forehead in relief, then balled it into a fist as the torment went on:
'... the men who are holding me require only one thing in exchange for
my freedom-the papers you discovered at Spandau. The papers belong to
them. You have illegally stolen their property. Restitution is all
that they seek. I do not know where I am. If you follow the
instructions you are given exactly, we will be reunited. If you deviate
from these instructions in any way, they will kill me. These men
possess a machine which can detect whether photocopies of a document
have been made. If copies have already been made, important them now and
bring all copies to the rendezvous. If you deny that copies have been
made, but their machine proves otherwise, I will be shot. Follow every
order exactly.
They . . . ' At this point Ilse's voice broke. She sobbed and spoke at
the same time. 'I saw them kill a man, Hans ... a policeman.
They killed him right in front of me. They cut his throat! ' In
Berlin, the technician stopped the first tape machine.
Ilse's sobs seemed to fade into the familiar hiss of a poor
long-distance connection.
Hans could restrain himself no longer. 'Ilse, they can have whatever
they want! Tell them! The papers! Anything!
Just tell me where to bring them!'
'Have any copies of the papers been made?' Funk asked.
Hans turned to Professor Natterman, who had appeared in the bedroom
door. 'Did you make any copies of the papers?'
Natterman saw a mental image of his Xerox machine flashing in his
darkened office, but he banished it from his mind. 'No,' he said,
looking straight into Hans's eyes, 'I didn't have enough time.'
'There are no copies,' said Hans, his eyes still on the old man.
'Noted,' said Funk. 'Now, listen carefully to your instructions.
Write them down. Error or delay will not be tolerated.'
Hans snatched a pen and notepad from Hauer, who had anticipated the need
and procured the items from Professor Natterman's book satchel. Across
the top of the pad Hauer had scrawled: Stay calm.
Agree to everything they ask.
'Drive to Franlkfurt tomorrow morning,' Funk began.
'There you will board the first available'flight to Johannesburg, South
Africa. Your final destination is Pretoria. It's forty miles north of
Johannesburg, but shuttle buses run constantly.' Hans scribbled as fast
as he could. 'Your wife informs us that you have no passport, but this
will not be a problem if you use the South African Airways counter. Do
you have that?'
'South African Airways,' Hans said breathlessly.
'Your flight leaves at two Pm. Once in Pretoria, check into the
Burgerspark Hotel. Any taxi driver can take you to it. A suite will be
reserved for you. At eight Pm. you will be contacted and issued
instructions as to how to exchange the papers for your wife.' Funk's
voice went cold. 'If you are not in your room at the Burgerspark Hotel
by eight Pm. on the day after tomorrow-with the Spandau papers-your
wife will die. That is all, Sergeant.'
'Wait! My questions!'
There was a long silence. 'Two questions,' Funk said finally.
Hans swallowed. 'Liebchen, are you all right?' he stammered, not
knowing what else to say.
In Berlin Funk held up his index finger. The technician pressed the
PLAY button on machine 1. 'Yes,' came Ilse's quavering reply.
'Have they hurt you in any way?'
This time Funk raised two fingers. 'No, ' Ilse seemed to answer.
'Don't be afraid,' Hans implored, trying to keep his voice steady.
'No matter what. I'm going to get you back-'
'That is all, Sergeant,' Funk said sharply.
'Don't hang up! Please-please let me speak to her again.
I'm going to do everything you ask!'
While Hans pleaded, Funk held up two fingers. His assistant
fast-forwarded to a preset location on tape 2 and depressed PLAY one
last time. Ilse's voice burned down the wires, cracking with emotion.
Her words were an anguished cry of hope and despair captured during the
session at the point of Luhr's Walther. She had screamed them after
seeing Josef Steuben murdered, believing that she would be killed
herself when her taped statement was completed. Luhr had added it to
the programme himself-the perfect diabolical touch.
'Oh God, Hans!' she wailed. 'We did it! I'm going to have a baby! '
She broke into sobs again.
Hans's mouth went dry. For a moment he stood speechless, his face a
graven image of horror. Then he howled from the depths of his soul.
'You fucking swine! I'm coming for her! If she's harmed you'll die
like pigs under the knife so help me God!'
Funk grinned, pleased by the suffering of the young man who had caused
him so much trouble. 'Tell Hauer,' he growled, 'tell him to remember
Sippenhaft.'
The line went dead.
With shaking hands Hans set the receiver back in its cradle and turned
to Natterman. 'They have her,' he said hoarsely. 'And they want the
Spandau papers. Where are they, Professor?'
'Hans,' Natterman said uncomfortably, 'you can't make such a decision in
a fit of anger. You must take time to think.'
. Hans's eyes had glazed. His mouth worked silently. 'Just give me the
papers,' he said finally.
With a desolate sigh the old historian dug the foil packet from his
trouser pocket and turned it slowly in his hand.
'They killed another policeman,' Hans said in a robotic voice.
'Ilse said they cut his throat right in front of her.'
Hauer's big hands were balled into fists.
Hans reached out to Natterman for the papers, but as he did a simple,
terrible realization struck him. The men who had kidnapped Ilse were
the same men who had gouged the Star of David into Erhard Weiss's chest
with a screwdriver.
His stomach clenched in agony. Never until this moment had he known
true fear.
Hauer's lips had begun to tremble. His jaw muscles flexed furiously.
