The sunset was a watercolor blanket of fuchsia and purple. The colors remained bright and vivid until the stars filled the sky like tiny diamonds on a bed of black velvet. Shlomie leaned back to gaze up for just a moment before going underground to begin his nights’ work. He was tired and wanted to linger, laying on the cool sand, but he knew that the work must be done, the tunnel must be built.
As he lay gazing up at the sky, his back aching from the heavy shovel, from the digging, he heard a woman’s laughter. It sounded crisp and clear, like tiny bells ringing in the night. Her voice traveled all the way through him, from the top of his head to the tips of his toes. Shlomie was no longer tired. He felt a burst of energy. He was compelled to sit up and look. He had to see the woman who possessed the laughter that sounded like music.
Chapter 38
On May 14th, 1948, the British Mandate over Palestine expired. Later that day, in the Hall of Independence, Palestine was established as a Jewish state. It was then renamed Israel.
Eretz-Israel, the land of Israel
That same night, the United States recognized the state of Israel. A roaring thunder of elation came soaring out of Jewish communities worldwide. Finally, the Jews would have a homeland. This land would protect them should another dictator like Hitler (God Forbid) ever find his way to power. Unlike in the past, when the Jews had sought refuge from the Third Reich only to find every nation had closed their doors to them, they now had a place to go, a homeland. Here they could live as Jews. Openly. Unafraid. Here they would always be wanted. A prayer sent to God by a broken people had been answered.
Israel. The Promised Land.
But . . .
The Jewish struggle was not over yet . . .
Later that very same night, the Arab League, consisting of four Arab armies—Syria, Egypt, Transjordan, and Iraq—attacked and invaded Israel, threatening to annihilate the Jews.
Chapter 39
Whenever he made his trips to Brazil, Konrad Klausen made them under the guise of a visit to his coworker, Dr. Joseph Mengele. After all, Konrad’s job was to assure that the other members of the Nazi Party who had migrated to South America were comfortable. He was to see to it that their requirements were met. Konrad lived in Argentina; he’d been there since the end of the war. But, when the need to do the shameful things came upon him, he preferred to go far away from home to satisfy those wretched desires. And he found that it was most convenient in Brazil. After all, the favela was large and overflowing with poverty-stricken young men who were willing to perform any act that Konrad desired for a few coins.
He took a quick flight early one morning and then spent the afternoon with Dr. Mengele. Whenever Konrad went to Brazil, Mengele was always a wonderful host. He knew all of the important people in Brazil and was highly regarded by the ladies for his good looks. Recently Dr. Mengele had received his driver’s license, and he was proud to show Konrad his brand new car. It was a shiny, black Borgward Isabella. Konrad could not help but admire the doctor’s taste and envy his dapper good looks.
“I know a wonderful café; we’ll sit outside and enjoy the view. Would you like that?” Mengele asked. He had a charming smile and his dark hair was slicked back from his face.
“Yes, that would be very nice.” Konrad thought that he should be the one taking the doctor around, but it had turned out that Mengele didn’t need Konrad’s help to adjust to the move to South America; he had already made more friends than Konrad had ever had.
When they arrived at the café the maître d’ greeted Dr. Mengele, using the alias name that Dr. Mengele was living under. “Good afternoon, Mr. Gerhard. Follow me, please; I have your regular table open.”
“Charming little place, isn’t it?” Mengele smiled, after they were seated. “So, what would you like to eat?”
As they ate and enjoyed several glasses of wine, people passing by greeted Dr. Mengele as Wolfgang. It amazed Konrad that so many people of the higher classes had already befriended Mengele. The other Nazis were far more reclusive.
After lunch Konrad and Mengele drove back to the house where Mengele was living. When they got out of the car, all of the children who had been playing in the park across the street came running across the street to greet them.
“Hello, Uncle,” they said. “How are you, Uncle? Did you bring us candy?”
Mengele pulled a handful of hard candies from the pocket of his white linen suit and handed them out to the children. He bent down as they each gave him a hug.
“I love children, especially twins. Twins fascinate me,” Dr. Mengele said smiling. “Especially identical twins.”
Konrad had heard about Mengele’s experiments on children, especially twins and this behavior of friendship toward the children here in Brazil surprised him, but he said nothing. Konrad found Mengele to be very strange, difficult to understand.
“You know the gypsies loved me. They said I looked like one of them,” Mengele said. “Do you think so?”
“No, I think you look pure Aryan.” Konrad shifted uncomfortably, unsure of what Mengele wanted him to say.
Mengele laughed. “I did a lot of work on gypsies. Such beautiful people, they are.”
Konrad was not sure he understood this man at all, and because he didn’t, Mengele made him nervous. He’d heard about the sadistic experiments that Mengele had performed, but perhaps what he’d heard was not true.
“Come in and let me show you what I am working on,” Joseph Mengele said.
Konrad followed him inside to a makeshift lab. Here he had two small boys chained to a bed. It was obvious to Konrad that they boys were poor, probably beggars. Their skin was dark brown and their small bodies were painfully thin. In fact, it seemed as if their thighs were the size of Konrad’s wrists. Mengele had taped their mouths so they could not scream. Their terrified eyes followed Konrad around the room. He tried not to look at them.
Konrad stayed for a few more minutes while Mengele explained what he was doing with the boys. He was itching to run, to escape this strange laboratory. Mengele was explaining something about injecting the dark eyes of the two children with dyes to turn them blue. Konrad didn’t want to hear any more. The thought of needles puncturing eyes made his stomach queasy.
“It looks to me as if you are very well adjusted here,” Konrad said.
“I am, very much so. As you can see, I‘ve begun to work and experiment on creating a master race once again and that helps me to feel productive. However, in between, I still have plenty of mundane work that must be done. I must spend time removing the tattoos that the SS have under their arms. It’s necessary, of course. Just in case the men are captured. Without the tattoos there is nothing to define them as SS officers.”
“Yes, the tattoos.” Konrad couldn’t wait to leave.
“Would you like a cigar?” Mengele asked.
Konrad shook his head. “No, thank you.”
“I’ve acquired quite a fancy for Cuban cigars. Wonderful tobacco.”
Konrad nodded and took out a cigarette. Mengele flicked the corner of his gold lighter, which had his name engraved on the side in mother of pearl, and then he lit Konrad’s cigarette and his cigar. “I don’t know if you’ve heard, but I am planning to purchase a share in the Fardo Farm Pharmaceutical Company. I think it will be a good investment.”
“It should be a very good investment,” Konrad said, trying to hide how anxious he was to be on his way.
“I think so. My father came to visit and he gave me quite a bit of cash. So I’ve decided that it’s time to make an investment. Why not make that cash pay off?”
“Yes . . . I think it’s a wonderful idea.”
Mengele took a puff of the thick cigar. “Marvelous,” he said, looking at the cigar and turning it in his fingers. “You really ought to give these a try sometime. You might find you really enjoy them.”
“Perhaps I will,” Konrad said. “Well, I best be on my way. If you need anything let me know, and please stay in contact. Now, I must advise
you that should you feel that you need to leave here quickly, I can have a sea plane whisk you away within a few hours. So, if you feel you are being followed or that someone has identified you, contact me immediately.”
“That’s good to know. I will keep it in mind.”
“And I will keep in touch. I’ll let you know how the experiment is going,” Mengele said, smiling as he walked Konrad to the door.
“Good afternoon, then,” Mengele said.
“Heil Hitler.”
“Heil Hitler.”
The doctor was charming, there was no doubt about that, but there was something under the surface of this man, something that always seemed to be watching, judging. As Konrad walked back to the bus station, he felt uneasy. The faces of those children unnerved him. Although he’d never committed murder, he’d ordered it, and he’d walked away unscathed. But he’d never gotten close enough to inject the eyes of a child with a long needle filled with poisons. Something about the idea made his skin crawl. Konrad walked more quickly. He was glad when the bus arrived and took him back to his hotel. He checked in. Then he climbed two flights of stairs up to his room, took off his clothes, and lit a cigarette. He would relax until nightfall.
Konrad called the front desk and ordered a bottle of whiskey to be brought up to his room. Then he sat by the window looking out, lost in thought. No one, not even Dr. Mengele, would admit to this, but Konrad believed that Hitler was still alive and Mengele had changed his face. How strange that even though Konrad was part of the inner circle, there was still so much that he was sure remained hidden from him. He lit a cigarette and poured himself a glass of whiskey.
When he was surrounded by the other escaped Nazis he felt all right, but when he was alone, thoughts of his old friend Detrick would often haunt him. Detrick. He pictured the blond hair falling over Detrick’s left eye, his easy smile. Detrick. Konrad had loved him, loved him as a brother, as a friend, but secretly deep in his heart, Konrad had loved him as a lover. Detrick, the strong athletic boy, who in their youth had defended him when Konrad was a weak and sickly child and the other boys had tormented him. Detrick. He whispered the name aloud shaking his head, wishing everything had turned out differently.
He’d tried to make things better for Detrick and his family by getting Detrick a job working for the party, but Detrick had been a traitor. Konrad had discovered the betrayal and realized that Detrick had never really been a part of the Nazi Party. He’d been deceiving them all. Then, the worst possible thing had happened; Konrad had been forced to choose between his own well being and the life of his best friend. Konrad knew he was a coward, and his choice to protect himself had reinforced that shameful trait. And because he had betrayed his Detrick, Detrick was dead. What a fool Detrick had been; he’d been a Jew-lover, and it had cost him his life. Detrick had helped two Jews escape, the girl, Leah, who Detrick had been in love with, and her father. If Detrick had only listened to Konrad, if he’d not been so stubborn, he would have risen in the party. Detrick would have been alive, he would have been here in South America today. But he had refused to give up on those Jews.
Damn him and damn those Jews! Konrad slammed his fist on the table and the bottle of whiskey trembled, almost toppling over. Detrick had been caught and arrested at the border just as he had been about to enter Switzerland. The girl had not even been with them. It had been just Detrick and the old man. And they shot the old man just as Detrick was about to cross over into safety, but Detrick, the fool, had come running back. Konrad had heard about how Detrick had held the old man as he died. Then they’d taken Detrick to the Nazi headquarters and had beaten him to death.
After it was over, Konrad had received a phone call. He had been asked to come to the Nazi offices where Detrick’s body was being held. Konrad had hung up the phone and vomited before he’d left; but he knew he had to go, he had to follow orders. When he’d arrived, he’d seen Detrick’s battered body covered in dried blood. Konrad could not forget how his heart had raced, the guilt that had washed over him, how he had wanted to throw himself on top of his friend and weep. How strongly he’d wished that he could have changed things, altered the course of events. And for a moment, he even wished he could trade places with Detrick, because he knew that for the rest of his life he would carry the guilt. But as he stood staring at the battered body of his oldest and dearest friend, Konrad knew that if he had really had the chance he would never have traded places with Detrick. He was afraid of pain and terrified of death.
It had been almost impossible to control the trembling of Konrad’s limbs as the Nazi officer had walked in circles around him, questioning him with skepticism, making implications about his association with Detrick. The interrogation had continued throughout the night, until finally, in the morning, the SS had been satisfied that Konrad had had nothing to do with Detrick’s deceitful and disloyal acts. They’d left him alone in a cell for forty-five minutes, and then a guard had returned and released him. It was a terrible memory, but one that was never far from his thoughts.
Soon it would be dark. Konrad took a deep breath, got up, and washed his face. Then he scrubbed his hands, which were rough and cracked from the constant washings.
Konrad knew he should probably eat something, but he had no appetite, at least not for food. On these occasions, when the compulsion to find a boy came over him, he always found it hard to eat. The sun had set. For Konrad, there was comfort in the knowledge that one could become lost in the darkness.
He checked the briefcase that he would take with him. As always, he’d taken great care in putting his supplies together. There was a roll of the newly invented electrical tape that he really liked because it had proved stronger than any tape he’d used before, a sharp-edged hunting knife, and, of course, the gun.
Shaking off the disturbing thoughts that haunted him from the past, Konrad went down to the lobby of the hotel and rented a dilapidated automobile from a driver who was leaning against the side of the building waiting for a fare. Konrad gave the driver enough money to make it worth his while. In fact, it was enough to pay for the car twice over, giving the driver the reassurance that if Konrad stole his vehicle, the car could be easily replaced.
Konrad smiled to himself as he got behind the wheel. The automobile was a piece of junk. He knew that, but it was important that he make this trip alone. Konrad did not want anyone else to drive him. It was much safer for Konrad if there were no witnesses; better that nobody knew where he went or what he did on these nighttime excursions. That way, at the end of the night, his secrets would remain locked inside him forever.
Each time he came to Brazil, he did the same thing. He rented the car and went off by himself to feed his need. He made it a point to try and stay at different hotels, using a different alias each time, so that nobody became familiar with his face or knew him by his real name. Always best to remain anonymous.
The sky had turned gray and the clouds began to swirl as a bolt of lightning flashed in front of him and thunder roared. Sheets of rain came down in angles, covering his windshield and making visibility impossible. Konrad pulled over to the side of the road and parked the car, waiting for the storm to lessen. And…as he did, those damn memories of Detrick crept back into his mind.
Wasted thoughts, Konrad whispered to himself. Wasted regrets. He shook his head, watching the rain assault the streets. At first he didn’t realize it, but then he felt his cheeks were wet with tears. Why the hell did thoughts of Detrick still make him cry? He’d only done what he had to do; Detrick had left him no choice. Damn you, Detrick Haswell, damn you to hell. Only someone who you loved with all of your heart and soul could cause you such anguish. Betraying Detrick had torn out a part of his heart, a part Konrad could never fill again.
The rain let up until it was just a slight drizzle. Konrad knew exactly where he was going. The favela.
The park in the favela was more like an empty lot than an actual park. Male and female prostitutes stood on the streets beckoning. Konra
d never picked anyone up on the street. He didn’t want any evidence inside of the vehicle. Instead, he went to a stone building that housed the public restrooms. Konrad looked around to see if anyone had followed him. He was alone. Nobody of any importance would see him here. He tucked into one of the bathroom stalls. The sharp odor of urine made his eyes sting. But he waited.
The first two boys that came into the bathroom did not appeal to him. They were dark-skinned, dark-haired, and very skinny; not at all to his liking. He sat on the toilet seat looking out through the opening in the door. It was over an hour before another male entered. This one made his heart race. He had light hair and lighter skin than the other two. This was the one. Konrad came out of the stall and began to wash his hands in the sink. Then he turned and smiled at the boy, who was just finishing at a urinal. Over the last few years, Konrad had learned enough Portuguese to communicate.
“Would you like to earn some money?” Konrad asked with a half smile. His hands were cold and jittery with excitement.
The boy was young, no more than fifteen, wearing threadbare rags. He nodded to Konrad. Konrad knew that the kid needed the money, they always did. That’s why Konrad liked to come to this place. Here there were millions of these insignificant, poverty-stricken boys, boys whose lives meant nothing to anyone, boys whom the police would not bother to look for. Here, Konrad could do as he pleased.
Chapter 40
Manfred climbed out of the belly of the submarine. He felt as if he had been buried and had been suddenly unearthed. He bent over at the waist, sucking in deep breaths. Then he stood and shivered, not from the cold, for the weather was warm, but from the realization that he’d arrived in a new land, to a new life; a life that would no longer include Christa. He had been instructed before he left the ship that once he departed, he was to walk a short distance, upon which he would enter a town called San Fernando. He was told that he was now in Argentina.
The Promised Land (All My Love, Detrick Series) (All My Love Detrick Book 3) Page 15