Chapter Two.
As she slowly came back to consciousness; Stacey became aware that her left thumb seemed to have turned to throbbing numbness; her left hand was bandaged, and there was an unpleasant metallic taste in her mouth. She did a quick scan of his surroundings and after a few seconds realised she was safe. She was lying in a soft bed with equally soft covers draped over her; and Richard Menke was sitting beside the bed watching her. She was wearing silk pyjamas; and she wondered briefly who had undressed her. He smiled.
'Good morning. Are you feeling better today?'
She nodded.
'Yes, thank you; but where the hell am I?... And how did I get here?'
He stood up.
'I think, that first, I make coffee, then I'll explain.'
He moved towards the door, and then turned.
'Cream and sugar?'
She nodded.
'Please; cream and one sugar.'
As he left the room and the clinking of china drifted from the kitchen area, she lifted her left hand and studied it. The bandaging was neat and gave off a resinous, slightly citric, and smoky aroma. Hesitantly, she flexed her thumb; anticipating the sharp burning pain. There was none; her thumb, although difficult to bend; appeared to be relatively undamaged. Richard Menke returned carrying two coffee mugs. He handed one to her and sat beside her again. He smiled.
'When you passed out, I had to get you out of there quickly. There was no way of knowing if the opposition had zeroed in on you. We had no trouble in doing just that; so it's reasonable to assume that they could do the same. I gave you a sedative and brought you here. This is one of our safe houses in the Forest Vorst area to the south of the city centre. I put you to bed and dressed your hand. Your clothes are hanging in the closet.'
She took a sip from the coffee mug and glanced at him over its rim. So; he had seen her naked. His face gave nothing away; it merely retained the same, concerned expression. She took another sip of the excellent coffee, and asked;
'What is that smell coming from the bandages?'
He smiled again.
'That is one of our Middle Eastern secrets… it's an ointment made from pure frankincense. It's very rare and expensive, but works miracles on arthritis… so there was no reason to suppose that it wouldn't work on your thumb.'
She nodded.
'You're not wrong, Officer Menke. My thumb feels much better. Thank you.'
He nodded.
'I knew it would. We have used it for more than five thousand years in the Arabian Peninsula… and besides which; what we are likely to encounter in the days to come will need us both to have two good hands… and please call me Richard.'
She smiled.
'OK, Richard; and you must call me Lucy.'
He shook his head.
'No; that cover is blown… and I cannot use your real name. We are going into Austria by way of Germany; so a good Teutonic name is your best option… after all; a blonde, blue-eyed girl fits in perfectly in either of those countries.'
She nodded.
'That makes sense. Any suggestions?
Menke shrugged.
'There is one that has been researched for you. It's Austrian, rather than German; and is similar to your real name.'
Stacey raised an eyebrow.
'You know my real Christian name?'
He nodded.
'Yes, Miss Mckenna. It's "Staysha"… but everyone who is close to you uses your Americanised Christian name: "Stacey." We've arranged a cover for you that these fascist thugs will never be able to resist. You are now "Steini Brasack." You are the only daughter of SS-Standartenführer Kurt Brasack, who commanded the 2nd SS Panzer Division Das Reich on the Eastern Front for a short period in 1943. He survived the war and escaped via Odessa to one of the old German Empire colonies... German South West Africa. It came under the control of the South Africans after the end of the war. You were born in a little place named Ramans Drift, on the Orange River, the boundary between South African and the former German colony.
Brasack and his daughter were killed in Cape Town in 1966 by a team of Metzada operatives during a siege in a synagogue they had intended to burn down after having executed the Rabbi, and any other Jewish worshippers they found there. Documents were found at their apartment; including Brasack's SS identity documents and your Birth certificate… These will incontrovertibly authenticate your identity to these Neo-Nazi scum.'
She nodded.
'OK, "Fräulein Steini Brasack" it is then. So who are you? And what's our cover story going to be?'
Menke hesitated.
'I am the son of Brasack's adjutant, and your bodyguard. As the daughter of a prominent SS Officer, you are considered a prime target for Zionist fundamentalists. My name is Bruno Heynig. As to our cover story… I haven't quite figured that one out just yet.'
She shrugged.
'OK, so what is the mission?'
Menke shifted his position in his chair, paused, and then spoke.
'As you are aware from your initial briefing; an Austrian Neo-Nazi connection has been actively involved in the not so discreet questioning of certain parties in Europe concerning the supposed "Operation Plumbat." So far, the body count is at least three… both Belgian and German. We are certain that this is the work of one, or more of what are known as the "Kameradschaften"… underground cells of hardcore Neo-Nazis across Austria and Germany. We are going to infiltrate a newly-formed, militant paramilitary group known as Kameradschaft Babenberg.
We have acquired accurate intelligence that they are now active in Vienna, and are suspected of having orchestrated the killings of those having knowledge of The Plumbat Affair in Germany. According to German Police reports, two employees of the West German front company that was alleged to have been involved in the acquisition of the material were tortured; presumably to extract information from them; and then executed.'
He paused, and studied her.
'Our mission is to pose as German Neo-Nazis; seek out this faction, and join their group. The number of Kameradschaften in Germany is estimated at around one hundred separate groups, each with roughly ten to fifteen active members. We merely pick one at random as our cover. It is unlikely that the Babenberg group will check as all the groups are in contravention of the Austrian Verbotsgesetz - the Law of Prohibition; enacted in 1947 to halt the spread of fascist ideology.'
Stacey put down her coffee mug and studied him.
'So, we infiltrate. What then?'
Menke drew in a deep breath.
'We establish exactly what they have discovered; whether they have passed any information on to either the Arabs or Russians… and if they haven't… we make sure that they don't.'
She nodded.
'In other words, we implement "Executive action" as my Agency so elegantly puts it.'
He smiled.
'In Hebrew, we say "Ratsach"… it's more or less the same end result.'
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
She gave him a wry smile.
'Oh, Good; no pressure, then!'
He gave her a gently reproachful look.
'It's no joke. Austria was… and still is, the cradle of Nazi-ism; and it's down to us to make sure these Neo-Nazi scum don't manage to engineer a major conflict in the Middle East. First I need you to understand something about these men. They are nothing remotely like your home-grown Neo-Nazis, Militias, and White Supremacists. They are cold-blooded killers who leave no witnesses. They kill for sport, and the humiliation of their victims. They target homosexual couples and Jewish people. They are suspected of having tortured children in front of the parents to force them to reveal the whereabouts of wealth, or to betray similar "targets."
More worrying is their pursuance of information concerning the whereabouts of the riches plundered by the Third Reich. As far as we can ascertain, the old "Odessa" organisation… the international Nazi network set up towards the end of World War Two by a group of SS officers, ceased to exist about 1952 and was replaced by an updated organization called "Kameradenwerke"; which literally means "Comrade Workshop"; with a new generation of supporters… fanatics, staunch fascists and Neo-Nazis dedicated to the old regime. In the ensuing years it has sought to aid former Nazis overseas in avoiding capture and maintaining concealment.
The purpose of the old Odessa was to establish and facilitate a world-wide clandestine escape network for the quick and safe transference of assets, and a reliable means of escape to allow SS members to avoid their capture and prosecution for war crimes. Most of those fleeing out of Germany and Austria were helped to flee to South America and the Middle East. Mossad unearthed documentary proof that the seizure of property and assets had been a lucrative bonus of the holocaust.'
He took another sip of his cofee and continued:
'The list of missing artefacts is staggering; but pieces have occasionally appeared on the market. Much of this loot was packed into U-Boats as the Third Reich began to crumble, and was spirited away… mainly to South America… Argentina, to be precise; to where many Germans with Nazi connections fled at the end of the war, and were given shelter by sympathetic governments.
The stolen plunder that the U Boats transported was not meant for specific individuals, even though many such funds were eventually diverted into private bank accounts. It had a far more sinister purpose… to finance a new Fourth Reich. Our main concern is the Middle East. At least five U-Boat loads were shipped to Egypt, and their cargoes secreted away. However; one U-Boat; U-879, was caught and sunk off Abu Qir point to the north-west of Alexandria by a British Royal Air Force, Coastal Command airplane. The Mossad manifest indicates that she was carrying a substantial quantity of the vast riches accumulated from millions of concentration camp victims, as well as a treasure of immense value, comprising containing gold, diamonds, rubies; emeralds, sapphires, and platinum - the loot from thousands of churches, museums, and banks in every Nazi-occupied country. Much of this has been salvaged by covert means, and has found its way into the hands of the Nazi fugitives. It is trickling back into the coffers of both the Neo-Nazis and sympathetic Arab circles; both of whom share the sole aspiration of the complete destruction of Israel as the Jewish Homeland.'
Stacey was silent for a few moments as she absorbed all this information. Then she spoke. Her words were contemplative and measured;
'This U-Boat is just one hoard. What about the others? Just after the end of the War; American intelligence agents found a page torn from a Nazi financial ledger listing a single cache hidden somewhere in Austria: millions of Dollars worth of Swiss francs, American dollars, gold, diamonds; stamp collections and objects of art; and a huge amount of narcotics... a total value of something approaching thirty-seven thousand, million Dollars. So far as is known, this tremendous treasure hoard has never been found. Who's to say these crazies haven't already gotten their hands on that one?'
Richard Menke nodded.
'Now, you begin to see the enormity of the task. In financial terms the sums involved are almost impossible to grasp. The hoard you speak of is just one of many. For example; in the area known as Ausseerland to the east of Bad Aussee, in the north-eastern part of Austria; billions of dollars worth of World War Two German treasure is known to have been hidden; a great deal of it said to be sunken in the icy waters of mountain lakes. Then, you have the five hundred-million gold francs hidden in the area around Salzburg; millions of Dollars worth of gold bullion and gems, looted from the Hungarian National Bank in Budapest lying somewhere in the Danube off Vienna.
The entire remaining funds of the SS is believed to be hidden somewhere in the Black Forest. It just goes on and on... Greece, Italy; and even on remote islands that were once part of the German East Indies Empire in the Pacific Ocean; U-Boat wrecks have also been found there.'
Stacey shook her head in disbelief.
'So; we go after all this, as well?'
Richard Menke shook his head.
'No; we have a restitution department which tracks down art and other property stolen or seized from Jewish owners before and during the war. Our mission is to secure or destroy any material intelligence the group is preparing to pass on; and to neutralise their membership. We leave for Vienna tomorrow morning.'
A nondescript, pistachio-green Opel Rekord four-door sedan picked them up from the safe house early the next morning. Its driver was a young, dark-eyed girl who handed Menke a thick, manila envelope. She then gave him some sort of instructions in a cursory, clipped manner. She spoke in Hebrew. Stacey's grasp of the language was passable; but she only caught a few phrases. From what was said; she realised that this girl was almost certainly, a Mossad agent. As they spoke; the girl's eyes continually flicked from the road to the driving mirror, studying Stacey. With a hint of contempt in her voice; the girl said;
'So this is your new CIA friend, Richard?'
Menke nodded.
'Yes; you can call her "Steini"… and that's all you need to know.'
The girl nodded.
'I'm taking you both to see "Masluh." There, you will be equipped; and your friend can change into some clothes that are more in keeping with your cover as fascist pigs.'
Stacey glanced at Menke.
'Masluh?'
He nodded.
Our local quartermaster. That's all you need to know.'
The girl drove east through the city suburbs for something approaching ten minutes; and turned onto a residential street that led towards a thickly wooded area. She turned right at a T-junction at the end of the road and drove south along a dead-straight road bordered by the wood for almost one kilometre. Taking a fork to the left; she followed a winding road for three kilometres through the woods until a driveway appeared on the right. Turning in, she followed the dirt track until a typical Belgian farmhouse appeared.
Beyond the farmhouse were ranged six agricultural-style buildings; each the size of a typical farm barn. As she stopped the Opel; a man wearing dungarees came out of the house, with a broken shotgun over his left arm. Recognising the girl; he raised a hand, and smiled. Getting out of the car; the girl introduced Menke and Stacey. The man pushed his spectacles further up his nose and nodded.
'Welcome. You need tools; and the lady needs a new wardrobe?'
Menke nodded.
'Yes; hand luggage for Germany and Austria.'
The man gave a wry grin.
'Ah! The Domain of the Fascist Beast!'
He held out a hand to Stacey, and motioned to the girl driver.
'Come, my dear. She will conduct you to our fashion department and advise you on the latest fascist "à la mode." I will conduct your companion to the tool and document department.'
Upstairs in the farmhouse the girl directed Stacey into one of the bedrooms… or at least; that's how it appeared at first glance. She pressed a concealed switch and one wall slid back exposing another room packed with clothes rails. Turning; she looked Stacey up and down. She nodded.
'Hmmm. American size four? That'll be European size thirty-eight.'
Stacey smiled.
'More or less, I guess!'
The girl selected a white shirt and a pair of tight black jeans. Turning to another rail she removed a black-leather, blouson style jacket. She smiled.
'This will do nicely. It’s a Hugo Boss jacket styled on the wartime Luftwaffe Jagdflieger pilot pattern… elastic cuffs and waist band, but without the fur lining; and, as every self-respecting fascist swine knows… Boss designed uniforms for the SS… so it's almost "costume de rigueur." It also has the advantage of having an inner pistol pocket. You also need boots… Two inch heels. Your hair and make-up are fine… except I would suggest a carmine-red lipstick… these fascists like their women slutty.'
Meanwhile, Masluh was equipping Richard Menke in one of the barns. The place was a veritable arsenal. This innocent-looking agricultural building contained all the necessary equipment for Mossad-style assassinations… a small laboratory of poisons, sealed in vials until the moment came to strike. Drawers full of long, and short-bladed knives. Packets of piano wire used to strangle; Tins of explosives disguised as throat lozenges which were capable of blowing off a person's head. It was a comprehensive arsenal of guns: short-barrelled pistols, silencers; sniper rifles with more than a two-kilometre killing range; and a wide selection of munitions.
Masluh turned to Menke.
'So where is Biberman? Will he be along later?'
Richard Menke shook his head.
'He won't be coming. He didn't make it.'
Masluh looked surprised.
'What happened?'
Menke shrugged.
'Sorry, my friend; its need to know, and you don't need to know.'
Masluh shrugged.
'OK. But he was the pilot. How d'you intend to reach your destination?'
Menke smiled softly.
'Steini is a qualified pilot.'
Masluh studied Menke over the top of his spectacles.
'Can she fly a UH-1?'
Menke shrugged.
'I have no idea… but we'll soon find out!'
Stacey appeared from the house with the girl. Dressed in the new garments, she made an imposing sight, with her long, blonde hair, blue eyes, and wearing bright red lipstick. Richard Menke stared; but Masluh whistled between his teeth and grinned. Turning to the girl, he nodded approvingly.
'You really have outdone yourself, this time, Danya; you've transformed our pretty American friend into a typical Nazistische Flittchen!'
He glanced at Stacey
'That means...'
She interrupted him, and smiled.
'I know what that means, Monsieur Masluh... a typical Nazi slut!'
Masluh grinned, and nodded.
'Now, all we have to do is choose a pistol that will fit the pocket in that jacket. I would suggest a Walther PPK/S, nine-millimetre Kurz, with ninety-five grain, jacketed hollow-points. In a defensive handgun; hollow-point ammunition has much better stopping power than full metal jacket or round-nose lead; and stopping power is what you need if one of the bastards you'll be dealing with comes at you. Hollow point bullets expand and stop in the human body and thus the attacker absorbs much more of the bullet's kinetic energy than if the bullet had merely punched through him and left two small holes. Your attacker is more likely to be incapacitated after one or two shots and thus, be unable to fire back, stab you, or whatever.'
He handed Stacey the Walther pistol, a shoulder harness; and two full magazines. Turning to Menke, he said;
'I suppose you're going to stick with that damn "Gyppo" cannon of yours?'
Menke grinned.
'You've got nothing as good as my "Egyptian Contract" model 951, modified to the Egyptian Arab Republic military spec; in your toy box, you old goat! Beretta really went to town on its design. It's totally accurate with superb stopping power; and showed uncanny reliability in desert conditions… as we found out to our cost during the Six-Day War; and that's good enough for me!'