The Caves of Etretat: Part One of Four

by Matt Chatelain

  Jacques' expression softened until he nodded in agreement, hesitantly at first, then firmly, his brother joining him.

  "Well said, my boy," stated Briar. "I will support you one hundred percent in this. Discretion is called for, extreme discretion. There is more here than meets the eye. The fewer who know about it the better."

  "That's not all," Coulter added. "Leblanc's journal leaves almost as many questions as it answers."

  On the laptop screen, O'Flanahan was nodding his head vigorously in agreement with Coulter.

  "My first question would be: what trap did he set for Hitler?" I wondered aloud.

  Mrs Leblanc, looking slightly more composed, added her own question, "I'm wondering if we might head inside for a short rest? This afternoon has simply been too emotional."

  Everyone agreed. I suspected we were all equally drained.

  ***

  A few hours later, I was sitting in my room. The short rest had done me a world of good. Raymonde had gone out to run a few errands for her mother. I did not have any such tasks, so I was free to reflect on Leblanc's journal. It was so sad the way things had turned out for him. Here was a man who had solved the most amazing historical mystery of his time and then found himself in the fight of his life, literally forced to contend with the direct and horrific attention of the most dangerous man in the twentieth century.

  Despite all that, Leblanc's revelations were nothing less than astounding.

  He had found the caves hidden within the Aval cliff and he had discovered treasure. He also alluded to knowledge buried in their depths. In the fight against a lurking Hitler, Leblanc had committed himself to protecting the caves at any cost. Apparently, most of the town had been involved, although only a few had known about the caves specifically.

  A beeping sound from my laptop drew my attention. Three windows popped up on the screen, displaying my friends. Behind Coulter, I saw discarded cups of coffee and a few pizza boxes. Behind O'Flanahan was the usual mess of his office. Briar seemed to be outside. There was a building in the background but I couldn't make it out. No matter where they were, these guys had been reviewing the journal non-stop since they had signed off this afternoon. Now they were coming to me with their conclusions. I had to admit I welcomed their call.

  "Ah, my boy, there you are. Thank God, Coulter understands all this techno-wizardry. Being far away like this is quite limiting, you know. I am becoming somewhat frustrated with it," Briar explained. "I assume you have been thinking about the journal?"

  "I've been thinking of nothing else. Its revelations seem to fly in the face of history. We now have to accept Hitler came back to Etretat several times, with murder and theft on his mind, although, in the end, he failed to gain his objective. Leblanc even claims Hitler was wounded,"

  "I knew that you would wonder about that, because, frankly, that is what I thought. Like minds and all that. Anyway, we've come up with a theory," Briar responded.

  "Go on, I'm listening,"

  "If Leblanc's journal is accurate, its facts would inevitably have to fit with what we know of Hitler's life. This may actually be the case. For example, we can confirm the specific encounters related in the journal fit quite nicely with Hitler's life during the First World War. Hitler volunteered repeatedly to be a courier, delivering important messages to German outposts, deep within France. On certain missions, he travelled within thirty kilometres of Etretat. Better yet, Hitler was wounded during World War 1, an injury that won him a prestigious award. Perhaps, the true reason for the injury was not what the world was led to believe."

  Coulter interrupted Briar, eager to add his piece. "And, thanks to Leblanc, we now know there was another man with Hitler in Etretat, a trained assassin. Did he become a convenient witness, explaining away Hitler's mysterious wound? Were other witnesses coerced into supporting Hitler's altered version?"

  "So, you're implying Hitler used his official missions as a cover, during which he returned to Etretat. That begs the question: If Hitler was willing to join the army in order to sneak back into Etretat, what else would he be willing to do following that failure?" I replied.

  "Are you asking if Hitler would have been so treacherous as to lead an entire country astray to conquer Etretat, as Leblanc attests in his journal?" Briar retorted.

  "Yes, that is exactly what I am asking. I am beginning to think Hitler's entire life, ever since he entered into those caves, was devoted to returning there, to the exclusion of all else, a true obsession. The only thing I can't understand is why he never went there later, when he so obviously could have. His army took Etretat over in 1940. Yet, history is clear on one particular point: Hitler never returned there. He died, in a Berlin bunker in 1945. So why didn't Hitler escape to those caves if that was his goal in the first place?"

  "I think I have an answer to that particular question," affirmed O'Flanahan. "Have any of you ever heard of Maximillian Bauer?" he asked innocently.

  "I hope this isn't another conspiracy theory," flatly objected Briar.

  Instead of looking flustered, O'Flanahan looked smug. "In the world of conspiracies, my friends, some are so far-fetched they barely register on the scale. Others are supported by mountains of facts. However, there are a few placed in a very special pile. If you were to look in that pile, every conspiracy confronting you would sound preposterous on the surface but the more you thought about it, the more you would realize only your perspective prevented it from being true. Well, the top story in that pile would be the strange case of Maximillian Bauer. So I repeat to you: have any of you heard of him?"

  None of us had. O'Flanahan explained what he knew, "In the month of February1939, a small book was published by the Macaulay Press, a New York printing company, which bore the title: 'The Strange Death of Adolf Hitler'. The author remained anonymous, afraid of persecution. He claimed to have been entrusted this document by Maximillian Bauer. Following a dangerous and circuitous route, our Mr Anonymous escaped from Germany and found his way to the United States. He translated the document into English and submitted it for publication. Of course, it didn't matter to the editors whether the story was true or not, just so long as it caused a furor," O'Flanahan said, "And a furor it did cause, of that there can be no doubt."

  "Stop beating around the bush, O'Flanahan and tell us about it, for Pete's sake," ranted Coulter.

  "I'm getting to it, just calm down. Maximillian Bauer was born with the unlucky fate of looking exactly like Adolf Hitler. Better yet, he could talk like Hitler. He had his Voice!"

  "Are you telling us this guy was Hitler's exact double?" asked Coulter.

  "Now you're getting it. To the public, the two were one and the same. However, if we are to believe the book, behind the scenes, all was not well. Because of his special position, Bauer was uniquely placed to observe the events leading up to the Second World War. He witnessed the in-fighting between Hitler's henchmen, Boormann, Von Arnheim, Goebbels and the others. There were many conspiracies to unseat Hitler. There was a third problem. Hitler himself was sick. He was becoming more paranoid, seeing danger everywhere. He was probably right. As time went on, Bauer did most of the public appearances and speeches, with Hitler directing behind the scenes. Now, you must remember this book was published in 1939 and had been smuggled out of Germany before the war had even begun. Every small detail noted in his book has been verified by independent investigations over the years. The conveniently anonymous author had to have been present to know what happened in those private chambers. The secret love affairs, the illegal activities, it's all there. Were it not for those little details, this book would not be credible. With them, it becomes very, very plausible."

  "Well, it is known Hitler had doubles. That is no big secret," scoffed Briar.

  "True, but the big secret revealed in the book, is Hitler, the real Hitler, died before 1939, from a combination of ill health and poison. It was his double who carried on and finished the war. It was his double who died in the bunker."

  "Wh
at happened to the author?" asked Briar.

  "The author disappeared in December 1938, just before the first publication of the book. He was never heard from again, not even claiming a penny of his royalties. A year and a half later, Etretat was invaded by the Nazis," O'Flanahan clarified.

  "What if the author was a complete fake?" I asked, getting the attention of all three. "What if the reason he was 'anonymous' was that his own background would not hold up to scrutiny? If the author was Hitler's henchman, this Weissmuller perhaps, then the whole Bauer story could be a plant. Maximilian Bauer took Hitler's place, allowing him to vanish into the caves without anyone noticing. Of course, we still don't understand why Hitler was so fascinated by the caves."

  "As was Leblanc, let us not forget," added Briar.

  "Yes, exactly like Leblanc, in fact. Obsessed with the caves. So much so Hitler came up with a complex plan to subjugate an entire country in order to regain his objective! Let's assume the book about Bauer was part of that plan, seeded with half-truths to 'prove' Hitler had died. Such a false conclusion would end any burgeoning investigation into Hitler's whereabouts, further protecting the caves. Once Etretat was invaded, with Weissmuller in charge, Hitler had no further interest in remaining in Germany. The minute the caves were ready, he abandoned Germany, leaving his double behind."

  "Well, I'm glad someone has figured out why I thought it was important to talk about that book," asserted O'Flanahan.

  "You were right to bring it to our attention. If anything, it strengthens our version of the facts. After the beginning of World War Two, Hitler's behaviour was the opposite of what you would expect of a leader. Instead of making more appearances everywhere, he reduced the number of public speeches. He never changed his appearance, always presenting the exact same look. This all supports the idea of a double, repeating what he had been taught. Perhaps, in the end, Germany failed because Hitler was no longer it its helm, replaced by an imitator, skilled only in deception. It would have become a fatal weakness for the Nazi regime."

  "We may have much more to thank Maurice Leblanc for than we imagined at first. Perhaps his trap succeeded, leaving a Nazi War machine decapitated when it was at the height of its power. Bauer tried to keep it going but ultimately failed, being a mimic rather than the military genius Hitler was," said Briar.

  "It also implies something else," added O'Flanahan. "If that book was published before the Second World War, then its author had to be aware of the plan to invade Etretat. Publishing the book was a premeditated act, anticipating the act of invasion. Hitler and the author were in cahoots with each other. It had to be Weissmuller."

  Trust O'Flanahan to come up with something that twisty.

  I was overwhelmed yet again at how this kept evolving into something unexpected. I was reminded of Leblanc's final comment in his journal:

  'I have felt a great purpose, controlling my decisions and directing my every move. This much I know: I have prepared the way for another.'

  Something deeper was going on, something hidden. Both men, Leblanc and Hitler had been changed forever by their encounter with the caves. Something had polarized these two men, setting into motion a string of events, which had led directly to my presence here, a full century later.

  If we were going to find our answers, there was only one place for us to look. "Gentlemen, I think it's time to think about going into the caves!"

  ***

  After disconnecting with my friends, before Raymonde returned, I decided to do some advance scouting by returning to the Aval cliff. Arriving at the golf club parking, I got out of my car and headed down the path, putting on my glasses and switching them on. A moment later, Coulter signed on. "Hey, Paul. Where are you now?"

  "I'm on top of the cliff near the bunker," I turned my head in its direction as I walked nearer. "Where are the other guys?"

  "O'Flanahan's off hunting something. He was mumbling when he signed off so I missed most of it. I don't know where Briar is. I haven't seen him in a while but he's been busy doing research. He sure has come up with the goods on a pile of stuff," Coulter said, drinking from a thermos cup and sitting back in his chair.

  "You're telling me. I'm glad I brought him in on this. He has a lot of resources," I replied.

  "What is it between him and O'Flanahan?"

  "Beats me. However, let's admit it, O'Flanahan can be irritating at the best of times."

  "You got that right," Coulter laughed. "Why did you ask him along if he's so irritating?"

  I walked into the bunker. Finding nothing new, I went back outside.

  "I know he's quirky but I can't help that. From the first day I met him, I knew I could trust him. No matter his antics, this guy will be there when you need him. Besides, he really is in his element with all these Hitler conspiracies. What do you think of him?"

  "Oh, you know I'm easy going. Both guys have different viewpoints and that has to be a good thing. I'm just along for the ride," he broke off, laughing a bit more. "But seriously, you have to be careful. You don't just have yourself to think of anymore. There's Raymonde and her mom, and the Vallin brothers. These people are all counting on you."

  "Come on, give me a break. I've only been in France a few days. I'm doing my best to catch up."

  "I know. You've done pretty well, if you ask me, except last night when you forgot to take the safety off your gun. I thought you were a goner."

  I smiled at the memory but there was a serious edge to his comment. I was learning but would it be fast enough? I couldn't always be lucky. Reaching the edge of the cliff, I looked down, seeing the Needle below, waves crashing all around.

  "Wow! Look at that. Man, that's a sight. What are you doing up here anyway?"

  "I've been thinking about the way to get into those caves. If what we've learnt is true, that bunker is right over the Frefosse dungeon entrance into those caves. We've also surmised an ancient entrance once existed at a level from more than two thousand years ago."

  "I get it. You think we have to go underwater to find our way in."

  "Yes. I want you to check into it. Find out what equipment we might need and who's got it. Use my account, make a deal and get it here fast. Along with that, let's try to pin down some data to back up this approach, just to make absolutely sure."

  "You seem pretty committed already."

  "Let me just say I've had a hunch."

  And a dream!

  "Why don't you just stop right where you are, Sirenne. I've got a gun!"

  I froze. Coulter began talking at a rapid-fire pace in my ear, "Is that Norton? It is, isn't it? Oh, man, this is bad. What are we going to do? What are you going to do? Wait, wait, I've got it. I'm on it. I'm calling Raymonde right now. NO! I'm calling the Vallin Brothers. They're closer and meaner."

  "Norton! What a surprise. How's your foot?" I spoke up, saying anything to keep the dangerous man off balance.

  "It's still ringing at the Vallin. WAIT, someone's picking up," Coulter's voice faded off.

  "It hurts, what do you think? You almost broke it, you cretin. I should kill you right here, Sirenne, you bother me so much. But I'm not going to, not now, not yet. Because I want some answers, damn it. Now turn around slow and easy. Don't make any sudden moves."

  His pistol was a small stubby thing, probably a back up. I had forgotten to search his car. Another mistake! Norton held the pistol low, so as not to attract attention from the few tourists in the distance. I had a plan but I had to get it right.

  I had brought my pistol too.

  Unfortunately, it was behind my back, stuck in my pants, underneath my jacket, the exact spot where Norton was looking. I turned my body slowly. At the same time, I frantically slid my hand inside my jacket. With incredible relief, I felt my palm grasp the pistol.

  "Keep your hands in view," Norton warned.

  I slid my hand back, pulling the pistol out of my pants without a hitch, flipping the safety catch at the same time. It was now or never. In a single gesture, I jerked my gun o
ut, aiming it directly at Norton's head, catching him completely unaware. Surprised, he froze for a moment, allowing me to take several steps, narrowing the distance between us.

  "The Vallins are on the way. Five minutes tops and they'll be here. Hey, you've got a gun! Why didn't you say that?" Coulter stammered. "Wait a minute, don't get closer to the guy."

  "Shut up and get me a map of this place," I whispered.

  "What?"

  "Find me a way out of here. Get me a MAP."

  His face brightened. "Ohh, I got it. One 3D map of the cliff coming up - it'll take a few secs, sorry."

  Norton was stuck in an awkward position, with his arm down, his gun held at waist height. He had put his shoes back on and was using a branch as a cane. He spoke angrily, "I keep underestimating you. So you've got a pistol on me and I've got a pistol on you. Big deal."

  My plan was to do something he could not. I was going to run! Unfortunately, in order to do this, I had to get closer because I was on a projection of the cliff and he was blocking my way.

  Norton continued talking as I kept walking, my left arm held out stiffly, holding the pistol aimed right at his face. The few tourists in the distance hadn't noticed anything yet but it was just a matter of time. "We might shoot each other but I want some answers from you and I am going to get them, no matter what."

  "What questions?" I retorted, stalling.

  "What does H.N. mean? Answer that, for starters," he screamed.

  "Don't you know?" I shot back.

  "God damn it, stop it with these games. It's always games, all the time. Just tell me, I beg you," his face contorted, looking ready to cry for a moment, then flashing into a twisted rage, then back to tears.

  "That guy is not stable," Coulter whispered, checking his watch. "Three more minutes and the Vallin brothers will be there. Just hold on, you're doing great so far. That was fast thinking with the gun. Can't believe you did that. Here's the 3D map you asked for."

  I scanned it rapidly, orienting myself. I immediately found what I had seen before: a way down those precipitous cliffs! It was on my right about thirty yards away, the second dip in the cliff past the Needle. Unlike the first dip, the second one didn't stop, going all the way down to a disused metal staircase. Norton spoke again, his voice going up and down in volume. He was losing it.