“You know what, bitch? I’ve got a nice little knife here,” said the man.

The shooting had stopped for the moment, and Claudia heard the unmistakable click of a blade locking into place.

“I think you and I are going to have that party first, and then I’m going to let you watch while I cut you up. And then, you know what I’m going to do? I’m going to let you watch as I pluck each of your eyes from your head. Now get out here and take your medicine!”

Claudia pulled the slide back on her SIG and saw that there was already a round chambered.

“I told you to go to hell!” she shouted as she rose from behind the bed and put two slugs into the man’s chest.

He dropped the knife from his hand and slumped to the floor.

From the corner of her eye, Claudia saw the barrel of another gun in the doorframe of her bedroom. She whirled and fired, sending splintering pieces of wood flying. That was her last shot. She vaulted over the bed and landed on the corpse of the man who had intended to kill her. She grabbed for his pistol and fell back on her haunches ready to fire at the figure in the hallway.

“Claudia? Claudia? It’s me, Scot. Hold your fire. Don’t shoot. It’s only me. I’m going to come into the doorway. Don’t shoot.”

As soon as she saw it was him, shock took over and she began to sob uncontrollably.

73

The first thing Scot did was to pull the comforter off the bed and wrap it around Claudia, whom he’d moved into the living room. Next, he went to the bathroom and retrieved a towel to dry her hair.

“He didn’t hurt you, Claudia, did he?” Scot asked as he held her close and began drying her off.

“Oh, Scot,” she said, breathing in short gasps. “It was…It was horrible. He was trying to…to kill me. He was trying to drown me in the…the bathroom. He told me if I didn’t…didn’t tell him where to find you, he’d kill me.”

Harvath wrapped his arms around her. “You’re going to be okay. You killed him. He’s gone.”

“I can’t stop shaking,” she stammered.

“You’re in shock, but it’ll pass.”

Scot hated to do it, but he had to let her go. He moved quickly around the apartment, gathering up the things Claudia had set out for them.

“How about the backpacks, Claudia? Where are they?”

Her eyes moved toward the bedroom and that told Scot everything he needed to know. Inside, he found two that looked as though they would do the job. While there, he went through the dead man’s pockets, but didn’t find much. The man did have a radio, which now sported a nice hole from one of Claudia’s shots. It had passed through the radio and into the man’s chest. The radio told Scot what he already knew-the man wasn’t working alone.

Scot picked up the nine-millimeter Russian Makarov pistol and checked the magazine. There was one round left in the clip and one up the pipe. The assassin wasn’t carrying any extra ammo and the nine-millimeter round used in the Makarov was an intermediate, falling somewhere between the nine-millimeter Parabellum and the nine-millimeter Short. None of Claudia’s ammunition would work in this weapon, but at least two silenced shots were better than none. Scot dropped it into one of the backpacks.

Harvath returned to the living room and saw that Claudia was still shaking.

“Do you have any brandy?” he asked.

She nodded her head yes, and he went into the kitchen in search of it. He returned a moment later with a small bottle and a coffee cup. Scot poured some into the cup and handed it to her. “This will help steady your nerves a little bit. I’m almost done packing things up, and then we need to go. The police will be here soon.”

Claudia nodded.

On the floor in the entry hall, Scot had everything laid out. He quickly fieldstripped Claudia’s civil defense force assault rifle. The difference between Claudia and most of the rest of the standing Swiss citizen army was that she was authorized to have ammunition for the weapon. Scot loaded the triple magazine into the pack and followed it with a box of nine-millimeter rounds for their pistols, as well as two extra clips for Claudia’s SIG.

Carefully, Scot wrapped the Swiss SG551 SWAT assault rifle’s telescopic night-vision scope in a towel and placed it at the top of the pack.

He helped Claudia to the door, where he got her into a warm coat and then slung the two packs over his shoulders.

When they reached the alley, he was very careful to check things out before exiting. The man upstairs would have partners, any or all of whom could be lying in wait for them.

The distant wail of police sirens grew louder, and Scot had no choice but to pick up his pace. With his left arm around Claudia’s waist and his right hand holding his Beretta, Scot made it through the alley without incident. On the street, he tucked the Beretta away beneath his sweater and began the two-block walk to where Claudia had parked her car.

Scot forced himself to walk at a casual pace, so as not to draw any undue attention. Claudia’s VW was now only a half a block away. The ruse had almost worked.

Leaving the Federal Attorney’s Office, where he had been waiting for Claudia Mueller to return to work, the leader and last remaining member of the American hit team was now speeding toward Claudia’s. The final transmission he’d had was that someone was entering her apartment. There had been no further transmissions since then, and his man in the apartment had not responded to his repeated hailings. Something was wrong.

When he saw Claudia Mueller and Agent Harvath trying to appear casual while walking down the street two blocks from her apartment, he knew what had happened.

Instinctively, the man reached under the newspaper on the passenger seat for his weapon. He slowed his car to a crawl, as if looking for a parking space, to make sure he hadn’t been noticed by Harvath and the girl. So far, so good. It would only be a matter of moments and he could complete his assignment, collect the rest of his money, and get Senator Snyder off his back.

If Harvath was on to him, he gave no indication of it. The couple maintained their forced leisurely pace. It was only a matter of meters now. The black Opal rolled forward and he was so close that if he’d known German, he would have been able to decipher the writing on the two backpacks Harvath had slung over his shoulder.

It would all be over in less than a minute. The assassin removed the gun from beneath the newspaper and cradled it in his lap.

Despite his request to the contrary, the car rental agency had given him a vehicle with manually operated windows, not power. Harvath and the girl were on his right side, which meant he would need to lower that window. He didn’t want to risk the potential problems that could come from shooting through the glass. He let go of the weapon and leaned over to roll the passenger side window down. He grunted from the pain in his bandaged ribs and wondered how long it would take for him to fully recover from the shots he had taken in DC.

His eyes were off them for only a second, but when he straightened back up, two Bern police cars were careening down the street toward him at full speed, with lights and sirens blaring. Harvath and the girl had disappeared. There was no sign of them. A side street loomed only feet away. Did they go this way? Maybe they’re behind a parked car? The gun in his lap, the assassin had no choice but to make the quick right turn and get out of the way of the oncoming police cars.

Scot threw the backpacks on the backseat of the VW, slid the driver’s seat back, started the car, and eased out of the parking space.

Claudia told Scot where and when to turn. They were taking the fastest route out of Bern. Harvath checked his mirrors occasionally, but as he didn’t know the city that well and didn’t want to get caught in any possible police dragnets, he forwent his usual evasive driving procedures. He was confident there hadn’t been anyone else at the building from the assassin’s team. If there had been, the man would have come to investigate the shots. Whoever was in contact with the assassin via radio was most likely watching Claudia’s office and was therefore nowhere nearby. He was sure they were not being followed.