Hitler's Finger Page 8

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Hello, Mrs Stern, it’s Gloria Sanchez, and this is Sam Harris. We are doing some research about German immigration to Sierramar. Do you mind if we come in?’

  Mrs. Stern hesitated. It seemed to Sam that she looked panicked but Gloria did not wait for an answer. She strode into the gloomy apartment and made herself at home in the sitting room.

  ‘I’m not sure I can help you,’ quavered Mrs Stern. ‘What do you want to know?’

  ‘We are looking for Sam’s maternal grandmother. We think she arrived in Sierramar after the end of the war in Europe. She may have been travelling with her brother, a Dr Kurt Becker. A group of Germans came with him by boat to Guayama. I wondered if your husband was one of them?’

  ‘By boat? No, he wasn’t. He didn’t have anything to do with them.’

  ‘But he was German? Didn’t you socialise with them?’

  Mrs. Stern had a funny look on her face, a mixture of fury and misery.

  ‘No, we didn’t. I think it’s time you left now. I don’t have any information for you,’ she blurted out.

  ‘But it seems so unlikely that you didn’t know any of them.’

  ‘You don’t know what you are talking about.’

  ‘Gloria, I think Mrs Stern has already given us her answer.’

  ‘Please, Mrs. Stern. The truth is that we are looking for someone who has disappeared, my fiancé. We are certain that his disappearance is related to this group of people. Are you sure you can’t help us?’

  Perhaps it was the doubt in her voice which triggered the reaction from Mrs. Stern.

  ‘Get out of my house. Get out. How dare you come here asking questions about my husband. You don’t know anything about us.’

  She stood up puce with fury. Gloria had no choice but to make for the door. Sam tried to apologise. ‘I’m so sorry to have upset you. Gloria’s boyfriend has disappeared on a trip to try and bring them to justice and she is worried. We didn’t mean to insinuate that your husband could be involved. Please forgive us.’

  But the little woman pointed to the door and didn’t seem capable of speech. The two friends took the elevator down to the ground floor without speaking.

  ‘That was awful,’ said Gloria. ‘Why was she so angry?’

  Sam had not been in favour of visiting Mrs. Stern without any background and she was cross with Gloria for barging in to see her. There was only one reason she could think of for the Sterns to avoid other Germans.

  ‘That’s why I didn’t want to go. The date of their arrival suggests that they must have been Jewish refugees. No wonder Mrs Stern was hysterical, we should never have gone to see her without checking,’ said Sam.

  They walked back to the apartment and had a subdued lunch. Gloria was quiet. Sam was not in the mood to make her feel better. The misery of Mrs Stern hung over them like a dark mist.

  CHAPTER 10

  August 1988

  The next morning the two men breakfasted early.

  ‘I am pretty sure,’ said Alfredo, munching on his toast, ‘that none of the passengers who landed on the boat from Germany will have been using their real names. Do you have any information about the new identities they were using?’

  ‘As it happens, I discovered that one of the officers changed his name to Rolf Hermann.’

  ‘Rolf Hermann? Wow! I went to school with his sons. We used to play football at their hacienda.’

  Saul shook his head and sighed. ‘Hidden in plain sight. I guess that no one here cared who they were. The war was far away from Sierramar. Are they still living there?’

  ‘They make cheese, and have done for many years. We had some of it yesterday for supper. I don’t know if Hermann’s still running it but I think that the family still own the farm.’

  ‘Is it far away?’

  ‘About an hour’s drive. We can go there today if you like. We need a convincing story though, if we’re going to ask questions about his past.’

  ‘Say that I'm a tourist looking for some lost cousins.’

  ‘We’ll need to change your name.’

  ‘Yes, that’s a given. How about Frank Hermann?’

  ‘No, it must be the original surname to make sense. What was it?’

  ‘Kaufmann. His name was Helmut Kaufmann. He was a lieutenant in the Gestapo.’

  ‘Perfect. Frank Kaufmann it is then. Okay, so get sorted out and we’ll set off in about ten minutes. Bring your camera. You need to look as if you’re a gringo tourist.’

  ***

  The road to the hacienda was the typical mix of potholes and cobblestones, throwing the two men from side to side in the ancient jeep. They drove past damp hillsides with a myriad of tiny fields in many shades of green as if verdant quilts had been laid over sleeping giants. Scruffy black pigs with ears that flopped over their eyes snuffled in the mud beside the road giving them the appearance of shy teenagers hiding behind their fringes. In the fields, sheep with long coats bleated as the car passed by, hoping for some feed. The air was so moist that drops of condensation hung from their coats.

  ‘Wow, that’s some pretty countryside you’ve got there,’ said Saul. ‘Reminds me of Ireland.’

  Alfredo had underestimated the distance and the state of the road and they didn’t pull up to the farmhouse until midday. The cobbled farmyard was deserted except for two large Alsatian dogs who growled menacingly when Alfredo tried to get out of the car.

  ‘Hmm, this is a bit tricky,’ he said.

  ‘Someone will come and rescue us. It’s lunchtime.’

  They sat in the car for almost an hour. When either of them attempted to get out, one of the large dogs would throw themselves at the door barking and snarling. They would have left but Saul spotted a curtain twitching in one of the windows.

  ‘There’s someone in there,’ he said. ‘Let’s wait them out.’

  Finally, the front door opened and an old woman appeared. She clapped her hands together causing the dogs to slink off behind the farmhouse. The two men got down from the jeep and walked over to the door.

  ‘Good morning, madam, we are looking for Rolf Hermann. Is this the right place?’

  ‘Oh, it’s the right place but you’re too late. Rolf died two years ago, of a heart attack.’

  ‘I’m sorry to hear that. My condolences.’

  ‘He was a pig. Why did you want him?’

  ‘My name is Frank Kaufmann. I thought he might be a relative of mine.’

  ‘And what made you think that?’

  ‘My mother told me that he was her husband’s cousin.’

  ‘She was mistaken. My husband did not have any cousins. His father was an only child.’

  She indicated that they should leave.

  ‘Was your husband’s nickname Freddy?’

  Her demeanour, which had been sour and dismissive, changed as if the sun had come out from behind a cloud. A shy smile crept across her face.

  ‘Yes, that was him. Before he turned into a pig.’ She looked sad.

  ‘I’d love to see a photograph if you have one,’ said Saul in a quiet voice.

  She peered at him through eyes misty with age.

  ‘I’m sorry I didn’t answer the door earlier. I live alone and I didn’t recognise you. One never knows. I have photographs of him as a young man. Would you like to see the album?’

  They followed the old woman into a house that would have been more at home in Bavaria. Wooden floors and net curtains and solid German furniture filled the rooms.

  ‘Can I offer you gentlemen a tea?’

  ‘That would be nice. Thank you.’

  She indicated that they should proceed into the sitting room and disappeared into a kitchen behind the stairs. There was a fireplace with a couple of sofas facing each other across a solid wooden coffee table. The two men sat down on one of the sofas and waited for her to return. Both men glanced around the room for clues to the origins of the family but there were no framed photographs. It was sterile.

  Mrs Hermann cam
e in with a tray holding cups of hot water and a plate of teabags. Alfredo took one and watched in dismay as the teabag floated without brewing.

  ‘Now, Mr Kaufmann, what do you want to know about your cousin?’ she asked.

  ‘Well, I understand that he came to Sierramar at the end of the second world war. Did he come alone?’

  ‘He came with five other officers from his regiment. They were young men who wanted to start a new life after the horrors of the war. A liner brought them with about fifty other families to Guayama from where most of them moved up to Calderon.’

  ‘Do you have a photograph of him at that age? I want to see if he resembles me.’

  Mrs Hermann looked unsure. She got up and took a leather-bound album out of a bookcase but she did not offer it to Saul.

  ‘You must understand,’ she said, ‘that they were different times. These men had lost the war but they’d not lost hope of a revival of the Reich. They were determined to keep up their traditions.’

  Saul nodded and stretched out his hands to take the album. She handed it to him.

  ‘I understand. My mother has not lost hope that one day Germany will be great again. I was brought up to believe that, too. I don’t find it shocking.’

  He opened the cover and a photograph of a handsome young man in a Gestapo uniform slipped onto the floor. He picked it up, put it back in its binding and turned the pages. Alfredo looked over his shoulder controlling his breathing and pretending to have little interest. There was a photograph of six young men in Gestapo uniform posing outside a wooden building with a tin roof.

  ‘Wow, so which one is Rolf?’

  She pointed at a slim young man smoking a cigarette.

  ‘And who are the others? Is this the group that came to Sierramar? Are any of them still alive?’

  His excitement showed and she looked at him suspiciously.

  ‘I mean, they might be able to tell me more about Freddy.’

  ‘Let me see the photo. As far as I remember the fat one was called Franz Rauf. He died young of a heart attack. The two men beside him are the Schmitt brothers. The man on the right-hand side of Frank is Kurt Becker and the one on the left, I am not sure, but I think he died last year of a stroke.’

  ‘I went to school with the children of the Schmitt brothers,’ said Alfredo. ‘They were nice lads, good at football. They left in sixth grade, though. I didn’t see them again.’

  Mrs. Hermann ignored him.

  ‘What happened to the Schmitt brothers and Kurt Becker? Are they still in Sierramar?’ asked Saul.

  ‘I believe that Dr Becker retired to the mountains for his health. He was running a clinic somewhere in San Blas de Lago Verde. I’m afraid I don’t know where the Schmitt brothers are. They upped and left without a word. I don’t even know if they are still in Sierramar.’

  Saul leafed his way through the album.

  ‘That’s a nice photo. Was it taken when you arrived in Calderon?’

  ‘Yes, we had just got here. That’s us in the cow shed.’

  ‘How did you meet your husband?’

  ‘We met at a rally in Berlin. He was so handsome in his uniform. I couldn’t resist him.’

  As time went on, the photographs showed Rolf Kaufmann getting middle aged and then elderly, a nasty scowl becoming a permanent fixture on his face. Not the sort of man who could be crossed.

  The door to the sitting room opened and a young man stepped through into the light. Alfredo glanced backwards at him and did a double take. It was the boy from the library. What was his name? Kleber something? He could feel his gaze boring into the back of his head. He put his hat back on and tugged Saul’s sleeve to indicate that they should leave.

  ‘Well, we had better go Mrs Hermann. It’s been a real pleasure to meet you and to hear about Rolf,’ said Saul, who had taken the hint.

  ‘You’re leaving already? I hoped you might stay for tea.’

  ‘We need to get back to town before it gets dark. The lights on the jeep are not working.’

  ‘Okay, Kleber, can you see the gentlemen out, please?’

  ‘Yes, madam. Will you follow me?’

  Saul and Alfredo shook Mrs Hermann’s hand. Alfredo removed his hat and replaced it in one swift movement. He walked behind Saul trying to keep him between himself and Kleber. They got to the front door and started to the car. A sudden gust of wind blew Alfredo’s hat clean off. Dashing across the yard, he stood on it to stop it blowing away. As he stood up, he caught Kleber’s eye.

  ‘Dr Vargas?’ said Kleber, ‘what are you doing here?’

  ‘Kleber? I could ask you the same question. I’m following up my research on German culture with my friend Frank Kaufmann. He is a cousin of Mrs Hermann’s late husband.’

  Kleber had a look on his face that suggested a violent disgust. He was staring at Saul.

  ‘You are lying. There were no Jews in Mr Hermann’s family. You should be ashamed of yourself taking advantage of an old woman. Now get out of here and take your nasty friend with you,’ he said.

  He whistled and the dogs came running from the back of the house, barking and snarling. They went straight for the visitors, who ran to the safety of the car. They made it unscathed. The dogs were jumping up at the doors, scratching the paint. Kleber shouted from the door.

  ‘Stay away from here and stop interfering in things that you don’t understand. I’m giving you fair warning. Stop looking, or end up with your friend Ramon.’

  He spun on his heel and went back into the house. There was no sign of Mrs. Hermann who had melted back into the shadows. The two men sat panting in the car.

  ‘These people are psychos,’ said Alfredo.

  ‘Who is he?’ said Saul.

  ‘He works in the National Archives. He must be the one who followed me to Ramon’s place. I thought I recognised him in my house the other day. Look what he did to the dog. He’s a dangerous man.’

  ‘How did he know I was Jewish?’

  ‘Because you stick out like a sore thumb. Have you seen your nose? I guess Mrs Hermann must be lonely and a bit blind to be taken in by us. We should get out of here.’

  They pulled out of the yard with the dogs still barking and throwing themselves against the doors.

  ***

  Lunch was waiting for them when they got home. The maid had left a cold chicken and some salad and fresh bread out on the table covered in some clean drying up towels. Alfredo took some cold beers out of the fridge and poured a glass for them both.

  ‘That looks delicious,’ said Saul. ‘I could eat a horse.’

  ‘Half a chicken will have to do instead.’

  ‘Let’s start with that, then. Sorry for sleeping on the way home. I guess you must be busting to discuss old mother Hermann and her scary helper.’

  ‘That’s okay. Travelling always makes me weary, too. It was rather a strange morning. I can’t believe we got such great information from Mrs Hermann. That Kleber person’s someone to stay well clear of. I think he’s some sort of psychopath, setting the dogs on us for no reason. I’m pretty sure that he’s the man we saw running away from here on the day you arrived.’

  ‘What do you want to do next?’

  ‘We should travel to San Blas del Lago to try and find Dr Becker. I have a feeling that the Schmitt brothers may be in the same place. Have you got walking shoes and some wet weather gear with you?’

  ‘Yes, I came prepared for a hike or two.’

  ‘Excellent. I’ve got to go out for an hour. Can you get ready meanwhile?’

  ‘Sure.’

  ***

  Alfredo went straight to Gloria’s apartment building and rang her bell. The maid answered.

  ‘Good morning. Who’s there?’

  ‘Hello, it’s Dr Vargas. Is Miss Gloria in?’

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry Dr Vargas, she has gone shopping to the mall and I think she is having lunch with friend. I don’t know what time she will be back.’

  ‘Oh, well, please can you tell her that I’m goi
ng on a trip to the mountains with my colleague from America and that we should be back in a couple of days?’

  ‘Yes, Dr Vargas. I’ll tell her. Do you want to leave her a note?’

  ‘No, it’s not necessary, I shouldn’t be gone long. Thank you.’

  Alfredo stood outside for a while wondering if he should tell her where they were going but in the end, he left without writing a note. He was worried that the mission was getting a little more dangerous than he had anticipated and he didn’t want her getting hurt. He would never get back in her father’s good books if he put Gloria in danger. Sighing, he forced himself to go home and pack.

  CHAPTER 11

  September 1988

  The Klein sisters, Heidi and Liesel, still lived in the family home with their mother, who was bedridden with multiple sclerosis. It was built in the style of a German country house and was set back from the road down a mud driveway lined with eucalyptus trees. The outskirts of Calderon would swallow it up in its dingy concrete and zinc petticoat but meanwhile it still had a rural charm and a chocolate box prettiness which was quite alien to the Andean landscape. Despite her seatbelt, Sam was thrown around in the front of the jeep as Gloria tried to negate the huge dusty potholes by driving over them at high speed.

  The car stopped in a cloud of powder which settled on the bonnet. Sam almost fell out of the car with relief. Gloria shook herself clean and raised the eagle’s head knocker on the front door, letting it fall a couple of times. Sam felt nervous. She was not a good actress and a worse liar. Gloria should do most of the talking.

  The door opened with a loud theatrical creak and a pretty young woman with bright blonde hair stood in the sunlight.

  ‘Gloria, how nice of you to pay us a visit. And this must be your friend?’

  ‘Yes, hello, I am Sam, which one are you?’ she blurted out.

  ‘I am Liesel, and my sister Heidi is inside. Won’t you come in?’

  Gloria was already pushing past her into the hall and making her way to the sitting room in a way that suggested that this was not her first visit to the house. Sam smiled and followed them into a cold room with wooden furniture which would have looked more at home in a monastery. They had sat down when Heidi came in with a tray of coffee and a mild chaos reigned as the women got up and sat down again several times to greet the other and to serve the coffee and add milk and sugar. At last, they were settled with their coffee served.