The fist lost some of its power, and the right arm softened. Hall pulled away just enough to remove the knife from the neck and go to work on the stomach, slicing more veins and wrecking internal organs. Nicky’s cursing turned to grunts of pain, and finally to sighs of surrender and a gurgle of life puffing from him.
Jim Hall did not stop cutting until he was sure the huge mercenary, once a friend, was nothing more than a piece of dead meat.
45
BERN
SWITZERLAND
THE NOON SUNLIGHT REFLECTED mirror-bright off the snow-covered sharp peaks of the Bernese Alps that marched off into the distance outside the city. It was crisp but not too cold, and Kyle wore a lightweight bomber jacket, while Lauren was in a belted tan trench coat, with apples and carrots in her deep pockets and the collar turned up. She held his arm as they strolled beside the River Aare; gentle swells pushed the dark, swift-flowing waters to within inches of the wide walkway.
“I can’t believe that we are somewhere that you have never been before.” Lauren playfully pushed against him.
“The Swiss have been neutral for seven hundred years.” He pushed her back. “Not much call for my specialized services. Anyway, they have some pretty tough guys in their armed services to meet their needs. Do a lot more 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. Where are you, Jim? What are you thinking?
“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.”