The Apocalypse Watch (97 page)

“It’s nasty,” said the colonel, examining the wound, “but the blood’s not gushing.” He yanked out his garrote, and swiftly wrapped it around the girl’s leg and tightened the straps. “That’ll hold for a while.”

Etranger One and Two had pinned the dead Nazi aide against the inner wall to the left of what had to be the electronic print-scan release, a dimly lit space large enough for a hand to be inserted, the palm pressed downward. If the imprint matched a computerized previous entry, the huge steel door would presumably open. However, if a mismatched imprint were made, an alarm would go off in the thick-walled, vaultlike quarters beyond.

“Ready, monsieur?” asked E-Two, gripping the neo-Nazi’s lifeless right wrist.

“Wait a minute!” said Latham. “Suppose he’s left-handed?”

“So?”

“The photoelectric cells would reject it and the alarm would go off. That’s the way these things work.”

“We can’t wake him up to ask him, monsieur.”

“That cigarette holder—it was in his left hand.… Let’s look in his pockets.” The search of the dead man proceeded. “Coins and money clip—left trouser pocket,” continued Drew, “pack of cigarettes, left jacket pocket; two ballpoint pens,
right
inside jacket pocket, and the suit’s custom-made, not off the rack.”

“I don’t understand—”

“Left-handed people prefer to reach for pencils and pens on their right side, just as someone like me, who’s right-handed, reaches over to the left. It’s easier, that’s all.”

“Your decision, monsieur?”

“I’ve got to go with my gut on this,” said Latham, breathing deeply. “Move him over to the other side and I’ll stick his left hand in there.”

The Frenchmen slid the corpse along the wall to the right side of the space. Drew grabbed the left wrist, and, as though he were dismantling a complicated bomb, he inserted the hand and slowly, cautiously, pressed the palm down on the inside surface. No one breathed until the large steel door silently opened. The dead Nazi fell to the floor and the four men walked inside. The chamber they entered was more a horrifying nightmare than someone’s living quarters.

The massive room was octagonal in shape with a glass dome that let the moonlight stream through. The courtesan, Elyse, had called it a pharaoh’s tomb, an inhabited grave, and in several ways she was correct. It was eerily silent, no sound permitted from the outside, and instead of a pharaoh’s possessions to see him across the river of death, there was a wall of medical equipment to prevent him from entering those waters. There were eight doors, one for each immense panel of the octagon. Elyse had told them that General Monluc’s aides had their rooms within the tomb; five doors had to belong to the dark suits, leaving three unknown, one presumably a bathroom, two … question marks.

All this registered upon second and third glances, but what first assaulted the eyes of a stranger were the grotesquely enlarged photographs on the walls everywhere, all bathed in bloodred light that shone up from the baseboards. They were a record of Nazi atrocities; it was like a dark corridor in a Holocaust museum—the horrors visited upon the Jews and “undesirables” by the madmen of Hitler’s messianic hordes, with photographs of dead naked bodies piled in heaps. Next to them were pictures of blond men and women—presumably traitors—hanging by their necks from ropes, the faces contorted in agony, reminders that all dissent, no matter how minor, was prohibited. Only the sickest of minds could wake up in the night and be instantly gratified by the obscene panoply.

The most mesmerizing sight, however, was the night-shirted figure on the bed. It was bathed in dull white light, in contrast to the magenta-red wash illuminating the walls. A very,
very
old man reclined on soft pillows that dwarfed his body, his wizened face sunk in the billowing silk as if he were in a casket. And that
face
. The closer one looked, the more hypnotic it became.

The sunken cheeks, the deep-set eyeballs! Both skeletal with age. The short mustache beneath the nostrils, now snow white but clipped precisely; the pale face, easily remembered as having been flushed with oratorical rage—it was all there! Even the famous twitch in the right eye that had developed after the assassination attempt at Wolfs-schanze. All
there
! It was the aged face of
Adolf Hitler
!

“Jesus Christ!” whispered Witkowski. “Is it
possible
?”

“It’s not
im
possible, Stanley. It would answer a lot of questions that have been asked for over fifty years. Especially two: Who really were the charred bodies in that bunker pit, and how did the rumor start that the
Führer
had made it to an airport disguised as an old woman? I mean how,
why
?… No time now, Stosh, we’ve got to secure this pharaoh’s tomb before it becomes one.”

“Call in the French unit.”

“Not until we make sure nothing here can self-destruct. Because if there
is
anything here, it’s in these rooms.… We’ll pull our pharaoh’s four other aides out.”

“How do you propose to do that,
chłopak
?”

“One customer at a time, Colonel. The doors have knobs and you can bet your ass they’re not locked on the inside. Not in the Fourth Reich, where privacy is hardly a priority in the upper ranks, specifically as Monluc—or whoever he is—is surrounded by them.”

“Good point,” admitted Witkowski, “you’re growing up, lad, getting pretty damn smart.”

“I’ll treasure that comment.” Latham silently signaled for Dietz and the French agents to join him and the colonel by the steel door. He whispered his instructions and the three men went to work as a team. One by one the doors were opened and closed, the beams of dull blue pen-lights crisscrossing one another while the doors were being closed. When the last of the eight had been visited, Captain Dietz reported to Drew.

“None of those mothers will move for a couple of hours.”

“You’re sure of that? Are they tied securely, no glass or knives or razors around?”

“They’re tied all right, Cons-Op, but we really didn’t have to.”

“What do you mean?”

The commando removed a hypodermic needle and a vial of liquid from his pocket. “About a quarter of an inch apiece, right, Colonel?”

“
What?
”

“Well, you can’t think of everything,
chłopak
. It was just a backup.… Into the left-arm arteries, correct, Captain?”

“Yes, sir. Number Two squeezed ’em so I couldn’t miss.”

“You’re very big with surprises, Stanley. Anything else you haven’t told me?”

“I’d have to think about it.”

“Please, forget it,” whispered Latham, turning to the commando. “What was in the other three rooms?”

“The one nearest the bed is the biggest bathroom you’ve ever seen, chrome bars everywhere so the old guy can get around. The other two are actually one room. The
wall’s been taken down, and it’s loaded with computer stuff.”

“
Bingo
,” said Drew. “Now all we need is an expert with that equipment.”

“I thought we had one. Her name’s Karin, in case you’ve forgotten.”

“My God, you’re right! Now, listen to me, Dietz. You, our Colonel Great Spy here, and E-One and E-Two, stay on both sides of old Monluc’s bed—”

“You say he’s Monluc,” interrupted Dietz, “but I say he’s somebody else, and I don’t even want to
think
about it!”

“Then don’t. Just flank him and if he wakes up, don’t let him touch
anything
. Not a button, a switch, a wire he might pull out, anything! We’ve got to invade those computers and learn whatever’s there.”

“Why not use the colonel’s magic needle, Cons-Op?”

“What …?”

“Instead of a quarter of an inch, maybe an inch.”

“I don’t know, Captain,” said Witkowski, “I’m not a doctor. At his age, that stuff might not be exactly restorative.”

“So we go back to a quarter, what’s the difference?”

“Not a bad idea,” whispered Drew. “
If
you can do it.”

“Hey, that Number Two’s a whiz with the veins. I think he must have been a medic.”

“All Foreign Legionnaires have medic training,” explained the colonel. “What are
you
going to do, Mr. Cons-Op?”

“What you want me to do. I’m closing that steel door and calling in the assault unit. Then I’ll reach Karin and our lieutenant and tell them to follow.” Latham pulled out his radio, switched military frequencies, and ordered the French Etranger unit to blow out the front gates and use its loudspeaker equipment before attacking the château. He switched back to the promontory. “Listen up, you two. The French are coming in. When the place is secure, I’ll call you back; and, Karin, come up to the top floor as fast as you can, but
only
when
everything’s
under control! Not before! Understood?”

“Yes,” replied the lieutenant. “Then you guys made it?”

“We made it, Gerry, but it’s far from over. These people are Fascist maniacs; they’ll hide in corners just to take one of us out. Don’t let Karin get ahead of you—”

“I’m quite capable of making those decisions—”

“Oh, shut up! Out!” Drew raced over to Monluc’s bed as Etranger Two and Dietz prepared to fully sedate the withered old man.

“
Now!
” said the commando. E-Two gripped the thin left arm, pressing the flesh of the inside elbow. “Where’s the
vein
?” cried Dietz in French.

“He’s old. The first blue you see, hit the center!”

“
Mein Gott!
” screamed the bedridden ancient, his eyes suddenly bulging, his mouth twisted, the twitch in his right eye going spastic. What followed caused Witkowski to blanch, his whole body trembling. The diatribe in shrieking German was electrifying, the voice strident beyond any normal use of vocal cords. “If they will bomb
Berlin
, we shall destroy
London
! They send a hundred planes, we will send thousands upon
thousands
until the city is no more than blood and rubble! We shall teach the English a lesson in
death
! We shall—” The old man collapsed back into the silk pillows.

“Check his pulse!” said Latham. “He’s got to stay alive.”

“It is rapid, but it is there, monsieur,” said Etranger Two.

“Do you know what that son of a bitch just recited?” asked Stanley Witkowski, his face pale. “He gave Hitler’s response to the first bombing of Berlin. Word for
word
!… I can’t
believe
this.”

Below, outside on the road in front of the château, armored trucks of the assault unit fired their rockets, blowing apart the gates. A voice from a loudspeaker filled the night, heard thousands of yards away. “All inside throw down your arms or be killed! Come outside and show yourselves without your weapons! The government of France has so ordered and our men will sweep this château,
firing on any personnel who remain inside. You have two minutes to comply with our demands!”

Slowly, in fear, dozens of men and women walked out, their hands raised in surrender. They lined up in the circular drive, guards, cooks, waiters, and whores. The voice from the loudspeaker continued. “If any are left inside, we tell you now—you are dead!”

Suddenly a blond man broke a window on the third floor and shouted. “I will come down, sirs, but I must find someone. Shoot me if you will, but I must
find
her! You have my word, my weapons!” A further crash of glass preceded the hurling out of a pistol and a semiautomatic; they crashed on the drive and the figure disappeared.

“
Entrez!
” cried the voice on the loudspeaker as eight men in combat gear raced into the various entrances like spiders crawling swiftly toward insects caught in their webs. There was sporadic gunfire, not a great deal, as a few fanatic diehards died in pursuit of the obscene. At the last, an Etranger officer emerged from the front doors, a drunken Jacques Bergeron stumbling before him.

“We have our traitor from the Deuxième!” he announced in French. “And he is as drunk as a politician.”

“
Enough
. Let the two others inside.”

Karin and Lieutenant Anthony ran through the shattered dual gates heading for the central entrance. “He said to go up the staircase!” yelled De Vries, in front of the lieutenant.

“For Christ’s sake, will you please
wait
for me? I’m supposed to protect you!”

“If you’re slow, Gerry, that’s not my fault.”

“If you get shot, Cons-Op will blow my privates off!”

“I’ve got a gun, Lieutenant, don’t you worry about a thing!”

“Thanks a bunch,
amazon
. My God, this arm hurts!”

Suddenly they both stopped, arrested by what they saw on the third-floor landing. A blond-haired guard held a young woman in his arms, carrying her down the staircase, tears in his eyes. “She’s hurt quite badly,” he said in German, “but she is alive.”

“You were the man in the window,
ja
?” asked Anthony, also in German.

“Yes, sir. She and I were friends, and she should never have been in this terrible place.”

“Take her downstairs and tell the others to get her to a doctor,” said the lieutenant. “Hurry up!”

“
Danke
.”

“Sure, but if you’re a liar, I’ll kill you myself.”

“I am not a liar, sir. I have been many bad things, but I do not lie.”

“I believe him,” said Karin, “let him go.” They reached the top floor, but there was no way to open the steel door, no bell, no signal, nothing at all. “Drew was emphatic, he wanted me here, but how do I get
in
?”

“Trust a young old lieutenant,” replied Anthony, having spotted the palm-release space in the wall. “We’re going to set off an alarm.… These things were old hat a couple of
years
ago.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Watch me.” Gerald Anthony inserted his hand in the opening and pressed his palm down. In seconds the steel door was opened by a startled Latham, the alarm inside ear-shattering.

“What the hell have you
done
?” shouted Drew.

“Shut the door, boss man, and it will go off.”

Latham did so and the bell went off. “How did you know that?” he asked.