The Apocalypse Watch (46 page)

“What were her qualifications?” asked the stunned Latham.

“I can bring them up in a couple of minutes,” replied Rowe.

“Don’t bother,” said Witkowski. “I can give you a fairly accurate picture; it isn’t often security’s told to clear an ambassador’s wife. Janine Clunes, University of Chicago, its think tank, Ph.D. and full professorship in computer science before marrying Courtland after his divorce about a year and a half ago.”

“She’s brilliant,” added Karin. “She’s also the sweetest, kindest woman in D and R. If she hears somebody has a problem and thinks she can help, she’ll go right to her husband. Everyone adores her because, among other reasons, she never takes advantage of her position; to the contrary, she constantly covers for those who may be late, or can’t complete their assignments on time. She’s always offering to help.”

“A real roving butterfly,” said Drew. “
Christ
, is Courtland now on our list,
Harry’s
list?”

“I can’t believe that,” answered the colonel. “I’m not very partial to him, but I can’t believe it. He’s been too open with us, even gone out on a limb for us. I remind you and Karin that we wouldn’t be here without his giving us the go-ahead, because we
shouldn’t
be here unless we had clearance from the State Department, D.C., the CIA, the National Security Council, and probably the Joint Chiefs.”

“The only people left out are in the White House,” said the irreverent Greenberg. “But then, what do they know? They’re too busy trying to get their free parking spaces back.”

“I remember reading about Courtland’s divorce in
The Washington Post
,” interrupted Drew, looking at Stanley Witkowski. “As I recall, he gave everything to his wife and children, admitting that the constant relocations of a State Department officer were no way to bring up the kids.”

“I can understand that,” said the colonel coldly, returning Latham’s look. “But it doesn’t necessarily mean his current wife is the other informer.”

“Of course it doesn’t,” broke in Jack Rowe. “My comrade in computer arms merely said he had a possible, right, Joel?”

“I believe he said ‘probable,’
right
, Joel?” Latham said.

“Okay, Cons-Op, because I happen to believe it. The Big Bird fed us too much not to. Don’t tell me Courtland doesn’t know about our lady from NATO here, and please don’t tell me they haven’t talked about her. Her looks, her remoteness, her NATO duty—she’s high-quality fodder for the rumor mill. If anyone was a logical candidate for suspicion, I submit it’s Mrs. de Vries. At least it throws people off the scent for the real mole.”

“What about languages?” said Latham, turning to Karin. “They’d have to be important.”

“Janine speaks an acceptable French and Italian, but her German is completely fluent—” De Vries stopped, aware of what she just said.

“A ‘probable,’ ” mused Drew softly. “Where do we go from here?”

“I’ve gone,” replied Greenberg. “I just sent a query to Chicago, asking for in-depth data on Professor Clunes. That stuff is all stored, so it should be coming back in a minute or two.”

“How can you be sure?” asked Karin. “It’s nearly midnight there.”

“
Shhh!
” whispered the computer scientist in mock secrecy. “Chicago’s a government-funded database, like the earthquake equipment, but don’t tell anybody. Someone’s always there because no one on the taxpayer’s payroll wants to find his pants wet for withholding information from a machine like ours.”

“Here it comes!” cried Jack Rowe as the screen lit up from Chicago.

“That’s not ‘about it,’ ” said Witkowski quietly as he read the bright green letters on the screen. “She’s a
Sonnenkind
.”

“What the hell are you talking about, Stanley?”

“I thought the Sonnenkinder theory was discredited,” said Karin softly, nearly inaudible.

“To most people,” replied the colonel, “not to me, never has been. Look what’s happening now.”

“What’s a
Sonnen
—whatever?”

“A concept, Drew. The premise was that before and after the war, the zealots of the Third Reich sent out selected children to chosen ‘parents’ throughout the world, whose mission was to raise the
Kinder
to positions of influence and power so as to pave the way for a Fourth Reich.”

“That’s fantasyland, it couldn’t happen.”

“Maybe it did after all,” said Witkowski. “
Christ
, the world’s gone crazy!” exploded the embassy’s chief of security.

“
Hold
it,” said Joel Greenberg at the computer, over-riding Witkowski’s outburst. “There’s an addendum coming in from Chicago. Catch the movie.” All heads turned to the screen and the bright green letters.

“What do you make of that, Stanley?” asked Drew.

“I’ll tell you what I make of it,” interrupted De Vries. “What better way to support an ultimately horrible agenda than by denying it? You could be right, Colonel. The Sonnenkinder operation may be alive and well.”

“Then tell me, how I can approach the ambassador? What the hell can I say? He’s living with, sleeping with, a daughter of the
Third Reich
?”

“Let me handle this, Stanley,” said Latham. “I’m the coordinator, right?”

“Who are you going to lay it on, youngster?”

“Who else? A man we both appreciate. Wesley Sorenson.”

“May God have mercy on his soul.”

The telephone rang on Rowe’s computer. He picked it up. “S-Two here, what is it?… Yes, sir, right away, sir.” He turned to Witkowski. “You’re to go right up to medical, Colonel. Your ‘prize’ is awake and talking.”

G
erhardt Kroeger, strapped in a straitjacket, was on the narrow bed, crouched against the wall, his body curled up and pressed into the wood. He was alone in a room at the embassy’s infirmary, his wounded legs bandaged underneath his medical pajamas, his eyes wide, glaring, roving everywhere but focused on nothing. “
Mein Vater war ein Verräter
,” he whispered hoarsely. “
Mein Vater war ein Verräter!… Mein Leben ist vorbei, alles vernichtet!
”

Two men watched him through a false mirror in an adjoining office—one, the embassy physician, the other, Colonel Witkowski. “He’s getting real squirrelly,” said the chief of security.

“I don’t understand German. What’s he saying?” asked the doctor.

“Something about his father being filth, a traitor, and that his life is over, everything destroyed.”

“What do you make of it?”

“Only what I hear. He’s a basket case, carrying a ton of guilt that’s driving him up the wall he can’t climb.”

“Then he’s suicidal,” concluded the doctor. “He stays in the jacket.”

“You’re damn right,” agreed the colonel. “But I’m still going in and try to question him.”

“Be careful, his blood pressure’s almost out of sight. Which, I suppose, is natural, considering who he is—or was. When the mighty fall, they crash with a bang.”

“You know who he is—was?”

“Sure. Most anybody who got through medical school would. Especially the head sessions.”

“Enlighten me, Doctor,” said Witkowski, looking at the physician.

“He is, or was, a famous German surgeon—I haven’t heard of him for a few years now—but his specialty was brain disorders. It was said at the time that he cured more mentally dysfunctional patients than anyone else in the field. With a scalpel, not drugs, which are overloaded with side effects.”

“So why was this goddamned genius sent to Paris to kill someone when he couldn’t hit the side of a barn with buckshot?”

“I wouldn’t know, Colonel, and if he said anything about it, I wouldn’t understand.”

“Fair enough, but not good enough, Doctor. Let me go inside, please.”

“Sure, but remember, I’ll be watching. If I see him reaching an apex—the jacket is wired to blood pressure, heart rate, and oxygen—you’re
out
. Understood?”

“I don’t take lightly to orders like that where a killer is concerned—”

“You’ll take them from me, Witkowski,” the doctor interrupted curtly. “My job is to keep him alive, perhaps even for your benefit. Do we understand each other?”

“I don’t have a choice, do I?”

“No, you don’t. I’d advise talking quietly.”

“That advice I don’t need from you.”

The colonel sat in a chair in front of the bed; he remained immobile until the unfocused Kroeger realized he was there. “
Guten Abend, Herr Doktor. Sprechen zie Englisch, mein Herr?
”

“You know perfectly well I do,” said Kroeger, struggling against the constricting jacket. “Why am I in this undignified attire? I am a doctor, a surgeon of repute, so why am I treated like an
animal
?”

“Because the families of two of your victims at the Hotel Inter-Continental no doubt consider you a vicious animal. Should we let you free to face their wrath? I assure you that death at their hands would be far more painful than execution at ours.”

“They were an error, a
mistake
! A tragic event brought about by
your
hiding an enemy of humanity!”

“An enemy of humanity …? That’s a very serious charge. Why is Harry Latham an enemy of humanity?”

“He’s insane, a violent schizophrenic who must be relieved of his tortures, or given medication so he can be institutionalized. Hasn’t Moreau
told
you?”

“Moreau? The Deuxième Bureau?”

“Of course. I explained everything to him! He did not reach you? Of course he’s French, and they keep things to themselves, don’t they?”

“Perhaps I overlooked the communication.”

“You see,” said Kroeger, still struggling, but sitting up straight on the bed, “I treated Harry Latham in Germany—where, it does not matter—I saved his life, but you must bring me to him so I can inject him with the drugs that were in my clothes. It’s the only way he can stay alive and serve your purposes!”

“A tempting scenario,” said Witkowski. “He brought out a list of names, you know, several hundred names—”

“Who knows where he
got
them?” interrupted Gerhardt Kroeger. “He traveled with the drug-infected scum of Germany. Some could be right, many could be wrong. That’s why you must bring me to him in neutral quarters so we can learn the truth.”

“My God, you’re desperate enough to cover all the bases, aren’t you?”

“
Was ist?
”

“You know goddamned well
was ist, Doktor
.… Let’s talk about something else for a minute, okay?”

“
Was?
”

“Your daddy, your
Vater
, do you mind?”

“I never discuss my father, sir,” said Kroeger, his eyes blank, unfocused, staring at nothing on the wall.

“Oh, I think we should,” insisted the colonel. “You see, we ran a check on you, the whole you, and we considered your father a hero, an enlightened hero of Germany.”

“
Nein! Ein Verräter!
”

“We don’t think so. He wanted to save lives, German, English, and American. He finally saw through the hollow
crap of Hitler and his thugs and decided to make a statement at the risk of his life, if not certain death. That’s a real hero, Doctor.”

“
Nein!
He betrayed the Fatherland!” Kroeger writhed in the straitjacket, bouncing back and forth on the bed, a man in agony, as tears fell from his eyes. “Throughout the
Gymnasium
, then through the
Universität
, the schoolboys would come up to me—frequently they beat me. ‘Your father was a traitor, we all know it!’ and ‘Why did the Americans make him the
Bürgermeister
when none of us wanted him?’
Mein Gott
, such tortures!”

“So you decided to make up for what he never completed, is that it, Herr Kroeger?”

“You have no right to interrogate me this way!” screamed the surgeon, sitting up straight, his eyes wet and red. “All men, even enemies, have the privacy of their lives!”

“And I respect that,” said Witkowski, his posture straight in the chair. “But you’re an exception, Doctor, because you’re too intelligent, too educated to buy the bilge you’ve been sold, and are now selling. Tell me, do you respect the sanctity of life outside of the womb?”

“Naturally. Breathing life is life.”

“Including Jews, Gypsies, the disabled and mentally impaired, along with homosexuals of either gender?”

“Those are political decisions, beyond the realm of the medical profession.”

“Doctor, you are one son of a bitch. But I’ll tell you something. I may just bring you to the Latham you’re after, if only to watch him listen to you, then spit in your face.… ‘Political decisions?’ You make me sick.”