“Do you think the crest springs a door?”

“There’s only one way to find out.”

“You’re right,” said Scot. “Stand back over there and have the Makarov ready.”

Claudia stepped backward and used the altar for cover. Scot transferred the MP5 to his left hand and reached up with his right for the emblem. The stone was cold and rough beneath his fingers. He took a deep breath and tried to push it in. Nothing happened. He then tried pulling it out-nothing. Think, he told himself. He tried turning the crest clockwise, and it began to give.

There was a heavy grating sound of stone scraping against stone as the entire baptismal font slid back to reveal a narrow spiral staircase leading straight down.

Open sesame, said Scot to himself.

Small flickers were followed by a series of lights beginning to illuminate. Scot flinched, and his finger tightened around the trigger, ready to fire. After nothing further happened, he realized that there must be an automatic mechanism that turned on the lights when the hatch was sprung. Whoever designed the stairway was quite ingenious. The first fixture was far enough down so that it wouldn’t cast any light whatsoever into the church. Scot signaled Claudia, who slung the assault rifle and followed him into the stairwell.

78

Scot quietly descended the metal stairs with Claudia directly behind him. He delicately placed one foot in front of the other, careful not to make any sound. They were inside the Lions’ den now, and there was no telling when or where the first one would appear.

When they reached the bottom, Claudia could see that the energy it took to move with such stealth was depleting what fragile reserves Scot had left. She gave him that same you are going to be okay look he himself had given wounded colleagues and kidnap victims he had been tasked with rescuing over the years as a SEAL. In response to her glance, Harvath simply flashed back a thumbs-up.

He knew there was probably a mechanism to trigger the closing of the secret door above, but he didn’t have any time to waste looking for it. A small hatchway led from the bottom of the stairs into a deserted corridor. The whole scene was eerily familiar.

He remembered visiting one of the last remaining Nazi bunkers in Berlin. Everything he now saw was exactly the same-vintage World War II. The walls, which had been painted a utilitarian gray, were amazingly smooth considering they had been carved right out of the rough stone of the mountain itself. With it located this far below the surface, there was no doubt how solid the compound was. Even the hatchway they had just passed through was made from thick sheets of steel capable of withstanding an incredible blast. The bare bulbs that lined the walls and lit the corridors were enclosed in rusty wire cages, which only added to the feeling of total isolation that the Swiss bunker exuded at every turn.

“Where do we start?” whispered Claudia.

A series of three different hallways branched off from where they now stood. Squares of lighter-colored paint with holes in the corners were on the wall at the beginning of each hallway and probably marked where evacuation plaques had once been. It would have been extremely helpful to look at one of those right now and ascertain the bunker’s layout.

“Eenie, meenie, miney…We’ll take this one.”

“What about more sentries?”

“The way I figure it, Miner doesn’t have a lot of men he can spare.”

“Why not?”

“We killed two of his men in Lucerne and two more outside. That makes four. There’s a finite number of men he would have risked bringing in on this assignment. They would have to be men he could trust, men he had worked with before, and just enough to do the job. More men means more people to split the money with and more chances of word leaking out and getting caught.

“We’ll take this tunnel first.”

The entire structure looked deserted. The only noise came from the overhead ventilation system, which creaked and moaned as it circulated air. Someone was here, somewhere. It was just a matter of finding them.

Scot and Claudia passed room after room…all empty. There were barracks, a mess, and even a communications room with its equipment covered by locked metal panels. No Smoking signs were posted every three feet, and the tunnel seemed to go on forever. When they finally reached the end, they had the choice of going right or left.

“What do you think?” whispered Claudia.

“I think someone around here doesn’t much care for smokers.”

“What?”

“Never mind. All the other tunnels turned left, so I say left.”

“I agree.”

Carefully, the two moved forward, checking each and every room for signs of life. The fact that they had yet to see any gave them both the chills, though neither would ever have admitted it.

They came upon another room. This one appeared to be an infirmary or operating room of some sort, and it didn’t look deserted. It had been used recently. They entered and swept the room with their weapons, Scot on point and Claudia watching his blind spots. She was quickly getting the hang of this.

Medical instruments, saline IV bags, empty vials, and surgical equipment were scattered everywhere. A stainless steel table stood in the middle of the room. Scot depressed the foot pedal of a nearby garbage can and found a mass of bloody gauze, gloves, and paper wrappers.

“Well, now we know someone’s been here for sure,” said Scot, beckoning Claudia to come see what he had found.

Claudia looked inside as Scot dug around the can with the muzzle of his H amp;K. She never learned whether he was looking for something in particular or just out of curiosity, because a stocky man with a military flattop strode into the room at that very moment.

The man’s first reaction was surprise. The last thing he expected to see standing in his surgery room was an armed couple going through his trash.

In one smoothly executed move, Claudia let go of the assault rifle and drew the Makarov from her waistband. She had only one shot and she used it perfectly. The bullet entered the nurse’s brain, just above his left eye. He was killed instantly and dropped straight to the cold tile floor.

Harvath was on the man in a heartbeat, dragging him inside, where his body couldn’t be seen from the hall.

“Where’d you learn to shoot like that?” he asked.

“Growing up on a farm in Grindelwald, you find lots of ways to amuse yourself.”

“I doubt you learned that kind of shooting on a farm. Help me get him all the way inside.”

Claudia was just as amazed as Scot at her own deadly accuracy because, in fact, she hadn’t aimed at the man’s head; she had been aiming at his chest. Either he moved or she moved, or they both did just at the last second. It really didn’t matter. What mattered was that the man had been neutralized before he could sound an alarm.

“We must be getting close. They wouldn’t have spread themselves too thin. There are probably three or four rooms that they’re using. They will be as close together as possible. Let’s get moving before anyone comes looking for this guy.”

Harvath checked the hallway, twice, before signaling to Claudia that it was safe to come out. They continued in the same direction, hugging a flat wall with no further doors. A group of crates were pushed up against the left-hand side, and they had to swing out to the right to get around them.

As soon as they stepped into the middle of the hallway, a yell broke out behind them. “Eindringlinge! Eindringlinge!” (Intruders!), followed by a spray of automatic weapon fire.

Scot grabbed Claudia and threw her behind the crates for cover and then landed right on top of her.

“I guess they know we’re here,” she said.

“You think so? Listen, I’ll take care of the guy with the big mouth, and you make sure nobody comes from the other direction.”