disputed that theory but now he prayed to God that it was not the case. Courage was a commodity he was going to need plenty of in the months to come.
CHAPTER 6
Zug, Switzerland
Gallagher piloted his rented Audi A4 through the quiet antiseptic streets of the small Swiss town of Zug. He had arrived at Zurich two hours previously using an Irish passport in the name of Daniel Ryan. After picking up his car, he had immediately headed south through the suburbs of Zurich until he left the City of Banks behind. He skirted Lake Zurich and climbed towards the canton of Zug, the smallest and the richest canton of the Swiss Federation. The town of Zug itself proved easy to navigate. The instructions Gallagher had been given were crystal clear and he left the tiny spotless town and headed in the direction of Lake Zug. It was a beautiful crisp clear day and the sun reflected strongly from the deep blue Alpine waters of the Lake as the road twisted along the shore. At exactly five kilometres from Zug on the clock of the car, the Google maps instructed him to turn left and he found himself on a paved road bearing the sign ‘PRIVAT’. This part of the operation was one that he couldn’t personally control yet it was the element that he knew would be calculated to throw the Saudis into total confusion. If the man he was on his way to see refused to play ball with him, the operation would be stalled until he could locate somebody who could provide a similar service. He drove slowly along the narrow road until he came to a pair of stout iron gates set into a two metre high stone wall. A speaker unit with a button was located on the wall at the left hand side of the gate. He turned into the depression created by the gate and pulled up opposite the speaker unit. He leaned out of the car and pressed the button.
‘Ja, wie ist da?’ A harsh voice came through the speaker.
‘Ich bin Herr Ryan,’ Gallagher said in fluent German. ‘Ich habe eine Begegnung mit Herrn Nielsen.’
‘Ja, Herr Ryan,’ the dissociated voice said. ‘Kommen sie sofort zuHause. Huten sie sich auf die Hunden.’
‘Danke,’ Gallagher said as he watched the iron gates begin to creak open. Peter Nielsen was a man who valued his privacy. And why shouldn’t he. Gallagher had checked Nielsen’s background as fully as he could but the man he was hoping to enlist was, like Gallagher, the kind of person who preferred that people should know as little as possible about either him or the kind of business he conducted. When the gates were wide enough to permit the Audi to squeeze through, Gallagher moved forward slowly. The car had only travelled twenty metres along the driveway when Gallagher became aware of the barking and two large Doberman Pinschers emerged from a stand of saplings to his left. Their brown-black coats glistened as they raced in his direction. They bounded along beside him as he made his way towards the collection of large chalets standing on the top of the hill directly in front of him. He glanced around and saw that Nielsen’s domain was totally enclosed by the stone wall. It covered an area of more than five acres. Since Switzerland boasted the highest land prices in Europe and within Switzerland Zug was the most expensive location, Gallagher’s information that Nielsen was one of Europe’s super-rich certainly appeared to be true. He arrived at the expansive chalet with the dogs still in tow. He brought the Audi to a stop on the gravel path before the front door.
As Gallagher switched off the ignition, the door opened and a man standing over six feet six and weighing more than three hundred pounds came onto the porch.
‘Hans, Susie, geht's,’ he shouted.
The two dogs whirled at the sound of his voice and began to sprint back towards the main gate.
The giant opened the driver’s door of the Audi. ‘It is okay now, Herr Ryan.’
‘Thanks,’ Gallagher got out of the car.
The giant smiled showing a scar that ran along his
CHAPTER 6
Zug, Switzerland
Gallagher piloted his rented Audi A4 through the quiet antiseptic streets of the small Swiss town of Zug. He had arrived at Zurich two hours previously using an Irish passport in the name of Daniel Ryan. After picking up his car, he had immediately headed south through the suburbs of Zurich until he left the City of Banks behind. He skirted Lake Zurich and climbed towards the canton of Zug, the smallest and the richest canton of the Swiss Federation. The town of Zug itself proved easy to navigate. The instructions Gallagher had been given were crystal clear and he left the tiny spotless town and headed in the direction of Lake Zug. It was a beautiful crisp clear day and the sun reflected strongly from the deep blue Alpine waters of the Lake as the road twisted along the shore. At exactly five kilometres from Zug on the clock of the car, the Google maps instructed him to turn left and he found himself on a paved road bearing the sign ‘PRIVAT’. This part of the operation was one that he couldn’t personally control yet it was the element that he knew would be calculated to throw the Saudis into total confusion. If the man he was on his way to see refused to play ball with him, the operation would be stalled until he could locate somebody who could provide a similar service. He drove slowly along the narrow road until he came to a pair of stout iron gates set into a two metre high stone wall. A speaker unit with a button was located on the wall at the left hand side of the gate. He turned into the depression created by the gate and pulled up opposite the speaker unit. He leaned out of the car and pressed the button.
‘Ja, wie ist da?’ A harsh voice came through the speaker.
‘Ich bin Herr Ryan,’ Gallagher said in fluent German. ‘Ich habe eine Begegnung mit Herrn Nielsen.’
‘Ja, Herr Ryan,’ the dissociated voice said. ‘Kommen sie sofort zuHause. Huten sie sich auf die Hunden.’
‘Danke,’ Gallagher said as he watched the iron gates begin to creak open. Peter Nielsen was a man who valued his privacy. And why shouldn’t he. Gallagher had checked Nielsen’s background as fully as he could but the man he was hoping to enlist was, like Gallagher, the kind of person who preferred that people should know as little as possible about either him or the kind of business he conducted. When the gates were wide enough to permit the Audi to squeeze through, Gallagher moved forward slowly. The car had only travelled twenty metres along the driveway when Gallagher became aware of the barking and two large Doberman Pinschers emerged from a stand of saplings to his left. Their brown-black coats glistened as they raced in his direction. They bounded along beside him as he made his way towards the collection of large chalets standing on the top of the hill directly in front of him. He glanced around and saw that Nielsen’s domain was totally enclosed by the stone wall. It covered an area of more than five acres. Since Switzerland boasted the highest land prices in Europe and within Switzerland Zug was the most expensive location, Gallagher’s information that Nielsen was one of Europe’s super-rich certainly appeared to be true. He arrived at the expansive chalet with the dogs still in tow. He brought the Audi to a stop on the gravel path before the front door.
As Gallagher switched off the ignition, the door opened and a man standing over six feet six and weighing more than three hundred pounds came onto the porch.
‘Hans, Susie, geht's,’ he shouted.
The two dogs whirled at the sound of his voice and began to sprint back towards the main gate.
The giant opened the driver’s door of the Audi. ‘It is okay now, Herr Ryan.’
‘Thanks,’ Gallagher got out of the car.
The giant smiled showing a scar that ran along his
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