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  By the time, Saul emerged from the customs area, Alfredo was hopping from foot to foot in expectation. Saul was quite recognisable with his big nose and journalist’s leather satchel. He was a tall man and stooped despite only being in his late fifties. Alfredo stepped forward to shake his hand and noticed that his shirt was pungent with sweat and his trousers were also covered in miscellaneous marks. He wrinkled his nose and tried to hide his disgust.

  ‘Welcome to Sierramar. I’m Alfredo Vargas. I’m so glad you are here.’

  ‘Thank you. That’s a hell of a landing. I’ll need clean shorts.’

  ‘Oh, yes, I should have warned you,’ replied Alfredo, who was not impressed by this smelly New Yorker. He was tempted to tell him that a shower would be a good idea, too, but he realised that personal hygiene often went by the wayside when people got obsessed. His own had improved from necessity after he met Gloria who was fanatical about that sort of thing. So, he gave Saul the benefit of the doubt and wound down the windows in the car for the journey home.

  It was a bright windy day in Calderon and the traffic had not yet built up enough to block the roads. They drove through the modern part of town which seemed to impress Saul.

  ‘I thought that Calderon would be full of colonial streets with tiled roofs and stone roadways.’

  ‘Oh, it has them, too. I live in the modern part of town. The old town is to the south. We can go and have a look at it one day if you want. They have lots of beautiful churches, covered in gold leaf.’

  ‘Oh, I’m not one for churches, you know. I prefer libraries.’

  ‘We have those, too.’

  ‘Don’t worry, I wasn’t expecting naked Indians with loin cloths.’

  ‘That’s a relief.’

  They were soon pulling into the garage at the side of Alfredo’s house and pushing through the kitchen door with Saul’s luggage. A door slammed.

  ‘I didn’t realise that you were married,’ said Saul.

  ‘I’m not,’ said Alfredo, ‘and the maid already went home.’ He ran through the hall and out of the back door which was swinging open. The figure of a slim man slipped through the back garden and jumped over the hedge. There was no hope of catching him. Alfredo turned to go back into the house and stopped in horror. On the grass to his left lay the body of his dog, surrounded by dark oily fluid which was seeping into the earth. His throat had been cut and the gaping hole was already attracting ants. He gasped and turned away. These people were dangerous. He struggled to control his emotions. Saul came to the door.

  ‘Did you see who it was?’ he asked.

  ‘I didn’t, although I think I recognise him from the library. I’ve a pretty good idea what he wanted.’

  Saul was staring in horror at the damp body on the grass.

  ‘Oh my God, he killed your dog. I’m so sorry. You must be devastated.’

  ‘It was a nasty death, poor thing, but he didn’t like me unless I was eating. He wasn’t much of a dog, more of a food disposal unit.’

  ‘Still, it’s a bit of a shock. The bastard!’

  ‘There’s nothing we can do now. Leave the body here. I’ll deal with it later. Shall we go in?’

  The two men walked back inside the house trying not to smell the metallic odour that permeated the garden. Alfredo opened the door to the sitting room and they went in. There were papers all over the room, some had been moved but the room was pretty much as he had left it. He guessed that they had disturbed the thief just after he had started looking.

  ‘Oh no, he’s trashed the place,’ said Saul, ‘do you think he found the report?’

  ‘I doubt it, my study always looks this way,’ said Alfredo, ‘even I can’t find anything, so I doubt he did.’

  ‘I do apologise. If it’s any consolation, my office also looks like a bomb site.’

  Alfredo guffawed but he was worried. Someone had seen him visit Ramon. But who? Whoever it was suspected that he had the report on the Nazis in Sierramar and had sent Kleber to steal it. Or Kleber had been spying on him. Whatever the explanation, it was obvious that someone was concerned about the possibility that any information from Ramon’s report might get released. He was relieved that he had got into the habit of always taking the copy he had made with him in the poacher’s pocket of his jacket. He patted it for reassurance.

  ‘I know he didn’t find the document because I’ve got it right here. We can discuss the latest events with a cup of coffee. Let me show you your room and so on.’

  ‘Yes, that would be great. Do you think that I might take a shower? I’m desperate to take off these dirty clothes.’

  ‘Of course, go straight up the stairs and it’s on the right. I’ll put a towel on your bed for you. See you in a minute.’

  While Saul was in the shower, Alfredo put the kettle on and laid the table. He took food out of the fridge and started to slice some bread. Then he remembered that he had not left a towel for his guest. Grabbing one from the linen cupboard he dashed up the stairs and into the guest bedroom. He hung the towel on the hook on the outside of the bathroom door and turned to leave. Saul’s clothes were lying on the floor in a heap. His suitcase was open and most of the contents had also found their way to the floor. There was a large pistol in the middle of the bed. It looked so incongruous that he was quite shocked. He didn’t have time to examine it as he heard the water in the shower stop flowing as it was shut off.

  ‘Your towel is hanging on the door,’ he shouted as he left the room.

  ***

  Kleber pushed open the door of the men’s toilet with his elbows and went straight to the basins. To his disgust, there was no soap in the dispensers. He turned on the hot tap with his fingertips and put his hands into the flow of water. Gasping, he withdrew them again. Bloodied water dripped into the sink and swirled down the plug hole. Another man, who came out of one of the cubicles, took one look at the stain in the sink and made a swift exit. Kleber turned on the cold tap as well and, more cautiously this time, inserted his fingers into the stream. The blood was dry and difficult to remove from beneath his fingernails. He retched as he remembered how difficult it was to slit the throat through the fur with the dog wriggling and wagging its tail. At least people had the good grace to scream or faint.

  He drove his moped to the steps of the ministry and waited for Holger Ponce to emerge. The minister was very bad tempered and he dreaded telling him that he had not found the report. Kleber spotted him labouring down the stairs on the far side of the building. He gunned the engine and drove over to intercept him.

  ‘Did you get it?’ said Ponce

  ‘No sir, I couldn’t see it anywhere. The place is trashed. Anyway, I was disturbed.’

  ‘Disturbed. Is that why there is blood on your sleeve?’

  ‘I had to kill the dog. It wouldn’t stop barking.’

  ‘Did you leave the body where he would find it? We need to scare him off.’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘So, we still don’t know whether he has the document or not.’

  ‘No, but…’

  ‘But what?’

  ‘He collected an American visitor from the airport. I saw the name on a piece of paper. It said ‘Saul Rosen, Simon Wiesanthal Centre. Collect at airport’ and it had today’s date.’

  ‘Simon Wiesanthal Centre? He sounds like a Nazi hunter. He may be trouble. Shit. I’ll have to warn Kurt. Thank you, Kleber. Keep an eye on Dr Vargas and his friend.’

  ***

  Saul Rosen looked ten years younger after his shower. He had changed into a pair of corduroy trousers and a checked shirt, and his face was clean shaven, taking years off his age. He didn’t seem sure where to place his limbs when he sat down at the kitchen table. His gangly legs had a life of their own. Finally, he managed to fold them underneath it and gazed at the spread in admiration. Alfredo had made a big pot of tea and raided the bread bin for some muffins and rolls. A plate of cheese and ham sat in the middle of the table and a bowl of fresh figs from the garden completed
the feast.

  ‘Wow. You are quite the caterer,’ said Saul.

  ‘I eat well. I made coffee but there’s tea if you prefer.’

  ‘Coffee is fine, thanks. So, where are we with this thing? I need to talk to your friend Ramon as soon as possible.’

  Alfredo blanched. ‘Ramon? Oh, crap! I haven’t told you. Ramon is dead. He died in a fire in his house along with his books and research.’

  ‘Dead? When? How?’

  ‘The police say it was arson. They found two bodies in his house but they haven’t confirmed that one of them was Ramon yet. They are being secretive. Mind you it was a couple of days ago, and they aren’t the quickest.’

  ‘That’s terrible news. I’m sorry. You must be devastated. Do you think it might be related to his research?’

  ‘I’m pretty sure that it must have been. I’m sorry. I should have told you right away. I’ve been upset and distracted. You shouldn’t have come. It could be dangerous to carry on with this.’

  ‘Are you kidding me? This could be the biggest scoop of my career. Your friend did not die in vain. We are going to chase down those sons of bitches and make them pay.’

  Saul Rosen was standing now, his arm stretched out as if he was shooting at someone. Alfredo was a bit startled at the metamorphosis and thought of the gun lying on the bed. Mild mannered journalist Saul Rosen had an alter-ego hidden under his clothes.

  ‘Okay, you need to calm down a bit. I couldn’t help noticing the gun in your room. I’m afraid you can’t take that around with you. The police will put you in prison if they find it.’

  ‘You weren’t supposed to see it. I wasn’t planning on using it, you know. I heard that Sierramar was dangerous.’

  Alfredo was not convinced by this explanation but he didn’t want to start off on the wrong foot. He decided to broach the subject again on another occasion.

  ‘The one positive in this situation is that Ramon gave me his report to read so it survived the fire,’ he said. ‘I have hidden the report where they won’t ever think of looking and made a copy which I have here if you want to read it.’

  ‘I’m a little tired right now but I’d love to read it later. Can you give me some more details on the contents? I want to know what we are up against.’

  ‘Of course, more coffee? Or would you prefer a whisky?’

  ‘Have you got a bourbon?’

  ‘Jack Daniels?’

  ‘Perfect. On the rocks, please.’

  ‘Let’s move to the study. The chairs are more comfortable.’

  They crossed the hall into the study.

  ‘Can I have the corner chair, please?’ asked Saul. A haunted look flashed across his face and was gone. The leather armchairs were identical but the corner chair was Alfredo’s favourite. He was about to demure but he caught the look on Saul’s face and decided that he didn’t care where he sat. He gestured at it. His guest sat down and the tension flowed out of his body as fast as it had appeared.

  Once they had settled into the leather armchairs, Alfredo gathered himself.

  ‘As a patriot,’ he said, ‘this has been a painful revelation for me. I had no idea that Nazis had penetrated so far into Sierramar society. Of course, I was aware that the intervention of the United States on the side of Peru in the conflict of 1941 had caused a marked antipathy against the allies and in turn, a sympathy for the Axis countries. However, the details of that era had passed me by. I was always more interested in the Inca and pre-Inca cultures. It has been an immense shock to realise that the government legislated against the Jewish population during the war. They had been arriving since the 18th century to set up businesses in Sierramar. Did you know that people organised protests against the Jews in Calderon and Guayama?’

  ‘I hadn’t come across this information in my research,’ said Saul. ‘I don’t find it that surprising in the circumstances. It was happening in many countries.’

  ‘But you, of all people, must be horrified by this?’

  ‘Of all people, do you mean as a Jew?’

  ‘Well, yes, I hope I don’t upset you but I did notice your surname and make an assumption about your origin.’

  ‘No offence taken. I am not a real Jew, only a historical offshoot.’

  Alfredo was not sure he believed this either but there wasn’t time for discussion of Saul’s origins.

  ‘Good, where was I? Oh yes, as you may know, there is a long history of contact, both cultural and trade related, between Germany and Sierramar. In the run-up to the second world war this relationship became ever more important. A trade deal was signed whereby Sierramar sent raw materials to Germany and received manufactured goods in return without the need for money. Ramon saw a copy of a letter in the archives and included it in the report. It was signed by Hitler and sent to the Sierramar government in 1937 offering close cooperation with Sierramar. This arrangement carried on throughout most of the war. In 1945 the government of Sierramar received a request for assistance from the German government for refugees from the Third Reich who were fleeing prosecution by the Allies.’

  ‘Which they agreed to provide?’

  ‘Yes, in the full knowledge of whom they were accepting, the government arranged for a boat to sail from Hamburg with a cargo of fugitive Gestapo and SS officers. This boat docked in Guayama and the passengers were welcomed by the consul and cheering crowds of local people. Many of them were war criminals being hunted by the Allies, including people who had worked at Auschwitz and Buchenwald doing experiments on Jews and other nationalities and murdering them in gas chambers.’

  ‘That’s appalling. I had no idea the collaboration went that far. No wonder Ramon was murdered. There must be many people in Sierramar who took part in this and are still alive. They have to be desperate to keep this a secret. We need to act fast.’

  ‘I hoped that you would take the report back to New York with you and publish it posthumously for Ramon.’

  ‘I would be delighted, but we can’t stop there. I have the names of several members of the Gestapo who disappeared at the end of the war. I have been searching for a trace of them for months and I discovered that they may have been hiding in Sierramar. I guess they came on the boat from Hamburg. We have to find these bastards and get some proof of their existence. Will you help me?’

  ‘Of course I will. The pride of Sierramar is at stake.’

  ‘Where do we start?’

  ‘First you need a good night’s sleep.’

  CHAPTER 9

  September 1988

  As soon as they got back to the apartment, Gloria searched for the piece of paper with the Klein sisters’ number on it. This was no easy task. She had an address book, which had been given to her by Sam, but she hadn’t written any numbers in it, she stuck bits of paper in between the pages. She told Sam that she didn’t want to ruin it by crossing out addresses when people moved but this explanation was taken with a large pinch of salt. By laying the bits of paper out on the table and ironing them one by one, they came across the one they were looking for.

  ‘Here it is,’ said Gloria, ‘not so difficult to find.’

  ‘Define difficult,’ said Sam, planning on finding an afternoon when Gloria was out to transfer the addresses into the book.

  Gloria shrugged and picked up the telephone to dial the number. It rang several times before anyone answered.

  ‘Good morning. Who’s speaking?’

  ‘Good morning. It’s Gloria here, Gloria Sanchez. Is that Heidi?’

  ‘Gloria! Heavens, it’s been a long time since we heard from you.’

  ‘Yes, likewise. I have a friend from Europe staying with me and I thought it would be nice for her to meet you both. Some of her relatives settled here in the 1940’s and she thought you might know them.’

  ‘I doubt it. There are lots of Germans in Ecuador. We don’t know them all. Besides, we are pretty busy, you know.’

  Gloria ignored her. ‘Well, in that case we’ll pop in for coffee tomorrow. Does eleven o’ clock
suit you?’

  ‘Can you make it the next day? We’re busy tomorrow.’

  ‘Great. See you then.’

  Heidi’s tone was grudging but there were not many families powerful or foolish enough to turn down a request from the daughter of Hernan Sanchez. Gloria smiled.

  ‘They are a bit eccentric,’ said Gloria, ‘so don’t expect a lot of small talk.’

  ‘That’s okay. I don’t think this situation calls for much chit-chat,’ replied Sam who was subdued after Gloria’s revelation about her aborted pregnancy and although desperate for her advice about Simon, wasn’t sure how to approach the subject again without upsetting them both. ‘What shall we do today?’

  ‘There is another name on the list that rings a bell,’ said Gloria. ‘The record shows that Henrik Stern came here in 1939. I’m pretty sure that he used to live around here with his wife. He was a bit of a recluse and he died a few years ago, but I think his widow stayed in the apartment. I’ll send the maid to the building to see if the guard knows them.’

  The maid was dispatched and returned to say that Gerda Stern still lived in apartment 4B with her two sausage dogs.

  ‘No time like the present,’ said Gloria. ‘Come on Sam, we’re going to drop in for a visit.’

  ‘1939 sounds a bit early for a Nazi to come here. They are more likely to be fugitives from the pogroms this early in the war.’

  ‘I need to find Alfredo. This lady might be able to help. She’s German and should know the others. What have we got to lose?’

  ‘Not all Germans were Nazis, you know. I suppose it’s worth a try but I think we should try and find out first.’

  They soon completed the short walk to the Steins’ apartment building and asked the security guard to buzz them up. He recognised Gloria and did not bother to ask for permission from the maid. Going up in the lift, Sam was nervous and wondered what they were going to say. Gloria was humming and fiddling with her hair. They stood outside the door. Gloria knocked. There was the sound of shuffling feet and the door opened. Inside was a shrunken old lady in clothes that looked far too big for her.