I can hide in the standsthe high ground-while you make the exchange on
the field.
You'll have two jobs. The first is acting.'
'Acting?'
Hauer nodded. 'You're going to be holding a grenade, and you've got to
act like you'll blow everyone to hell if they don't hand Ilse over as
soon as they touch the papers.'
'I won't have to act,' Hans said.
'I'm afraid you will. it won't be a live grenade. We won't have access
to one. We'll buy an empty one at an army surplus shop. The grenade is
just a prop to speed things along.
We want Ilse in your hands ten seconds after you hand the papers over.'
'And my second job?'
'Running. As soon as you get Ilse, you'll start walking toward
preplanned cover. The kidnappers will have no intention of letting you
escape alive, of course. When you hear the first shots, you run like
hell.'
'What's your job?'
Hauer made a pistol with his thumb and forefinger. 'Suppressing fire.
The second you get Ilse clear of my line of fire, I start knocking
people down. The first shot you hear will be mine. I'll take out the
men on the field, plus anyone they may have covering the exchange
location.'
Hans studied Hauer's face. 'Can you do that?'
'I won't lie to you. Two snipers would be better. But I'm still one of
the best rifle shots-in Germany. I can do it.'
Hans stared out of the small window at the stars hanging-2
in the African darkness. 'Have you used this plan before?'
Hauer smiled faintly. 'I've seen it used. Ten years ago I saw
terrorists use it successfully against the Cologne police.'
'Oh.'
The Lufthansa jet leaned sixty-five degrees to starboard, banking for
final approach. Hans gripped the armrests of his seat and stared
straight ahead. Hauer watched him silently, wishing he could reassure
his son more. At least he had spared Hans what he himself knew: that
the terrorists who had used his hostage-exchange plan had escaped the
Cologne football stadium only to be blown to pieces in a train station
an hour later. Escaping an exchange point with Ilse might not be too
difficult; escaping from South Africa was another thing altogether.
Hauer laid his callused hand over Hans's and squeezed tightly.
'We'll get her, boy,' he said softly.
Hans looked over at his father, fils jaw resolute. 'I'm ready.
But there's something I can't get out of my mind.
Who cut the throat of that Afrikaner who attacked Professor Natten-nan?
Why did he do it? And where did he go? Did he just disappear?'3
Hauer's face darkened. He knew exactly why the unknown killer had cut
the Afrikaner's throat, and if Hans opened the foil packet in his inside
coat pocket, he would know too. The killer had escaped with three pages
of the Spandau diary. At Hauer's orders the packet had remained hidden
for the duration of the flight. But sooner or later, Hans would have to
be told the truth. Otherwise he would find it out for himself.
'Hans,' he said, 'I've got a feeling we may meet our elusive killer
sooner than you think.'
2.2il A.M. El Al Flight 331: Over Tai Aviv, Israel
The El'Al 747 flew a lazy racetrack pattern over Ben-Gurion eet, Airport
at a comfortable twenty-eight thousand f One Of a dozen tiny blips on
the emerald air-traffic screens belowAn equipment malfunction on an
Eastern whisperedt on runway 3 had caused a delay, and until the men who
monitored the skies over Tel Aviv granted clearance, Professor Natterman
and his reticent Jewish companion would have to wait in the sky along
with two hundred and seventy other impatient travelers.
'What are these mysterious things we need to pick up?'
Natterman asked. 'Weapons? Explosives?'
ess. 'We will need weapStern looked out at the darkn them in South
ons,' he murmured. 'But we'll have to get Africa, not Israel. I
arranged it all from your cabin.'
Natterman tried without success to ignore the acid stomach he had
developed during the flight from Hamburg. Combined with the stinging
pain radiating from his ripped pected delay almost nostril, the
indigestion made the unex unbearable. 'Do you think they've arrived in
Pretoria yet?'
he asked.
Stern looked at his watch. 'If they took the first flight out of
Frankfurt, they should be landing in Johannesburg right about now.'
'God help them.'
Stern grunted skeptically.
'I've been thinking about what you told me back in Frankfurt,' Natterman
said. 'About that Lord Granville character. The one who owns the
corporation called Phoenix AG. If Granville is English, and his company
is based in South Africa, why did you come to Berlin at all?'
'That's a good question, Professor. But the answer is complicated, and
for now at least, private' '
'If you're not going to tell me anything,' Natterman grumbled, 'why did
you bring me along in the first place?
A man like you doesn't do things without a very good reason.'
'That's true, Professor,' Stern said. 'I brought you with me for two
reasons. One is that you may be able to provide historical information
that might help me. I know you're bursting at the seams to tell me your
theories about Rudolf Hess, and there is some of it I need to hear. But
first, let me explain how this is going to work. You want information
about what I think is going on in South Africa. Fair enough.
But you are going to have to earn it. You will answer my questions
about the Hess case now; then I will decide how much information to give
you in return. If you tell me things I do not already know, I'll reward
you in kind. But this is the only time we will discuss Rudolf Hess. Do
you agree?'
Natterman sat without speaking for nearly a minute. Then he cleared his
throat and said, 'What do you want to know?'
'Tell me about Hess and the British. Was there a pro-Nazi clique high
