Chapter 37 Thomas #2
“Let me be clear: Switzerland’s democratic institutions have held.
Our constitution remains unmolested. The mechanisms our founders put in place to protect against tyranny—whether from without or within—have proven their worth.
Today, the Federal Council rejected the call for emergency powers.
Today, the Federal Council chose democracy and freedom over fear. ”
I felt something unknot in my chest. Beside me, Will exhaled.
“To those who perpetrated these attacks, who sought to steal our nation while we slept: You have been exposed. You will be found. You will face justice. I am confident the international community will unite to find every last collaborator, and the full weight of Swiss law will be brought to bear, regardless of anyone’s position or rank. ”
A pause.
“My fellow citizens, I know the past day has been frightening. I know many of you woke this morning cold and uncertain. I shared your fear. I felt it in my own heart.” Another pause.
“But I also feel pride, pride in our institutions and pride in the men and women who worked through the night to uncover this plot. I am proud of Switzerland herself—a nation that has weathered wars, crises, and conspiracies, and emerged stronger each time.”
The Baroness opened her eyes.
They glistened in the firelight.
“The newspapers have published exhaustive reports this morning. The Federal Council will provide even more information in the coming days as our investigation proceeds. For now, I ask only this: Trust in Switzerland. Trust in each other. Trust in the values that have sustained us for seven hundred years. We are a small nation, but we are resilient. We have faced darkness before, and we have always found our way back to the light.”
His voice steadied.
“Switzerland stands. Switzerland endures. Switzerland will remain free—today, tomorrow, and for generations to come. Thank you.”
The radio crackled.
A different voice spoke—the announcer, slightly breathless.
“That was Federal Council President Josef Frei, speaking from the Federal Palace in Bern. We are continuing to receive information about this morning’s extraordinary developments.
Reports indicate that military units have secured key sites throughout Bern, and that the Neue Zürcher Zeitung’s exposé naming the conspirators has been confirmed by government sources.
We will bring you updates as they become available.
For now, we return to our regular programming. ”
Mozart drifted through the farmhouse again.
But this time, no one minded.
For a long moment, no one spoke.
Then Marcus let out a breath. “Holy shit.”
“It worked,” Danny said, wonder in his voice. “It actually worked.”
The CIA woman allowed herself a small smile. “Don’t sound so surprised. We’re professionals, and we’re fucking good.”
Marcus and Danny chuckled, as Danny said, “Fuckin’ right, we are.”
But I wasn’t listening to them anymore.
I was watching the Baroness.
She hadn’t moved.
She hadn’t spoken.
Her eyes were fixed on something far away again. Bisch still held her hand.
“Baroness,” I said quietly. When she didn’t respond, I added, “Isabella.”
Will startled beside me.
She blinked and came back from wherever she’d been.
“They are arrested,” she said. “Lüthi and Brenner.” She let out a breath. “It is truly over.”
“It’s over,” Will agreed.
Bisch released her hand and opened his arms. To my surprise, the Baroness allowed herself to be held, her face nesting against Bisch’s chest.
For a long moment, no one spoke.
Then the Baroness did something I was sure I would never witness.
She began to cry.
It wasn’t dramatic. There were no sobs or wails. Still, a slow trickle of tears slid silently down her cheeks before vanishing into the fabric of Bisch’s shirt.
The room emptied without anyone saying a word.
The Americans drifted toward the door, suddenly interested in checking the perimeter. Will stood, squeezing my hand once before slipping into the kitchen.
I stayed, unable to tear my eyes from the Baroness and Bisch.
“You don’t have to—” she started.
“I know.”
Her head rose from Bisch’s chest, and she looked at me—really looked for the first time since I’d been carried, half dead, into the farmhouse. Her eyes were red, her face drawn. The carefully maintained mask had finally cracked.
“I thought this would feel different,” she said, and I wondered if she spoke to me, Bisch—or simply to herself. “I thought when it was over—when they were stopped—I would feel . . .”
“Victorious?” Bisch offered.
“Something.” She shook her head slowly. “But I only feel tired . . . tired and old and—” Her voice broke.
“Otto and Weber are dead, among others. Aldric, who trusted me with everything, was murdered for what he knew. How many others died because of this? Because I wasn’t fast enough, wasn’t clever enough—”
“Baroness, you couldn’t have stopped all of it,” I said, struggling to my feet and crossing to stand beside them. I placed a hand on the Baroness’s arm and stroked with my thumb.
“Could I not?” The question was sharp, edged with something that might have been self-loathing.
“I spent the last three decades building my network. I had sources in every ministry, every canton, every institution. I still didn’t see this coming.
I didn’t see Engel or the Order rebuilding itself under my nose. I missed everything.”
“No one saw it,” Bisch said.
“That is not good enough.” She wiped her face with the back of her hand—an oddly graceless gesture from a woman who never did anything without precision. “It is not good enough that no one saw it. Someone should have. I should have.”
I didn’t have an answer for that.
Maybe there wasn’t one.
“Otto followed me,” she said quietly. “When they took me from the hotel. He followed the van into the mountains, alone, knowing he would probably die. Because I had saved him once, years ago, and he never forgot it.” Her voice caught.
She paused to still her quivering lips.
“He was the last of my circle from the old days,” she continued. “The last one who knew what we’d built, what we survived. Now he’s gone, and I am . . .” She stopped and sucked in a breath. “I am a foolish old woman who could not protect the people who trusted her.”
“You protected Switzerland,” I said.
She laughed without humor. “Did I? Or did you? You and Will risked everything while I sat in a cell being tortured for information I was too stubborn to give.” She met my eyes. “The photographs that saved us—you took them. The evidence from Sternberg AG—you retrieved it. The warehouse last night—”
“It was all a team effort,” I said.
“Don’t patronize me, Thomas.” But her voice had lost its edge. She looked too tired for anger. “I know what I contributed and what I did not. I know who did the real work.”
“The real work?” I leaned forward. “You built the network that gave us every lead. You identified the conspiracy when everyone else was looking the other way. You came to us when there was no one else you could trust. Hell, you survived torture without giving up a single name.” I held her gaze.
“And when we pulled you out of that fortress, half dead and beaten, you started planning the counter-operation before you could even walk.”
“That’s—”
“That is . . . nobility. It’s what true, selfless leadership looks like. You didn’t fail anyone, Isabella. You fought, you survived, and because you never stopped fighting, Switzerland is still free.”
She stared down at my hand on her arm. Her tears had stopped, but something vulnerable remained in her expression.
“I’m old, Thomas,” she said quietly. “I have been doing this work since I was younger than you are now. In all that time, I have never—” She stopped, then started again. “I have rarely known those I could truly rely on and trust completely, not until you and Will came into my life.”
“Isabella—”
“Let me finish.” She pulled free of Bisch and faced me.
“You asked me once why I trusted you. You asked why I came to Paris and dragged you into this instead of handling it through official channels.” She paused.
“The truth is I did not know at the time, not consciously. I only knew that if I was going to survive this—if Switzerland was going to survive—I needed people who would fight for something more than duty, more than country, more than the cold calculus of statecraft.”
“And that led you to us?” I nearly laughed.
“That is you.” A ghost of a smile crossed her face.
“Two Americans who fell in love in a war zone and somehow kept that love alive through all the ugliness that came after. Men who look at each other like the world begins and ends with the other person.” She shook her head.
“I never had that, not even with my husband. I never allowed myself to have it, if I am true to myself. I thought . . . I thought it would make me weak.”
“It doesn’t.”
“No,” she agreed. “It does not.” She stepped around Bisch and sat in her chair again.
The three of us stared into the flames before my mind wandered, and I broke the silence.
“We almost lost each other,” I said, thinking about Will and the look on his face when I woke in the bed, broken and bandaged, half frozen and barely conscious. Then I thought about the way he’d held me while I slept, as if afraid I might disappear. “More than once.”
“But you did not.” Her voice was steady now, the tears dried, the mask beginning to rebuild itself. “And in many ways, because of that, Switzerland still stands.”
The announcer chose that moment to interrupt the music again. He offered a brief report, then read a list of names, Order members being sought for questioning.
“They’re moving fast,” he said. “Frei’s not taking any chances.”
“He cannot afford to.” The Baroness rose from her chair, smoothing her dress. “The first hours are critical. If they do not root out the conspirators now, they will scatter and regroup. They will try again.”
“Will they?” I asked. “Try again?”
She was quiet for a moment.
“If not here in Switzerland, they will try elsewhere,” she said finally.
“We both know this was a Soviet gambit. Stalin does not take failure well. He will adapt and find some new way to create chaos where none exists.” She moved to the window, looking out at the winter landscape.
“And the Order still lives. The Shadow, whoever he may be, remains. Severan may still live. Even if we killed them both, others will rise to take their place. It is the way of such things. Somewhere out there, someone is already planning their next move.”
“So it’s not over,” I said, my gaze slipping.
“It is never over, Thomas.” She turned to face me.
“That is the first lesson of this work—or has your bird man failed to teach you that lesson?” There was humor in her voice, if a bit brittle and dry.
“There is no final victory, no moment when we can lie down our weapons and declare peace. There is only the next battle, and the one after that, and the one after that.”
“I take back everything I said about you being inspirational. You’re downright depressing,” I said.
She chuckled, and a bit of light returned to her eyes. “It is the truth, but today we should enjoy a beautiful victory.”
She crossed to the table and began gathering the scattered photographs, the maps, the evidence of everything we’d been through. “Bisch, these need to be given to President Frei, no one else. He will preserve them for the investigation—and for history.”
“Of course, Baroness,” he said, grabbing a large map off the table and beginning to fold it.
Something stilled her hands.
She turned, set the papers down, and crossed back into the living room to stand before me.
Then, to my surprise, she gripped my face in her hands, pulled my head down, and pressed a kiss to my forehead.
It was a gesture so maternal, so utterly unlike her usual demeanor, that I didn’t know how to react.
“Thank you, Thomas,” she said quietly. “For everything. For saving my country. For saving me.”
Before I could respond, she stepped back, and her mask slid back into place.
“Now,” she said briskly. “We have work to do. The American team needs debriefing, Manakin will want a full report, and I must contact what remains of my network. There will be questions, confusion, and people who need reassurance that the crisis has passed.”
“Isabella.” It was Bisch. He’d called her by her name.
She stopped at the door.
“You should rest,” he said. “You have been awake for—I do not even know how long. The work can wait.”
Something passed between them. Just when I was sure she would wave him off, she nodded and said, “Yes, I believe you are right.”
Without another word, she strode out of the kitchen, down the hall, and closed her bedroom door behind her.