"What happened?" Ramirez asked. Helling had alerted him by walkie-
talkie and summoned him to the lobby. There the Germans were returning,
Henes Sommer covered with blood and being carried by Rudolph Schindler
and Peter Maier.
"Henes got caught in a firefight. Then he tried to take the chopper . .
. and fell." Schindler was struggling to find the words, thinking that
he would have to be the one to tell Henes' wife, in what used to be
East Berlin. Henes Sommer, forty-five, had joined Ramirez's operation
out of idealism, as a step toward driving the Zionist scourge from
Europe. Ramirez had made the operation sound so easy.
"It's even worse," Helling said slowly, addressing his words to
Ramirez. "He must have been a guard who escaped our notice, but he
managed to start the Hind. Then he crashed it against the hillside."
"Why didn't you go after him and kill him?" Ramirez asked quietly, his
anger smoldering.
"There was no need. He's trapped up there. For now he can rot." An
uncomfortable pause ensued before he continued. "Besides, he's armed.
We probably should wait till nightfall. What can he do?"
He can do a lot, Ramirez was thinking. This could be trouble.
The three Germans had been brought along as a favor to Wolf Helling,
and now they had demonstrated just how worthless they actually were.
Under ordinary circumstances, he would have shot them all on the spot,
as an example to the rest of the team.
"You say the Hind has been crashed?" he went on, his eyes hidden behind
his shades.
"We don't need it any more. What does that matter?" Helling shrugged,
not sure he believed his own words. "In any case, this is what comes of
having amateurs involved."
Schindler's eyes darkened in resentment. It had never really occurred
to him until this moment that his and his friends' lives were at risk.
Ramirez was trying hard to mask his own chagrin, telling himself he
should never have sent these untried goons out to do a man's work. A
good attorney never asked a question in court that he didn't already
know the answer to; and you never turned your back on an operation if
you weren't already fully certain how it would turn out. That was one
mistake he didn't plan to make again.
"Life is never simple," he said, turning back to the German threesome.
The wounded man was wheezing from a hole in his chest. "There's only
one thing to do with him."
He withdrew a Walther from inside his coat and, with great precision,
shot Henes Sommer directly between the eyes, as calmly as though
dispatching a racehorse with a broken leg. The body slumped into the
arms of Rudolph Schindler, who looked on in horror.
"It was merely a minor miscalculation, but now it's been handled." He
turned to Helling. "Now go back and watch the hill. And try to act like
a professional."
The German nodded. He dared not tell Ramirez the true extent of their
trouble. Not only had the mysterious stranger escaped with Henes' Uzi,
he also still might have a radio, if the Hind had not been totally
wrecked. Helling, their boss, didn't seem yet aware of this problem. If
it was still working, what would he do?
"Now," Ramirez continued, "rather than waste our time on fruitless
recriminations, we must proceed."
He turned and walked back through the doors leading into Command.
Across the room, past the rows of computer
terminals, Bates sat at the Main Command desk, talking to Dr. Andros.
"Problem?" Bates asked, looking up. Although he had not slept all
night, his blue blazer remained immaculate. "Having some trouble, you
son of a bitch?"
"You will be relieved to know nothing is amiss," Ramirez replied as
smoothly as he could manage. "One of your guards, it would seem,
decided to make a nuisance of himself. But he has been neutralized."
Bates did not believe it. He had overheard the broadcast on the BBC,
and now he was starting to put it all together. These thugs had come in
by chopper, after attacking a U.S. ship. They must have left the attack
helicopter out on the pad. But somebody got to it . . .
"Now, Miss Andros . . ." Ramirez lifted a clipboard from her desk and
examined it. "My, my, today we all have a busy schedule. Review the
test data from the power-up, final calibrations of the Cyclops, flight
prep of the vehicle. . . ." He put it down. "Yes, it does look like a
busy day. For us all. All you have to do is cooperate, and no one here
will be harmed."
The second chopper is on its way now, he was thinking, if everything
was on schedule. The next item was the launch vehicle.
He estimated they would need a day and a half to make the retrofit. The
scheduled first test launch had been programmed for three days away--now
it was two--so there was ample time . . . exactly as he had planned.