by Greg Iles
faltered. "My God. Horn is the sourre of this nuclear threat? But ...
but he's one of the most patriotic men in the country!"
"Perhaps," Gadi said, speaking for the first time, "Mr.
Horn isn't who he appears to be."
General Steyn eyed the Israeli suspiciously. "Just who the devil do you
think he is, lad?"
When Gadi didn't reply, the general turned to Hauer.
"What is it you want me to do, Captain? Exactly?"
Hauer looked straight into General Steyn's eyes. "I want you to place a
small group of men under my command and give me until midnight before
you call out the army."
The general gaped in astonishment. "You're mad! You're asking me to
place South African officers under the command of a foreign policeman?
So that he can carry out an unsanctioned and illegal operation within
this republic? Is that what you're asking?"
"I'm not asking." Hauer's eyes were flat and steady. "I'm demanding
it."
General Steyn reddened in outrage. "You're not in a position to demand
a bloody toothpick!"
Hauer looked pointedly at his watch. "General, I have a man waiting in
Pretoria for a telephone call. He has a full description of Plan Aliyah
Beth. If he does not receive that call in the next twelve minutes, he
will call the New York Times, the London Daily Telegraph, CNN, Der
Spiegel-" General Steyn raised his hand. "And if I don't consider that
a strong enough threat?"
"You may be personally responsible for the deaths of millions of
people."
Captain Bernard stood openmouthed in astonishment. He had never heard
anyone speak to General Steyn like this, and the mention of hostile
nuclear weapons on South African soil had all but pushed him over the
brink. But General Steyn simply rubbed his right hand over his
close-cropped scalp and said, "Excuse us for a moment, gentlemen..
Barnard?"
When they had gone, Gadi leapt to his feet. "What the hell are you
doing, Hauer? My uncle told you to get enough troops to flatten Horn's
estate. You're asking for a small group of men! What are you up to?"
"I'm trying to save your damned country for you," Hauer snapped.
"Since you don't have the presence of mind to do it yourself.
Would you use your brain for one minute? Let's say I tell General Steyn
everything. Where the bomb is, who really has it, everything.
What will he do? His first impulse will be to do what Stern wants-take
a battalion up there and flatten Horn's place. But guess what? While
the good general is flying up to the Transvaal, he's going to realize
something. He's going to realize that Alfred Horn's target is not South
Africa.
Eh? Because if it was, Horn could have sabotaged it a thousand ways
before now. He'll realize that Horn's target must be outside South
Africa, as we well know. And when General Steyn's political bosses find
that out, they're going to realize that the smart thing to do for South
Africa-is to simply let the deal happen. Let whoever's buying that bomb
land their plane, load it on board, and fly it right out of South
Africa, thereby neutralizing the threat to their country."
The color drained from Gadi's face. "They wouldn'L@ -They damn well
would," Hauer asserted. "Even if they want to stop Horn, how can they?
He's got the ultimate blackmail weapon. If they attack him, he can
detonate the weapon right where he is-inside South Africa. And I
imagine someone in the South African government knows he's crazy enough
to do it."
"All right," Gadi said. "I see your point. But General Steyn isn't
going to give you any men."
"He is," Hauer said calmly. "On one condition."
"What condition?"
Suddenly, the steel door clanged open. General Steyn marched in with
Captain Bernard on his heels.
"Let's see," Hauer murmured to GadiGeneral Steyn stopped in front of
Hauer. "Before I answer," he said, "I want to hear exactly what you
want."
Hauer didn't hesitate. He'd made his shopping list while he waited in
the cell. "I want an armored car. I want it mounted with a heavy
machine gun, not a water cannon. I want five men from your elite
counterterror unit. I don't want them to know where they're going or
what the mission is, but I want them to bring along their whole bag of
tricks: flash-bang grenades, body armor, flares, combat shotguns, the
works."
"Mmm," the geneml murmured. "Is that all?"
"No. One more thing."
"yes?
"A Steyr-Mannlicher SSG.69."
General Steyn glanced at Captain Barnard-our counterterror team uses a
different sniper rifle," Barnard explained. "But I think we can get
hold of a Steyr."
Hauer was still watching General Steyn. "Do I get my men, General?"
"On one condition," the Afrikaner said stiffly. "And it's
nonnegotiable."
"I can't imagine what it is," Hauer said, almost smiling.
"I go with you."
Gadi's jaw dropped.
"But I'm in command," Hauer pressed.
General Steyn pursed his lips. "Tactical command," he allowed.
Hauer breathed a sigh of satisfaction. "Make your calls, General."
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
5.51 Pm. Horn House Jonas Stern's head, chest, and ankles had been
scraped bloody by the leather restraining straps of the X-ray table.
Blinding white light stabbed his eyes. He had counted forty blasts of
the X-ray unit already, and in between he had heard the muffled voices
of the men behind the heavy lead shield.
His murderers. They had asked no questions, given no explanations, and
Stern needed none. He was a Jew.
"That's 150 rads," said a voice Stern recognized as Pieter Smuts's.
"How much is that?" asked a second, eager voice. Jiirgen Luhr.
"How much can he take?"
"Oh, quite a bit more," Smuts replied. "And he will."
"Just a moment," said a hoarse, high-pitched voice.
Stern heard the hum of an electric wheelchair, and then Hess rounded the
lead shield. Stern tried to move his head to look, but the straps held
him fast. He saw only the brilliant white light overhead.
Hess chuckled beside his ear.
"Pieter has devised a rather ingenious method of eliminating my Jewish
problem, wouldn't you say, Herr Stern?"
Stern said nothing.
"I wanted you punished, you see," Hess explained, "but I also wanted you
to live long enough to see your country destroyed."
"He may not actually see it, sir," Smuts INTERJECTED as he stepped
around the shield. "In a few hours he will experience blindness similar
to that caused by flashburns. He may or may not recover his sight."
Hess's face darkened. "But he will live long enough to know that Israel
is no more?"
"If the Libyans stick to the schedule, yes. We could stretch this out
for months, if you like."
Hess shook his head. "Just long enough for the Jew to see what happens
to Israel. What will become of him after that?"
Smuts's voice took on a clinical detachment. "It varies.
This dosage will cause severe nausea and vomit
ing for the next
twenty-four hours. He'll have deep burns, bloody diarrhea, his hair
will fall out, there'll be bone marrow destruction-" Hess raised his
hand. "How much.can he stand and survive for two weeks?"
"I wouldn't push it over 500 rads, sir. Not if you want him to live
until the detonation."
When Stern finally spoke, his voice was a knife blade. "In one week,
Hess, you will stand in the dock before a war crimes tribunal in
Jerusalem."
Hess laughed. "Yes? Well, you might be interested to know that your
friend Hauer and his young Jewish companion are now in a Pretoria police
cell. And General Jaap Steyn is chasing a school of red herrings at the
request of my Pretoria office."
"You will be manacled," Stern went on stubbornly. "Israeli
schoolchildren will file past your cell and spit in your face. History
will judge you as it did your master, as one more tragic gangster with
an inferiority complex@, "Swine!" Hess shrieked. "When your skin turns
black and begins to drop off, you will regret your words!"
"Don't let him provoke you, sir," Smuts said evenly. "In ten days time,
Israel will be a dead island in a sea of Arabs."
"Yes," Hess rasped. "What do you think of that, Jew?"
"I think you should plead guilty," Stern retorted. "It will shorten the
time' you have to stand in shame before the world's cameras."
Enraged, Hess stabbed a button on'his wheelchair and wheeled away toward
the door. "Give him 500 rads! Now!"
Jtirgen Luhr's hysterical laugh was cut short by a sharp knock at the
door. A gray-uniformed soldier stepped in, saluted Hess, then turned to
Smuts. "The radar shows one aircraft approaching, sir.
Twenty kilometers out. It responded properly to the codes."
Hess smiled. "Our Libyan friends have arrived to take possession of
their new toy."
"I should get up to the tower, sir," Smuts said.
"No, finish here first. I want this Jew to get his 500 rads today."
Smuts frowned. "I should be with you when you meet the Libyans.
Lieutenant Luhr can finish here. The machine is set. All he need do is
press the button."
Hess paused. "Very well."
"Fifty more exposures," Smuts tofu Luhr.
"Jawohl," Luhr replied, his eyes exultant.
After Smuts rolled Hess out, Luhr swaggered over to the table and leaned
over Stern. "Are you enjoying this, you filthy@' Stern spat into Luhr's
open mouth. The German gagged, raised his fist high over Stern's neck,
then dropped it shaking to his side. He reached up, took hold of the
X-ray tube housing and brought its barrel to within an inch of Stern's
groin. Then he hurried behind the lead shield and peered through the
thick bubble window.
"Let's see if we can burn your balls off, Jew," he snarled.
He pressed the trigger.
604 Pm. The Northern Transvaol
The South African-built Armscor AC-200 armored car swerved off of the
last road east of Giyani and crashed down onto hard veld. Six huge
wheels hurled the long, wedge'shaped hull over berms and trenches at
forty miles per hour-the speed of a mildly agitated rhinoceros.
Machine guns bristled from the Arinscor's steel hide, giving the
lowslung fighfing vehicle the look of a tank designed for a war on the
moon. Inside, Dieter Hauer checked his watch. The hell-for-leather
journey from Pretoria had taken three hours, they still had twenty
kilometers of punishing, trackless wilderness to cover before they
reached Horn House. He estimated they would find it about dusk-the
worst possible time. It would still be light enough for the defenders
to see them coming, but too dark for accurate small-arms fire by his
assault team. He had tried to keep his mind off Hans's fight during the
trip; he'd spent most of the ride conferring quietly with General Steyn.
By concentrating on tactics, he ad almost managed to ignore the fact
that with Stern and the missing pages now in his custody, Hess had no
reason to keep Hans and Ilse alive any longer.
The scene inside the Armscor comforted Hauer, though it would have
terrified most civilians. Ever since Giyani, his team had worn their
black Kevlar helmets and anti-riot respirators. These sophisticated gas
masks concealed the entire face, giving their wearers the insectile look
of Hollywood movie aliens. Every man also wore a full suit of black
body armor. Made of Kevlar composite material fortified by ceramic tile
inserts, these suits would stop not only pistol rounds and shrapnel, but
high-velocity armor-piercing bullets.
Hauer could scarcely tell the men apart. He knew that General Steyn sat
beside him on the metal bench seat, and that one of the men sitting
across from him was Gadi Abrams. Captain Barnard was up front in the
shotgun seat.
The driver and the other two men were members of South Africa's elite
counterterror (CT) commando unit, making up the five-man force Hauer had
originally requested. All the rifles save Hauer's were South African.
Gadi did not mind this, as the South African R-5 assault rifle was
merely a carbine style variant of the Israeli Galil. Hauer carried the
long, graceful sniper rifle he had requested from General Steynthe
Austrian-built Steyr-Mannlicher SSG.69. On the floor lay an assortment
of weapons from grenades to combat shotguns.
He wrenched his respirator aside. "Stern said to expect a strong
defense!" he shouted. "And I think he knows what he's talking about."
General Steyn pulled his own buglike mask off, revealing his perpetually
red face. "He does, Captain. You're the one who insisted on one
vehicle and five men. I would have hit this place with an airborne
division!"
"And seen this corner of your country vaporized," Hauer reminded him.
"What about land mines, General? Aren't they popular down here?"
"Very. We have so many unpaved roads that mines are the weapon of
choice. The bottom of this vehicle is designed to deflect mine blasts
upward and away, but a sustained series of hits-one large minefield,
say-and we've bought it."
General Steyn grinned. "I may be getting up in age, but I don't fancy a
hot fragment in the balls!"
Hauer laughed. The closeness of the sound inside the respirator gave
him a brief flush. Wearing a full suit of armor was disorienting. It
insulated a man from lethal projectiles, but it also isolated him from
the men around him.
Staring through his bubble eyeholes, Hauer wondered about the South
African CT troops. General Steyn had vouched for their loyalty, but
Hauer didn't count that for' much. Not when one of the general's own
staff officers had been on Phoenix's payroll. Hauer would have given
his pension for a German GSG-9 assault team to replace the South
Africans.
He'd have few doubts about success then. But it was no use wishing. You
fight with what you have.
He wondered if Jonas Stern calculated the same way. He could imagine
the dilemma the Israeli was struggling with now-if Stern was still
alive. If it came to a choice between detonating
a nuclear weapon on
South African soil or letting it be captured by Arab fanatics sworn to
destroy Israel, Hauer knew Stern would not hesitate to turn this corner
of South Africa into a radioactive wasteland. If the choice were
between Germany and South Africa, he knew he would do the same. He only
prayed it wouldn't come to that.
Across the narrow aisle, the South Africans sat like Sphimes behind
their black masks. Hauer ' finally discerned the smoldering gaze of
Gadi Abrams through the bubble eyes of one respirator. Hauer stared
back, trying to read the message in the Israeli's dark eyes.
The best he could come up with was, "I trust only you and me, and I'm
not too sure about you, " before the young commando turned away.
Hauer felt exactly the same.
6.11 Pm. Horn House
This time Smuts did not meet the Libyans on the runway. He waited in
the relative security of the recept@,on hall with his master. If they
don't like being met by a kaffir he thought, to hell with them.
Hess sat in his wheelchair beside Smuts, wearing a gray suit-jacket and
black eyepatch. He had once again assumed the role of Alfred Horn.
Smuts peered through a window as his Zulu driver goosed the Range Rover
up the final crescent of the drive. When the Libyan delegation climbed
out, Smuts immediately noticed the ratio of four bodyguards to two
negotiators. On the last trip, he recalled, that ratio had been
reversed. He also noted the conspicuous absence of Major Ilyas Karami.
Smuts had expected something like this, and despite Hess's optimism, he
had prepared for treachery. He had two marksmen waiting in the
corridors on either side of the reception hall, and he had
reinforcements on the way. This morning, when Major Graaff had called
to report -that he had taken Dieter Hauer into custody, Smuts had
requested a contingent of NIS men to holster his own force. Graaff had
enthusiastically agreed. Smuts,hoped they would arrive soon.
He took a last look at his marksmen, then opened the great teak door and
stepped back.
Wearing flowing white robes, Prime Minister Jalloud swept into the hall
and threw his arms wide in greeting.
"Herr Horn!" he exclaimed. "The historic day has come! Allah has
brought us here safely. May He smile upon our business!"
Hess nodded curtly. "Guten Abend, Herr Prime Minister."
Dr. Sabri and the four bodyguards stepped over the threshold.
