The Spandau Phoenix

be wiped out. But he is wrong. What united the men of Phoenix exists

everywhere. In Germany. South America. In the Soviet Union.

The United States and Britain. Everywhere. All governments know about

our groups, but they do nothing. The press calls them ultra-right

organizations. A few members go to jail now and then, so what?

Why are they tolerated? Because deep down, people understand these

movements. They express something every civilized man feels-the '

justified fear of anarchy, of racial destruction. They know that one

day the great struggle will come ... the struggle against the Schwarze

and Asian and the Jew-"

"Didn't you hear what I said this afternoon!"

Stern cried.

"The Jews don't want to destroy anyone! That's the difference between

us and you. We have the power to vaporize our enemies, yet we choose

not to."

Hess smirked. "I'll tell you what that tells me, Jew. It tells me that

your race is weak. The Jew is clever enough to build atomic weapons,

but he lacks the moral courage to use what he has created."

"You're mad," Stern said quietly.

Hess chuckled. "Don't deceive yourself. There are individuals in

Israel who want to use their nuclear weapons.

That is why your nation must be obliterated."

With a profound emptiness, Stern dropped his rifle to the floor and

turned away. Seeing this, Hess heaved himself away from the wall and

began dragging himself slowly toward Stern.

"You'll have to kill me, Jew."

Sweating and grunting in the darkness of the airstrip, Hans and Hauer

lifted General Steyn through the main door of the Libyan Learjet.

Ilse and Dr. Sabri were already aboard. After laying the general on a

pile of carpets at the rear of the cabin, Hauer leaned out of the plane

to speak to Alan Burton.

The Englishman had disappeared. Peering into the darkness further up

the runway, Hauer saw the Libyan Yak-42.

Several guards patrolled beneath the big airliner, but as yet 'they had

not spied the activity around the Lear. "Burton!"

Hauer called into the darkness. "There's no pilot in here!"

Hearing a scuffle of footsteps at the edge of the runway, Hauer raised

his pistol.

"Help me get him in!" said Burton.

"My God," Hauer breathed, spying Diaz's blood-soaked shirt. He slid

beneath the Cuban's shoulder and struggled up the jet's three steps. It

took both him and Burton to get Diaz to the Lear's cockpit.

Hauer looked down at the Cuban's face. "He's unconscious!"

"Just resting his eyes," said Burton. "He's a tough little bugger." The

Englishman slapped Diaz on the cheek.

"Aren't you, sport?"

The Cuban's head lolled forward in something close to a nod.

"Jesus," Hauer muttered.

As Hans pulled the Lear's step-door closed, someone grabbed it from

outside and tried to pull it down. "Captain!"

he shouted.

Hauer darted back to the cabin,'kicked the step-door down, and shoved

General Steyn's pistol through the door.

Gadi Abrams stood there gasping for breath, his left trouser leg soaked

with blood. Hauer pulled the Israeli into the plane and secured the

door.

"Ready!" Hans shouted forward.

In the cockpit, Burton strapped Diaz into the pilot's chair.

Everyone else hunkered down in the passenger cabin. Ilse did her best

to comfort General Steyn, who lay with his head propped on a small

pillow. Hess's briefcase lay on the floor at Ilse's feet.

"Can that man fly?" she asked worriedly"If he wants to live," Gadi

groaned as he tied a pillowcase around his torn thigh.

Hans ducked his head and walked up to the cockpit partition. Over

Hauer's shoulder he saw Burton sitting in the copilot's seat, massaging

Diaz's ashen face. "Can he do it?"

Hans asked quietly.

Hauer shrugged. "He's trying."

Diaz's hands floated forward and hit several switches. The cockpit

lights came on. Hans felt a soft thrumming in the jet's hull.

Burton glanced up at Hauer"Those camel bumpers will come running when

they hear the engines, mate. Can you handle them?"

Hauer moved back into the cabin and lifted a Libyan Uzi from the floor.

Hans pulled open the rear door for him.

"Put your hand in the back of my pants," said Hauer.

Then, with only Hans to keep him from falling, he leaned out and drew a

bead on the black figures beneath the Libyan airliner.

Suddenly General Steyn sat up and shouted, "Can't! Can't let Stern ...

detonate! He'll kill thousands'. .. millions!"

Ilse tried to calm the South African, but he would not be comforted.

"Shut him up!" Gadi snapped from the floor.

Hans glared back at the Israeli. "You shut up, you fucking fanatic!"

"Everyone be quiet," Ilse begged. "Please.

The Lear shuddered once, then lurched forward. Through the open hatch

Hans heard distant shouts of alarm. Hauer's Uzi barked three times in

quick succession. Hans thought he saw two Libyans fall, but in the

darkness it was hard to tell.

"Secure that hatch!" Burton shouted from the cockpit.

Hauer fired twice more, then he pulled the steps up into the Lear's

belly. The sleek jet gathered speed rapidly.

Through a side window Hans saw the Yak-42 flash past.

Diaz pushed the engines to their limit. Everyone in the cabin clung

fearfully to whatever he could.

Hauer struggled up to the cockpit and looked out through the windshield.

He saw only darkness ahead. Gripping the back of Diaz's seat, he heard

the Cuban muttering a prayer.

He said a silent one himself. Suddenly Diaz pulled back hard on the

stick, and with a sickening boom the Lear tore itself from the earth's

grasp. The dark veld fell away beneath them.

They were airborne.

JL

CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

Stern peered into the darkness at the far end of the

lab. Hess lay motionless beside him. The old Nazi had dragged himself

too close, and Stern had clubbed him with the butt of his rifle.

He looked dead. Three silent minutes had passed since the last

explosion. Then-just seconds ago Stern thought he had heard a furtive

shuffle from the shadows.

There ... again. He recognized the sound now: the stealthy rustle of

soldiers maneuvering into position.

"Herr Horn!" called a voice from the darkness. "Guten Abend!

This is Major Ilyas Karami! I have come to take delivery of my weapon!"

Squatting behind the bomb with the stripped wires in his hands, Stern

leaned his cheek against the cool metal.

"Herr Horn!" Karami shouted. "There is no need for more men to die! We

want the same thing, don't we? The destruction of Israel!"

Stern glanced at his watch. He reluctantly set the detonator wires

aside and picked up one of the rifles Gadi had left him.

'Herr Horn!" Karami cried. "I know you are there!"

Stern stared down at the exposed detonator wires. They were blurred

now. The radiation had done its work. I could touch them together now,

he thought, and end the whole mad game. But the others will barely be

airborne by now, if they've reached the plane at all.

Gadi ... Hauer ... Frau Apfel . . . the Spandau papers ...

Stern pulled back the bolt on the R-5 and pointed it into the darkness.

"If you do not answer," Karami shouted, "I shall be forced to order my

men forward!"

Stern rose to one knee and depressed the R-5's trigger.

The muzzle flashes seared his damaged eyes as he strafed the far end of

the dark lab. He fired until the clip ran out, then picked up another

rifle. His ears were ringing like fire bells.

Someone moaned in agony.

A deep voice screamed Arabic in the darkness: "Don't shoot back!"

He doesn't want his men to hit the bombs, Stern realized.

That might buy me a few moreStern froze. Through the groans of the

wounded he could hear the rustle of the Libyans edging forward through

the unfamiliar darkness. They were coming. Fighting an almost

irresistible urge to ffimst the wires together, he cocked the second

R-5, rose up, and opened fire.

The Lear was at seventeen thousand feet and still climbing. Diaz had

pointed the sleek jet dead-east, toward Mozambique and the Indian Ocean.

It streaked upward like a bullet, passing four hundred miles per hour.

Alan Burton sat in the cockpit beside Diaz and did his best to keep the

Cuban conscious, while behind them a violent argument raged in the

passenger cabin.

Gadi Abrams wanted Hess's briefcase. He meant to obey his uncle's last

wish, and that meant taking the papers to Israel himself. The briefcase

lay beside Ilse, who was ministering to General Steyn at the rear of the

cabin.

"It is my duty and my right!" the Israeli repeated. "Hess was a Nazi

and his mission was directed at the Jews!"

Hauer stood up from his seat beside Hans and placed himself between Gadi

and Ilse. "Take it easy," he said. "The Holocaust doesn't give you the

right to take possession of every scrap of history relating to the

Nazis. The papers deal first and foremost with Germans. We should be

the ones

t@ll

"You'll bury them forever!" Gadi ac@used.

Hauer shook his head. "You idiot. Those papers don't hurt Germany,

they hurt Britain."

"This is ridiculous!" Hans snapped. "We could all die at any moment!

If you want to argue about who owns the Spandau papers, it's me. I

found them, so just shut up. Ilse will keep them until we're safely

away from here."

"When will that be?" Ilse asked Dr. Sabri.

"I'm not sure," the Libyan replied. "It depends on how

AL

minimum distance point now."

"Listen to me!" Gadi interrupted. "You may have found the Spandau

papers, but Hess gave the Zinoviev book to my uncle."

"In the belief that he was my grandfather," Ilse reminded him.

Gadi wobbled uncertainly on his wounded leg. Fearing he might lose

consciousness, he raised his R-5 threateningly.

"Tell Frau Apfel to pass the case to me, Captain. Or I will be forced

to take it."

,Put that down!"' Hauer bellowed. "If you fire in here you'll kill us

all!" He took a step toward the commando.

"Stop!" Gadi warned, jabbing his rifle forward.

With the mesmerizing stare he had used on the Russian KGB officer all

the way back at Spandau Prison, Hauer took one more step, then pinioned

Gadi's wrist with a grip of iron.

"Let go!" Gadi cried, his face white with rage. The muzzle of the R-5

was an inch from Hauer's left eye.

"Drop it," Hauer said quietly.

"Let's all calm down, shall we?"

Alan Burton had spoken qgietly from the'cockpit door, but his MP-5

submachine gun put steel in his words. "Let the nice lad go, Captain,"

he said. "So he can drop his weapon."

"He won't drop it."

"I think he will," said the Englishman. "This is a pressurized cabin,

Captain. If he fires that rifle in here, he will kill us all-himself

included d the papers will be destroyed.

My weapon, on the other hand, holds teflon-coated bullets.

They explode before they pass through a human body. A rather handy

innovation. Our Israeli friend probably knows all about it."

Hauer loosened his grip.

"And I must tell you, gentlemen," Burton, added, "I rarely miss what I

aim at."

Hauer let go. Gadi reluctantly let his R-5 fall to the cabin floor.

"None of you need worry about the papers anyway," said Burton, "because

I am taking that briefcase with me."

Hauer and Gadi gaped at the Englishman. Burton grinned.

"You didn't think I was down in that basement on vacation, did you? I

was sent to do a job. To kill a man. And after very name his double

gave when he parachuted into Scotland. How long would it take the

Mossad to figure that one out? A week? Yet the story has never been

made public. If what Stern said about Israeli/South African nuclear

agreements is true, I can see how the Israelis might have let him live.

Hess left Germany in the spring of 'forty-one, and most of the

atrocities weren't committed until much later."

"That's not true!" Gadi argued.

"It is," Ilse said softly. "My grandfather told me that the real crimes

against humanity didn't happen until after Hess left Germany."

"That's obscene!" Gadi shouted. "You're crazy!"

"This is all terribly interesting," Burton cut in, "but I'm not much on

history." He turned to Ilse. "Let's have that case, love."

"Take it!" Ilse cried. She hurled the briefcase at the Englishman.

Gadi tried to intercept it, but his wounded thigh prevented him.

The case landed at Burton's feet. "Would you get that for me, Captain?"

he said to Hauer, keeping his gun trained on Gadi.

Hauer knelt and retrieved the case.

"Open it."

The case was not locked. Hauer opened it and glanced inside. A thin

smile touched the corners of his mouth.

Gadi snatched the case. Burton made no move to stop him. The young

Israeli threw the case to the floor. "Where are the papers!" he

demanded, his eyes on Ilse.

Ilse glared from one man to the other. "Those papers have caused enough

pain! They should have been buried with the rubble of Spandau!

The whole sick business should be allowed to die!"

Gadi put his face in his hands. "Oh God ... no."

Ilse raised her chin defiantly and pointed toward the tail of the Lear.

"Yes," she said. "They're back there.' "In the tail?" Burton asked

hopefully.

"In hell."

Stern had shot three Libyans already, but he couldn't hold out much

longer. If the Libyans rushed him, he might be hit before he could

detonate the weapon. He simply couldn't afford to buy the Lear any more

time. Crouching low, he laid his rifle gently on the floor and took one

of the bright cop, wires in each hand.

"I want to talk!" cried a voice from the shadows.

"It's too late for talk!" Stern shouted back, the first verbal response

he had given the Libyans.

"Why do you fight me, Herr Horn?" Karami asked. "Listen, please.

I know who you are. Deputy Fuhrer Rudolf Hess, yes? You visited

Tripoli in 1937, I believe. You have seen my people, sir. We have the

same goal, you and I-the destruction of the Jews. I was wrong to attack

you, perhaps, but I need all the weapons you have here. Speak to me,

please! Let me finish the job your Fuhrer gave to the Mufti of

Jerusalem! Please, Herr Hess. I do not understand your position!"

Stern laughed silently. "Come forward, Major. You'll understand soon

enough."

Karami considered this. "All right," he said at length.

"I'm coming! I am unarmed!"

Crouched behind the bomb casing, Stern watched the tall, black-mustached

Arab step from the darkness, his hands raised above his head. His onyx

eyes blazed with fierce passion.

"Herr Horn?" Karami asked, puzzled.

Stern raised a hand and pointed to the motionless heap lying just in

front of the bomb cart. "There," he said.

Karami's eyes searched the gloom until they settled on Hess. "Who is

behind there?" he asked. "Mr. Smuts? What happened here?"

"Allah took a hand in things," Stern said.

For the first time, Karami noticed the masked corpses of the South

African commandos. Not far away he saw the body of Pieter Smuts. Then

his black eyes lifted, drawn by the gleaming cylinders behind which

Stern waited.

"So there are three," he said, his voice shallow. "I knew there had to

be more. I knew it."

Stern waited in silence. In spite of what the X-rays had done to him,

he felt strangely awed by the knowledge that his life was now measured

in seconds. His mouth felt dry as sawdust.

"If Hess is dead," Major Karami wondered aloud, "and Mr. Smuts is dead

... who are you?"

Stern poked his head above the bomb casing. Then, slowly, he raised his

hands. The exposed copper wires glinted in the dim light.

With a weight like a cancer in his stomach, Ilyas Karami comprehended

what the wires meant. "What do you want?"

he asked hoarsely. "Do you want gold? Drugs? Diamonds?

For these weapons, my master will grant you a kingdom!"

Stern crouched lower. He prayed to God the Leet was well away by now.

"Why do you consider this mad thing?" Karami asked, genuinely puzzled.

"You want to die? You want to be a martyr? Martyrdom is for the sons

of Allah, my friend, not good Christians. For rescuing these weapons

you will be a hero in my nation! Come out from there and let me make

you the richest man in the world! Come out and tell me who you are."

Stern laughed. The sound was brittle as a voice from the grave.

"We're both martyrs, Major. Isn't it funny how that works out?"

His face hardened. "I'll see you in the afterlife, my Arab friend.

Shalom."

In one terrible instant Ilyas Karami realized that the man facing him

across his coveted weapons was a Jew. From the hot core of his being he

screamed a curse of pure hatred at his lifelong enemy, at the same time

jerking out the pistol he had hidden in the belt behind his back.

But at that moment Hess jerked up from the floor and clutched at the

wires in Stern's hands. "Deutschland!" he shrieked. "Deutschland Uber

Alles! " Stern swatted the skeletal arms aside, wrapped the two bare

wires together, and clenched them in his fist. He smiled sadly, then

closed his eyes.

Karami emptied his pistol as fast as his finger could pull the trigger,

but Hess's still-struggling body shielded Stern from the first bullets.

The old Nazi danced horribly in midair, and by the time a slug found

Stern it was too late.

In the blink of an eye, darkness turned to noon. Even with the nose

cone of the Leadet pointed away from the blast, the flash blinded

everyone inside. Diaz lost control of the aircraft. It pitched over

into a screaming, spinning dive, hurtling earthward at over five hundred

miles per hour.

In the cabin, people slammed into each other in the terror of

flashblindness. General Steyn screamed in pain.

Hauer half-fell past Burton into the cockpit. "Straig] up!" he

screamed. "Level out!"

The Lear's engines whined insanely as the plane plummeted earthward.

Hauer grabbed the Cuban's wounded shoulder and squeezed maniacafly-

"Level out, damn you!

The blast wave's coming! The blast wave!"

Somehow Diaz managed to pull out of the dive. He had almost succeeded

in stabilizing the Lear when the blast wave hit. The solid wall of

superheated air tossed the tiny jet like a wave throws a surfboard,

pitching it up and forward, then dropping it into a trough of dead air.

Hauer felt a sudden nausea, as if hydroplaning a car around a curve,

then just as suddenly the feeling passed. He heard Diaz cursing

ftiriously from the cockpit as he wrestled with the controls.

"is anyone hurt!" Hauer shouted. His vision was slowly returning"I

can't see!" someone moaned.

"Holy Mother of God," General Steyn mumbled. "He did it! Stern

actually did it!"

"I can't see anything!" someone cried. "Help me!"

"The blindness will pass!" Dr. Sabri shouted from the floor.

"We were lucky! It could have been twice that bad!"

"The papers!" Gadi muttered, his voict cracking. "The Spandau papers

are gone! Jonas is dead! Where is that German bitch?"

With Ilse now the object of all his rage and frustration, the Israeli

scrabbled blindly across the cabin floor in search of his rifle. Hauer

had finally had enough. When Gadi's hand closed around Ilse's ankle,

Hauer lifted the rifle from beneath the Israeli's sightless eyes and

struck him on the side of the head with its stock.

Gadi collapsed in a heap. Quickly Hauer collected every weapon he could

find-beginning with Burton's MP-5-and piled them all behind some pillows

at the back of the cabin. Then he took Hans's hand and led him over to

Ilse.

"It's all right," he said. "Just keep your eyes closed for a minute."

Ilse's arms went around Hauer's neck as well as Hans's.

"We're alive," she said softly. "My God, we're alive." She opened her

eyes. Tears of relief welled up in them and ran down her cheeks. A

smile started across her face; then she pulled up her hand and covered

her mouth. "Stern," she said haltingly. "Herr Stern ...

he's dead."

As Hauer held Hans and Ilse in his arms, he thought about that.

He suspected that the old Israeli would have called the trade more than

fair. The mystery of Rudolf Hess would probably remain "unsolved"

forever@r at least until the British government opened its secret

vaults-but Stern had never cared much about that. What mattered was

that the State of Israel had received a new lease on life. A gift from

one of its youngest fathers, and eldest sons. EPILOGUE (WASHINGTON)-At

8:47 Pm. Eastern Standard Time last night, a National Weather Office

RORSAT a meteorological satellite recorded an intense flash and heat

bloom over the northeastern corner of the Republic of South Africa.

Weather Office analysts report that the event was consistent with data

resulting from a large underground nuclear blast. The Weather Office

recorded many such events over the Soviet Union during the 1960s, and

believes its opinion to be accurate.

Both the National Reconnaissance Office and the Pentagon have refused to

comment, but it is believed that this incident confirms the existence of

a secret nuclear weapons arsenal in South Africa. A similar event was

photographed over the Indian Ocean off the South African coast in 1984.

Weather Office analysts do not have the equipment required to measure

the release of radiation into the atmosphere, but they suggest that,

with the prevailing winds over the northern Transvaal yesterday, any

such radiation would likely have been blown out over the Indian Ocean.

Several international environmental groups have expressed outrage over

the test. National Weather Office analysts place the probable nuclear

test site less than 20 miles from the Kruger National Park, one of the

richest preserves for wildlife on the African continent. The

environmental organization Greenpeace intends to file complaints with

both the international Atomic Energy Agency and the United Nations, but

the activist group expects that "little will be done."

The White House has issued no statement on the event, and government

officials in Pretoria and Capetown have bluntly refused to grant

interviews, calling the charges alarmist and unfounded. A National

Weather Office analyst who refuses to be named gave this comment: "Tell

the South Africans, 'Welcome to the Club.' (WEST BERLIN-API)-At 4:00

A.M. Central European Time yesterday, an elite counterteffor unit

consisting of GSG-9

commandos working in concert with the U.S. Army stormed a

Friedrichstrasse police station and cleared it of hostile elements.

U.S. Army Colonel Godfrey Rose, the American commander on the scene,

stated that a hostage situation had been going on for some time without

the knowledge of the press. The terrorists inside the station had not

demanded media coverage, Rose said, and it was felt that premature press

involvement "could have impeded the rapid resolution of what was not a

critical, but rather an unpleasant situation."

API has no further information on the terrorists who took over Abschnitt

53, but the West Berlin mayor's office has indicated that several West

Berlin police hostages died in the assault. Among them was Wilhelm

Funk, the prefect of West Berlin police. Funk, along with his fellow

officers, will be buried on Friday with full police honors.

Colonel Rose, who had worked extensively with Funk in the past, called

his death "a loss that will be deeply felt, but is best put behind us."

The funeral service at the Wilmersdorf cemetery is expected to draw

thousands of loyal West Germans.

Minutes of the Special Inter-Allied Intelligence Conference on

Disposition of the Phoenix Case. Schloss Bellevue, West Berlin

[Present: (US) Colonel Godfrey Rose, Chief of Military Intelligence,

West Berlin; US Undersecretary of State John Taylor/ (USSR) Colonel Ivan

Kosov' Grigori Zemenek, Chairman of KGB/ (UK) Sir Neville Shaw, Director

General mI-5; Peter Billingsley, Special Counsel to Her Majesty/ (FRG)

-Senator Karl Holer, Aide to the Chancellor; HansDietrich Muller,

Director of Operations for the BND (West German Intelligence) Meeting

chaired by Undersecretary Taylor] Following passage excerpted from the

questioning of Julius K. Schneider, Kripo Detective First Grade:

[Taylor] Detective Schneider, is it your opinion, then, the Russians

will carry through with their purge of Stasi officers who are listed on

Captain Hauer's list?

[Zemenek] I strenuously object, Mr. Undersecretary! I have assured

this council that all appropriate measures are being taken.

[Taylor] Then you should have no objection to Herr Schneider answering

the question.

[Schneider] I believe the Russians will vigorously pursue such a purge.

(pause) It's the political members of Ph@nix I worry about, sir, on both

sides of the Wall. I doubt that Captain Hauer's list contained a

full [Miiller] Objection! There is no evidence whatsoever that the

Phoenix cult has influence in the political hierarchy of the Federal

Republic! If there is such evidence, our Russian comrades should force

the Stasi to open their infamous blackmail files, so that we may see who

is vulnerable to coercion.

[Hofer] I do not think that will be necessary, gentlemen. The

Chancellor has full confidence that our colleagues in the BND can root

out whatever remains of this atavistic, but entirely anomalous reversion

to the Nazi period of Germany's history.

[unintelligible grumbling on all sides] [Taylor] Gentlemen, I understand

the ramifications of the Phoenix matter. What I'm having difficulty

accepting is that Rudolf Hess actually survived the war and lived until

just a few days ago. The man would have been over ninety years old.

[Rose] (laughter) Ever watch the Today show, Mr. Undersecretary ?

[Taylor] I don't follow you, Colonel.

[Rose] Every morning Willard Scott flashes up pictures of people having

their birthdays. Every picture he puts up is of someone over a hundred

years old. Hell, Prisoner Number Seven only died six weeks ago!

[Billingsley] (clears throat) Gentlemen, I am loath to waste Detective

Schneider's valuable time with trivialities. If I may, I would like to

return to the question of the Hess material. The security of the

Spandau papers, the Zinoviev papers, and other related artifacts. Her

Majesty's government is most concerned to know that all such material is

now in the possession of the United States government, particularly, in

Colonel Rose's Military Intelligence office here in West Berlin.

Detective Schneider?

[Schneider] Sir?

[Billingsley] Is it your opinion that all tangible evidence of Rudolf

Hess's actual mission in 1941 has now been suppressed? That no physical

artifacts remain?

[Schneider] Artifacts?

[Billingsley] Photocopies, photographs, tapes, et cetera?

[Schneider] (lengthy pause) To the best of my knowledge, that is true.

[Shaw] Frankly, I'm much more concerned about the Russian promise.

For the record, I want us all to be absolutely clear on that. In

exchange for the list of Phoenix members compiled by Captain Hauer, the

Soviet government will drop all public pursuit of the Rudolf Hess case.

[Kosov] (burst of unintelligible Russian) [Zemenek] Colonel Kosov!

I apologize, gentlemen. Yes, that is the agreement. My signature

carries the weight of the Politburo.

[Billingsley] Thank you, Mr. Chairman. And we are agreed,

then-unanimously-that the Israeli government will not be informed of the

contents of any of these documents?

[Rose] From what we've learned about the secret Israeli/ South African

nuclear agreements, and the involvement of Rudolf Hess, I doubt the

Israelis would make the story public even if they knew.

[sounds of agreement] [Taylor] Well, then, gentlemen. If we've finished

with Detective Schneider, may I suggest that we adjourn for lunch?

We can resume at two Pm.

[Abstract concluded] 1.45 Pm. Martin Luther Hospital. British Sector,

West Berlin Professor Natterman looked up in surprise from his hospital

bed. Framed in the doorway was the huge, hatted figure of the Kripo

detective whom Natterman had last seen killing a Russian in a South

African hotel room. Natterman shook his head to clear the fog of pain

medication.

"Guten Abend, Professor," Schneider said.

Natterman nodded.

"You look worse than you did in South Africa."

"Infection," Natterman explained. "By the time I reached a hospital

here in Germany, sepsis had set in. They say I'll be cured in two weeks

or so."

Schneider smiled. "Good for you." He removed his hat and overcoat and

stepped closer to the hospital bed. "You know, Professor, I just came

from a meeting where a lot of Allied officials asked me a lot of

questions about the Hess case."

Natterman looked suddenly wary.

"They wanted to know if any evidence of the truth remained. If there

were any photocopies, tapes, anything like that. You know? When I

thought about it, I did seem to remember some photographs Captain Hauer

had in the hotel room. Or negatives."

Natterman lay still as a stone.

Schneider sniffed the hospital air with distaste. "I hate these

places," he said. "Whenever I come, people I know seem to die." He

laid an arm on Natterman's shoulder. "I told those bureaucrats nothing

survived. To hell with them, you know?"

Natterman said nothing.

"But I've been thinking," Schneider went on, "about what should happen

to evidence like that. If it really existed, of course. Should it be

trumpeted in the press, or in a book?

Rehashed for the millionth time like all the other Nazi history?

Or should it be buried, like the Allies want it to be?"

After a long silence, Natterman said, "I've been doing some thinking

too, Detective. I've decided that the decision should not be up to us.

To Germans."

Schneider nodded slowly.

"Help me out of bed," Natterman said suddenly.

"What? The doctors said I couldn't visit you more than ten minutes. You

can't get up."

Natterman's face contorted in pain as he pulled something from beneath

his bedclothes. An envelope. "I've got something I need to deliver,"

he said. "And I want to make sure you take it where I want it to go.

So, help me up."

"How do we get past the doctors?"

"You're a policeman, aren't you?"

Schneider put on his hat and overcoat, then lifted the old man out of

bed as if he were a child.

At the Wilmersdorf post office, Schneider took a final glance at

Natterman as he walked into the building. The old historian's face,

framed in the open window of the taxi, was flushed by the freezing wind.

Inside the post office, Schneider withdrew Natterman's envelope from his

coat pocket. When he saw the address scrawled on the paper, he smiled.

Schneider suspected it had taken a great act of sacrifice on the

professor's part to give up what this envelope contained. If it

contained what Schneider thought it did. Unable to resist the

temptation, Schneider took a small knife from his pocket, slit open the

envelope, and looked inside.

He saw several strips of black-and-white photographic negatives.

He held one up to the light. He saw what could only be Latin.

The Spandau papers. The envelope also contained a note, written on a

piece of hospital notepaper. It said:

To whom it may concern:

I imagine your superiors will know what to do with these. The German

who wrote these words wanted his story told, but it is for your people

to decide what is best.

Signed, A good German Schneider folded the paper and slipped it back

into the envelope. Then, ignoring a long line, he stepped up to the

postal counter. The clerk made an extremely rude face and motioned for

him to move to the back of the line. Schneider pulled out his wallet,

threw a banknote on the counter, and showed the clerk his Kripo ID.

"Polizei," he grunted. "Give me some tape."

The clerk handed Schneider a tape dispenser. Schneider carefully

resealed the envelope; then he shoved it across to the clerk. "You make

sure this gets where it's going," he said. "And no slip-ups.

It's Polizei business."

The clerk snatched the envelope and stuffed it behind his counter.

He acted annoyed, but Schneider could tell he'd gotten the message.

Schneider pulled his coat collar around his big neck and ambled out into

the freezing Berlin wind.

He nodded to Professor Natterman; then he grinned. He better now.

Inside the post office, the clerk jerked the envelope out of its slot

and read the address.

Israeli Ambassador c/o Israeli Embassy 5300 Bonn 2 Simrock Allee #2

Bonn, Germany The return address was the same.

"Jews in the damned police department," the clerk muttered. "What the

hell is happening to this country?"