Greg Iles - The Spandau Phoenix

"You will be manacled," Stern went on stubbornly. "Israeli

schoolchildren will file past your cell and spit in your face. History

will judge you as it did your master, as one more tragic gangster with

an inferiority complex@, "Swine!" Hess shrieked. "When your skin turns

black and begins to drop off, you will regret your words!"

"Don't let him provoke you, sir," Smuts said evenly. "In ten days time,

Israel will be a dead island in a sea of Arabs."

"Yes," Hess rasped. "What do you think of that, Jew?"

"I think you should plead guilty," Stern retorted. "It will shorten the

time' you have to stand in shame before the world's cameras."

Enraged, Hess stabbed a button on'his wheelchair and wheeled away toward

the door. "Give him 500 rads! Now!"

Jtirgen Luhr's hysterical laugh was cut short by a sharp knock at the

door. A gray-uniformed soldier stepped in, saluted Hess, then turned to

Smuts. "The radar shows one aircraft approaching, sir.

Twenty kilometers out. It responded properly to the codes."

Hess smiled. "Our Libyan friends have arrived to take possession of

their new toy."

"I should get up to the tower, sir," Smuts said.

"No, finish here first. I want this Jew to get his 500 rads today."

Smuts frowned. "I should be with you when you meet the Libyans.

Lieutenant Luhr can finish here. The machine is set. All he need do is

press the button."

Hess paused. "Very well."

"Fifty more exposures," Smuts tofu Luhr.

"Jawohl," Luhr replied, his eyes exultant.

After Smuts rolled Hess out, Luhr swaggered over to the table and leaned

over Stern. "Are you enjoying this, you filthy@' Stern spat into Luhr's

open mouth. The German gagged, raised his fist high over Stern's neck,

then dropped it shaking to his side. He reached up, took hold of the

X-ray tube housing and brought its barrel to within an inch of Stern's

groin. Then he hurried behind the lead shield and peered through the

thick bubble window.

"Let's see if we can burn your balls off, Jew," he snarled.

He pressed the trigger.

604 Pm. The Northern Transvaol

The South African-built Armscor AC-200 armored car swerved off of the

last road east of Giyani and crashed down onto hard veld. Six huge

wheels hurled the long, wedge'shaped hull over berms and trenches at

forty miles per hour-the speed of a mildly agitated rhinoceros.

Machine guns bristled from the Arinscor's steel hide, giving the

lowslung fighfing vehicle the look of a tank designed for a war on the

moon. Inside, Dieter Hauer checked his watch. The hell-for-leather

journey from Pretoria had taken three hours, they still had twenty

kilometers of punishing, trackless wilderness to cover before they

reached Horn House. He estimated they would find it about dusk-the

worst possible time. It would still be light enough for the defenders

to see them coming, but too dark for accurate small-arms fire by his

assault team. He had tried to keep his mind off Hans's fight during the

trip; he'd spent most of the ride conferring quietly with General Steyn.

By concentrating on tactics, he ad almost managed to ignore the fact

that with Stern and the missing pages now in his custody, Hess had no

reason to keep Hans and Ilse alive any longer.

The scene inside the Armscor comforted Hauer, though it would have

terrified most civilians. Ever since Giyani, his team had worn their

black Kevlar helmets and anti-riot respirators. These sophisticated gas

masks concealed the entire face, giving their wearers the insectile look

of Hollywood movie aliens. Every man also wore a full suit of black

body armor. Made of Kevlar composite material fortified by ceramic tile

inserts, these suits would stop not only pistol rounds and shrapnel, but

high-velocity armor-piercing bullets.

Hauer could scarcely tell the men apart. He knew that General Steyn sat

beside him on the metal bench seat, and that one of the men sitting

across from him was Gadi Abrams. Captain Barnard was up front in the

shotgun seat.

The driver and the other two men were members of South Africa's elite

counterterror (CT) commando unit, making up the five-man force Hauer had

originally requested. All the rifles save Hauer's were South African.

Gadi did not mind this, as the South African R-5 assault rifle was

merely a carbine style variant of the Israeli Galil. Hauer carried the

long, graceful sniper rifle he had requested from General Steynthe

Austrian-built Steyr-Mannlicher SSG.69. On the floor lay an assortment

of weapons from grenades to combat shotguns.

He wrenched his respirator aside. "Stern said to expect a strong

defense!" he shouted. "And I think he knows what he's talking about."

General Steyn pulled his own buglike mask off, revealing his perpetually

red face. "He does, Captain. You're the one who insisted on one

vehicle and five men. I would have hit this place with an airborne

division!"

"And seen this corner of your country vaporized," Hauer reminded him.

"What about land mines, General? Aren't they popular down here?"

"Very. We have so many unpaved roads that mines are the weapon of

choice. The bottom of this vehicle is designed to deflect mine blasts

upward and away, but a sustained series of hits-one large minefield,

say-and we've bought it."

General Steyn grinned. "I may be getting up in age, but I don't fancy a

hot fragment in the balls!"

Hauer laughed. The closeness of the sound inside the respirator gave

him a brief flush. Wearing a full suit of armor was disorienting. It

insulated a man from lethal projectiles, but it also isolated him from

the men around him.

Staring through his bubble eyeholes, Hauer wondered about the South

African CT troops. General Steyn had vouched for their loyalty, but

Hauer didn't count that for' much. Not when one of the general's own

staff officers had been on Phoenix's payroll. Hauer would have given

his pension for a German GSG-9 assault team to replace the South

Africans.

He'd have few doubts about success then. But it was no use wishing. You

fight with what you have.

He wondered if Jonas Stern calculated the same way. He could imagine

the dilemma the Israeli was struggling with now-if Stern was still

alive. If it came to a choice between detonating a nuclear weapon on

South African soil or letting it be captured by Arab fanatics sworn to

destroy Israel, Hauer knew Stern would not hesitate to turn this corner

of South Africa into a radioactive wasteland. If the choice were

between Germany and South Africa, he knew he would do the same. He only

prayed it wouldn't come to that.

Across the narrow aisle, the South Africans sat like Sphimes behind

their black masks. Hauer ' finally discerned the smoldering gaze of

Gadi Abrams through the bubble eyes of one respirator. Hauer stared

back, trying to read the message in the Israeli's dark eyes.

The best he could come up with was, "I trust only you and me, and I'm

not too sure about you, " before the young commando turned away.

Hauer felt exactly the same.

6.11 Pm. Horn House

This time Smuts did not meet the Libyans on the runway. He waited in

the relative security of the recept@,on hall with his master. If they

don't like being met by a kaffir he thought, to hell with them.

Hess sat in his wheelchair beside Smuts, wearing a gray suit-jacket and

black eyepatch. He had once again assumed the role of Alfred Horn.

Smuts peered through a window as his Zulu driver goosed the Range Rover