There was a wave of steps to his plan. Each would have to be completed before the next could be initiated. First, he had something for the police, he said. His team had planted half a dozen small bombs throughout the city, and the detonators were attached to timing devices. As proof, he gave the location of the first one as being in the ancient clock tower in the middle of the old city. “Tell them that now, Kyle, and I will call you back in ten minutes. They need to know that I am serious.” He hung up.
Stefan Glamer and the two detectives went into action as soon as Kyle gave them the information. A terrorist attack against Switzerland, the most neutral country in the world, and being conducted by a former American spy, not a Muslim fanatic, was almost too much for them to comprehend. Glamer had a team at the clock tower within three minutes, and they found the brick of C-4 plastic explosive, attached to a timer detonator, exactly where Jim Hall had said it would be. Instantly, emergency calls were made to get every cop in the city out on the streets and searching for bombs.
“So they found it okay?” The opening words of the next call were menacingly humorous. “I would have hated to see that beautiful piece of art turned into a bunch of really old splinters, but, hey, that’s the game.”
“Let me speak to Lauren,” Swanson demanded, some power in his own voice.
“She’s not available right now, Kyle. The poor girl has had a rough time over the past few hours. You will see her soon.” Hall let the silence extend for a few seconds. “Now back to work. In four hours, at exactly nine o’clock this morning, a black SUV will pull up in front of the bank. Police will have a parking spot ready for it. The driver will remain at the wheel, and three other men will go inside the bank to meet a bank official with access to my safe deposit boxes. When the meeting takes place, my representative will tell the police the location of the second bomb, which is set to explode at nine thirty.”
“How many bombs are there, asshole?”
“Enough,” replied Hall. “My people will empty the boxes and take the cash in duffel bags to the SUV. By then, the cops will have found the second bomb, and I will give further instructions. There will be safe conduct all the way through the border at a point of my choosing.”
Kyle was jotting down the information on a white legal pad, with Glamer reading over his shoulder and making notes of his own. The commander wrote Keep him talking on the pad, and Swanson nodded. The police were tracing the call. “You aren’t going to be at the bank?”
“Shut up,” Hall barked. “We are out of time for this call. While that exchange is happening at the bank, you will be meeting me somewhere else, and I’ll swap Lauren for the cash and safe passage. Until I am out of danger, the bombs will only be disclosed one by one. Arrest anybody and I will turn this city to cinders. Remind them of what happened in Islamabad. Call you later with the address.” Hall laughed distantly and hung up and destroyed the cell phone. He had several spares.
Stunned silence engulfed the room. Commander Glamer leaned forward, hand on the table, and stared at each of them in turn. “He is leaving no room for negotiations. Just issuing orders for us to do this and do that and then the promise that something else will happen.”
Strangely, it was Mark Brand of the CIA who broke the silence this time. He knew a lot about making detailed plans that reached too far into the future, and was ruled by the old saying that the best plan never survives longer than the first gunshot. “Too much choreography on the part of Hall. It leaves too many chances for things to go wrong for him, as well as for us.”
“But we have no choice but to lock the bank down and erect concentric circles of protection while we continue the bomb searches. Getting across the border will be impossible, for even if we agree, none of the surrounding countries would. He has no leverage with them. It makes no sense.” Glamer slapped the tabletop. “I will make the arrangements, Gunny. You stay here and keep us informed of any new calls.”
The commander left the room, and the two Americans were alone. “What’s on your mind?” Kyle asked the CIA man. The guy was fully involved now, showing a background that he had kept well hidden in front of the police.
“I think it is a dodge. Hall has laid out a plan so complicated that it collapses beneath its own weight. How about if his car has a flat tire on its way to the bank? Or the bank manager panics and refuses to give up the cash? A dozen things like that could derail it all. Therefore, I believe that Jim Hall does not care if his plan succeeds, and that leads me to believe that probably there are no other bombs. He is looking for a way out.”
Swanson walked over to the coffeepot. In other places, the coffee would be old and tired after several hours. Here it always seemed freshly brewed, and someone had just put on a new pot. It held a scent of chocolate. He poured a cup and regarded Mark Brand again. Perhaps not such a pencil-pusher after all. It made sense. Hall shifted the eight million from those other two accounts, plus whatever else he had stashed away. Maybe he was ready to sacrifice the Swiss account. “He still has Lauren. I’ve got to go and get her.”
The analyst’s background in the CIA officer was perking right along with the fresh coffee. “That’s the other half of the distraction. The police will be tied up at the bank and are combing the city looking for nonexistent explosives. You will be busy rescuing Agent Carson. All of his enemies will be distracted long enough for him to get away.”
“Hiding, blending, and deceiving,” Kyle said. “Basic sniper tactics.”
“Yes. And the CIA still cannot be involved. Hall would still ruin a lot of networks if he thinks we are in the game.”
“He doesn’t want to do that. He knows you guys have no control over me, which is why he has not been leaning on you to stop me. And if he plans on living a long and happy life, he definitely does not want to ruin such a good insurance policy. You guys would be all over his ass in a blink to limit the damage.” Swanson looked at him steadily. “The Swiss won’t let me have a gun. Will you give me yours?”
“Absolutely not.” Then Brand brought a small box out of his briefcase and pushed it across the table. “However, you can do me a great favor. I was to give this material to Agent Carson at our dinner that never took place. Perhaps you could deliver it for me when you see her again.”
Swanson put down his ceramic coffee mug and opened the lid. Inside the box was the small leather wallet with Lauren’s badge and credentials, and resting on a cushion of white foam was her pistol, with a full clip of ammunition.
“Good luck, Gunny,” Mark Brand said and extended his hand.
Kyle shook it, and his lips curled into a smile. “Thanks. Things just got a lot better.”
48
LAUREN CARSON HOVERED JUST below consciousness, in a dull black drug haze that had begun when she was pulled into the van and held down while someone popped a needle into a vein. A few heartbeats later, the drug had circulated throughout her body and she was down and out. Now she was coming to the surface, being brought up slowly and expertly by the woman who had helped kidnap her. She was thirsty beyond belief, her mouth cottony and her body dehydrated. She sighed aloud when she saw light for the first time, but her eyes were still unfocused. She worked her jaw slightly and said, “Water…” A paper cup was lifted to her lips, and a hand held the back of her head to help her drink a few swallows. Then it was taken away. Jim Hall watched, then nodded to his woman helper, who had been chosen for the kidnap mission because of her training as a military nurse. Her portion of the job was almost done, and she would walk away with ten thousand euros. The nurse picked up a filled syringe off a clean towel, found a vein in Lauren’s arm, and put in the needle, slowly pushing in a drug to speed the recovery.