by PJ Skinner
‘There you are. Luxury. You can choose your bed.’
‘I need to use the bathroom.’
‘It’s under one of the beds. Sleep tight, Dr Vargas.’
‘What about Saul?’
‘What about the nasty Jew? He’s dead by now.’
‘Dead? But he was still alive when we arrived.’
‘You don’t know anything, do you? We had to take his fingers before he died or they can’t be used.’
‘His fingers? Oh my God…’
It was too much for Alfredo, who fainted. Klein chuckled. ‘And you are next, Dr Vargas,’ he said and shut the door.
***
Saul Rosen struggled to stay conscious. Blood was choking him and he kept floating off the stretcher towards the lights in the ceiling. The Glock was still in his jacket pocket where he had managed to secret it whilst lying in the mud. The cold metal felt good in his hand. He could hear people talking.
‘A fucking disaster. How were we to know that he was armed?’ said Hans
‘Well, he’s here now. I need to get on with it. Can you tell Boris to hold out a bit longer? I’ll take the bullet out of his shoulder as soon as I finish here.’
‘Okay, doc. Jewish bastard!’ Hans walked up to the stretcher and said it again, right into Saul’s ear. ‘Jewish bastard. You’re going to die in the service of the Fuhrer.’
Saul smiled at him, coughing blood out of his throat so that he could speak.
‘So are you,’ he said.
There was a sharp retort and Hans fell to the floor, a large red stain spreading across his chest. His face had an expression of surprise frozen on it. Becker swore and ran to his side to feel his pulse, but it was too late.
‘Hans? You bastard! He’s dead.’
The gun fell to the floor making Becker jump, and Saul Rosen slipped out of consciousness for the last time. He was still smiling. Boris Klein came running into the laboratory.
‘Jesus, what happened?’
‘He kept the gun. Hans is dead. I have to get the fingers now or it will be too late.’
‘How can I help?’
***
‘What a fucking train wreck,’ said Klein washing the blood off his hands.
‘His father is going to be devastated,’ said Kurt Becker
‘The Schmitt brothers were always a little half-hearted about this project. Fritz fancies the local women. He’s never been Aryan enough.’
‘Well, his nephew was Aryan enough to die for it.’
‘That’s true. I’ll tell them tomorrow and alert them to the fact that we have to leave.’
‘I need more time,’ said Becker, sitting in the corner with his head lowered. ‘People may come looking for Dr Vargas and the Jew. We have to put them off our trail.’
Klein rubbed his chin and examined his fingers.
‘I’ve an idea but we will have to be careful that no one sees us.’
‘Go on.’
‘We need Vargas for a bit. We need to talk to him about Vega’s report, and find out who knows what before we dispose of him. We may need more fingers before we're ready.’
‘That makes sense. So?’
‘Their car is at the hotel. If we bring it here, we can fix the punctures and put the two bodies in it. If we set it on fire and push it down the cliffs outside Lago Verde, people will think that they had an accident on the way home. It will take them weeks to identify the bodies and realise that Dr Vargas is not one of them. We’ll be long gone by then.’
‘Brilliant. I like it. Send one of the boys to change the tyres. Then drive the car here and we will load it up with the bodies and dump it tomorrow. There is no one on the roads at night here. It will be simple.’
‘I’ll get on with it.’
‘We still need a human incubator.’
‘Trust me.’
CHAPTER 18
September 1988
After what seemed like an age, the front door opened. Sam flew out of the kitchen and down the corridor waving the pregnancy-test stick. ‘I have news,’ she said and stopped in mid-sentence. Gloria’s face was white with shock. She was holding a newspaper which she thrust into Sam’s hand.
‘The car,’ said Gloria, ‘it’s Alfredo’s car.’
It took Sam a few seconds to realise what she was supposed to be looking at, a report on the discovery of a crashed car near Lago Verde. ‘Are you sure?’
‘I know the registration and you can see most of the number plate. It can’t be a coincidence.’
Sam looked at the photograph which showed a mobile crane on a narrow road pulling a car back up over the edge of a precipice. To her horror, the car appeared to be carbonised. No-one could have survived that.
‘Did they find the driver? Were there any passengers?’
‘The article doesn’t say. What shall we do?’
‘What about your friend Inspector Torres? Perhaps he can find out for us?’
‘Yes, I’ll ring him now. Oh God, what will I do if I lose Alfredo?’
‘Don’t panic. You need to stay calm and ring the Inspector. I’ll make you a coffee.’
Gloria started rummaging in her bag for the Inspector’s card. Finding it, she rushed out and dialled the police station in the valley.
‘Hello, this is Gloria Sanchez, can I speak to your Inspector Torres, please?’
Gloria put the receiver between her shoulder and her ear and lit a cigarette. She took a long pull and breathed out, draining her lungs. She fumbled with the phone and put the receiver to her ear.
‘Yes, Inspector, thank you, I know you're busy. I need your help.’
She frowned.
‘What? No, it’s not about the fire. My friend Alfredo is missing and they have found his car near Lago Verde. I need to know if he and his friend have been found, too. Did they escape or are they injured and in hospital?’
Gloria nodded.
‘Yes, I can. I’ll be there after lunch. Thank you, Inspector.’
She hung up the phone and turned to Sam.
‘He’s going to ring the police station nearest to Lago Verde and get the details. He wants us to come and see him in the station this afternoon so that he can give us the details in person.’
‘Okay. I made the coffee. Let’s have a cup with our lunch and we can head down to the station.’
‘I can’t eat. I’m so worried.’
‘Come and sit down. You might be able to manage something.’
Sam had to shout at Gloria to slow down on the way to the police station. She was driving even faster than usual and Sam was afraid that they would also end up at the bottom of a precipice. They swept into the car park almost hitting a police car on its way out. Gloria jumped out of the car and made for the station entrance, Sam trailing in her wake. Then she stopped and stood there as if in a trance. Sam caught up with her.
‘Gloria? Come on.’
‘I’m afraid.’
‘I know.’
Sam slipped her arm through Gloria’s and they walked into the station. They were expected. The desk sergeant directed them straight into the office of Inspector Torres who was standing up facing the window with his back to them.
He didn’t need to turn around.
***
Sam drove back to Calderon, heading straight for the apartment of Hernan Sanchez, reasoning that if she lost someone she loved, she would need her parents. Gloria sobbed all the way there. Her mascara had spread over her cheeks. She didn’t say anything except for ‘Alfredo’ over and over, rocking in her seat like a lunatic. Sam got out first and discreetly asked the guard to inform Agatha, Hernan’s maid that Alfredo Vargas was dead and that Gloria was coming up to see her father. They travelled up together in the lift with Gloria weeping into Sam’s chest making a damp black patch on her shirt. The doors opened and Hernan Sanchez stood there with his arms open. Sam passed Gloria into his care without knowing what to say to either of them.
‘I’ll come over tomorrow,’ she said.
‘Why d
on’t you stay, too? There is plenty of room.’
‘I can’t. She needs you to herself. I know I would.’
‘Okay, but I’m here if you need anything.’
‘Thank you.’
Sam pressed the button to descend, waving a sad goodbye. Gloria was enveloped in her father’s arms, sobbing her heart out. Her friend’s desolation was more than Sam could bear to watch. She drove back to Gloria’s flat and parked the car in the garage. It was a cold evening. Her hands felt like ice. She sat on the sofa and looked out at the volcano, feeling like the last person on earth. Wrapping herself in a blanket, she recalled the inspector’s face as he explained that two bodies had been found in the car. They had been impossible to identify on site as they were burned beyond recognition. There was one tall thin man who appeared to be missing his fingers, and one stocky man of about five feet nine who had been driving. The taller man had a tattoo from a concentration camp visible on an unburned part of his wrist. They were pretty sure that he was Saul Rosen. There was no certainty about the identity of the smaller man. The inspector told them that he would receive information about any possible sources of identification for him in the next day or two. He reminded them of the unexpected body at Ramon Vega’s house, trying to give them a little hope. Sam could see that he didn’t believe his own words. Gloria, who had started to cry even before she sat down, did not take any of this in. The inspector, who was used to being the bearer of awful news, seemed quite overcome by Gloria’s distress.
‘I’m so sorry,’ he said to Sam. ‘So terribly sorry.’
***
The next couple of days were the saddest that Sam had ever known. Gloria was inconsolable and Sam could not think of anything to say to make the hurt diminish. Hernan Sanchez had taken on the role of full-time care-giver. Sam felt like an extra wheel, racked with guilt because she had not taken Alfredo’s disappearance seriously, using it as an excuse to escape from her own life. And now he was dead. It didn’t feel real. How could he die like that? It didn’t compute. Old people died. She didn’t have any experience of death and it made her feel inadequate. What did you say to someone who was so sad they wanted to die, too? She tried walking around town to distract herself but her light hair and green eyes made her the target of would-be lotharios on most street corners. Their cat-calls and lewd suggestions intruded on her grief and confusion.
Once morning when out early to try and avoid encouraging them, she noticed a slim young man who appeared to be following her up the hill to Gloria’s building. She tried speeding up and slowing down to check if he did the same but when he overtook her, she felt ridiculous. Why would he be following her? When she got to the door, he was leaning against the wall outside, smoking a cigarette, leering at her. Increasing her pace, she got into the lift and waited for the doors to shut. As they started to close, he jumped in and stood right next to her. He leaned over and pressed the button for the floor above, his hand brushing her breast. He apologised, rather insincerely, but Sam relaxed a little, guessing he was visiting a friend and was chancing his arm with the gringa. He smelt strongly of old sweat and garlic. His greasy hair was combed into submission and stuck down with pomade. She felt a bit repulsed by his smug presence so close to her and was relieved when she could get out at Gloria’s flat. She felt like she had seen him before, hanging around on the street but she couldn’t be sure. Alfredo’s death had taken away a lot of her certainties.
When she got upstairs, she was left with a lingering doubt about him. She cautiously pulled the net curtains open a crack and peered down at the street. There he was, leaving the building again. Perhaps his friend wasn’t in. He looked up at the window. She snapped back the curtain and then felt foolish. He must have seen the movement. Was she being paranoid? She didn’t know any more.
***
Kleber saw the curtain flicker out of the corner of his eye. There was no way the gringa knew that he was following her. He kept walking, taking his time to reach the Ministry, buying some banana chifles on the way. Holger Ponce was waiting for him, sitting in the back of his ministerial limousine.
‘What kept you?’ he snapped.
‘Sorry Minister, surveillance doesn’t always go to plan.’
‘What have you found out?’
‘Miss Sanchez is staying with her father. The gringa is still in her apartment. She goes walking by herself with a face like a wet Wednesday.’
‘They’ve definitely seen the article?’
‘I’d say so. I spotted the daughter in the lobby of Senor Sanchez’ building and her face was puffy and swollen from crying.’
‘Hah! I knew it. That will stop them interfering in our plans.’
‘No one can stop the Reich, sir.’
‘No, of course, that’s what I meant. You’ve done well. Keep an eye on them just in case.’
‘Yes, sir.’
***
Gloria came home on the fourth day, her face still swollen with weeping. It was strange to see her without make-up; her whole glamourous image having been washed away by the tears. Her hair was shoved into a chaotic birds-nest bun which hung uncertainly to one side of her head. She was wearing some ancient tracksuit bottoms and an oversized t-shirt. Crawling into bed, she hid under the duvets and seemed unable to put her sorrow into words. Sam was ill equipped to deal with such depth of mourning. Having no idea how to comfort her friend, she went into kitchen mode. She made coffee, and tea, and bowls of soup that went uneaten. Washing up gave her something to do besides looking out at the grey skies. She emptied ashtrays and went to the local shop to buy more cigarettes and escape the claustrophobic atmosphere in the apartment.
She was also having to deal with the knowledge that she was carrying a child that she didn’t want. Alfredo’s death had made it clear to her that she was in a relationship with a man with whom she should not be having a baby. This was not easy to admit. She remembered how she had defended him when people who loved her tried to point out the inevitability of the failure of their relationship. She started to hate him for his duplicity and the misery he had caused her. There could be no future for them as a couple with a child. Why had she been so blind? And now she had a horrible choice to make with no support. Gloria was not in a fit state to help her, and needed support herself. Hannah had seemed weirdly disinterested on the telephone. She couldn’t talk to Simon. Loneliness enveloped her like a cold sea. She would have to have an abortion as soon as possible. Despite Gloria’s offer of help, she didn’t want a child under any circumstances. Her career was only starting and it was going to be difficult enough to get past the ring of prejudice the fenced her off from mining without adding a metre to the height of it. She was not ready and she couldn’t face bringing up a child who looked like Simon, or worse, behaved like him.
***
Sam was sitting on the sofa trying to warm her hands on a hot cup of coffee when the telephone rang. Gloria was hidden under a pile of duvets in her bedroom and did not come out. Sam made her way to the telephone with trepidation. No one knew about Alfredo yet but the rumour about him being missing was spreading. She dreaded fielding the inquiries from their circle of friends.
‘Hello?’
‘Is that the gringa? I need to speak to Miss Sanchez urgently.’
‘Inspector Torres? I’m afraid that won’t be possible. She’s sleeping.’
‘Wake her up. I must talk to her right now. I have to ask her a question.’ His voice contained a suppressed excitement that was contagious.
‘Okay, give me a minute.’
Sam put down the receiver and went into Gloria’s bedroom, switching on the light. The curtains were shut and the duvets rose and fell almost imperceptibly. A stick of incense had left its scent and a long trail of ash on the bedside tail.
‘Gloria, it’s the inspector on the phone. He wants to talk to you. It’s urgent.’
There was a snuffling noise and a nest of hair emerged from the covers.
‘Urgent? I don’t know if I can bear to tal
k to him.’
‘Come on, you can do it.’
Gloria got out of bed with a big sigh, and walked to the phone dragging a duvet with her and leaving a trail of bedclothes in her wake. She picked up the phone and held it to her ear.
‘Hello? Inspector? It’s Gloria Sanchez, here.’
‘Miss Sanchez, sorry to disturb you. I know that you are going through hell right now but there’s been a development.’
‘A development? What do you mean?’
‘We have some new information about the bodies in the car. I know that this is incredibly distressing for you but I need you to confirm something for me.’
‘Okay, go ahead.’ Her voice trembled. Sam grabbed her free hand and squeezed it.
‘Did Dr Vargas ever have a serious break in his leg?’
‘A broken leg? No, I don’t think so. We compared our scars and broken bones once for fun. I’ve broken nearly everything you can break, but he claimed that he’d never had so much as a fracture.’
There was the sound of air escaping from the Inspector’s lungs, a big relieved sigh which even Sam could hear. His voice rose with excitement.
‘The body that we are trying to identify has metal plates screwed into his right shin. We are tracing the serial number now but I think I can tell you…’
Gloria started to sob again, collapsing in a heap on the floor.
‘What?’ said Sam. ‘What is it? Tell me for God’s sake.’
Gloria gulped. She turned to face Sam, her eyes shining like beacons in her face.
‘It’s not him. It’s not Alfredo.’ She lifted the receiver which had been left hanging in the air.
‘Inspector?’
‘Yes, well as you have guessed, we can pretty much confirm that the body is not that of Dr Vargas.’
‘Thank you. Thank you so much.’
‘My pleasure, Miss Sanchez. Please don’t tell anyone. It won’t be official for weeks until we discover who he is.’
Gloria put the receiver back on the telephone and the two women hugged in excitement. ‘I’ll speak to my father’ said Gloria. ‘We need to leave today. Segundo should be available now.’