Hitler's Finger Read online

  HITLER’S FINGER

  PJ SKINNER

  The Sam Harris Series Book 2

  Smashwords edition

  Copyright 2018 PJ Skinner

  Dedicated to my beloved friends Rocio Palacios and Diego Arias

  If you enjoyed this book, please return to your favourite ebook retailer to discover other titles in the Sam Harris Series

  Fool’s Gold (Book 1 Free Download)

  The Star of Simbako (Book 3 Summer 2018)

  Go to PJSKINNER website for more info

  Visit my Smashwords author page

  This book is available in print at most online retailers

  Visit my website for more information, offers and author contact

  Thank you for your support.

  Smashwords Edition, License Notes

  Thank you for downloading this ebook. You are welcome to share it with your friends. This book may be reproduced, copied and distributed for non-commercial purposes, provided the book remains in its complete original form.

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Other Books in the Series

  Coming Soon

  Connect with the Author

  Berlin April 1945

  The two officers shared a cigarette and stared out into the ruins of the Third Reich. The broken silhouettes of bombed buildings and piles of rubble stood out against the iron-grey sky. It had been a cold hard spring and the two men struggled to hide from the north wind which blew through the gaps in the houses. Monotonous shelling could be heard pounding the suburbs, increasing in intensity as the guns approached the centre of Berlin. Dr Kurt Becker flinched when a particularly loud explosion shook the ground, shifting nervously on his feet and looking around for cover. Too late to back out now. He took a deep drag on his cigarette and passed it to his companion, an SS sergeant, veteran of the Winter War. Both men wore battered greatcoats pulled tight over their black uniforms, and black leather boots, still polished out of habit. Clearing his throat of the phlegm that had backed up under stress, Becker spat noisily on the ground. He forced himself to speak.

  ‘The Fuhrer is going to kill himself.’

  The shocked silence that followed this revelation was broken by a coughing fit as the other man choked on the strong smoke from the cheap tobacco. Handing back the cigarette, he shook his head in denial.

  ‘Don’t be absurd. That’s blasphemy. What if someone heard you? Anyway, why would he do that?’

  ‘I have been told that Reichsfuhrer Himmler offered a surrender to the Western Allies. Betrayal by one of his closest colleagues, combined with the fact that the Russians are less than a kilometre away, has made the Führer lose heart.’

  ‘I hadn’t realised quite how close they were. No wonder he’s a broken man.’

  ‘They tell me that he suffered a nervous collapse a couple of days ago.’

  ‘What are we going to do?’

  ‘There’s nothing we can do. We’re powerless to stop him. The war is over and he doesn’t want to fall into Russian hands. Who knows what they might do to him?’

  ‘It doesn’t bear thinking about.’

  ‘They are bound to desecrate his body. Look what they did to Mussolini and his wife. The Fuhrer was horrified.’

  ‘Why doesn’t he flee? Surely he still has time to escape?’

  ‘I don’t know where he could go without being captured. Anyway, he refuses to leave the bunker. I think we should look to the future.’

  ‘What future? Haven’t you told me that there’s no future?’

  ‘I’ve a plan, but it sounds a little crazy. You’ll have to trust me.’

  ‘We live in crazy times. What are you going to do?’

  ‘Dr Haase, Hitler’s personal physician, is away so, as his deputy, I’ll be charged with inspecting the Fuhrer’s body to make sure he’s dead before they burn it. I need you to make sure no-one comes in.’

  ‘Okay. Can I know why?’

  ‘I need one of his fingers.’

  CHAPTER 1

  London September 1988

  The telephone rang as Simon was insinuating his hand between Sam’s thighs. She was contemplating causing a row by pushing it away, when the ringing shattered the silence with its shrill insistence.

  ‘Really?’ he said, whipping his hand away in fury. ‘Who on earth can be ringing at this time of night? It’s a bloody liberty.’

  Sam knew exactly who it was. Gloria was the only person who rang with no regard for the time difference.

  ‘Don’t worry. I’ll get it in the kitchen.’

  Slipping out of bed and into her dressing gown, she pulled the cord tight around her waist. She felt guilty for the relief that flooded her body at escaping Simon’s attentions. The tiled hall was cool under her feet and she shivered. It was dark there and she felt for the door handle to the kitchen for several seconds before encircling the cool ceramic globe in her grasp. She went in, shutting the door quietly behind her, not certain whether it was to keep her conversation private or to let her companion sleep. The phone stopped ringing as she reached for the receiver.

  Putting the kettle on, she waited for it to boil, leaning against the counter and reading the postcards on the fridge door. Steam started to escape from the spout and flood the cold air. As she was pouring the bubbling water over the tea leaves, the telephone started to ring again. Through the kitchen door she could hear Simon swearing.

  ‘Hello?’

  ‘Sam? It’s me, Gloria. Are you awake?’

  Sam smiled at the question.

  ‘I am now. Is this a social call? You know that it’s three o’clock in the morning here?’

  ‘Alfredo’s missing.’

  ‘Missing? In what sense?’

  Sam was not surprised. Alfredo was an alcoholic and notorious for going AWOL from his own life. Why was this any different?

  ‘Disappeared. He went into the mountains to look for some Nazis with a gringo journalist and they didn’t come back.’

  Sam ignored the reference to the Nazis as being an exaggeration planted to excuse the hour.

  ‘But I thought that you’d stopped seeing him. How do you know that he’s gone?’

  ‘We’re back together. We couldn’t bear to be apart.’

  Sam thought of Simon waiting impatiently in her bed and felt guilty. Who was she to judge?

  ‘And your father? Does he know about this?’

  ‘Oh no. He’d be angry if he knew that I was seeing Alfredo again and wouldn’t give me any more money. That’s why I thought of you. You’re my only true friend. I need your help to go and look for them.’

  Gloria was being sincere about their friendship. The two women had formed a close bond following their first brush with adventure in the jungles of Sierramar. They were both fearless under their different facades and shared a combination of derring-do and a sense of the ridiculous that led to a similar outlook on life. And Sam was bored. She had recently finished reviewing an interminable and over-worthy feasibility study of
a coal mine in a safe jurisdiction with good logistics that never used one word where six or seven would do. Eight hundred pages of excruciating Germanic efficiency. A sensible person would stay in London and search for more work but she was feeling rebellious. She had been on the receiving end of too many comments suggesting that it was time she settled down now that phase was over. As if she had been partying and drinking instead of working at a perfectly respectable career.

  Now she had the ideal excuse for an adventure. Alfredo had probably gone off on a bender somewhere and would surface eventually looking exhausted and sheepish, but he might genuinely be missing. It was tempting to find out.

  ‘Sam? Are you still there?’

  ‘Yes, I’m still here. So, what’ll I bring you from London, besides tea?’

  ‘You’re coming?’

  ‘Yes, I’ll come. It’s time to get into trouble again. Can you guarantee that?’

  ‘Oh yes, definitely.’

  ‘Okay, I’ll try and find a cheap flight. I’ll ring you when I know the schedule.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Hey, what are friends for?’

  ‘Is Simon with you?’

  ‘Goodnight, Gloria.’

  Sam hung up before Gloria launched into an unsubtle interrogation about her sex life. It would keep. In truth, she would not have been capable of explaining her ill-advised decision to take Simon back at that hour of the morning. Or at any hour. It was similar to putting on a pair of shoes that had blistered her feet the last time she wore them. Until she put them on and started walking, she could never recall the pain they had caused her. She knew what he was capable of, but she still wanted him. It was an itch that needed to be scratched.

  ***

  When she had arrived back from her first trip to Sierramar six months ago, Simon was waiting for her at the airport like an overeager puppy, trying to carry her bags and asking inane questions. At the time, she had no idea how he had found out about her flight, but later her sister Hannah confessed to having given him the details, worn down by a barrage of requests. Sam felt tired after her long flight, and smelt of smoke and sweat. She was definitely not in the mood to be met by a lovesick swain, especially one who had broken her heart and hadn’t been seen for months. She distinctly remembered fobbing off his apologies and pleas for a reunion with conciliatory phrases about considering her options. Yet here he was – larger than life and twice as canine – panting and fawning over her. It would have been funny if it wasn’t so awful. The worst thing was how flattered she felt that he was making such a fuss of her in front of other people. This was new and felt good. In the past, he was so absorbed in his own glamour that he barely acknowledged her presence. Now she had become the star in a scene from a corny film and she revelled in it. Giving in to the thrill of being the leading lady, she let him kiss her, feeling a bit perturbed by the flash of triumph she saw in his eyes.

  And the first few weeks had been nice, starting again with a new, improved version of Simon. He was attentive and considerate and said the right things. Sam, seduced by the warm glow that came with having a plus one instead of excuses, enjoyed the approving glances from people who wanted her to settle down and live a normal life and stop ‘gallivanting around the world as if she were Indiana Jones’. But this good feeling wore off after a few months when Simon started going back to his old ways and taking her for granted. Sam noticed that he had no interest in hearing about her adventures in Sierramar. Her life without him seemed to be an irrelevance as far as he was concerned. She felt a growing resentment fomenting rebellion in her head. Being Mrs to his Mr was anathema to her growing feelings of independence. She didn’t want to fade into a partnership where he held the spotlight firmly on himself. The sex was great but that might not be enough. She was determined to force him into considering her as his equal no matter how close to the edge that might take them. If he wouldn’t acknowledge her as a full partner, he could forget it, as far as she was concerned.

  There was only one problem with this grand plan. She had missed her period and was now beginning to feel the queasy panic of the possibly pregnant. Having her doubts about Simon’s staying power meant that she hadn’t told him yet. She had the feeling that he loved her more when he couldn’t have her. How would he feel if he had to share her? What sort of a father was he likely to be? A question that seemed so rhetorical that she couldn’t ask herself for an answer.

  And what about her? Did she love him or only the idea of him? She was obsessed by his Simon-ness, the arrogant handsome presence and the wicked charm. The fact that he chose her over conventional options always amazed her. An inveterate tomboy who couldn’t stomach girly behaviour, she was not easy to love. But he did and that might be the reason it worked. She loved him because he saw through her defences and wanted what she was hiding. But what if she were to tell him that she might be pregnant? Would he still be interested in a fat woman with stretch marks? She couldn’t deal with this now. A trip to Sierramar would sort out her thoughts. Gloria was a good no-nonsense sounding board for this sort of thing.

  ***

  The silence was broken by the cross voice of her abandoned boyfriend.

  ‘Sam? What the hell is going on out there? Are you coming back to bed or not?’

  ‘Coming.’

  She shuffled down the corridor trailing the cord of her dressing gown in the dust that lined the border between the skirting board and the tiles, and entered the bedroom. Simon was sitting up in bed with the table light illuminating the tufts of his hair and making him look like an indignant owl.

  ‘What the hell was that about? Why were you speaking in Spanish? Don’t tell me. It was that Gloria woman again, wasn’t it? Bloody foreigners.’

  ‘Yes, it was and she’s not a foreigner, she’s my good friend so don’t be obnoxious. She’s in trouble, and she needs my help.’

  ‘There’s a surprise! Now that I believe. The woman is a magnet for bad luck.’

  Sam brindled but she knew that defending Gloria was pointless. Her name was mud as far as Simon was concerned. He blamed her for Sam staying on in Sierramar after her first job with Mike Morton.

  ‘Well, it’s not her. It’s Alfredo Vargas. He’s gone missing.’

  ‘For God’s sake. Isn’t he the alcoholic? What on earth can you do about a missing drunk who is thousands of miles away?’

  Sam hesitated. Simon let out a hoarse disbelieving laugh.

  ‘You’re not going?’

  ‘Um, I might.’

  ‘Don’t be silly, darling. That part of your life is over. You can’t go. What about me?’

  ‘Well, I only said that I’d consider it. Let’s sleep on it, okay? I’m so tired. I can’t think straight.’

  Muttering to himself, Simon moved over to let her into the bed. He switched off the light and reached for her. She flinched at his touch. He knew better than to insist when she was in this mood, so he turned his back on her and went to sleep.

  ***

  ‘You’re going back to Sierramar? That’s nice, darling. Will you stay with Gloria?’ Her mother, Matilda Harris, passed her a big cup of tea. ‘Coffee cake? Go on, you know you want to.’

  ‘A tiny piece. Whoa! That’s not small,’ said Sam.

  ‘I can’t let it get stale.’

  ‘The squander bug is watching,’ said Bill Harris.

  ‘Daddy, the war is over.’

  ‘Will you be going to the jungle?’ he said.

  ‘I’m not sure. It depends on Alfredo.’

  ‘Just in case you are, I have something for you. I got it from one of my clients.’

  ‘Honestly, sweetheart. Sam doesn’t want that thing.’

  ‘What thing?’

  Bill Harris was rummaging in a box in the scullery. ‘Ah, here it is.’ He was holding a box with an alarming picture of a snake and some bolts of lightning shooting into it. He took out a black plastic module with two short metal prongs at the end.

  ‘It looks like something from Star Trek. Ca
n I use it to beam back to England?’ said Sam.

  ‘It’s a stun gun for snake bites. Apparently if you get bitten by a viper, you stick this on the bite and press this button.’ He squeezed the red button on the side of the module. There was a crackling sound like a fly getting electrocuted in a Greek restaurant and blue sparks flew from the prongs.

  ‘I’m not using that. It’s lethal.’

  ‘But it might work. And if you are far from a hospital, it could save your life.’

  ‘Take it, darling, you never know,’ said Matilda.

  ‘I’ll put in in my bag right now,’ said Sam, who didn’t want to disappoint her father. ‘Thanks, Daddy. It’s brilliant.’

  ‘You’ll need batteries,’ said her mother.

  ***

  It wasn’t easy organising a trip to Sierramar without arousing Simon’s suspicion. He was prone to fits of jealousy, as if he couldn’t help projecting his own behaviour onto her. If she tried to hide something he always assumed that she was seeing someone else, something so far from her mind as to require intergalactic travel. Knowing him as she did, she carried on as normal and packed her suitcases while he was at work, replacing them in the hall cupboard whenever he was coming over to her place. He wasn’t aware of her decision to go to Sierramar until he saw the supermarket bag full of tea and chocolate hidden in the wardrobe. By then she had bought the ticket, which was non-refundable, from one of the bucket shops on the Tottenham Court Road.

  ‘I can’t believe how cheap it was,’ she crowed.

  ‘I can’t believe you lied to me about going to Sierramar,’ he said.

  ‘I didn’t lie. I was ever so slightly economical with the truth but I never said I wasn’t going.’

  ‘But you are going. And without me. A man can only take so much, you know.’

  He looked crestfallen but she knew him too well to believe his act.

  ‘Oh, you’ll be fine. You won’t even know I’m gone.’