Greg Iles - The Spandau Phoenix

out of anger. The Spandau papers will be confiscated, and that will be

that."

"What if we don't catch them before they leave the city?"

Otto Greener, cut in.

"We shall!" Funk snapped. "The alternative is impossible to

contemplate."

"But you must contemplate it, Prefect," Greener insisted, laying smug

emphasis on the title. An old rival of Funk's, Groaner enjoyed seeing

him placed squarely on the hot seat.

"Worry about your own district," Funk grumbled.

"But the problem isn't in my district."

Funk slammed his fist down on the desk. "One small setback and already

the dogs are yapping at my heels! What would you do in a real crisis,

Greener? Loot our accounts and sell out Phoenix?"

"How can I sell out someone I'm not even sure exists?"

Funk sighed. "Shut up, Otto. This problem will soon be resolved, and

when it is, I shall turn my attention to you.

The rotund Greener leaned back in his chair and lit a stained pipe. "I

hope you're right, Wilhelm," he said amiably. "For your sake. But

somehow I don't think you are. My instinct tells me that something

unexpected has happened.

Unexpected not only here, but in Pretoria." He raised a fat eyebrow.

"Perhaps Phoenix is not the omnipotent force we have been led to

believe."

"Fool!" Jiirgen Luhr spat. "Words like that could cost you your life.

You think you're in private here? Because there are four walls around

you? I'm starting to believe you think like a cow as well as look like

one."

"You insolent swine!" Greener bellowed, coming to his feet.

Luhr stood defiantly, daring the big man to move against him. His

psychotic blue eyes and formidable physique made any question of rank

irrelevant. "Hauer is loose in the city, and here you two sit, arguing

like children! What are you going to do?"

Groaner searched for a graceful way to reclaim his chair; Funk looked

like a dog disciplined for some reason it doesn't understand.

"Haven't I? Every car has the names and pictures.

God, every man out there knows Hauer by sight! I've convinced everyone

that he and Apfel murdered one of their own. What more can I do?"

Luhr paced worriedly. "I'm not sure. But I'm not so certain you've

convinced everyone. Most officers will get the report only by radio.

They won't actually have seen Weiss's body. Hauer and Apfel have

friends out there, Hauer especially. Men he's been under fire with.

They won't betray him on the basis of a rumor. Particularly one started

by you."

Funk reddened. "But a moment ago you told me they couldn't escape!"

Luhr smiled thinly. "I'm afraid that was to make you feel better.

I'm really not that confident." His face hardened.

"Tell me about Munich," he said. "I know Hauer was demoted because of

the Olympic massacre, but what exactly did he do there?"

Funk wiped his forehead with a handkerchief. "I don't see what that has

to do with anything."

"Humor me," said Luhr.

Funk sighed. "All tight. Hauer was in the Federal Border Police then.

He was a sharpshooter or sniper or whatever you want to call it.

The Black September fedayeen were holding the Jew athletes at the

Olympic village. They'd demanded a jet to take them to Cairo. They'd

also demanded the release of Andreas Baader and Ulrike Meinhof, whom

we'd just captured that year, plus a couple of hundred Arab political

prisoners in Israel. The Israeli government asked us to allow one of

their commando teams into Germany to attempt a rescue. And that wet rag

Willy Brandt wanted to let them in! He'd offered to release Baader and

Meinhof from the very beginning! Thank God the final authority was in

the hands of the state government."

"And Hauer?" Luhr prodded.

"I'm telling you," Funk said testily.."The fedayeen and their hostages

were given buses and allowed to drive out to two helicopters which had

been brought to the Olympic village. Some people-Hauer among

them-thought that was the best time to try a rescue. But the state

government said no. The ambush was to be at Fijrstenfeldbrijck airport,

when the terrorists tried to move from the helieopters to the waiting

jet. Almost as soon as the choppers touched down at Fiirstenfeldbriick,

someone gave the order to fire. Hauer was one of five sharpshooters.

The light was terrible, the distance prohibitive, and the shooting

reflected the conditions.

The whole firelight took about an hour. In the end it took an infantry

assault to kill all the Arabs, but not before they had blown up the Jews

in the helicopters."

Luhr nodded. "And Hauer?"

"I just told you."

"But the shooting-Hauer missed his targets?"

"No," said Funk with grudging admiration. "As a matter of fact he

killed one of the terrorists with his first shot, and wounded another

with his second. The fool might even have held on to his job if he'd

kept his mouth shut. But of course he didn't. He had to tell everyone

what we had done wrong, why the rescue was doomed from the beginning.

He was screaming for reforms in our counterteffor capability. He wanted

us to copy the damned Israelis."

"So what happened to him?"

Funk chuckled softly. "He paid the bureaucratic price, along with

everyone else associated with the massacre. He was transferred to the

civil police here, and he's been a Thorn in my ass ever since. I never

wanted that bastard in our group! I never trusted him after Munich!

He's carried a chip on his shoulder about those Jews ever since that

day." Funk snorted. "Imagine, losing sleep over a few Jewish

wrestlers."

Funk toyed with a shell-casing paperweight on the desk.

"The irony is that Bonn created the GSG-9 because of Munich.

Hauer wanted to join, of course, but by the time his old friends had

lobbied successfully for his acceptance, he was too old to pass the

physical tests. You have to be practically an Olympic athlete to get

in. He coached their sharpshooters for a while, but that's it. I think

they still use him occasionally in some kind of consulting capacity."

" Wunderbar! " Luhr snapped. "And you think we're going to catch this

man with standard tactics? Christ! We've got to do something more."

"What?" Funk asked, almost pleading.

Luhr shook his head angrily. "I don't know yet. But I know this: you'd

better inform Pretoria of what's happened, and the sooner the better!"

Funk blanched. Greener heaved himself from his chair and reached for

his cap. "I should get back to Kreuzberg."

"Yes, I suppose so, Otto," Luhr mocked. "We'll be sure and tell Phoenix

you mentioned him."

Greener slammed the door.

Luhr laughed. "What an old woman. How did he ever survive twenty-five

years on the force?"

"By doing just what he did then," Funk replied, lifting the phone,

"making judicious exits. Besides, nobody wants Kreuzberg. It's the

shithole of Berlin. Nothing there but filthy Turks and students-is that

you, Steuben? You're still on duty?" Funk cut his eyes at Luhr.

"This is the prefect. Get me an international operator again.

Same number.

Right, Pretoria. I need some advice from an old friend in the NIS.

Those fellows down there really know how to handle a problem.

Crack a few heads and no more problem. Yes, I'll wait .. ."

In the first-floor communications room, Sergeant Josef Steuben reached

under his computer desk and activated a small tape recorder.

After surveying the main station room through the window behind him he

logged Funk's call into a small notebook he had kept religiously for the