Spandau Phoenix (62 page)

Ilse shivered, recalling the gun held to her head by the wild-eyed Lieutenant Luhr.

Horn blew a smoke ring. "I assure you that such unpleasantness will not be repeated. The man who drugged you on the plane is now in a cell a hundred meters beneath your feet." Horn smiled. "Now, if I may, I'd like to ask your opinion of the document your husband discovered in Spandau Prison."

Ilse studied her hands. "What about it? It looked like a hoax to me.

Things like that have come up a dozen times since the war@' "Please,"

Horn interrupted, his tone harder, "do not try my patience.

Your discussion with Prefect Funk indicated that you well understood the importance of the papers."

"I only thought that they might be dangerous! I knew that because Hans found them in Spandau they'd probably been written by a war criminal.

Because of that-"

"Excuse me, Frau Apfel." Horn's gingle eye settled on Ilse's face. "How would you define that term-war criminal?

I'm curious."

Ilse swallowed. "Well ... I suppose it means someone who has departed from the laws of morality so radically that it shocks the civilized world, even in time of war."

Horn smiled sadly. "Very articulate, my dear, but completely incorrect.

A war criminal is merely a powerful man on the side that Was Caesar a war criminal? By your definition, By mine? No. Was Alexander? Was Stalin? In 1944, arshal Zhukov's Red Army raped, murdered, and looted its way across Germany. Was Zhukov a war criminal? No. But Hitler? Of course! The Anti-Christ! You see?

The label means nothing in absolute terms. It's simply a relative description."

"That's not true. What the Nazis did in the concentration camps-"

"Maintained the German war economy and furthered medical science for the entire world!" Horn finished. "Of course there were excesses-that's human nature. But does anyone ever mention the advances that were made?"

"You don't believe that. Nothing justifies such cruelty."

Horn shook his head. "I can see that the Zionists have kept a firm grip on our country's schools since the war. DeNazification," he snorted.

"My God, you sound just like an Israeli schoolchild. Can you be so blind? In 1945 the Allied Air Forces attacked Dresden-an open city-and killed 135,000 German civilians, mostly women and children.

President Truman obliterated two Japanese cities. That is not criminal?"

"Then why is hiding the Spandau diary so important to you?" Ilse challenged. "Why not let it be known and publicly argue your case, whatever it is?"

Horn looked at the table. "Because some chapters of history are best left closed. The case of Rudolf Hess has had a startling long-lived effect on relations between England, Germany, and Russia.

It's in the best interest of all concerned to let sleeping dogs lie."

"But that's what I don't understand. What does it matter what happened fifty years ago?"

"Nations have very long memories," Horn said.

"What happened to Rudolf Hess?" Ilse suddenly asked.

,The real Hess."

"He died," Horn said. "In Resistencia, Paraguay, in 1947.

I knew him well, and he died a bitter man, less than two years after his beloved Fuhrer."

"Beloved?" Ilse echoed, horrified. "But the man in Spandau-who was he?"

"No one," Horn said. "Anyone. The poor fool was part of a failed gambit in foreign policy, that's all. But the result of that failure was that he had to remain in prisons Hess for the rest of his life.

That is all in the past.

Unfortunately, your husband reopened this sticky little case, and now it must be closed again. For me it is a small annoyance, but one cannot ignore details. 'For want of a nail . . .' "

" 'For want of a nail,' " Ilse said thoughtfully, " 'the kingdom was lost.' What is the 'kingdom' in this case?"

Horn smiled. "My company, of course. Phoenix AG."

Ilse looked thoughtful. "I don't recall seeing that name listed on any stock exchange."

"I'm sure you don't. It's a private holding company. If I were to furnish you with a list of my worldwide subsidiaries, however, I'm sure you would recognize quite a few."

Smuts smiled at Horn's understatement.

Ilse was genuinely curious. "So you're multinational, then. How big are you? Two, three hundred million in revenues?"

The young Englishman snickered.

"Three hundred million in assets," Horn corrected softly.

Ilse stared, incredulous. "But that would put your revenues at over a billion dollars."

There was silence until Horn gracefully resumed the conversation.

"I see you have a keen interest in business. Why don't we excuse Pieter and Lord Granville? You and I can continue our discussion without boring them. Gentlemen?"

"But I find this discussion extremely interesting," the Englishman protested.

"Nevertheless, " Horn said icily.

"How about some billiards, Smuts?" the Englishman asked gamely, trying to preserve some illusion of free will.

Horn's stare commanded the reluctant Afrikaner to accept the invitation.

"Don't suppose I'd mind taking a few rand off you," Smuts said, chuckling. He had a brittle laugh, like a man who finds humor only at others' expense. He gave Horn a shallow bow as they went out.

"That man seems quite devoted to you," Ilse observed.

"Herr Smuts is my chief of security. His loyalty is absolute."

"Are you in danger?"

Horn smiled. "A man in my position makes enemies, Frau Apfel."

Suddenly Ilse's eyes glistened with moisture. The plea she had pressed down deep in her heart welled up into her throat at last. "Sir, please, isn't there some way that you could give my husband? He meant no harm!

If you only ew him, you would see-"

"Frau Apfel! Control yourself! We will not discuss the matter again until your husband arrives. At that time I shall decide what is to be done-not before. Is that clear?"

Ilse wiped her eyes with her linen napkin. "Yes ... yes, I'm sorry."

"There's no need to be sorry. Women are at the mercy of their emotions; it's their biological flaw. If it weren't for that regrettable fact, who knows what they might have aceomplished throughout history."

Ilse remained silent. She saw nothing to be gained by antagonizing her captor further.

"Frau Apfel," Horn said, "the reason I excused the others was to invite you to attend a business meeting with me tomorrow evening. :rhe gentlemen I'm meeting have a rather medieval attitude toward your sex, I'm afraid, so you would have to pose as my secretary. But I'm certain you would find the negotiations extremely interesting." Horn raised his chin.

"It will be the first meeting of its kind in history."

"It sounds bmin6us," Ilse said, trying to regain her composure.

"Let us say 'momentous' instead. It's only business, after all.

I'm sure the experience would prove invaluable to a young woman who plans a career in the world of finance."

In spite of her perilous situation@r perhaps because of it-Ilse accepted the invitation.

"Linah?" Horn called.

The tall Bantu woman appeared instantly.

"Escort Frau Apfel to the billiards room."

Ilse rose to go.

"And Frau Apfel," Horn said, "would you ask Pieter to join me when he has finished his game?"

Ilse nodded.

"You won't see me until tomorrow afternoon, possibly not until tomorrow evening. Pieter will show you around the estate in the morning. Certain rooms are locked, but you have the run of the house and grounds otherwise. Please refrain from using the telephone until the matter of the papers has been resolved."

With the touch of a button Horn wheeled his chair around the table.

"May I see your hand?"

Puzzled, Ilse slowly extended her hand. Before she knew what was happening, the wizened old man had bent his head and lightly kissed it.

She felt a sudden chill, but whether from physical revulsion or some deeper fear, she could not tell.

"I apologize for the young Englishman's rudeness," Horn said. "I shouldn't tolerate it, but his grandfather and I worked together during the war." Horn smiled wistfully.

"His grandfather was a very special man, and I feel some responsibility for his their. Gute Nacht, my dear."

The tall Bantu housekeeper took Ilse's elbow and led her into the hall, where she let Ilse take the lead. Ilse had the feeling that the woman's arm was but a fraction of an inch behind her own, ready to seize her if necessary. The long.

hall opened into a large gallery, which in turn gave onto two more beyond, each great room joined by means of a wide arch. Ilse gasped.

As far as she could see, the walls were lined with paintings. She knew a little about art, but the works she saw in the first room required no training to appreciate. The strokes of the great masters speak to a part of the psyche deeper than thought, and these were no reproductions.

Each canvas glowed with immanent passion; Ilse's eyes danced from painting to painting in wonder.

"My God," she murmured. "Where are we?"

Linah caught hold of Ilse's arm and tugged her along like an awestruck child. Even the marble floors bore their share of the treasure.

Classical sculptures, some over twelve feet high, rose like marble ghosts from pedestals in the center of each room. Ilse noticed that no work in any of the rooms seemed modern. Nothing had the asymmetrical distortions of Picasso, the geometric puzzles of Mondrian, or the radically commonplace ugliness of the "sculpture" so common in Berlin office parks. Everything was soft, romantic, inwardpulling.

Had she not been so stunned, she might have noticed that all the oh .

ets d'art-pgyptian and Greek sculpture, paintings from Holland, Belgium, and France-had come from countries plundered behind the merciless boot of the Wehrmacht during the 'thirties and 'forties. But she didn't notice. She simply stared until the dazzling exhibition ended and she found herself in the dark, wood-paneled billiards room where Pieter Smuts and the young Englishman had finished their second game.

"Well, take your bloody winnings!" Lord Gren, snapped.

"Don't mind if I do," Smuts retorted, grinning. He pocketed the crisp fifty-pound note that the Englishman handed over as casually as a wrinkled fiver.

"Herr Smuts?" Ilse said. "Herr Horn wishes you to join him."

The Afrikaner's smile faded as he hurried into the hallway.

"Up for a game, Friiulein?" the Englishman asked, tilting his cue toward Ilse.

"It's Frau," Ilse corrected coldly. "And I'd prefer to return to my room."

As Linah turned to lead her out, Ilse got the impression that the'Bantu woman approved of her decision not to remain. But as she followed the housekeeper out, she felt a light touch on her arm.

"Why not stay a moment?" whispered the Englishman. "It might do wonders for your husband's health."

Ilse froze. Without even thinking, she told Linah that she'd changed her mind. She would play one game before she retired.

The tall Bantu eyed the Englishman warily through the door. "I watch for Madam in the hall," she said. "You come soon."

"Soon," Ilse promised, closing the door.

"What do you know about my husband?" she asked pointedly.

"Not so fast, Fraulein." The Englishman racked the balls for another game. "Why don't you try being friendly? Since we're the only two civilized people in this godforsaken place."

"What do you mean?"

"What do you think I mean? Couldn't ygu tell at dinner?

They're mad as hatters, both of them! I'm almost mad myself from listening to them. I'm also the only chance you have of getting yourself and your husband out of here alive.

Break."

Ilse took a cue from the wall, walked to the table and opened the game by sinking the one and the five. She didn't know what to make of the arrogant Englishman. She suspected this was a trick to extract information from her, yet a voice deep inside her said to try to use this man-to try anything that might help her escape.

"How did you come to be here?" she asked. "I assume you weren't kidnapped, like me?"

The Englishman chuckled. "Not exactly.. But I wouldn't be averse to leaving, I can tell you that. For some years now Herr Horn and I have been involved in a very profitable business arrangement. Until recently it's been mostly from a distance. Alfred knew my grandfather-William Stanton, Lord Granville-before the war. I'm afraid my character runs a bit differently than my grandfather's, though. My primary interest is making money. Along with certain other distractions."

"Her-r Horn is not interested in money?"

"Not for its own sake, no. He's very political. Fancies himself a bloody Messiah, if you want to know. He and my grandfather did something big in England during the war, though neither of them ever told me what. Alfred has some kind of political agenda that dictates every move he makes.