Jack Coughlin - An Act of Treason

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.”

“Yes, of course.” The Supercop’s expression changed slightly. “It could be difficult if not handled properly.”

Kyle said, “Use overwhelming force, Commander. Jim Hall will fight to the death, and you will only get one chance to take him. Surprise must be total, and your men cannot hesitate to pull their triggers if necessary.”

Glamer wrote his private cell phone number on the back of a business card and put it on the table. Lauren wrote out a number for him. The TIGRIS commando rose and gave them a slight but rather Prussian bow. “We will stay in close touch, then, and if you do not hear from me, I shall meet you at this place tomorrow at noon. You have my permission to launch the mission. But, Gunny Swanson, you will not be permitted to carry a firearm. Understood?”

Kyle nodded. He waited until Glamer left the restaurant, then waved to the waitress and ordered another pot of coffee.

“Never fired a shot in any of their operations?” said Lauren. “Not good.”

“Maybe they are that good,” Kyle said. “Better be.” He dialed his cell phone and was connected over a secure link with Lieutenant Commander Benton Freedman in the Pentagon.

“We’re on deck in the land of the cuckoo clock, and I’m looking at the bank,” Kyle Swanson said.

“Can you bring me back a real Swiss Army knife?”

“No. Tell the general that his friends over here are ready.”

“Or a nice watch. A Swiss military watch.”

“Lizard, shut down those other two accounts right now. Hear me?”

“Can’t do it, Gunny,” Freedman said, a little piqued, knowing his answer would guarantee that he was not going to be getting any presents. “We waited too long. Agent Hall beat us to the punch on them and wired the money out with encrypted transactions that he apparently had set up some time ago. They slipped through the net. About eight million total. Sorry about that.”

ISTANBUL

TURKEY

J IM H ALL WAS STAYINGat the Four Seasons hotel in Istanbul, with a view of the Blue Mosque on the far side of the river. The assembly of dignitaries would be held at the Anadolu Auditorium of the Istanbul Convention and Exhibition Center, a world-class facility that could handle the international affair with ease in the center of the bustling city. Security was a standard item in such a place that was frequented by world leaders, and police would be out in force, inside and on the streets.

Even presidents have to sleep and walk around in their underwear sometime, and the chief executive would be staying overnight in one of the Palace Roof Suites of the Four Seasons on the European side of the Bosphorus Strait. The rest of the Pakistani delegation would share the other rooftop suites. Jim Hall was in a one-bedroom suite five stories below in the same hotel. Meetings of national leaders happened all the time, and in an elite hotel, they could be accommodated while regular paying guests would not be disturbed. It was almost too easy. Hall had already figured out three different ways to kill the man and successfully escape. Security off-site from the convention center was not much stronger than a team of rent-a-cops, and he also had an inside guy.

A million-dollar payday from the Taliban and head for the cabin, which was fully stocked and ready in the Bavarian Alps, where he would remain hidden until springtime, when he could shake off the snow and begin his new life. Jim Hall did not kid himself. He suddenly needed this money, badly, because Kyle Swanson, Lauren Carson, and that electronics geek at Trident had raped and pillaged his secret accounts. There was no sign that the CIA had helped, so he would still abide by the earlier deal to leave the Agency alone if they would leave him alone. Best deal he had ever made.

He had only three open accounts left-one in Havana under his French pseudonym, one in Sydney under a British identity, and his fail-safe stack of real money in a big vault in Bern. He had always believed in diversification, and if the authorities did not know of a bank account, then they could not hit it. Lauren knew some, but not all, of the locations. It was all a matter of timing now, careful planning, and he had laid it out carefully. Pull the trigger on the Paki dude, and only then transfer all of the remaining funds to Switzerland, to be put into cash into a separate vault that was already waiting for it. After the hit, he had reservations for Switzerland, where he would collect the cash and vanish.

The disturbing buzzing in his brain was Kyle Swanson, who would probably be figuring the same way and planning some way to turn it to his own advantage. That was why Jim Hall, at the same time he had hired the late Nicky Shaw, had also contacted a burly, bald German freelancer to organize some extra muscle and place a surveillance team in Bern. That was the best bet for Kyle to set an ambush.

Hall had taken dinner in his room, had a few drinks, and was watching the plasma TV screen as darkness came over the city that separates Europe from Asia. It was the German.

“We found them,” said the German. “Our watchers spotted them at the clock tower in the middle of town and took some pictures. I enhanced the images, and they match the photos you sent.”

Hall smiled to himself and made a vigorous yes pumping action with his right arm. “Both of them?”

“Yah. They met some civilian for coffee right across from the bank.”

“You have somebody on them now?”

“Yah.” The deep voice had a sinister rumble.

“Kill him. Take the girl. I have one more item of business to take care of tomorrow, but barring any unforeseen problems on this end, I will be there on schedule.” With Kyle dead and Lauren captured, the CIA still on the sidelines, what could go wrong? Checkmate, Swanson, ole buddy.

“Yah.”

ISLAMABAD

S ELIM W ALEED WAS SEATEDon a silk-covered cushion, with his legs crossed, modestly basking in being so publicly displayed at his father’s right hand. The entire leadership of the Bright Path Party was gathered in a spacious room to officially launch the Taliban’s candidate for the presidency of Pakistan, and everyone was aware that it was the son who had engineered bringing his father to power.