SIXTY-THREE

SWITZERLAND

W here are we going?” asked Jillian when Harvath got back in the car and pulled away from the curb in front of the hotel.

“Here, “He replied, and handed her the glossy brochure for Sion International Airport he had picked up in the lobby. “This caught my eye when we were on our way out this morning.”

As Jillian looked at it, Harvath added, “It’s a pretty impressive operation. Along with being a military airbase, they’ve poured a lot of money into it in the hopes that this region is going to be the next big thing. Besides having a runway long enough to accommodate the most sophisticated business jets, the airport has just about every service simple tourists like us could ask for.”

“I can see that,” replied Jillian. “Anything and everything when it comes to charters. Helicopters, gliders, hang gliders, parachute flights, sightseeing flights over the Alps. They don’t seem to have missed anything.”

“Nope. They even do glacier aviation, the desk clerk told me. It’s their specialty. If the glacier is big enough, they can actually land a plane on it.”

“So what’s the plan then?” asked Jillian as she set the brochure in the door pocket next to her.

“You and I are going to charter a plane and do a reconnaissance flight,” said Harvath. “We’ve already got pictures of what security is like at the base of the Aga Khan’s funicular. I want to see what things look like up top.”

“Then what?”

“Then we’ll try to figure out what to do next.”

Staring out the windshield at the mountains rising up on both sides of them, Jillian said, “A line like that doesn’t inspire a lot of confidence.”

Harvath forced a smile and replied, “I’ll try to come up with something a little bit better once I’ve gotten a look at Aiglemont. Right now, though, let’s focus on what we need to get done.”

Harvath and Alcott arrived at the Aéroport de Sion posing as climbers looking to charter a plane in order to conduct aerial surveys for a series of upcoming expeditions in the Bernese Alps. Even without reservations, they had no problem finding a willing charter company. Cold hard cash was an amazing problem solver. Not only did they luck out in finding a plane without a reservation, they also managed to land an extremely chatty pilot with an excellent command of English. The first thing he pointed out as they taxied out onto the runway was where the Aga Khan’s Cessna Citation X jet was parked. Had the police at the bottom of the funicular not been enough to confirm his presence, now they knew for sure that he was in residence. Hopefully, that meant Rayburn and Emir Tokay were at Aiglemont as well.

The pilot went on to explain that whenever the Aga Khan had one of his aid meetings or get-togethers with his bankers in Geneva, he had his own helicopter pick him up at Aiglemont and bring him back. He never drove.

With his detailed atlas of Switzerland on his lap, Harvath was able to guide the pilot over and around the peaks the would-be climbers were interested in tackling. Each pass was designed to bring them as close as possible to the Aga Khan’s mountaintop retreat, which their pilot was pleased to point out and discuss.

When Jillian told the pilot she hadn’t been able to capture the structure as well as she would have liked with her video camera, the pilot was more than happy to oblige with another, lower pass. Not only did they get an even better view, but they also got the additional bonus of seeing how the Aga Khan’s security team reacted to low-flying aircraft. It was exactly as Harvath had feared. The heavily armed men poured out of the building like angry bees from a hive. Though he couldn’t be one hundred percent sure, he even thought he saw one of the men armed with a shoulder-fired missile. The Aga Khan’s security team didn’t leave anything to chance.

After the pair had gathered all the pictures and videos they needed, Harvath had the pilot do a pass over Le Râleur and return to the Aéroport de Sion. The extent of what they had collected wouldn’t be evident until they were able to review it back in the hotel, but from what Harvath had seen already, he had a feeling it wasn’t going to be good. The Aga Khan’s retreat was impregnable.

SIXTY-FOUR

Back at the hotel, Harvath began printing out all of the digital stills from both their surveillance on the ground in Le Râleur and their reconnaissance flight over Château Aiglemont. As he did, he was still haunted by the feeling that there was something familiar about it, but he couldn’t put his finger on what it was.

After removing the art from one of the walls, they pinned up the pictures with thumbtacks. In addition to what looked like the original monastery buildings, Aiglemont had a glass solarium, which probably covered a pool of some sort, a structure housing the mechanical system for the funicular, a narrow concrete or stone patio in front, and a sickly piece of green which turned out to be a small, oblong patch of Alpine meadow that ran along the side of the main buildings and ended in an abrupt drop-off to the valley floor thousands of feet below.

“What do you think?” said Jillian as she stood back and admired their handiwork.

The first thing that came to Harvath’s mind was, I think we’re screwed, but he kept that thought to himself for the time being. “Let’s watch the video, “He replied.

They attached the camcorder to the TV and played the footage several times over, with Harvath stopping it in different places so he could note the reaction of the Aga Khan’s security forces. When he had seen enough, he said, “Those are definitely Rayburn’s men.”

“How can you tell?”

“Because they are doing exactly what the Secret Service would do in that kind of situation, right down to that man with the shoulder-fired missile. Château Aiglemont might as well be the White House as far as we’re concerned. In fact, it’s better than the White House because it’s protected by mountains on three sides and the only approach is via that funicular.”

“So are you saying it can’t be done?” asked Jillian as she watched Harvath walk over to the minibar and remove a beer.

Harvath looked at the freeze frame on the television and then up at the pictures tacked to the wall. “I don’t know, “He replied as he pried off the cap and took a long swallow. “I don’t know.”

Jillian didn’t like what she was hearing. “There’s got to be some way. What if we could get inside the funicular car in the village? That would work, wouldn’t it? It’s a two-car system. They’re counter-balanced. For the one at the top to come down, the one at the bottom has to go up, right?”

“True,” responded Harvath, “but how would we get them to send the other car down?”

“I would imagine that they would need to resupply at some point, wouldn’t they?”

“At some point, yes, but who knows how well provisioned they already are up there?”

“The waitress at the café today said that sometimes when the security personnel are not working, they come down to the village. What if we did it then?”

Harvath took another sip of his beer and thought about it. “We’d still have to get around the police guarding the car at the bottom.”

“We could come up with some sort of diversion,” replied Jillian. “One of us could distract them.”

“And if we got halfway up and they discovered we had managed to sneak onto the funicular, what do you think would happen then?”

“There would be quite a welcoming party when we got to the top.”

“Exactly,” said Harvath, taking another long swallow. “We’d be sitting ducks. Besides, if I know Rayburn, those funicular cars are wired with cameras, as well as intrusion monitors. Even if we got past the Swiss police, the security personnel at Aiglemont would know the minute we opened the door on that car, or the rooftop hatch, “He added, seeing the look on Jillian’s face. “I told you, Rayburn was one of the best the Secret Service ever had. I know better than to underestimate a man like that. We need to come up with something a lot better.”