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The Doomsday Conspiracy :: Sheldon Sidney
Страница: 25 из 213”
“Do you plan to return the car to this airport?”
“Possibly.”
The clerk looked at him strangely. “Very well. Will you fill out these papers, please?”
Robert paid for the car with the special black credit card General Milliard had given him. The clerk examined it, perplexed, then said, “Excuse me.” He disappeared into an office and when he returned, Robert said, “Any problem?”
“No, sir. None at all.”
The car was a grey Opel Omega. Robert got onto the Airport Highway and headed for downtown Zurich. He enjoyed Switzerland. It was one of the most beautiful countries in the world. Years earlier, he had skied there. In more recent times, he had carried out assignments there, liaising with Espionage Abteilung, the Swiss intelligence agency. During World War II, the agency had been organized into three bureaux; D, P and I, covering Germany, France and Italy, respectively. Now its main purpose was related to espionage operations conducted under cover of United Nations diplomacy, from the various UN organizations in Geneva. Robert had friends in Espionage Abteilung, but he remembered General Hilliard’s words: You’re not to get in touch with any of them.
The drive into the city took twenty-five minutes. Robert reached the Diibendorf downtown off-ramp and headed for the Bolder Grand Hotel. It was exactly as he remembered it: an overgrown Swiss chateau with turrets, stately and imposing, surrounded by greenery and overlooking Lake Zurich. He parked the car and walked into the lobby. On the left was the reception desk.
“Guten Tag.”
“Guten Tag. Haben sie ein Zimmer fur eine Nacht?”
“Ja. Wie mochten Sie bezahlen?”
“Mil Kreditkarte.” The black and white credit card that General Hilliard had given him. Robert asked for a map of Switzerland, and was escorted to a comfortable room in the new wing of the hotel. It had a small balcony that overlooked the lake. Robert stood there, breathing in the crisp, autumn air, thinking about the task that lay ahead of him.
He had nothing to go on. Not one damned thing. All the factors in the equation of his assignment were completely unknown. The name of the tour bus company. The number of passengers. Their names and whereabouts. Are the witnesses all in Switzerland? That’s our problem. We have no idea where they are or who they are. And it wasn’t enough to find some of the witnesses. You must find every one of them. The only information he had was the date: Sunday, October 14th, and the place: Uetendorf.
He needed a handle, something to grab onto.
“Do you plan to return the car to this airport?”
“Possibly.”
The clerk looked at him strangely. “Very well. Will you fill out these papers, please?”
Robert paid for the car with the special black credit card General Milliard had given him. The clerk examined it, perplexed, then said, “Excuse me.” He disappeared into an office and when he returned, Robert said, “Any problem?”
“No, sir. None at all.”
The car was a grey Opel Omega. Robert got onto the Airport Highway and headed for downtown Zurich. He enjoyed Switzerland. It was one of the most beautiful countries in the world. Years earlier, he had skied there. In more recent times, he had carried out assignments there, liaising with Espionage Abteilung, the Swiss intelligence agency. During World War II, the agency had been organized into three bureaux; D, P and I, covering Germany, France and Italy, respectively. Now its main purpose was related to espionage operations conducted under cover of United Nations diplomacy, from the various UN organizations in Geneva. Robert had friends in Espionage Abteilung, but he remembered General Hilliard’s words: You’re not to get in touch with any of them.
The drive into the city took twenty-five minutes. Robert reached the Diibendorf downtown off-ramp and headed for the Bolder Grand Hotel. It was exactly as he remembered it: an overgrown Swiss chateau with turrets, stately and imposing, surrounded by greenery and overlooking Lake Zurich. He parked the car and walked into the lobby. On the left was the reception desk.
“Guten Tag.”
“Guten Tag. Haben sie ein Zimmer fur eine Nacht?”
“Ja. Wie mochten Sie bezahlen?”
“Mil Kreditkarte.” The black and white credit card that General Hilliard had given him. Robert asked for a map of Switzerland, and was escorted to a comfortable room in the new wing of the hotel. It had a small balcony that overlooked the lake. Robert stood there, breathing in the crisp, autumn air, thinking about the task that lay ahead of him.
He had nothing to go on. Not one damned thing. All the factors in the equation of his assignment were completely unknown. The name of the tour bus company. The number of passengers. Their names and whereabouts. Are the witnesses all in Switzerland? That’s our problem. We have no idea where they are or who they are. And it wasn’t enough to find some of the witnesses. You must find every one of them. The only information he had was the date: Sunday, October 14th, and the place: Uetendorf.
He needed a handle, something to grab onto.