Authors: David Hagberg

Soldier of God (40 page)

BOOK: Soldier of God

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There was no traffic on the lake road, the sun low behind the mountains to the west, and Liese drove recklessly, on her way into a situation that would not only get her fired, but could also send her to jail or even to her grave. Her eyes were full and her heart ached, but she felt no fear.

This was for Kirk, even though she finally knew that she would never have him.

Prince Salman’s call to the compound had come up on one of the monitors, and Ziegler had recorded it along with Sergeant Hoenecker’s simultaneous translation just as Liese was getting set to head out. She had no idea what it meant that Salman was suddenly leaving Washington. It made no sense if he’d gone there in the first place to confront McGarvey, and if he had kidnapped Kirk’s wife.

But the prince was returning to Switzerland, and before Liese had left the chalet, Hoenecker was on the phone to Gertner, the one man that Liese did not want to speak to.

Her telephone buzzed against her hip. It was Gertner already trying to reach her. She had told no one she was leaving, or where she was going. She had just slipped out of the chalet and driven off.

She let the call roll over to the answering machine in her apartment. They wouldn’t have long to wait before they found out where she had gone, and then the clock would start. It was possible she would not be able to get in, and it was equally possible that seeing what she was up to, Gertner might order a raid on the compound. Not to rescue her, but to arrest her.

Liese wanted to pull over to the side of the road and close her eyes and her mind to the world around her. But that had become impossible on the very first day she had laid eyes on Kirk, and had instantly fallen head over heels in love. Marta had called it a schoolgirl crush, an infatuation, but now more than ten years later she still felt the same. She was miserable.

Taking her pistol out of her purse, she stuck it in the waistband of her jeans and pulled her jacket down so that it was hidden. Any time a weapon was introduced into a situation, there was a danger that someone would get hurt. But she was a professional, and so were the security people at the prince’s compound, which reduced the odds of an accident. The last thing she wanted was to hurt the prince’s wife or his children. He might be a terrorist, but they were innocent.

Do it now,
she thought
, before Gertner sends someone.

A cool breeze came down from the mountain passes, and the sailing fleet was back on the lake, the spinnakers ballooned out as they raced toward the downwind mark. She caught glimpses of them through the trees as she drove around the bay and then headed back up the private
road to the Salman compound at the end of the narrow peninsula jutting out into the lake.

Peaceful
. It was the only word Liese could think of. And it stuck in her mind how far away this place was from America, which was facing another 9/11. The Swiss had always been the neutrals. But not this time, she thought.

And for that there would be a scapegoat.

Prince Salman’s compound consisted of the main sprawling chalet with two separate living wings one for the prince and the other for his wife and children. There were several outbuildings, including two garages, living quarters for the security and house staff, a maintenance shed, a boathouse, and a long dock at the foot of the shallow hill.

Most of the year it was only the wife and the staff who were in residence. The children were normally away at boarding school, and the prince himself came home only a few times each year, usually to stay no longer than a week or two.

Except during the major terrorist strikes. Each time he withdrew his children from school and hunkered down with his family for a month or more. They would play on the lake aboard one of several powerboats and sailboats, or go into town to the theater or to dinner. Sometimes they even left the compound to take trips up into the mountain resort towns, just like ordinary tourists.

Not a terrorist and his family Not a monster who the world feared and loathed. Not bin Laden’s number-one lieutenant and killer.

A couple of hundred meters down from the house, which was hidden from view by the trees, the road was blocked by a security gate with a closed-circuit television camera and intercom system. Liese pulled up, took her police wallet with badge and ID card out of her purse, lowered her window, and pushed the intercom button. She held up the open wallet to the camera.

Almost immediately a man’s voice, speaking heavily accented French, came from the grille. “Good afternoon, Officer Fuelm. What is the business of the Swiss police here?”

“I have a message for Mrs. Salman,” Liese said. She could imagine the confusion now among her colleagues across the bay. Hoenecker would be on the phone to Gertner.

“Give me the message. I will make sure that madam receives it.”

“I don’t know who you are, though I’m assuming that you’re one of her security people. But this message is for her alone, and I have been instructed to give it only to her.” The only chance she had of pulling this off in the time Kirk wanted was to get through the gate and up to the house. If this failed, her only other option would be to come back tonight after dark and either breach the perimeter fence, or approach the compound from the water. Kirk would understand.

“That’s quite impossible, Sergeant. The Madam is not at home—”

“She’s not only at home, but her children were recalled from school and are there with her. In addition, her husband, the prince, will very soon be en route from Washington. I must speak with her right now.”

The security staff personnel were all Saudi private contractors, exmilitary or intelligence officers, who understood that their presence on Swiss soil with weapons was strictly illegal. The authorities turned a blind eye to this disregard for Swiss law because of Prince Salman’s political and financial importance, and only so long as there were no incidents. They also understood now, if they didn’t know before, that the comings and goings at the compound were being monitored.

In the past there had been no trouble, and the staff had very probably been ordered to be cooperative. Liese was counting on it. Just as she was counting on them not to make any show of force. Most of the staff would be out of sight.

The speaker grille was silent for several seconds.

“Very well,” the security officer said. “The princess will receive you.”

“I will need to see the children as well,” Liese said. “This is a matter concerning the school.”

There was another brief pause.

“Very well. Do not stop or deviate from the road,
s’il vous plaît.”

The electric gate swung inward, and Liese started up the driveway to the house, her gut tied in a knot. This situation had all the earmarks of a disaster in the making. But she had come this far and she would see it through. And considering what Kirk was facing in Washington and what the entire U.S. was staring down the barrel at, this move could work to avert another tremendous disaster.

As the road came out of the woods and the main house came into
view, Liese glanced across the bay. LeFevre would be at the spotter scope looking at her face. She tried to will him a message not to let Gertner do anything stupid. All she needed was a few minutes. Once she was in and had control of the situation, there was little any of them could do.

Kirk had promised that he would need only a few hours. It would be up to her to hold out that long, and make sure that no one got hurt.

She pulled up directly in front of the main house, in plain view not only of someone inside, but of LeFevre and the others. As she got out of the car and walked up, the chalet’s front door opened, and a very large man stood there, in black slacks and a dark short-sleeved pullover that was tight across his thick shoulders. If he was carrying, it was not obvious.

“The princess and the children will be down momentarily,” the security officer said. His thick accent was the same as that of the man she’d spoken to over the intercom. He wasn’t smiling. He held out his hand. “Your identification.”

She opened her ID wallet and held it up for him to see.

He took it, and carefully inspected the badge and then the photograph, comparing it to her face. He grunted. “I’ll keep this until you leave.”

This was the first test of who would be controlling the situation. Liese shook her head and held out her hand. “No,” she said, emphatically.

The security officer scowled. But he handed over the wallet, which she put back in her purse.

“Are you armed?”

Liese looked up, returning his scowl. “Most Swiss Federal Polizei do not carry firearms. They do not see the necessity. What is your name and position here?”

The security officer didn’t flinch. “My name is Sayyid Salah. I am the butler.”

Liese stifled a laugh. “Very well, Mr. Salah. The sooner I can speak with the princess and children, the sooner I’ll be gone.”

The security officer stepped aside to allow Liese to enter, and then he directed her through the short entry hall, with its heavily carved wooden coat rack and mirror, into the great room, just as Salman’s wife, the Princess Sofia, came down the stairs, followed by four children. The princess was a diminutive woman, with a tiny round face and very large,
very dark eyes. She was not dressed in traditional Muslim garb. Like her three girls and one boy she wore blue jeans, a tee shirt, and sneakers. The children ranged in age from seven to thirteen, and except for their dark coloration and Semitic noses they could have been typical Swiss kids. They smiled uncertainly.

Liese felt absolutely rotten for being here like this. She could understand Mac’s reasoning, and yet this was all wrong in her mind. She wasn’t going to harm them, but they would not know it. Once she pulled out her pistol they would be terrified.

“Bonjour, Mademoiselle,”
the princess said. Her voice was mellifluous, her French accent good. “I am Sofia Salman, and these are my children.”

Liese wanted to apologize, say there had been a mistake, and get the hell out of there. But beyond doing this for Kirk, she had a clear vision of the television images from 9/11 in New York and Washington and Pennsylvania. Especially the World Trade Center towers coming down. Of couples hand in hand leaping to their deaths from the buildings to escape the horrible flames.

Bin Laden had been the spiritual leader for that horrible day, but Khalil had been the major planner, the guiding force. The concept for the attacks had come from his warped brain. And so had whatever was going to happen in America next. More people would die, unless he was stopped. This time bin Laden promised to strike at children.

“Mademoiselle?”
the princess prompted.

They stood in tableau for a second, the princess and her children at the foot of the sweeping staircase that led to the upper floor, the security officer at the entry hall three meters behind Liese’s left shoulder.

“Je suis desolée, Madame,”
Liese said. She pulled out her pistol, as she turned left toward the security officer to present less of herself as a target.

The man reached for something at the small of his back.

“Do not go for your weapon,” Liese ordered, sharply. “I mean the princess and her children no harm, but I
will
shoot
you
!”

The security officer hesitated for just a second, then slowly brought both hands up and away from his body. There was a calculating look in his eyes. He was a pro. He would be patient and wait for her to make a mistake.

Liese glanced at the princess, who had gathered her girls, but the ten-year-old
boy stood defiantly in front of his mother and sisters, ready like a good Bedouin man to defend his womenfolk. Liese felt horrible.

The security officer had begun to lower his right hand.

“Goddamn you son of a bitch, I’ll blow your fucking head off if you don’t turn this instant and get out of here,” Liese shouted.

Another man, dressed in a Western business suit, appeared from the back of the house from the opposite side of the great room, and stopped. His hands were in plain sight, but Liese was now caught in the middle of the two men. From a defensive stance she was in a very bad position. She could not cover both of them.

She switched her aim to the princess. “Do nothing foolish and we’ll all walk away from this. I mean nobody any harm. I promise you.” She tried to make the princess and her children see that she was telling the truth, but it was not possible. A crazy woman was holding a gun on them.

“Lower your weapon, and you will be allowed to leave here,” the man from the far end of the room told her, reasonably. “No one will interfere with you.”

“I can’t do that,” Liese replied. “I want both of you out of here now.”

“What do you want here, Sergeant Fuelm?” the security officer in the suit asked. “Or should we telephone your superiors and let them talk to you?”

“I wouldn’t advise that,” Liese said. “I’m only going to need a few hours.”

“Why shouldn’t we inform your superiors?”

BOOK: Soldier of God

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