Spandau Phoenix (59 page)

"God help them."

Stern grunted skeptically.

"I've been thinking about what you told me back in Frankfurt," Natterman said. "About that Lord Granville character. The one who owns the corporation called Phoenix AG. If Granville is English, and his company is based in South Africa, why did you come to Berlin at all?"

"That's a good question, Professor. But the answer is complicated, and for now at least, private' "

"If you're not going to tell me anything," Natterman grumbled, "why did you bring me along in the first place?

A man like you doesn't do things without a very good reason."

"That's true, Professor," Stern said. "I brought you with me for two reasons. One is that you may be able to provide historical information that might help me. I know you're bursting at the seams to tell me your theories about Rudolf Hess, and there is some of it I need to hear. But first, let me explain how this is going to work. You want information about what I think is going on in South Africa. Fair enough.

But you are going to have to earn it. You will answer my questions about the Hess case now; then I will decide how much information to give you in return. If you tell me things I do not already know, I'll reward you in kind. But this is the only time we will discuss Rudolf Hess. Do you agree?"

Natterman sat without speaking for nearly a minute. Then he cleared his throat and said, "What do you want to know?"

"Tell me about Hess and the British. Was there a pro-Nazi clique high in the British government in 1941?"

Natterman folded his hands together on his lap. "It's very complicated, Stern."

"I think I can stay with you, Herr Einstein."

"All right, then. Yes, there was a group of Nazi appeasers-very highly placed-who wanted to make a deal with Hitler. That's been proved. Or at least it's being proved, by an Oxford academic. The question is, was that group sincere? Do you follow me, Stern? Were the members of this group English fascists who loved the swastika? Or simply war profiteers out for all the gold they could get? Were they paranoid anticommunists who wanted peace at any price so that Hitler would be free to crush Russia? Or d here's the rub-were they patriotic Englishmen leading Hitler by the nose until it was too late for him to invade England?

Do you see my point about complexity?"

Stern waved his hand.

"And if they were genuinely pro-Nazi," Natterman went on, "were they truly operating in secret? Or was British Intelligerice aware of them all along? After all, what better stalling ploy could mI-5 have come up with than to a real traitors to lead Hitler on-letting him think he could neutralize England without an invasion-until he could no longer wait to attack Russia? Remember, these 'traitors' weren't the class of people one likes to arrest for treasonWe're talking about the backbone of British government and industry. What if mI-5 decided to use these blue-blooded turncoats while they could, and then slap them on their noble wrists when it was all over? Are you with me, Stern?"

"I'm ahead of you, ProfessOr-What if the top officers Of British Intelligence-expecting a few closet Reds from Oxford-were virulent anticommunists? Brothers-in-spirit with your alleged aristocratic, pro-Hitler clique? What if for strictly pragmatic reasons British Intelligence wanted to do a deal with Hitler, thereby freeing him to crush Stalin? Or ... British Intelligence could have been ordered to explore such a deal. In that case the impetus to make peace with Hitler would have originated at the highest level of British government.

And I mean the very top. Excluding Churchill, Of course. But including the-monarchy." Stern winked at Natterman. "Are you with me, Professor?"

Natterman gave him a black look. "You should have been a historian, damn you. You've struck the main pillar of my thesis-the Duke of Windsor British Intelligence has been helping to conceal Windsor's shadowy past for years. All records of the duke's wartime activities are sealed forever by order of Her Majesty's government.

Yet in spite of that, there's a growing body of hard evidence linking Windsor to the Nazis. It's almost certain that in 1940 the duke met Hess secretly in Lisbon to try to reach an acconunodation with Hitler that would put him back on the throne. Windsor was the archetype of the privileged, Russophobic, Jew-hating British admirer of Hitler. And I'm sure you're aware of the fact that many informed sources believe British Intelligence murdered Number Seven in Spandau last month."

"Yes. But I have my doubts about that. I'm not sure that in this day and age the British would kill over the reputation of the royal family.

it's tarnished enough already."

"If Windsor were merely the tip of an iceberg," Natterman mused, "they might. Many historians believe that Lord Halifax, the British foreign secretary during the war, and possibly as many as forty ranking members of Parliament continued to try to make a deal with Hitler long after Churchill declared: 'We shall never surrender!' I doubt if the most revered families in England would care to have their names linked to Adolf Hitler after all these years. And no Englishman in his right mind wants Churchill's 'their finest hour' myth stained. Think about it, Stern. Neville Chamberlain is excoriated today, and he was merely an appeaser.

Men who sought to accommodate Hitler after the Battle of Britain would be branded collaborators." Natterman looked thoughtful. "You know, I'd be surprised if some of those noble English family trees haven't spread quite a few branches into South Africa."

"Branches," Stern muttered. "It's roots I'm interested in, Professor.

And not the roots of the past, either. I mean the roots of conspiracy in the present. The here and now. That's where the threat to Israel is."

Natterman's eyelids lowered in meditation. "I don't know about any threat to Israel," he said, "but I think I've earned some information, Stern."

The Israeli shook his head slowly. "Professor, what you have told me thus far is available in libraries. I want your analysis. Amaze me with the fruits of your years of scholarship!"

Natterman looked up at Stern, his lips pale with anger. "If you know so much, why don't you finish this conversation alone?"

When Stern didn't respond, Natterman said, "All right, I'll give you something. But you'd better be prepared to pay me back in kind."

"Ask and it shall be given, Professor."

"That's the New Testament, Stern."

"You were saying?"

Natterman actually blushed as he whispered his next words. "What I am about to tell you, Stern, I learned by ...

by rather dubious means."

Stern's eyes flickered interest.

"As I told you, several historians are currently working on the Hess mystery. Two of them are at Oxford University.

You may not know this, Stern, but history is a very competitive field.

In the top rank anyway. And it pays to know all you can about your competition."

"Are you telling me that you have your own spies, Professor?"

A

SPANDAU PHOENIX Natterman averted his eyes. "I prefer to call them 'g4

friends.' The Israeli chuckled. "Naturally."

"One of these friends," said Natterman, "managed to get a very close look at the Hess research going on at Oxford.

It seems that there's a very mysterious fellow who figures in the Hess case. A heretofore unheard of fellow, who seems to have done some particularly nasty mischief on the night of May tenth 1941. In the Oxford draft papers he is referred to as Helmut, but@' "Another German in England on "Helmut?" Stern sat uP.

that night?" Natterman smiled cagily. "The Oxford draft research indicates that. However, I belive that 'Helmut' is simply a code name-a, device that the Oxford historians are using to mask this person's real identity. Never in my own research have I found anyone named Helmut associated with the Hess case in any way."

"You're not telling me you think 'Helmut' is a code name for the real Hess?"

Natterman smiled triumphantly. "In the Oxford papers 'Helmut' is referred to as having had one particularly distinguishing characteristic, Stern. I think it will interest YOU."

"Well?"

"He had only one eye."

Stern looked surprised, then thoughtful. "That might tie in with our tattoo," he allowed. "But I shouldn't think you'd be too happy about it, since Rudolf Hess had two perfectly good eyes."

Natterman raised a long forefinger. "He did as of May tenth 1941.

But if Hess survived that night-as I believe he did-he had plenty of time left to lose an eye. He might even have lost it on the very night of his flight!"

"You should be writing movies, Professor. Do you know how many men lost eyes in the Second world War? Do you plan to scour all Africa for a oneeyed man, in the hope he will lead you to your fantasy Nazi?"

"We'll see how fanciful I am," Natterman muttered.

"Why couldn't there have been a German named Helmut in England on that night in May?" asked Stern.

"There could have been," Natterman admitted. "But there wasn't.

So-have I earned your half of the story?"

"Yes, Professor, I think you have. Just one more question, though. Were there any Russians involved in the Hess case, as far as you know?"

"Russians?" Natterman was silent. "In Hess's original mission?

None that I know of. But I'll certainly think about it."

"Please do that. And please remember our deal when we get on the ground. No fairy stories about Rudolf Hess in front of anyone. Talk like that can make some Jews very upset."

Natterman nodded solemnly.

"Attention ladies and gentlemen, " demanded the loudspeaker.

"Please take your seats. We have been cleared for approach to BenGurion Airport."

A collective sigh of relief went up throughout the plane.

Stern chuckled and touched Natterman's sleeve. "I'm afraid my contribution to this epic will have to wait for the second leg of our journey."

Natterman studied the Israeli's tanned, angular face. "You said information was the first reason you brought me with you, Stern. What was the secondt' Stern looked away from the professor. When he looked back, his eyes were dark and hara. "Phoenix kidnapped your granddaughter, Professor. You are her closest blood relative.

That makes you my direct line into Phoenix. I'm not sure how yet, but I think you might just be my best weapon against them."

Natterman leaned thoughtfully back in his seat as the pilot stretched his holding pattern into a smooth approach and made a flawless landing on the main runway. A security gate with metal-detection and X-ray equipment awaited the deplaning passengers at the end of a long passage, but when Stern presented his wallet to the senior security officer, he and Natterman were waved throup-h.

"That's no small trick in this @o-untry," Natterman said.

"Is it, Stern? What exactly did you do for a living before you retired?"

Stern didn't answer. He was searching the concourse for something or someone he apparently expected to find waiting.

"You must be with the Mossad," Natterman guessed.

"That's it, isn't it?"

Stern kept watching the crowd. "I go back a lot further than the Mossad, Professor. You should know that."

"Yes, but it's something similar, I'll bet. Something c unsavory."

"Gadi!" Stern cried.

Suddenly the Israeli was moving across the concourse at great speed, not running, but taking long strides that seemed to swallow distance effortlessly. Natterman tried to pick out Stern's objective but couldn't, until he reappeared out of the milling crowd with one arm draped affectionately around a dark young man of about twenty-five.

"Professor Natterman," Stern said, "meet Gadi Abrams, my great-nephew."

"My pleasure, Herr professor," said the young man graciously, extending a sun-browned hand.

"Guten Abend, " said Natterman, turning to Stern. "Is this one of the 'packages' we stopped to pick up?"

,Yes, Professor, one of three."

Two smiling young men appeared from behind Gadi Abrams. They extended dark-tanned hands to Natterman, nodded politely, then embraced Stern as if they hadn't seen the older man for many months.

"Aaron," said Stern, ',yosef-this is Professor Natterman of the Free university of Berlin."

The young men nodded courteously, but said nothing.

Both appeared to be about Gadi's age, if not younger, and both carried canvas OVERNIGHT bags. Stern began walking down the concourse toward a row of expensive restaurants, talking quietly to his nephew as he moved.

Natterman tried to keep close enough to the pair to overhear their conversation. Aaron and Yosef padded along behind at a discreet distance. Stern finally turned into a restaurant styled after a French cafe-the only One open at this hour. He waved away a bald waiter who started toward them with a sheaf of menus.

"What about the plane, Gadi?" he asked in Hebrew. "How long?"

"You won't believe this, Uncle, but a fliiht leaves for Johannesburg in ninety minutes."

" 'Siz bashert, " Stern breathed. "it is meant to be. Nonstop?"