uninformed would inquire. The grasp of the reclusive president and CEO
of Phoenix AG Corporation was known to be very long indeed.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
1.35 A.m. Near Woltsbarg, FRG 'That's it!' Hans cried, whipping his
head around for a better look. 'You passed it!'
Hauer hit the brakes. 'That's what you said two minutes ago.
'I'm sure this time.'
Reluctantly, Hauer shifted the Jaguar into reverse. 'Why here?
It's just another break in the trees. Another dead-end road in the
dark.'
'No. This is the place. We're between two hills. And that low bridge
back there ... This is it.'
Hauer released the clutch pedal and backed the car into position to
turn. The Jaguar shot forward. He accelerated down the winding drive
at twice the speed Natterman had, squinting ahead through the darkness
for any sign of an occupied dwelling. 'I don't see any lights,' he said
skeptically.
'Maybe they're sleeping.
jus Hauer looked across at Hans. 'Your wife has ' t escaped from the
KGB, she has no idea where you are, and you think she's sleeping-'
'Watch out!'
Hauer slammed his boot down on the brake just as the Jaguar broke into
the small clearing around the cabin. The car hit a sheet of ice, spun
360 degrees and skated toward the building. It crashed into the trunk
of a plane tree just meters from the porch, crumpling the Jaguar's
offside wing. The motor died, but the headlights still shone off into
the darkness to the right of the cabin.
'This better be the place,' Hauer mumbled, shaking his head to clear the
fog of impact.
Hans stuck his head through the shattered passenger widow and compared
what he saw to his mental image of his wife's family retreat.
'This is it,' he said quietly. He turned to Hauer. 'Why were you
driving so goddamn fast!'
Hauer bit back a sharp retort. He half-expected them to find the bloody
remains of Ilse and her grandfather inside the cabin. 'Just knock on
the door,' he said evenly.
Hans muttered angrily as he struggled with the unfamiliar door handle,
not even trying to conceal his exasperation.
Ilse!' he shouted. 'It's me, Hans!'
Just as Hans popped the door open, it hammered him back into the car. He
did not even hear the booming explosion that resounded through the
forest.
'Get down!' Hauer bellowed. His warning was lost as the front
windshield shattered in a storm of flying glass.
'Shotgun, Hans! Down!'
Hans had hunkered down on the floor when a third blast shredded the
leather upholstery above his head. The fourth missed the Jaguar
altogether. Hauer grabbed his Walther from beneath the seat and jerked
back the slide.
'Wait!' Hans pleaded, grabbing his arm. 'Ilse wouldn't know this car!'
He kicked open the shot-riddled door. 'Ilse!
Professor! It's Hans!' This time he saw the fire leap from the
muzzles. The twin barrels exploded simultaneously, shearing off the
frozen branches hanging low over the car.
Hans ducked behind the Jag's door. 'Professor! Your father Alfred was
a blacksmith! He built this house in 1925! You helped him make the
nails!'
Silence.
Now you're thinking,' Hauer said.
The splintered cabin door creaked open slightly. 'Hans?'
rasped a voice almost too weak to hear. 'Hans, is that you?'
'Don't shoot, Professor! I'm coming out!'
Gingerly he raised his hands above the car door and waved. Then he put
a foot onto the packed.snow and slowly raised himself into Natterman's
line of sight.
'I can't see you!' Natterman called. 'Step into the light!'
Painfully aware of the loaded weapon pointed at his chest, Hans eased
forward into the twin beams.
'Hans.' The voice was louder now, the relief in it obvious. 'Are you
alone?'
'No! I have .. .' He looked back at Hauer in the Jag. 'I have my
captain with me!'
There was a long pause. 'Do you trust him?'
For the hundredth time that night, Hans examined his feelings about his
father. Did he trust him? Hauer could just as easily be a member of
the fanatical societies whose meetings he described as- No!
Hans slammed that door shut in his mind. If Dieter Hauer could
contemplate killing a brother officer and kidnapping his own son's wife,
the whole world had turned upside down.
'I trust him!' he called.
Hinges screeched as Natterman pushed open the cabin door. He slumped to
his knees. 'All right,' he croaked, 'that's . . .' The old man fell
flat on his face, his empty shotgun beside him.
Hans sprinted up onto the porch and bent over him. Hauer stayed in the
Jaguar, his Walther extended, covering the porch and the clearing as
best he could.
'Professor!' Hans cried, shaking him roughly. 'Where is Ilse?'
'I got him,' the old man mumbled. 'I think Hans slapped him.
Then again, harder. He saw crusted blood around Natterman's disfigured
nose, but he had too much at stake to wait. 'Where is Ilse, Professor?
Where is Ilse? Did the people who attacked you take her?' Hans turned
to the open door. 'Ilse!'
'Not ... not here,' Natterman mumbled. 'Home, I think.
Yes.' His voice gained strength. 'She's at the apartment, Hans.
Coming here later. Tried to call, but .
'Oh God.' Hans shivered as the implication of Natterman's ramblings
struck him. 'Oh no. Captain! Help me get him into the house!'
Hauer scrambled out of the car. He backed up onto the porch, keeping
the pistol pointed at the woods as he moved.
