Brad Thor - The Lions Of Lucerne

“Yeah, but I’m here now, and we can help him, protect him.”

“Who’s ‘we’? The Secret Service? From what I hear around the White House, you guys have so many leaks Vice President Marshfield is even talking about suspending Secret Service protection and using FBI bodyguards.”

Scot’s blood pressure began to rise. “First of all, Vice President Marshfield doesn’t know his ass from a hole in the ground. The Secret Service is charged with his protection as well as the safety and security of the White House and all those within it. We’re there to stay. You won’t be seeing any FBI protective details; that I can assure you. As far as any leaks are concerned, we’ve yet to nail that down, but there isn’t any reason the Service can’t put André into protective custody until we get to the bottom of this. It’s just going to take a little time.”

“Time? But I thought you said I was in danger?” said André.

“I believe you are, but it’s going to take me a couple of hours to set everything up and bring you in. While I do that, we need to get you someplace safe.”

“He can come back to my apartment,” said Natalie.

“Nat, I told you this could be dangerous, and I don’t want you involved. You did the right thing, and now I want you to walk away.”

“And I told you, Scot, that I am staying right here with André. He’s been extremely kind to my brother over the years, and I’m not going to repay that kindness by ditching him in his hour of need.”

Scot knew when he was licked. “Okay, have it your way, but I don’t want you going home.”

“Why not?”

“Because if Snyder’s out looking for André and he knows the connection between you two, he might go to your apartment. How much cash do you have?”

“About a hundred bucks, I think. I hit the cash machine after work.”

Harvath reached into his pocket and peeled off two hundred-dollar bills, “Now you’ve got three hundred dollars. I want you to get in a cab and head for Alexandria. Go to the Radisson Old Town on Fairfax and pay cash for a room for one night. Tell them you’re Triple A members, but your purse and wallet were stolen and you have no ID on you, that should knock the rate in half and stop them from asking any questions. Register under the name Cashman. Once you get inside, don’t call anyone. I’ll call you. You got it?”

“I still think going to my place is okay.”

“Nat, you asked me for a favor, and now I’m asking you for one. Go there and stay put.”

“Okay, we’ll do it, but make sure you hurry up.”

“I’ll get to you as soon as I can. Again, I don’t think you are in any immediate danger; we just need to be sure.”

Harvath extended his hand toward André. “We’ll get to the bottom of this, don’t worry.”

“I hope so,” said André, who stood and shook his hand. Natalie was putting on her coat. “You know, Scot, you asked me if there was anything else that seemed odd about the senator’s behavior recently.”

“Yes?”

“There was one other thing I forgot to mention, but it might not mean anything.”

“What is it?”

“Well, it was just another inconsistency in one of Snyder’s stories, but a pretty major one, I thought.”

Scot raised his eyebrows as if to say, Keep going.

“About a month ago the senator took off on an unplanned trip. We had plans and he canceled on me. He brought me back a bottle of dessert wine. He said it was a favorite of Napoleon or Josephine or something, but it didn’t make sense. The whole thing bothered me for a couple of reasons.”

“Why?”

“Well, he said he was called away on a World Bank economic development conference.”

“So?”

“Well, I specialize in international finance, and it wasn’t difficult to find out that there were no World Bank functions at that time.”

“Maybe he told you the wrong thing or you misunderstood.”

“I don’t misunderstand things that easily.”

“You said it bothered you for a couple of reasons; what’s the other?”

“He told me he had been in France for the conference, but there was a half-stripped Swiss Railways checked-luggage sticker on his suitcase.”

“That could have been from a previous trip.”

“I thought so too until I showed the bottle of wine to a friend of mine. He’s kind of a wine snob, and I wanted to impress him. I’d never had a dessert wine from South Africa before.”

“André, listen, you both need to get going.”

“Just let me finish. This friend of mine had heard of the wine. It has a very high sugar content, and its import is banned in the EU.”

“So?”

“So, France is part of the European Union. The senator couldn’t have possibly found this in some little French wine shop like he said.”

“I’m sorry, André, I still don’t get it.”

“Switzerland is not part of the EU, and they do allow this particular wine to be imported regardless of its sugar and alcohol levels. So, what was he doing in Switzerland that was such a big secret?”

“André, it might be something and it might not. I’ll look into it. Now, both of you get going.”

“What about Star Gazer?” prompted Natalie. “You said the whole thing wouldn’t work without Star Gazer.”

“Oh, yeah. I forgot that one.”

“Who is Star Gazer?” asked Scot.

“I’ve got no idea. I overheard the senator mention that whatever he was doing wouldn’t work without Star Gazer. Does that make any sense to you?”

“Not much of any of this makes sense. Now, seriously, you have to get going.”

Harvath pushed the two toward the door and waited five minutes. He left two twenties on the table and exited J.R.’s through the back. A strange, yet all-too-familiar feeling began to creep over him in the murky D.C. night. As he turned up the collar on his trench coat once again, he wished he’d brought his pistol.

Despite the confidence he had shown upon saying good-bye and packing Natalie and André off to the Radisson, Harvath had no idea what his next move was going to be. His credibility wasn’t exactly first-rate in Washington these days, and he knew he would have to be very careful about whom he shared his newfound knowledge with. What he had was explosive and could do an incredible amount of damage whether it was true or not. The mere suggestion that a senator, possibly two, might have been involved with the kidnapping of the president of the United States was almost inconceivable.

Scot normally did his best thinking on his feet, so when he left J.R.’s he walked, ignoring the light but steady rain that fell. He moved south on Seventeenth Street, passing Farragut Square, and turned left when he reached H Street. He walked along Lafayette Square until he reached Fifteenth, sorting and resorting everything he had heard. He spun the name Star Gazer around and around, trying to get a handle on it. Who or what was Star Gazer and what did the name have to do with what Senator Snyder was up to?

At Fifteenth, without giving it any thought, he automatically turned right. A block and a half later he was standing in front of the Treasury Building. In less than eight hours he was supposed to be back at this exact site for a detailed debriefing with Director Jameson and the secretary of the treasury, Paul Feigen. He wondered if once they’d extracted from him everything they wanted, they would terminate him on the spot.

Scot remembered what he had told himself only yesterday, though it seemed like a lifetime ago. If he was going to have any hope of keeping his career intact, he would need to be part of something that helped crack the case. That something might have fallen right into his lap, thanks to Natalie Sperando. Or, so he hoped. If no one believed André’s story, or if it couldn’t be verified, Scot was probably as good as washed up. It would look as if he were grasping at straws, doing anything he could to save himself, no matter how ridiculous it was and no matter whose name he dragged through the mud. He had to be very careful how he handled things.