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FIFTY-SEVEN

Marco was the conscientious type of driver who used both hands behind the wheel — one to control the car and the other to make obscene gestures at everyone else on the road. He followed the signs for Menaggio, and when they arrived at the tiny village of Orimento, he parked the car and said, “We go the rest of the way on foot.”

The rest of the way on foot turned out to be an hour-long hike past waterfalls and mountain pastures to the top of nearby Monte Generoso.

When they reached the 1700-meter peak straddling the border between Italy and Switzerland, Harvath could finally see what Marco had in mind. In a broad meadow fifty meters downhill, four young men lay next to a pair of oversized canvas bags, enjoying the afternoon sun. It was the bags that gave Marco’s plan away. Each was emblazoned with the logo of the local Swiss paragliding club — Volo Libero Ticino.

After taking a moment to catch his breath and drain the last of the water from his bottle, Marco walked Harvath and Alcott down to meet the men, one of whom was his cousin, Enzo — president of Volo Libero Ticino.

The introductions out of the way, two of the club’s members began unpacking their gear, while Enzo gave Harvath and Alcott a thorough preflight briefing, explaining how tandem paragliding worked and what would be required of them as passengers. Though Harvath had extensive parachute experience, he understood the key to safe paragliding was in knowing your terrain. As he listened to Enzo go over what to expect during launch, flight, and landing, it was obvious the man was intimately familiar not only with the sport of paragliding, but with Monte Generoso and its surroundings as well. Marco had chosen very well. They would be in good hands.

Harvath and Jillian next climbed into special nylon flight suits, slipped on gloves to help guard against the cold, and then were each outfitted with a helmet and a harness. Once Harvath’s technical pack was securely attached to his chest, Enzo clipped into him from behind and a man named Paolo did the same with Jillian.

With one last look to check the brightly colored canopy laid out on the grass behind them, Enzo gave the command, and he and Harvath began running full-steam down the sloping meadow toward the edge of the mountain. After about twenty steps, Harvath began to feel his feet coming off the ground, but just as Enzo had instructed, he didn’t stop running until he was told. When the paraglider finally took flight, Enzo let Harvath know that he could sit back into his harness, relax, and enjoy the view. And what a view it was.

With the Swiss city of Lugano and its sparkling lake far below them, Harvath realized this was probably one of the most enjoyable, stress-free insertions he had ever conducted. He looked back to make sure Jillian had gotten off the mountain okay and saw Paolo’s canopy floating not too far behind them.

Enzo had explained that depending on the winds, it would take them only about fifteen minutes to reach their landing site, which was a soccer field in the lakeside village of Capolago. Privately, Harvath wished they could stay aloft as long as possible. Up here, gliding through the brisk mountain air, there was no sound but the wind as it rushed past his ears. It was easy to forget, if only for a moment, all of the troubles he was facing back on terra firma. It was as if in soaring weightless, a figurative weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He would have given a year’s salary to keep floating and never have to touch the ground again.

Because of his parachuting experience, Enzo soon offered to let Harvath take control of the paraglider, but Harvath politely declined. He wanted to enjoy his respite from responsibility until the very last possible moment.

Ten minutes later, the red-tiled rooftops and soccer field of Capolago materialized beneath them and Enzo brought them in for a landing. They had already unclipped from their harnesses and were folding up the canopy when Paolo and Jillian touched down mid-field.

Jillian and Scot stripped out of their flight suits and then helped the men pack up the rest of the gear. By the time they were finished, they were met by a small van sporting the Volo Libero Ticino logo, which drove them the fourteen kilometers into the city of Lugano. Per Marco’s instructions, Harvath and Alcott were dropped at a parking structure on the Via Pretorio, near the Piazzetta della Posta.

The silver Mercedes coupe had been left exactly where it was supposed to be, along with its key, a detailed map of Switzerland, and a full tank of gas. Taking the A2, they headed north until they ran out of highway and then turned west toward the Swiss Canton of Valais, Timothy Rayburn, and hopefully a very much alive Emir Tokay.