Swan studied the picture intensely. Gable looked over at him, and their eyes met. Gable saw that Swan looked worried; He had become fidgety in his chair and detecting the anxiety, Janet Ross, clutched hold of his hand.
A few minutes later, the studio commentary suddenly ceased talking about the alarm, to allow for a live radio broadcast. First was the voice of Mission Control, ‘60 seconds’.
Then Aldrin, ‘Contact light’ Armstrong then cut in, ‘Down two and a half — forward — forward — picking up some dust- drifting to the right a little, — full forward — come back right’
Houston then took over. ‘30 seconds’.
‘Engines stopped,’ said Aldrin
Transfixed on the television screen, Swan started to feel a lump in his throat. His heart started to pump faster, his palms beginning to sweat.
Further technical information followed from Armstrong, then it was the turn of Mission Control, to speak again. ‘We copy you down, Eagle’ replied the Flight Controller.
There was a short pause, then Armstrong spoke again. ‘Houston… Er… Tranquillity Base, here… The Eagle has landed.’
Swan closed his eyes in sheer relief and turning to Ross, gave her a kiss.
They both got up from their chairs to meet an advancing Arthur Gable, and his wife. Swan shook the hand of his colleague.
‘Fantastic stuff,’ said an elated Gable.
Swan leant over and kissed Anne Gable on the cheek. ‘They’re not the only ones who were turning blue.’ Swan commented, referring to the reply from Mission Control following the landing. Suddenly, he thought of the report he had received from Stratton, regarding the vial that had been discovered on the unfortunate Lars Brauer, the engineer that he had met at the space centre, who had been tragically killed by an alligator. The vial’s contents had been revealed to be a deadly toxin, administered to both the innocent Data Analyst and Peter Weisemann, the Onyx Cross saboteur, concluding that Brauer had turned out to be the elusive, Cormorant.
Back on the television, Swan noticed an elated Walter Cronkite beaming a smile at the camera, and instantly he recalled those sombre thoughts he had had of this man, just a few days ago.
Arthur Gable rubbed his hands together. ‘I know it may be a bit early, but I think we could have a small celebration drink, don’t you all agree?’
Swan smiled, rubbing his forehead with a handkerchief. ‘Yes, Arthur, that would definitely be a very good idea right now.’
Too excited to sleep, six hours later, they all sat and watched attentively, as Neil Armstrong slowly descended the ladder of the lunar module, placing one foot onto the surface of the Moon. Swan then discussed Eagle’s earlier alarms. ‘You don’t suppose they were anything to do with…’
Gable cut in. ‘Whatever they were, Alex, Armstrong and Aldrin, managed to overcome any problems, the Onyx Cross could possibly have caused. Cheers!’
A few hours later, Klaus Kemmler pulled out a brown manila file from his safe, placed it down on the desktop next to a two-day old newspaper and opened it. Staring up at him, was an early photo of Gunther Fleischer in SS uniform. He turned the page to several loose documents, one of which, was titled Operation Sternstruppe. His eyes were then drawn to another photograph, fastened with a paperclip. It was that of a young Aryan looking man in a white work coat, the black Reich Adler emblem on the breast pocket. Kemmler picked it up and stared at it for a few moments, then looked over at the headline, about the NASA engineer who had been tragically killed by the alligator. Placing the photo back under the paperclip, he placed the page titled Kormoron, back into the file, closed it, and along with the newspaper, carried it out of the room.
Outside, he walked over to a small bricked hearth used for outdoor cooking, placed the file onto a metal grill, then drew a lighter from his pocket. Allowing the small flame to touch the corner, he watched, as it ate its way across it, until the remaining pieces of burnt cinders, blew away in the breeze, with some to Kemmler’s annoyance, falling into his pool.
Katrina Holz lazed on the sun bed, and stared out at the cluster of orange slated rooves of other houses beyond the perimeter wall. Startled by the sudden appearance of the charred flakes of paper hitting the glistening blue water, she sat up and glanced over to her uncle, as he walked towards her. Noticing the curious look on her face, he smiled at her. ‘Please excuse me, my dear Katrina. I was just taking care of some old papers.’ Holz gestured to one of the adjacent houses. ‘That house there, uncle, the one with the green shutters, and the beautiful plants on the balcony. I was wondering who lives there?’
Kemmler looked up at the house, Holz had referred to. ‘It belongs to a shipping magnate, who operates a few cargo ships out of La Paloma. The balcony, is for his ageing mother who practically lives in the room. Those shutters are hardly ever open. I expect the old bird, enjoys her sleep, but I agree, she does keep some wonderful flowers.’ They both looked up at the balcony again to mutually admire them.
Behind the green shutters, Yosef Shanin suddenly took his eye away from the Israeli Defence Force issue military spotter scope. Had the targets just seen him? There was only two days to go, before the planned snatch. For Mossad, it would the biggest prize, since the apprehension of Adolf Eichmann, and would be a true milestone in the secret Israeli agency’s quest to track down known Nazi war criminals, who had thought escaping to the comfortable surroundings of Latin America, would be a sanctuary from their notorious past. This latest snatch would indeed be a grand triumph, and he stared through the lens at the girl, laying by the pool, taking in her blonde hair and her voluptuous body through the red swimsuit.
On her arrival, the Secret Service agent, had been informed by another member of his team, that a young female agent, named Nava, had recorded the movements of this sudden unknown visitor. He wondered who she could be and where she had come from. Yosef had tried to find out her name via his usual local contacts, but she appeared to be a mystery, even to this normally reliable source. He thought about the upcoming operation and decided to brief his team, with added instructions that, unless this woman proved to be a dangerous threat, she was to be dealt with using the most minimum of force. Of course, she would be able to continue to live this life of luxury in the house, at least for a time, until the coverage of the public trial was beamed around the world. The embarrassed Uruguayan authorities, would then descend upon the house, seizing the assets, searching it for clues from the man’s Nazi past. A past that also carried knowledge which could propel science and engineering technology to greater heights. Kemmler was supposed to be dead, but here he was, oblivious to foreign eyes, observing him across the perimeter wall. Yosef hoped, on the initial raid by his team, they would perhaps find something of extreme interest, like locations of this man’s friends, who also had chosen to seek refuge in South America. Friends as infamous as the man with the Panama hat in the house below. Even if, like this man, they had managed to change their original identity.
The Mossad agent smiled to himself, as his target, known locally as a Senior Giulio Bresaola, but on Mossad files as the infamous ‘Technician’, retreated inside the house.