Rules of Deception

69

Von Daniken started down the hillside. The snow was knee-deep and wet, and it buried his leather brogues. He didn’t care. He’d bill the department for a new pair. He put his hand on his pistol, then took it away. In thirty years of service, he’d never drawn his gun and he saw no reason to start now.

A second police car pulled up on the road behind him. Several plain-clothes officers jumped out. Suits all around. He didn’t recognize any of them. No doubt they hailed from the state police.

He turned to Myer. “Radio for a cordon to be set up on Davosstrasse to make sure Ransom doesn’t get back to the main street.”

“Chief Inspector von Daniken,” someone called.

Von Daniken looked over his shoulder. The voice…he knew it. He studied the men closely. He’d never seen any of them before.

“Stay where you are,” said the familiar voice. “We have a warrant for your arrest.”

Von Daniken did a double take. Those are my words, he thought as he put a face to the voice. He saw the slight figure emerge from between the cars. The pale complexion. The red hair worn too long for a man his age.

“The charge is conspiring with a foreign intelligence service,” Alphons Marti called from up on the hill. “Come back to the car, Marcus, so I don’t have to tell my men to restrain you.”

Von Daniken continued to trudge through the snow. A warrant for my arrest. How ridiculous. Yet, deep inside, he’d been waiting for the hammer to fall. It wasn’t just what Tobi Tingeli had told him this morning, though that had sealed the deal. He’d known two nights earlier, when Marti had refused to let him call out the police to search for the drone.

He looked at Kurt Myer, but Myer was being led away, too, and forced into the back of the police cruiser.

“Are you accusing me of being a spy?” asked von Daniken.

“I let the law accuse. My job is simply to enforce it.”

Von Daniken looked from Ransom to Marti. By now, several of his men were making their way down the slope. One of them had even drawn his gun. The American was jogging in the opposite direction, away from the car. “Aren’t you going to stop him? He’s the one we’re after!”

“Not today, Marcus. Today, you’re our number-one suspect.”

By now, a crowd had gathered around the outskirts of the meadow. Several people ran toward the car, including one man with a fire extinguisher. Ransom threaded his way among them, slowing his pace to a walk, getting closer and closer to freedom.

Von Daniken began walking across the meadow, his pace quickening until he was jogging. “Ransom,” he called. “Stop! Do you hear me?”

More soldiers and policemen were reaching the scene every second. No less than ten uniformed men were making their way up the western side of the meadow, fanning out to reach the burning car. Von Daniken waved at them. “He’s over there,” he shouted, motioning toward Ransom. “In the dark suit. The tall man with black hair.”

The policemen’s eyes flitted from von Daniken to Marti. Everyone knew the members of the Bundesrat by sight. As one of the seven-member Federal Council that ruled the country, he was a prominent national figure. They were not apt to disobey his orders.

Marti barked a command to one of his aides, who radioed a message via his walkie-talkie. The assembled soldiers ignored Ransom and converged on von Daniken. Dropping his hands to his knees, the chief of the Service for Analysis and Prevention, one of the nation’s highest-ranking law enforcement officials, stopped in his tracks and waited like a common criminal for the officers to reach him. “It’s alright,” he said, out of breath. “Give me a minute.”

Marcus von Daniken straightened up and looked across the snowy meadow. Caught in the glare was the outline of a black figure, dark as a rook’s wing. Then it disappeared.

Ransom was gone.