21I woke up to a lousy taste in my mouth and the news that my father was on the move. The Mossad’s watcher at the hotel had reported that Victor Collins had boarded the airport limousine bound for Schönefeld. Luckily, Erika was at Mossad headquarters when the message came in. She realized instantly what my father’s unexpected travel meant. Krüger had given up his hostage—and his shield—and abandoned any plan to seek safe haven in the US. She grabbed the phone and called van Hoof. He roused me and, ten minutes later, we were racing toward Schönefeld.
We had to assume that Krüger would carry out his threat. We had to stop my father from boarding an American carrier. We had to keep him off a doomed flight.
Bert drove the Mercedes taxi. Van Hoof and I were his passengers, dressed once again
