been anyone else at the building from the assassin’s team. If there had been, the man would have come to investigate the shots. Whoever was in contact with the assassin via radio was most likely watching Claudia’s office and was therefore nowhere nearby. He was sure they were not being followed.
74
Scot chose to drive around Lucerne rather than through it to get to Mount Pilatus. By now, all of the city’s policemen would be carrying descriptions of him and Claudia, courtesy of the shopkeepers on the Kapellbrucke. The way they were going took more time, but it gave Claudia a chance to get some sleep. She had finally nodded off a while ago, and Scot had no desire to wake her. He needed her to be as fresh as possible for what lay ahead.
It was pitch black outside. Headlights blurred from one set into the next, indistinguishable as they zoomed past in the opposite direction. The VW’s dash lights glowed an eerie green. Scot was tempted to turn on the radio, but decided against it. The heater was turned up high, and he glanced over at Claudia, who was wrapped in the same wool blanket he had been in only this afternoon. It was funny how quickly roles could change. It also made Scot aware again of how painfully alone he was in life. Claudia stirred, and he was happy to find that she was awake.
“Hey there,” he said. “How are you feeling?”
“Pissed off.”
Scot laughed. “That’s good. Now I know I don’t have to worry about you.”
“How did you know I was in trouble at my apartment?”
“I made my call and used the fax at Fabia’s, then waited around for you for about an hour. When you didn’t show, I started to get a bad feeling.”
“That man. He wasn’t one of Miner’s men.”
“No?”
“No, he was an American.”
Scot had guessed as much when he’d retrieved the shattered Motorola radio from the man’s pocket.
“You should have told him where I was,” he said.
“What, and let him kill you? Besides, he was going to kill me anyway. That I’m sure of. Why would I want to make things any easier on him?”
“You’re right. Here,” said Scot, pulling the Toblerone chocolate from his pocket, “one of Fabia’s staff gave this to me. I thought you might like it.”
“Thanks,” she said as she unwrapped the chocolate and began to eat.
A light snow had started falling outside, and Scot turned on the windshield wipers.
