Heine would never think to join the rest. The grandson of a Catholic death-camp survivor, he detested the Nazis and all they represented. This had contributed in a very large way to the chancellor's decision to put Heine in command. For, if it became necessary, Colonel Friedrich Heine would not hesitate to shoot his own men if their loyalties swayed.
The convoy had passed a lonely inn about a kilometer back and the colonel's jeep had just rounded the most recent desolate turn in the winding road when a strange chatter from the rear trucks began to filter up from the radio. The men of his force were yelling some nonsense about someone running up alongside the convoy.
"How fast are we going?" Heine asked.
"Forty kilometers per hour, sir," his driver replied.
Too fast for anyone to follow on foot. His men were obviously in a joking mood. Heine hoped that they hadn't already learned about IV.
Heine was about to instruct his driver to advise the men to hold down their chatter when the door near the man suddenly sprang open. A hand reached in and plucked the driver from his seat, tugging him out and flinging him upward. Heine became aware of a sudden weight on the roof of the jeep, even as a strange intruder slipped into the now vacant driver's seat. The man slowed the jeep to a stop.
Taking the cue from their leader, the column of vehicles whined to a stop, as well. The colonel's driver scampered down from the roof, his boots denting the hood in his haste.
Behind them came angry shouts. Doors opened. Feet clomped up the narrow forest road. At the direction of the colonel's young driver, the jeep was surrounded by armed soldiers in a matter of seconds. Rifles leveled menacingly.
From the driver's seat, Remo looked out at the dozens of men. He yawned.
"Let me guess. You're on a picnic and they're here to interrogate the ants," Remo said to the colonel.
"You are not German," Heine accused.
"No way, sweetheart. Could never get used to all that black shoe polish."
"Leave now," said Heine. "And I will not file charges."
Remo was aware that the colonel was surreptitiously reaching for the gun at his hip holster. Heine suddenly pulled the weapon loose. He swung it around to Remo, only to have it pulled from his hand before he had even found his target. Remo placed the gun beneath the driver's seat.
Heine seethed. "I suppose you are with Four?" he said.
"You know about them?" Remo asked.
Heine nodded. "I have been sent to stop you."
"Sorry," Remo said. "I'm not Four." He quickly appraised the colonel. "Give me your hand," he announced.
The intruder had already disarmed him with ease. Heine thought it pointless to resist. Scowling, he stretched his hand out to Remo.
Remo took hold of the fleshy area between the colonel's thumb and forefinger. He squeezed.
The pain was so intense and came so quickly that it took the colonel's breath away. He could not even scream.
"Are you with Four?" Remo asked, easing back on the pressure.
"What?" Heine demanded. "No. No, of course not. My orders are to obliterate them."
Remo knew he was telling the truth. He released the colonel's hand. Heine immediately jammed the injured part of his hand into his mouth.
"Sorry, pal," Remo said. "Just had to make sure."
"Who are you?" Heine garbled past a mouthful of thumb.
"All you need to know is that I'm on your side." Colonel Heine examined Remo with the same suspicious eyes he had been using earlier on the trees of the Black Forest. He seemed to reach some internal conclusion.
"It is nice to know someone is," the colonel harrumphed, pulling his hand from his mouth. Heine rolled down the window of his jeep. "Get these men back in their trucks," he ordered his driver.
After a moment of convincing, the surprised driver did as he was told. Reluctantly the men began lowering their rifles. Heine got the distinct impression that some of them had hoped to catch him in the cross fire. Repayment for his failure to join the fascist cause of a few short months ago. Slowly the troops began trudging back down the road to their waiting vehicles.
"You realize a lot of those guys were ready to shoot you, too," Remo commented as he started the jeep.
"They are more loyal to the ghosts of the past," Colonel Heine said somberly.
Remo frowned deeply. "There's been a lot of that going around lately," he said. He stomped down on the accelerator.
With a lurch, the police convoy began to roll once more down the ancient, curving road.
Chapter 22
The ragtag convoy led by Adolf Kluge passed through the gentle lower slopes of the Black Forest, avoiding the high mountains of the Baden-Wurttemberg region. These large dark peaks loomed like giant sentinels along the distant horizon.
Above the frosted mountaintops, the heavy gray clouds of early morning had grown more swollen with every passing hour. However, they had failed as yet to produce a single flake of winter snow.
As the lead vehicle broke into a wide clear patch in the middle of the forest, the Master of Sinanju cast a glance at the distant mountains.
From the rear seat, his squeaky voice intoned: "'Twas as much as twelve huge wagons in four whole nights and days,
Could travel from the mountain down to the salt sea bay,
Though to and fro each wagon thrice journeyed every day."
"The Nibelungenlied," Heidi said, nodding. The look of flushed exuberance had not left her face since morning.
Beside her in the front seat, Adolf Kluge was silent. The farther into this primitive portion of Germany they had traveled, the more convinced he had become of the authenticity of the legends. As he watched the mountains rise up through the desolate clearing, he felt a flutter of excitement in the pit of his stomach.
"If that is so," Kluge said thoughtfully, "we do not have as many vehicles as we will need."
"The wagons used were as the poem describes," Chiun said knowingly. "I will be surprised if the conveyances with which this expedition is equipped are able to hold even a third of what Siegfried's carts transported."
Heidi was thinking aloud. "So it was three trips a day for twelve wagons?"
"That is correct," Chiun said.
"For four days," Kluge added. "That would be 144 wagonloads."
"And if Chiun is right, we will have three times as many loads as that."
Kluge nodded. "Which makes 432," he said. Heidi's cheeks grew more flushed as her mind attempted to encompass that much treasure. Try as she might, she couldn't begin to imagine so much wealth in a single place.