Free Spandau Phoenix by Greg Iles Page A

thought-and her hair had that transparent blondness that makes the hands tingle to touch it. But it wasn't all that, he decided.
     
    Ilse Apfel was no film star. He knew a dozen women as striking as she.
     
    It was something other than fine features, deeper than the glow of youth. Not elegance, or earthiness, or even a hint of that intangible scent Grauber called availability.
     
    No, it was, quite simply, grace. Ilse possessed that rare beauty made rarer still by apparent unconsciousness of itself.
     
    When Grauber caught himself admiring her breasts-high and round, more Gallic than Teutonic, he thought-he flushed and looked quickly back at the slip of paper in his hand.
     
    "Well," he coughed. "That's that."
     
    Ilse waited expectantly, too anxious to ask for the verdict.
     
    "Your urine indicates pregnancy," Grauber announced.
     
    "I'd like to draw some blood, of course,'confirm the urine with a beta-subunit test, but I'd say that's just a formality.
     
    Would you like to bring Hans in? I know he'll be excited."
     
    Ilse colored. "Hans didn't come this time."
     
    Grauber raised his eyebrows in surprise. "That's a first.
     
    He's got to be the most concerned husband I've ever met."
     
    The smile faded. "Are you all right, Ilse? You look as though I'd just given you three months to live."
     
    Ilse felt wings beating within her chest. After all her anxiety, she found it hard to accept fulfillment of her deepest hope. "I really didn't expect this," she murmured. "I was afraid to hope for it. My mother died when I was born, you know, and it's ... it's just very important, to me to have a child of my own."
     
    "Well, you've got one started," said Grauber. "Now our job is to see that he-or she-arrives as ordered. I've got a copy of the standard visiting schedule, and there's the matter of . . ."
     
    Ilse heard nothing else. The doctor's news had lifted her spirit to a plane where no mundane detail could intrude.
     
    When the lab technician drew her blood, she felt no needle prick, and on her way out of the office the receptionist had to call her name three times to prevent her leaving without scheduling her next visit.
     
    At the age of twenty-six, her happiness was complete.
     
    11:27 A.M. Pretoria, The Republic of South Africa
    Five thousand miles to the south of Germany, two thousand of those below the equator, an old man sentenced to spend half his waking hours in a wheelchair spoke acidly into the intercom recessed into his oaken office desk.
     
    "This is not the time to bother me with business, Pieter."
     
    The man's name was Alfred Horn, and though it was not his native language, he spoke Afrikaans.
     
    "I'm sorry, sir," the intercom replied, "but I believe you might prefer to take this call. It's from Berlin."
     
    Berlin. Horn reached for the intercom button. "Ah ... I believe you're right, Pieter." The old man let his finger fall from the button, then pressed it again. "Is this call scrambled?"
     
    "Sir, this end as always. I can't say for certain about the other. I doubt it."
     
    "And the room?"
     
    "Swept last night, sir."
     
    "I'm picking up now."
     
    The connection was excellent, almost noiseless. The first voice Horn heard was that of his security chief, Pieter Smuts.
     
    "Are you still on the line, caller?"
     
    "Ja, " hissed a male voice, obviously under stress. "And I haven't much time."
     
    "Are you calling from a secure location?"
     
    "Nein. "
     
    "Can you move to such a location?"
     
    "Nein! Someone may have missed me already!"
     
    "Calm yourself," Smuts ordered. "You will identify yourself again in five seconds. Answer any questions Put to You-"
     
    "You may remain on the line, Guardian," Horn interrupted in perfect German.
     
    "Go ahead, caller," Smuts said.
     
    "This is Berlin-One," said the quavering voice. "There are developments here of which I feel you should be apprised.
     
    Two men were arrested this morning at Spandau Prison.
     
    West Berliners."
     
    "On what