Spandau Phoenix (58 page)

The smell of treason had hung in the room like cordite. As the two men spoke in measured tones, Hess had realized that Himmler's office was, in every sense of the word, a battlefield. In the narrow confines of four walls, words became bullets, names flashed like tracers, and the silences were mined as lethally as the sands around Tobruk. Himmler had claimed that the British would never make peace with Hitler, but might make peace with Germany if he himself sat in the seat of power.

Then-as Hess's rage boiled over-Himmler had disguised his power grab by claiming it would be a mere strategy to trick the British into making peace. Hess had not been fooled. Behind Himmler's bland face and pince-nez glasses, Hess had glimpsed a power lust more sickening than the greed of any Jew. He had left the Prinz-Albrechtstrasse with no doubt that Heinrich Himmler was a traitor. Goring had been very different, if The conversation wi only in terms of style. Himmler had begun his interrogation on an obscure pretext, and arrived at his main point only after circumlocuting a veritable maze of half-truths and theolike the fighter nes-Goring charged in with guns blazing, ace he was. in substance, however, Goring's assessment of the British position had been remarkably close to Himmler's-no peace with Germany, ever.

Unlike Himmler, though, the corpulent Luftwaffe chief had not suggested treason. Hess recalled Goring's last words with grudging admiration: If the Fuhrer wants to invade Russia now, it is our duty to stand by him to the end, whether the reward be ambrosia or cyanide.

It's war now, Hess, war to the bloody end!

Yet Goring's opinion of Germany's future had been plain to see.

He had pronounced Hess's intended peace mission to England suicidal, then declared that if HitIfr attacked Russia before finishing Britain, all was lost. Hess thanked God that

nded on

the @iihrer was in good health. If the future depe men like Himmler and Goring, the Fatherland was indeed lost.

"Rudi?" said a soft voice. e doorway of the Hess turned quickly.

Silhouetted in the study, Adolf Hitler stood watching him intently.

Hess tried to read the black eyes, but they were, as ever, inscrutable.

Regarding Hess from the door, Hitler felt a strange, almost paternal sadness. Hess's broad shoulders, strong jaw, and high Aryan forehead fanned the flames of pride in his breast. The resolute eyes looked back at him with a frankness that seemed to say, "I am ready for anything!

Command and I shall obey!"

But was Hess ready for anything? Was he ready for Plan Mordred?

Explaining the operational details of the mission would be easy.

Hess would admire the plan for its boldness and intricacy. Technical details fascinated him. But the rest"My Fuhrer," Hess said abruptly, "I am curious about something. It's been two weeks since I informed you of Reichsfiihrer Himmler's seditious conversation, yet nothing seems to have been done. Are you delaying punishment for some reason?"

Hitler smiled wanly. "Remember the old proverb, Rudi?

Better the devil you know than the one you don't?"

"But Himmler could betray you at any moment!"

Hitler sighed. "Sooner or later, Rudi, he will probably try.

it is a delicate balancing act I perform. It has @en from the beginning. It's the same for ill men of power. Churchill, Stalin, Mussolini, Roosevelt-no one is immune. Himmler's SS is powerful, old friend, too powerful to alienate or ignore. But it is also corrupt.

Himmler fears Heydrich-his subordinate-yet he thinks because Heydrich has a little Jewish blood, he can be controlled by blackmail."

Hitler's eyes flickered like black stars. "Don't worry, Rudi, I have my own controls over Reichsfiihrer Himmler. His personal adjutant happens to be Heydrich's man, and Heydrich is my man. One word from me, night or day, and Himmler dies.

But for the present-while he is useful-he lives."

Hess looked unconvinced.

"I expected it to be Goring," Hitler confided. "I always thought him weaker than Himmler."

Hess nodded. "I must confess that I thought-I hoped@ the same thing. I never liked Goring. He's a braggart . and a libertine. But he is also loyal. For the time being, at least."

You're so straightforward, old friend, Hitler thought. Perhaps that is why I trust you. Heydrich explained it all so well, made it seem so easy and mechanical But in truth it isn't. The English fanatics who will die afterfiring bullets into the brains of their leaders mean nothing. They are ma chines, like tanks or rockets. But you, Hess, are the closest thing to a friend I have left. How can I explain to you that the same rules which apply to five communist fanatics also apply to you? Yet somehow I must. For England must be neutralized.

Churchill must die.

And contrary to what Heydrich boasts, failure is always a possibility.

in the event-God forbid-that something does go wrong, my personal envoy and confidant cannot be captured on British soil. For in your head you carry the secrets of BarbarossaIf the "impossible" happens-if the fanatics miss their targets, if they lose their nerve, if they're caught, if the mission is blown and the great gamble is all for nothing-my messenger will I have to die. You, Hess, will have to die.

And, quite simply, there will be no one there to kill you. No Reinhard Heydrich-no steely-eyed SS officer sworn to shoot without question at my order You will have to do it yourself. Can you do that, I wonder?

You once proclaimed to @a multitude that I, Adolf Hitler, was GermanyWill You die for Germany, old friend? Will you die for me?

With his right hand on Hess's powerful shoulder, Hitler looked deeply into the bright, worshipful eyes. "Rudi," he said softly, "there are two possibilities One hour later Rudolf Hess rose and marched to the door of the study. He turned and placed his right fist against his heart. "My Fuhrer," he said, "to die for Germany is no more than we ask of any soldier. In the most extreme circumstance I shall sacrifice myself with an unfaltering heart. My only regret is for my wife and son." Hess paused for a moment, too full of emotion to speak. "Yes,"

he said at leng , "even they would understandDeutschland fiber Alles: these words are our creed."

Hess took a deep breath and squared his shoulders. "Do not let this trouble you, my Fuhrer-We were never meant to fight the English, and this is the solution Fate has provided us. You, Adolf Hitler, were sent by God to free the world from the scourge of the Bolshevik and the Jew!

I believe that with all my heart. if my death were to bring our goal one day closer, my life would not have been wasted. But I shall not fail." Hess nodded solemnly. "I await your final orders.

Hell Hitler!" aliment. The Hitler felt a numbing jolt of profound lull

sight of Rudolf Hess, tall and resolute, his hard-muscled

right arm extended in the Nazi salute, moved him almost to tears.

This man, born to wear the German uniform, possessed a devotion far deeper than loyalty, deeper than patriotism. As Hess turned and marched through the study door, Adolf Hitler, his hands resting on the plans for the world's youngest imperial city, realized that he had not asked the ultimate sacrifice of his deputy or his friend-but his disciple.

B 0 0 K TWO TH AF d If ... the Jew conquers the nations of this world, his crown will become the funeral wreath of humanity, and once again this Janet, empty of mankind, will move p rough the ether as it did thousands of years ago.

Eternal Nature inexorably revenges the transgressions of her laws, Therefore, I believe today that I am acting in the sense of the Almighty Creator-' BY warding off the Jews I am fighting for the Lord's work.

ADOLF HITLER, Mein KaMPf

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

2.04 A.m. Lufthansa Flight 417. South African Airspace

The German airliner shuddered against the increased drag of descent'

Hans Apfel took a deep breath and gripped the armrests tighter. The announcement bell rang.

"Attention ladies and gentlemen," said a male voice.

"This is your captain speaking. We are now beginning our descent into Jan Smuts International Airport. We expect to arrive on schedule.

The temperature is seventy-eight degrees Fahrenheit in Johannesburg.

There's been no rain for two weeks, and none expected soon. We hope, you enjoy your stay in South Africa, and we appreciate your flying Lufthansa. Danke Schdn."

"Nice change," Hauer remarked.

"What?" said Hans.

"The weather."

"What?"

"It's summer here, Hans. No snow. We've hardly had a break for three weeks in Berlin."

"Oh. Sorry. I was thinking about the exchange. Have you settled on the plan yet?"

Hauer nodded. "With our limited resources, there's really only one option. We've got to find some place that's really open, but with plenty of concealment for me. An empty football stadium would be ideal.

I can hide in the standsthe high ground-while you make the exchange on the field.

You'll have two jobs. The first is acting."

"Acting?"

Hauer nodded. "You're going to be holding a grenade, and you've got to act like you'll blow everyone to hell if they don't hand Ilse over as soon as they touch the papers."

"I won't have to act," Hans said.

"I'm afraid you will. it won't be a live grenade. We won't have access to one. We'll buy an empty one at an army surplus shop. The grenade is just a prop to speed things along.

We want Ilse in your hands ten seconds after you hand the papers over."

"And my second job?"

"Running. As soon as you get Ilse, you'll start walking toward preplanned cover. The kidnappers will have no intention of letting you escape alive, of course. When you hear the first shots, you run like hell."

"What's your job?"

Hauer made a pistol with his thumb and forefinger. "Suppressing fire.

The second you get Ilse clear of my line of fire, I start knocking people down. The first shot you hear will be mine. I'll take out the men on the field, plus anyone they may have covering the exchange location."

Hans studied Hauer's face. "Can you do that?"

"I won't lie to you. Two snipers would be better. But I'm still one of the best rifle shots-in Germany. I can do it."

Hans stared out of the small window at the stars hanging-2

in the African darkness. "Have you used this plan before?"

Hauer smiled faintly. "I've seen it used. Ten years ago I saw terrorists use it successfully against the Cologne police."

"Oh."

The Lufthansa jet leaned sixty-five degrees to starboard, banking for final approach. Hans gripped the armrests of his seat and stared straight ahead. Hauer watched him silently, wishing he could reassure his son more. At least he had spared Hans what he himself knew: that the terrorists who had used his hostage-exchange plan had escaped the Cologne football stadium only to be blown to pieces in a train station an hour later. Escaping an exchange point with Ilse might not be too difficult; escaping from South Africa was another thing altogether.

Hauer laid his callused hand over Hans's and squeezed tightly.

"We'll get her, boy," he said softly.

Hans looked over at his father, fils jaw resolute. "I'm ready.

But there's something I can't get out of my mind.

Who cut the throat of that Afrikaner who attacked Professor Nattennan?

Why did he do it? And where did he go? Did he just disappear?'3

Hauer's face darkened. He knew exactly why the unknown killer had cut the Afrikaner's throat, and if Hans opened the foil packet in his inside coat pocket, he would know too. The killer had escaped with three pages of the Spandau diary. At Hauer's orders the packet had remained hidden for the duration of the flight. But sooner or later, Hans would have to be told the truth. Otherwise he would find it out for himself.

"Hans," he said, "I've got a feeling we may meet our elusive killer sooner than you think."

2.2il A.M. El Al Flight 331: Over Tai Aviv, Israel

The El'Al 747 flew a lazy racetrack pattern over BenGurion eet, Airport at a comfortable twenty-eight thousand f One Of a dozen tiny blips on the emerald air-traffic screens belowAn equipment malfunction on an Eastern whisperedt on runway 3 had caused a delay, and until the men who monitored the skies over Tel Aviv granted clearance, Professor Natterman and his reticent Jewish companion would have to wait in the sky along with two hundred and seventy other impatient travelers.

"What are these mysterious things we need to pick up?"

Natterman asked. "Weapons? Explosives?"

ess. "We will need weapStern looked out at the darkn them in South ons," he murmured. "But we'll have to get Africa, not Israel. I arranged it all from your cabin."

Natterman tried without success to ignore the acid stomach he had developed during the flight from Hamburg. Combined with the stinging pain radiating from his ripped pected delay almost nostril, the indigestion made the unex unbearable. "Do you think they've arrived in Pretoria yet?"

he asked.

Stern looked at his watch. "If they took the first flight out of Frankfurt, they should be landing in Johannesburg right about now."