Spandau Phoenix (65 page)

Kosov's warning to COIOnel Rose about "watching his back" brought Schneider back to more immediate concernsWho besides Kosov even knew that he was involved in the Phoenix case? Schneider remembered Harry Richardson's mutilated corpse baking in the overheated, apartment. Did Kosov know the animal who had killed him? Schneider thought of the mysterious B written in Richardson's bloodHad Kosov been able to read its significance? If so, why couldn't he give Rose a name to go with his warning? Could Harry Richardson have been killed by a Russian only an hour after Kosov released him at the Wall? Schneider knew Colonel Rose saw the British as the villains in this case, but he suspected it was somehow more complicated than that.

As a homicide detective, he had found that 99 percent of all

the simplest mysteries" could be solved by reasoning out explanation for any event. But this mystery-he had felt from the beginning-fell into the 1 percent category.

ain international Airport 10.29 A.M. Frankfort Twelfth Department agent Yuri Borodin sat eating a Wienerschnitzel in the large restaurant overlooking the main runway of Flughafen Frankfurt. Every two minutes a huge jet would swoop down from left to right across the giant picture window and settle silently onto the tarmac. Borodin had seen everything from Japan Airlines 747s to Aeroflot airliners to U.S. Air Force C-130s.

To the right of Borodin's Wienerschnitzel lay a red file a half inch thick. It contained a concise summation of the KGB file on Rudolf Hess, a multivolume collection of data amassed over fifty years.

A courier from Moscow had delivered the file to Borodin at the Frankfurt Airport - Sheraton thirty minutes ago.

Borodin had scanned its contents with only desultory interest.

The file described a convoluted plot to kill the British heads of state during World War Two, a plot involving highranking British Nazi sympathizers, the British royal family, and a British communist cadre manipulated by a tsarist Russian named Zinoviev and a young German agent named Helmut Steuer. It told of the KGB's certainty that Spandau's Prisoner Number Seven was not Rudolf Hess but his wartime double, and of that double's murder just five weeks ago. KGB Chairman Zemenek stated his belief that the killing had been done by an assassin paid by Sir Neville Shaw of Britain's mI-5. Borodin admired the nerve and resourcefulness shown by Vasili Zinoviev and Helmut Steuer, but the rest of the story essentially bored him.

Except for the part about the blackmail. When Borodin saw how Churchill had forced Joseph Stalin to keep silent about the Hess affair, he had come instantly alert. Because he saw then how important the recently discovered Spandau papers could be to KGB Chairman Zemenek. The Spandau papers could conceivably clear the way for the Kremlin to tell the world what it knew about British collaboration with the Nazis during the war, and thus force them to share responsibility for the Holocaust. Borodin also saw that if he were the man who recovered those papers, his already advanced career would take a critical leap forward.

He had only one problem. At the end of the Hess file he had found a message inserted by the chairman of the KGB.

It said: Borodin: General Secretary Gorbachev currently exploring possibility of collaborating with U.S. State Department regarding joint disclosure of the truth about Hess's mission. Do nothing to antagonize any U.S. operatives you may encounter in pursuit of the Spandau papers.

British operatives fair game.

Zemenek Yuri Borodin wiped his mouth with his napkin, shoved his empty plate aside, and pulled the file to him. He reread Chairman Zemenek's note. At this point, he reflected, another agent in his position might have trouble digesting the meal, since less than eighteen hours ago he had tortured and executed an American Army Intelligence major. But Borodin wasn't worried. The Hess file had told him one thing: if he returned to Moscow with the Spandau papers, no one would ask whom he had killed to get them.

He glanced at his watch. The next flight to South Africa took off in just under four hours. Borodin chuckled. The big German.Kripo detective had not arrived from Berlin yet, but he would, with predictable German punctuality. And then he would lead Yuri Borodin to the Spandau papers like an elephant leading a lion to water.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

n rsgo ll.-35 A.m. El Al Flight 331: Zoirea Al co The deadliest woman in the world stepped out of the forward lavatory of the 747

looking like a grandmother on holiday, a role she assumed with ease.

Swallow's stylish outfit reflected modest wealth; her hair shone with the almost-blue tint unique to elderly ladies still courting their vanity; and she smelled of body powder and a very expensive vintage perfume-an alluring concoction called Claire de Lune. She carefully made her way up the first-class aisle, then, just as she passed Jonas Stern, she stumbled. She cried out in Yiddish-a nice touch-and landed directly beside Stern's seat. Gadi Abrams, who'd been sitting in the seat across the aisle, leaped up and helped her to her feet.

"Thank you, young man," she said weakly, her face flushed with embarrassment. "I'm afraid I'm not used to airplanes."

Stern glanced up. Had he met the woman's eyes, he might have seen the danger; he might even have recognized her by the dark fire that burned there. But he might not have. The road that had led Swallow to this airplane was a long and tortuous one. In any case, he did not meet her eyes. He glanced over at Professor Natterman, . who slept noisily beside him, then went back to reading his El Al magazine.

"This flight seems as though it will never end," SwaHow complained.

4.ltls a long one," Gadi agreed.

"How much longer, do you think?"

"About five hours."

Swallow sighed. "It's worth it in spite of everything. My

granddaughter just turned eighteen months old, and I've yi to see her."

"She lives in JohannesburgT' Gadi inquired politely.

"No, Pietersburg. It's far to the north, I think."

Gadi nodded. "Are you all right now?"

"Yes, but I'd better sit down. Thank you again."

Swallow slowly made her way to her seat, one of three near the spiral staircase leading up to the 747's cocktail lounge. After situating a small pillow behind her head, she pulled a romance novel from her handbag. Glancing up for a moment, she caught Gadi staring.

The Israelis were professionals-she had to admit that. Though Jonas Stern sat only four rows behind her, his three young escorts had surrounded him in a protective triangle. And with Stern in an aisle seat, no one meaning harm to his slumbering companion could get to him without going through all four Israelis first-an impossible task. Stern himself, however, was a different matter. Swallow could have taken him as she passed only moments ago.

In a way she had. While Gadi helped her up, she had pressed an adhesive-barked microtransmitter against the underside of Stern's seat.

Everything the Israelis said during the remainder of the flight would be pick@d up by a tiny receiver in the flesh-toned hearing aid she wore in her right ear. The unit whistled for a few seconds as she dialed in the frequency, but she could clearly hear Professor Natterman snoring in his seat by the window.

"This is Captain Lev Ronen," announced a disembodied voice with the accent of a Sabra, or native-born Israeli. "As a point of interest, we are now crossing the equator. And about four hundred miles to our left is Lake Victoria, Africa's largest lake and the source of the Nile. I'm sure our first-time travelers will be glad to know that as we cross into the southern hemisphere, the seasons are reversed. That means we're flying into summer. We should arrive in Johannesburg on schedule at 5:40 Pm. South African time, and we hope everyone is having a pleasant flight."

Gadi Abrams leaned across the aisle toward Stern. "Also about four hundred miles to our left," he said, mocking the if, lo rth captain's o icious tone, ,is Entebbe, site of the July u , 1976, rescue of-over a hundred Israelis from the hands of international terrorists." His tone changed to indignation.

"You'd think they'd mention it, at least. We are on El Al, for God's sake."

Stern gave a dismissive wave of his hand. "Old news, Gadi.

Besides, you never know who's flying El Al. We don't want to offend the paying customers."

Four rows ahead, Swallow smiled with satisfaction. The conversation had come in loud and clear over her receiver.

"I'm surprised at the number of passengers," Gadi remarked.

"Since you arranged the flight privately, I didn't expect any."

Stern chuckled softly. "I arranged this flight thirty hours ago.

General Avigur said he would get me to South Africa.

He didn't say he @ouldn't tly to defray the cost any way he could."

"I don't like it."

"Two passengers are always air marshals," Stern reminded him.

"Leave the security to them for once and go to sleep. It might be your only chance for a while."

"You're not sleeping."

Stern reclined his plush seat and closed his eyes. "Good night."

Gadi pulled a wry face and glanced around the First Class cabin.

The blue-haired grandmother was the only other passenger up here.

That meant the air marshals had to be in Tourist. He considered walking the length of the plane once more to try to pick them out, but decided against it. Stern was right: he needed rest. The old woman was certainly no threat. Reclining his seat, Gadi closed his eyes and, like professional soldiers everywhere, dropped off to sleep only moments after making the decision to do so. His last mental picture was of himself helping the old grandmother to her feet, his good deed for the day.

As the "grandmother" pretended to concentrate on the novel in her lap, a new voice mumbled in her receiver. Professor Natterman had awakened.

"What time is it?" he asked groggily.

"Almost lunchtime," Stern answered, half-asleep already.

"How do you feel?"

"I feel like getting some answers is how I feel," Natterman grumbled. "I think it's time you told me your half of the story."

Stern opened his eyes and turned irritably toward the professor, but the large white bandage over Natterman's lacerated nose kept him civil. He jerked his head toward Gad reminding the professor of their agreement not to discuss anything-about Rudolf Hess. "What do you want to know, Professor?"

"Everything. What about this Phoenix AG? Why did you come to Berlin in the first place? I want to know why Ilse was taken to South Africa.

What's the significance of that?"

Stern looked over at Gadi. "I've thought a lot about that," he murmured. "And I'm sorry to disappoint you, but your Nazi angle doesn't fit here. At least not in the way you think. The Afrikaners are white supremacists, of course, but that's no secret. They fought against Hitler during the war, and damned valiantly. And in spite of their prejudice against blacks, they@ve got a pretty good record on Jews. They allowed a great deal of Jewish immigration during the war, which is more than a lot of countries did."

"What about the present day? What are their ties with Germany?"

Stern shook his head. "Limited. During the past several years, South Africa has quiedy developed extremely close relations with another country in a very similar geopolitical situation. That country is not West Germany, however, but Israel. It doesn't sound like we're flying ifito a nest of neoNazis, does it?"

"No," Natterman agreed. "But you obviously have some suspicions about South Africa and Germany. Where is the fox in the henhouse?"

"South Africa's nuclear program. The darkest corner of this dark country."

"Does South Africa actually possess nuclear weapons?

I've heard it speculated in the news, but never confirmed."

Stern smiled wryly. "Oh, I can confirm it for you. In 1979, an American VELA satellite detected a distinctive double flash off the South African coast, in the South Atlantic. That flash was the result of a joint nuclear test carried out by South Africa and Israel."

"How do you know that?"

"Because for all practical purposes, Professor, Israel gave South Africa the bomb. Nuclear weapons are one of the main pillars of the Israeli/South Africa relationship."

" What? "

"it was an inevitable partnership. Israel developed its first bomb in 1968, but we had several limitations. We couldn't test our weapons without being detected; South Africa had vast deserts and two oceans. We needed raw uranium and other strategic minerals; South Africa had extensive reserves. South Africa also had a great deal of ready cash.

But the main tie was psychological, emotional. As the world closed ranks against apartheid, South Africa grew ever more isolated. Before long it was an international pariah surrounded by hostile enemies. The siege mentality was a natural reaction, and we in Israel are the masters of that particular neurosis."

"But how do you know all this, Stern?"

The Israeli looked at Natterman for a long time. "You asked me before if I worked for the Mossad, Professor.

Right now I am exactly what I told you in the beginning, a retiree. But I have done a bit of work for several government agencies.

Shin Beth and the Mossad, yes, but my longest service was with an agency called LAKAM. Have you heard of it?"