Authors: David Hagberg
Soldier of God (21 page)
She had caught McGarvey flat-footed, though he should have suspected that something like this would happen. Shaw
had
warned him that the nation needed a hero. But he didn’t have to like it. “I’d like to have a word with the president first.”
had
warned him that the nation needed a hero. But he didn’t have to like it. “I’d like to have a word with the president first.”
Rugowski shook her head. “He thought you might say that. But he’s not going to give you the chance to try to talk your way out of it.” She gave him a faint smile. “When’s the last time the media considered a CIA director to be a great guy? Just go with the flow, Mr. McGarvey, and it’ll be over in a few minutes.”
“It’s not a good idea.”
“It’s the president’s idea, and he would like your cooperation,” Rugowski said. “What you did up there—saving lives, stopping the kidnapping—was nothing short of magnificent. He wants to thank you publicly.”
Liese Fuelm watched out the chalet’s window a few minutes past one in the afternoon as the black Mercedes sped up the driveway. She was trying desperately to get control of her emotions.
The last twenty-four hours had passed in a blur. Kirk had actually been aboard the Alaskan cruise liner when the terrorist Khalil had tried to kidnap the former American secretary of defense. He was being hailed as a hero, his face plastered on every newspaper and television screen in the world. And then came the fantastic warning by bin Laden, a man whom Kirk had come face-to-face with a couple of years before 9/11.
There were too many coincidences, too many improbabilities, one piling atop the other, coming faster and faster, centering on Kirk McGarvey, a man suspect in the eyes of the Swiss Federal Police, to be ignored any longer.
Captain Gertner had been on the verge of firing Liese after she had failed to record her telephone conversation with Otto Rencke at the CIA, and in fact she had expected to be drummed out of the service and blocked from ever working in Swiss law enforcement ever again. But then the kidnapping occurred and right on its heels the bin Laden tape.
“Everything has changed,” Gertner said on the telephone a few hours ago. “You can see that, finally, can’t you,
Liebchen
?”
Liebchen
?”
She was off-balance, and she felt stupid. “He was a hero.”
“Surely you can appreciate the absurdity of what you are trying to maintain.” Gertner was practically shouting. His legendary temper could be incendiary. “One man against what apparently was a well-organized force? And why wasn’t the terrorist Khalil unmasked as Prince Salman? Why is it your McGarvey maintains his silence?”
Liese felt battered. What Gertner was suggesting simply could not be true. Kirk McGarvey was not a traitor. “I don’t know,” she said weakly.
“For heaven’s sake, why hasn’t he returned your call?” Gertner shouted. She imagined his spittle flying all over the place. “For heaven’s
sake, you two were practically lovers. Even now, if you put your heart into it, I can imagine you seducing the man.”
sake, you two were practically lovers. Even now, if you put your heart into it, I can imagine you seducing the man.”
She could imagine such a thing. In fact, that’s all she had been imagining for the past forty-eight hours.
“We would be doing the world a favor,” Gertner said, suddenly calm, even friendly. “Think about it, Liebchen, with your head and not your heart. McGarvey single-handedly stops a terrorist attack on the Golden Gate Bridge that would have killed his president, and yet he fails to notice terrorists being trained to hijack four airliners and crash them into buildings. Under his direction the CIA has failed to find bin Laden, and yet he just happens to be in the right place at the right time to stop a spectacular kidnapping attempt?”
Liese could not raise her voice above a whisper. “If he’s a traitor, who does he work for? What is his purpose?”
“Why, that’s simple. Kirk McGarvey has not changed one whit since his days here in bed with poor Marta. Now, as then, he works for himself. Now, as then, he was a bitter man who was turned out of his own country for merely doing what he thought was his job. Now, as then, his agenda is his alone, and it is revenge.”
“No—”
“Listen to me, Liese. Your Herr McGarvey is an assassin who has never bothered with a license for his killing sprees. He is possibly the most dangerous man in America.”
Liese closed her eyes and laid her head against the wall. “It’s silly—”
“Not silly,
Liebchen
. And you and I will expose him for what he really is, once and for all, because we finally have the means at hand. Prince Salman is his tool, and you, my dear, will once again become his weakness.”
Liebchen
. And you and I will expose him for what he really is, once and for all, because we finally have the means at hand. Prince Salman is his tool, and you, my dear, will once again become his weakness.”
Liese watched as the Mercedes pulled up next to her car. Two men got out and came around to the side entrance. One of them was Gertner, and the other much larger man she thought she might have seen at the Nidwalden headquarters the previous week, but she didn’t know who he was. She didn’t know what to do, except that she couldn’t leave the investigation to men such as Gertner who were not looking for the truth, but simply looking for facts that would fit their own personal theories.
Nor was Gertner doing this for simple justice. She was convinced that
there was more than simple justice to his desire to expose Kirk McGarvey as a traitor. The Swiss never did favors for anyone, especially not the U.S.
there was more than simple justice to his desire to expose Kirk McGarvey as a traitor. The Swiss never did favors for anyone, especially not the U.S.
Gertner’s was one of the faces Liese remembered from Marta’s funeral.There’d been two dozen Federal Polizei in attendance, but Gertner stood out in her memory because he was the only man there with tears streaming down his cheeks.
“Look sharp, gentlemen,” she told Tomas Ziegler and Claude LeFevre, who were pulling duty with her again this afternoon. “Himself has arrived with reinforcements. Heads could roll.” One part of her wished it were so. She wanted out.
“We’re with you, Sergeant,” Ziegler said, looking up from the spotting scope. He gave her the thumbs-up. “Besides, as long as they think you have the inside track at the CIA, they won’t get rid of you.”
LeFevre opened the door for Gertner and the other man, who brushed past him and stormed into the chalet’s great room.
“Has he arrived yet?” Gertner shouted.
LeFevre was right behind him. “Has who arrived, Captain? Unless you mean the children, in which case they’re over there.”
Gertner gave him a withering look and, without glancing in Liese’s direction, went across to the scope and motioned Ziegler aside. “The prince landed in Bern over an hour ago.” He bent down and peered through the powerful scope that was trained on the big house across the lagoon. The afternoon was cloudy. One or two dim lights were on inside, and several security lights illuminated the front gate and the area of the dock and boathouse. But there didn’t seem to be anyone out or about.
For a moment Liese entertained the idea of demanding why the hell Gertner had put her in charge up here if he was going to barge in and take over when the supposed subject of their surveillance operation was apparently on the verge of showing up. But such an outburst wouldn’t accomplish much. McGarvey didn’t need her to defend him from the ravings of a lunatic Swiss cop. She was just thinking through her heart instead of her head.
“The last arrival was a delivery van from a dry-cleaning service at eight this morning,” Liese said. “Perhaps the prince has business in the city?”
Gertner looked up. “No, he’s on his way here. But I wasn’t informed until forty minutes ago.” He motioned for the other man to sit down at
the sound and electronic surveillance equipment. “I brought Sergeant Hoenecker, who is an Arab speaker, with me since Corporal Miller is not available.”
the sound and electronic surveillance equipment. “I brought Sergeant Hoenecker, who is an Arab speaker, with me since Corporal Miller is not available.”
Willi Miller was the only person on Liese’s team who understood Arabic. She’d been out sick since the previous morning, and Liese’s call to Gertner asking for an immediate replacement had gone unanswered until now.
Liese put a lid on her anger. “It was good of you to personally drive my replacement translator out here, Captain.”
“There is a car approaching the compound’s gate,” LeFevre announced. He was watching across the lagoon through a pair of binoculars.
An expression that looked like fear to Liese briefly crossed Gertner’s face. He glanced at her for just a moment, but it was long enough to know that he
was
frightened. All at once she realized what was happening. Gertner had been in love with Marta Fredericks, and it must have torn his heart out when she’d fallen in love with Kirk McGarvey. After McGarvey left Switzerland, and Marta was killed following him to Paris in an effort to win him back, Gertner’s heartbreak had transformed itself into hate, hate for the American assassin who had stolen the woman he loved. But it wasn’t until now, with his fantastic theory, that he saw a way of getting revenge.
was
frightened. All at once she realized what was happening. Gertner had been in love with Marta Fredericks, and it must have torn his heart out when she’d fallen in love with Kirk McGarvey. After McGarvey left Switzerland, and Marta was killed following him to Paris in an effort to win him back, Gertner’s heartbreak had transformed itself into hate, hate for the American assassin who had stolen the woman he loved. But it wasn’t until now, with his fantastic theory, that he saw a way of getting revenge.
But the stakes were very high. Gertner’s career rested on at least casting a shadow of doubt on McGarvey. That much would be enough because very few people in Bern had any love lost for the director of the CIA, who, in the government’s estimation, had never been a friend of Switzerland.
Since Liese had been and was still in love with Kirk McGarvey, she was a part of Gertner’s plot whether she wanted to be or not. He would not fire her, nor would she be allowed to quit.
Lights started to come on throughout the prince’s compound and inside the house. Even to the naked eye it was clear that something was going on over there. The car passed through the gate and headed up the long driveway, its headlights flashing through the gloomy trees, until it disappeared around the front of the house.
“Put the entry hall on the loudspeaker,” Gertner ordered.
Ziegler reached past Sergeant Hoenecker, typed a brief command on
the electronic surveillance computer keyboard, and suddenly they were hearing what was going on inside the prince’s house.
the electronic surveillance computer keyboard, and suddenly they were hearing what was going on inside the prince’s house.
Every piece of electrical and electronic equipment inside the Salman compound—everything from the electrical wiring itself, the lamps and other fixtures, the microwave, the telephones, the television, and of course the computers—had been compromised in one fashion or another over the past few years since the prince and his family had taken up residence.
The entire compound was targeted by ultraviolet and infrared laser beams, which could pick up minute vibrations of the windows, walls, and even the roof tiles caused by any noise inside. If someone walked across a room, the sounds would be detected, washed through a sophisticated series of computer-directed filters, and identified for whose footfalls were being heard. If someone spoke, the exceedingly faint mechanical vibrations that the sound waves made on windows or doors were picked up, amplified, filtered, and sent over to the surveillance equipment.
Liese had always known that her countrymen were paranoid. She was that way herself, to an extent. But she’d not realized just what a national mania it was until she’d become a cop. Nobody really trusted anyone.
The sounds of someone walking across the tile floor in the entry hall came over the speakers. “Two men, heavy,” Ziegler said. “House-security. There’re six of them over there.”
Hoenecker held up a hand for silence as the front door was opened. A man spoke in Arabic, and Hoenecker translated.
“Welcome home,
ya Hagg
.”
ya Hagg
.”
Ziegler cocked his head. “That’s one of the guards.”
There was something that sounded like a confused shuffling in the hall, but then a different man said something. He sounded tired, and perhaps angry
“Everything is in order here?” Hoenecker translated.
“There have been no disturbances. The children arrived yesterday afternoon. Shall we summon madam?”
“No, do not disturb her yet,” Prince Salman said. “My bags are in the car. Bring them to my quarters, please; then put the car away and make double sure that our perimeter is secure. I have some work to attend to.”
“Pardon me, sir, but may we know how long you plan to be in residence?” one of the guards asked, politely.
The prince had apparently started up the stairs because his voice was distorted, echoing off the ceiling and perhaps the walls in the corridor above. “Three days.”
“Shall we make plans to move the family home?”
“Not this time—” Salman’s voice trailed off. He said something else, and Hoenecker shook his head. “I didn’t catch it.”
Ziegler backed up the digital recording, adjusted the filters, and replayed the snippet of voice.
“Not this time,” Hoenecker said. “I won’t be as long.”
Liese was suddenly galvanized with fear. “Follow him,” she told Ziegler. “No, stay with the guards,” Gertner countermanded her order. “They might say something that we can use.”
“Don’t lose him, Tomas,” Liese said urgently. “Stay on him.”
“You forget who is in charge here, Sergeant,” Gertner shouted.
Liese wanted to throttle the bastard. She turned on him. “Don’t be as stupid as you usually are. If the prince is Khalil, it means that he’s just flown halfway around the world after botching a mission in which half his men were killed. He’ll be angry, disappointed, and tired. If he’s going to make a mistake, it’ll be right now, when he thinks that he’s safe in his own home in the middle of what he and the rest of the world believe is a neutral nation. Didn’t you hear him? He said he has some work to attend to. I think he’s going to phone someone.”
She turned back to Ziegler, who pulled up a chair next to the translator and shifted the computer’s search-and-recognize program to the upper corridor, and then more specifically the prince’s private apartment on the southeast end of the house. His wife and children occupied a separate suite of rooms in another wing.
“We might miss something important,” Gertner said. He completely ignored the gross insult.
“Everything that goes on over there is recorded,” Liese told him. “We can come back to the guards later.”
The computer was picking up the very faint sounds of Arabic music playing somewhere in the house, over the noise of Salman’s muffled footfalls on the carpeted floor in the upper corridor. The prince would also be
hearing the music, and Liese briefly wondered if he preferred that kind of music over Western tunes. He was an international playboy. Or at least that’s the role he played. He went to operas and concerts.
hearing the music, and Liese briefly wondered if he preferred that kind of music over Western tunes. He was an international playboy. Or at least that’s the role he played. He went to operas and concerts.
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