Greg Iles - The Spandau Phoenix

"Up for a game, Friiulein?" the Englishman asked, tilting his cue

toward Ilse.

"It's Frau," Ilse corrected coldly. "And I'd prefer to return to my

room."

As Linah turned to lead her out, Ilse got the impression that the'Bantu

woman approved of her decision not to remain. But as she followed the

housekeeper out, she felt a light touch on her arm.

"Why not stay a moment?" whispered the Englishman. "It might do

wonders for your husband's health."

Ilse froze. Without even thinking, she told Linah that she'd changed

her mind. She would play one game before she retired.

The tall Bantu eyed the Englishman warily through the door. "I watch

for Madam in the hall," she said. "You come soon."

"Soon," Ilse promised, closing the door.

"What do you know about my husband?" she asked pointedly.

"Not so fast, Fraulein." The Englishman racked the balls for another

game. "Why don't you try being friendly? Since we're the only two

civilized people in this godforsaken place."

"What do you mean?"

"What do you think I mean? Couldn't ygu tell at dinner?

They're mad as hatters, both of them! I'm almost mad myself from

listening to them. I'm also the only chance you have of getting

yourself and your husband out of here alive.

Break."

Ilse took a cue from the wall, walked to the table and opened the game

by sinking the one and the five. She didn't know what to make of the

arrogant Englishman. She suspected this was a trick to extract

information from her, yet a voice deep inside her said to try to use

this man-to try anything that might help her escape.

"How did you come to be here?" she asked. "I assume you weren't

kidnapped, like me?"

The Englishman chuckled. "Not exactly.. But I wouldn't be averse to

leaving, I can tell you that. For some years now Herr Horn and I have

been involved in a very profitable business arrangement. Until recently

it's been mostly from a distance. Alfred knew my grandfather-William

Stanton, Lord Granville-before the war. I'm afraid my character runs a

bit differently than my grandfather's, though. My primary interest is

making money. Along with certain other distractions."

"Her-r Horn is not interested in money?"

"Not for its own sake, no. He's very political. Fancies himself a

bloody Messiah, if you want to know. He and my grandfather did

something big in England during the war, though neither of them ever

told me what. Alfred has some kind of political agenda that dictates

every move he makes.

All very hush-hush. And very silly, if you ask me."

"Does he ask you?"

The Englishman tried an extravagant bank shot and muffed it.

"No," he said, "he doesn't."

"Lord Granville," Ilse mused. "Is that a real title?"

"Yes, actually. I really am a lord. My name is Robert Stanton, Lord

Granville. Call me Robert, if you like."

"What about the other man?"

"The Afrikaner? Smuts? He's a commoner. A real bastard."

Stanton chuckled. "A real common bastard, that's him. He's Horn's

chief of security. I don't like him, but I stay clear of him, you know?

He'd like to cut my throat some dark night."

"Why doesn't he?"

"Alfred protects me. Or he has up till now, at any rate.

But my protector's patience wears thin Ilse pocketed the three, nine and

fifteen before missing the seven in the side pocket.

"Very nice, Frdulein." Stanton eyed Ilse's hips. "Yes, I'm getting the

feeling that dear Alfred's use for me is rapidly coming to an end. And

I don't fancy waiting for the axe to fall."

"Exactly what business are you and Herr Horn mT' Stanton sank the twelve

with a crack. "Import-export."

"IX what?"

"Drugs. And money, of course. Lots of pretty pounds."

"Pharmaceutical drugst' Stanton laughed. "The odd lot now and then. But

we generally handle drugs in their more elementary state.

Morphine base, poppies, ether, coca paste ...

"Narcotics are the basis of Herr Horn's empire?"

"No, no. He's ninety percent legitimate now. But our little joint

venture provides him with quite a bit of untraceable cash.

That's a valuable commodity in the business world, as you probably know,

rarer and rarer these days."

"I see."

"Don't think 'legitimate' carries any great moral weight, though.

Alfred brokers chemicals to Iraq for weapons, conventional arms to the

third world, nuclear and computer technology to half a dozen maniac

governments-it makes the narcotics business look like a bloody jumble

sale."

"So what exactly do you want from me?" Ilse asked warily.

Stanton stepped close to her. "I want to know what the old man's

planning," he@ whispered. "Something big is in the works, and I think

he's, going to let you io on it. The old bird's got the idea you're

some kind of avatar of Teutonic womanhood. He's mad about you."

"No," Ilse said quickly, fighting a strong feeling that Stanton's words

were true. "You're wrong."

"Spare me, Fraulein. I can see it."

Ilse moved to leave, but Stanton barred the door. "If you find out

anything," he said, "you come see me. I can help

you.

Ilse tried to pass, but Stanton remained in front of her. "If you

don't," he warned, "neither you nor your husband will get out of this

house alive, I guarantee it."

Ilse stopped trying to pass and looked into, Stanton's eyes.

"What do you mean?"

"Nothing at all, love. But you think about it. Do you really believe

that one-eyed madman brought you all the way here just to send you

smiling back to Germany? Five thousand bloody miles?"

Ilse shook her head in denial.

"Come on, Frdulein, you're no fool." Stanton caught Ilse's shoulders

and drew her tight against him. "I'll tell you something else for

free," he said heavily. "Alfred's got the right idea, but he's much too

old for you."

He pressed his mouth hard against hers. Ilse twisted her head away

roughly. "Let go of me! Let me go!"

Stanton groped for her breasts. Truly frightened now, Ilse caught his

arms and tried to push him away. Just as he got one hand free and

raised it to strike, someone flung open the door. Tall and menacing,

the Bantu housekeeper fixed her impenous gaze on the Englishman. "Time

for bed, Madam," she said in a dangerous voice.

"Yes-yes, thank you, Linah," Ilse stammered.

"Bloody wog," said Stanton. "You ought to keep out of where you're not

wanted. I'm going to talk to Master about YOU."

Her face unchanging, Linah pulled the door shut and led Ilse to her

bedroom.

"Thank you," Ilse said again.

Linah looked deep into her eyes. "Careful with the English, Madam," she

said in her deep voice. "He is spoilt, and does not understand 'no.'

Ilse listened hopefully as Linah shut the door, but the lock clicked

fast.

Back in the dining room, Alfr@ Horn addressed Smuts liked a general

briefing his adjutant before a battle.

"The airstrip extension?"

"One hundred feet to go, sir. They finished the southeast end at dusk.

It should set up fine by tomorrow night."

"Is the basement secure?"

"Tight as a Zulu drum."

"What about the conference room video cameras? We must have a record of

this meeting. Our fallback plan depends on it."

"All four cameras loaded and in position, sir."

"Any questions for me, Pieter?"

"What about the policeman in the basement? Lieutenant Luhr."

Horn's face hardened. "He's fine where he is until after the meeting."

"And the girl?"

"I'm quite taken with her, Pieter. I've asked her to sit in tomorrow