Greg Iles - The Spandau Phoenix

pocket and brought out the missing pages. Before he even realized what

he meant to do, he had lurched forward and laid the three sheets on

Horn's desk.

"You have it all now," he blurted. "Make what you wish of it.

Just give me back my granddaughter."

He turned and moved zombie-like toward the door. His eyes focused on

the handle as he neared it.

"Herr Professor?"

Stern froze.

Horn's warbling voice floated through the darkness like a phantom,

ancient and unreal. "I called the Document Centre in Berlin. They

informed me that you were at the Siege of Leningrad.

This shouldn't be too great an ordeal for an old Wehrmacht soldier.

Have a rest, see your granddaughter. All will soon be back to normal,

and you and I will exchange old war stories. And don't forget to read

the Zinoviev book."

Stern peered through the shadows. The conversation seemed to have tired

the old man. The face which had looked so alive at the beginning of the

meeting now sagged as if drained by chronic pain. Stern groped behind

him for the door. Pieter Smuts turned the knob and slipped into the

hall ahead of him. Stern saw Horn raise a skeletal arm in farewell, and

then Smuts pulled the door shut.

Dazed, Stern followed the tall Afrikaner down the long corridor toward

the reception hall. They crossed it, then walked the length of several

dim passages. Stern felt like Alice being led through the warrens of

the looking-glass world.

Finally, Smuts stopped before a door and opened it.

Stern saw a striking young blond woman dressed in a smart navy skirt and

white blouse. From Natterman's description, he recognized Ilse Apfel

immediately, but he was still so deep in frenzied speculation about the

old man that he failed to notice the shock on her face.'Ilse looked from

Smuts to Stern, then back to Smuts. She started to speak, then held her

tongue, waiting for the Afrikaner to explain the intrusion. Smuts said

nothing. Ilse's eyes moved up and down Stern's lean frame, lingering on

his unfamiliar face, finally settling on Professor Natterman's patched

tweed jacket. Smuts-who was nominally quite sensitive to subtleti of

human behavior-put Ilse's awkwardness down to surprise.

"I hope you both appreciate Herr Horn's generosity," he said.

The words woke Stern from his trance. Instantly he registered the

dangerous bafflement on Ilse's face. Steady, girl, he thought. Steady

"Ilse!" he cried. "My little Enkelkinder! Come to me!" He took a

step forward and held out his arms- Come on girl, get it.

Without quite understanding why, Ilse moved forward.

First hesitantly, then in apparent jubilation, she rushed to the

stranger and pressed her head against his jacket, clinging to him like a

child. She would never know why she did it. It was an impulse, a

tingling flash of inexplicable certainty like those that sometimes hit

her as she watched the stock quotes flickering across the toteboard at

work. She didn't question it, she simply obeyed.

"My little darling," Stern said soothingly, stroking Ilse's cheek.

"Are you all right?"

"Yes, Opa, yes," Ilse murmured. "Can we go home now?"

"Not yet, little one. Not quite yet. But soon."

Stern glared at Smuts over Ilse's blond hair. "Could we have some

privacy?" he asked icily.

A tight grimace plucked,at the corner of the Afrikaner'S mouth, but he

left them.

Ilse immediately pulled away from Stern and opened her mouth to speak.

Stern stifled her with an upturned palm, then pointed to the door.

Who are you? Ilse mouthed silently.

Stern leaned over until his lips touched the shell of Ilse's ear.

"A friend," he whispered. "Thank God you managed to suppress your

shock. I believe you just saved my life."

"It was the jacket," Ilse whispered excitedly. "You're wearing Opa's

jacket. At first I thought it was some kind of crazy trick, but-"

"No trick."

"Where is Opa?"

'He is safe. He's with Captain Hauer."

"And Hans? Is Hans safe?"

Stern nodded impatiently, as if Hans were merely a secondary problem to

be dealt with when and if possible. "Hans is here now. He tried to

trade the Spandau papers for your life, but failed."

Ilse's eyes widened. "Hans is here?"

"Yes, but we can't worry about that now. If we don't figure out exactly

where we are and get me to a telephone, we'll probably be dead within an

hour."

Ilse shook her head. "You'll need an airplane to get out of here."

"You know where we are?"

"Not exactly, but I've been outside. We're far out in the wilderness.

Near something called the Kruger Park, I think."

"The Kruger National Park?" Stern looked at his watch, estimating the

distance he had traveled by road and by helicopter. "Yes, that would be

about right." His voice grew urgent. "Ilse, I don't know how much you

know about the situation you are in. You may, like your grandfather,

see it as merely a squabble over the Rudolf Hess case, but much more

than that. I believe that somewhere in this country there are men who

mean to cause great harm to.my country-Israel. Damn it!" Stern cried

suddenly. "What is hiding here? That bastard asked me if I had any

Jewish blood in my veins, aifd I-an Israeli-denied that I did!"

He threw the Zinoviev notebook onto the bed and tried the doorknob

again, shaking it furiously. Ilse reached out and clutched the sleeve

of her grandfather's jacket.

"You're right," she whispered. "About Israel."

"What?" Stern turned to face her. "What do you meant' "I mean that

Horn wants to destroy Israel."

Stern clutched her arms. "How do you know that? Out with it, girl!

Speak!"

"You're hurting me!"

Stern released her. "What are you talking about?"

Ilse brushed a strand of hair out of her eyes. "Last night, Herr Horn

met with some Arabs up in the central tower of the estate. For some

reason he wanted me there, I don't know why. He offered to provide

these Arabs with a nuclear weapon@ne or more than one, I'm not sure. He

said he would provide it flee of charge if the Arabs would use it as

wished. He said there was a nuclear weapon somewhere beneath this

house."

Stern swallowed hard, his eyes burning into Ilse's. "Did you believe

him?"

She hesitated a moment; then she nodded very slowly.

"How did he say he wanted the weapon used?"

"He said he wanted it exploded inTel Aviv."

Stern felt his bowels roll. "When?"

"Within ten days, he said."

Stern crossed to the bed and picked up the thin black notebook Horn had

given him. Again he read the gold letters stamped on the cover: V V

Zinoviev. Still the name meant nothing. He slipped the notebook inside

his shirt, backed against the far wall, and without a sound threw

himself across the room and against the heavy wooden door.

Ilse screamed.

The door didn't budge. Stern gasped for breath, backed up, charged

again. His wiry frame smashed into the wood with a sound like a child

falling down stairs. Ilse cringed.

Tlwice more the old Israeli flung himself at the door, but it refused to

give. Bruised and winded, Stern raised his right leg and kicked at the

knob with all his strength.

"It's no good!" Ilse cried. "Please stop! You're hurting yourself!"

Stern did not even look at her. With a howl of rage he kicked at the

knob again. When it refused to yield, he backed up and launched his

body at the door yet again. This time the impact knocked him to his

knees. He got unsteadily to his feet and prepared to try again.