Greg Iles - The Spandau Phoenix

up the final crescent of the drive. When the Libyan delegation climbed

out, Smuts immediately noticed the ratio of four bodyguards to two

negotiators. On the last trip, he recalled, that ratio had been

reversed. He also noted the conspicuous absence of Major Ilyas Karami.

Smuts had expected something like this, and despite Hess's optimism, he

had prepared for treachery. He had two marksmen waiting in the

corridors on either side of the reception hall, and he had

reinforcements on the way. This morning, when Major Graaff had called

to report -that he had taken Dieter Hauer into custody, Smuts had

requested a contingent of NIS men to holster his own force. Graaff had

enthusiastically agreed. Smuts,hoped they would arrive soon.

He took a last look at his marksmen, then opened the great teak door and

stepped back.

Wearing flowing white robes, Prime Minister Jalloud swept into the hall

and threw his arms wide in greeting.

"Herr Horn!" he exclaimed. "The historic day has come! Allah has

brought us here safely. May He smile upon our business!"

Hess nodded curtly. "Guten Abend, Herr Prime Minister."

Dr. Sabri and the four bodyguards stepped over the threshold.

"Where is Major Karami?" Smuts asked. "I had hoped to see him again."

Jalloud smiled. "I'm afraid Major Karami was called away at the last

moment to attend to pressing military matters.

I'll bet he was, Smuts thought wryly, flexing his fists to channel off

tension. "Sorry to hear it."

"Would anyone like refreshments?" Hess asked. "It is a long flight

from Tripoli."

"I'm afraid Our Leader has forbidden any delay, Herr Horn," Jalloud said

softly. "He awaits our return with the utmost anticipation."

"To business then. I assume you wish Dr. Sabri to verify.

the weapon's operational readiness before we load it?"

"If we might so impose," Jalloud said timidly.

In that instant, inexplicably, Smuts decided that if trouble was coming,

Prime Minister Jalloud knew nothing about it.

The Afrikaner signaled his marksmen by touching his right eyebrow with

his right hand. He intended to trigger any treachery long before the

Libyans gained access to the basement complex.

"With all respect, Mr. Prime Minister," he said, "I must ask that your

bodyguards wait here. We allow no fiream the basement."

Jalloud looked uncomfortable. "But Our ]Leader provided these men to

assist with the loading of the weapon."

"The bomb weighs more than a thousand kilograms," Smuts replied.

"It must be loaded mechanically. In fact, I have my doubts about your

jet's ability to carry both the weapon and passengers. I had assumed

you would bring a cargo plane."

"I see," Jalloud said slowly, wondering why no one in Tripoli had

thought of this. Or perhaps, he thought with a shiver, someone did. "By

all means," he said. He turned to the bodyguards. "You will wait here

while Dr. Sabri checks the weapon."

Taken aback by this request, the soldiers hesitated. Their orders had

been to wait until they gained access to the basement before carrying

out their mission. But the Afrikaner had forced their hand.

Simultaneously reaching the same conclusion, Major Karami's four

assassins raised their Uzis as one.

Their faces showed even more surprise than Prime Minister Jalloud's when

Smuts's concealed marksmen opened fire with their R-5

assault rifles. The gray-clad-Afrikaners emptied their clips into the

line of assassins from eight meters away, blowing all four backward

against the great teak door.

"The elevator!" Smuts shouted. "Everyone get inside!

Move!"

While Hess's wheelchair whirred toward the open elevator, Prime Minister

Jalloud and Dr. Sabri shouted ri-antic Arabic and crawled along behind

him. Jalloud took a bullet in the left arm, but in his panic he barely

felt it. Smuts had looked back to make sure that Hess was safe inside

the elevator when a stunned Libyan.sat up with a wild cry and let off a

long burst of bullets in his direction.

"Body armor!" Smuts shouted. "Head shots only!"

Bullets ricocheted through the marble-floored reception hall. One

Libyan took Smuts's advice before the Afrikaners did; his teflon-coated

9mm slugs exploded the head of one of Smuts's marksmen like a

cantaloupe. The surviving Afrikaner avenged this loss, then scurried to

shelter behind a large rosewood chiffonier against the far wall.

Another Libyan darted outside to use the doorway as a firing position.

Two seconds later he staggered back into the great hall, blood spurting

from his throat. Smuts's Zulu driver appeared in the doorway with a

long hunting knife in his hand. The Zulu moved quickly to another

downed Arab, dispatched him with his knife, then fell to a long burst

from the surviving Libyan assassin. Smuts's marksman knocked down the

last Libyan as Smuts himself hustled Jalloud and the dazed physicist

into the cubicle where Hess waited.

"Stay here!" Smuts ordered his marksman. "I'll reinforce you soon."

The elevator door slid shut. Ten seconds later, the last Libyan to fall

opened his eyes, brought up his Uzi and fired a sustained burst from the

floor. Two slugs struck the Afrikaner guard in the head, killing him

instantly. Groaning in agony, Major Karami's last surviving assassin

began crawling toward the elevator.

From Hans and Ilse's bedroom the skirmish in the reception hall sounded

like the Battle of the Bulge. When the firing stopped, Hans shoved open

the door.

"Where do we go?" he asked. "Should we try to get out?

They're probably guarding the main doors."

Ilse poked her head outside the door. "There's nowhere to run, I told

you! We've only got onr, chance! Stern!"

Hans could think of no better plan. "All right," he said.

"But stay behind me, understand?"

Another burst of machine gun fire rattled in the reception hall.

"Behind you," Ilse murmured, wondering where Smuts might be holding

Stern.

Keeping close to the wall, they started down the corridor, away from the

sound of the gunfire.

High in the observatory tower, Pieter Smuts searched the ' airstrip

through a pair of powerful Zei@s field glasses. Dusk was falling fast.

He saw the wreckage of the JetRangers shot down last night spread out

over the eastern end of the runway. In the midst of the debris sat

Hess's own Lear, scorched black and missing most of its tail. There was

a single guard standing beneath the Libyan Leaijet.

No one else.

Where was the main body of the assault force? Where was Major Karami?

Behind Smuts, Hess nodded restlessly in his wheelchair.

He was trying desperately to fathom the reason for the Libyan soldiers'

attempt to kill their prime minister. Jalloud himself sat propped

against a bank of satellite recei moaning from the pain of his shattered

arm. Shaking in fear, Dr. Sabri ministered to him as best he could.

"No sign of Karami yet," Smuts said, pulling the field glasses away from

his eyes. "But it will be dark soon. That's when he'll come."

"VAo?" Hess murmured, still dazed by the suddenness of the attack.

"Yes," Jalloud groaned. "It is Karami. It must be."

Smuts glanced at the Vulcan gun. A trim young Afrikaner sat in the

firing cage, his alert eyes checking the fearsome weapon's night-vision

system. Three more gray-clad South Ahicans manned the radar and

communications gear.

"Why?" Hess cried indignantly. "Has Qaddafi gone mad?"

Smuts chuckled quietly. "He always has been. We knew this was a risk.