He heard something crash into the side of the plane, heard Billie scream.
Attitude. He had to concentrate. That's what Jenny had said. Hold your attitude otherwise you'll flip her onto her back. He eased the yolk forward and held it as the Skyhawk climbed out over the trees, over the blue concrete wall that the Russians had built and now surrounded the Heidi.
He looked for the altimeter.
Five hundred feet. Then a thousand. He was over the city now, over the houses and squat buildings of Dresden. The engine was starting to scream. He sensed there was too much throttle and he eased it back until it sounded right. Then he found the compass. He was heading south.
He started a gentle turn, remembering what she had taught him, remembering to watch the horizon and hold his attitude to it.
The small Skyhawk settled into its level cruise. The compass told him they were heading north.
Billie said nothing. She left him alone to concentrate on his flight. She searched the cabin compartments until she found a map. She opened it, saw it was a topographic map showing the roads and rivers and towns as you would see them from the air. She found Dresden, flattened the map on her knees and tried to identify the countryside below them.
Berlin lay to the north and she knew there was more to come. She felt a pride in him. He'd said to trust him.
She heard him laugh.
'What's so funny?' she asked.
'I once told someone that if I had a wife, I'd get her to travel in planes with two children.'
'What?'
As he concentrated on his task, he told her of the young mother who'd flown with him on the jumbo from London to San Diego, to the place where he'd first met Billie.
'Sounds good.' she smiled when he'd finished. 'Get this thing down in one piece and we'll make it come true.' She suddenly hoped he wouldn't be disappointed if they found she was too old to have children.
'We'll make it,' he said. 'Piece of cake, this flying.'
Well done, tough guy. You done well. If only Peter could see her now. If only…? She sighed. Nothing mattered any more.
All that was an eternity ago.
BOOK FIVE
Ch. 73
The DDI leant against the fender of the black Chevrolet Impala and watched Hilsman and Gerbhart walk towards him. Behind them was the curved Soviet War Memorial, still guarded by Russian soldiers, on the Strasse des 17 Juni. The Western Allies had allowed the Soviet Union to build it in what was West Berlin, near the Brandenburg Gate, in 1946. Constructed of marble taken from Hitler's headquarters, the Reichskanzlei, it is flanked by two World War 2 Russian tanks.
'Did you know those two tanks were the first to enter Berlin during the War?' shouted the ruddy faced Hilsman. 'Some history, huh? If they'd been ours, theyd've been in Disneyworld by now.'
The DDI nodded. He didn't like Hilsman. He would have prefered to have had his own Berlin Station Chief along. It was easier to trust your own. But then he didn't like anyone in the Secret Service. Their sole responsibility was protecting the President. And they always acted as if that responsibility gave them rights over every other service. The Secret Service had earned that duty in 1894 when they detected a conspiracy to assassinate President Grover Cleveland.
Gerbhart, the Berlin police inspector following Hilsman, ignored the comment. He hated these bastards coming over here and rubbing their noses in it. The war was long over and Hitler was just a bad memory. If he had his way, he'd tear down all these fucking monuments in his city.
'They stop here for fifteen minutes,' Hilsman went on. 'It's a private ceremony. No public, just the press.' He turned to Gerbhart and pointed to a small group of trees on the opposite side of the road. 'You need extra cover there. It's the sort a place a sniper could take cover. You got that?'
The policeman nodded and wrote in his notebook. He'd make sure nobody'd move here when the two most powerful men in the world came to visit the memorial. Gerbhart had other problems. His intelligence people had already told him there were going to be riots. Not here, but where they could get the most publicity. That's where the danger lay. Until then he'd just nod, take notes and make sure he covered his back. Just in case.
'Okay' said the DDI, opening the car door and getting in. 'Next stop for the grand finale.'
Hilsman followed him in as Gerbhart climbed into the front seat and signalled the police driver to take them to the next location.
'Any more angles on your two fugitives?' asked Hilsman.
'No.' The DDI didn't want to discuss the matter further.
'Wouldn't have happened in our set up. Shit, they could be up to anything. Even coming here.'
'There's no link between them and the President's visit.'
'Not a chance we can take.'
'Meaning?'
'Shoot to kill.'
'No way.'
'The only way. If they turn up here.' Hilsman leant forward and spoke to Gerbhart. 'Those pictures in the paper. We need copies circulated to all your men. Identify and arrest. If they resist, don't take any chances.'
The DDI shook his head and looked out of the window. He saw the Brandenburg Gate in the distance. He remembered when the Wall had cut across it, remembered the now defunct Checkpoint Charlie where he had personally supervised the exchange of agents between the Agency and the Russians. For all their horrors, they had been good days. Days of purpose. A good day's work done.
The Mercedes turned the corner and crossed the Square of the Republic.
At the end of it stood their destination.
The vast grey building that was the Reichstag came into view.
Ch. 74
The Lycoming engine's one hundred and sixty horses spluttered, coughed and died at three thousand feet.
'Damn!' muttered Adam under his breath as he tried to control the small Cessna as it wallowed in the sky, its airspeed bleeding off, its propeller suddenly still and useless and standing to attention. He pushed the yoke forward, forced the nose down and the little plane picked up speed again as it started its earthbound glide. 'See anywhere we can land?' he shouted.
'There's a freeway over there.' Billie pointed to her right and Adam saw the thin ribbon of tarmac that ran through the forest.
He swung the plane to the right and aimed the nose towards the autobahn. They descended towards the treetops, the roar of the engine now replaced by the hiss of the wind as they cut through the air.
'Brace yourself,' he said. 'It's tight.'
'You'll do it, tough guy.'
He wished he had the faith in himself that she had. He kept the nose down, lowered sufficiently to give them enough speed so that their descent wouldn't be too sharp. They seemed to hang forever, suspended in the stillness of the rushing air, floating forever until everything blurred into a final rush as the snow-pointed tops of the trees crashed into the fuselage and wheels under them, tearing at them, trying to pull them into the forest.
But the small Cessna broke the clawing hold and it slithered downward through the trees, its weight and momentum smashing through the branches as it fell through the tree line and towards the autobahn below.
It hit the ground so hard that it felt as if the undercarriage would smash through the bottom of the fuselage and kill them.
But she held. Just settled into silence as a few branches and the falling snow enveloped them.