Greg Iles - The Spandau Phoenix

anything else." Hauer looked up into Hans's eyes. "What did she tell

you about that day?"

Hans shrugged. "She told me who you were. That you were my real

father. But she said you'd only come back to ask for money. To beg for

a loan."

Hauer looked stunned.

"I don't think I believed her, though," Hans said softly, "even then.

Not deep down. You know what I remember about that day?"

Hauer shook his head.

"Your uniform. A perfect green uniform with medals on the chest.

I never forgot that. And when the police showed up to take you away,

you showed them your badge and they went away instead."

Hauer swallowed hard. "Is that why you became a policeman?"

"Partly, I guess. I really became a cop because it was absolutely the

worst thing I could do in Mother's eyes. She'd spent twenty years

trying to mold me into,a banker, like her first husband. And I guess he

wasn't so bad, really, looking back, But when she married that goddamn

lawyer, I started to hate her. She was so transparent ...

always trying to buy respect. And I hated her more because I knew that

in some twisted way she was doing it all for me. After she married the

lawyer, I wanted to hurt her as much as she'd hurt me.

And the best way to do that was to become everything she had run away

from when she was young. To become a working-class slave, just like

you." Hans laughed. "Then I found out I liked the job. What would

Freud say about that, I wonder?"

Hauer forced a smile.

"I believe what you've told me," Hans said. "But when I showed up in

Berlin wearing this uniform, why didn't you tell me your side of it?"

"That was ten years after Munich," Hauer explained.

"Long before then I'd resigned myself to the fact that I'd have to live

the rest of my life without you, or any family.

When you came marching up to me outside that police station, with a

hundred-pound chip on your shoulder and reciting that stupid agreement

you'd worked out, I didn't know what to think. You'd already come that

far back to me on your own ... I wasn't going to rush anything."

Hans nodded. "I wanted to make it on my own. I didn't want an help

from you. And no matter how much I hated Mother then, I wasn't ready to

find out the truth about you.

Not if the truth was that you really had run out on us."

"She never told me she was pregnant, Hans. It's an old story. I was

good enough to fall in love with, but not to marry. It's sad, really.

She hadn't grown up any better than I had, but she'd set her sights on

marrying rich. Fear of poverty, I guess. She did love me, I still

believe that. But there was no way her kid was going to be raised by a

cop. She wanted it all for you, Hans, gymnasium, university-I, "You

don't have to tell me," Hans cut in. "I know it all by heart."

"But what I can't forgive is her putting it all on me. Making me out to

be ... Christ, I don't know."

"It's okay. It is. How could she tell me it was her fault I didn't

have a father?" Hans's eyes fell on the face of his watch. He looked

up quickly. Hauer was still pointing the Walther at him.

"I know what you're thinking," Hauer said. "Don't try it.

Look, if whoever was in your apartment really had Ilse, they would have

put her on the phone. They'd have made her draw you. It's you they

want@r what you found."

"But you can't know that. What if she's hurt? What if she couldn't

speak? What if she's deaal?"

Hauer lowered the pistol a few centimeters. "I concede those

possibilities. But we're not going to charge into a situation we know

nothing about to die like romantic fools.

First we must know if we are being hunted officially." He picked up the

telephone with his left hand and punched in a number. "I want you to

think of any possible places Ilse might have run to, or even gone

innocently. And Hansthink like a policeman, not a husband. That, if

anything, will save your wife." With a last look at Hans, he stuck the

Walther into his belt.

Hans felt his fists quivering. A wild voice told him to bash Hauer's

skull and take the car keys, that quick action was Ilse's only chance.

But his police experience told him that Hauer-that his father-was right.

"Communications desk," Hauer said curtly.

"Who's calling?"

"Telefon. There's a line problem."

"Hold, bitte."

Hauer put his hand over the mouthpiece. "Pray Steuben's still on duty,"

he whispered.

"This is Sergeant Steuben," said a deep voice. "We have no line

problem."

"Steuben-"

"Dieter? My God! Where are you?"

"Let's just say I'm still under my own.recognizance."

Steuben's voice dropped to a whisper. "You're damned lucky. Funk has

an army out looking for you and that young sergeant. They're watching

all the checkpointseverywhere."

"I knew they'd come after us, but I didn't think they'd make such a fuss

about it. Shine too much light on us, and some inevitably shines on

them."

"No, Dieter, listen. They're saying that you and-"

"Apfel."

"Yes, they're saying that you and Apfel killed Erhard Weiss.

They're playing it like a simple murder. They brought Weiss's body up

from the basement and paraded a few lieutenants and pressmen through.

I'll tell you, Dieter, some of the boys were pretty upset. The story is

that you and Apfel were tied into organized crime and Weiss found out.

Most don't quite believe you did it, but everyone's damned angry.

You'd better walk softly if you come up on any old friends."

"I understand, Josef. What about that other matter?"

"Another call went out from an empty office about 16:30 this

afternoon-same destination."

"Pretoria?"

"Right." Steuben's voice dropped lower. "Dieter," he said hesitantly,

"you didn't really kill young Weiss, did you?"

"My God, Josef, you know better than that!"

Steuben hesitated. "What about Apfel? I don't know him."

"He tried to save the boy! They were comrades. Think, Josef.

Weiss was Jewish-that doesn't lead you anywhere?"

Steuben's reply was almost inaudible. "Phoenix."

"Yes. I've got to go now. I want you to stay on duty as long as you

can, Josef. You're my last link to that place.

Someone's got to watch them. And watch yourself, too. Now that I've

shown my true colors, they'll start looking for others. They know we

were friends. I'll use the same story when I call back-Telefon."

"Don't worry," Steuben whispered. "I'm here for the duration.

But ... I'm worried about my family, Dieter. My wife, my little girls.

Did you cover them?"

"Just as I promised. There are two men with them now, good friends of

mine. GSG-9 veterans. No worries there.

Funk couldn't get into your house with anything less than a full-scale

military assault."

"Thank you, my friend."

"Auf Wiedersehen, Josef."

Before Hauer could set the phone in its cradle, Hans broke the

connection and punched in a new number.

"Who are you calling?" Hauer asked.

"None of your goddamn business," Hans snapped. "You can cover your

friends with GSG-9 men, but you can't take twenty minutes to save Ilse?"

"Hans, you don't understand-"

"Eva?" he said loudly.

"Hans!"

"Yes. Eva, I want you to look outside your door and-' "Listen to me,

Hans! Someone is tearing your apartment to pieces right now! That

tells me they haven't found her yet!"

"What? You've seen Ilse?"

"Seen her? I sneaked her out of the apartment tonight just before the

stinking Russians got her! What the hell have you done?"