the Messerschmitt, broken his ankle, and then, when a shocked and sleepy
Scottish farmer approached him, he had claimed to be Rudolf Hess-just as
he'd been ordered to do had the proper signal come.
Stern felt the breath leave his lungs in a rush. My God! he thought.
The double had not claimed to be Rudolf Hess! Not at first, anyway. He
had not given the farmer Hess's name, but another name-a name always
thought to have been a cover. But that was ridiculous, Stern realized,
because Rudolf Hess was the double's cover name! After his failure to
swallow the cyanide pill, after his bloodcurdling first-time parachute
jump, the confused pilot had given the farmer his real name. And his
real name was Alfred Horn!
Stuffing the Zinoviev book under his shirt, Stern snatched the broken
dinner fork from beneath his mattress and went to work on the door lock.
Thirty seconds later, he switched off the light and peeked outside. Two
soldiers wearing khaki uniforms and carrying South African R-5 assault
I'll guarded both ends of the dark corridor. Apparently the tive attack
held prompted Pieter'Smuts to post sentries against anyone who might
have leaked through his defenses.
Or perhaps, Stern thought desperately, perhaps Horn's Arab friends are
scheduled to return sooner than I thought. With his chest pounding, he
eased the door shut and slumped against it. He had to find a way out!
He knew exactly where he wanted to go, and it wasn't to the basement in
search of Frau Apfel's alleged nuclear weapon. Nor was it to the shrine
room telephone to call Hauer. All he could think about was something
Professor Natterman had reminded him of during the flight from Israel.
Something he had known for so long that he had forgotten it ...
Something about Rudolf Hess.
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
11.40 Pm. Horn House Hans and Ilse lay in darkness in the opulent main
guest room of Horn House. They left the light off, for they knew each
other better without it. Ilse's face, wet with tears, nuzzled in the
hollow of Hans's neck, Piled upon the tortures she had already endured,
killing Lord Granville had caused Ilse's brain to spin a protective
cocoon around itself. After a time, though, the barrier began to thin
and stretch. Whin it finally broke, the tears had come, and she began
to answer Hans's questions. His first was about the baby, and Ilse's
confirmation of what he had been too frightened to believe engendered a
deep and dangerous tension within him. His left hand stroked Ilse's
cheek, but his right fist clenched and unclenched at his side.
'Don't worry,' she whispered from the darkness. 'Herr Stern is going to
help us.'
Hans went still. 'Who?'
'Herr Stern. I thought you knew about him. He came here impersonating
Opa. He's come to help us.'
'What?' Hans rolled out of the bed, stumbled over to the wall and found
the light. 'Ilse, what have you done?'
She sat up. 'Nothing. Hans, my Oandfather is here in South Africa.
He's with your father in Pretoria. Herr Stern is working with your
father.'
Hans's eyes grew wide. 'Ilse, this must have been some kind of trick to
get you to talk! What did you tell them?'
'Nothing, Hans. I don't understand it all, but Herr Stern came here
wearing Opa's jacket, and the kidnappers plainly believe that he is my
grandfather.'
'My God. Where is my father now? Did this man Stern say?'
'He told me'that he left your father, Opa, and three Israeli commandos
at a hotel in Pretoria. They're waiting for instructions from Stern
right now.'
'Israeli commandos?' Hans felt as if he had stumbled into a madhouse.
'Where is Stern now?'
'I don't know. They were holding us together, but we split up when we
escaped.'
'Who is this Stern?' Hans asked irritably. 'How did he even become
involved?'
'He's an Israeli. He met Opa at the cabin in Wolfsburg.
He is a good man, Hans, I could feel it.'
'He told you he had commandos with him? How old a man is he?'
Ilse shrugged. 'Somewhere around Opa's age, I guess.'
'And this is the man who's going to get us out?'
'He's done more than anyone else.'
That stung Hans's pride, but he tried not to show it. If Ilse could
cling to her optimism, all the better. But might they really have a
chance? Had his father somehow managed to organize some kind of rescue?
'Ilse,' he said'softly. 'How can this man Stern help us?'
'I don't know,' she said thoughtfully. 'But I think he will.'
Jonas Stern closed the infirmary door and flattened himself against the
wall. His heart beat like mad as he waited for his eyes to adjust to
the darkness. The astringent tang of isopropyl alcohol and disinfectant
wrinkled his nose. He had been forced to wait almost seven hours before
the guards outside his room finally left their posts. He had no idea if
more would be sent to take their place, but he hadn't waited to find
out. Even in the dark he could make out the high-tech gleam of stainless
steel and glass. Hd eased forward.
After eight short steps, he felt for the interior doors he remembered.
Finding one cool metal knob, he turned it and hit the wall switch. He
saw an empty hospital bed, oxygen bottles, telemetry wires, a dozen
other gadgets. Wrong room. He killed the light and closed the door.
Sliding his hands up the facing of the second door, he found the warning
sign he remembered: three inverted triangles, yellow over black.
Radiation . Stern's pulse quickened as he opened the door and slipped
inside.
There was light here, the dim red glow of a darkroom safelight.
He moved quickly around the X-ray table to the file shelves. One way or
the other, he thought, here would be the proof. He reached into the
first compartment and pulled out a six-inch stack of
fourteen-by-seventeen manila folders.
Then he crossed to the viewing screens and hit the switches.
Harsh fluorescent light flooded the room. While the viewers buzzed like
locusts, be pulled an exposed X-ray film from the top file folder and
