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further. The press has gotten wind that Miner is appearing today, and they are out in full force. I don’t want anyone to see you going in the front, so I will take you in another way. You still want to check out the courtroom, don’t you?”
    “Of course I do, but how did the press get wind of the proceeding being changed to today?”
    “How do they find things out in America? People talk.”
    “Doesn’t that bother you?”
    “Of course it does, but that’s the way the press is. They pay everybody and have sources everywhere, but what can I do about it? Listen, including the personnel in that van, Gerhard Miner is being guarded by over twenty-five of some of the meanest and most heavily armed members of the police and Swiss military. Whether you have noticed it or not, there has been a military helicopter shadowing us the entire time Miner has been outside the prison’s walls.”
    Scot had noticed the helicopter. He was impressed that Claudia had thought so far ahead, but he was still concerned.
    “There are additional men posted within the courtroom itself, throughout the building, and even in plain clothes outside among members of the press. Now, Agent Harvath, how would you rate my security?”
    “So far I’d have to say you’ve been pretty thorough—”
    “It would take an army to get to Miner.”
    Scot knew she was wrong. It was dangerous to believe that you were fully prepared. If one person was determined to do harm at any cost, there really was nothing any organization could do to stop him or her. This was the fear the Secret Service lived with twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. Scot was about to share this with Claudia when her radio crackled to life with frantic shouts from one of the lead vehicles.
    “What’s going on?” Scot asked.
    “Some sort of accident,” she replied.
    “Accident? What kind of accident?”
    Claudia had already slammed on her brakes and was reversing full speed back toward where she had pulled off from the convoy. “I don’t know. Both motorcycle drivers are down. I can’t work the radio and drive backward at the same time.”
    Harvath was about to suggest they trade places when an enormous explosion tore through the warm morning air. The roiling thunder-ball of fire could be seen above the buildings to their right. The radio calls grew in intensity and added to the sounds of chaos throughout the neighborhood. Harvath could distinctly make out the whoomp whoomp whoomp of a heavy chopper coming in from above.
    Harvath grabbed hold of the wheel from Claudia and turned it hard to the left as he pulled up on the VW’s emergency brake. The car spun 180 degrees, gashing the sides of three parked cars. Claudia was too startled by Harvath’s move to speak. At least now they were headed forward and could make better time. Scot could apologize later. “Step on it,” he said.
    When they rounded the corner and came back down the street where they had left the convoy, it looked as if they had driven into a war zone. At least fifteen cars were burning out of control. Glass and flaming wreckage were scattered everywhere, and several shops and nearby buildings were also engulfed in flames.
    Claudia drove in as close as she could, and then she and Harvath jumped out of the car and began running. It was immediately evident that this had been no accident. A very large explosive device had been detonated right when the motorcade passed. Harvath saw Claudia draw her weapon.
    “How about me?” he asked.
    Without breaking stride, Claudia reached underneath her blazer, withdrew a short Walther P38K and tossed it to Harvath. She pressed her walkie-talkie against her mouth and began shouting orders.
    When she finally came up for air, she turned to Harvath and said, “One of the plainclothes men said he thinks the motorcycles were taken out by a sniper. When they went down, the convoy stopped and that’s when the explosion happened. I have the helicopter searching the area, and