unmistakable-an automatic pistol being cocked.
As if controlled by the same brain, Jonas Stern and Robert Stanton
whirled toward the sound. Stern glimpsed a swatch of blond hair in the
shadows; then the muzzle flash blinded him.
Five in a row, very fast. The first shots went wild, but the last two
snatched the Englishman off his feet and drove him through the picture
window, shattering the panes into a thousand glittering razors.
Stern dropped to the floor. The blond hair he had seen told him one
thing: Peter Smuts had arrived to save his master.
As Stern peered through the darkness, trying to pick out the Afrikaner,
the study door burst open and the overhead lights flashed on. What
Stern saw next stopped the breath in his lungs. Ilse Apfel stood rigid
at the center of the room, a smoking pistol clenched in both hands. She
was the blond who had saved Horn from his would-be executioner! Pieter
Smuts bounded across the room and tackled her, one hand immobilizing the
pistol as he knocked her to the floor. She went down without a sound.
The Afrikaner came to his feet almost instantly, scanning the room for
his master.
'Pieter,' cried a weak voice. 'Behind the sofa.'
Smuts darted to the old man and fell to his knees. 'Are you hit?'
'What ... ? No. You saved me, Pieter.'
'Linahi' Smuts shouted. 'Get the doctor!'
Stern heard footsteps scurrying down the hall.
Only now did Smuts notice the broken window. Stanton's mangled corpse
lay half in and half out of it, his lifeless eyes turned upward, open to
the rain. The Afrikaner's mouth dropped open in wonder as he realized
what must have happened.
'Thank God you arrived, Pieter,' Horn mumbled. 'The swine meant to kill
me. I didn't think he had it in him.'
Watching Ilse closely, Smuts righted the wheelchair, lifted the old man
into it, then crossed the study and pulled Ilse to her feet.
She looked no more alert than she had when Smuts bowled her to the
floor. The Afrikaner led her gently over to Horn.
'Sir, when I got here I saw Frau Apfel standing over there with a pistol
raised. It was she that saved you.' Smuts made a sudden sound of
astonishment. 'It's my Beretta! By God, she shot Lord Granville with
my bloody Beretta!'
Ilse's face remained expressionless, but Horn's eyes began to shine. 'I
knew it, Pieter,' he said triumphantly. 'She couldn't stand by and
watch me die. She is a true German!'
Horn rolled his chair forward and took Ilse's hand. 'Did you kill Lord
Granville, my child?'
Ilse said nothing.
'She's in shock,' Horn murmured, shaking his head. 'It is a miracle,
Pieter. Fate brought this woman here to me.'
While appreciative of Ilse's actions, Smuts would not have carried the
praise so far. 'Sir,' he said carefully, 'it appears to me that Frau
Apfel acted purely by reflex. She was trying to escape. She saw a
murder about to be committed; she fired blindly to prevent it. I don't
think we should attach more significance to it than that.'
Ignoring Smuts, Horn squeezed Ilse's hand in his own.
'My child,' he said softly, 'by your action tonight you not only saved
my life, but your husband's also.'
'But sir!' Smuts protested. 'Think what you're saying.'
'Silence, Pieter!' Horn exploded. 'I want half a million rand
transferred to the Deutsche Bank in Berlin, under Frau Apfel's name.'
He smiled at Ilse. 'For the child,' he said.
'Pieter told me that you are pregnant, my dear.'
Smuts stared incredulously at his master. This was insane.
He had never seen the old man make decisions based on sentimentality.
Somehow, the Apfel woman had acquired a dangerous amount of influence
over Alfred Horn, and that influence was obviously growing. A tragic
accident might soon be required.
A sudden roar from outside rattled the shattered window.
From his position by the hidden door, Stern saw a line of tracers arc
out toward the rim of the bowl.
'What of the attack?' Horn asked.
'The house is secure,' Smuts said tersely.
'And Oberieutnant Luhr?'
'A good man. That's him firing the Vulcan.'
Horn smiled. 'I imagine your little toys came as something of a
surprise to Robert's friends. eh?'
Smuts grinned nastily.
'Do you know who they are yet?'
'We'll round up the bodies tonight. Then we'll see.'
Horn nodded, then turned to Ilse and spoke softly. 'Pieter will take
you to your husband now. A matter of minutes. Do you hear me, child?'
Motionless until now, Ilse suddenly began to shiver. A single tear
streaked her face. She looked as if she might collapse.
'Take her now, Pieter,' Horn commanded. 'Schnel 'Sir!' The Afrikaner
snapped into motion.
Realizing that he had only moments to reach safety, Stern ducked back
into the shrine room and reached for the telephone. He was about to
punch in the number of the Protea Hof when he heard a voice coming from
the phone. His throat tightened in disbelief. Who could it be?
One of Smuts's soldiers? Did it really matter? Closing his palm over
the mouthpiece, Stern stuck his head back through the little door.
He saw the Vulcan's bright red tracer beam climb the distant ridge,
searching out more victims. Horn, too, had wheeled his chair around to
watch. The tracer beam jinked back and forth beyond the dark horizon,
steadied a moment, then lurched into the sky. For an instant the end of
the deadly arc became visible-then it detonated in a huge fireball.
The shock wave blasted a sheet of rain and glass into the room.
Several shards fell onto Horn's lap, but the old man didn't seem to
notice. He reached for a button on the arm of his wheelchair, preparing
to turn. Stern hunkered down, hoping to see the gray face once more in
the light. He heard the hum of the wheelchair's electric motor, saw the
face in profile-then his survival instinct overrode his curiosity. He
scrambled back into the secret room and pulled the door shut behind him.
