Rules of Deception Read Free Page B

flying out of Stockholm, Sweden. Its tail number, N415GB, was known to the intelligence agencies of every Western nation. The same aircraft had transported Abu Omar, the radical Muslim cleric spirited off the streets of Milan, in February 2003, from Italy to Germany, and finally to Egypt, to undergo interrogation at the hands of his countrymen.
    It had also carried a German citizen of Lebanese descent, one Khaled El-Masri, arrested in Macedonia, to the “Salt Pit” prison at Bagram Air Force Base, outside Kabul, Afghanistan, where it was eventually discovered that he was not, in fact, the same Khaled El-Masri who was sought in connection with terrorist activities.
    One success. One failure. It was the going rate these days, thought von Daniken. The important thing was that you stayed at the table and kept playing.
    The aircraft hit the tarmac hard. Ice and water sprayed from its tires. The engine roared as its bafflers moved into place.
    “Smug bastards,” said a thin, nearly gaunt man with longish red hair and a professor’s round spectacles. “I can’t wait to see their faces. It’s about time that we taught them a lesson.” His name was Alphons Marti, and he was Switzerland’s minister of justice.
    Marti had represented Switzerland as a marathoner in the Seoul Olympics in 1988. He’d come into the stadium dead last, legs rubbery from the heat, bobbing and weaving like a drunk on a three-day bender. The emergency medical personnel had tried to stop him, but somehow he’d pushed them away. One step past the finish line, he collapsed and was immediately transported to the hospital. To this day, there were those who viewed him as a hero. Others had a different view, and whispered about an amateur masquerading as a professional.
    “No mistakes now,” Marti continued, gripping von Daniken’s arm. “Our reputation is on the line. Switzerland does not permit this kind of thing. We are a neutral country. It’s time that we take a stand and prove it. Don’t you agree?”
    Von Daniken was old enough and wise enough not to answer. He brought the radio to his mouth. “No one hit their lights until I give the order,” he said.
    One hundred feet away, hidden behind a checkered barrier, a minor fleet of police vehicles waited for the signal to move in. Von Daniken glanced to his left. Another barricade concealed an armored personnel carrier holding ten heavily armed border guards. He had argued against a show of force, but Marti would have none of it. The justice minister had waited a long time for this day.
    “Pilot has requested to deplane,” said the major from the Border Guard. “The tower is directing him to the customs ramp.”
    Von Daniken and Marti climbed into an unmarked sedan and drove to the designated parking spot. The others followed in a second vehicle. The Gulfstream veered off the runway and approached the customs ramp. Von Daniken waited until the plane had come to a complete halt. “All units. Go.”
    Blue and white strobes lit the slate sky. The police cruisers sped from their hiding places and surrounded the plane. The personnel carrier lumbered into position, a soldier bringing the .50-caliber turret gun to bear. Commandos in assault gear spilled out of the vehicles and formed a semicircle around the plane, submachine guns raised to their chests and aimed at the doorway.
    All this circus because of a simple telefax, thought von Daniken, as he climbed out of the sedan and checked his pistol to ensure that there was no bullet in the chamber and that the safety was in the on position.
    Three hours earlier, Onyx, Switzerland’s proprietary satellite eavesdropping system, had intercepted a telefax sent from the Syrian embassy in Stockholm to its counterpart in Damascus giving the passenger manifest of a certain aircraft bound for the Middle East. Four persons were aboard: the pilot, the copilot, and two passengers. One an agent of the United States government, the other a terrorist wanted by the