The Lions Of Lucerne

81

Lake Geneva, Wisconsin-04:30, next day

Two pairs of white Mercury Villager minivans pulled into the driveways of the houses bordering Donald Fawcett’s palatial estate. A fifth van waited out on Snake Drive, ready to apprehend any vehicles that might try to escape. At precisely the same moment, a Boston Whaler with quieted outboards was waiting for the go code to beach in front of Fawcett’s home and assault the house from the lawn.

Gary Lawlor watched the seconds tick by on his watch. The team of heavily armed FBI HRT and support agents had practiced the raid over and over again until Lawlor was confident they could do it in their sleep. Only then did he okay the actual assault. Based on what he had gleaned about Donald Fawcett and his involvement with the president’s kidnapping, he didn’t expect him to come willingly.

Lawlor had been provided with the details of a Swiss intelligence officer’s confession, given from his hospital bed in Geneva. Despite the Chinese wall that served to hide who took the confession and how it was obtained, Lawlor knew it had been done by the CIA. Supposedly, Gerhard Miner had willingly provided the confession and named names in exchange for a reduction in the charges. Whether certain methods had been used to extract the confession was anybody’s guess, but they probably had.

Despite Lawlor’s leads and a quickly closing net on Donald Fawcett, the White House wanted a quick end to the situation and had agreed to the deal. Gerhard Miner would probably show up somewhere with a bullet in the back of his head within a month anyway. Just as long as whoever did it wasn’t dumb enough to use one that said, “Made in the U.S.A.”

The information delivered to Lawlor also came with a special FYEO-For Your Eyes Only. The reason Gerhard Miner was in the hospital was because Scot Harvath had beaten the shit out of him, almost killed him with his bare hands. Lawlor couldn’t help but smile.

He looked once again at his watch. Thirty seconds. He told his teams to stand by. “Five…four…three…two…one. Go!”

Fifty-five agents moved in from their assigned positions. All of the utilities were cut, and the security system disabled. Within a minute, agents had breached the front doors and were sweeping the house. There was no sign of Fawcett.

A call came over the radio that agents clearing the study had found two bodies. Lawlor got to their position as soon as he could. What he saw turned his stomach, even after all these years. The bodies of two men, shot execution style, lay in a pool of congealing blood on the hardwood floor. Retrieving their wallets and seeing the names on their IDs made him even sicker. The bodies appeared to be those of Senators Russell Rolander and David Snyder.

After a thorough search of the property, Donald Fawcett was still nowhere to be found.