Greg Iles - The Spandau Phoenix

and age the British would kill over the reputation of the royal family.

it's tarnished enough already."

"If Windsor were merely the tip of an iceberg," Natterman mused, "they

might. Many historians believe that Lord Halifax, the British foreign

secretary during the war, and possibly as many as forty ranking members

of Parliament continued to try to make a deal with Hitler long after

Churchill declared: 'We shall never surrender!' I doubt if the most

revered families in England would care to have their names linked to

Adolf Hitler after all these years. And no Englishman in his right mind

wants Churchill's 'their finest hour' myth stained. Think about it,

Stern. Neville Chamberlain is excoriated today, and he was merely an

appeaser.

Men who sought to accommodate Hitler after the Battle of Britain would

be branded collaborators." Natterman looked thoughtful. "You know, I'd

be surprised if some of those noble English family trees haven't spread

quite a few branches into South Africa."

"Branches," Stern muttered. "It's roots I'm interested in, Professor.

And not the roots of the past, either. I mean the roots of conspiracy

in the present. The here and now. That's where the threat to Israel

is."

Natterman's eyelids lowered in meditation. "I don't know about any

threat to Israel," he said, "but I think I've earned some information,

Stern."

The Israeli shook his head slowly. "Professor, what you have told me

thus far is available in libraries. I want your analysis. Amaze me

with the fruits of your years of scholarship!"

Natterman looked up at Stern, his lips pale with anger. "If you know so

much, why don't you finish this conversation alone?"

When Stern didn't respond, Natterman said, "All right, I'll give you

something. But you'd better be prepared to pay me back in kind."

"Ask and it shall be given, Professor."

"That's the New Testament, Stern."

"You were saying?"

Natterman actually blushed as he whispered his next words. "What I am

about to tell you, Stern, I learned by ...

by rather dubious means."

Stern's eyes flickered interest.

"As I told you, several historians are currently working on the Hess

mystery. Two of them are at Oxford University.

You may not know this, Stern, but history is a very competitive field.

In the top rank anyway. And it pays to know all you can about your

competition."

"Are you telling me that you have your own spies, Professor?"

A

SPANDAU PHOENIX Natterman averted his eyes. "I prefer to call them 'g4

friends.' The Israeli chuckled. "Naturally."

"One of these friends," said Natterman, "managed to get a very close

look at the Hess research going on at Oxford.

It seems that there's a very mysterious fellow who figures in the Hess

case. A heretofore unheard of fellow, who seems to have done some

particularly nasty mischief on the night of May tenth 1941. In the

Oxford draft papers he is referred to as Helmut, but@' "Another German

in England on "Helmut?" Stern sat uP.

that night?" Natterman smiled cagily. "The Oxford draft research

indicates that. However, I belive that 'Helmut' is simply a code

name-a, device that the Oxford historians are using to mask this

person's real identity. Never in my own research have I found anyone

named Helmut associated with the Hess case in any way."

"You're not telling me you think 'Helmut' is a code name for the real

Hess?"

Natterman smiled triumphantly. "In the Oxford papers 'Helmut' is

referred to as having had one particularly distinguishing

characteristic, Stern. I think it will interest YOU."

"Well?"

"He had only one eye."

Stern looked surprised, then thoughtful. "That might tie in with our

tattoo," he allowed. "But I shouldn't think you'd be too happy about

it, since Rudolf Hess had two perfectly good eyes."

Natterman raised a long forefinger. "He did as of May tenth 1941.

But if Hess survived that night-as I believe he did-he had plenty of

time left to lose an eye. He might even have lost it on the very night

of his flight!"

"You should be writing movies, Professor. Do you know how many men lost

eyes in the Second world War? Do you plan to scour all Africa for a

one-eyed man, in the hope he will lead you to your fantasy Nazi?"

"We'll see how fanciful I am," Natterman muttered.

"Why couldn't there have been a German named Helmut in England on that

night in May?" asked Stern.

"There could have been," Natterman admitted. "But there wasn't.

So-have I earned your half of the story?"

"Yes, Professor, I think you have. Just one more question, though. Were

there any Russians involved in the Hess case, as far as you know?"

"Russians?" Natterman was silent. "In Hess's original mission?

None that I know of. But I'll certainly think about it."

"Please do that. And please remember our deal when we get on the

ground. No fairy stories about Rudolf Hess in front of anyone. Talk

like that can make some Jews very upset."

Natterman nodded solemnly.

"Attention ladies and gentlemen, " demanded the loudspeaker.

"Please take your seats. We have been cleared for approach to

Ben-Gurion Airport."

A collective sigh of relief went up throughout the plane.

Stern chuckled and touched Natterman's sleeve. "I'm afraid my

contribution to this epic will have to wait for the second leg of our

journey."

Natterman studied the Israeli's tanned, angular face. "You said

information was the first reason you brought me with you, Stern. What

was the secondt' Stern looked away from the professor. When he looked

back, his eyes were dark and hara. "Phoenix kidnapped your

granddaughter, Professor. You are her closest blood relative.

That makes you my direct line into Phoenix. I'm not sure how yet, but I

think you might just be my best weapon against them."

Natterman leaned thoughtfully back in his seat as the pilot stretched

his holding pattern into a smooth approach and made a flawless landing

on the main runway. A security gate with metal-detection and X-ray

equipment awaited the deplaning passengers at the end of a long passage,

but when Stern presented his wallet to the senior security officer, he

and Natterman were waved throup-h.

"That's no small trick in this @o-untry," Natterman said.

"Is it, Stern? What exactly did you do for a living before you

retired?"

Stern didn't answer. He was searching the concourse for something or

someone he apparently expected to find waiting.

"You must be with the Mossad," Natterman guessed.

"That's it, isn't it?"

Stern kept watching the crowd. "I go back a lot further than the

Mossad, Professor. You should know that."

"Yes, but it's something similar, I'll bet. Something c unsavory."

"Gadi!" Stern cried.

Suddenly the Israeli was moving across the concourse at great speed, not

running, but taking long strides that seemed to swallow distance

effortlessly. Natterman tried to pick out Stern's objective but

couldn't, until he reappeared out of the milling crowd with one arm

draped affectionately around a dark young man of about twenty-five.

"Professor Natterman," Stern said, "meet Gadi Abrams, my great-nephew."

"My pleasure, Herr professor," said the young man graciously, extending

a sun-browned hand.

"Guten Abend, " said Natterman, turning to Stern. "Is this one of the

'packages' we stopped to pick up?"

,Yes, Professor, one of three."

Two smiling young men appeared from behind Gadi Abrams. They extended