Greg Iles - The Spandau Phoenix

the old man's eyes moved. The other remained fixed in whatever

direction Horn's head faced. As she stared, she noticed faint scarring

around the eye, stippled skin shaped in a rough five-pointed star.

With a chill she forced herself to look away, but not before Horn caught

her staring. He smiled understandingly.

"An old battle wound," he explained.

Lord Granville forked a huge slab of ham onto his plate.

"And what does a beautiful woman like you do in the Rhineland?"

he asked, grinning.

"I believe the young lady works for a brokerage firm," Horn INTERJECTED.

Suddenly the double doors behind Horn bumped open. A young black man

entered with a wheeled cart and took away the used dishes. A servant

girl followed with another cart that bore an antique Russian samovar

filled with steaming tea. She poured a brimming cup for Horn; Smuts,

Granville, and Ilse declined.

"I suppose you're wondering exactly where you are," Horn said.

"You are now in the Republic of South Africa, and unless you neither

watch television nor read the newspapers, I'm sure you know where that

is."

Ilse clutched the tablecloth as her stomach rolled. "As a matter of

fact," she said hoarsely, "my company maintained close ties with a

South- African FIRM before we ceased speculation in the Rand."

"You know something about our country, then?" Smuts asked.

"A little. What one sees on the news paints a pretty bleak picture."

"For some," Smuts said. "Not half as bad as they make out, though."

"I think what Pieter means," Horn said smoothly, "is that ... racial

problems in any society are always more complex than they appear to an

outsider. Look at the Asian question the White Russians must soon face.

In twenty years the Soviet Union will be over forty percent Islam. Think

of it! Look at America. For all their bluster about equality, the

Americans have seen abuses as bad as those anywhere. In South Africa,

Frau Apfel, prejudice does not wear a mask.

And no one will forgive us for that. Because South Africa admits

something that the rest of the world would prefer to hide, the world

hates us."

"Do you think that's an excuse?"

"We're not looking for excuses," Smuts muttered.

"Simply an observation," Horn said, glaring at Smuts.

"Isn't this bloody marvelous," Lord Granville crowed.

"Two Germans and a bloody Afrikaner debating the finer points of race

relations! It's really too much." He poured himself a second brandy

from a bottle he had claimed as his own.

"You think England's any better?'-, Smuts snapped. "All you've ever

seen of it is public schools and polo fields, you@' "Pieter," Horn cut

in. He turned to Ilse. "Herr Smuts is what the Americans call a

self-made man, my dear. He views the aristocracy as something of an

obsolete class."

"That's one view I sympathize with."

The Afrikaner inclined his head respectfully, his smoking gaze still on

the Englishman.

"Actually," said Horn, "even the South Africans shrink from truly

effective measures in the race question."

"Effective measures?"

"State-sponsored sterilization, my dear. It's the only answer.

We can't expect kaffirs or Mohammedan savages to regulate their own.

breeding habits. One might as well expect the same of cattle.

No, the government health services should simply sterilize each black

female after the birth of her first child. An entire spectrum of

problems would disappear within a single generation."

While Ilse stared in astonishment; Horn signaled to the stone-faced

Linah, who brought him a thick Upmann cigar, clipped and ready to light.

He did so without asking if anyone minded, took several puffs, then

exhaled the smoke in deep blue clouds that wafted gently above the

table.

"Well," he said finally, "I'm sure you have many questions. I'll try to

answer what I can."

Ilse had not even touched her salad. Now she set her quivering hands

flat on the table and took a deep breath. "Why am I here?" she asked

softly.

"Quite simply," Horn replied, "because of your husband.

I'm afraid your Hans stumbled upon a document that belonged to a man I

knew well-a document he should have turned over to the proper

authorities, but did not. Pieter decided that the most expeditious

method of recovering the property was through you. That is why you are

here. As soon as your husband arrives, the matter will be resolved."

Ilse felt a flutter of hope. "Hans is coming here?"

Horn glanced at his watch. "He should be on his way now."

"Does he know I'm safe?"

Smuts answered. "He heard the tape you made."

Ilse shivered, recalling the gun held to her head by the wild-eyed

Lieutenant Luhr.

Horn blew a smoke ring. "I assure you that such unpleasantness will not

be repeated. The man who drugged you on the plane is now in a cell a

hundred meters beneath your feet." Horn smiled. "Now, if I may, I'd

like to ask your opinion of the document your husband discovered in

Spandau Prison."

Ilse studied her hands. "What about it? It looked like a hoax to me.

Things like that have come up a dozen times since the war@' "Please,"

Horn interrupted, his tone harder, "do not try my patience.

Your discussion with Prefect Funk indicated that you well understood the

importance of the papers."

"I only thought that they might be dangerous! I knew that because Hans

found them in Spandau they'd probably been written by a war criminal.

Because of that-"

"Excuse me, Frau Apfel." Horn's gingle eye settled on Ilse's face. "How

would you define that term-war criminal?

I'm curious."

Ilse swallowed. "Well ... I suppose it means someone who has departed

from the laws of morality so radically that it shocks the civilized

world, even in time of war."

Horn smiled sadly. "Very articulate, my dear, but completely incorrect.

A war criminal is merely a powerful man on the side that Was Caesar a

war criminal? By your definition, By mine? No. Was Alexander? Was

Stalin? In 1944, arshal Zhukov's Red Army raped, murdered, and looted

its way across Germany. Was Zhukov a war criminal? No. But Hitler? Of

course! The Anti-Christ! You see?

The label means nothing in absolute terms. It's simply a relative

description."

"That's not true. What the Nazis did in the concentration camps-"

"Maintained the German war economy and furthered medical science for the

entire world!" Horn finished. "Of course there were excesses-that's

human nature. But does anyone ever mention the advances that were

made?"

"You don't believe that. Nothing justifies such cruelty."

Horn shook his head. "I can see that the Zionists have kept a firm grip

on our country's schools since the war. DeNazification," he snorted.

"My God, you sound just like an Israeli schoolchild. Can you be so

blind? In 1945 the Allied Air Forces attacked Dresden-an open city-and

killed 135,000 German civilians, mostly women and children.

President Truman obliterated two Japanese cities. That is not

criminal?"

"Then why is hiding the Spandau diary so important to you?" Ilse

challenged. "Why not let it be known and publicly argue your case,

whatever it is?"

Horn looked at the table. "Because some chapters of history are best

left closed. The case of Rudolf Hess has had a startling long-lived

effect on relations between England, Germany, and Russia.

It's in the best interest of all concerned to let sleeping dogs lie."

"But that's what I don't understand. What does it matter what happened