Green closed his eyes a split second before six Chinese-made Luoyang PL-12 active-radar-guided missiles slammed into his Tomcat, scattering small pieces over the Sea of Japan.
8
BERLIN, GERMANY
The four men listened to the BBC radio broadcast and heard the news just after midnight in Berlin. None of them could believe the audacity and firepower the unseen forces were bringing to bear. Jack and the others knew now that it had to be McCabe behind what was happening. The memory of the crated weapons systems haunted the men as they sat listening to the report on the loss of life involved in the Chinese incident.
“These nuts are serious,” Everett said, staring out of the windshield at the darkened street beyond.
“It seems to me that all of these governments would be more than ready to stop this foolishness and cooperate now that people are dying for nothing,” Ellenshaw said from the backseat, as he stared without interest at his McDonald’s cheeseburger.
“You’d think,” Jack said, as he adjusted the small dome light. He had begun reading the file the German commando had delivered to him. “You’ll soon learn, Charlie, that once a course of action has been initiated by any government, it’s harder to stop than an avalanche.” Jack stopped talking when he came across a picture captioned “1947—Spandau.” He saw the face he had been looking for. It was a group photo of sixteen American officers lined up in front of the Spandau military prison.
“Here’s our boy,” Jack said, as he slid the photo out of the file and handed it to Everett.
“That’s him, all right, and I’ll be damned if he doesn’t look as familiar as he did before. He’s a lieutenant colonel, I can see that. But I can’t see his shoulder patch. The commanding officer of the prison is listed, but his staff isn’t.”
“Here’s the list of the only seven prisoners ever kept there,” Collins said, passing the list to Carl, who handed the photo to Golding and Ellenshaw in the backseat. “Notice something odd?”
Everett read the list aloud. “Rudolf Hess, life sentence, died 1987. Walther Funk, life sentence, released 16 May 1957. Erich Raeder, life sentence, released 1955. Albert Speer, twenty-year sentence, released 1966. Baldur von Schirach, twenty-year sentence, released 1966. Konstantin von Neurath received a fifteen-year sentence but was released in 1954. Admiral Karl Dönitz served a ten-year term and was released in 1956.” Everett scanned the rest of the original roster and he indeed noticed something. “No mention of our boy Joss Zinsser.”
“Quite an omission, don’t you think?” Jack asked.
“Well, we know he was there. Why would someone erase his name from the list of prisoners?”
“Simply to make what we’re currently attempting that much harder,” Collins answered as he turned back and looked at Pete. “We need Europa.”
“That means returning to the plane, Jack. That could be a little dangerous, at least until your friend clears the way for us.”
“We can’t wait. We need to know who this American lieutenant colonel is.”
“Well, get me to the plane and we’ll take a shot at it,” Pete said, looking over at an excited Ellenshaw, who reached out and lightly elbowed Pete.
“You see what I mean. We’re in danger constantly with these two, and it only gets better.”
Golding gave Ellenshaw a look and a brief smile that never touched any other part of his face. He nodded and looked out of his window as Captain Everett started the car. He saw Charlie Ellenshaw’s face reflected in the glass and noted that the rumors about crazy Charlie were accurate—he was indeed crazy.
* * *
An hour later Jack stood next to the main gate at Tempelhof International Airport as Everett, Golding, and Ellenshaw watched from the shadows. The private portion of the airport was guarded by what appeared to be military personnel and Collins knew the security situation had changed since the attack in Berlin the day before, necessitating the change in airport status. Jack hissed through his teeth as he realized that, without the use of deadly force against the soldiers, there would be no entering from that area. He turned and ducked back into the shadows of a hangar that lined the fenced-in area.
“Forget about the gate,” he said as he approached Everett and the others.
“How about this?” Everett asked, lightly tapping an aluminum building that housed a private aviation company.
Collins looked it over but saw that there was no window or door access on this side of the secured area.
“Not unless we have a blow torch or hacksaw.”
“I’m sure the owner would be very put out if you damaged his building,” a voice said from the darkness.
Jack relaxed when he recognized Sebastian Krell, who eased out of the shadows of the building next door.
“Damn, you’re getting better at that,” Collins said.
“I had a good teacher.” Krell removed the dark mask and shook Jack’s hand. He nodded at the others. “Those are my men at the gate. I told the airport security department we would be running a drill for the next three hours, so I suggest that since you’re an hour late you board your aircraft and get the hell out of Berlin before one of my brethren in law enforcement blows your ass back to the States.”
Collins slapped Krell on the shoulder. “Hang out awhile until we get airborne?”
“That was the plan.” Sebastian looked at all four men. “Now look, you have an authorized aircraft next to your own. We’re running a check on it at this time, and we can’t just board it, so we don’t know who it belongs to.”
“Why do you mention that?” Everett asked as he felt for the comfort of the nine-millimeter under his shirt.
“Because, Captain Everett, the aircraft’s pilot, like your own, never left the plane after landing two days ago. We can’t get a view inside and I neglected to bring our heat-sensing equipment.”
“Okay, at least you’re giving us a start,” Jack said. “Shall we?” he asked the others as he turned for the gate.
“We will cover your team from the tarmac, staying out of sight.” Sebastian took Jack’s hand and they shook, then Collins went toward the gate. “Auf Wiedersehen, old friend.”
As the commando team, camouflaged in airport security garb, waved them inside the gate, Jack also felt for his nine-millimeter.
“Pete, Charlie, if anything happens, get the hell out of here and run back to where we left Sebastian.”
“But—” Charlie started to say.
“But nothing, get the hell back,” Everett answered for Jack.
“All right, but under protest,” Ellenshaw said.
As they found the tarmac and the silhouette of their aircraft, Jack slowed and allowed his senses to take hold. He saw the neighboring plane and its darkened interior. Then his eyes switched to their own aircraft. He saw the cockpit cabin lights on but no movement. He figured the plane’s Air Force personnel were in the back asleep. They had been ordered to stay put for three days while the ground team was in the city. A six-day supply of food had been stored onboard because Jack had known they might be traveling to more than one continent on this investigation. When he didn’t feel any eyes on him other than those of Sebastian and his nine men, Collins waved Everett up the portable stairs. He saw Carl tap on the door with the flat of his hand.
Ellenshaw and Golding were nervously looking around them, even scanning the high control tower a mile and a half distant.
The door opened and Jack relaxed when he saw the United States Air Force captain looking sleepy-eyed and surprised to see Carl.
“Okay, guys, up the stairs, quickly,” Jack said, as he continued to study the white-painted aircraft next to their own. As he did he saw one of the window blinds raise about six inches and then lower again. Collins hurriedly took the steps two at a time and then closed and secured the large door. “Captain, warm this thing up and preflight us for London for now.”
The sleepy pilot shook his copilot and engineer awake and then turned to Collins and the others, who had shocked them wit
h their bruised and dirty bodies.
“It’ll take us thirty minutes, Colonel, and that’s rushing it. Without filing the flight plan in person, we’re breaking about six hundred different rules.”
“We have a friend who will get us clearance. Just get her done, Captain. We don’t have much time. In case you didn’t notice, we’re wanted for mass murder.”
The captain turned and with his copilot and engineer entered the cockpit.
Jack ran a hand through his hair and gestured to Everett. “Carl, keep your eye on our mysterious friend next door.”
“Aye,” he said, as he went to the emergency door behind the cockpit and looked out into the darkness.
“Doc, you and—”
Pete and Ellenshaw had already disappeared into the communications area of the plane, and Golding was already connected to and giving orders to Europa. They had completed the uplink to the secure computer system. Jack went to join them. The lights flickered as the pilot switched over to internal systems. The copilot left the plane to disconnect the ground power source, leaving the door behind him ajar. While the door was not secured, Jack pulled his nine-millimeter and kept it at his side.
“Europa, scan the selected photo from Spandau Prison, Germany, year 1947. The object of investigation is the lieutenant colonel second from the right in the front row of officers.”
Jack watched Pete insert the photo from the file into the scanner. His eyes went to the large monitor placed on the aircraft’s wall.
“Scanning,” Europa said, in her ever-present sexy voice. “Dr. Golding,” she replied almost immediately, “there is no record of this lieutenant colonel in the archival accounts at Spandau Prison in the time frame given.”
“Damn!” Pete said, as he looked at the blowup of the photo on the screen.
“Europa, can you scan the uniform of the officer in question and find out if there are any identifying insignia or shoulder patches?” Jack asked, leaning closer to the monitor. “In particular, the lapel area of the jacket.”
“Yes, Colonel Collins.”
Jack watched as Europa started blowing the photo up into larger sections, scrambling and then descrambling the image. It finally locked on the area Jack had interest in.
“I’ll be damned,” Pete said, as the image cleared. “It was there the whole time. All we needed was a magnifying glass.”
Collins saw the silverfish-looking cross on the colonel’s left lapel.
“A priest?”
“Europa, is there any record of religious personnel stationed at Spandau?” Jack asked, starting to put a face on his developing theory.
Europa started sending a series of differing faces across the screen, pushing each photo into the upper left corner of the monitor with names and ranks and service country. The only country not represented was the Soviet Union, for obvious reasons. The man in the original photo wasn’t among those listed.
“We have two Catholic priests, three Episcopal priests, and five Baptist ministers listed as being assigned Spandau duties in that one year, but still nothing on the man in the photo.”
Jack placed his hands on Pete’s shoulders as he tried to think. Then he had an idea.
“Europa, Spandau Prison didn’t start housing prisoners of war until 1946, but there had to be a transition team stationed at that facility during the trial for preparations for criminal transfer. Is there a list of personnel that interviewed each prisoner before being transferred from Nuremberg?”
Europa only took a second to delve into U.S. Army, British and French forces, and Soviet legal personnel files before a long list appeared.
“Come on Europa, follow along,” Pete scolded the system, “please break the list down to American religious personnel or counselors.”
Europa didn’t respond; it was as if Pete had hurt her feelings as the photos and file names started dropping from the screen. They were left with two pictures, one a captain who was assigned as a Roman Catholic priest and the other a Baptist minister from Gillette, Wyoming, Lieutenant Colonel William T. Rawlins. The pictures from 1947 matched. The reason Rawlins wasn’t listed as being stationed at Spandau was because all he had done was examine and interview each prisoner before their arrival at the prison as to their religious needs. He had only been at Spandau for the one day as the prisoners arrived, and that was when the picture of the new staff was taken.
“That name is very familiar,” Ellenshaw and Pete said at almost the same time.
“Almost as familiar as the man’s face, wouldn’t you say?” Jack asked as he leaned over and instead of asking Europa a question, he typed it in with the keyboard.
As Golding and Ellenshaw watched the monitor, a videotaped segment flashed onto the screen and both scientists were amazed at what Jack had figured out before they themselves had even asked the right question.
“Unbelievable,” Ellenshaw said.
“You mean to say that the man here, this Samuel Rawlins, the evangelist, is this colonel’s son?” Pete asked with incredulity etching his voice.
“Yes,” Jack said. “And also the man that is most vociferous and adamant about us not going to the Moon.”
“What are you suggesting here, Colonel?” Ellenshaw asked.
Collins sat up straight and watched the soundless image on the monitor as the man on the world stage slammed his fists into the pulpit and screamed about something they couldn’t hear, but Jack knew the man’s tirade was directed at the president and the men and women attempting the excursion to the lunar surface, and that possibly meant Sarah and his two men. He watched the man as he delivered his words. Pete reached out and was about to turn up the volume but Collins stayed his hand and just watched the gesturing of the Reverend as he spoke.
“I believe we are looking at the man whose father discovered the truth and the whereabouts of Operation Columbus, and passed along not only the secrets of seven hundred million years ago, but also the reason why it was in their best interest to cover it up.”
“Wait,” Pete said turning around to look at Jack. “You’re saying that this man knows where the artifacts from 1945 are buried?”
“No, I’m saying he and his father own the land where the artifacts are buried. And not only that, I believe our good friend McCabe is working for him.”
“He is one of the five richest men in the world,” Ellenshaw offered.
“A lot to protect if people saw Columbus and its artifacts as an alternative to the Genesis account in the Bible,” Collins said as he finally looked away from the silver-haired man on the monitor.
“But, Colonel, religion is all faith-based, that shouldn’t have a bearing on what people perceive as threats to their beliefs,” Pete countered. “Besides, seven hundred million years ago would have thrown off the evolutionary scale somewhat. I mean, come on, that’s a long time before the birth of the dinosaurs to the coming of the mammals.”
“Normally, yes, you’re right. The more forward-thinking religions are not frightened by new discoveries and theories; after all, they believe that God created everything, even you two.”
Ellenshaw nodded his head in agreement but Pete still wasn’t convinced.
“Pete, we need to get this to Niles so he can talk to the president. I think the FBI should be brought into this as soon as possible before this maniac attempts another attack.”
Pete agreed and was about to send a message through Europa to Niles Compton when Everett called from the front.
“Jack, this doesn’t look good, we have company.”
Pete, Ellenshaw, and Collins looked out the nearest window and saw men running down the portable staircase attached to the plane next to theirs. Jack cursed just as the aircraft’s engines started to whine. He was about to shout toward the cockpit when the first bullets struck the fuselage and the window they were looking through exploded inward, sending glass and plastic into the cabin.
* * *
As quickly as the shooting started, it stopped. Everett had sealed the door only to real
ize that the copilot was still outside.
Jack chanced a peek through one of the windows, then he noticed something that gave him pause as he tried to figure out what was different. The angle of the aircraft had changed. It was a small but perceptible difference.
“Jack, if I didn’t know any better—” Everett started to say.
“They shot our tires out on the right side.”
Everett looked back from the doorway just as the pilot, hunched over in case they received any more gunfire, duck-walked down the aisle.
“I just shut the engines down, Colonel. We’re not going anywhere. We lost the tires on the right side and the nose wheel.”
“Take cover,” Collins said. “We’re not exactly sure who we’re dealing with here.” He ducked his head into the communications room. “You two, stay down,” he said to Golding and Ellenshaw, who had anticipated the order and were already hidden underneath the radio console.
“Jack, we have movement on the left side of the plane. Wait, it looks like Sebastian. Damn, he has his hands up and he’s speaking with someone. Crap, I think they’re German SWAT.”
Collins hunched as low as he could and joined Everett on the left side of the 727. He chanced a quick look and saw that, indeed, Sebastian had his hands raised in the air. His eyes narrowed as he saw the black Nomex uniform and the gold German lettering on the back that said “Polizei.”
“Mr. Everett, I think we’ve been had.”
“Colonel Collins, I wholeheartedly agree with your assessment. You think your friend set us up?”
“No, it’s not in him. I think he’s trying save our lives.”
As Jack spoke, Sebastian handed over his automatic weapon and accepted a bullhorn from the police officer. He took a few steps toward the plane and then held the device to his mouth.
“Colonel Collins, I am to inform you that your aircraft has been disabled and that you are surrounded.” Sebastian glanced over at the man watching him closely. “The Berlin police are guaranteeing your safety if you and your men exit the aircraft.” Sebastian lowered the bullhorn and took another five steps toward the plane. He looked up at the darkened windows. “There’s nothing I can do for you now, Jack. Give up and we’ll work at getting you out of custody, even if I have to go to the chancellor myself.”
Legacy: An Event Group Thriller Page 26
