particularly nasty mischief on the night of May tenth 1941. In the
Oxford draft papers he is referred to as Helmut, but@' 'Another German
in England on 'Helmut?' Stern sat uP.
that night?' Natterman smiled cagily. 'The Oxford draft research
indicates that. However, I belive that 'Helmut' is simply a code
name-a, device that the Oxford historians are using to mask this
person's real identity. Never in my own research have I found anyone
named Helmut associated with the Hess case in any way.'
'You're not telling me you think 'Helmut' is a code name for the real
Hess?'
Natterman smiled triumphantly. 'In the Oxford papers 'Helmut' is
referred to as having had one particularly distinguishing
characteristic, Stern. I think it will interest YOU.'
'Well?'
'He had only one eye.'
Stern looked surprised, then thoughtful. 'That might tie in with our
tattoo,' he allowed. 'But I shouldn't think you'd be too happy about
it, since Rudolf Hess had two perfectly good eyes.'
Natterman raised a long forefinger. 'He did as of May tenth 1941.
But if Hess survived that night-as I believe he did-he had plenty of
time left to lose an eye. He might even have lost it on the very night
of his flight!'
'You should be writing movies, Professor. Do you know how many men lost
eyes in the Second world War? Do you plan to scour all Africa for a
one-eyed man, in the hope he will lead you to your fantasy Nazi?'
'We'll see how fanciful I am,' Natterman muttered.
'Why couldn't there have been a German named Helmut in England on that
night in May?' asked Stern.
'There could have been,' Natterman admitted. 'But there wasn't.
So-have I earned your half of the story?'
'Yes, Professor, I think you have. Just one more question, though. Were
there any Russians involved in the Hess case, as far as you know?'
'Russians?' Natterman was silent. 'In Hess's original mission?
None that I know of. But I'll certainly think about it.'
'Please do that. And please remember our deal when we get on the
ground. No fairy stories about Rudolf Hess in front of anyone. Talk
like that can make some Jews very upset.'
Natterman nodded solemnly.
'Attention ladies and gentlemen, ' demanded the loudspeaker.
'Please take your seats. We have been cleared for approach to
Ben-Gurion Airport.'
A collective sigh of relief went up throughout the plane.
Stern chuckled and touched Natterman's sleeve. 'I'm afraid my
contribution to this epic will have to wait for the second leg of our
journey.'
Natterman studied the Israeli's tanned, angular face. 'You said
information was the first reason you brought me with you, Stern. What
was the secondt' Stern looked away from the professor. When he looked
back, his eyes were dark and hara. 'Phoenix kidnapped your
granddaughter, Professor. You are her closest blood relative.
That makes you my direct line into Phoenix. I'm not sure how yet, but I
think you might just be my best weapon against them.'
Natterman leaned thoughtfully back in his seat as the pilot stretched
his holding pattern into a smooth approach and made a flawless landing
on the main runway. A security gate with metal-detection and X-ray
equipment awaited the deplaning passengers at the end of a long passage,
but when Stern presented his wallet to the senior security officer, he
and Natterman were waved throup-h.
'That's no small trick in this @o-untry,' Natterman said.
'Is it, Stern? What exactly did you do for a living before you
retired?'
Stern didn't answer. He was searching the concourse for something or
someone he apparently expected to find waiting.
'You must be with the Mossad,' Natterman guessed.
'That's it, isn't it?'
Stern kept watching the crowd. 'I go back a lot further than the
Mossad, Professor. You should know that.'
'Yes, but it's something similar, I'll bet. Something c unsavory.'
'Gadi!' Stern cried.
Suddenly the Israeli was moving across the concourse at great speed, not
running, but taking long strides that seemed to swallow distance
effortlessly. Natterman tried to pick out Stern's objective but
couldn't, until he reappeared out of the milling crowd with one arm
draped affectionately around a dark young man of about twenty-five.
'Professor Natterman,' Stern said, 'meet Gadi Abrams, my great-nephew.'
'My pleasure, Herr professor,' said the young man graciously, extending
a sun-browned hand.
'Guten Abend, ' said Natterman, turning to Stern. 'Is this one of the
'packages' we stopped to pick up?'
,Yes, Professor, one of three.'
Two smiling young men appeared from behind Gadi Abrams. They extended
dark-tanned hands to Natterman, nodded politely, then embraced Stern as
if they hadn't seen the older man for many months.
'Aaron,' said Stern, ',yosef-this is Professor Natterman of the Free
university of Berlin.'
The young men nodded courteously, but said nothing.
Both appeared to be about Gadi's age, if not younger, and both carried
canvas OVERNIGHT bags. Stern began walking down the concourse toward a
row of expensive restaurants, talking quietly to his nephew as he moved.
Natterman tried to keep close enough to the pair to overhear their
conversation. Aaron and Yosef padded along behind at a discreet
distance. Stern finally turned into a restaurant styled after a French
cafe-the only One open at this hour. He waved away a bald waiter who
started toward them with a sheaf of menus.
'What about the plane, Gadi?' he asked in Hebrew. 'How long?'
'You won't believe this, Uncle, but a fliiht leaves for Johannesburg in
ninety minutes.'
' 'Siz bashert, ' Stern breathed. 'it is meant to be. Nonstop?'
'One stopover. Athens.'
