Greg Iles - The Spandau Phoenix

and his mission was directed at the Jews!"

Hauer stood up from his seat beside Hans and placed himself between Gadi

and Ilse. "Take it easy," he said. "The Holocaust doesn't give you the

right to take possession of every scrap of history relating to the

Nazis. The papers deal first and foremost with Germans. We should be

the ones

t@ll

"You'll bury them forever!" Gadi ac@used.

Hauer shook his head. "You idiot. Those papers don't hurt Germany,

they hurt Britain."

"This is ridiculous!" Hans snapped. "We could all die at any moment!

If you want to argue about who owns the Spandau papers, it's me. I

found them, so just shut up. Ilse will keep them until we're safely

away from here."

"When will that be?" Ilse asked Dr. Sabri.

"I'm not sure," the Libyan replied. "It depends on how

AL

minimum distance point now."

"Listen to me!" Gadi interrupted. "You may have found the Spandau

papers, but Hess gave the Zinoviev book to my uncle."

"In the belief that he was my grandfather," Ilse reminded him.

Gadi wobbled uncertainly on his wounded leg. Fearing he might lose

consciousness, he raised his R-5 threateningly.

"Tell Frau Apfel to pass the case to me, Captain. Or I will be forced

to take it."

,Put that down!"' Hauer bellowed. "If you fire in here you'll kill us

all!" He took a step toward the commando.

"Stop!" Gadi warned, jabbing his rifle forward.

With the mesmerizing stare he had used on the Russian KGB officer all

the way back at Spandau Prison, Hauer took one more step, then pinioned

Gadi's wrist with a grip of iron.

"Let go!" Gadi cried, his face white with rage. The muzzle of the R-5

was an inch from Hauer's left eye.

"Drop it," Hauer said quietly.

"Let's all calm down, shall we?"

Alan Burton had spoken qgietly from the'cockpit door, but his MP-5

submachine gun put steel in his words. "Let the nice lad go, Captain,"

he said. "So he can drop his weapon."

"He won't drop it."

"I think he will," said the Englishman. "This is a pressurized cabin,

Captain. If he fires that rifle in here, he will kill us all-himself

included d the papers will be destroyed.

My weapon, on the other hand, holds teflon-coated bullets.

They explode before they pass through a human body. A rather handy

innovation. Our Israeli friend probably knows all about it."

Hauer loosened his grip.

"And I must tell you, gentlemen," Burton, added, "I rarely miss what I

aim at."

Hauer let go. Gadi reluctantly let his R-5 fall to the cabin floor.

"None of you need worry about the papers anyway," said Burton, "because

I am taking that briefcase with me."

Hauer and Gadi gaped at the Englishman. Burton grinned.

"You didn't think I was down in that basement on vacation, did you? I

was sent to do a job. To kill a man. And after very name his double

gave when he parachuted into Scotland. How long would it take the

Mossad to figure that one out? A week? Yet the story has never been

made public. If what Stern said about Israeli/South African nuclear

agreements is true, I can see how the Israelis might have let him live.

Hess left Germany in the spring of 'forty-one, and most of the

atrocities weren't committed until much later."

"That's not true!" Gadi argued.

"It is," Ilse said softly. "My grandfather told me that the real crimes

against humanity didn't happen until after Hess left Germany."

"That's obscene!" Gadi shouted. "You're crazy!"

"This is all terribly interesting," Burton cut in, "but I'm not much on

history." He turned to Ilse. "Let's have that case, love."

"Take it!" Ilse cried. She hurled the briefcase at the Englishman.

Gadi tried to intercept it, but his wounded thigh prevented him.

The case landed at Burton's feet. "Would you get that for me, Captain?"

he said to Hauer, keeping his gun trained on Gadi.

Hauer knelt and retrieved the case.

"Open it."

The case was not locked. Hauer opened it and glanced inside. A thin

smile touched the corners of his mouth.

Gadi snatched the case. Burton made no move to stop him. The young

Israeli threw the case to the floor. "Where are the papers!" he

demanded, his eyes on Ilse.

Ilse glared from one man to the other. "Those papers have caused enough

pain! They should have been buried with the rubble of Spandau!

The whole sick business should be allowed to die!"

Gadi put his face in his hands. "Oh God ... no."

Ilse raised her chin defiantly and pointed toward the tail of the Lear.

"Yes," she said. "They're back there.' "In the tail?" Burton asked

hopefully.

"In hell."

Stern had shot three Libyans already, but he couldn't hold out much

longer. If the Libyans rushed him, he might be hit before he could

detonate the weapon. He simply couldn't afford to buy the Lear any more

time. Crouching low, he laid his rifle gently on the floor and took one

of the bright cop, wires in each hand.

"I want to talk!" cried a voice from the shadows.

"It's too late for talk!" Stern shouted back, the first verbal response

he had given the Libyans.

"Why do you fight me, Herr Horn?" Karami asked. "Listen, please.

I know who you are. Deputy Fuhrer Rudolf Hess, yes? You visited

Tripoli in 1937, I believe. You have seen my people, sir. We have the

same goal, you and I-the destruction of the Jews. I was wrong to attack

you, perhaps, but I need all the weapons you have here. Speak to me,

please! Let me finish the job your Fuhrer gave to the Mufti of

Jerusalem! Please, Herr Hess. I do not understand your position!"

Stern laughed silently. "Come forward, Major. You'll understand soon

enough."

Karami considered this. "All right," he said at length.

"I'm coming! I am unarmed!"

Crouched behind the bomb casing, Stern watched the tall, black-mustached

Arab step from the darkness, his hands raised above his head. His onyx

eyes blazed with fierce passion.

"Herr Horn?" Karami asked, puzzled.

Stern raised a hand and pointed to the motionless heap lying just in

front of the bomb cart. "There," he said.

Karami's eyes searched the gloom until they settled on Hess. "Who is

behind there?" he asked. "Mr. Smuts? What happened here?"

"Allah took a hand in things," Stern said.

For the first time, Karami noticed the masked corpses of the South

African commandos. Not far away he saw the body of Pieter Smuts. Then

his black eyes lifted, drawn by the gleaming cylinders behind which

Stern waited.

"So there are three," he said, his voice shallow. "I knew there had to

be more. I knew it."

Stern waited in silence. In spite of what the X-rays had done to him,

he felt strangely awed by the knowledge that his life was now measured

in seconds. His mouth felt dry as sawdust.

"If Hess is dead," Major Karami wondered aloud, "and Mr. Smuts is dead

... who are you?"

Stern poked his head above the bomb casing. Then, slowly, he raised his

hands. The exposed copper wires glinted in the dim light.

With a weight like a cancer in his stomach, Ilyas Karami comprehended

what the wires meant. "What do you want?"

he asked hoarsely. "Do you want gold? Drugs? Diamonds?

For these weapons, my master will grant you a kingdom!"

Stern crouched lower. He prayed to God the Leet was well away by now.

"Why do you consider this mad thing?" Karami asked, genuinely puzzled.

"You want to die? You want to be a martyr? Martyrdom is for the sons

of Allah, my friend, not good Christians. For rescuing these weapons