tweed jacket. Smuts-who was nominally quite sensitive to subtleti of
human behavior-put Ilse's awkwardness down to surprise.
'I hope you both appreciate Herr Horn's generosity,' he said.
The words woke Stern from his trance. Instantly he registered the
dangerous bafflement on Ilse's face. Steady, girl, he thought. Steady
'Ilse!' he cried. 'My little Enkelkinder! Come to me!' He took a
step forward and held out his arms- Come on girl, get it.
Without quite understanding why, Ilse moved forward.
First hesitantly, then in apparent jubilation, she rushed to the
stranger and pressed her head against his jacket, clinging to him like a
child. She would never know why she did it. It was an impulse, a
tingling flash of inexplicable certainty like those that sometimes hit
her as she watched the stock quotes flickering across the toteboard at
work. She didn't question it, she simply obeyed.
'My little darling,' Stern said soothingly, stroking Ilse's cheek.
'Are you all right?'
'Yes, Opa, yes,' Ilse murmured. 'Can we go home now?'
'Not yet, little one. Not quite yet. But soon.'
Stern glared at Smuts over Ilse's blond hair. 'Could we have some
privacy?' he asked icily.
A tight grimace plucked,at the corner of the Afrikaner'S mouth, but he
left them.
Ilse immediately pulled away from Stern and opened her mouth to speak.
Stern stifled her with an upturned palm, then pointed to the door.
Who are you? Ilse mouthed silently.
Stern leaned over until his lips touched the shell of Ilse's ear.
'A friend,' he whispered. 'Thank God you managed to suppress your
shock. I believe you just saved my life.'
'It was the jacket,' Ilse whispered excitedly. 'You're wearing Opa's
jacket. At first I thought it was some kind of crazy trick, but-'
'No trick.'
'Where is Opa?'
'He is safe. He's with Captain Hauer.'
'And Hans? Is Hans safe?'
Stern nodded impatiently, as if Hans were merely a secondary problem to
be dealt with when and if possible. 'Hans is here now. He tried to
trade the Spandau papers for your life, but failed.'
Ilse's eyes widened. 'Hans is here?'
'Yes, but we can't worry about that now. If we don't figure out exactly
where we are and get me to a telephone, we'll probably be dead within an
hour.'
Ilse shook her head. 'You'll need an airplane to get out of here.'
'You know where we are?'
'Not exactly, but I've been outside. We're far out in the wilderness.
Near something called the Kruger Park, I think.'
'The Kruger National Park?' Stern looked at his watch, estimating the
distance he had traveled by road and by helicopter. 'Yes, that would be
about right.' His voice grew urgent. 'Ilse, I don't know how much you
know about the situation you are in. You may, like your grandfather,
see it as merely a squabble over the Rudolf Hess case, but much more
than that. I believe that somewhere in this country there are men who
mean to cause great harm to.my country-Israel. Damn it!' Stern cried
suddenly. 'What is hiding here? That bastard asked me if I had any
Jewish blood in my veins, aifd I-an Israeli-denied that I did!'
He threw the Zinoviev notebook onto the bed and tried the doorknob
again, shaking it furiously. Ilse reached out and clutched the sleeve
of her grandfather's jacket.
'You're right,' she whispered. 'About Israel.'
'What?' Stern turned to face her. 'What do you meant' 'I mean that
Horn wants to destroy Israel.'
Stern clutched her arms. 'How do you know that? Out with it, girl!
Speak!'
'You're hurting me!'
Stern released her. 'What are you talking about?'
Ilse brushed a strand of hair out of her eyes. 'Last night, Herr Horn
met with some Arabs up in the central tower of the estate. For some
reason he wanted me there, I don't know why. He offered to provide
these Arabs with a nuclear weapon@ne or more than one, I'm not sure. He
said he would provide it flee of charge if the Arabs would use it as
wished. He said there was a nuclear weapon somewhere beneath this
house.'
Stern swallowed hard, his eyes burning into Ilse's. 'Did you believe
him?'
She hesitated a moment; then she nodded very slowly.
'How did he say he wanted the weapon used?'
'He said he wanted it exploded inTel Aviv.'
Stern felt his bowels roll. 'When?'
'Within ten days, he said.'
Stern crossed to the bed and picked up the thin black notebook Horn had
given him. Again he read the gold letters stamped on the cover: V V
Zinoviev. Still the name meant nothing. He slipped the notebook inside
his shirt, backed against the far wall, and without a sound threw
himself across the room and against the heavy wooden door.
Ilse screamed.
The door didn't budge. Stern gasped for breath, backed up, charged
again. His wiry frame smashed into the wood with a sound like a child
falling down stairs. Ilse cringed.
Tlwice more the old Israeli flung himself at the door, but it refused to
give. Bruised and winded, Stern raised his right leg and kicked at the
knob with all his strength.
'It's no good!' Ilse cried. 'Please stop! You're hurting yourself!'
Stern did not even look at her. With a howl of rage he kicked at the
knob again. When it refused to yield, he backed up and launched his
body at the door yet again. This time the impact knocked him to his
knees. He got unsteadily to his feet and prepared to try again.
Ilse caught his arm, meaning to restrain him, but,when Stern whirled,
something in his eyes moved her into some region beyond logic, beyond
reason. She counted to three, and together they flung themselves
against the wood.
