The Apocalypse Watch (59 page)

“Then stand aside, youngster, and let me go to work.” Witkowski bent over Kroeger’s body, speaking at first softly into his left ear, asking the usual questions about his identity and his position in the neo-Nazi movement. They were answered briefly, succinctly, in a monotone, and then the colonel raised his voice; it became gradually threatening until it began to echo off the walls. “Now we’ve reached the nucleus,
Doktor
! Why do you want Harry Latham
killed
?”

Kroeger writhed on the table, straining to break the straps as he coughed and spat out gray phlegm. The embassy physician grabbed Witkowski’s arm; the colonel shook it off violently. “You’ve got thirty seconds,” said the doctor.

“
Tell
me, you tenth-rate Hitler, or you die
now
! I have no use for you, you son of a bitch! Tell me or go join your
Oberführer
in hell. It’s now or you’re gone!
Oblivion, Herr Doktor!
”

“Now you must stop,” said the embassy’s physician, again grabbing the colonel’s arm.

“Get the fuck away from me, pissant!… Did you hear that, Kroeger? I don’t give a goddamn if you live or die!
Tell
me! Why do you have to kill Harry Latham?
Tell
me!”

“It’s his
brain
!” shrieked Gerhardt Kroeger, thrashing on the table with such force he broke one of the leather straps. “His
brain
!” the Nazi repeated, then fell into unconsciousness.

“That’s all you get, Witkowski,” said the doctor firmly, shutting off the valves of the combined intravenous injections. “His heart rate is up to a hundred and forty. Another five points, he’s finished.”

“Let me tell you something, medicine man,” said the veteran G-2 colonel, “do you know what the heart rate is of the two hotel employees this scuzball blew across the lobby? It’s zero, Doctor, and I don’t think that’s very nice.”

*   *   *

The three of them sat at a table in an outdoor café on the rue de Varenne, Drew still in civilian clothes, Karin holding his hand underneath. Witkowski kept shaking his head, his bewilderment obvious. “What the hell did the son of a bitch mean when he kept saying ‘his
brain
’?”

“The first thought that comes to mind,” said Latham reluctantly, “is brainwashing, which I find hard to believe.”

“I agree,” said De Vries. “I knew that side of Harry, his obsession with control, if you like, and I can’t imagine his being mentally warped. He had too many defenses.”

“So where are we?” asked the colonel.

“An autopsy?” suggested Karin.

“What could it tell us, that he was poisoned?” answered Witkowski. “We can assume that, or something like it. Besides, all autopsies are assigned by the courts and must be registered with the Ministry of Health with accompanying medical records. We can’t take the chance. Remember, Harry’s not Harry now.”

“Then it’s back to the beginning,” said Drew. “And I don’t even know where that is.”

In the morgue on the rue Fontenay, the attendant whose duty it was to check on the corpses in their refrigerated, temporary tombs, went down the line, sliding out each body to ascertain that the bloodless corpses were properly identified, and not moved due to overcrowding. He reached number one hundred one, a special case as determined by a red check mark signifying no removal, and opened it.

He gasped, not certain that what he saw made any sense at all. The skull of the near faceless corpse had a huge, gaping hole, as if a postmortem explosion had taken place, the fragments of skin and tissue spread out like an opening strawberry, the fluid gray and diseased-looking. Quickly, the attendant closed the vault, not caring even to breathe the gaseous residue. Let someone else find it.

C
laude Moreau issued an irreversible order at eight-thirty in the morning. Latham and De Vries were again under the protection of the Deuxième. American security might offer suggestions as to their safety, but the Deuxième alone would make all final decisions. Unless, of course, the two decided to remain confined to their embassy, which under international law was American territory and therefore beyond the Deuxième’s jurisdiction. When Drew roared his objections, Moreau’s answer was succinct.

“I cannot permit the citizens of Paris to risk their lives being caught in the crossfire of those trying to kill you,” said the Frenchman, sitting across from Drew and Karin in the suite at the Hotel Normandie.

“That’s bullshit!” yelled Latham, putting his morning coffee down with such force that half of it spilled onto the rug. “Nobody’s going to start a war in the streets. It’s the last thing they’d do!”

“Perhaps, perhaps not. So why don’t you both move into the embassy, and the question becomes irrelevant? I’d have no objections whatsoever, and the citizens of Paris would be free of harm.”

“You know I’ve got to move around!” Drew rose from the couch angrily, his undersize hotel bathrobe constricting him.

“Then move with my people or stay off the streets. That’s final,
mon ami.…
Oh, and one other thing. Wherever you go, whatever you do, will be cleared by me.”

“You not only talk too much, you’re
impossible
!”

“Speaking of the impossible,” continued the Deuxième
chief, “Ambassador Courtland is arriving on the Concorde at five o’clock this afternoon. His wife will be meeting him at the airport. I don’t know that any amount of training prepares a man for the charade he will have to perform.”

“If Courtland can’t handle it, he should take himself out,” said Drew, pouring coffee for himself and returning to the couch with his cup.

Moreau raised his eyebrows at Latham’s curt tone. “Perhaps you’re right,
mon ami
. One way or the other we’ll have our answer before nightfall,
n’est-ce pas
?… Now, as to the rest of the day, I want you to familiarize yourselves with the Bureau’s protection procedures. They’re quite different from my friend Witkowski’s operation, but then, the colonel does not have the resources we have.”

“Incidentally,” Drew broke in, “have you run all this by Witkowski? Does he agree with your off-the-wall ‘orders’?”

“He not only agrees, he’s filled with relief. I think you should know that he’s extremely fond of both of you—perhaps the edge goes to the lovely Karin—and he’s aware that my resources are far greater than his. Also, he and Wesley Sorenson have their hands full orchestrating the reunion of the ambassador and his wife, a most delicate situation that calls for constant monitoring. What more can I say?”

“You’ve said it,” said Latham without enthusiasm. “What do you want us to do?”

“To begin with, meet and familiarize yourselves with our escorts. They all speak fluent English, and the leader, in fact, is your aid-in-survival in the Gabriel—”

“François, the driver?”

“Who else? The others will be around you night and day. There will always be two in the hotel corridor when you are here. Then, perhaps, I thought you might be interested in our various surveillances on Le Pare de Joie and Madame Courtland. Everything’s in place.”

“I’ll get dressed,” said Drew, again rising and taking his coffee with him as he headed for the bedroom door.

“Don’t forget to shave, darling. Your dark stubble is rather apparent in contrast to your hair.”

“That’s another thing,” mumbled Latham. “I want to wash that stuff out just as soon as possible,” he added clearly, walking into the room and closing the door behind him.

“
Bien
,” said Moreau, continuing in French. “We may talk now, madame.”

“Yes, I knew this was coming. A few moments ago your eyes were like two rifles aimed at me.”

“Shall we speak German?”

“No need to. He can’t hear anything in there and French, when spoken rapidly, escapes his ear anyway. Where do we begin?”

“With the obvious,” replied the chief of the Deuxième matter-of-factly. “When do you intend to tell him? Or do you?”

“I see,” said Karin, drawing out the two words. “And if I could speak for both of us, I might ask the same of you, mightn’t I?”

“You refer to my own secret, not so? The reason why I take the risks I do to destroy the fanatical German wherever I can find him.”

“Yes, I do.”

“Very well. You won’t be in a position to spread the information, thus harming my family, so why not?… I had a sister, Marie, quite a bit younger than I, and as our father had died, she looked upon me as taking his place, and certainly I adored her. She was so alive, so filled with the innocence of blossoming youth, and to add to that crown of spring flowers, she was a dancer—perhaps not a prima ballerina, but certainly an accomplished member of the corps de ballet. However, during the angriest years of the Cold War, solely to avenge themselves on me, the East German Stasi destroyed that glorious child. They kidnapped her and rapidly turned her into a drug addict, forcing her into prostitution to support her induced habit. She collapsed and died on the Unter den Linden at the age of twenty-six, begging for food or money, as she could no
longer sell her body.… That is my secret, Karin. It’s not very pretty, is it?”

“It’s
horrible
,” said De Vries. “And you were helpless to do anything about it, about her?”

“I did not know. Our mother had passed away, and I was in deep cover in the Mediterranean sector for thirteen months. When I returned to Paris, I found in my long-suspended mail four photographs, courtesy of the East Berlin Polizei, by way of the Stasi. They showed what was left in death of my child sister.”

“I could cry, and I mean that, Claude, I’m not merely saying it.”

“I’m sure you do, my dear, for you have an equally agonizing story to tell, is it not so?”

“How did you find out?”

“I’ll explain later. First, I must ask you again. When will you tell our American friend? Or don’t you intend to do so?”

“I can’t right now—”

“Then you are merely
using
him,” interrupted Moreau.

“Yes, I
am
,” exclaimed De Vries. “That’s the way it started but not the way it’s turned out. Think what you will of me, but I do love him—I’ve
come
to love him. It’s a far greater shock to me than anyone else. He has so many qualities of the Freddie I married—too many, in fact, and that frightens me. He’s warm and searching and angry; he’s a good man who’s trying to find his focus, or his compass, or whatever you want to call it. He’s as lost as we all are, but he’s determined to find answers. Freddie was like that at the beginning. Before he changed and became an obsessed animal.”

“We both heard Drew several minutes ago talking about Courtland. I was appalled at his coldness. Is this the Freddie syndrome?”

“No, not at all. Drew is becoming the brother he’s impersonating. He has to be Harry.”

“Then how far down the road does he become Freddie? The animal?”

“He can’t, he
can’t
. He’s too decent for that.”

“Then tell him the truth.”

“What
is
truth?”

“Start with honesty, Karin.”

“What’s honest any longer?”

“Your husband’s alive. Frederik de Vries is alive, but nobody knows where he is or who he is.”

The Deuxième escort consisted of the driver of reckless abandon, François, and two guards whose names were spoken so rapidly that Latham dubbed them “Monsieur Frick” and “Monsieur Frack.”

“Are your daughters speaking to you, François?” asked Drew from the backseat as he and Monsieur Frack flanked Karin.

“Not a word,” replied the driver. “My wife was quite harsh with them, explaining that they should respect their father.”

“Did it do any good?”

“None. They marched to their room and closed the door, on which they hung a sign reading Private.”

“Is this something I should know about?” said De Vries.

“Only the obvious conclusion that children of the female species can be notoriously cruel to their saintly fathers,” answered Latham.

“I think I’ll let that pass.”

Twenty minutes later they arrived at the Deuxième Bureau, a nondescript stone building with an underground parking area that was entered only after the scrutiny of armed guards. Frick and Frack took Drew and Karin up in a steel-encased electronic elevator that required an inordinately long series of codes to operate. They reached the fifth floor and were escorted to Moreau’s office, less of an office actually than a large living room, the Venetian blinds half closed. What comforts existed were shockingly intruded upon by an array of computers and various other high-tech equipment.

“You know how to make all of this stuff work?” asked Drew, sweeping his hand around the room.

“What I don’t know, my newly appointed secretary does, and what she doesn’t, my associate Jacques does.
And if we really get in trouble, I’ll simply call up my new friend, Madame de Vries.”

“
Mon Dieu
,” exclaimed Karin, “this is a technologist’s dream! Look over there, you’re in instant contact with a dozen relaying satellites, and
there
, telecommunications to every remote section of the world that has receiving equipment, which you obviously have in place or it wouldn’t be here.”

“I have a little trouble with that one,” said Moreau. “Perhaps you could help.”

“The frequencies revolve constantly, even mini-second by mini-second,” said De Vries. “The Americans are working on it.”

“They were, but a computer scientist named Rudolph Metz gave them a little trouble when he fled the United States and disappeared into Germany. He spread an eliminating virus throughout the entire system; they’re still trying to recover.”

“Whoever perfects it will have the secrets of the globe,” said Karin.

“Then let us hope the Brüderschaft require the equipment Metz left behind,” added the chief of the Deuxième Bureau. “Yet this is futile speculation. We have other things to show you, or more appropriately, for you to listen to. As promised, and with Witkowski’s help at the embassy, we’ve invaded the ambassador’s private telephone, a telephone that searches all channels and will operate only on one that is supposedly intercept-free. Le Pare de Joie was far simpler; we simply jammed their lines on a pretext of a fire at the phone company. It was widely reported and caused thousands of complaints, but the ruse was accepted.… Actually, we did start a fire, more smoke than flames, but it worked.”