Games of State - Tom Clancy [158]
"Andre? Andre!"
The pilot said, "You told me over the phone that you followed all my moves. But you missed one. The one where I came up to your pilot and hit the poor fellow with twenty-five years of anger."
Richard Hausen turned and regarded Dominique. The Frenchman felt ice shoot down his back.
"I took off to make room for the other craft," Hausen said. "Now you're going back, Gerard. Back twenty-five years, in fact."
For a moment, Dominique considered an appropriate response. But only for a moment. As in Paris those many years ago, the idea of debate was pushed aside by the stench of Hausen's sanctimony. Dominique hated it. Just as he had hated it when Hansen had defended those girls.
Losing control of the delicate balance between danger and need, between reason and desire, Dominique threw himself at Hausen with an inarticulate cry. He grabbed the German's hair from behind and pulled his head back, over the seat.
Hausen screamed as Dominique yanked down hard, trying to break his neck. The German released the control stick and began clawing at the Frenchman's wrist. The chopper nosed down instantly and Dominique fell against the back of the pilot's seat. He released Hausen, who was thrown against the systems display.
Groggy, his forehead bloodied, the German struggled to get his bearings. Pushing off the windshield, he managed to find the control stick.
The chopper came out of its dive. As it did, Dominique slid around the pilot's seat. The headphones had fallen to the floor and he picked them up. With an eye on the control stick, Dominique slipped the cord around Hausen's neck and pulled tightly.
CHAPTER SIXTY-FIVE
Thursday, 5:41 P.M.,
Washington, D.C.
Mike Rodgers was studying a map of Germany on the computer when Darrell McCaskey looked over with a thumbs-up.
"Got him!" said McCaskey. "Hauptmann Rosenlocher's on the line!"
Rodgers picked up his phone. "Hauptmann Rosenlocher," Rodgers said, "do you speak English?"
"Yes. Who is this?"
"General Mike Rodgers in Washington, D.C. Sir, I'm sorry to be calling so late. It's about the attack on the movie set, the kidnapping."
"Ja?" he said impatiently. "We've been following clues all day. I've only just arrived--"
"We have the girl," Rodgers said.
"Was?"
"One of my men found her," Rodgers said. "They're in the woods near Wunstorf."
"There's a rally in those woods," said Rosenlocher. "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.