On arrival, the trailer reversed towards the opened clamshells, at the front of the awaiting Bristol Super Freighter transport aircraft, driving up the loading ramp. Inside the plane, the solitary cargo was? Secured for its four-stop flight to Australia; the launch from Woomera, was planned for late June. Hallet and his team had followed the convoy, so that they could give the rocket a final farewell. They would meet up with it again, out at Woomera.
Hallett sighed, suddenly thinking of the sinister events that had recently occurred. Suddenly, he thought of Kevin Powell, and how he, would have enjoyed this moment. Without warning, as he watched the Super Freighter rise into the clear blue sky, tears welled in his eyes.
Across the Atlantic, Flight Control at The Kennedy Space Centre was a hive of activity, as personnel manned their monitoring consoles and the link-up to both the three astronauts of Apollo 10 and Mission Control at Houston was on a live feed.
With his arms on the desk, newly appointed Flight Supervisor, Jed Gorman, smiled happily. This had been his first launch, and it had so far, gone well. The three astronauts were on their way to carry out the final trial run for the planned Moon landing in July.
Gorman watched the screen, as the flame from the Saturn V disappeared through the clouds, on its way into the upper atmosphere. Another ten minutes, and the first separation sequence would take place.
In the early hours of the next morning, the Mercedes saloon, containing Weitz, Epstein and Swan, moved slowly along the road leading up to Fleischergarten. Behind them, were two marked police cars.
Epstein checked his gun. ‘What gun do you carry, Alex?’
Swan watched the German pull back the breach of his HK-P9 automatic. ‘As a matter of fact, I prefer not to carry one.’
Epstein gave him a blank look. ‘I am shocked, Alex. What with the criminals these days having guns. Do you not feel vulnerable?’
‘On the contrary, not all criminals carry guns, Verdi. Some seem to get on very well without them.’ Swan remembered the sentiments of his friend ‘Staffy’ Lovett of Scotland Yard. ‘Don’t forget, that the train robbers did okay, in not using any firearms, when they robbed the Glasgow to London mail train, seven years ago,’ he quoted.
Epstein said nothing, placed his pistol back into the holster, and looked ahead of him through the windscreen, as the house came into view.
The three cars stopped at the walled main gates of the mansion. Weitz got out of the Mercedes and walked towards them, viewing the house through the iron gates; on either side of them, two stone eagles where poised on square pillars. The uniformed officers, formed a line in front of Swan and the two BND men.
Weitz addressed them. ‘Gentlemen, so far, it seems that no-one is home. Take up your positions, and wait for my signal. Officer, you may now proceed with opening the gate.’
On this command from Weitz, an officer stepped forward with a set of doubled handed bolt cutters, and after ensuring that the heavy chain securing the gates was in the jaws, he brought the two handles together. With a chink, it snapped free of the gates and fell to the floor.
Weitz pushed them open and walked with Swan and Epstein into the grounds. Behind them, the policemen filed through, dispersing themselves to their pre-designated positions, around the grounds.
The three men stepped up to the door. Weitz checked it carefully, confirming it was locked. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small black case. Inside the case, were various-sized lock picks. Checking the lock, he selected a suitable one, and inserted it into the hole. In less than twenty seconds, there was a click, then the door opened. Weitz then found the light switch. In the vast hallway, some women’s shoes were scattered on the floor; a wooden handled hairbrush lay beside them. Swan also noticed a coat hanging over a door, leading to a room.
Weitz carefully opened the door that led into a vast reception room. He cast his eyes around it, taking in the two symmetrical crystal droplet chandeliers, hanging from the ceiling, and the paintings of birds of prey around the walls. He then looked straight ahead. Beyond the polished oak table, he spied the lonely hook on the wall; wondering why no painting had been attached. He turned to the others. ‘Well gentleman, it looks like they have left in quite a hurry.’
Swan walked over and pushed opened another door, leading off the reception room. The West German agents followed. They were now in a drawing room with rows of bookshelves, lining three of the walls.
Swan studied the bookcase in front of him. ‘Seems that our man enjoys his reading,’ he commented.
The others agreed. Epstein walked over to a dresser, situated beside a sofa and picked up a picture frame. Next to it was an undisturbed line of dust. The photograph showed a tall thin man in a wooded setting, a pair of binoculars around his neck, and a younger looking woman at his shoulder height. She had short blonde hair, set in a bobbed style. He called over to the other men. ‘I think, this could be Fleischer.’
Swan walked over to him and stared at the photograph. ‘Yes, indeed it must be, and this must be his mysterious lady friend, Katrina Holz.’
He looked at the vacant space next to where Epstein had picked up the picture, the early morning sunlight poking its way into the room had revealed a row of disturbed dust. Swan ran his finger over it. ‘Looks like another picture was here next to it, until recently.’
Epstein agreed, wondering what was in the picture, and more importantly, why it had been removed.
Weitz opened the drawers of a cabinet against a wall, but after finding nothing of interest, closed them again. ‘I’m going to take a look at the other rooms,’ he informed and left.
Swan checked the books on the shelves, noticing that they were mostly nature books, and some translated classic novels from writers, such as Alexander Dumas’s The Count of Monte Christo, and The Three Musketeers and a few works of Charles Dickens, Victor Hugo and Jules Verne among others. Looking at the copy of Verne’s Master of the World, Swan realised how Fleischer must have seen himself, as an adventurer or leader.
His ideas about his adversary were confirmed, when having moved further along the shelves, he spotted books on the Roman Emperor Constantine, Alexander the Great, Napoleon and wedged in at the end of the row, a battered hardback copy of Hitler’s, Mein Kampf. There were also several books from modern German writers such as: Bluher, Kastner, Benn and Lachmann, as well as volumes from older writers, with Swan recognising the works of Hoffman, Kleist and Von Schiller, among others.
His attention was then drawn to a bookcase at the back of the room, situated directly opposite the door. Swan studied the porcelain figurines of birds of prey, by Karl Ens, which sat on the top shelves: identifying an eagle, falcon and a Tawny owl. Around the room, other birds from the German sculptor’s collection, sat on sideboards.
Swan then studied the nature and birdwatching books on the shelves, realising how serious this mysterious German businessman, took his pastime. Then, as he looked down to the bookcase’s skirting, something caught his eye.
Crouching down, he noticed some scuff marks and checking the other end of the bookcase, confirmed that they were only evident on one side. He had discovered a seam between the two pieces of polished mahogany, and a quarter of the way up, saw something solid inside the gap.
Weitz had returned, and now stood beside him. Having searched other rooms of the great house, he had found nothing of interest, moving to the drawing room to focus on a locked bureau.