“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.”
“Seems like it.”
“You were also right about something.”
“What was that?”
“They were in radio contact. They each had an earpiece and a sleeve mike. The radio was a German brand.”
“Was there anything in their pockets?”
“No wallets, which doesn’t surprise me. These men would not be carrying ID around with them. That’s not the way it’s done.”
“I agree. Anything else?”
“Cash, cigarettes, and each had one of these,” said Claudia, who pulled out what looked like two playing cards from her pocket and handed them to Scot. He was getting warm now, and with his free hand he turned down the VW’s heater.
Harvath examined the cards. They had a magnetic strip on the back and a red dragon on the front, under which were the words Mt. Pilatus and some other lines written in German.
“What are these?” said Harvath.
“They are kind of like lift tickets for Mount Pilatus.”
“What is it?”
“Pilatus is a mountain not too far from Lucerne. Normally, on clear days, you can see it from the city. According to legend, the body of the Roman governor Pontius Pilate is buried in the lake near the top, and supposedly this was the only place his soul could rest. Every year on Good Friday, he is said to rise from the water to wash the blood from his hands. The mountain is named after him.”
“That’s just charming. What about this dragon on here? What’s that all about?”
“That is the logo for Mount Pilatus. It comes from something different. Starting in the fourteen hundreds, the people of Lucerne began to think they saw dragons around the mountain, and the image stuck.”
“Tell me more about the mountain.”
“There are two hotels on the top. One is called the Bellevue, and it is completely round like the Schilthorn in the Jungfrau region. The other is a more traditional hotel called the Hotel Pilatus Kulm.”
“What’s the attraction up there?” asked Scot.
“The views mostly. Although some people come for hiking, rock climbing, and paragliding as well.”
“So it’s kind of like the Jungfraujoch?”
“I guess that would be a fair comparison, but the Jungfraujoch is actually carved into the glacier and the mountain, while the hotels at Pilatus are basically built on top of it.”
“But, why would these two guys be carrying lift tickets for Pilatus?”
“Maybe they were hikers,” said Claudia.
“C’mon, Claudia, think. They don’t carry wallets with them, but they do carry these lift tickets? Why would they need them?”
Claudia focused on the road in front of her while she toyed with Scot’s question in her mind.
“Do you suppose,” Scot continued, “that they were going to kill us and then go off for a nice little hike?”
“Don’t be stupid.”
“Then why have the tickets?”
“To get up to the top of Pilatus.”
“Right. And if they were carrying the tickets with them when they attacked us, that probably means they were going to be using them afterward, right?”
“I guess you could be right.”
“How many ways are there to get up Pilatus?”
“Well, you can hike it. That takes about five hours. Then there is a series of two gondolas and a cable car from the town of Kriens, or you can take the cogwheel railway from the town of Alpnachstad.”
Scot opened Claudia’s glove compartment and started rummaging around.
“What are you looking for?” she asked.
“Do you have a map of the area around Lucerne?”
“Yes, it’s in my Swiss atlas, underneath your seat.”
Scot fished out the atlas and found the pages he was looking for.
“Okay, I’ve got the towns,” said Scot. “So the cogwheel train is direct, no transfers?”
“Right. Why? What are you thinking?”
“Would it be possible to hide someone in one of the hotels up at the top of Pilatus? Let’s say maybe Miner knows the owner or is blackmailing him? Could he do it?”
“I suppose he could, but it’s not very likely.”
“Why not?”
“The staff of those hotels are much like others all over the country. They’re very chummy and they talk. They all know each other’s business and everything that goes on in the hotels. It is hardly likely Miner could hide your president there.”
“Good point. What about someplace else, maybe only halfway up the mountain?”
“From what I could see on the tickets, they are good for travel all the way to the top. Why would they pay for full trips and not use them?”
“To throw anybody off if they ever came across the tickets?” Scot speculated.
“If they ever thought anyone would find the tickets, why not leave them at home in their wallets? Or better yet in their car?”
“I was thinking about that. If for some reason the two men got separated or couldn’t get back to their car, they would need to know they could still get up the mountain, so they would have to keep their passes on them at all times.”
“Why not just carry enough cash to be able to buy a new ticket?”
“That means dealing with a cashier…maybe standing in a line. There’s too much chance of being remembered or seen on a security camera. If Pilatus is where they’re staying, they’d need to get up and down as easily as possible. Hence the need for keeping the passes on them at all times. Now, if they aren’t using the hotel, where else might they be?”
Claudia twisted her lip and frowned. “Aside from the gondola and cable car stations, the mountain only has scattered cowsheds and yurts that are used for hikers… What are you thinking?”
“There is a small airfield on the map here at Alpnachstad. It would be a piece of cake for Miner to get in and out from here with relatively little interference. Do you know if it’s a private airfield?”
“From what I remember, it’s mainly for civilian aircraft, but there are one or two military hangars… That’s it!” cried Claudia, thumping her palms against the VW’s steering wheel.
“What?” said Scot. “What’s it?”
“I was wrong,” said Claudia.
“About what?”
“About Pilatus.”
“How so?”
“I was wrong when I said the attraction, the tourism infrastructure such as the hotels, was built on top of the mountain, unlike the Jungfraujoch.”
“So, either it is or it isn’t.”
“Actually, it is and it isn’t. All of the things the tourists see are pretty much sitting on top of Pilatus. The final cable car ride up and the cogwheel railway each approach the summit from different sides of the mountain. Normally the tourists go up one side and come down the other. The marketing people at Pilatus call it the Golden Round Trip. The cable car and the cogwheel railway arrive and depart beneath the Hotel Bellevue, which is partly recessed within the mountain.”
“So?”
“So, when I first started climbing in competitions, I did some around Pilatus. My grandfather was a climber and he was my coach. He had done a lot of climbing on Pilatus itself. Do you know what my grandfather did for a living before he retired?”
“No, but I hope it has something to do with what we’re talking about.”
Claudia ignored Scot’s crack. “He was an engineer with the army.” She looked at Scot as if where this was leading should be obvious. Scot looked right back at her with a blank stare.