Root looked up at Tanner, then in turn at Cahil, Oliver, and McBride. “I don’t know what to say. I’ll never be able to repay you for what you’ve done for us.”
McBride said, “Go home and be happy. That’s enough for me.”
“Here, here,” said Cahil, and Oliver nodded along.
Tanner glanced at his watch. “We’ve got two hours before the bank opens. We need to move. Jonathan, Amelia, are you ready?”
They both nodded.
With Cahil trailing in the Mercedes and McBride leading in the Opel, Tanner stopped in front of the Goldene Krone, waited for Oliver to slip in the back with the Roots, then pulled away. In convoy they drove to the outskirts of Innsbruck and checked into the Austrotel Innsbruck, their third hotel since arriving. The measure was perhaps unnecessary, but this close to the end Tanner preferred to err on the side of prudence. If anything went wrong, he didn’t want the cause to be something they’d overlooked.
Once they were settled into the room and Root had Amelia sleeping, the four of them gathered around the table. Keeping it as simple as possible, Tanner laid out the skeleton of the plan, talked “what ifs,” then had Root, Oliver, and McBride repeat it back to him several times. As this was not his forte, McBride would remain at the hotel and watch over Amelia.
“Bear, you and Oliver will each have an SL8. I’ll take the Sauer,” Tanner said. “If we get company at the bank, no shooting unless I start. Ram them with the cars if you have to, but remember: One shot and we’ll find ourselves neck deep in Bundespolizei. Questions?”
There were none.
“Mr. Root, once Bear’s checked the bank and has given the all-clear, you’ll go inside and collect Kestrel. Page us when you’re thirty seconds from the door. If I’m not sitting at the curb when you step out, turn around and walk back inside. Don’t look around and don’t hesitate — just go back in. Understood?”
“Yes.”
“Find the nearest security guard and strike up a conversation. If it’s okay to move again, I’ll page you and we’ll try again. If it falls through a second time, walk back inside, redeposit the case, and wait until one of us or the police come to get you.”
According to Root, the case in which he’d sealed Kestrel was a specially made Zero Halliburton model with a brushed stainless-steel exterior, Lexan-lined interior, and a molded insert of visco-elastic foam into which the Kestrel canisters were fitted. While the case sounded impressive, Tanner knew he wouldn’t be able to relax until Kestrel was destroyed or, barring that, locked in a vault in the bowels of the army’s biostorage facility on Kalama Atoll.
“And if we make it outside without any trouble?” Oliver asked.
“We drive in convoy to the hotel, pick up Amelia and Joe, then get on the autobahn and head toward Salzburg. Halfway there is a town called Oberndorf. A security team from the Vienna embassy will meet us there. The security team will take everyone but Bear and I to the Salzburg airport, where an Air Force transport will be waiting. From there, with a few midair refuelings, it’s straight back to the U.S.”
Root said, “What about you two? Why aren’t you coming?”
“We still have business in Trieste,” Cahil said.
“Such as?” Root asked, then offered a smile. “I don’t like the idea of leaving my team behind.”
“We have another friend in need.”
Root nodded. “Then I’d say he or she’s in good hands.”
Let’s hope, Briggs thought.
The Bank of Tirol sat in a square dominated by a central fountain and ringed by small shops and boutiques. If not for the small brass plaque beside the entrance steps, the bank was indistinguishable from its neighbors, just another quaint Bavarian-esque building fronted by a modest awning and set against the backdrop of towering, snow-capped Alpine peaks.
Thirty minutes before opening time, everyone was in position, with Cahil and Oliver covering the square’s west and south entrances respectively and Tanner and Root in the Hyundai at the north. The east entrance, which was not only the widest, but also the most direct to the autobahn, they left open. Tanner was under no illusions, however: Autobahn or not, if they had to run they wouldn’t get far. Every cop between here and Salzburg would swoop down on them — which wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, Briggs knew. They’d be in jail, but Kestrel would be safe from Svetic.
Tanner sat in the driver’s seat, Root laying in the back on the floor, as the minutes ticked by. The square was quiet, with only a few shop owners and early morning customers milling about. Hissing softly, a fan of water arced upward from the fountain and splashed into the catch basin, sending up a plume of mist.
The square’s clock ticked over to 8:00 and began gong-ing. As if on cue, the Bank of Tirol’s doors opened. A short, bald man stepped out, looked up and down the square, then went back inside.
At the west entrance, Cahil climbed out of the Mercedes, walked across the square, trotted up the bank steps, and disappeared inside. Ten minutes later he emerged with a handful of what Briggs assumed were brochures. He paused at the base of the steps, stooped to tie his left shoe, then continued on to the Mercedes.
“We’ve got the all clear,” Tanner said to Root. “You’re on.”
“Right. You know, I’ve got to admit, I’m nervous.”
“I’d be worried if you weren’t. We’re almost done. Another two hours and it’s over.”
Root slid open the back door, stepped down, and started across the square. Tanner took the Sauer from under his seat and flipped off the safety. He began scanning the square, looking for loiterers, a turned face, movements out of sync with the crowds … At their posts, Cahil and Oliver would be doing the same.
Root passed the fountain, climbed the bank’s steps, and slipped through the door. Tanner glanced at his watch. He started his countdown. Based on his earlier visits, Root had estimated eight minutes from entrance to exit.
Six minutes passed. Then seven.
Tanner’s pager buzzed. He checked it: Root was on his way.
Tanner started the engine, shifted into drive, and started forward. As he passed Cahil, he heard the Mercedes’s engine rumble to life. A battered green Renault swung in front of Tanner, cutting him off. Briggs swung right, punched the accelerator, and drew even with the car. He glanced over. The driver, an old woman with thick glasses sat hunched behind the wheel. He accelerated the Hyundai again, passed her, and aimed for an empty spot in front of the bank.
He slipped into it, shifted into park, leaned back and slid open the rear door, then shifted into drive again. To his right, the bank door open. Root stepped out. In his left hand he carried a shining steel case.
Tanner glanced in his side mirrors, then the rearview. Two car lengths behind and to his left, Cahil’s Mercedes was pulling to a stop, blocking the road. Horns began honking. Ahead, Oliver had taken up station at the square’s east entrance. His hand dangled out the window, his fingers in an upside-down peace sign: All clear.
Root climbed into the car, slammed the door shut, and locked it.
“Lay down,” Tanner told him.
“Trouble?” Root asked.
“Not so far. Don’t get up until I tell you.”
Tanner waited for a gap in the traffic. Cahil pulled forward, blocking for him. Briggs swung out, accelerated toward Oliver’s Opel, and fell in behind his bumper as he, too, accelerated and turned the comer. With Cahil trailing, they headed toward the autobahn.
As planned, they drove in convoy around Innsbruck, on a tour that was designed not only to check for tails, but also to ensure they were never more than a few minutes from the nearest police station. Once certain they were clear, Tanner headed toward the Austrotel Innsbruck. One more stop and they were gone.