Hood, Nancy, and Stoll were evacuated to the Osprey.
August and his French interpreter had set up command headquarters beside the cockpit. After receiving a report that the team had secured the first floor and was moving to the second floor, he introduced himself. Then his attention turned back to the interpreter, who was on the radio as the NATO team closed in on the executive suites.
Hood wanted to know if either team had found Dominique or Hausen, and he was desperate to talk to Rodgers. He was concerned about Herbert and wanted to know how he was faring. But it would have to wait. At least they were all safe.
Stoll had already made himself comfortable in the Osprey cabin. Hood was about to invite Nancy inside when a light appeared in the sky. It was star-small and moving east to west. Suddenly, it turned toward them and grew larger, accompanied by the distinctive beating of a helicopter rotor.
August also looked up.
'One of yours?' Hood asked.
'No,' he said. 'It could be the one that took off before we landed. We assumed some top-level instigators were getting out.' Suddenly, a Gendarmerie officer approached from the edge of the field. A man in shirtsleeves was draped over his shoulder.
'Sous-lieutenant!' the officer called to the interpreter.
He placed the groaning man on the ground beside the Osprey and talked with the Second Lieutenant. After several moments, the French officer turned to August.
'This man is a pilot, sir,' he said. 'He was warming up the helicopter for a M. Dominique when a blond man hit him.' 'Hausen,' Hood said.
The helicopter began to spiral down. It was obvious that it was falling now, not flying.
August told everyone to get down and cover their heads. Hood lay on top of Nancy, though August remained standing. The Colonel watched as the chopper leveled itself out at about two hundred feet, then pulled back toward the river.
August asked, 'Who's Hausen, Mr. Hood?' Hood stood. 'A German politician and a flier. He hates Dominique, the man behind all this.' 'Hates him enough to risk his life stealing a chopper?' 'More than enough,' Hood told him. 'I think Hausen would take himself out just to get Dominique.' 'Himself, the chopper, and everyone underneath,' August said. He continued to watch the helicopter. It swooped off to the north in an arcing climb, then leveled off again. 'I've seen this before, old rivalries getting out of control.' The Colonel turned to the interpreter. 'Are Manigot and Boisard still on the first floor?' The Second Lieutenant got on the radio and was given an affirmative. 'Still on cleanup, sir,' he said.
August said, 'Tell them to report back here at once.
You're in charge.' 'Yes, sir,' the officer said, saluting.
August looked up at the cockpit and moved his index finger in a circle, over his head. The pilot saluted and fired up the vertical engines.
'Colonel, what is it?' Hood asked.
August ran toward the stairs which led to the cockpit.
'Somebody wants that chopper to land and somebody else doesn't,' he said. 'If we don't get aboard it's going to do neither.' 'Get aboard?' Hood shouted.
But the two NATO commandos arrived quickly and climbed on board, and the thunder of the powerful engines precluded an answer. Stoll jumped out of the Osprey's cabin. Hood and Nancy backed away, and less than two minutes after the helicopter had first been sighted the huge VTOL was airborne.
CHAPTER SIXTY-EIGHT
The police car raced along the Autobahn at over one hundred miles an hour. Hauptmann Rosenlocher was looking to his left, past the driver, watching for any sign of activity.
He was running without a siren, the driver flashing his toplights briefly at anyone who happened to get in the way.
One man sat silently in the backseat. He wore the blue uniform of the Landespolizei. Along with his commander, he was watching the road.
Behind Rosenlocher's car were two other cars, designated Two and Three. Each one carried six men of his fifteen-man tactical force. Five of the men were armed with.30 M1 carbine rifles used for sniping. Five had HK 53 submachine guns. All.carried long-barrelled Walther P1 pistols. All were watching for the young woman and the man in the wheelchair.
The silver-haired, craggy-faced officer wondered if Richter had bought the bluff. Rosenlocher himself didn't have any experience in these PSYOPS, psychological operations. His expertise was in riot control and undercover operations. But General Rodgers assured him it had worked for one of his colleagues in a situation in 1976 involving the Croatian hijackers of a TWA jet over Paris. And what General Rodgers had said made sense. Most revolutionaries, especially new and insecure ones, could be convinced that there were traitors in their midst. Often, there were.
The officer's phone rang. 'Ja?' 'Hauptmann Rosenlocher, it's Rodgers. We've finally got all of you on satellite. Bob and the girl are about three kilometers north of you, headed toward the Autobahn. The neo-Nazis were stopped but now they're moving again. It'll be close as to who reaches them first.' The Hauptmann checked the odometer, then leaned toward his driver. 'Go faster,' he said softly.
The baby-faced driver grunted.
'Thank you, General,' said Rosenlocher. 'I'll call back the moment I have something to report.' 'Good luck,' said Rodgers.
Rosenlocher thanked him again, then peered ahead.
The shotgun was in a rack on the back of his seat. He reached around and grabbed it. His palms were as sweaty as always before he went into action. Though unlike most situations, he ached for this one to develop into 'a shooting war.' He cherished any excuse to strike at the brutes who wanted to destroy his country.
'A little bit faster,' he said to the driver.
The driver pursed his lips and leaned into the gas pedal.
The night sped by. The other cars sped up. And then he saw two pale figures amidst the dark foliage on the left side of the road. They ducked back quickly.
'That was one arm of Richter's team,' the Hauptmann said. 'I can smell those bastards at one hundred twenty miles an hour. Slow down.' The driver obliged. Seconds later, two people struggled from the woods. A man in a wheelchair with a young woman behind him.
'Stop!' Rosenlocher said.
The driver touched the brakes and pulled over as Rosenlocher picked up his radio. The other cars also slowed.
'Two and Three,' he said to the other cars, 'you see them?' 'We see them in Two.' 'We've got them in Three.' The Hauptmann said, 'Two, you cover the south flank.
Three, you pull up and take the north. I'll bring them in.' The three cars stopped twenty meters apart on the side of the road. The drivers remained behind the wheels as the police officers emerged on the passengers' sides. In the event of casualties, they would race to the hospital in Hanover. The officers in Two and Three moved south and north. In the dark, they set up a skirmish line behind the railing at the side of the road. If they or the Americans were fired upon, their orders were to shoot to kill.
Rosenlocher was the first one over the guardrail. He was less than thirty meters from the edge of the woods, where Bob Herbert and Jody Thompson were rushing to outrace their pursuers.
Rosenlocher raised the shotgun. He aimed at the area behind the woman where he saw movement.
'Come!' he called to Herbert.
Jody continued to push. She was panting and stumbling but she wasn't stopping.
Rosenlocher watched the others. He saw faces in the headlights as traffic passed. Young faces. Some were
