Greg Iles - The Spandau Phoenix

ear. "Remember what we talked about on the plane, Jonas? About the man

with one eye? About Hess-" Stern gently but firmly shoved Natterman

away. Naked to the waist, he handed his pistol to Gadi, then turned to

Hauer and smiled.

"Sorry, Captain," he said. "You're just too young for the job."

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

337 Pm. Van der Wan Straat, Pretoria Yuri Borodin wiped his neck and

forehead with a silk handkerchief.

It was beastly hot in the van, with the oppressive closeness of

impending rain, and it stank. The van's engine was not running, so

there was no air conditioning. Borodin looked up. Five fleshy faces

stared dumbly back at him. Gorilles. That's what Borodin called them.

Embassy gorillas.

They were the KGB muscle available at every Russian embassy in the

world, and everywhere in the world they looked the same. Off-the-rack

suits, pomaded hair, big faces, big fists, and most of them smelled.

Of course there were no Russian embassies in South Africa, but there was

an illegal residency in Johannesburg. And the gorillas from the

residency had the same aroma, a cloying mix of body odor and aftershave.

"Crack a window," said Borodin.

The driver did.

"Gentlemen, Captain Dieter Hauer is in the hotel on my right, the Protea

Hof. With him are some scruffy fellows who look suspiciously like

Jews." Borodin clucked his tongue. "Germans and Jews ... an often

explosive combination."

One of the gorillas chuckled appreciatively. Ah, Borodin thought, a

rudimentary sense of humor "Across the street in the Stanley House," he

went on, "we have our restless Germqn Kripo detective. He's big, but he

shouldn't be much trouble. Two of you should be enough for him.

When he's dead, leave his ID but take his money." Borodin took a

Heckler and Koch MP-5 submachine gun from a leather attache case. "The

rest of us will take room 604." He singled out the leanest of the

gorillas. "You know the window?"

The lean man lifted a Dragunov sniper rifle from his lap and zipped it

into a soft case. "Sixth floor," he said, "third window from the left."

Borodin screwed a long silencer onto the muzzle of his MP-5.

"Let's go."

3.-42 Pm. Room 604: The Protea Hof Hotel, Pretoria

Jonas Stern would have verbally crucified Gadi and his men for their

laxness, but had they not been so attuned to Stern's absence, they might

have defended themselves better. When the telephone rang, everyone

turned toward it thinking it was Stern. Hauer turned from the window,

Natterman from one of the beds, Yosef from the space between the other

bed and the bathroom wall, and most importantly, Aaron from the foyer.

No one heard the key gurning soffly in the door.

Closest to the phone, Gadi Ah@ams snatched it up and said, "Hello?

Hello? Uncle Jonas?"

In that instant of shared bewilderment, a rifle slug shattered the hotel

room window, missing Hauer by a centimeter.

Everyone whirled toward the crashing sound. A half second later one of

Borodin's gorillas charged through the foyer and bowled Aaron Haber over

like a child. Hauer looked wildly. His Walther lay on the bed six feet

away. He started to dive for it; then thii second gorilla came through

the door with his pistol aimed at Hauer's chest. Standing open mouthed

with the telephone to his ear, Gadi Abrar also was trapped in the

newcomer's line of fire.

Only Yosef Shamir moved to counterattack, Yosef who died. He had been

toying with Hans's crossbow in the narrow slot between the bed and the

bath when the Russians burst in. With lightning speed he dropped the

bow, drew his silenced .22 and fired three shots in rapid succession as

the second gorilla emerged from the foyer and barreled past him.

All three bullets embedded themselves high in the Russian's broad back.

He went down on top of his compadre who was wrestling with Aaron on the

floor. The .22 caliber slugs only slowed the Russian giant, but that

slowness saved his life. As Yosef stepped forward to finish him off,

Yuri Borodin somersaulted through the foyer and shot the young Israeli

through the throat.

By the time Gadi got his hand on Hauer's Walther, Borodin was covering

the entire room. Faced with the deadly MP-5 submachine gun, Hauer,

Gadi, and Aaron realized the futility of further resistance.

They slowly raised their hands, their eyes locked on Yosef's convulsing

body.

It took the young commando forty seconds to die, and no one spoke while

he did it. They had all seen death be@ -ore, and knowing that no help

would be called sed a solemn silence on both attackers and hostages.

Professor Natterman was the first to make a sound, chattering "Why?

Why?" to everyone and no one at the same time.

@"You," said Borodin, pointing his weapon at Hauer. Close the- drapes."

Hauer didn't move.

Borodin checked his watch. "Close the drapes within five seconds or you

will be shot by my sniper. Everyone against the window."

Hauer obeyed. Gadi and Aaron backed against the closed drapes and stood

beside Hauer. The gorilla that Yosef had shot was straining without

success to reach the wounds on his back, and moaning like a dying ox.

Borodin ordered the .. gorilla to take him into the bathroom and see to

the wounds; then he casually seated himself on the bed nearest Hauer.

Natterman sat gibbering on the bed opposite , but the immaculately

dressed Russian took no notice-took out a cigarette and lit it with

great deliberation.

"Gentlemen,"'he said in English, "I have come for the papers found at

Spandau Prison. Which one of you has them?" "None of us," Hauer

replied in the same language.

in took a drag from his cigarette. He had noticed the accent.

"You are Captain Hauer, I take it?"

Hauer nodded- "Who are you?"

Borodin smiled, revealing a dazzling set o . f Swiss dental :"Once

again, Captain, which of you has the papers?" "How did you find us?"

Gadi asked, stalling.

Borodin laughed softly. "A fat Kripo detective named Schneider lead me

right to you. I assume he's a friend of yours."

Yes darkened in confusion.

Borodin smiled. "Of course the detective is dead now, Captain.

As you will be if you don't give up the papers."

"I told you before, we don't have them."

Borodin's smile stretched to a grimace. He called one of the gorillas

back from the bathroom and barked several phrases at him in rapid

Russian. Of the captives, only Aaron Haber-the son of a Lithuanian

Jew-understood the exchange, but the color draining from his face told

the others all they needed to know. The big Russian jerked Aaron away

from the curtained window and kicked his legs out from under him. When

the young Israeli tried to rise, the Russian locked a thick forearm

around his neck and pressed the barrel of a silenced Browning 9mm pistol

into his ear.

"The foreplay is over, gentlemen," Borodin said. His voice had not

risen a single decibel, yet it had lost all trace of humanity.

Everyone in the room knew that the Russian would not hesitate to order

Aaron's execution. Yet the young commando made no sound. He left his

fate entirely in the hands of Gadi Abrams, who had been designated

senior officer by Stern just before he left to rendezvous with the

kidmappers.

"At the risk of sounding melodramatic," Borodin went on, "I'm going to

count to five. If I do not have the Spandau papers when I reach that

number, my loyal assistant will transform this young man's brain into