in took a drag from his cigarette. He had noticed the accent.
'You are Captain Hauer, I take it?'
Hauer nodded- 'Who are you?'
Borodin smiled, revealing a dazzling set o . f Swiss dental :'Once
again, Captain, which of you has the papers?' 'How did you find us?'
Gadi asked, stalling.
Borodin laughed softly. 'A fat Kripo detective named Schneider lead me
right to you. I assume he's a friend of yours.'
Yes darkened in confusion.
Borodin smiled. 'Of course the detective is dead now, Captain.
As you will be if you don't give up the papers.'
'I told you before, we don't have them.'
Borodin's smile stretched to a grimace. He called one of the gorillas
back from the bathroom and barked several phrases at him in rapid
Russian. Of the captives, only Aaron Haber-the son of a Lithuanian
Jew-understood the exchange, but the color draining from his face told
the others all they needed to know. The big Russian jerked Aaron away
from the curtained window and kicked his legs out from under him. When
the young Israeli tried to rise, the Russian locked a thick forearm
around his neck and pressed the barrel of a silenced Browning 9mm pistol
into his ear.
'The foreplay is over, gentlemen,' Borodin said. His voice had not
risen a single decibel, yet it had lost all trace of humanity.
Everyone in the room knew that the Russian would not hesitate to order
Aaron's execution. Yet the young commando made no sound. He left his
fate entirely in the hands of Gadi Abrams, who had been designated
senior officer by Stern just before he left to rendezvous with the
kidmappers.
'At the risk of sounding melodramatic,' Borodin went on, 'I'm going to
count to five. If I do not have the Spandau papers when I reach that
number, my loyal assistant will transform this young man's brain into
kosher caviar.'
'We don't have them,' Hauer said again.
Borodin counted quickly. 'One, two, three, four-'
'Stop !'
Professor Natterman cried, surprising everyone.
'In God's name stop! Listen to me, you barbarian! Hauer is telling the
truth. Hans Apfel has the ori inal diary. Most of it, anyway. The Jew
who left here a few minutes ago has the rest. My granddaughter has been
kidnapped. We've come to exchange the papers for her life. Surely even
you can understand that?'
Borodin stared at the historian. 'How does that help me, old man? I
need results, not excuses.'
'There is a copy,' Natterman explained. 'A copy of the@ papers.
Photographs. You're Russian, correct? If you want to expose the truth
about Rudolf Hess, that's all you need.'
Natterman pointed across the room at Hauer. 'He has them.
I'm sorry, Captain, those papers mean far more to me than to you, but
they're simply not worth this boy's life.'
Hauer stared at the old man with incredulity. This did not sound at all
like the fame-obsessed professor he had com( know.
Borodin raised the MP-5 to Hauer's face. 'The photographs, Captain.'
Hauer didn't move.
'Kill the Jew,' Borodin said calmly.
'Bastard,' Hauer muttered. He jerked the envelope from his hip pocket
and tossed it onto the bed.
Borodin held the negatives up to the overhead light, examined them
briefly, then slipped them into his inside coat pocket. 'I assume that
none of you know the location of the people to whom your friend is
trading the original papers?'
'That's right,' Natterman said.
Borodin chuckled. 'I thought not. If you did, this wonderful little
commando unit wouldn't be sitting on its collective ass in a hotel
room.'
In spite of the gun at his temple, Aaron cursed and tried to lash out at
the Soviet agent. Borodin stepped aside and called to one of the
residency men, 'Dmitri! Leave their weapons, but take their
ammunition!'
Two minutes later Borodin stood smirking in the foyer, 'flanked by his
gorillas. The Russian who had not been wounded held a pillowcase
weighted with Uzi ammunition clips, boxes of shells, and loose .22
rounds.
'This soiree is over, gentlemen,' Borodin said. 'I'll take my leave
now.' He accented his farewells with a broad flourish of his hand. 'Do
svidamya! Shalom! Auf Wieders.ihen!' Borodin burst into laughter,
then motioned for one of the gorillas to open the door.
The moment the Russian holding the pillowcase turned the doorknob, the
door burst open and knocked him back ward against his wounded comrade.
From the window, Hauer gaped as the back of the wounded man's head
exploded.
The second Russian groped at his belt for his pistol, but two bullets
hit him low in the stomach and severed his spinal cord. While Borodin
backpedaled out of the foyer and spun toward the window. Hauer and the
Israelis dropped to the carpet as slugs from his MP-5 peppered the bed
and the wall - and the ceiling. Hauer looked up just as two bright red
flowers blossomed on Borodin's shoulders.
Hauer and Gadi were on their feet by the time Borodin's body hit the
floor. Standing in the doorway, his shoulders stretching from post to
post, was a very large man holding a Walther pistol in his hand. A gray
hat was pressed down over his bloody head, and a brass gorget plate hung
from his neck. On it was a capital K, the emblem of the Berlin
Kriminalpolizei.
'Captain Hauer?' Schneider said.
Hauer stepped forward and nodded.
Schneider put his gun in his pocket. 'I need to talk to YOU.'
Gadi Abrams crouched over Borodin, who lay pale and shaking on the
carpet. He rifled Borodin's pocket for' Hauer's envelope, found it, and
tossed the negatives to Hauer. Then he leaned down over Borodin's face.
'Where is your sniper?' he shouted. 'Where!'
