'The Flfotea Hof is also a fine hotel, sir.' Salil glanced furtively at
his rearview mirror.
'The Protea Hof it is.'
While the taxi sped northward, Hauer peered out at the ultramodern
skyline of Johannesburg, the City of Gold. Dozens of brightly lit
skyscrapers towered above a dense network of elevated freeways.
Compared to this futuristic metropolis West Berlin looked like a sooty
hand-me-down.
South Africa looked nothing like what Hauer had expected.
Already he sensed the change in altitude, the huge expanses of space
around him.
'Sir?' Salil said, catching Hauer's eye in the rearview mirror.
'Yes?'
'Would you be interested to know that someone is following us?'
Hauer clutched Hans's shoulder to keep him from turning. 'Any idea who
it might be?' he asked calmly.
'Yes, sir. I believe they are British agents. They've been with us
since the airport.'
Hauer heard a sharp intake of breath as Hans slid down in his seat. 'And
how would you know that?' he asked.
'I saw many British agents in India,' Salil explained.
'I've seen that car at the airport many times before. The young man
driving it, though, I have not.'
Hauer rubbed his stubbled chin thoughtfully. Hans tried to turn around,
but Hauer restrained him. 'I've changed my mind, driver,' he said.
'We'll check into the Burgerspark after all.'
'Very good, sir.'
Hans opened his mouth to protest, but Hauer whispered: 'There's already
a room there in your name. We might as well let the kidnappers think
you're really staying there.
'Driver?'
'Yes, sir?'
'Could you lose that car after we check into the Burgerspark? I'd make
it worth your trouble.'
'Certainly, sir!' the Indian replied, foreseeing a very good tip
indeed. 'You are in most excellent hands!'
'The taxi climbed from the airport road onto the northbound side of
Highway 21-the left side of the road, Hauer noticed, as in England-where
a few lorries rumbled languidly toward Pretoria. Hauer wondered what he
and Hans would find in the capital city. Had Ilse Apfel really been
brought there? Or did she still wait somewhere back in snowbound
Berlin? Was she still alive? The professional in Hauer doubted it, but
some deeper part of him still held out hope. For Hans's sake, he
supposed. He flattened his palm against the taxi's window and felt the
heat. Strange, this sudden change of seasons, he thought. But he liked
it. He felt good, and he knew he would feel even better once he'd met
the enemy face to face.
'Thirty minutes to Pretoria, sir,' Salil sang out.
'No hurry,' Hauer lied, watching Hans carefully. 'No hurry at all.'
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
2.'45 A.m. The Northern Transvaal.
The Republic of South Africa Ilse awakened slowly, like a diver fighting
to the surface of a deep black lake. Finally aware, she found herself
in a bed, tucked beneath cotton bedcovers. She was naked.
Tacky residue from the tape that had bound her on the jet made the
sheets stick to her skin. She tried to remember how she had lost her
clothes, but could not. Her eyes darted around the room. The bedroom
was sparsely but expensively furnished: an antique bureau, a chair, an
end table, and the bed. No windows, just two doors-one half-open and
leading to a bathroom, the other closed. No telephone. Nothing offered
any clue as to where she was or what lay beyond the four walls.
Wrapping the blanket tight around her, she climbed out of the bed and
tried the closed door. It was locked. A moment later she found the
note. It lay on the teak bureau, weighted by a silver hand mirror.
Written in German on a small white card were the words: Frau Apfel,
Welcome to Horn House. Please make Yourself presentable. All will be
made clear at dinner Alfred Horn When Ilse saw her face reflected in the
hand mirror, she put a quivering finger to her cheek.
Her fine blond hair hung in lank, dirty strands, and her usually
luminous eyes looked gray and opaque beneath swollen lids. The shock of
seeing herself in such a state drove her into the adjoining bathroom.
Standing before a long mirror, she dropped the blanket from her
shoulders and saw the welts left by the tape. Her neck, wrists, and
ankles bore the angry red marks. Sudden panic wriggled in her chest;
gooseflesh rose like quills on her arms and thighs. There were other
marks too: deep blue bruises mottling her breasts and thighs. they
reminded Ilse of the times when she and Hans had made love mo rougmy,
except ... this was different somehow. She looked as though she had
been fighting someone. Had she-?
Oh God, she thought wildly, suddenly remembering. The lieutenant!
The arrogant animal who had exposed himself to her on the plane!
He had drugged her! Ilse remembered the needle lancing into her
immobilized arm. The possibility that she had been raped while
unconscious hit her in a hot, nauseous wave. Barely able to keep her
balance, she stumbled into the shower and cranked on the hot water until
it @early scalded. She scrubbed her skin raw while the steaming spray
obliterated her tears. Where was she? She had been airborne for a long
time, she knew that. Her entire body ached. she felt as though she had
slept thirty hours Or more. She vaguely remembered the plane touching
down-a jarring bump followed by murmured voices She did not
understand-but it had lifted off again and she'd slipped back into a
black void.
Rather than feel the hot water drain away slowly, Ilse shut it off
altogether and let the frigid spray shock her back to reality. She
screamed once, twice, but endured the icy torrent until her head pounded
from the cold. Shutting it off at last, she wrapped one towel around
her waist and used another to dry her hair.
In the bureau drawer she found some lotion, which she applied liberally
to her swollen wrists and ankles. The air in the bedroom felt strangely
