“This is outrageous!” Brenner’s voice had gone shrill. “Accusations without evidence—innuendo and slander—”
“I said documentary evidence, Councilor. He claims to possess bank records, correspondence, and photographs.” Huber’s gaze swept the table. “Would you like to see them?”
“This is a distraction!” Lüthi slammed his palm against the table, abandoning any pretense of measured calm. “It is a pathetic attempt to derail these proceedings while our nation burns! We are wasting precious time on conspiracy theories while—”
“Conspiracy?” Anna Keller’s voice cut through the noise like a blade. “An interesting choice of words, Councilor Lüthi.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“It means that I, too, received a telephone call in the middle of the night. However, mine came from a different source, though she told a very similar story. How many of us, I wonder, were warned about what was coming?”
Markus Steiner raised his hand slowly. “I was contacted as well, by a respected intelligence official. She said . . .” He trailed off, looking at Lüthi with something like dawning horror. “She said the emergency session was a trap.”
Lüthi’s face turned the color of old parchment.
“Thisis absurd,” he said, but his voice had lost its authority. “You are all being manipulated. Can you not see? Someone is feeding you lies to prevent us from taking necessary action—”
“Necessary for whom?” Weber demanded. He had moved around the table, positioning himself between Lüthi and the door. Old instincts, perhaps, or new suspicions. “Necessary for Switzerland? Or necessary for you?”
“How dare you.” Lüthi rose to his feet, drawing himself up to his full height. “I have served this country for decades. I have sacrificed everything for Switzerland. Now you accuse me of betraying my homeland based on anonymous telephone calls and unsubstantiated rumors—”
“Not anonymous.” President Frei spoke for the first time since the debate began. His voice was quiet, but it silenced the room. “And not unsubstantiated.”
He reached into his jacket and withdrew a folded newspaper.
“This is the morning edition of theNeue Zürcher Zeitung,” he said. “It was delivered to my office thirty minutes before the start of this meeting.”
He unfolded it and laid it flat on the table.
The headline screamed in bold black type:
SOVIET-BACKED CONSPIRACY TO OVERTHROW SWISS GOVERNMENT
Federal Councilors Named in Bribery Scandal
For a long moment,no one moved.
Then Lüthi lunged for the newspaper.
Weber caught his arm, wrenching him back with a soldier’s efficiency. “I do not think so, Rudolf.”
“Let go of me! This is—this is fabrication! Lies!” Lüthi struggled against Weber’s grip, his composure completely shattered. “You cannot believe this—you cannot—”
“I have already read it, as most of the world likely has by now. The same information was sent to the press in many countries,” Frei said. His voice was hollow, the voice of a man watching something he loved die before his eyes. “I have read the article. I have seen the evidence. The photographs are most . . . informative.” He looked at Lüthi with an expression that mixed grief with disgust. “Three million Swiss francs, Rudolf? FromSovietintelligence? And you have the audacity to propose emergency powers?”
“The photographs are fabricated—”
“They show your man von Eschenbach last night smoking a cigarette. It is a very clear image. He is pictured outside the warehouse where the whole operation was staged.” Frei’s hands were trembling, but his voice held steady. “Were you going to tell us, Rudolf? When you had your emergency powers and your rule by decree, were you going to tell us who was really giving orders? Who our new masters were?”
Lüthistopped struggling.
Something shifted in his face.
The mask of the statesman fell away, revealing something harder and colder beneath.
“You understand nothing,” he said quietly. “None of you. Switzerland is dying. It is rotting from within. The communists, the socialists, the weakness that has infected every institution—someone had to act. Someone had to have the courage to do what was necessary.”
“Necessary?” Anna Keller’s voice dripped contempt. “You sold us to Moscow and call it courage?”
