Frick nodded. It should have all been ready for him.
'The white line…' said the second officer, '…is drawn across to protect you. If you cross it, then you will come into the line of…'
The look of contempt on Frick's face stopped him. 'I know what it's for,' stated Frick coldly.
'Of course, sir.'
Kragan waved the officer to step back, then moved closer to Frick. 'We've had calls from Council members about the Charlottenburg riots.'
'What did they say?' asked Frick, now partly deflected from the irritation he felt.
'That the reports on television and in the papers support your view. The public is becoming sickened by these pictures of violence and death. It seems you are right — it may well be time for the Party to come out into the open.'
Frick smiled. 'They said that?'
'That was the gist of it.' He didn't add that he had argued Frick's case vigorously, had hammered the points home until they could do little but agree with him.
'And Albert Goodenache?'
'Nothing yet. We know he flew to Frankfurt from New York. He's somewhere in Germany.'
'Find him. He's dangerous, with all that knowledge. Trimmler's death will have terrified him.'
'He could be coming here.'
'Let's hope so.'
The door opened behind them and a junior officer came in. He nodded to Kragan, who turned to Frick. 'We're ready now. If you would put on your sound protector.'
Frick and the others slipped the protectors over their heads and turned towards the table. The single light dimmed to half strength.
They waited for nearly a minute for something to happen.
Frick was getting restless once again when the place simply exploded into action. A stun grenade was hurled through the window on the left and landed in the middle of the room. It exploded, sound and brilliant light smashing through the room and dulling the senses, smoke gushing out and fogging the scene. The door on the left was blown off its hinges by strategically placed charges that slammed flat onto the floor.
At the same time a balaclava masked soldier rolled in through the window where the stun grenade had come from, his Kalishnikov automatic aimed at the dummy that stood by the opposite window. The bullets sliced the dummy in half. A second soldier burst through the door which had been blown open and fired his automatic rifle at the kitchen table, its powerful round of bullets knocking the head off the dummy planted in the chair.
Another stun grenade was thrown in and a third soldier hurled himself through the window after it, before it had exploded. As the grenade went off, he opened fire with his semi automatic hand-gun and shot the dummy in the chair away from the table.
The first two soldiers had now crossed the room and dragged off the men who were tied up to the floor. They cut their bonds. The third soldier covered them, his weapon at the ready for any surprise intruders.
Then the floodlights that were hidden in the roof came on. The soldiers relaxed, laughing, whilst the hostages stood up and joined in the celebrations. The whole thing had taken no more than five seconds.
Frick took off his sound protectors and walked across to the young man he knew to be the leader. 'Well done,' he congratulated Kaas. 'You have trained your men well.'
Kaas snapped to attention and gave the salute, and the others all followed his example.
'Using your men as hostages,' questioned Frick, 'is that a good thing? You might lose one. We need all our young men, you know.'
'It's the only way…to understand the reality of death,' replied Kaas. 'They've got to face it if they're to inflict it'.
'And you move the positions of the dummies and hostages every time?'
'Yes, mein Fuhrer. The whole action must take no more than five seconds. My people have to identify the enemy and act instantly.'
'Good. Excellent. Is this the full complement of men you'll need for our next operation?'
'Yes. Plus Krische, the officer who came in to tell you we were ready.'
Frick turned to Kragan. 'When will this room be ready to represent our next objective.'
'This afternoon,' answered Kragan.
'The most important mission of all,' Frick said to Kaas. 'Your men will not be told the location until they arrive there. This time, security must be absolute. We cannot afford failure. Now, let me meet your men.'
As Kaas introduced his leader to his band of warriors, Kragan finally relaxed. Things had gone well. Charlottenburg had been a glorious success. But it was only a springboard for what was to come. If the public had been sickened by the carnage at the Olympiastdion, the next spectacle to fill their television screens would be in such spectacular technicolor and DestructaVision that it would make Rambo look like a Disney movie.
Normally a cautious man, Kragan felt the glimmer of satisfaction spread within him. He sensed success.
Nothing could stop them now.
Ch. 62
Adam chuckled to himself as the small Piper Arrow flew at two thousand feet across German airspace.
'What's so funny?' asked Jenny Dale, sitting to his left and piloting the single-engined, low-winged plane in her usual deft manner across the turbulent, cumulus covered sky.
'Nothing. Just something I was thinking about,' he replied.
'How long?' shouted Billy from the rear, loud enough to be heard over the roar of the two hundred horsepower engine.
'Twenty minutes,' answered Jenny. 'We're nearly there.'
Adam went back to his private world as the plane bucked across the sky, the unseen hands of the veering winds twisting and turning it as it flew on towards Hannover.
That morning he had watched the surveillance team from the living-room window. They were parked across the road, outside the chemists, with a layer of frost covering their Rover Sterling. The team inside the car, three of them, would occasionally turn on the engine and try to warm themselves, but he knew they'd feel the cold after such a freezing night.
'I'm ready,' Billie said as she came out of the bathroom.
'Let's go,' he replied. He didn't feel like saying much, the blackness had been within him when he woke up. The lonely pain had tightened across his chest, reminding him of the danger he was about to enter, of his depression at the futility of it all. Then Billie had moved against him, still in her sleep, and he relaxed momentarily. Somehow it eased the pain, knowing that she was ready to depend on him. He had woken her ten minutes later.
He drew the curtain shut. Then he opened the front door, so that they could see where they were going, and flicked the bathroom light off. He picked up his brown holdall. Apart from the weapons, he had packed two sweat shirts, thermal underwear and socks and his toiletries. This time he really was travelling light.
She followed him out into the hallway, toting her small suitcase.
The red F40 was parked and ready in the underground car park.
'Wow!' he heard Billie exclaim. 'They yours?'
He nodded. Emma and Steed, side by side. He'd be glad when this was over and he could settle down to enjoy himself again. He knew his service days were finished. After the New Orleans episode and this latest scrape he was about to embark on, Coy and his sort would never have him back.
He stroked the Gullwing as he passed it and then unlocked the Ferrari's passenger door to let Billie in. He slid the holdall between her legs, on the floor pan, then walked round and climbed in the driver's side.
He started the engine as gently and quietly as possible. It was till as loudas an old World War II tank in the confines of the small garage.