The German gave a hollow laugh, 'Cut out that American imperialist
lingo, would you, Colonel? It makes me nervous.'
Rose wasn't laughing.
2.05 A.m. The Natterman Cabin: Wolfshurg, FRG 'Professor, wake up!'
Hauer prodded the old man. 'Professor!'
Natterman moaned, then his eyes twitched open and his right arm shot
outward. 'Karl!' he shouted.
Hans grabbed his outstretched hand. 'Professor, it's Hans!
We're at your father's house.'
The old man's eyes focused at last. He pulled his hand free.
'Yes ... Karl is dead?'
'I'm afraid so,' said Hauer. He leaned over-the sofa where Natterman
lay and held up something shiny in his left hand. 'What do you make of
this, Professor?'
Natterman took the object a'nd examined it briefly. 'It's a gold
Krugerrand. Standard unit of currency in South Africa.
'Is it common?'
The professor shrugged. 'Thousands of Germans own millions of them, I
should think. On paper, of course.
'Is the coin common?'
'I wouldn't think so. Where did you get it?'
'Hans picked it up outside, standing watch.'
Natterman sat up. 'My God!'
'What is it?'
'The man who attacked me ... I remember now! I recognized his accent.
It was Afrikaans!'
'Afrikaans? What do you make of that?'
Natterman pursed his lips. 'I don't know. That man-the Afrikaner@arne
here to steal something, but I don't believe he knew exactly what he was
after until he actually saw the papers. He didn't seem to believe it,
even then.'
'An errand boy?'
'That was my impression. What time is it, Hans?'
'A little after tWO A.M.'
'Two! Don't let me fall asleep again. Is the telephone working?'
'Yes,' Hauer replied, 'but we haven't learned anything.'
He had tried in vain to reach Josef Steuben at Abschnitt 53.
And at Steuben's home he'd got only the men he'd sent to protect
Steuben's family. No sign of his friend.
'The apartment's empty,' Hans said anxiously.
'Ilse is all right,' Natterman assured him. 'You must believe that.
Even if someone has taken her, it's you they want.
They need her alive to draw you. They believe you will bring them what
they seek.'
Hans nodded. 'They're right.'
Natterman's eyes grew wide. 'Have you lost your senses?
The Spandau papers are much too important to be surrendered to anyone
like that.'
Hans glared balefully at the old man. 'I don't give a damn about those
papers, Professor. You'd better understand that now. I'd give them to
the devil himself to have Ilse here with us now.' His eyes narrowed
suspiciously. 'Where are the papers?'
Natterman looked hunted. 'They're ... in the bathroom,' he said.
'I'll get them.'
Hauer kept silent. His brain was spinning. Bruderschaft der Phoenix
... The gold Krugerrand and the Afrikaner accent-like the calls from
Prefect Funk to Pretoria-had dropped into place like two more tumblers
in the lock that protected Phoenix from the outside world.
But what did South Africa have to do with Germany? What did Pretoria
share with Berlin? Hauer was still puzz!ing over this when the klaxon
ring of the old telephone in the bedroom shattered his concentration.
Both he and Hans raced to the phone.
'It's Ilse!' Hans cried, grabbing for the receiver.
Hauer caught his wrist in a grip of steel. 'If it is, I'll give the
phone straight to you.' He lifted the receiver as the raucous bell
clanged for the third time.
Two hundred and forty kilometers away, locked in an interrogation room
of Abschnitt 53, Prefect Wilhelm Funk nervously eyed a technician who
sat before three Marantz PMD-430 tape recorders.
Each tape deck was wired directly into the transmitter of Funk's
telephone. Two contained recordings of Ilse Apfel's voice, recorded at
gunpoint reading a script authorrd by Pieter Smuts, the Afrikaner known
to Funk by the code name Guardian. The third deck maintained a constant
level of background noise to mask the ONI oFF switching of the primary
machines. Praying that the elaborate deception would work, Funk began
his performance.
'I wish to speak to Sergeant Hans Apfel,' he hissed, trying to mask his
distinctive growl.
'I know you, you bastard,' said Hauer.
Funk abandoned all pretense. 'I know you too, Hauer.
Fucking traitor. It's Sippenhaft for you, just like your friend
Steuben.'
Hauer closed his eyes, trying in vain to steel himself against the
anguish. He had sent a man to his death. He had made a widow and
orphans.
'If Apfel isn't on the phone in ten seconds,' Funk warned, 'I
disconnect. Beginning now. Ten, nine, eight ...'
Hans snatched the proffered phone. 'This is Sergeant Apfel.
Where is my wife?'
'Do not speak, Sergeant. In a moment your wife will read a prepared
statement. After-'
'Ilse!' Hans shouted. 'Ilse?'
'One more outburst like that, and this conversation will be terminated.
After your wife finishes reading, you may ask questions, but keep them
simple. She's a bit under the weather.'
Hans swallowed hard.
'Hans, listen to me-' He clenched the phone with all his strength.
Ilse's usually musical voice quavered with fear and'confusion, but he
knew the sound like his own breathing. He clapped his hand to his
