Blowback

Setting his briefcase on the kitchen counter, Lawlor popped it open and marveled at how technology had changed over the years. A product of the Cold War, he was amazed at how much smaller everything was. Gone were the days of complicated installations that all but the most inexperienced observer could detect with enough effort. These days, covert listening and viewing devices were near impossible to spot. Not only that, but the DHS was working with the world’s most cutting-edge technology. Even the CIA, and that meant people like Brian Turner, hadn’t seen this type of gear.

Once everything was in place, Lawlor used a handheld short-distance radar emission unit to scan the apartment for any place Turner could have secreted documents clandestinely removed from CIA head-quarters. The search came up empty, and after verifying all of his covert video and audio feeds, Lawlor backed out of the apartment, making sure he left no trace of his visit.

FIFTY-NINE

SWITZERLAND

It was well past midnight when Jillian and Harvath arrived in the quiet town of Sion, capital of the Swiss canton of Valais, and found rooms for the night.

The next morning, after breakfast and a quick chat with the front desk clerk, they drove through town to an electronics shop called François JOST, where Harvath purchased a high-resolution digital camera, a small digital camcorder, and a top-of-the-line printer. in addition to extremely powerful, high-definition telephoto lenses for each camera, he also purchased a type of lens that had once only been available to people within the intelligence and law enforcement communities. Manufactured by a company called Squintar, the lens had a built-in mirror that allowed a photographer to take pictures at a 90-degree angle. In total, its housing could be rotated almost a full 360 degrees, all while the camera was pointing straight ahead. A popular surveillance tool for years, the Squintar allowed its user to take pictures of subjects without the subjects ever knowing they were being photographed.

Once the salesperson had explained how the cameras worked and had talked Harvath into upgrading to higher memory cards and purchasing extra batteries, videotape, and a dual car adaptor, the pair left the store and headed for the village of Le Râleur.

As they drove, Jillian charged the camera batteries, while Harvath explained their cover and how he wanted to handle things. The element of surprise was the only thing they had going for them. If Rayburn discovered that they were on to him, they would not only lose their advantage, but if he did still have Emir Tokay alive, he might get spooked and kill him, which was the absolute last thing they wanted.

Perched on the banks of a small, glacial lake surrounded by the sheer, rocky cliffs of the Bernese Alps on all sides, Le Râleur was one of the most beautiful villages Harvath or Jillian had ever seen. It looked like it should be gracing posters promoting tourism to Switzerland, as flowers spilled from boxes hung from the windows of intricately crafted wooden chalets, and the whitewashed village church, with its weather-worn copper-covered steeple gave scale to the towering grandeur of Le Râleur’s surroundings.

The first stop they made was at the village tourist information office, which was nothing more than a small glass booth with an ATM and a couple of racks filled with brochures. After selecting what they wanted, Harvath and Jillian got their cameras out and strolled into the heart of the town.

Interspersed with the high-end clothing boutiques, which had obviously been established with the wealthy tourist crowd in mind, were the small shops and businesses that were the true lifeblood of Le Râleur. Harvath and Jillian passed a fromagerie, a patisserie, a boucherie, and a boulangerie-all testaments to the French-speaking heritage of the region, but what could have drawn Rayburn to this place? Harvath wondered.

His first clue came when they reached the village square and spotted two manned police cars parked alongside each other in front of an old funicular railway. The scene reminded Harvath of something, but he couldn’t quite place it. Looking up, he could see that the railway line went all the way up to the top of one of the mountains. Even with his telephoto lens, all he could see from this distance was what looked to be the upper housing for the funicular.

A heavy metal chain blocked the stone steps leading to the railway car, and in case that and the policemen were not enough to dissuade any curious passersby, a large metal placard with Do Not Enter written in several languages had been hung from the chain itself.

Positioning Jillian at a ninety-degree angle from the funicular, Harvath took advantage of the Squintar lens affixed to his camera and clicked away. Once he had taken enough pictures, he called Jillian back over and suggested they get a coffee.