Brad Thor - The Lions Of Lucerne

Walking down the Centralstrasse, Harvath roamed the neighborhood, and pretended to window-shop until five minutes before the post office closed. Then, he slipped his letter into the outdoor slot, satisfied that the letter would not make it into the post office box until tomorrow morning at the earliest.

He walked back to Balmer’s and ran his plan through his mind yet again. It was a long shot, and he knew it, but at this point, it was the only shot he had.

Star Gazer hurriedly grabbed the wastebasket beneath his desk and vomited. Lying on a crumpled piece of wax paper on his desk was a man’s severed finger. He knew whom it belonged to and who had sent it.

I can’t believe they managed to get this into my office, he worriedly thought to himself. First, all of those Secret Service agents get killed, then the Special Ops team, and now this. This is getting way out of hand. It has to end.

Two hours later, Star Gazer sat in his study facing Senators Rolander and Snyder. Once the doors had been closed by Star Gazer’s bodyguards and it was safe to talk, Rolander began, “I don’t think calling this meeting was such a good idea.”

“Oh, you don’t?” replied Star Gazer, anger notching his voice up as he spoke. “Well, guess what? I am done listening to you! This is all totally out of control!”

“Keep your voice down!” snapped Snyder. “Now, just tell us what’s got you so worked up.”

“What’s got me so worked up? I received a note today along with the president’s finger!” he said, ignoring Snyder’s request that he lower his voice.

Rolander was speechless.

“I am not going to tell you again. Calm down. What did the note say?”

“The kidnappers want fifty million dollars deposited to an account in Buenos Aries, or the next package I receive will contain President Rutledge’s head.”

“Our friends are getting a little greedy,” said Snyder.

“They can’t do this,” said Rolander.

“They are doing it,” replied Snyder, who turned back to Vice President Marshfield. “Are you sure it was Rutledge’s finger?”

“Positive. It had a funny half-moon-shaped scar at the knuckle which he always bragged about getting in a sailing accident.”

“What did you do with the finger?”

“What did I do with it? What do you think I did with it? I gave it to the Secret Service.”

“Jesus. What about the note? You didn’t show anyone the goddamn note, did you?”

“The note? Of course I did. You expect me to keep this to myself? This is all so insane. You have to stop this!” cried Star Gazer, the hysteria creeping back into his voice. “I never agreed to all of this killing, and what’s more, our deal was that the president be returned safely to his office.”

Marshfield was stepping on Snyder’s last nerve. “Don’t tell me what our deal was. I put it together, remember? You get your big fat war chest filled with untraceable campaign contributions and a chance to prove that you’re made of the right stuff to be president. You stand tough and don’t negotiate with terrorists and come out smelling like a rose. We know Rutledge doesn’t plan on running for a second term, so you sail right into the number one position in the world. We handed you exactly what you wanted, so don’t start telling me what our deal was.”

“I damn well will tell you, because your whole operation is falling apart!” shot Marshfield.

“The only thing falling apart here, Mr. Vice President, is you.”

“Me? You don’t even have enough fingers and toes to count all the dead bodies on. And from what I hear, you let that Secret Service agent, Harvath, slip right through your grasp!”

“I’m not going to tell you again. You do your job and we’ll do ours. All you have to do is to talk tough to the cameras and make sure the president’s coalition for that fossil fuel reduction bill completely collapses. We want every yes vote so solidly no that even if he walked back onto the floor tomorrow morning, there’d be no resurrecting it. Do you understand me? The rest you leave to us. And for God’s sake, man, pull yourself together. You certainly don’t look like presidential material to me.”

“I know. The pressure is just-”

“Marshfield, I’m going to say this once. I know you’re a smart man and I won’t have to say it more than that. If a president can disappear, think how easy it would be for a vice president to vanish…permanently. Get your shit together. This is the last time I am going to warn you.” Snyder stood and said to Rolander, “Let’s go.”

Fifteen minutes later, with the privacy screen raised and knowing Snyder had his limousine swept continually for bugs, Rolander felt safe to speak. “I’m worried about Marshfield.”

“There’s nothing to worry about,” said Snyder.

“Nothing to worry about? The man’s falling apart.”

“He’ll be fine. Besides, he knows what will happen to him if he tries to unburden his soul. I’ve got a pair of eyes on him at all times.”

“How deep does this thing go?”

“Deep enough to make it work. Right now, Marshfield is the least of our worries. I never should have let you talk me into concocting that plot to set up Harvath.”

“There wasn’t enough time to sit around and think. At the time, it made perfect sense. Killing him would have been too suspicious. Framing him solved a lot of problems in one tidy little package.”

“And then it created a whole hell of a lot more. We should have terminated him in his apartment when we had the chance.”

“Listen, David, there’s no use crying over spilt milk. He’s on the lam, and all that stunt has done is cemented Washington’s belief that he’s guilty.”

“But he knows too much.”

“Not enough. It’s all circumstantial. The rantings of a nut who has suffered severe head trauma. It will never stick.”

“He’s managed to kill two of my best contract agents outside the bank and seriously wound three others between there and the Union Station fiasco. Harvath is not someone I’m going to underestimate again.”

“From what you’ve told me, the two he killed were lucky shots. Your other guys, especially the one that got his arm torn out of its socket, deserved what they got for being stupid. They knew full well what kind of a background Harvath has. To try and take him up close was a mistake. One which I’m sure your people won’t make again.”

“No, they won’t.”

“Fine, now what about that ransom note Marshfield received?”

“What about it?”

“What are we going to do?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing? What do you mean, nothing?”

“I mean just that. I’ve already been through this potential scenario with Fawcett. He thought this might happen, especially considering how much money he’s already paid out. It was a natural to expect our Lions to get greedy. His decision was we do nothing.”

“But how can we do that?”

“Simple. If the president doesn’t return alive, then Marshfield remains in the number one position to finish out Rutledge’s term. A couple more well-orchestrated high-profile events while he runs down the clock for the former president and he’s a shoo-in to get reelected. Then he has the potential to serve for two full terms and we’ll own him all the way. It makes a lot of sense, really. We can’t lose.”

“Except, there’s a fly buzzing around that might land in the ointment.”

“Who, Harvath? For Chrissake, Russ. One minute you tell me not to worry about him and the next you’re painting him as the one thing that could bring everything crashing down around us. You think I’m going to let that happen? I already have a lead on him.”