Chapter Five.

Stacey brought the L-100 Freighter into Austrian airspace at twenty-two thousand feet a little to the east of the Salzburg regional border and fed in a gentle course change to track across the Steiermark region towards Weiselburg. Rani estimated that they were about seventy-five kilometres out… a little less than ten minutes. Time to ease off a little and lose altitude. She keyed her mike and called up Chana and Yarin back on the cargo deck. She told them that she was going to execute an assault approach and that they should make sure everything was well-tied down and secure. They should then make sure that they were well-strapped into the jump seats. Out on her port quarter, Stacey saw the Danube River. Time to start the descent.

Pushing the autopilot release button on the inner face of the left-hand horn of her yoke; she took full control of the airplane again, and gently eased the yoke forward whilst easing back on the throttles as she brought the L-100 Freighter down to ten thousand feet. From this altitude the countryside looked very rural; just a few small villages and hamlets. Up on the curve of the river she identified what looked to be a small town. That must be Spitz. Rani called out her final turning point. Easing the yoke over, she watched the heading indicator settle on heading one-forty-nine, point three-three degrees. Rani called again…

'Four minutes!'

She put out twenty-five-percent flap and Alex deployed the landing gear. The three lamps glowed green denoting that the gear was down and locked. The airspeed indicator began to unwind; as did the radio altimeter. She glanced at Alex.

'OK. Alex I want full throttle reverse at four feet, AGL.'

He nodded. That meant that she wanted him to deploy full reverse thrust when they were still four feet off the ground. Ahead, she saw the remains of the old Luftwaffe airbase. The concrete ribbon looked too damn narrow; but off to the side was a much wider, longer strip. It was obviously the old grass runway. The first half of its length was wooded, but, although the far end was flanked by trees, it looked wide enough for the L-100 Freighter's wingspan. Decision Time! The altitude was one hundred and ten feet, and the airspeed was dropping down to one hundred and twenty knots… the damned stall warning horn would go off any time soon. She decided to commit right now. One last call…

'OK, boys; hang on to the family jewels! Here we go!'

She shoved the yoke forward and the nose of the airplane dropped into a forty-five degree dive. As the rough, blurry strip of grass grew ever larger she yelled to Alex…

'Full flap!'

And felt the Hercules jolt as though it had just run up against a roadside kerb. The altimeter was winding down off the scale… the Goddamned stall warning horn was chirruping… bweep-bweep… bweep-bweep!... then, Alex yanked the throttle levers right back to full reverse thrust and the big airplane seemed to almost stop in mid-air before the thump of her wheels met the ground. He grabbed the copilot's yoke and helped Stacey hold her straight as the reverse prop wash from the howling engines stripped great gobbets of scrubby grass away and hurled them ahead of the rapidly slowing airplane. The airspeed indicator needle was bumping on the bottom stop… not reading anything at all, and the L-100 Freighter shuddered to a halt. Stacey pushed the throttle levers into the detent at the ground idle position, and glanced at Alex. He breathed out volubly.

'Jeez! That was one helluva landing, Baby-Girl. I knew you were good; but that notion wasn't even in the same ballpark!'

She smiled; a cool, unruffled smile.

'Why, thank you kind sir…'

She was interrupted by the appearance of a dark blue station wagon at the far end of the strip. She didn't recognise the make. Rani grinned.

'It's all right; they're our guys coming to pick us up.'

She nodded.

'OK. I'll just go through the check-list and shut this fat bird down.'

He shook his head.

'No need for that. There will be someone in the Land Cruiser to fly her out again.'

Stacey stared at him.

'Well, he'll need to be damned good. Even empty, she'll need at least a thousand feet to lift off… and that means taking her down to the far end of the strip, turning her; and accelerating back between those lines of trees down there.'

Rani grinned.

'That's his problem, not ours. Let's go get the cargo out.'

She nodded; set the brakes, and checked that the throttles were securely in the ground idle detent; then unbuckled her harness and left her seat. With Alex following; she came down the flight deck ladder and entered the cargo deck. Rani and Benny followed. They would all deplane off the cargo ramp because the props were still rotating. Chana and Yarin had already released the cargo tiedowns and were loading three wooden cases into the trunk of the Opel Kapitän. Benny swung his leg over the Honda CB750 and pressed the electric starter. The engine burst into life and he grinned. His grin faded slightly as he struggled to get it off its centre stand. The bike was heavy… heavier than most other bikes he had ridden.

Three lean, military-looking men in faded jeans had climbed out of the station wagon and were walking towards the loading ramp. As Benny continued to fight the unforgiving Honda, one of the men from the station wagon appeared at the bottom of the cargo ramp. He saw Benny's problem and his face creased in a broad grin. Standing on the extended port vehicle loading ramp, he yelled,

'Benny! Don't be such a Schmendrick!'

Benny glanced back as he tried to turn the heavy Honda around in the confined space of the cargo hold and yelled back,

'Lech tizdayen!'… 'Go fuck yourself!'

Laughing, the man walked up the ramp and, grabbing the handlebars, helped Benny to wrench the machine round until it was pointing in the right direction. Benny grinned at him

'Thanks a lot, Schlemiel!'

And, snicking the Honda into gear, accelerated down off the ramp. Two other men approached and jumped up onto the ramp. Rani came forward and shook them warmly by the hand. Turning, he introduced them.

'These are the guys who will fly this airplane out when we are unloaded. They are an Air corps crew. They fly these birds all the time.'

One of the men; a strapping six-footer with calm, dark-brown eyes stepped forward and shook Alex by the hand.

'My congratulations! An impressive landing!'

Alex shrugged.

'Thanks! But you should be congratulating the Lady. I was just riding shotgun!'

The man stared at Stacey, and then dropped his eyes momentarily.

My profound apologies, Miss. Even our female operational pilots do not deploy assault approaches; let alone full, beta landings. Where did you train?'

Stacey smiled.

'That would be telling… just let's say I learned my trade in Indo-China.'

'He nodded; and a look of apperception came into his eyes.'

'Indo-China? Not Viet-Nam… Perhaps, Laos?... Air America?'

She smiled quietly.

'That's for me to know… and you to wonder about!'

The other two men had opened the tailgate of the station wagon and were lifting out stubby grey cylinders; each about three feet long and twelve inches in diameter. They were obviously very heavy. Stacey gave the first man a curious glance. He smiled.

'That's how we get out of here. They're Mark-Six, JATO pods... solid rockets; each developing a thousand pounds of thrust per pod for a duration of fifteen seconds when they're fired. They're fitted to what would have been the parachute drop air deflectors had this bird been a standard C-130. As it is; she actually is a modified C-130B. She's one of our covert ships, chosen because the "B" variant was never factory-fitted with pylon tanks, and, with a civilian paint job, she looks just like an ordinary L-100 civilian freighter. Our maintenance guys sealed up the deflectors but left the mounts for the pods... having slightly disguised the aft mounting channels. Come and see.'

He walked to the fuselage and pulled out a mean-looking combat knife, the point of which, he prodded into the fuselage paint just forward of four brackets stepped up the fuselage side, in front of the exit door that would have been used for paradropping on a Military Hercules. The knife point lifted the corner of a strip of painted aluminium tape, which he ripped away revealing a slotted channel containing a recessed latch which he pulled out and locked into position. He then repeated this operation until four channels and latches were exposed. He held up the last strip of tape.

'Speedtape! It's great stuff! We even use it for patching bullet holes!'

Stacey nodded.

'I did wonder about those brackets... and the assisted take-off panel just below the low speed ground idle buttons panel on the copilot's side of the flight control pedestal.'

He grinned.

'So now you know. Let's get back whilst the guys mount the pods. They're heavy... about one hundred and sixty-five pounds each... and there are four to-a-side. Still; it'll keep 'em fit!'

A deep rumble echoed through the cargo bay as Chana fired up the Opel Kapitän B and gingerly reversed it down the loading ramp. Whoever had modified it back in Tel Aviv knew exactly what they were doing. Europe was jam-packed with nondescript grey Opel Kapitäns... almost as many as there were old, black Mercedes-Benz. It was a good ride for the purpose to which it would be put; just one more unmemorable element of a city's traffic; but, this particular element was a grey bullet with racing tyres and suspension, and tuned exhausts. Chana reversed the Opel back about ten yards; then swung the car out across the grass towards the concrete roadway, with Benny following on the Honda; whilst the two men manhandled the eight JATO pods across to the airplane. Alex and Rani offered to help, but their offer was politely declined; they could however, provide some extra muscle in lifting the pods into position.

With the JATO pods eventually fitted; Rani walked back to where the blue station wagon was parked; climbed in, started the engine, and moved the vehicle away to the concrete roadway where Chana and Benny had parked the other vehicles. The three Air Corps men entered the fuselage and closed the loading ramp. As Stacey and Alex stepped back; the man who had explained the JATO pod system, slid back the cockpit pilot's window and waved. She murmured, "Shalom," and hurried across the grass with Alex towards the waiting vehicles.

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The mild, low roar engine noise of the L-100 Freighter rose as the condition levers were moved into flight idle and the throttles were pushed into the take-off position. The propellers created a deep roar that was gut wrenching, and the big bird began to waddle ponderously towards the far end of the strip. The sound lessened slightly as it disappeared between the two lines of trees flanking the strip. As they stood and watched; they heard the L-100 Freighter turn and run up her engines. Rani came and stood beside them. He grinned.

'Now, just watch this… he'll apply take-off power; and once he's sure he has four good engines, he'll release the brakes, accelerate, and ignite the pods long before he reaches his V1 decision speed.'

The tree line obscuring the L-100 Freighter was, maybe, two hundred and forty yards long; the tail fin was visible above the trees, and Stacey estimated that the pilot was accelerating at something like forty knots. She had brought the airplane down safely… albeit with full reverse thrust in beta configuration… that is, reversing the pitch of the props whilst still in the air… and stopped the bird in just over four hundred and sixty feet. Getting her off again was going to be something quite different!

The L-100 Freighter appeared from behind the tree line rolling at perhaps, sixty knots… then; the pilot ignited the JATO packs. With an ear-shredding roar; great jets of flame trailing thick, black smoke burst from the rocket pods, the L-100 accelerated rapidly; her nose pitched up sharply as the pilot hauled back on the yoke and she blasted her way into the sky in an almost fifty-degree climb. With their ears singing; they watched her continue to blare her fiery way into the heavens, until, at something like two thousand feet, the rocket pods depleted, and she nosed over into level flight as the hum of her engines became audible once again. On the ground they stared at each other in silence; then Alex spoke.

'Holy shit! That was some kind of ride! He must have gotten off in less than a thousand feet!'

Rani nodded.

'More like less than nine hundred. You should see them doing it in combat situations. They really are some crazy mothers… but, then… as your old US Army proverb says… "In order to be Old and Wise, One must first be Young and Stupid"… and who wants to live forever?'

Time to go… before the fireworks display attracted any curious locals. With Benny leading on the motorcycle; they drove out across the old airfield and picked up a track that led down to the little hamlet of Haindorf which lay about two kilometres to the south-west, where they joined the main A-1 autobahn to Vienna.

The sixty-five kilometres drive to Vienna took a little under three-quarters of an hour at the speed Benny was pushing the big Honda. On the outskirts of Penzing; where the Autobahn ended, he pulled into a gas station forecourt and waited for Chana to catch up. As she swung the Opel into the forecourt, Benny, who was leaning against the motorcycle, grinned, and called out,

'What took you so long? I thought you said that old clunker was fast!'

Rani glowered at him.

'I thought I told you not to ride like a kus! Where would we have been if you'd splattered yourself all across the highway?'

Benny shrugged.

'Be'tachat shelcha! I didn't, so don't piss your panties!'

Rani sadly shook his head and turned to Chana.

'Maybe he'll calm down when we begin the business.'

She snorted.

'Don't bet on it. I've worked with him before. During a mission he's totally reliable; but any other time. He's a complete zayin!'

Rani nodded.

'Great! How are we for gas? We may as well fill up here before we head on in to the safe house.'

Stacey spoke up.

'So, where is the safe house? If it's not too far out of our way; I need to drop in to Vienna Central Police Headquarters and deliver some information to an officer who is also one of your assets.'

He stared at her.

'One of ours?'

She nodded.

'Yes; she is one of Richard Menke's people. She'll need to know that he was killed in Budapest.'

He looked at her askance.

'I don't like it. We need to keep a low profile.'

She looked at him steadily.

'I will keep a low profile. I'll just say that I am passing through Vienna on my way back home, and have some loose ends to tie up concerning the assignment that Menke and I were undertaking. I may be able to get some information on the identities and locations of our targets from her.'

He raised an eyebrow.

'I still don't like it.'

She shrugged.

'It's something I have to do. Where is the safe house?'

He hesitated.

'OK. It's in the old city… the Innere Stadt.'

She nodded.

'Fine. That's only about half a kilometre north of where I have to be. I can easily walk there after we get to our destination.'

The safe house was a post-war, three-storey house down a dog-legged, narrow roadway off Wallnerstrasse. The Opel and the motorcycle could be parked up completely concealed from the main thoroughfare. Having unloaded the three wooden cases containing the ordnance and weapons for the assignment, the team allocated their sleeping quarters, and, whilst Benny and Yarin began unpacking the crates in the basement, Rani and Chana spread out and began studying large-scale street maps of Vienna. Stacey glanced at her wristwatch.

'I'd better get moving if I want to catch Maxine.'

Rani looked up.

'Maxine?'

She nodded.

'Yes; Maxine Bergmann… her code-name is "Lailah"… and she's a Kriminalobermeister at Vienna Central.'

Rani frowned.

"Lailah"?… I know of her. She was a legend back at the Academy. Her record is second to none. She successfully completed every mission she was ever sent on; no failures. She is... or was, one of our best assassins. She went dark two years ago. Everyone thought that she'd been killed.'

Stacey shook her head.

'Not so. I first met her at least six months ago, right here in Vienna. She was involved in the assignment that Richard Menke and I were carrying out.'

Alex stood up.

'You want me to come with you?'

Stacey shook her head.

'No; it's OK. I'll be fine. No one knows me in Vienna these days; and they certainly have no idea that we are in the city. I'll only be about an hour.'

He gave her an anxious look.

'Well… If you're sure…'

She smiled.

'Yeah, I'll be fine. See you later.'

Nonchalantly, she strolled down the narrow roadway; turned out into Wallnerstrasse and began walking east. She checked her wristwatch again. Almost nine o'clock. She just hoped that Maxine Bergmann would still be on duty.

Vienna, like most fading courtesans, looked her best as the dusk was setting in. The narrow streets of the Innere Stadt... the historic core of the city girded by Die Ringstrasse; the city's nineteenth-century boulevard, built on the course of the old city walls, was lined with pompous buildings of the Austro-Hungarian Empire period. At the end of Wallnerstrasse she cut through towards the elegant, and intricately carved spire of St Stephen's Cathedral, in Stefansplatz; then across into Wollzeile, which would take her down to Stubering and the Police Headquarters. Fussy Baroque façades lined the avenues... elaborately detailed, five, and six-storey, pink-and-cream wedding cakes, seemingly competing with each other for the adoration of the myriad of gawping tourists who thronged the streets in the daytime. Now; as evening thinned the crowds; Stacey was able to admire the streets and buildings… something she hadn't been able to do the last time she was here.

Every available centimetre of the ostentatious flanks the of the buildings lining this part of the district were covered in alabaster nymphs and satyrs, cherubs, and gilded valkyries astride winged stallions, overlooking the maze of streets and avenues strung with a shimmering web of overhead trolley wires, beneath which, the red-and-cream trolley cars rumbled and clanged back and forth on their iron tracks, intimidating the little Opels, Volkswagens, Ford Taunuses, and even the occasional Mercedes-Benz; sending them scampering out of their paths like so many frightened rabbits, as the trundling leviathans inexorably shouldered their way along their constraining metal conduits, shaking the ground with their passing.

The Police Headquarters on Stubering was a huge, seven-storey, Neo-classical building stretching for almost a quarter-of-a-kilometre along the eastern side of the avenue. The two pillar-flanked entrances topped on each side by statues of warriors were situated between two superficial projections to the frontage of the building; each of which was topped by an impressive pediment; and had balustraded balconies protruding out at the fourth-floor level. The front pavement between the two entrances was dominated by a massive marble plinth supporting an equally massive equestrian statue, and the entire entrance vista was overseen by a huge, bronze, Imperial Double-headed eagle with outspread wings, astride the parapet of the building. The whole impression of the edifice was intimidating.

Entering the building, she walked purposefully to the reception desk where a young, uniformed cop was writing something in a large ledger. He looked up.

'Ja, Fräulein? Wie kann ich dir helfen?'… 'Yes, Fräulein? How may I help you?

She smiled briefly.

'I wish to see Kriminalobermeister Maxine Bergmann on a matter of the utmost importance.'

He stared at her.

'Wer sind Sie?... Who are you?'

She withdrew her U.S. Diplomatic Passport.

'I am Officer Mckenna; attached to the Embassy of The United States of America.'

He gave her a nervous smile and grabbed at the telephone on the reception desk. Five minutes later; she was sitting in Maxine Bergmann's office on the third floor relating the details of what had occurred so far concerning the operation that she, and Richard Menke had undertaken. She explained to Maxine Bergmann that the first courier, Treffen... who had killed her watch team at the Liesinger Platz Bahnhof had been traced as far as Hungary; where he had been killed by a Hungarian border guard as he tried to get through the checkpoint. He did, however manage to pass the information on to a Hungarian Neo-Nazi named Bernát Kóbor. She paused and looked carefully at Maxine Bergmann.

'I'm sorry to say that Richard was ambushed and killed in Budapest, and I was roughed up by a couple of Budapest's Neo-Nazi bosses. I managed to escape, and, with information received; and the assistance of the Budapest Mossad officers, continued on to Tel Aviv. It turned out that Kóbor made it there, but was killed by one of the Mossad's helpers before he could pass the information over. Unfortunately, this helper was mistakenly identified as being a Fatah operative by a couple of Saudi agents and was incinerated in his flat by means of a fire bomb of some type. The information dossier was destroyed in the blaze; which means that a replacement copy will have to be sent from here. I am with a team that has been sent by Tel Aviv working together with Washington to prevent this from ever happening; and we are working with complete autonomy. What I need from you, are details of any Neo-Nazi factions re-formed in Vienna since the Wiedenbräukeller bombing in Döbling.'

Maxine Bergmann listened in silence. Her eyes were sad; but her face showed no emotion. It was a porcelain mask, unreadable, and stone-cold. At last, she spoke.

'How did Richard die? Was it swift and clean?'

Stacey nodded.

'Yes; one shot to the back of the head. The Budapest Police Surgeon said that he wouldn't have felt a thing.'

Maxine Bergmann nodded.

'Well. At least that's something. Dying quickly and cleanly is a luxury rarely afforded to us in both our lines of work.'

Her eyes were no longer sad.

'Your team… I take it that they are a Metsada team?'

Stacey nodded.

'Yes; they have been assigned a ratified State Death warrant and have been issued with explicit rules of engagement. There will be no collateral damage.'

Maxine Bergmann sighed.

'Just what I need! More paperwork and hours wasted on investigations! Just make sure my boys don't find too many unexplained bodies. They have enough to do, as it is.'

She reached across her desk and lifted the telephone handset. Dialling a number, she spoke assertively; requesting that a specific dossier be brought to her office. Replacing the receiver she looked steadily at Stacey.

'You will not reveal where you acquired this information that you are about to receive… not to your organisation … or to mine. The State cannot be implicated in any way with your proposed assignment. It would be political suicide to admit that the State was in any way involved in the execution of any of its citizens; however culpable they might be.'

There was a knock on the door. A young police woman entered and placed a thin file on Maxine Bergmann's desk, and left. Maxine Bergmann opened the file and withdrew two closely-typed sheets of foolscap paper. She then walked across to a duplicator machine in the corner of the office and printed off a copy of each of the originals. She slipped the tissue-thin copies into a large Manilla envelope; sealed it with an official seal and handed it to Stacey. She smiled; a cold smile.

'And that, I think, concludes our business, Officer Mckenna.'

She glanced at her wristwatch.

'I'm about to leave for the day. May I give you a lift somewhere?'

Stacey took the envelope, and smiled.

'Thank you. You could drop me by St Stephen's Cathedral, in Stefansplatz; if you're heading that way.'

Maxine Bergmann smiled.

'Very good, Officer Mckenna! Nine exits out of Stefansplatz; and no way for me to know which one you will take!'

Stacey smiled quietly.

'Is there any reason that you would want to know?'

Maxine Bergmann shook her head.

'As far as I am concerned, you are not even in Vienna. Now; let's get down to the car.'

Maxine Bergmann pulled her black Opel Commodore into the kerb at Stefansplatz, and turned to Stacey.

'I wish you good hunting, Officer Mckenna; but please be careful. Your targets are animals; and the next time I see you I don't want it to be on a mortuary slab.'

She handed Stacey a slip of paper, and smiled thinly.

'Here's my direct telephone number at Headquarters, should you need to contact me.'

Stacey nodded and stepped out onto the pavement. Maxine Bergmann pulled away into the traffic, turned right into Rotenturmstrasse, and accelerated away, heading east towards the river.

An hour later; Stacey and Alex were sitting round the table in the safe house with the other members of the team. They were all studying the duplicator flimsies, a large-scale map of Vienna; and a collection of black and white photographs of buildings and streets marked on their reverse sides with hand-written notes. As Rani read out a name from the flimsies, Benny flipped through a Vienna telephone directory and called out a location. Alex then marked the street map accordingly; and Chana thumbed through the photographs for a match with the name.

In this way, they were putting together a plan of action. According to the plan; Rani would make the initial surveillance of each address. When he had identified and confirmed the target, he would return and report to Benny who would set up the scenario for Chana and Yarin to expedite the hit. So far, they had identified fifteen possible… and one confirmed.

This confirmed target was not actually a member of the Neo-Nazi faction… he was a facilitator; but, might well have information which would lead to whoever was holding the information. Consequently, it was decided that this target… a certain Rolf Haider would be intercepted and brought in for a "little chat."