Greg Iles - The Spandau Phoenix

of the Wall.

"Where are we now?" Hans whispered.

"Swinging south around the city, I hope," Hauer replied.

"Would you mind getting your knee out of my balls?"

Hans squirmed in the darkness. His heart was still racing.

"Why didn't that sergeant arrest us?"

"Steiger and I go back a long way. He was with me on the Baader-Meinhof

case that got me my captain's bars. Stormed a house with me."

"But if there's a warrant for our arrest-"

"He could be arrested too. He knows that. But he also knows Funk and

his kind.

Mealy-mouthed bureaucrats who've never seen the real Berlin, never had

to face down a crazy kid with a gun. Steiger asked me if I killed

Weiss, I said no. That was enough for him."

"How long will it take us to cross the DDR?"

"If we get out of East Berlin, you mean? Depends on the old man.

We're taking the long way around, but it shouldn't take over two hours

to reach the Marienborn-Helmstedt crossing. If we make it, we'll leave

the Ochses at Helmstedt and you can drive us from there."

Hans made an uncertain sound of acknowledgment.

"Don't tell me," Hauer said. "You've never been to this cabin."

"Actually, I haven't. But I'll recognize it when we get there.

I've seen dozens of pictures."

Hauer didn't bother berating Hans; it was difficult to speak for long in

the boot. There didn't seem to be much oxygen.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

11:15 Pm. PolizOi Abschniff 53.- West Berlin Funk set the phone back in

its cradle and reached for the bottle of soda water on his desk. His

hand quivered as he poured.

"I gather Pretoria was not amused?" Luhr said softly.

Funk swallowed a huge gulp of soda. "Outraged," he gargled.

"Said we were a disgrace to the German people."

"Was it Phoenix himself.?"

"Are you joking? His aide or security chief or whatever that diabolical

Afrikaner calls himself"

"I believe Herr Smuts is half-German, Prefect."

"And how would you know that?"

"That one time he came here in person, to our plenary meeting.

One of his men told me that he was such an efficient security chief

because he'd got the toughest qualities of both races from his parents.

"The worst qualities, if you ask me," Funk complained.

"The man doesn't have much tact."

"I don't think tact is a major asset in his business," Luhr said dryly,

hoping he didn't sound too sarcastic. For the time being Funk was still

his superior in both the police and Phoenix's hierarchies.

And until that changed ...

A brisk knock at the door startled Luhr.

"Komm!" Funk barked.

An impeccably uniformed patrolman marched into the office and saluted.

"There's been a murder, Prefect," he announced. "Near the Tiergarten."

Funk looked unimpressed. "So?"

"The murdered man, sir. He was an East German trade liaison.

He'd lived here just four years. And the way he was killed, sir. Shot

in the head at close range by a Makarov pistol.

The gun was in his own hand like a suicide, but@' "A Makarov?"

Luhr interrupted.

"Yes, but there were other shots fired at the scene. A burst of

automatic-weapons fire."

"What? What was the victim's name?"

"Klaus Seeckt, Herr Oberleutnant."

"Who do we have on the scene?" Funk interjected.

"A Kripo homicide team, sir. But they're from the Tiergarten district.

The photographer's ours, but he didn't get a chance to call until just

now."

"Leave us," Funk ordered.

The officer clicked his boot heels together and marched out.

"What do you make of this?" Funk asked anxiously.

Luhr looked thoughtful. "I don't know, but I'd better get over there.

We can't let anything slip until we run Hauer down. I don't like any of

this. First the Russians barge in here like an invasion force, then

Hauer betrays us, then I find Steuben taping our calls at

the-switchboard. And now some East German is murdered with a

Russian-made pistol?

What did Apfel find at Spandau?"

Funk frowned worriedly. "If the Russian forensic people are right, some

type of paper. A journal, perhaps? Whatever it is, Jiirgen, Phoenix

isn't amused. Do you think Steuben could be part of an official

investigation? One I don't know about? Something Hauer initiated,

perhaps?"

Luhr shook his head. "Steuben was working with Hauer, but I don't think

it went any farther up than that. We'd have been warned if it did. As

soon as I get back, I'll make the bastard own up to the whole thing.

Don't worry, we're going to bag Hauer, send Phoenix his papers, and end

up better off than we were before."

"You're probably right," Funk said wearily. He stood.

"I'll be at home if you find anything I should know about."

Luhr pulled on his coat and strode into the hall, smiling confidently

until he closed the door. You bumbling fool, he thought.

All you care about is collecting your filthy drug percentages and

keeping your mistress happy. Luhr felt a thrill of secret satisfaction.

As soon as he had learned of Hauer's treason and escape, he had

dispatched some of Phoenix's deadliest assets to every possible place

Hauer or Apfel might go to ground-from the apartment of a woman that

Hauer spent his weekends with, to a remote cabin on the Mittelland Canal

near the East German border. And as soon as one of Phoenix's killers

recovered the Spandau papers, Luhr would step forward and take the

credit. By tomorrow morning, he thought, I'll have enough to break that

fool with Phoenix, and then Berlin-One will pass to me. To a true

German!

He shoved open the main station door and hulled through the crowd of

reporters. Ignoring all questions, he climbed into an unmarked Audi and

slammed the door in a journalist's face. "Those South Africans had

better be good," he 1

muttered, as he rewed the cold engine. "Because Dieter Hauer isn't

going to die easily."

Ten minutes after Luhr pulled away from the curb, Ilse Apfel trudged

through the huge doors of Abschnitt 53 and presented herself to the desk

sergeant. Like the reporters outside, he mistook her for a prostitute

and so ignored her for as long as he could. While she waited for him to

finish a telephone conversation, Ilse tried to wipe off the remainder of

Eva's garish makeup with a tissue.

She did not feel comfortable coming into the station, but her choices

were limited: she could talk either to Hans's superiors or to the men in

the black BMWS. Twice during her journey here she had spotted the big

sedans combing the streets for her, but she'd managed to evade them. At

an allnight U-Bahn cafe she had changed some of Eva's paper

Deutschemarks for coins, which she used to phone the Wolfsburg cabin.

She had tried every ten minutes for an hour, but her grandfather never

answered. The proprietor had started to frown after her third cup of

coffee, and Ilse decided to get out before he called someone to remove

her.

"What can I do for you, Friiulein?"

The sergeant's booming voice startled Ilse, but she stepped up to his

high desk and spoke in her clearest voice.

"I'm looking for my husband, Sergeant Hans Apfel. Earlier tonight

someone told me that he had come here and gone, but I think he may have

returned. Could you check for me, please?"

The sergeant's demeanor changed instantly. He jumped from his chair and

escorted Ilse to an unoccupied desk.

"Frau Apfel, I'm terribly sorry I kept you waiting! Please sit down. I

know your husband personally, Let me call upstairs.

I'm sure someone will know where he is."