“Karin Doring and her group. We believe Felix Richter may have gone there as well. My investigators were looking into it.” “Your investigation was compromised,” Rodgers said.
“How do you know that?” “They tried to kill my man and the girl,” Rodgers relied.
“Hauptmann, they’ve been running for hours and there isn’t time to get help to them. A large group of neo-Nazis is closing in on my man. If we’re going to save them, I need you to do something for me.” “What?” Rodgers told him. The Hauptanann agreed. A minute later, Op-Center’s communications expert Rosalind Green was making the arrangements.
CHAPTER SIXTY-SIX Thursday, 11:49 P.M., Wunstorf, Germany
The phone beeped in the dark.
The man nearest it, young Rolf Murnau, stopped and listened. When he heard the muffled beep a second time, he turned his flashlight to the left. Then he walked several paces, through closely knit branches. His flashlight beam formed a cone of light on top of a body. From the broad shoulders, he could tell the body was that of Manfred Piper.
Beyond it lay Karin Doring’s body.
“Come here!” Rolf shouted. “My God, come quickly!” Several men and women ran over at once, their flashlight beams crisscrossing as they approached. Several gathered around Manfred’s body and looked down as the phone rang a third time, then a fourth. Several others ran over to Karin Doring.
Rolf had already bent beside the body. The blood had formed a large, dark blot on the back of Manfred’s jacket, with tendrils reaching down the sides. Rolf turned the body over slowly. Manfred’s eyes were shut, his mouth open and lopsided.
“She’s dead,” a man said from Karin’s side. “Damn them, dead!” The phone rang again and then again. Rolf looked up into the beams. “What should I do?” he asked.
Footsteps crunched toward him. “Answer it,” Felix Richter said.
“Yes, sir,” Rolf said. He was numb from the loss of his leaders, his heroes, as he reached into Manfred’s jacket. He removed the phone. After a moment of feeling invasive, then ghoulish, he flipped open the unit and answered.
“Ja?” he said tentatively.
“This is Hauptmann Karl Rosenlocher,” said the caller.
“I want to speak with whoever is in command of you animals.” Rolf looked up at the light. “Herr Richter? He wants to speak with the commander.” “Who does?” Richter asked.
Rolf said, “Hauptmann Karl Rosenlocher.” Even in the dark Rolf saw Richter stiffen. More and more of the neo-Nazis were gathering as word spread of the deaths. Groups formed around Karin and Manfred as Richter stood there.
Jean-Michel arrived as Richter took the phone. Slowly, the German brought it to his mouth.
“This is Felix Richter.” “You know my voice,” said Rosenlocher. “I want you to hear this voice.” A moment later a young woman said in English, “I told you you didn’t beat me. You’ll never win, any of you.” Richter said, “Child, we will come after you.” Rosenlocher came back on. “No you won’t, Herr Richter. She’s safe with me, along with the American who got her out. He called for me to collect them. As for you, this is one fire you won’t be escaping.” Richter’s eyes peered through the dark woods as he motioned several men over. He covered the mouthpiece.
“Guns,” he said. “Get ready with your guns!” The men raised their weapons.
Richter said, “I’ll meet force with force of my own.” “It won’t do you any good,” Rosenlocher said slowly, confidently. “This fire is from within.” “What are you talking about?” “How do you think the American got to your camp tonight?” Rosenlocher asked. “He’s one man in a wheelchair.
Or is he?” Richter peered into the dark.
“You were infiltrated, Herr Richter,” said Rosenlocher.
“My people are with you now. They helped him.
“You’re lying,” Richter said tensely.
“They’ve been with you all day,” said Rosenlocher: “Watching. Preparing. Helping the American. You’ve lost key personnel tonight, haven’t you, Herr Richter?” Richter wasn’t able to see very far in the thick night. “I don’t believe this, and I don’t believe you.” “Come after me. Perhaps a firelight will ensue. People will be firing into the dark. Who knows who will fall, Herr Richter? From which site will the bullet come?” “You wouldn’t dare murder me,” said the neo-Nazi.
“The truth will be discovered. You’ll be ruined. There are laws.” Rosenlocher said, “Karin ignored them when she attacked the movie set. Do you think the public will care, Herr Richter? Will they really care when they learn that coldblooded murderers were slain?” Richer said, “You won’t win, Hauptmann. If I terminate this chase or leave now, you can do nothing!” “It’s out of my hands,” said Rosenlocher. “I’m only calling to say good-bye. That, and to let you know I will not be among those who mourn.” The Hauptmann hung up. Richter threw down the telephone. “Damn his blood!” “What is it?” someone asked.
Richter shook a fist and glared at his accomplices.
“Hauptmann Rosenlocher says that we have been infiltrated by members of the Hamburg Landespolizei.” Rolf said, “Here?” “Here,” Richter said. He looked around. “Of course he’s lying. It’s idiotic, insane!” He thought aloud, “But why lie?
He has the girl and the American. What does he gain?” “Maybe he wasn’t lying,” one man said nervously.
Richter looked at him. “Do you want me to call off the pursuit? Maybe you are one of his men!” “Herr Richter!” shouted another. “I have known Jorgen for years. He is true to the cause.” “Maybe the policeman is lying,” said another man.
“Why?” Richter asked. “What does he gain? Fear?
Dissent? Indecision? Panic?” He roared gutturally, “What does he gain?” Jean-Michel said from behind him, “Time.” Richter spun on him. “What are you talking about?” “The Hauptmann gains time,” Jean-Michel said smoothly. “We find the bodies, stop to take care of them, then stand around trying to figure out who may or may not be a traitor. And as we do, Rosenlocher puts more distance between himself and us.” “To what end?” Richter asked. “He has what he came for.” “Does he?” asked Jean-Michel. “I don’t think the American and the girl have had enough time to reach the Autobahn. Perhaps the cripple had a phone with him and called the Hauptmann.” The Frenchman came closer. “You did, after all, give a speech in which you named your worst enemy.” Richter glared at him.
Jean-Michel asked, “It isn’t difficult to generate a conference call, to make it seem as if Rosenlocher, the American, and the girl are all together.” Richter shut his eyes.
“You made the kind of mistake a leader cannot afford to make,” said Jean-Michel. “You told the American how to beat you, provided him with the name of the one man he could trust. And now you may be giving that enemy the chance to weaken you with an old psychological game.” Richter bent slowly at the knees. Then he shook his fists at the sky and screamed, “Get them!” The Germans hesitated.
“We should take care of the bodies,” said one man.
“That’s what the Hauptmann wants you to do!” Richter screamed.
“I don’t care,” said the man. “It’s the right thing.” Rolf was in turmoil, buffeted by grief and rage. But above all, there was duty. He turned his flashlight around and started out. “I’m going after the Americans,” he said.
“That’s what Karin Doring and Manfred Piper would have wanted, and that’s what I’m going to do.” Several others followed wordlessly, then more and more of them joined in. They moved quickly to make up for lost time and also to bum off their anger.
But as Rolf picked his way through the woods, tears rolled down his cheeks. The tears of a little boy who was still very close to the surface of the young man. The tears of someone whose dreams of a future with Feuer had just turned to ash.
CHAPTER SIXTY-SEVEN Thursday, 11:15 P.M., Toulouse, France
Colonel Brett August’s primary job with NATO was to help plan maneuvers. Though his specialty was infantry assaults, he had been fortunate to work with experts in aerial and nautical attacks as well. One of the men with him, Airman Boisard, had worked on aerial extractions in Bosnia.
August enjoyed working with men like him to see which maneuvers could be transplanted, mixed, and mutated to surprise the enemy.
For the bastide, however, he had decided to go with a simple, proven two-by-two assault. Two men advance while two men cover, then the two covering men move in while the forward pair covers them. Even if eight or ten or twenty men were going in, four men were always responsible for each other. It enabled the assault to remain tight, focused, and to strike with laser accuracy. If a man fell, the squad switched to a double-leapfrog assault. The rear man moves to the middle while the front man covers, then moves to the front while the rear man covers. That way, he isn’t accidentally shot by his own teammate. If two men fell, the remaining two went in leapfrog. If three men fell, the last man hunkered down and tried to keep the enemy pinned down.