The Apocalypse Watch (78 page)

“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.”

“How about the
Nazis?
Is anyone frightened of them, lady?”

“They are garbage,
mein Herr
! No decent person supports them.”

“What the hell do you think Traupman is?”

“A bad man, a senile old man—”

“He’s a goddamned
Nazi
!”

It was as though the young woman had been struck in the face. She winced and shook her head. “I have no … no knowing of such a thing. His
Freunde
 … in
der Medizin
, they have respect. Many are
berühmt
. So famous.”

“That’s his cover,” said Witkowski in German. “He’s one of the leaders of the movement, that’s why we want him.”

“I can’t do any more than I am doing, sir! I’m sorry, but I cannot. You have the tapes, that’s all I promised. Now you must make it possible for me to leave Germany, for if what you say is true, I will be marked by the Nazi pigs.”

“We honor our agreements, miss.” The colonel turned to Latham and spoke in English. “We’re out of here,
chłopak
. We can’t take the bastard without jeopardizing the whole operation. We’ll fly to Bonn in an hour or so on a Deuxième plane and wait for the son of a bitch there.”

“Do you think he’ll still go to Bonn tomorrow?” asked Drew.

“I don’t think he has a choice. Also, I’m counting on a German chain of command, which is a lot more rigid than ours. Blame is to be avoided at all costs, which is pretty much the same as ours, actually.”

“Clarification, please?”

“Each of Traupman’s bodyguards has been drugged. They’ll come to in twenty or thirty minutes, scared shitless no doubt, and immediately check on the penthouse.”

“Where they’ll find Traupman peacefully asleep,” interrupted Latham. “But what about the tapes, Stosh?”

Witkowski looked at the young blond woman and asked the same question. Traupman’s lady of the evening opened her purse and pulled out a key. “This is one of the two keys to the steel cabinet that holds the rest of the tapes,” she answered in German. “The other is in the Nuremberg National Bank.”

“Will he miss the key?”

“I don’t believe he’ll even think about it. He keeps it in the second drawer of his bureau, beneath his underwear.”

“Then I ask this only because I must. Did he tape your activities this evening?”

“Certainly not, it would be too embarrassing. After I met with your associate in the ladies’ room, I saw, as they say, my way out. I always carry an eyedropper filled with a sleep-inducing narcotic in the event the evening becomes too repulsive.”

“Yet you’re an addict yourself, aren’t you?”

“It would be ridiculous to deny it. I have sufficient dosages to last me three days. After that I have been promised to be put on private subsistence in America.… I did not choose to become an addict, sir, I was led into it, as it was for so many of my sisters in East Berlin. We all became high-priced official hostesses and consequently addicts so we could survive.”

“We’re
out
of here,” yelled Witkowski. “These kids are victims!”

“Then let’s go, Colonel-mine,” said Latham. “Captain Dietz will get his chance on the Rhine after all.”

One by one, the disoriented bodyguards converged in the hallway outside Traupman’s door. Each of their accounts of what happened was different, yet each was the same, the variations due to self-serving excuses, for none really
knew
what had happened. That they had been attacked was a given, but none was seriously injured.

“We’d better go inside and see if there’s damage,” said the man whose breath was born in a distillery.

“Nobody could
get
inside!” protested the guard who manned the hallway desk. “There would be a crowd up here if anyone had tried. The alarm simultaneously alerts the lobby security
and
the police.”

“Still, we were assaulted and drugged,” insisted the bodyguard whose hands roamed around his stomach and private parts, scratching furiously.

“I hope to God you’re seeing a doctor,” said the whisky-prone man. “I don’t want to catch what you’ve got.”

“Then don’t have a picnic on the banks of the Regnitz with a slut who makes love in the weeds. The
bitch!
… 
We must go inside, if only to learn whether we have to get the hell out of Nuremberg.”

“I’ll deactivate the alarm and free the door,” said the desk guard, bending over unsteadily and touching a series of numbers on his console. “There, it’s unlocked.”

“You go first,” instructed the riverbank lover.

Four minutes later the threesome returned to the hallway, perplexed, uncertain, each in his own way stunned.

“I don’t know what to think,” said the large man. “The doctor is sleeping peacefully, nothing was upset, no papers in his study disturbed—”

“And no young woman!” interrupted the scratch merchant.

“You think …?”

“I
know
,” pronounced the guard whose skin was driving him crazy. “I tried to tell the doctor subtly, you understand, that she was not good for him. She lives with a hot-tempered policeman who’s separated from his wife, and, God knows,
he
can’t afford her habit.”

“The police … the alarms … she could have done it all with her boyfriend’s help,” said the hallway guard, sitting down at his desk and picking up the phone from his console. “There’s one way to find out,” he continued. “We’ll call her apartment.” Reading from a list of prominent numbers encased in plastic, he dialed. A full minute passed and he replaced the phone. “There’s no answer. They’ve either left the city or are out somewhere establishing an alibi.”

“For
what
?” asked the guard, nervously drinking from his flask, unnerved because it was now empty.