approached the main road.
Two curves away from the intersection, the professor saw a black log
lying across the lane. When he swerved to avoid it, the Jaguar skidded
out of control and slammed nose first into some saplings. It rebounded
from their springlike trunks and coughed into silence.
He staggered out of the car and cautiously approached the log.
Just as he bent to drag it out of the lane, he heard a crack in the
trees behind him. ke? he wondered. No. He stumbled back, thinking he
would get the Mannlicher from the car. Then he remembered dropping it
at Karl's grave.
With panic knotting inside his chest, he scrambled toward the Jag,
planning to drive around or even over the log to get to the main road.
He had one leg inside the car when a voice froze him motionless.
'Herr Professor?'
Natterman whirled, but saw nothing.
'Herr Professor! May I speak with you for a moment?'
Again! Where had the voice come from? The brush on the opposite side
of the road? The trees further on? Natterman tried to calm himself.
Might a neighbor have come out to investigate last night's shots in the
light of morning? These days even country people left such things to
the police.
Backing against the Jaguar, he called, 'Who's out there?
What do you want?'
'Only to speak with you!' the voice replied. 'I mean you no harm.'
'Come out, then! Why do you hide yourselp.'
A tall dark-skinned man stepped noiselessly from the trees twenty meters
up the road. 'One has to be careful,' he said, and then he smiled. 'I
wouldn't want to wind up like your Afrikaner friend.'
Natterman stared fearftilly at the stranger. He felt he knew the man
from somewhere. Suddenly he had it. 'You're the man from the train!'
he cried. 'Stern!'
The Israeli smiled. 'You have an excellent memory, Professor.'
'My God! Did you follow me here?' Natterman took a step back toward
the Jaguar. 'Are you in league with the Afrikaner?'
I
7-284 'Yes, I followed you here. No, I'm not in league with the
Afiikaner. I'm here to help you, Professor.'
Natterman pointed a finger at the Israeli. 'What happened to your
British accent?'
Stern chuckled. 'It comes, it goes.'
'You must have been here last nigh.. Why didn't you help me?'
'I did help you. I stopped that Al-tikaner from going back inside the
cabin and killing you. By the time I'd finished dealing with him, your
Polizei friends had arrived.'
'Why didn't you come forward then?'
'For all I knew, Professor, you had come here specifically to meet that
Afrikaner. The same holds true for your friends.
I needed certain assurances about your motives.'
'You're mad,' Natterman declared. 'Who the devil are you?'
Stern seemed to search for words. 'Call me a concerned citizen,' he
said finally. 'I'm retired, but I keep myself wellinformed in the area
that you've stumbled into with such dire consequences for yourself and
your family.'
'And what area is that?'
'The security of the State of Israel.'
'What?' Natterman gaped. 'Are you a Nazi-hunter?'
'You're not a historian!'
Stern laughed again. 'Professional jealousy, Professor?
Don't worry. I'm a historian of sorts, but not like you.
You've studied history all your life-I have lived it.'
Natterman scowled. 'And what have you accomplished, my arrogant
friend?'
'Not enough, I'm afraid.'
'What do you want from me?'
'Everything you know about the document that Sergeant Apfel discovered
in the ruins of SpandEiu Prison.'
Natterman paled. 'But-how do you know?'
Stern glanced at his watch. 'Professor, I haven't been more than five
hundred meters from those papers since they were discovered. I know the
British-and the Russians are searching like mad for them. I know about
Hauer, Apfel, and your granddaughter. I know you made a copy of the
papers in your office at the Free University, which you mailed to a
friend for safekeeping. I know that Hauer and Apfel have taken away the
six pages which were not stolen by the rikaner. I know-'
'Stop!' cried Natterman. 'Where are the other three pages9' 'In'my
pocket.. Our Afrikaner friend was kind enough to give them to me, after
a little friendly persuasion.'
Natterman shivered, realizing that Stern meant torture.
But ambition overpowered his fear. 'Give them back to me,' he demanded.
'They're mine.'
Stern smiled. 'I hope you haven't deluded yourself into believing that.
These papers belong to no single man. Now, Professor, I'd like to ask
you some questions.'
Natterman recoiled. 'Why should I tell you anything?'
'Because you have no choice.'
'That's what everyone keeps telling me,' Natterman grumbled.
'I assure you, Professor, if I'd wanted the papers, I could have taken
them any time in the last sixteen hours.'
Natterman felt a flash of anger, but something told him Stern was
telling the truth. The same instinct told him that to resist the
Israeli would be pointless, that this man who had materialized out of
the snow like a ghost would get the information he wanted, one way or
another. 'All right,' he said grudgingly, 'Prisoner Number Seven,'
Stern said brusquely. 'The papers prove he was not Hess?'
'I believe they do,' the old historian said warily.
'Where was the double substituted?'
'Hess picked up the double in Denmark. They flew to Britain together.
The double was part of the plan all along' Hess bailed out the moment
they reached the Scottish coast, over a place called Holy Island.'
