The Lions Of Lucerne

82

Washington, D.C.-one week later

After five days in the Swiss hospital, Harvath was flown home to the United States, ostensibly to recuperate and undergo further tests. In reality, a whole host of people including the Justice Department, the CIA, the FBI, and the Secret Service wanted him back for debriefing. After a while, the questions grew to be monotonous and repetitive, but it was all part of the job. Director Jameson had an authorized agent transcribe Scot’s debriefing and only asked him to read it over and sign it if it was correct. Mercifully, Scot had no typing to do.

He attended a private ceremony at the White House after the funeral of the vice president. The story in the press was that the cause of death had been injuries suffered in a freak accident at home, while in reality Marshfield had finally cracked under the pressure of what he had done. Knowing he would soon be caught, he’d realized he couldn’t face the music and took his own life.

Harvath was shown into the Oval Office and was soon joined by the president, who was accompanied by the attorney general, Gary Lawlor, and Secret Service director Jameson. Scot stood as they entered.

“Here is the man I’ve been waiting to see,” said the president as he strode across the blue carpeting.

Seeing the president’s right arm in a sling, Harvath immediately offered his left hand. The president grasped it warmly.

“I cannot thank you enough,” the president said. “Once the full story of what you went through was relayed to me, I couldn’t believe it. You risked everything.”

“That’s my job, sir,” said Harvath.

“Well, I don’t know how to repay you.”

“It’s not necessary, sir.”

“Sir, if I may interrupt?” broke in the attorney general.

“Of course.”

“I know your time is limited, and I also know you requested that this meeting with Agent Harvath function as a wrap-up.”

“A wrap-up?” asked Scot.

Director Jameson cleared his throat. “Kind of a final debriefing. We know the overall facts are a bit fuzzy for you, and the president felt you had earned the right to the full story.”

“I see,” said Scot.

“Why don’t we all take a seat?” said the president. The guests divided themselves among the couches and assembled chairs.

“Since Deputy Director Lawlor was responsible for such a large part of the investigation,” said the attorney general, “I think he should be the one to fill you in. Agent Lawlor?”

“Thank you, Attorney General. Agent Harvath…Scot. On behalf of all of us, I would like to apologize for the way in which we treated you,” Lawlor said.

“That’s not necessary,” said Scot.

“No,” continued Lawlor, “it is. Your instincts were right on the money every step of the way. It’s because of you that we have the president back in one piece.”

“Well, maybe not exactly one piece,” the president said, holding up his sling. Everyone in the room laughed politely. Lawlor waited for the laughter to die down before continuing.

“To a certain degree, the real linchpin was the wine invoice you sent me. The Vin De Constance that Miner had cellared at the Hotel des Balances was actually paid for by Donald Fawcett.”

“The industrialist?” Scot was amazed. Yet another twist. “What does he have to do with all of this?”

“The president had put together-and you will excuse me for saying so, sir-a rather shaky coalition to pass a new piece of legislation. It is an alternative-energy bill that would cut our dependence upon fossil fuels dramatically over the next twenty years. Do you know how Fawcett Industries makes most of their money?”

“Lemme guess. It has something to do with fossil fuels?” asked Scot.

“Right, their mining, extraction, refinement, distribution, and sale, to be exact. His commercial empire is based on it. Even passage of part of the president’s bill would have cost him hundreds of millions of dollars. If the act passed in full, it would cost billions.”

The president broke in. “There were strong lobbying efforts for and against this bill. There were lots of jobs and related issues at stake. It’s no secret that I am not seeking another term. This bill was going to be my legacy, and I was bound and determined to get it passed. As Deputy Director Lawlor noted-and no offense taken, by the way-the coalition of votes I had established was shaky at best. Without me there to cajole and handhold, the whole thing would have fallen apart.”

“So-if I may?” asked Scot.

“Certainly,” replied the president.

“Fawcett’s goal was to get you out of the picture long enough to have the bill stall and fall apart?”

“The deputy director is the best one to fill in all the details.”

“Thank you, Mr. President. Apparently, that was the plan,” said Lawlor. “But it went bad. I’ll remind you, Scot, that nothing we talk about can ever leave this room.”

“Yes, sir. I understand completely.”

“Star Gazer turned out to be the vice president.”

“Vice President Marshfield?” Scot was sickened by it, but not completely surprised.

“Yes. Unfortunately, the vice president, being of weak character, was drawn into this mess along with Senators Snyder and Rolander.”

“What was in it for them?”

“It was the same across the board for all of them-money. Rolander and Fawcett had been pals since their college days, and I think Rolander had always been envious of Fawcett’s wealth. Rolander got in his pocket early on, and then at some point in this process, when and how we may never know, he brought Snyder in. They wooed Vice President Marshfield with promises of a huge campaign war chest filled with untraceable contributions.”

“And,” said Scot, “with the president not running for reelection next year, this scenario gave Marshfield a chance to get out in front of the cameras and show American voters how he could operate in a tough situation.”

“That’s right. The thing he wasn’t expecting was for the situation to get tougher. From what we’ve been able to uncover, the deal had been that the kidnappers would hold on to the president long enough for the bill to collapse, and then he would be sent home.”

“So the FRC angle was just a front all along, wasn’t it?”

“Exactly. The kidnappers knew Marshfield would never authorize the release of the Disneyland bombers, nor would he put pressure on any other countries like Egypt to release any funds or other prisoners the kidnappers might ask for. It was all one big ruse.”

“Just like the president’s cell in Switzerland. When he was returned home and debriefed, everything he would describe would be consistent with having been kidnapped by the Fatah. Right down to the lousy smells, desert heat, and calls to worship.”

“That was the plan, but then the kidnappers got greedy. They already had the president, why not demand more money? Fawcett didn’t care what happened, so he wasn’t going to pay up. He’d already paid them enough and even if they did kill the president, Marshfield would take his place and Fawcett would own the new president lock, stock, and two smoking barrels. When the kidnappers turned their sights on Marshfield for more money, that’s when he began to fall apart.”

“How did Bill Shaw fit into all of this?”

“Marshfield recruited him. Shaw had been involved in a couple of small things he shouldn’t have been. He was helping to rig security contracts for old friends, and when Senator Snyder gave this information to the vice president, it was pretty easy bringing Shaw on board. He was offered money and a good chance at the directorship of the Secret Service once Marshfield took office.”

“But you didn’t put all this together from the wine invoice, did you?” asked Harvath.

“No. A lot of this was the result of Miner’s and Shaw’s confessions. The wine invoice led us to Fawcett, which led us to the refinery fire in Magna, Utah, just outside of Salt Lake. When we realized the president had been kidnapped, we checked and triple-checked every flight that left the Salt Lake area. There had been a MediJet flight supposedly repatriating one of Fawcett’s British chemists terribly burned in the fire back home to England to die. The problem was, the deeper we looked into it the harder the chemist was to find. He was a ghost. He never existed.

“We got ahold of the plane and had our forensics people go over it for everything. The MediJet people said that because of an oxygen tent that was needed to transport the terribly burned patient, the patient used his own stretcher. We found small pieces of mud that must have been on the wheels of the stretcher that matched the mud from the farm where the Mormon couple had been murdered.”

Scot remembered how badly Lawlor had chewed him out at that farm and let it pass. That was behind them now. “So, the farm was a staging ground and they loaded the president into an ambulance there and simulated the burns before leaving on the MediJet flight?”

“Yes, and all of this has been confirmed in Gerhard Miner’s confession.”

“That’s why I needed you to let him live, Scot,” said the president. “We needed to know who was behind all this.”

“So, what now? I understand Fawcett is still at large,” said Scot.

“With his kind of money, it’s easy to disappear,” said Lawlor, “but we’ll find him. We already have a couple of leads. By the way, I have a message for you from my boss, FBI director Sorce.”

Scot’s eyebrows raised.

“He was needed at the office and was sorry he couldn’t be here to give it to you in person. You can imagine how busy all of us still are.”

“Of course I can.”

“Director Sorce wanted me to tell you how proud he is of you. He says you are a credit to the Secret Service and to your country.”

“Hear, hear,” said Director Jameson.

“Secondly, he knew the tremendous burden you felt losing so many men. He wants you to know his thoughts are with you.”

“That’s very kind of him. Please tell him I said thank you.”

“But, that’s not all.”

“No?”

“No. He is very aware of how William Shaw betrayed you and the rest of the Secret Service. He wants you to know that Shaw will be standing trial and that he apparently ‘slipped’ several times as agents took him into custody. The director knew you would appreciate this last bit of information.”

Scot looked at the president and the attorney general, who acted as if they didn’t comprehend the reference, and then let a small smile creep across his lips. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” said Lawlor. “So, that’s about it. Any questions?”

“I have one for the president.”

“Go ahead,” he said.

“How’s Amanda?”

“She’s wonderful and is mending quite well. That’s another thanks I owe you. You saved my daughter’s life.”

“I’m just glad she’s going to be okay.”

“If you have time after this meeting, she’s recuperating in the residence and would love to see you.”

“That would be nice. I’ll make sure I stop by.”

“Director Jameson, I believe you have something else to say?” said the president.

“Yes, sir. Scot, the Secret Service is extremely proud of you. We know what has happened over the last almost two weeks has not been easy for you at all. It also goes without saying that you have been cleared of all allegations of wrongdoing, and we apologize that you were ever placed in this situation to begin with. We know you’ll probably need a little more time off for R and R, but the president has authorized me to offer you the position of chief of White House Security. We have a lot of rebuilding to do, and none of us can think of a better man to do it.”

“I don’t know what to say.”

“Say yes,” said Lawlor, and the room broke out in another polite round of laughter.

“Yes, I’ll take it.”

Everyone in the room stood and applauded, and Scot rose to shake their hands.

“Before you go,” said the president as a hush fell over the room, “I would like to ask you, Agent Harvath, if there’s anything else I can do. You saved my life and my daughter’s. I’ve given you a new job, but that’s hardly enough. If there’s anything else I can do for you, say the word and it’s yours.”

“Well, Mr. President, there is one thing.”