Greg Iles - The Spandau Phoenix

the unused tumblers his wife had set down earlier, drank it, then wiped

his mouth on his pajama sleeve. "I know what you're thinking, Captain,"

he said. "How Much did the old goat hear, yes?

Well, I'll tell you. I didn't hear everything, but I heard enough. I

wish I'd heard damned all. What I heard ... God help us.

You never said it, but I know what you were talking about. Are you

afraid to say it?"

"I'm not sure what you mean," Hauer said.

"Nazis!" Ochs cried, his wizened head shaking. "That's what you're

talking about. Isn't it? And not just a pack of hooligans desecrating

Jewish cemeteries. You're talking about policemen-professional men,

bankers, board chairmen!"

"You misunderstood, Herr Ochs. It's not so bad as that."

"Captain, it's probably worse than that. Don't you know what the

Phoenix is? It's the bird that perishes in the fire only to be reborn

from its ashes." The old tailor drew himself up to his full height.

"I am a Jew, Captain, a German Jew. Before the war there were 160,000

of us here in Berlin.

Now we are 7,000. I was not a child during the war. While you hunted

scraps in the streets, I existed in a place you cannot imagine.

Beyond hope, outside of time. I lost my entire family-parents, brother,

two sisters-at this place. While they passed into oblivion, I sewed

uniforms for the German Army. I lived while my family died. I promise

you Captain, no uniforms were ever more poorly made than those Benjamin

Ochs made for the Wehrmacht. Every bit of skill I had went into

producing a uniform that would last just long enough to get a soldier to

the frozen Russian front, then fall into pieces fit only for a shroud."

Ochs raised his withered hand. "If you protect such men, Captain, I

tell you now to get out of my house. Now! But if you mean to fight

them . . .

then let me help you. Tell me what you need."

Hans sat speechless, but Hauer lost no time taking advantage of his

offer. "We need a car," he said.

"Done," Ochs said simply.

"We need something to wear besides these uniforms. Do you have anything

that might fit us well enough not to draw attention?"

Ochs smiled. "Am I not a tailor? I won't be a minute with the clothes.

Take whatever food you can find in the refrigerator. If you're going

through East Germany tonight, you won't be stopping for coffee." He

turned and started for the hall.

"Herr Ochs?" Hauer called.

"Yes?"

"What kind of car do you have?"

Ochs's eyes twinkled. "British Jaguar. She runs like the wind."

"Petrol?"

"Both tanks are full." The old man took a step back toward Hauer.

"You stop these men, Captain. Root them out.

Show them what the German people are made of."

turned and scurried down the hall.

"Is he right?" Hans asked. "Are you talking about real Nazis?"

Hauer shook his head. "I don't think so. Germany is the last place

fascism could take hold again. We have the strongest democracy in

Europe. And even if we didn't, NATO and the Warsaw Pact would vaporize

us before they allowed another German dictator. I think we're dealing

with accelerated reunification@conomic, political, and military. There

are massive profits to be made, and Phoenix knows that the nationalist

button is the one to push to get the German people behind them. Funk

and his clowns are just foot soldiers.

Moneymaking drones." Hauer knitted his brow. "Goddamn it, the answer

is right in front of me and I can't pin it down!

All of this fits together somehow: Phoenix, reunification, the Spandau

paper . s-" Hauer stopped dead. "My God. What if Hess's papers

contain something that could be used as leverage against NATO?

Against England and the U.S.? Or even Russia? People have always said

Hess knew some terrible secret. What if it's something Phoenix could

use to pressure the Four Powers on reunification? Even to pressure one

power?"

Hauer thrust the VW keys into Hans's hand. "Move your car down the

block. We don't want to set the dogs on this old fellow. He's been

through enough hell for one lifetime."

As Hans disappeared through the front door, Hauer opened the

refrigerator. He couldn't remember when he'd last eaten. As he reached

for a jar of Polish pickles, an image of Rudolf Hess flashed into his

mind. Tall and cadaverous, the solitary specter shuffled silently

through the snow-covered Spandau courtyards. What could that old man

have known? he wondered. What did he leave behind?

Something big enough to blackmail a superpower? Could anything really

be that big?

"If it is," he told himself with a shiver, "I'm not sure I want to

know."

Hauer pressed down a wave of guilt. He had lied to Hans earlier-he had

seen Erhard Weiss tortured. And he could not blot out the memory. Funk

and his goons weren't sophisticated enough for chemicals; they used

beatings and electricity. On the face, up the anus, clipped to the

penis. And they enjoyed it. Especially Luhr.

Young Weiss had screamed until Hauer thought his jawbone would pop out

of its socket.

The poor boy would have shot his own mother to make them stop, but Luhr

had wanted information, and Weiss hadn't had any. And Hauer-the brave

captain-had stood by in rigid silence while it happened. He could have

tried to stop it, of course, but he would soon have taken Weiss's place

in the torture chair.

Weiss is dead, he told himself. You can't bring him back.

Concentrate on the living. Hauer hoped Hans's wife had made it to

Wolfsburg, but he didn't think much of her chances of getting safely out

of Berlin tonight. If she had been caught, he hoped it was by the

Russians. God alone knew what Jiirgen Luhr would do to a woman if he

got the chance.

CHAPTER TEN

10.40 Pm. -Polizei AbschniH 53.' West Berlin Prefect Wilhelm Funk

appeared on the verge of a myocardial infarction. A critical situation

he thought admirably under his control had suddenly exploded in his

grossly veined face, and he could do precious little about it. A

genetic bureaucrat, Funk searched instinctively for scapegoats, but the

unfortunate Rolf already lay dead in the basement cell with Weiss's

mutilated corpse. Now Funk sat fuming in his office, accompanied by his

aide Lieutenant Jijrgen Luhr and Captain Otto Greener of the Kreuzberg

district.

"They cannot escape, Prefect," Luhr said, trying to calm his enraged

superior. "We have men at every checkpoint.

Even the smugglers know that taking Hauer out would be fatal. I made

the threats myself."

Funk's fury eased a little at this news. Luhr had always been his

favorite. The man had almost no human weaknesses, mercy least of all.

"Where do you think Hauer might run, Jijrgen? And why in God's name

would he betray us to save some green sergeant?"

"It doesn't matter. None of that matters. We'll find him.

it's only a question of time."

"Well, that's the point, isn't it!" Funk exploded. "Who knows what

that traitorous bastard's gotten hold of! He could destroy years of

work and planning!" Funk leaned forward and put his face in his plump

hands. "At least you got the damned Russians out."

"I'm not sure Kosov bought the lie detector charade," Luhr said

thoughtfully.

Funk waved away his concern. "You said it yourself, Jiirgen, it's just

a matter of time before we run them down.

And when we do, our problem is solved. All Bruderschaft men have the

shoot-to-kill order, and the rest of the force will probably do the same