Greg Iles - The Spandau Phoenix

troubled sleep. Carefully, Hauer refolded the aluminum foil around the

pages and slipped them back into Hans's pocket. And what will you do,

he wondered, when you finally learn that your grandfather-in-law has

condemned your wife to death? For without the Spandau papers to trade

to the kidnappers, intact, Hauer knew the chance of bringing Ilse out of

Africa alive dropped by at least 50 percent. How could that bastard do

that to his ownflesh and blood?

And then Hauer knew. The old man had not stolen the missing pages-he'd

lost them! Lost them to the Afrikaner who attacked him.

And the Afrikaner had lost them to whoever had attacked him! That was

why Natterman had frantically searched the carcass that Hans dragked

into the cabin; he'd been looking for the missing pages. And he had

found nothing! My God, Hauer thought, feeling acid flood his stomach,

someone else has those pages!

As the DC-10 roared south toward the bottom of the un world, Hauer

wondered who could possibly have 0 Natterman's cabin before he and Hans.

Funk's men? Ilse had obviously been forced to give the cabin telephone

number to her kidnappers. Had she also given them the cabin's location?

How early had she been captured? Who else was hunting for the papers

now? Hauer had seen some rather English-looking young men hovering

around the ticket d'Hans had slipped counters at Frankfurt Airport, but

he an by them on the strength of their false passports.

If Hauer had only known-really known-who had the missing pages, he might

have felt less like a shepherd leading a lamb to the slaughter.

But he didn't know. And as he closed his eyes to the sound of the

roaring turbines, one word cycled endlessly through his mind.

Who?

7.40pm. E-35Motorway, Frankfurt, FRG Jonas Stern took his eyes from the

motorway long enough to glare at Natterman in the passenger seat. "We're

going to Israel to pick up some packages, and that's all I'll bloody say

about it!"

"But what kind of packages?"

"You'll find out soon enough."

"But you were on the phone for hours," Natterman persisted. "You wasted

a whole day."

"Klap kop in vant!" Stern snapped in Yiddish. "So the Messiah comes a

day later! You don't order these packages like a pizza pie, Professor.

You told me yourself that the rendezvous with the kidnappers isn't until

tomorrow night.

We'll make Pretoria in plenty of time."

Natterman sulked in his seat. "Why were you talking to an air force

general?"

Stern exploded. "You were listening to my calls!"

"Only one," Natterman lied. "I just want to know what's going on.

Where's the harm in that?"

"You'll know all you need to know," Stern said, scowling.

"When you need to know it, not before. If you'd put your precious

career aside for a moment and tell me all you know about Hess's mission,

I might see fit to reciprocate."

Natterman put an age-spotted hand to his mouth and bit his thumbnail. He

looked like a gold prospector deciding whether or not to reveal the

location of his big strike to a stranger whose help he needs. With

sudden gravity, he reached across the seat and took hold of Stern's arm.

"I'll tell you what I think about Hess's mission," he said excitedly. "I

think Rudolf Hess is still alive. " Stern turned and caught Natterman's

eye; then he looked back at the wide motorway.

He chuckled softly. "I know you do, Professor. And I wish it were so

easy. But you watch too many movies."

"Then you don't think Hess is alive?" Natterman asked incredulously.

Stern grinned. "Sure. He's set up housekeeping with Martin Bormann and

Josef Mengele. Amelia Earhart is the housemaid and Elvis Presley

provides the dinner entertainment."

Natterman ignored the levity. "Then you're really not hunting Hess?" he

said suspiciously.

-.'

Stern shook his head. "I told you, Professor, I'm no Nazihunter.

I'm more of a gamekeeper. And the preserve I protect is Israel."

"Hess is alive," Natterman insisted. "I know he is. It's completely

conceivable. His double died only four weeks ago, and the medical care

at Spandau was atrocious. "

Natten-nan folded his arms defiantly. "Rudolf Hess is alive and I'm

going to find him."

Stern grunted skeptically.

"Since you're not hunting him," Natterman said in a superior tone, "I

suppose I can tell you how I know he's alive."

"Enlighten me, 0 Master," Stern said with mock gravity.

Natterman scowled. "Laugh if you like. I'll bet you don't laugh at

this. Remember the tattooed eye that I showed you on the Afrikaner's

head? That's the constant in this whole mess, the one unifying symbol.

The Spandau papers said the eye was the key, and the fascist members of

the Berlin police have the eye tattooed on their scalps beneath the

hair.

Hauer told me so. But what Hauer doesn't know, Stern, is what that

symbol means. I do. It's an Egyptian symbol-the All-Seeing Eye, the

Guarding Eye of God." Natterman nodded knowingly. "Hauer also told me

that the police fascists protect something or someone called Phoenix.

Are you familiar with the Phoenix, Stern?"

"Of course. It's the mythological bird of flames that rises from its

own ashes every five hundred years."

"Very good. Now, 'Phoenix' is a Greek word, but the Greeks did not

invent the Phoenix myth. Phoenix is but the Greek name of the Egyptian

god Bennu-the bird who rises from the ashes of its own destruction. Do

you see?"

"What I see," said Stern irritably, "is a history professor who has lost

touch with reality."

Natterman cackled. "That's because you're blind, Stern!

Blind like all the rest! Blind to history! I told Hauer that the key

to this mystery lay in the past, but the arrogant fool didn't believe

me!"

"What in God's name are you babbling about?"

"Egypt, Stern, Egypt. Don't you see? All these mystical signs and

symbols, they lead ultimately to one man: Rudolf Hess!"

"How?" Stern snapped.

"Because," Natterman explained, "Rudolf Hess was born and raised in

Egypt! He went to school in Alexandria until he was fourteen years

old!"

Stern sat in stunned silence. "That's true," he murmured finally.

"I remember now."

Natterman was nodding with nervous energy. "I'm going to find him,

Stern. I'm going to deliver that Nazi bastard into the modern world. It

will be the academic coup of the century!"

"Take it easy, Professor. I think you're letting your imagination run

away with you. That eye could mean any number of things. And the name

Phoenix has been used to name everything from cities to cars to condoms.

You're stretching logic too far. So Hess was raised in Egypt ... I'

presume he attended a German school there, and he was still only a. boy

when he emigrated to Germany."

"He did attend a German school," Natterman admitted.

"But fourteen is not so young. And childhood impressions are often the

most vivid of our lives. The treasures and mysteries of Egypt's past

would have fascinated any European boy. No, Stern, I don't think I'm

stretching logic. It's simple deductive reasoning."

Stern looked thoughtful. "Think what you wish, Professor.

I will say this: I'm not so sure Hess's original mission is over yet"-he

smiled-"I just don't think Hesr, is running it."

Natterman looked anxious. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that Hess flew to Britain to arrange an AngloGerman peace.

I accept that as fact. Whatever delusions Hess may have had, the