Greg Iles - The Spandau Phoenix

pillows to max the flow of blood to his brain.

Hauer stood up and gave his full attention to Schneider.

"What's your story, Detective?"

Schneider produced a handkerchief and wiped some blood from his face.

"I've come here to help you, Captain. You are in a great deal of

trouble in Berlin. Both you and Sergeant Apfel are wanted for murder

there."

"I'm no murderer," Hauer said gruffly.

"I didn't say you were. I know all about the Spandau papers, Captain. I

know about Phoenix. I'm working with the Americans, with Colonel Rose

of the U.S. Army. That's how I traced you."

"I suppose you want the Spandau papers?"

Schneider shrugged. "Only if they can help to crush Phoenix."

Hauer digested this slowly. "Why did you kill that Russian?"

"He killed an American intelligence officer named Richardson.

Richardson was the man who discovered that Phoenix extends into East

Germany as well as West Berlin."

"I've known that for months."

"Then why didn't you report it?"

Hauer snorted. "Report it? Phoenix has men in the police department,

the BND, the West Berlin Senate, the federal - government in Bonn, and

all the states. If I'd reported what I knew to the wrong person, you

and your Kripo friends would have been visiting me at the morgue twelve

hours later."

Schneider nodded slowly. "The Americans can help you, Captain.

Colonel Rose will help."

"You said this Russian here already killed one American officer.

That kind of help I don't need." Hauer studied the big German.

"Why do you think I should trust you?"

"Because I saved your life."

Hauer shrugged. "Anyone from Phoenix would have killed those Russians

just as quickly as. you did. They can't afford to let the Russians

know what Phoenix truly exists for. Not yet."

Schneider met Hauer's eyes. "Come back with me to Berlin, Captain. Help

us root out Funk and his men. Colonel Rose would like nothing better

than to order an assault on Abschnitt 53. But his hands are tied. His

superiors are holding him back because of the Hess business, and he

doesn't.

have nearly enough evidence against Prefect Funk. You could provide

that evidence, Captain. You must trust me.

"I want the same thing you do-to clean those scum out of Berlin."

Schneider turned his broad hands upward. "I know you don't know me, but

you must have known my father.

Max Schneider. He was a Kripo investigator too. Big like me.

Hauer searched Schneider's face for a full minute. Two rivulets of

blood trickled down from the sweatband of Schneider's hat. Behind

Schneider, Gadi was moving the dead Russians into the bathroom, while

Aaron worked on the professor. The professor's revelation that he had

made a copy of the Spandau papers pulsed in the back of Hauer's brain

like a second heartbeat. The situation had changed.

Profoundly. A copy of the Spandau papers, combined with the evidence he

and Steuben had already compiled, meant that direct action in Berlin

might now be possible. Things were moving too quickly here in South

Africa. Hans's betrayal, Stern's sudden appearance, the Russian

assault, Schneider's unexpected rescue. Schneider ...

"Your father wore a hat like yours," Hauer said absently.

"You did know him," said Schneider.

Hauer turned and stared pensively out the window. "You say you're

working with the Americans?", "Yes. Colonel Godfrey Rose, of Military

Intelligence."

"Can you get him on the phone?"

'Yes.

"Do it."

4.00 P.M. The Voortrokker Monument, Pretoria

After forty-five minutes of lying blindfolded in the backseat of the

speeding Range Rover, Jonas Stern had lost all sense of direction.

The Zulu driver who had met him at the Voortrekker Monument drove with

the windowsdown, and Stern could smell rain on the wind. He had peeked

around his blindfold once, and it seemed to him that night had fallen

early. In fact the darkness was caused by the thick ceiling of storm

clouds Hans had earlier seen rolling in from the north. It was part of

a front that had blown in from the Indian Ocean; it stretched southward

from the Mozambique border almost to PretoriaStern tensed as the Range

Rover swerved onto a rocky shoulder and shuddered to a stop.

He heard the driver's door open and close. Stern pulled off the

blindfold and looked around. Down the highway, he saw a small speck of

light. It shone from the direction they had come. Yet as he tried to

focus on the yellow glimmer, it winked out. The Zulu driver turned to

Stern, the whites of his eyes flashing angrily. He jabbed a finger

toward the blindfold. Pulling the black scarf back around his eyes,

Stern heard@r thought he heard-the sound of an automobile engine in the

distance.

The Zulu clambered back into the Range Rover and screeched onto the

highway, accelerating to a ridiculous speed. He raced on that way for

three or four minutes; then he geared down and turned off the highway

again. When the Rover finally stopped, he leaped out and ran away.

Stern moved the blindfold enough to see his surroundings.

The Rover had stopped at some type of roadside park. A knot of brightly

dressed Africans lounged around the single building. Several held

liquor bottles in their hands. Their focus seemed to be a public

telephone mounted on a wall. One of their number was talking into it.

Stern watched as his Zulu driver approached the men. Rather than slow

down, the Zulu swiped the air with a broad sweep of his arm. The

tribesmen scattered like frightened children. They knew the Zulu, Stern

thought.

The Zulu shouted into the telephone for a minute or so, bobbing his head

up and down like a bird. Abruptly he ceased this motion and looked back

down the highway. Stern followed his gaze. The light was there again,

but larger now-and it was no longer one light, but two.

Hauer Stern thought suddenly. Damn him!

As the Zulu came running back to the Rover, Stern stiffened, fearing the

bullet that had been promised if anyone followed the pickup vehicle.

None came. The driver's door slammed shut; then the Rover roared out of

the park and accelerated to 150 kilometers per hour.

Over the edge of his blindfold Stern saw the Zulu checking his rearview

mirror every few seconds. So Hauer's still there, he thought.

How the hell did he get past Gadi?

The engine screamed as the Zulu pushed the Rover to a frightening speed.

Stern wondered if the driver really expected to shake Hauer by this

simple tactic. On a paved highway Hauer's rented Ford could overtake

the Range Rover without much trouble.

Suddenly the Zulu savagely twisted the wheel, dirow the Rover into a

two-wheeled skid that hurled it down a shallow slope onto the hard,

rolling veld. The vehicle decelerated rapidly, but the torturous

terrain more than made up for the reduction in speed. No conventional

automobile could catch them now. Stern tried to keep his head from

slamming into the roof as the Rover vaulted humps, leaped ditches.

When the Rover finally shuddered to a halt, Stern collapsed against the

door and tried to catch his breath.

The Zulu wrenched the door open, jerked Stern out and I ripped off the

blindfold. On all sides Stern saw the seemingly limitless veld, lit by

an eerie blue light filtering through the storm clouds above. The first

heavy drops of African rain smacked against the roof of the Rover. Then

the clouds opened with a crash. Following the Zulu's line of sight,