The Promised Land (All My Love, Detrick Series) (All My Love Detrick Book 3)

by Roberta Kagan

  He began to walk, his legs weak and wobbly from his time at sea. Manfred inhaled the fresh air, so unlike the stale tomb of the boat. It was just before sunrise; he looked forward seeing daylight again. He entered the town. It was far too early for anyone to be out on the streets, so he sat on a bench and waited. Soon his contact would arrive.

  It was beautiful here in Argentina; the beach, the crystal blue water. He wished Christa were with him, her hand in his, smiling at him with those soft, celestial blue eyes . . .

  Just then, a tall, slender man with thin wavy hair and a bright smile walked over, “You must be Manfred Blau.”

  “Yes,” Manfred answered.

  “Good. I’m glad to see that you got here safely.”

  “Yes, thank you.”

  “I hope your trip wasn’t too difficult. I am assuming that this was your first time in a submarine?”

  “Yes, it was.”

  “Quite the experience, I’d say.”

  “Yes, quite,” Manfred answered.

  “By the way, I am Konrad Klausen.”

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  “The pleasure is all mine.” Konrad smiled, then he uttered the code words. “Well, follow me. Everyone has been expecting you.” Manfred got up and followed Konrad to an amphibious floatplane that stood waiting just a few hundred meters away

  “Let’s get onboard,” Konrad invited.

  Manfred nodded, following him up a flight of stairs and into the body of the plane where the captain was waiting.

  “Manfred Blau?” the captain of the plane asked.

  Manfred nodded.

  “This is Manfred Blau, alias Dolf Sprecht. You know where he is to be taken?” Konrad asked.

  The captain nodded.

  “Welcome to my plane.” The Captain smiled, his teeth perfect and white. “This is an amphibious floatplane. It can take off on land or on the water; a wonderful little aircraftnd so convenient.”

  Manfred sat, sinking down into one of the plush black leather seats while eyeing another man sitting in a seat across the row from him.

  “Tonight, you two are not my only passengers,” the captain said. “I’d like you to meet Obersturmbannführer Adolf Eichmann. To the outside world, he is known as Richardo Klement, just as you are known to the outside world as Dolf Sprecht. When I asked him if the two of you had ever met before, he said that you had not. I must admit, I was rather surprised.”

  “A pleasure,” Manfred said, as he raised his hand in a Nazi salute to a man with a lazy eye, and a sinister gaze.

  “Heil Hitler, Work-detail führer Blau,” Eichmann said, standing to salute then sitting down again and crossing his legs.

  “Heil Hitler,” Manfred replied, standing as well to show respect.

  “It seems I have been called to attend a dinner meeting in Tucuman, and that is where you are headed. So, here we are, together. And, of course, Strumscharführer Klausen and I are old friends.” Eichmann smiled a patronizing smile that indicated that he knew he was far above Klausen.

  “Yes, that’s true,” Konrad said.

  “You were in Spandau, is that correct?”

  Manfred nodded.

  “My old friend was there with you,” Eichmann said with a cynical smile. “And how is Rudolf?”

  “Hess?”

  “Yes, Hess. You were in Spandau, so you were in prison with him, were you not?”

  “Yes, I was. He is all right. His stomach bothers him. And, of course, being in a prison is not easy for him.”

  Eichmann nodded. “He always fancied himself a nobleman.” Eichmann shook his head. “What a damn fool. He insisted on serving his time, refused to run away when he had the chance. Now look at him . . .”

  Manfred studied Eichmann. Adolf Eichmann had a perpetual smirk, one that seemed to mock the world. It seemed to say “I can do as I please, I can get away with anything. I am smarter than anyone else.”

  Manfred’s intuition told him not to trust Eichmann.

  “And Speer?”

  “He’s doing as well as can be expected. It’s not easy to be in a prison.”

  “I can well imagine. That’s why, as soon as things began to look as if Germany might lose the war, I went to some of our generous friends in Italy who helped me get here to South America.”

  “I didn’t come through Italy,” Manfred said, making conversation.

  “I am aware. That was because there was no need. If you were swept out of the country fast enough nobody would be the wiser. After all, you do look a great deal like Dolf Sprecht. And Dolf had served his time. Besides, Sprecht was such a small-time nothing that no one really cared what happened to him.”

  “Actually, he did serve all of his time. I mean I did.”

  “Yes, but you do know that there are myriad Nazi hunters who are seeking us out all the time. They are mostly Jews looking for revenge. So, we had to be sure that none of these Nazi hunters recognized you as Manfred Blau. And believe me, these Jews are smart and devious.”

  “I had no idea,” Manfred said, rubbing his chin.

  “I always said that we should have sent all of them to Palestine, the Jews I mean. They wanted to go. We would have had them all in one place at one time. Then . . . we could have bombed the whole thing off the map, and “kaput.” We would have been done with the whole mess. No one listened. Instead, it was decided that we would build the death camps. What a dirty business; the smell, the constant ashes from the crematoriums, ichh. What a mess.”

  “Are the Nazi hunters trying to find you?”

  “Of course, but they never will. I have far too many connections protecting me in Argentina and Brazil. The government is on our side, and they see to it that we have what we need. As soon as any of those blasted Jews are spotted, and believe me, there are spies always watching, I am whisked away by plane to a safer destination. That’s why it’s a good idea to always live near water. If you should need to escape, it makes the getaway quick and easy if it can be done by seaplane or an amphibious craft.”

  “Will I be safe here in South America?”

  “There are never any guarantees. Be cautious, but don’t worry too much about anything. Everything is as much under control here as it can be. Like I said, the government is behind us. They secure jobs for us and help us to maintain our cover. We just have to be watchful. Never let your guard down. Always be aware of who and what is around you,” Eichmann said.

  Chapter 41

  The meeting took place in a large estate home made of white stone, set back from the road and surrounded by trees. Two large imposing men dressed in the black uniforms of the SS stood at the door holding rifles. They carefully checked each guest against a list of those who had been invited before they were allowed to enter.

  Once inside, it felt to Manfred as if he’d been transported back to Germany before the Fatherland had begun to lose the war. There were crystal chandeliers and tables with white linen tablecloths that were embroidered with black Swastikas. Two large double doors opened onto a long patio that was raised four feet above the ground and surrounded by a white, wrought iron railing. The tables were covered with platters of traditional German food: thick sausages on a bed of sauerkraut, potato dumplings, pork roast, and Jaeger-Schnitzel. There was German potato bread and red cabbage, as well as an entire table just for desserts.

  It had been a long time since Manfred had enjoyed such wonderful food, and he felt his mouth water as he looked at the overflowing table.

  “Why don’t you make up your plate, and then come with me and I’ll introduce you to the others,” Konrad said.

  Manfred nodded and quickly gathered his food, and the two began to walk around the room.

  “I know it seems strange to be here in South America, but you’ll get used to it. I’ve even started to like it here,” Konrad said.

  Manfred smiled. The house had a tropical feel to it, with large open windows and massive wicker fans.

  “This is our most esteemed Dr. Mengele. He h
as done a wonderful job of advancing science and medicine.” Konrad introduced Manfred to a handsome, dark-haired man who was wearing a perfectly pressed white linen suit.

  “Heil Hitler,” Dr. Mengele said.

  “Heil Hitler,” Manfred answered, just as another man walked over to them.

  “Heil Hitler.”

  “Heil Hitler.”

  “This is my friend and colleague, Dr. Klaus Barbie,” Mengele said, introducing the doctor to Manfred.

  “It’s a pleasure to meet both of you,” Manfred said.

  Manfred recognized Franz Stangl from Treblinka when Konrad took him across the room to where Stangl had been standing with his friend Gustav Wagner.

  “So you see, there are many of us here,” Konrad said. “We are working together to rebuild the Reich.”

  Manfred nodded. “It’s a lot different than Germany.”

  “It’s not really as bad as one might have expected. I mean, the weather is nice, and the food is good. You’re right, it is not the Fatherland and will never compare, but for now we must make do,” Konrad said. “Would you like to take a walk outside? The grounds are lovely and, quite frankly, you look a little overwhelmed.”

  “Actually, I would like to take a walk, and you’re right, I am just a little overwhelmed. I just arrived this morning and I’ve been traveling all day. I could use a little time to recuperate.”

  “Understandable. Come, let’s go outside,” Konrad said. As they stepped out on to the veranda, Konrad reached over and took two glasses of wine from the tray of a passing waiter. He handed one to Manfred, and they both descended the stairs into the garden. A sweet, fruity smell permeated the air as they walked past the mango and papaya trees.

  “You are right. It is quite lovely here, really. Charming,” Manfred said.

  “Yes, it is. It’s peaceful. As I’ve said before, I have come to enjoy living in South America.”

  “I am assuming that Brazil and Argentina are very much alike?”

  “Yes and no. There is the language difference. In Brazil, they speak Portuguese and here it’s Spanish.”

  “I don’t speak either.”

  “It’s fine, we have plenty of interpreters, and most of the people you will come in contact with can speak some German.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, at least enough to get by. Once the natives discovered that we had plenty of cash, they learned the language well enough to sell us this or that,” Konrad laughed.

  Manfred smiled at him, studying his companion. Konrad was a lot like him in many ways. Both men were small in stature, neither of them athletic or attractive in a classic sense.

  “I’ve been working with ODESSA to bring Eichmann’s family here. He misses them terribly. He asks constantly when they will be coming.”

  “ODESSA is pretty good at making the arrangements?” Manfred asked.

  “Yes and no. They have a lot of connections that help them to secure passage for us and for our families. However, the Jews are never far behind. They’re like rats you know; sniffing, smelling, never giving up, and they’ve caught a lot of our good men,” Konrad said.

  “You don’t have to tell me about Jews. I know how deceitful and underhanded they are. When I was at Treblinka, nasty place, my wife was ill and I needed help in the house. I made the mistake of taking a Jewess in as a housemaid I was good to her because she took care of my dying wife and our child. But do you know how she repaid me? When I went to trial in Nuremburg, she was the first one to go up as a witness against me. It was that Jewess that insured my conviction. I should have killed her when I had the chance,” Manfred growled with the memory.

  “Yes, I heard all about your trial. Where are your wife and child? I have not received any instructions about bringing them here.”

  “My wife is dead,” Manfred said, and the words stung his heart anew as he heard them spoken aloud, in his own voice.

  “And your child? You had a daughter I believe?”

  “Yes, her name was Katja. I don’t know where she is. I was in prison when my wife sent her somewhere.”

  “We should seek her out. Didn’t you adopt her through the Lebensborn?”

  “Yes. You knew about that?” Manfred asked.

  “Yes, I read about it a long time ago in a letter praising Himmler’s work with the Lebensborn,” Konrad said.

  “I would assume that the child is probably living with her birth mother,” Manfred said.

  “Do you remember the woman’s name?”

  “I believe it was Helga Haswell. I don’t have the papers. Christa had them.”

  “Helga Haswell,” Konrad said, his inner antenna flying up with recognition. Helga Haswell was Detrick’s sister. Detrick. Again. My God, Detrick. His one true friend; the man to whom he owed so much. Detrick. He still dreamed of Detrick, of his blond hair, his easy smile, his defense of the weak. Could he never escape from Detrick? Never? Konrad wanted to cry out here and now, standing under the moon thousands of miles away from Germany. He wanted to cry out to Detrick, tell him how a day did not go by that he was not filled with shame and regret for betraying him. Detrick. Would he never be free of the memory of Detrick? Konrad sighed. He took a cigarette out of the breast pocket of his jacket and lit it, inhaling deeply. If only he could quiet his mind.

  “Are you all right?” Manfred asked, studying his new friend. Konrad had turned pale, a light shade of gray, as if his life was seeping out of him. Manfred had seen dead bodies, many dead bodies, and this was the color they turned when they died. “Konrad . . .”

  “I’m sorry. I was thinking about something,” Konrad said, trying to smile as he turned back to face Manfred. “Would you like me to check on what happened to Katja? See what I can find out?”

  “Could you do that for me?” Manfred replied. He liked this young man, this Konrad Klausen, who was so helpful and charming.

  Konrad sucked the smoke from his cigarette deep into his lungs. Detrick, his mind cried out, Detrick, shut up, shut up, let me be.

  “Do you have another cigarette?” Manfred asked, forcing Konrad back to reality.

  Konrad nodded. He tipped the pack and Manfred took one. Konrad lit it for him.

  “Do you like cigars? I get the most marvelous cigars from Cuba. I’ll get you a box.” Konrad said, trying to sound casual and stop the trembling of his hands.

  “Yes, I’d love to try them. And thank you for offering to help me find my little girl again.”

  “Of course, it’s my job to see to it that you have everything you need here in South America. And besides, I like you.” Konrad smiled, but his mind would not be silent. It kept screaming out to him, crying out Detrick, Detrick . . . Detrick . . . He could not search for Helga. If he found her then he would be too close to his memories of Detrick. He must find the child, but how, how?

  Manfred nodded, “Thank you, anything at all that you can find out for me would be greatly appreciated.” He wanted to know what had happened to Katja. Not that he’d ever loved the child; he’d hardly had the chance to get to know her. She’d come into their lives just as things began to go sour. Oh, if only things had been different. But his little girl was the last thread he had left connecting him to Christa, and Christa had loved Katja dearly.

  “We’d best start heading back. The meeting is about to begin,” Konrad said.

  Manfred and Konrad strolled through the lush gardens back to the house. A full moon lit the pathway. Once they were a few feet away, they heard the strains of a violin.

  “That’s Wagner’s ‘Wedding March,’” Manfred said, his chin trembling. That song had played at his wedding. He’d held Christa in his arms as they had danced their first dance together as a man and wife, her sky-blue eyes lit by the chandelier. How optimistic he’d been then. It had seemed as if nothing could ever come between them. Nothing except her father, damn him, for hiding Jews, for ruining everything Manfred had worked so hard to build.

  “Yes, it is the ‘Wedding March.’ That’s Eichmann play
ing. I’ve heard him several times before. He’s quite good,” Konrad said.

  “What a surprise; Eichmann plays the violin?”

  “Yes, and quite well,” Konrad smiled. Then he stopped and turned to Manfred. “Ah, I forgot to mention this. Do you have a blood-type tattoo under your arm? It is too dangerous to keep it now. If you are caught, it identifies you as an SS officer. But, don’t worry, Mengele will remove it for you.”

  “I was never tattooed. I wasn’t in the Waffen SS,” Manfred said. “In fact, to be quite honest, I was lucky to get into the party at all. Dr. Goebbels befriended me and brought me in. He was a dear friend. I miss him,” Manfred said. He was hoping that Konrad might tell him that it had all been a lie and that Goebbels had escaped after all.

  Konrad said nothing. He just nodded.

  When Konrad ushered Manfred into the banquet room, everyone was already seated.

  “You will have to excuse me. I must go up and speak. Please make yourself comfortable. I’ll come by and check on you again later,” Konrad said, leaving Manfred sitting alone. A man who Manfred did not recognize stood at the front of the room with a microphone.

  “Heil Hitler,” he said, saluting. The others stood and saluted back to him.

  “We will begin by reciting our oath; the oath that we swore to keep when we joined the party. Gentleman, are you ready?”

  The men responded in the affirmative. They all remained standing as they began to recite the oath they had taken long ago when the Third Reich was still strong.

  "What is your oath?” the man at the front began.

  "I vow to you, Adolf Hitler, as Führer and chancellor of the German Reich, loyalty and bravery. I vow to you and to the leaders that you set for me, absolute allegiance until death,” the group answered.

  “Please be seated.”

  “Tonight we are gathered here to discuss a task that is of great importance to all of us . . . rebuilding our Reich,” the leader of the meeting said. “So, without further adieu, I would like to welcome our guest of honor. Most of you probably know him already. I give you Sturmscharführer Konrad Klausen.”