Hans climbed in.
'You have the papers?' asked-the Zulu in broken German.
Hans nodded. 'Are you taking me to my wife?'
Without a word the Zulu started the engine and drove down the hill, then
swung the Range Rover onto R-28 and beaded into central Pretoria. He
drove until they intersected the N-1 freeway, then climbed into the
northbound traffic.
Hans looked blankly out the window as the suburbs gave way to gaudy
storefronts, liquor stores, and finally the government matchboxes of
black settlements outside the city.
Hans fingered the knife beneath his shirt. The thought of what the
kidnappers might do if they realized the diary was incomplete made his
bowels squirm, but what choice did he have? At least by acceding to
their demands he had gained a chance to try to explain the missing
pages. In the middle of some football stadium, with a dozen guns
sighted on Ilse and himself, anything could happen.
Suddenly Hans felt his throat tighten. Though he had been @ng straight
at the back of the Zulu's head, his conscious @d had only now registered
what his eyes were seeing.
Behind the Zulu's right ear-in plain sight-was the ominous design
sketched in the Spandau papers: the eye-the mark of Phoenix! Yet unlike
Funk's men, this tribesman wore no tattoo. The eye had been branded
onto his scalp with a red-hot iron! The ugly, whitish-pink keloid scar
chilled Hans's blood. He @tared, hypnotized by the mark.
What did it really symbolize? Follow the Eye, the Spandau papers had
charged. Yet it seemed to Hans that the eye was following him!
'How ... how far do we have to go?' he stammered, trying to keep his
anxiety in check.
The Zulu said nothing.
Hans touched the haft of the knife in his shirt. Obviously the black
man didn't intend to reveal anything about the upcoming rendezvous. Hans
forced his eyes away from the scar and concentrated on the road. The
shimmering highway stretched in a seemingly endless line across the
veld, toward a destination Hans could only pray would reunite him with
]Ilse. If the kidnappers were as hard as the land they now passed over,
he thought, their chances of getting out alive were small. He caught
himself wondering if he should have told Hauer the truth about the
rendezvous after all. Maybe Hauer could have pulled off the exchange.
Maybe ...
'Too late now,' he muttered.
'Bine?' the Zulu said sharply.
']Vichts!' Hans snapped. He tried not to stare at the branded eye as
the Range Rover droned on.
10:45 A.m. Horn House. The Northern Transvaal
Linah had set out a fine brunch in the enclosed garden near the
southwest turret of the estate. Subtropical fruit trees splashed
blossoms of color against the high stone walls.
Alfred Horn and his security chief sat together drinking coffee and
speaking quietly.
'And what of Captain Hauer?' the old man asked.
Smuts shrugged. 'I had four men at the Voortrekker to kill him, but he
never showed up.'
'Could he be following Sergeant Apfel?'
Smuts shook his head. 'He might try, but my driver will know if he
does. We'll have no problems from Hauer.'
Horn nodded.
'How long do you expect it will be before we hear something from the
Arabs? Three days? A week?'
'I've already heard,' Horn said casually, and took a sip of his coffee.
'Qaddafl himself called me an hour ago. He has accepted our terms. What
did I tell you, Pieter? If you want a job done quickly, hire a hungry
man. Prime Minister Jalloud will return tomorrow night with men to
transport the weapon.'
'Tomorrow night!' Smuts exclaimed. 'I had no idea it would be that
soon. Two hours ago I sent half my men back to then-tine.'
Horn smiled. 'That was a little premature, Pieter. But I shouldn't
worry. There will be no problems with the Libyans. And if there were,
I am confident that you-could protect us from that. You have had years
to prepare year defenses.'
Smuts looked uncertain. 'Did Qaddafl mention Major K?' Smuts nodded
suspiciously. 'Karami is planning some kind of double-cross. I'm
certain of it. I'd better make additional security arrangements.'
Horn smiled cagily. 'You might want to make some arrangements before
tonight, Pieter. I have the feeling we may need a few extra men.'
Smuts squinted curiously At his master. But before he could ask for
clarification, Lieutenant Jiirgen Lahr opened a sliding glass door and
marched toward the table. Horn eyed the tall German suspiciously, but
Smuts waved a greeting.
'Guten Morgen, Herr Oberleutiiant.' 'Guten Morgen! ' Luhr replied,
clicking his heels together smartly. He inclined his head first to
Horn, then Smuts.
'Sit,' Smuts commanded.
'Just a moment,' Horn interjected. 'Show me your mark, Herr
Oberleutnant.'
Instantly Luhr moved to the old man's wheelchair and leaned down so that
Horn could inspect the tiny tattoo behind his ear. Horn actually licked
his finger and rubbed the mark to make sure it was indelible. When he
was satisfied, he gave Luhr permission to sit down.
'Danke, ' said Luhr, taking a chair and sitting ramrod straight.
Horn stared at Luhr some time before speaking. His one flickering eye
lingered on the blond hair, the hard blue eyes, the trim figure and
classical features. He nodded slowly. The young policeman had sparked
something in his memory.
'Has your stay in our cell taught you some respect for orders?'
Luhr had prepared for this. 'Sir, I drugged Frau Apfel only for her
welfare, I assure you. She struggled so hard against her bonds that I
feared she might injure herself.'
Horn's single eye glazed like a chip of ice. 'There is no excuse for
insubordination! A man who disobeys orders is a threat to everyone
