'And I must tell you, gentlemen,' Burton, added, 'I rarely miss what I
aim at.'
Hauer let go. Gadi reluctantly let his R-5 fall to the cabin floor.
'None of you need worry about the papers anyway,' said Burton, 'because
I am taking that briefcase with me.'
Hauer and Gadi gaped at the Englishman. Burton grinned.
'You didn't think I was down in that basement on vacation, did you? I
was sent to do a job. To kill a man. And after very name his double
gave when he parachuted into Scotland. How long would it take the
Mossad to figure that one out? A week? Yet the story has never been
made public. If what Stern said about Israeli/South African nuclear
agreements is true, I can see how the Israelis might have let him live.
Hess left Germany in the spring of 'forty-one, and most of the
atrocities weren't committed until much later.'
'That's not true!' Gadi argued.
'It is,' Ilse said softly. 'My grandfather told me that the real crimes
against humanity didn't happen until after Hess left Germany.'
'That's obscene!' Gadi shouted. 'You're crazy!'
'This is all terribly interesting,' Burton cut in, 'but I'm not much on
history.' He turned to Ilse. 'Let's have that case, love.'
'Take it!' Ilse cried. She hurled the briefcase at the Englishman.
Gadi tried to intercept it, but his wounded thigh prevented him.
The case landed at Burton's feet. 'Would you get that for me, Captain?'
he said to Hauer, keeping his gun trained on Gadi.
Hauer knelt and retrieved the case.
'Open it.'
The case was not locked. Hauer opened it and glanced inside. A thin
smile touched the corners of his mouth.
Gadi snatched the case. Burton made no move to stop him. The young
Israeli threw the case to the floor. 'Where are the papers!' he
demanded, his eyes on Ilse.
Ilse glared from one man to the other. 'Those papers have caused enough
pain! They should have been buried with the rubble of Spandau!
The whole sick business should be allowed to die!'
Gadi put his face in his hands. 'Oh God ... no.'
Ilse raised her chin defiantly and pointed toward the tail of the Lear.
'Yes,' she said. 'They're back there.' 'In the tail?' Burton asked
hopefully.
'In hell.'
Stern had shot three Libyans already, but he couldn't hold out much
longer. If the Libyans rushed him, he might be hit before he could
detonate the weapon. He simply couldn't afford to buy the Lear any more
time. Crouching low, he laid his rifle gently on the floor and took one
of the bright cop, wires in each hand.
'I want to talk!' cried a voice from the shadows.
'It's too late for talk!' Stern shouted back, the first verbal response
he had given the Libyans.
'Why do you fight me, Herr Horn?' Karami asked. 'Listen, please.
I know who you are. Deputy Fuhrer Rudolf Hess, yes? You visited
Tripoli in 1937, I believe. You have seen my people, sir. We have the
same goal, you and I-the destruction of the Jews. I was wrong to attack
you, perhaps, but I need all the weapons you have here. Speak to me,
please! Let me finish the job your Fuhrer gave to the Mufti of
Jerusalem! Please, Herr Hess. I do not understand your position!'
Stern laughed silently. 'Come forward, Major. You'll understand soon
enough.'
Karami considered this. 'All right,' he said at length.
'I'm coming! I am unarmed!'
Crouched behind the bomb casing, Stern watched the tall, black-mustached
Arab step from the darkness, his hands raised above his head. His onyx
eyes blazed with fierce passion.
'Herr Horn?' Karami asked, puzzled.
Stern raised a hand and pointed to the motionless heap lying just in
front of the bomb cart. 'There,' he said.
Karami's eyes searched the gloom until they settled on Hess. 'Who is
behind there?' he asked. 'Mr. Smuts? What happened here?'
'Allah took a hand in things,' Stern said.
For the first time, Karami noticed the masked corpses of the South
African commandos. Not far away he saw the body of Pieter Smuts. Then
his black eyes lifted, drawn by the gleaming cylinders behind which
Stern waited.
'So there are three,' he said, his voice shallow. 'I knew there had to
be more. I knew it.'
Stern waited in silence. In spite of what the X-rays had done to him,
he felt strangely awed by the knowledge that his life was now measured
in seconds. His mouth felt dry as sawdust.
'If Hess is dead,' Major Karami wondered aloud, 'and Mr. Smuts is dead
... who are you?'
Stern poked his head above the bomb casing. Then, slowly, he raised his
hands. The exposed copper wires glinted in the dim light.
With a weight like a cancer in his stomach, Ilyas Karami comprehended
what the wires meant. 'What do you want?'
he asked hoarsely. 'Do you want gold? Drugs? Diamonds?
For these weapons, my master will grant you a kingdom!'
Stern crouched lower. He prayed to God the Leet was well away by now.
'Why do you consider this mad thing?' Karami asked, genuinely puzzled.
'You want to die? You want to be a martyr? Martyrdom is for the sons
of Allah, my friend, not good Christians. For rescuing these weapons
you will be a hero in my nation! Come out from there and let me make
you the richest man in the world! Come out and tell me who you are.'
Stern laughed. The sound was brittle as a voice from the grave.
'We're both martyrs, Major. Isn't it funny how that works out?'
His face hardened. 'I'll see you in the afterlife, my Arab friend.
Shalom.'
In one terrible instant Ilyas Karami realized that the man facing him
across his coveted weapons was a Jew. From the hot core of his being he
screamed a curse of pure hatred at his lifelong enemy, at the same time
jerking out the pistol he had hidden in the belt behind his back.
But at that moment Hess jerked up from the floor and clutched at the
