The Lions of Lucerne

The Lions of Lucerne


“A hot read for a winter night…Bottom line: LIONS roars.”

People Magazine

“What a terrific book. You have captured the nuances and subtleties of Washington and its power structure in a most amazing manner. Hope you write many more with Scot as the main character.”

Bert Lance, Carter Administration Cabinet Member

“Thor… shows a gift for dramatic storytelling.”

Publishers Weekly

“THE LIONS OF LUCERNE has a depth of knowledge that many debut novels lack…. [It is] an action thriller finely spiced with politics and terrorism, a tinge of intrigue and the allure and mystique of a secretive international locale.”

Hilary Maynard, The UW Daily (University of Washington)

“Fast-paced, scarily authentic – I just couldn’t put it down.”

Vince Flynn

“…fast-paced,…fascinating plot, and a climax in the Swiss Alps that will give the reader a case of vertigo.”

Nelson DeMille

“For cliff-hanging escapism, this is it.”

The Sunday Oklahoman

“THE LIONS OF LUCERNE is a roaring tale.”

“Brad Thor’s debut thriller… rockets along from Utah, to Washington, D.C., to a climax in the Swiss Alps… a fast-paced and exciting novel.”

Minneapolis Star-Tribune

The Story

On the snow-covered slopes of Utah, the unthinkable has just become a nightmarish reality: thirty Secret Service agents have been viciously executed and the vacationing president of the United States is kidnapped by one of the most lethal terrorist organizations in the Middle East—the dreaded Fatah.

But one man, surviving agent and ex-Navy SEAL Scot Harvath, doesn’t believe the Fatah is responsible for the attack. Driven by his professional code of duty and honor—and a solemn vow to avenge his fallen comrades—Scot creates his own rules to get some answers. But his search for the truth raises the blood pressure of his superiors…and casts his own life in mortal jeopardy. The deadly machinations have been set in motion by a shadowy coalition, comprising some of the highest-ranking officials in government and business—men who operate above the law, men who realize the threat Scot poses to their hidden agenda…men who will do anything to stop him.

Now framed for murder and on the run, Scot goes for broke and takes his own brand of justice to the unlikeliest place of all—the towering mountains of Switzerland. It is there that he finds an improbable ally in the beautiful Claudia Mueller of the Swiss Federal Attorney’s Office. Together they must brave the subzero temperatures and sheer heights of treacherous Mount Pilatus—and enter the den of the most notorious team of professional killers the world has ever known.

Audio Sample

Chapter Excerpt

“Senators,” said Fawcett as he strode across the polished floor in his monogrammed Stubbs & Wooton opera slippers, “I’m so very pleased you could make it.”

The study was lined from floor to ceiling with beautiful leather bound books; most of them first editions. Velvet draperies were drawn tight against the windows, obscuring from view the frigid waters of Southern Wisconsin’s famed Lake Geneva. The industrialist’s eagerly awaited guests sat in two leather club chairs by the fire.

Senator Russell Rolander was the first to stand. “Donald, good to see you.” The Senator stuck out his beefy paw and pumped Fawcett’s hand. Rolander and Fawcett had been roommates together at the University of Illinois. The Senator had been a college football star and continued his notoriety through many years with the Chicago Bears before going into Illinois politics. Long known as one of Washington D.C.’s biggest power brokers, Rolander was a ranking member of the U.S. Senate, held a coveted position on the Appropriations Committee, and owned a weekend home down the road from Fawcett’s.

Slower to rise was New York Senator, David Snyder. Snyder shook Fawcett’s hand only after it had been offered. Described as a sneaky, little son-of-a-bitch by his adversaries, Snyder had scaled the rocky heights of the American political landscape by adhering to a simple mantra: do unto others before they do unto you. He was a master of dirty tricks, and there were few in Washington who had dared cross Snyder’s path. Those that had, hadn’t survived long politically. Snyder, a slight man of wiry build and soft features, was the mirror opposite of the large, rugged, blond-haired Rolander. However, what Senator David Snyder lacked in physical stature, he more than made up in brain power. That intelligence, coupled with a genius for strategy, had landed him an all but permanent spot on the Senate Intelligence Committee. There wasn’t a covert operation conducted in the last 7 years that didn’t somehow or other have Snyder’s fingerprints on it.

Fawcett, always the showman, picked up a remote from the inlaid Egyptian box upon his desk and pointed it at a wall of books to the right of the fireplace. The false wall slid back to reveal the entryway to a smaller room, about fifteen by fifteen feet. The white walls were decorated with rococo trim and were lined with more leather bound books. The entire space was permeated with the smell of honey. The wooden floor was covered by a large oriental rug. A small fireplace, trimmed in marble, stood in the southwest corner. It utilized the same chimney system as the fireplace in the large study, which helped keep this room a secret to outsiders. Several gilded mirrors hung upon the walls and reflected the room’s centerpiece, an enormous antique roll top desk. A plush couch, with handsomely carved legs, sat opposite the desk. Fawcett waved his guests into the adjoining room. Once all three were together, he tapped a button on his remote and the door slid shut behind them. With only minimal pressure from Fawcett’s fingertips, a set of faux book spines sprung forward from one of the bookshelves, revealing a set of crystal decanters.

“Brandy anyone?” said Fawcett as he removed a large snifter and a decanter filled with the amber colored liquor.

“I’ll take one,” replied Rolander.

“Scotch rocks, if you’ve got it,” said Snyder.

As Fawcett began pouring the drinks, he motioned for the men to take a seat on the couch. Rolander, very much at ease with himself, plopped right down onto the antique sofa. Snyder lingered, wandering around the small room for a few seconds pretending to admire the decor. The high-tech surveillance sweeper, disguised as a beeper on his hip, vibrated uncontrollably as he and Rolander were led down the long hallways of Fawcett’s palatial home towards the study. An adept student of security and surveillance systems, Snyder had noticed many of Fawcett’s obvious safety measures and had guessed at the ones he couldn’t see. No doubt Fawcett had the best money could buy. An extremely cautious man, Fawcett never left anything to chance. Snyder knew that much about him and that was one of the reasons he’d agreed to become this deeply involved.

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