“Do you concede that we could possibly overcome the first two obstacles?” Witkowski asked.
“I do,” replied Dietz. “The drunk and the scratchy-crotch, Gerry and I can take care of. The inside desk could probably be handled by a couple of very official types showing very official IDs.” The captain settled his gaze on Latham and Witkowski. “If they’re really experienced at this kind of exercise, which the lieutenant and I went through twice in Desert Storm,” he added.
“Say we do,” said an increasingly irritated Drew, “how is anyone going to handle the penthouse robot?”
“There you’ve got me, sir.”
“Perhaps not me,” interrupted Karin, getting up from the table. “If things work out, I’ll be quite a while,” she continued, speaking softly, enigmatically. “Please order me a double espresso, it may be an exhausting night.” With those words, De Vries took the long way out of the garden restaurant toward the entrance, and in case anyone was watching her, she doubled back along the walls beyond the crowded tables to the ladies’ room.
A full five minutes later the young blond woman sitting beside Dr. Hans Traupman had a mild sneezing fit, the sympathetic conversation at the table ascribing it to Nuremberg’s summer pollen and the breezes. She left the table.
Eighteen minutes later, Karin de Vries returned to her American scholars. “Here are the conditions,” she said. “And neither she nor I will accept any less.”
“You met the girl in the ladies’ room.” Witkowski did not ask a question, he made a statement.
“She understood that if I left the table and walked toward the entrance, she was to make some excuse and meet me there in three or four minutes.”
“What are the conditions and how does she earn them?” asked Latham.
“Second question first,” said Karin. “Once inside with Traupman, give her an hour and she’ll deactivate the alarm and release the lock on the door.”
“She can be our first woman president,” said Captain Dietz.
“She asks far less. She wants, and I agree with her, a permanent visa to the United States and enough money to see her through rehabilitation, as well as sufficient funds to live in relative comfort for three years. She doesn’t dare stay here in Germany, and after three years, while polishing her English, she believes she’ll be able to find work.”
“She’s got it and then some,” said Drew. “She could have demanded a lot more.”
“In all honesty, my dear, she may very well, later. She’s a survivor, not a saint, and she is an addict. That’s her reality.”
“Then it’ll be someone else’s problem,” the colonel interrupted.
“Traupman just signaled for the check,” said Lieutenant Anthony.
“Then, as your German guide, I shall also, in several minutes.” De Vries leaned down over her chair as if to retrieve her purse or a fallen napkin. Three tables away the blond woman did the same, picking up a gold cigarette lighter that had slipped from her fingers. Their eyes met; Karin blinked twice, Traupman’s escort once.
The night’s agenda was set.
36
The apartment complex—house did not do it justice—was one of those cold steel and tinted-glass structures that made a person long for stone walls, spires, arches, and even flying buttresses. It was not so much the work of an architect as it was the product of a robotic computer, the aesthetics found in vast wasted space and stress tolerances. However, it was imposing, the front windows literally two stories high, the lobby made of white marble, in the center of which was a large reflecting pool with a cascading fountain illuminated by underwater floodlights. As each floor ascended, the inside corridors were bordered by an interior, fifty-four-inch wall of speckled granite that permitted all but the shortest people to observe the opulence below. The effect was less of beauty than of triumphant engineering.
On the left of the white-marbled lobby was the untinted, sliding glass window of the security office, behind the glass a uniformed apartment guard whose job it was to admit visitors who identified themselves over the entrance intercom after ascertaining their welcome by those in residence. Further, in the interest of privacy and safety, the security desk had at a guard’s fingertips the alarms for Fire, Forced Entry, and Police; the last, stationed approximately a half mile away, could be at the building in no more than sixty seconds. The complex was eleven stories high, the penthouse occupying the entire eleventh floor.
The exterior, as might be expected, was in keeping with the establishment’s prices. A circular drive led from tall hedgerow to hedgerow, between which was a landscaper’s semi-annuity: sculptured foliage, flowering gardens, five concrete goldfish ponds—aerated naturally, and with flagstone paths for those who cared to stroll outside amid nature’s beauty. In the rear of the complex, in sight of the medieval Neutergraben Wall, was an Olympic-size swimming pool, complete with cabanas and an outside bar for the summer months. Everything considered, Dr. Hans Traupman, the Rasputin of the neo-Nazi movement, lived very well.
“This is like breaking into Leavenworth without an army pass,” whispered Latham behind the greenery of sculptured bushes in front of the entrance. Alongside him was Captain Christian Dietz, who had previously reconnoitered the area. “Every access back by the pool is electronically sealed—you touch a screen with a human hand and the sirens go off. I know those fibers. They’re heat sensitized.”
“I’m aware of that, sir,” said the Ranger from Desert Storm. “It’s why I told you the only way was to take out the two roving bodyguards, get past the house security, and reach the eleventh floor.”
“Can you and Anthony really get rid of the guards?”
“That’s not the problem … sir. Gerry will take the big guy with the flask, and I’ll deep-six the scratch merchant. The problem, as I see it, is whether you and the colonel can talk yourselves through the apartment security.”
“Witkowski was on the phone with a couple of the Deuxième agents. He says it’s under control.”
“How?”
“Two or three names from the Polizei. They’ll make calls to the in-house security guard and pave the way. Top secret and all the rest of that mumbo-jumbo.”
“The Deuxième works with the Nuremberg police?”
“They may, but that’s not what I said. I said ‘names,’ not people. I presume they’ll be important names whether they’re real people or not.… What the hell, Chris, it’s well after midnight, who’s going to check? When the Allies stormed Normandy, no one dared wake up Hitler’s chief aides, much less the man himself.”
“Is the colonel’s German really good? I’ve heard him speak only a little bit of it.”
“He’s totally fluent.”
“He’s got to be authoritative—”
“Can you doubt it? Witkowski doesn’t speak, he barks.”
“Look—he just struck a cupped match from the bushes on our right flank. Something’s happening.”
“He and the lieutenant are nearer. Can you see what it is?”
“Yes,” replied Captain Dietz, peering through the foliage. “It’s the big Kraut with the juice. Gerry’s scrambling around to the far right; he’ll take him in the shadows halfway down the building’s path.”
“Are you fellas always so confident?”
“Why not? It’s simply a job and we’re trained to do it.”
“Has it occurred to you that in hand-to-hand the other guy might be tougher?”
“Oh, sure, that’s why we specialize in the dirtiest tricks on record. Don’t you? A friend of mine at the Paris embassy saw you play hockey in Toronto or Manitoba or someplace; he said you were the mother ship of body-check techniques.”
“This subject is over,” ordered Latham. “What happens if whisky-boy doesn’t come back? Will the other guard be waiting for him?”
“They’re German, they go by the clock. Any deviation is unacceptable. If one soldier is derelict, another can’t be influenced by the dereliction. He continues the march, the watch.
There, see! Gerry’s got him.”
“What?”
“You weren’t looking. Gerry struck a match and arched it to his left. Mission accomplished.… Now I’ll crawl straight forward while you join the colonel on the flank, sir.”
“Yes, I know that—”
“It’ll be a while, maybe as long as twenty minutes or so, but be patient, it will happen.”
“From your mouth to God’s ear.”
“Yeah, Gerry said you’d probably say something like that. See you later, Mr. Cons-Op.” The Special Forces captain wormed his way toward the canopied entrance of the condominium complex as Drew crawled between the stalks of the flowers of the English-style garden to the hedgerow where Stanley Witkowski lay prone.
“Those sons of bitches are outstanding!” pronounced the colonel, a pair of infrared binoculars at his eyes. “They’ve got ice water in their veins!”
“Well, it’s simply a job they’re trained to do, and they do it well,” said Drew, hugging the ground.
“From your mouth to God’s ear, chłopak,” erupted Witkowski. “Here goes the other one … hell, they’re magnificent! Go for the kill, nothing less!”
“I don’t think we want kills, Stanley. We’d rather have captives.”
“I’ll take either one. I just want to get in there.”
“Can we do it?”
“The setup’s in place, but we won’t know until we try. If there’s a problem, we blast ourselves in.”
“The guard will alert the police the moment he sees a weapon.”
“There are eleven stories, where do they start?”
“Good point. Let’s go!”
“Not yet. The captain’s target hasn’t arrived yet.”
“I thought you just said ‘here he goes.’ ”
“Into position, not for Maggie’s drawers.”
“For what?”
“It’s a marine term. You can’t score until the bull’s-eye appears.”
“Will you please speak English?”
“The second of the two guards hasn’t come out.”
“Thank you.”
Six minutes passed and Witkowski spoke. “Here he comes, right on schedule. Bless the Ein, Zwei, Drei!” Thirty seconds later a match was struck and thrown to the striker’s left. “He’s out,” said the colonel. “Come on, and stand up straight. Remember, you’re a member of the Nuremberg police. Just stay behind me and don’t open your mouth.”
“What could I say? ‘O, Tannenbaum, mein Tannenbaum’?”
“Here we go.” Both men raced across the circular drive, and upon reaching the broad canopy fronting the thick glass doors of the entrance, they stopped. Catching their breath and standing erect, they approached the outside panel that was the intercom to the security desk.
“Guten Abend,” said the colonel, continuing in German, “we’re the detective detail called in to check the external emergency relay equipment for Dr. Traupman’s residence.”
“Ach, yes, your two superiors called an hour ago, but as I told them both, the doctor is entertaining tonight—”
“And I trust they told you that we will not disturb the doctor,” Witkowski interrupted curtly. “In fact, neither he nor his personal escorts are to be disturbed, those are the commandant’s orders, and I for one would not care to be a party to disobeying those instructions. The external equipment is in the storage room across the floor from Dr. Traupman’s door. He will not even know we’ve been here—that is the way the chief of Nuremberg’s police wishes it to be. But then, I’m sure he made it clear to you.”
“What happened anyway? To the … equipment?”
“Probably an accident, someone moving furniture or cartons into the storage room and severing a wire. We won’t know until we examine the panels, which we’re responsible for.… Frankly, I wouldn’t know if I fell over the malfunction, my colleague’s the expert.”
“I didn’t even know there was such equipment,” said the apartment guard.
“There’s a lot you’re not aware of, my friend. Between you and me, the doctor has direct lines to all high-ranking officials in the police and the government, even to Bonn.”
“I knew he was a great surgeon, but I had no idea—”
“Let’s say he’s extremely generous with our superiors, yours and mine,” Witkowski again interrupted, his voice now friendly. “So, for all our sakes, let’s not rock the boat. We’re wasting time, let us in, please.”
“Certainly, but you’ll still have to sign the register.”
“And possibly lose our jobs? Yours as well?”
“Forget it. I’ll insert the elevator codes for the eleventh floor, that’s the penthouse. Do you need the key for the storage room?”
“No, thanks. Traupman gave one to our commandant and he gave it to us.”
“You erase all my doubts. Come inside.”
“Naturally, we’ll show you our identification cards, but again, for all our sakes, remember you never saw us.”
“Naturally. This is a good job, and I certainly don’t want the police on my back.”
The elevator was around the corner and out of sight from the surgeon’s penthouse entrance on the eleventh floor. Latham and the colonel inched their way along the wall; Drew peered around the edge of marbleized concrete. The guard at the desk was in shirtsleeves and reading a paperback book while tapping his fingers to the rhythm of the soft music coming from a small portable radio. He was at least fifty feet away, the imposing console in front of him his direct links to several receivers that could cause the aborting of Operation N-2. Latham checked his watch and whispered to Witkowski.
“It’s not a pleasant situation, Stosh,” he said.
“Didn’t expect it to be, chłopak,” said the veteran G-2 officer, reaching into his jacket pocket and taking out five marbles. “Karin was right, you know. Diversion’s everything.”
“We’re past the hour when Traupman’s girlfriend said she’d deactivate the alarm. She’s got to be sweating it out in there.”
“I know that. Use the darts and aim for his neck area. Keep firing until you hit his throat.”
“What?”
“He’ll get up and walk down here, believe me.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Watch.” Witkowski rolled a marble out on the marble floor; it clattered until it hit the opposite wall and stopped. He then threw another out in the opposite direction; it, too, spun to a stop. “What’s happening?” he whispered to Drew.
“Your scenario. He’s getting up and coming toward us.”
“The closer he gets, the better shot you have.” The colonel threw two marbles down the corridor to his right; they clattered, marble against marble; the bodyguard raced forward, weapon in hand. He rounded the corner and Latham fired three narcotic darts; the first missed, ricocheting off the wall, the second and third struck the neo-Nazi on the right side of his neck. The man gasped, grabbed his throat, and uttered a low, prolonged cry as he slowly collapsed.
“Take out the two darts, find the other, and let’s get him back to the desk,” said Witkowski. “The drug wears off in half an hour.” They carried the neo to the desk, placing him in the chair, his upper body slumped over the top. Drew went to the penthouse door, took a deep, prayerful breath, and opened it. There was no alarm, only darkness and silence until a weak female voice spoke—unfortunately in German.
“Schnell. Beeilen Sie sich!”
“Hold it!” said Latham, but the command was unnecessary, as the colonel was at his side. “What’s she saying, and can we turn on a light?”
“Yes,” replied the woman. “I speak englisch little, not good.” With those words she snapped on the foyer light. The blond girl was fully dressed, her purse and overnight case in hand. Witkowski stepped forward. “We go now, ja?”
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, Fräulein,” said the colonel in German. “Business comes first.”
“I have been promised!” she cried. “A visa, a passport
—protection for me to go to America!”
“You’ll get it all, miss. But short of carrying Traupman out of here, where are the tapes?”
“I have fifteen—the most grotesque of the lot—in my bag here. As to taking the Herr Doktor out of the apartment house, it is impossible. The service entrance is locked with an alarm from eight o’clock in the evening until eight in the morning. There is no other way, and television cameras record everything.”
The colonel translated for Drew, who replied, “Maybe we can get Traupman past the security desk. What the hell, his guards are gone.” Witkowski again translated, now for the German woman.
“That is foolishness leading to the death of us all!” she countered emphatically. “You don’t understand this place. The owners are the richest in Nuremberg, and what with the kidnappings of the wealthy throughout Germany these days, a resident himself must inform the desk that he is leaving the premises.”
“So I’ll use the phone and be Traupman, so what? Where is he, incidentally?”
“Asleep in the bedroom; he’s an old man and easily exhausted by the wine … and other methods. But you really don’t understand. The rich all over Europe travel with guards and bulletproof automobiles. You may have gotten in here, and I congratulate you on doing so, but if you think you can leave with the doctor, you’re mad!”
“We’ll sedate him, just as we did the guard outside the door.”
“Even more foolish. His limousine must be called up from the garage before he leaves the building, and only his bodyguards have the combination for the key vault—”
“Key vault?”
“Automobiles can be stolen or tampered with—you really don’t understand.”
“What the hell are you two talking about?” Drew broke in. “Stop with the German!”
“We’re screwed,” said the colonel. “The Deuxième report didn’t go far enough. How about armored vehicles under the canopy before he goes outside, and combination vaults in the garage for the keys?”
“The whole damn country’s paranoid!”
“Nein, mein Herr,” said Traupman’s woman for the evening. “I understand a little of what you say. Not entire Deutschland—parts, sections where the rich live. They are frightened.”
The Apocalypse Watch Page 61
