The driver of the passing Greyhound bus, travelling at thirty miles an hour, bringing in spectators for the launch, gasped, as a body hit his windscreen and was catapulted a few yards ahead of him, hitting the tarmac. He slammed on his brakes, causing the back end of the single decker bus to swerve out, but the left front wheel could not avoid hitting the body, as it bounced over it, before the vehicle had ceased moving.
On top of the delivery truck, Swan, now with regained breath, peered over the side and looked down at the motionless figure, half hidden by the bus, blood seeping from beneath it. He got up and walked along the roof of the truck, dropping himself down feet- first, at the back.
Martello was waiting for him. ‘What the hell’s going on, Mister?’
Swan took more deep breaths, as he nursed his neck with his hand. He looked at Martello, who saw the embedded purple finger marks. Swan staggered, feeling for the back of the truck, slumping back onto it, totally exhausted. After recovering himself, he walked over to the still body of Gunther Fleischer. A woman was standing next to him, having laid her jacket over what was not covered by the bus. She looked at Swan dejectedly. ‘There’s nothing you can do, he’s dead. I’m a nurse, and I just checked his pulse. There’s nothing. Looks as though the impact from the bus, broke his neck.’ Swan crouched, pulling back the jacket. He needed to be sure. He gazed at the German’s lifeless eyes, then replaced the jacket. Suddenly, there was the sound of approaching police cars.
He stood back up, and leaning on the bus, reached into his inside jacket pocket to pull out a crumpled packet of cigarettes. After lighting one, he walked back over to Martello, and the driver handed him the gun. ‘Sorry about your vehicle,’ said Swan, putting the pistol back into his holster. ‘If there’s any damage, please send the bill, to a Mr Werner von Braun, at NASA.’
Swan then caught the large sight of Derby and one of his deputies, walking towards him. ‘Now, if you don’t mind, I think I better have a talk with these chaps.’
A speechless and parched Martello, followed the Englishman with his gaze, then opening the door of his cab, reached across to his hanging jacket for his cigarettes. Also, looking over the driver’s seat, he reached into a crate and plucked out a bottle of Coca Cola. He slammed the top against the wheel arch metal plate, flipped off the now buckled cap, and drank down the popular fizzy brown liquid.
After emptying it, he held the clear bottle up to his face, smiling in surprise, at what he just did.
Two hours later, Katrina Holz walked along the street, carrying two paper carrier bags from her shopping trip. In one bag was a dress that she had seen in a boutique, and after trying it on in the shop, had decided that Fleischer would approve. In the other bag, were some groceries, which had been bought in a general store. She looked forward to going back to Weisemann’s bungalow, to cook a special dinner, as they watched the television broadcast of the Apollo 11 launch. She stopped, thinking to herself. Now, which street was the Weisemann’s bungalow on? Then recognising the café on the corner of the junction, realised she had to cross the road, and walk down beside it.
Outside the bungalow, Swan stood talking with Sheriff Derby, next to a blue and white police car. In his hands, he held the manual to the Lunar Lander. Derby spat out the remains of his cigar. ‘You better be getting that back to the Cape. I’ll get Will to drive you.’ Derby’s other deputy, Bob Anderson, then stepped forward. ‘I got it, Sheriff. I’ll take Mr Swan. I got the rest of the day off to go and see my folks at Daytona.’
Swan smiled at the officer’s kind offer. ‘Very kind of you, Sergeant. Thanks very much.’ He was just about to climb into the car, when his gaze fell on a woman, a short distance away, walking towards them.
Katrina Holz raised her blonde head, and then stopped herself on the spot. Ahead of her, she saw the sea of police cars and officers, then she saw the man in the dark trousers and a chequered sports jacket, who was talking with them. She was afraid, but decided to walk on, only to see a young uniformed officer step out in front of her; a temporary barrier had been set up to stop the public from coming any nearer to the scene. The officer raised his hand. ‘Excuse me, ma’am, I’m afraid that this area is now restricted.’
Holz looked at the bungalow, then turned her gaze back to the officer. She tried out her rehearsed, false-American accent. ‘That’s okay. I live further down the street, so I’ll just go around. Thank you.’
The officer looked at her bags, and seeing she would have quite a diversion, decided to let her through. ‘Don’t worry, ma’am. Just come through, but stay on the other side of the street, okay?’
Holz gave the young officer a friendly smile. ‘Gee, thanks,’ she acted, walking around the yellow and black chevron barrier. The officer called out to a colleague. ‘It’s okay, Joe. Let the lady through. She only lives a few blocks down the street.’
She crossed the road, and passing the bungalow, turned her head to look at the scene. As she strode by, Derby was just getting into the car. He touched his cap and smiled. ‘Afternoon ma’am,’ he shouted across to her.
While Swan sat in the back of the car, waiting for his driver, he caught a glimpse of the girl with the bags. Then, did a double take, as she momentarily caught his gaze. She gave him a shy smile, then walked on, slowly quickening her pace. As the car drove away from the bungalow, heading in the other direction, he glanced behind him, wondering, as she continued walking further down the street. He waited for her to look back, if she did, then he would have no doubt that this girl was the mysterious Katrina Holz, but she just carried on walking, holding her heavy bags.
At the end of the street, Holz turned and disappeared down another street. Now out of view, she stopped. Her mind racing with three burning questions. What had happened? Where was Gunther? And who was that man, who had stared at her from inside the police car? She stood for a couple of minutes, pondering on what to do, and realising she had enough money on her, decided to book into a hotel. This would at least give her some time to think about her sudden dilemma. One thing she did know, if Fleischer had been apprehended, then it was time to make that telephone call.
Chapter 48
At the Baikonur Cosmodrome, Dieter Muller boarded his bus to transport him back to Leninsk. As he sat half-listening to the whining of the old vehicle’s engine, he was still puzzled, as to why he had not been able to contact his leader. A series of scenarios had suddenly entered his mind. Had Fleischer been arrested? And if so, what would now happen with the missions of the Onyx Cross? Or could he just be having a holiday? He soon ruled this out, as on the last contact, his leader had instructed him, when he should next contact him, and there was never a time when he had not been able to do this. Something was wrong.
The bus arrived. Muller alighted and walked towards the bakery shop. Igor was behind the counter, loading bread onto the shelves. He looked up at the German. ‘Dieter, you look like you are in need of a strong coffee, my friend.’
Muller nodded appreciatively. ‘Yes please, Igor. It has been an extremely long period at the base. A coffee would be most welcome, my friend. And if your offer of something strong in it, still stands, I would very much enjoy that as well.’
Igor laughed. ‘Of course, my friend. I will just go and fetch some, while you use the telephone.’
Muller smiled in admiration to the anticipated comment. ‘I seem to be a creature of habit, do I not, Igor?’
The baker smiled back and then disappeared through the door, as Muller went over to the phone booth to dial the memorized number.