Brad Thor - The Lions Of Lucerne

“Are you okay?” she asked.

Was he okay? Sure, a swim was just what today needed to make it perfect. Scot could only shake his head. He was too cold to speak. He had lost all of his color, unless you counted the blue in his lips, and his teeth were chattering.

“Here, put this on,” said Claudia as she removed the life ring and draped her coat over his shoulders. “I hate to do this to you, but can you move? We have to get going.”

Scot nodded, and they made their way up the embankment.

As they reached the top, the ground in front of them erupted in a volley of muffled pops. The shooters were charging down the Spreuerbrücke right at them.

Claudia shoved Harvath down and reached for her SIG. She faked left and then jumped and rolled hard to her right, trying to draw their fire away from Scot. The trick worked, and the shooters turned their attention in her direction.

The bullets tore up the ground around her, and Claudia continued to roll, aiming as best she could at the figures closing in on her. She had long ago lost count of how many shots she had fired and had no idea how many she had left. Only two thoughts raced through her mind: stop these two men and protect Scot. Over and over she pulled the trigger and finally she saw one of the men drop his weapon and fall forward. It was the man in the long coat. Claudia had managed to hit him square in the chest. He dropped his H amp;K and fell forward, his momentum causing him to slide across the frozen ground like a runner stealing third. Only one left.

Claudia turned her sights on the man in the blue parka and pulled the trigger. She heard a sickening click. Nothing. She was out of ammunition. Not only that, but she had rolled as far to her right as she could. Claudia was trapped against the wall of the embankment. The man knew it and closed the gap fast.

As he moved in for the kill, there was a smile on his face. Claudia wondered if it would hurt to die or if it would be instantaneous, like turning out a light. She saw a muzzle flash and closed her eyes waiting for the projectile to shatter her skull and tear through her brain, but it didn’t happen. Slowly, she opened her eyes.

Three feet away, the man in the blue coat was on his knees with both hands clutching his throat, trying to stem the gurgling tide of blood. Ten feet farther, she saw Scot drop the heavy Beretta from his hands and fall back onto the ground.

Claudia ran over to the man in the blue parka and kicked his pistol away. She then ran to Harvath. “I thought for sure he was going to kill me,” she said.

“Not on my watch. I hear sirens, the police are getting closer. We’ve got to move.”

“You’re right. I have to get you out of here and into some dry clothes.”

“Wait,” said Scot. “Search both of the bodies. Don’t bother looking at anything, just shove everything you find into your pockets. Hurry up; it’s a bit nippy out here.” Scot managed a grin for a fraction of a second before his teeth began chattering violently again.

Claudia went right to work. Neither of the men had a wallet or very much else on them. She put everything she found in her pockets and then rushed back to Scot.

Her car was on the other side of the old town. How would she get him back to it? Any minute now the police would be swarming all over. Then she saw it. About two blocks up the St. Karli-Quai from where they were was a sign for the Tourist Hotel. Claudia got Scot on his feet and urged him forward. She hoped the exercise wouldn’t do him any further harm.

When they reached the hotel, a group of people were standing in front. They had heard the gunshots and come outside to investigate. They had no idea from which direction they were fired. There was a line of three taxicabs, and Claudia rushed with Scot up to the driver of the first one.

“Please, sir,” she said in German, “I need to get my brother to a hospital. We heard something that sounded like gunshots, and he lost his balance and fell into the river. I think he has hypothermia.”

Before the cabdriver could answer, the manager of the hotel, who was standing in the doorway, said to the cabdriver, “Heinrick, wait!” and he disappeared inside. Claudia had no idea what was going on. All eyes, including the cabdriver’s, were turned to where the manager had stood just a moment before. As quickly as he vanished, he reappeared with a thick wool blanket, which he wrapped around Scot. “Now you go!”

Claudia thanked him and climbed into the back of the cab with Scot as the driver peeled away from the curb. She spoke softly with Scot for a few moments and then addressed the driver. “My brother says it’s not as bad as I thought. He says I’m overreacting. My car is parked at the Matthäuskirche parking. Please turn right here and take Diebold-Schilling Strasse along the Musegg Wall to Brambergstrasse.”

“But he is soaked through. Are you sure?” asked the driver.

“He was only in the water for a few moments before I helped him out. I think the most important thing is to get him home to a warm bath and some nudelsuppe. Our mother is a nurse. I’ll call her and have her come over straightaway to look at him.”

“I can take you to the hospital. It’s no problem.”

Harvath managed a feeble, but believable, “Nein, danke,” from the backseat.

“As you wish,” replied the driver, who turned right at the Geissmattbrücke bridge and headed along the Musegg Wall toward the Old Town section of Lucerne, where Claudia and Scot had parked her car.

“Please turn up the heat,” Claudia asked the driver.

Scot smiled to himself as two police cars sped past. Could it possibly get any hotter?

Claudia got them out of town and onto the auto route for Bern as fast as she could. The heater was turned up as high as it would go. Scot stripped out of his wet clothes and remained huddled in the wool blanket until Claudia found a roadside café, where she bought containers of piping hot soup and coffee. Scot drank down everything she gave him and, when he was finally feeling up to it, reached into the backseat and pulled some clothes from his suitcase. Although Claudia should have been watching the road, every once in a while she sneaked a guilty peek at him getting dressed.

The color began to return to Scot’s face, and his shivering lessened.

“How are you feeling?” Claudia asked.

Even though he was fully dressed in new clothes with heavy wool socks, Harvath wrapped the blanket back tightly around his body. “Very pissed off.”

“Good. The way you were shivering, I thought we had made the wrong decision.”

“No, we made the right one. If we’d gone to the hospital, there could have been police, questions, and who knows what. Miner probably would have found us, and that would have been the end of the story.”

“I guess so, but if we had been wrong about the severity of your condition, that could have been the end of the story as well.”

“I know my limits. You don’t ever need to worry about me.”

“Thanks, Scot. I’ll remind myself of that next time I see you looking like a flipped turtle.”

There was a touch of hurt in her voice.

“Thank you,” said Scot.

“For what?”

“For saving my life.”

“You mean when I drew the fire of Miner’s men and pulled you from the river? That? That was nothing. Sorry I didn’t have a towel ready when you got out.”

Scot thought about what a gift she had for pissing him off while at the same time making him want to laugh out loud. They made quite a pair.

“How do you know the men were Miner’s?” asked Scot as he brought his mind back.

“They weren’t wearing any American brand-name clothes, and the man you shot in the throat was mumbling in German as he was dying. I just assumed Miner had sent them.”