Greg Iles - The Spandau Phoenix

But what of Helmut, the daring German spy with the eyepatch? Had he

really died from his terrible beating? Or had he somehow managed to

escape and eventually make his way here, to South Africa? Stern felt

more confused than he ever had in his life. How are Hess and Zinoviev

connected?

he wondered. Where did their lives intersect? Nowhere in Zinoviev's

account was Hess mentioned, yet the date of the planned assassinations

simply couldn't be coincidence. Hess had flown to Britain on May 10-the

exact date that Zinoviev had been ordered to kill Churchill and the

king. So why had Hess been ordered there at all?

Abruptly Stern stood and closed the notebook. Of course!

Zinoviev's failed mission-the double assassination-as important as it

was, was merely preparatory. The real objective was the replacement of

Churchill's government-a coup d'etat. That was Hess's part of the

mission, the political side. But what had gone wrong? The bombs had

fallen as Hitler ordered, but Churchill and the king had not. As far as

Stern knew, no assassin ever got close to either leader on May 10, 1941.

So where did that leave the British conspirators who had planned to

replace them? Where did that leave the real Rudolf Hess? Whatever

Hess's mission had been, Zinoviev's failure had blown it. So where had

Hess gone? When his mission failed, why didn't he go straight back to

Germany? Why run to Paraguay, where he had ap patently witnessed

Zinoviev's document? Many Nazis fled to South America after the war.

patently witnessed Zinoviev's document? Many Nazis fled to South

America after the war. Had Hess been- one of the first to go? And had

he gone alone? No. Somehow, Stern realized, somewhere, Hess had met

Zinoviev before Paraguay.

Had it been in Germany? Or was it in England, on the run after the

failed mission? I'll bet dear Helmut of the one eye could answer that

question, Stern thought wryly. And I've got the oddestfeeling that he's

sleeping in this very house!

Stern hurriedly reconstructed Hess's flight in his mind. If what the

Spandau papers said was true, the real Hess had taken off from Germany,

picked up his double in Denmark, then flown across the Channel and

reached the Scottish Coast around ten Pm. The real Hess had bailed out

over Holy Island; then the double flew on, directly over Dungavel

Castle-his supposed target-all the way to the western coast of Scotland.

There he had turned, paralleled the coast for a while, then flown back

toward Dungavel and parachuted into a farmer's field a few miles away.

Why was the double needed at all? Stern asked himself. As a diversion?

He pictured the lonely, frightened German falling from the Scottish

sky-an image that had captivated the entire world.

What had been in the double's mind at that moment? In the Spandau

papers he had frankly admitted ignorance of the real Hess's mission.

All the double knew was that the scheduled radio signal from Hess had

not come, and rather than kill himself as ordered, he had bailed out of

the Messerschmitt, broken his ankle, and then, when a shocked and sleepy

Scottish farmer approached him, he had claimed to be Rudolf Hess-just as

he'd been ordered to do had the proper signal come.

Stern felt the breath leave his lungs in a rush. My God! he thought.

The double had not claimed to be Rudolf Hess! Not at first, anyway. He

had not given the farmer Hess's name, but another name-a name always

thought to have been a cover. But that was ridiculous, Stern realized,

because Rudolf Hess was the double's cover name! After his failure to

swallow the cyanide pill, after his bloodcurdling first-time parachute

jump, the confused pilot had given the farmer his real name. And his

real name was Alfred Horn!

Stuffing the Zinoviev book under his shirt, Stern snatched the broken

dinner fork from beneath his mattress and went to work on the door lock.

Thirty seconds later, he switched off the light and peeked outside. Two

soldiers wearing khaki uniforms and carrying South African R-5 assault

I'll guarded both ends of the dark corridor. Apparently the tive attack

held prompted Pieter'Smuts to post sentries against anyone who might

have leaked through his defenses.

Or perhaps, Stern thought desperately, perhaps Horn's Arab friends are

scheduled to return sooner than I thought. With his chest pounding, he

eased the door shut and slumped against it. He had to find a way out!

He knew exactly where he wanted to go, and it wasn't to the basement in

search of Frau Apfel's alleged nuclear weapon. Nor was it to the shrine

room telephone to call Hauer. All he could think about was something

Professor Natterman had reminded him of during the flight from Israel.

Something he had known for so long that he had forgotten it ...

Something about Rudolf Hess.

CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

11.40 Pm. Horn House Hans and Ilse lay in darkness in the opulent main

guest room of Horn House. They left the light off, for they knew each

other better without it. Ilse's face, wet with tears, nuzzled in the

hollow of Hans's neck, Piled upon the tortures she had already endured,

killing Lord Granville had caused Ilse's brain to spin a protective

cocoon around itself. After a time, though, the barrier began to thin

and stretch. Whin it finally broke, the tears had come, and she began

to answer Hans's questions. His first was about the baby, and Ilse's

confirmation of what he had been too frightened to believe engendered a

deep and dangerous tension within him. His left hand stroked Ilse's

cheek, but his right fist clenched and unclenched at his side.

"Don't worry," she whispered from the darkness. "Herr Stern is going to

help us."

Hans went still. "Who?"

"Herr Stern. I thought you knew about him. He came here impersonating

Opa. He's come to help us."

"What?" Hans rolled out of the bed, stumbled over to the wall and found

the light. "Ilse, what have you done?"

She sat up. "Nothing. Hans, my Oandfather is here in South Africa.

He's with your father in Pretoria. Herr Stern is working with your

father."

Hans's eyes grew wide. "Ilse, this must have been some kind of trick to

get you to talk! What did you tell them?"

"Nothing, Hans. I don't understand it all, but Herr Stern came here

wearing Opa's jacket, and the kidnappers plainly believe that he is my

grandfather."

"My God. Where is my father now? Did this man Stern say?"

"He told me'that he left your father, Opa, and three Israeli commandos

at a hotel in Pretoria. They're waiting for instructions from Stern

right now."

"Israeli commandos?" Hans felt as if he had stumbled into a madhouse.

"Where is Stern now?"

"I don't know. They were holding us together, but we split up when we

escaped."

"Who is this Stern?" Hans asked irritably. "How did he even become

involved?"

"He's an Israeli. He met Opa at the cabin in Wolfsburg.

He is a good man, Hans, I could feel it."

"He told you he had commandos with him? How old a man is he?"

Ilse shrugged. "Somewhere around Opa's age, I guess."

"And this is the man who's going to get us out?"

"He's done more than anyone else."

That stung Hans's pride, but he tried not to show it. If Ilse could

cling to her optimism, all the better. But might they really have a

chance? Had his father somehow managed to organize some kind of rescue?

"Ilse," he said'softly. "How can this man Stern help us?"