out into the diminishing sunlight. The Aston-Martin, DB-Four, was gone.
The subject, Dr. Hans Traupman (residence above), is in the company of bodyguards around the clock, three-man units on eight hour shifts who are heavily armed, even when escorting the surgeon into an operating room, where they remain throughout surgery. When Traupman goes to restaurants or attends the theater, concerts, or events of any kind, his guards are frequently doubled, flanking him in seats or chairs and often roaming the area in a most Professional manner, scanning the sections. When at Traupman's home, the bodyguards continuously patrol the elevators, the hallways, and the exterior of his luxury apartment house. This is in addition to multiple alarms and backups. In rare visits to public rest rooms, two guards enter with him, the third remaining outside to courteously prohibit others from going in until Traupman reappears. The vehicle He's driven in is an armor-plated Mercedes limousine, the windows bulletproof, gas jets on' all sides to immobilize carjackers and activated from the dashboard. When traveling, he is flown in his private Jet, which is kept in an alarmed, sealed-off hanger. at an airstrip south of Nuremberg. Digital cameras, operating day and night, record all activity inside and out.
The only deviation from this security routine is when Traupman flies to Bonn and takes his motorboat out on the Rhine during those nights when be is presumably attending clandestine meetings of the neo-Nazi movement. (See pre vious report.) Apparently none of the members is permitted to have a crew or a captain, which accounts for the size and maneuverability of the craft. It is a small boat with a 12S hp motor and inflatable pontoons, starboard and port. However, even here be has a large degree of security by way of revolving cameras that send images and sound back to his guards at the marina, where there is the standard helicopter prepared for immediate emergency takeoff (Here, unobserved conclusions may be drawn: There is a radar instrument that transmits river-map coordinates, and, as with his Mercedes, gas jets on the gunwales designed to deter or kill unwanted boarders, the man at the helm protected by a simple mask, which was observed.)
Good luck, Claude. You really owe me for this one. I had to talk my way out of the Bonn marina by saying I was going to buy an American Chris Craft Fortunately, I left the name of a Spanish undercover pig who operates here and owes me money.
Drew Latham, laughing quietly at the last paragraph, put Moreau's report down on the antique table-desk and looked over at Witkowski and Karin, who were sitting on the couch.
"Is there any contingency that son of a bitch hasn't thought of?" he asked.
"It's pretty complete," replied the colonel.
"I wouldn't know," said De Vries.
"I haven't read it."
"Read it now and weep." [email protected] up and brought the report to Karin, then sat in one of the brocaded armchairs across from both of them. De Vries began reading as Latham continued.
"I'll be damned if I know where to begin," he said.
"That bastard's really covered, right down to the men's room."
"It looks rough on paper, but up close we might spot gaps."
"We damn well better. According to this, it'd be a lot easier to take him out than to take him."
"It always is."
"Diversion," said De Vries, looking up from Moreau's report.
"It's the only thing I can think of. Divert the attention of the guards somehow."
"That's axiomatic," said Witkowski.
"Going further, immobilize a couple and run an assault. The question is how, and how disciplined are his gunslingers."
"As you say, Stosh, we won't know until we get there."
"Speaking of which, the two men from NATO are downstairs in my office. They arrived on the three o'clock flight from Brussels, with new passports and papers that say they're salesmen for an aircraft company."
"Good cover," said Latham.
"Those salesmen are all over Europe."
"We had to go around some dicey corners to clear everything.
It took all morning and part of the afternoon to complete their 'authenticity." They're actually on the company's payroll."
"Was all that necessary?" asked Karin.
"Indeed it was, young lady. Any references to their real names would reveal the service records of two Special Forces commandos who operated behind the lines in Desert Storm. Each is as handy with a knife as he is with his hands, say nothing of garrotes and marksmanship."
"You're saying they're killers."
"Only when necessary, Karin. Frankly, they're two nice kids, kind of shy actually, who've been trained to react properly in given situations."