by Winn, J. K.
“I am pleased to hear, mein kinder. I many more details have to share with you. It is wunderbar to have you here.”
It wasn’t so wonderful for her with a life sentence hanging over her head.
And her time was running out.
* * *
Dylan lay face down in mud, hands cuffed behind his back. The two soldiers had taken his knife, left him as helpless as a newborn. He was totally at their mercy.
They huddled on camp cots before a single-burner stove, close enough for him to hear most of their conversation. Over steaming cups of coffee. they chatted away as though in the privacy of a closed office. His presence didn’t inhibit them at all, which didn’t bode well for him. Perhaps they had no idea he could understand their plans, or they just didn’t care.
He watched as the taller man poured coffee into the cup held out by the other. Both men were of medium build, but where the shorter one was swarthy with a head of arrow-straight expresso-colored hair, the other was fairer with curly, light brown hair and more European features.
The curly headed soldier seemed to be in charge. “Gabriel, look what I found in the gringo’s pocket when I searched him. Looks like it’s from the doctor’s laboratory. Must be moy peligroso.” He held one of the test tubes toward the other man, pinched between thumb and index fingers.
At the thought the soldier could drop the vial, Dylan’s heart almost stopped. “It’s not dangerous! But be careful, it’s valuable.” The curly-haired soldier’s eyes lit. “It won’t bring much money, but it can save a life.”
The soldier shook the vial. “Then it’s not the special cocktail the doctor has concocted?”
“No.” Dylan couldn’t take his eyes off the test tube.
The one named Gabriel scratched his head. “How’d this gringo get inside the doctor’s compound, Vicente? That crazy old hombre has that place booby-trapped.”
“Our prisoner’s smarter than he looks. We better keep a sharp eye on him.” Vicente put the vial down on a rock. Dylan winced.
“Why worry about him? We’ll be rid of him soon, no?” Gabriel asked.
Vicente shook his head. “I have another plan. He could be of use to us.”
“How?”
Vicente sipped from his cup, then put it on the rock, almost knocking the vial onto the ground.
Dylan drew in a sharp breath. Sweat dribbled from his brows, stung his eyes.
“If we were to turn him in and say we caught him with the vaccine, it would look like the gringo was the one selling the doctor’s serums to the terrorists. That will take the heat off of us when they find out.” Vicente curled his lip in a sly smile. “Only a matter of time until they figure out the terrucos’ have the shit.” He spat out the word, spray of saliva filling the air. “If they connect it to the doctor, I want no part in it. Do you?”
Gabriel chuckled. “Bueno, Vicente. You are a genius. If this works, we could stop hiding out in this cesspool and living off the turistas. I’m ready for a little Lima.” He shaped a woman’s body with his hands.
“Si. Then Von Schotten would have nothing on us. I don’t trust that hijo de puta. I’d like something to hold over his head.”
Gabriel leaned back, stretched his arms up behind him and rested his head against his hands. “Your mind’s always working overtime, amigo.”
Dylan squirmed in the mud. The restraints chaffed his wrists. Sweat leaking into his mouth informed him that he had dropped his jaw in disbelief. So these two renegades were working with Von Schotten, helping him sell his bio-weapon to a terrorist network. To make matters worse, they planned to use him to cover up their part in it. The only good news was that they intended to keep him alive.
As long as he lived, he had a chance of escaping and revealing their plot.
And of transporting the precious serum to Leah in time!
* * *
Wagner’s Das Gotterdammerung played softly as background to Leah’s meal. She finished what Kruger called Lekach, but what she would describe as honey cake, pushed her plate aside and pulled her note pad forward. “So, you found work at the University in genetic disorders. And...?”
Kruger wiped his mouth, then folded his napkin in a neat square before placing it on the table. “I continued to research into Tay-Sacks vhile assisting Dr. Bueler with vork. It vas most productive time.”
Leah scribbled notes as quickly as she could, only slightly distracted by a stirring string crescendo.
“It was at time I met Sophie...your grandmother. She vas at hospital a nurse.”
No wonder I’m interested in medicine, Leah mused. There’s obviously a strong genetic predisposition.
Kruger’s eyes glazed over. “I shall never to forget day I met her. She vas to lunch in dining hall. I had for cup of coffee stopped by after vorking all morning on tedious project of Bueler’s. Vhen I approached coffeepot, she stood nearby. Her hair lit by fluorescent lights made her look like angel. When she smiled, I vas smitten.” He stood and shuffled around the table. Reaching out, he touched the top of Leah’s head. “Her hair like yours.”
She had to stop herself from pulling away from his fingers. She found it hard enough to accept the fact that his Nazi blood coursed through her veins, the last thing she wanted to acknowledge was any sign of tenderness. To do so implied an acceptance of him and his behavior. “From your description, she must have looked Aryan.”
Kruger vehemently shook his head. “That was not consideration. Do you think I have always been Nazi? I fell in love vith vonderful woman. Race was not factor. Verstehstdu?”
She had touched a nerve. What else was he sensitive about? “Go on.”
“I introduced myself, made small talk, questioned her the unit vhere she vorked. She said, Pediatrics. She loved children. The lilt of her voice sounded like fine Lieder, love song, to me. I vas shy usually around women, but I asked her out to eis palast, skating rink. Surprisingly, she to go agreed.” His eyes shone.
“Did you know she was a Jew?”
His shoulders quivered. “Not then, of course. But soon after.”
“And you continued to see her?”
“I had nothing against Jews. I vas even then an educated young man, a doctor, not racist.”
He seemed perfectly serious, but how could he be oblivious to the irony behind his words? His denial must be as solid as the Berlin Wall before its fall. “Really?” She titled her head to the side in question.
“I know vhat you to think, but things vere different then. Not everyone under German rule hated Jews. Hitler vas gaining in popularity on backs of Jews and misery of Germans from First World War. Many of us vere neutral, even sympathetic to Jewish people.”
His story had begun to intrigue her. She turned the page of notes. “Not for long,” she said, her throat dry.
He looked away. “That vas another matter.”
It certainly was. “You didn’t go as far as to marry Sophie, did you?”
He turned to look at her. “Between us came var, but I fully intended to marry her. I vas always honorable man.”
The pen almost slipped from her hand. Was using people as guinea pigs honorable?
Again he ran his hand over her hair. “Hair just like hers,” he muttered before returning to his seat across the table.
“When did you join the Nazi Party?”
“Join, I believe, is incorrect vord.”
She looked up from her notes. “What is the right word?”
He stood, pushing his chair back so it teetered on its rear legs before coming to a rest. “I do not vish to discuss now.”
She rose to face him. “When then?”
“Later, perhaps. You ask many difficult questions. I am old man. Vhat happened long ago, I have enough suffered. I only vant a little peace.”
When he hobbled toward the door, she called after him, “Can there really be peace where there has been no justice?”
In lieu of an answer, he hesitated before leaving the room.
* * *
Gabriel’s voice grated on him. “Get up, gringo. We will move on. Vamos!”
He jerked Dylan to standing. The gun barrel moved him forward.
Alongside him, Gabriel glared. “Go on. Into boat.”
Dylan stumbled forward and tumbled on board, hedged in by the two renegade soldiers. They pulled out onto the Amazon and up a narrow tributary. Every rock of the boat, shift of the soldiers, surge or retreat, made Dylan’s shoulder throb, his gut cramp.
Gabriel reached around him to clasp Vicente’s arm. “Cut the engine,” Gabriel shouted over the roar.
“Why?” Vicente asked.
“I thought I heard something.”
Vicente switched the throttle off and the rumble quieted. He cocked an ear to the river. “I don’t hear a thing, but I won’t start the engine until clear of this place. Comprende?”
Gabriel nodded. “I’d hate to bump into anymore unexpected visitors. It’s terrible to have to end someone’s vacation with a gunshot to the head.”
“Si. It’s a shame about the other turista, but we could not let him report our whereabouts to the authorities.” Vicente grinned at Dylan. “Don’t worry, gringo. You’re going to be in too much trouble of your own to rat on us. No one will listen to a gringo known to sell biological weapons to the terrucos.” He spat out these last words.
That’s the least of my worries right now. My main worry is getting the vial of vaccine to Leah in time. Again, Dylan thought about Leah. He had been away much longer than he anticipated. All he could do now was hope she was still healthy, and find a way out of his predicament. His helplessness frustrated him. The pain in his shoulder paled in comparison to the ache in his heart.
The boat drifted past palm-lined beaches with just a hint of sand. A couple of toucans called from the canopy above. Rainbow feathers and enormous yellow beaks contrasted against clear azure sky. Tree ferns and Rhododendrons intermingled with banana and coconut palms. The natural peace of the river, with its steady flow, played backdrop to Dylan’s unnatural ordeal.
According to the sun, they were moving north on the Amazon, taking him farther away from Leah with each passing minute. Where the hell where they headed, he wondered. Gabriel poked him in the ribs with the paddle handle and Dylan jerked away.
The soldier laughed. “Just want to make sure you’re still alive, gringo.”
The sudden awakening shocked Dylan into a realization of just how disoriented he had been. He better find a way out of this mess before he was unable to act at all.
The boat brushed thick reeds along the river’s edge, and each jolt added to Dylan’s anguish. Occasionally, a frog croaked and sprung away from them as they passed through the jungle undergrowth. Swarms of storks periodically flew overhead. Flies buzzed around Dylan’s face and the smell of decaying plants muddled his mind. What appeared to be a normal day on the river was anything but.
His misery multiplied by the minute. He had obviously strained against the restraints without realizing it, until the rub of steel had chaffed his skin raw. His shoulder tormented him and his head swam. It became more and more difficult to put two rational thoughts together.
Through binoculars, Vicente scanned the shore. “The coast looks clear.” He grabbed his loudly growling gut. “Let’s break for lunch.” Steering the boat to shore, he yanked it aground. “Grab the provisions.”
“What do we do with the gringo?” Gabriel asked.
“Leave him on board. Why bother to move him?”
Gabriel followed Vicente out of the boat with a cooler from the stern. He came back for a crate and grounded it to a spot in the middle of a treeless beach. There he spread a blanket and emptied the contents of the crate onto it. The sight of food made Dylan’s stomach churn.
Vicente lowered himself to the blanket, grasped a slab of jerky and jawed on it. “I’m famished.”
“Me too,” Gabriel said between chomps on an apple. He lowered himself onto his side, cocked his elbow and held up his head with his hand. “Good to take a nice, long, relaxing siesta.” He took another bite of the fruit, closed his eyes and chewed.
Vicente hunkered down at the edge of the blanket with a banana and peeled back the skin. “We’ve worked hard. We deserve a break.”
“We sure do.” Gabriel hummed a few bars of a popular South American tune, smiling to himself. He looked like he was about to doze off when he suddenly startled, jumped to his feet and pointed frantically over Vicente’s head.
“There! Over there! I heard something move.”
* * *
Leah scrutinized the underside of her arm and her torso for evidence of smallpox. Days had slipped by with the relentlessness of sand through an hourglass, and still no sign of Dylan. She was beyond worried—she was nearly frantic.
The idea that a misfortune had befallen Dylan, that he would never return, seemed more possible with every passing hour. She had difficulty not dwelling on the many horrifying possibilities. She tried to shake the image of him suffering with a spear in his side, half-eaten by a ferocious animal, or stranded on a deserted beach, but these mental pictures kept resurfacing to twist her stomach into knots.
And that only intensified her own dilemma. She didn’t have much time left. She would soon have to decide where else to turn, if it wasn’t already too late.
A knock at her door distracted her. She opened it to Kruger.
“I vant you should hear more of my life.” He motioned with his hand, beckoning her to come with him. “There are matters most challenging to discuss.”
“I’m not sure I’m up for it right now.”
“Vhat stops you, mein kinder?”
“I’m so worried about Dylan.”
“Ah, your young man.” He bobbed his head in understanding. “The distance upriver to Von Schotten’s is great. Rest assured, it is too soon to vorry.”
Even his reassuring tone did not put her at ease. She took a deep breath to calm herself.
“Vork should keep your mind off of vorries.”
He might be right because, sitting around wasn’t doing her any good. “All right.” She trailed him down the hall to the study and took a seat. “When we stopped you were saying-?”
“Ja. So many years pass. My memory is perfect no longer. I my best vill do.”
She drew the pad from her briefcase and placed the case on the floor beside her. She was aware of Wagner’s Tristan and Isolde playing in the background. The smell of baking strudel was coming from the kitchen. “That’s understood.”
He leaned on his chair, his wavy silver hair shimmering in the light of the desk lamp. He looked as benevolent as the long-suffering saint in the peeling painting behind his desk. Was she becoming soft on the miserable old Nazi? She hoped not. She didn’t want to give him too much slack. Not after the atrocities he must have committed.
“As I said, I researched into causes of Tay-Sachs disease in Berlin at time little about it vas known. I became local authority on Tay-Sachs. Vord about my research traveled to Joseph Mengele at Auschwitz. Bueler had already to join him at Auschwitz and had told him marvelous things about me.”
The old man squeezed the bridge of his nose, half-closing his eyes. “As you may know, Mengele’s specialty vas genetic disorders, especially those found in Jews. His interest in Jewish disorders meant to support Nazi theory of racial inferiority. Vhen Bueler told Mengele vhat I vas doing, Mengele vas intrigued.”
She scribbled down notes. “Go on.”
“Mengele contacted me, but I told him I had other commitments. I had no vant to join him. Sophie, of course, vas fearful. Being Jewish, she had lost job and had to stay out of sight. She opposed my involvement vith ‘those bastards,’ as she called officials of the Third Reich, especially the SS, to vhich Mengele belonged.”
He rose and paced. “The Jews vere not
only harassed and discriminated against, they vere beginning to be taken away to resettlement camps. No one spoke of it, but many suspected vhat vas going on.” He paused to take a long audible intake of air. “Even though Jews are often portrayed as ignorant about Hitler’s plans until too late, it is not so. Unfortunately for them, they held onto idea rational people to their aid vould come and stop Hitler. Vhen they realized this vas not to pass, it vas already late.
“I vas most firm about not participating in Mengele’s research. At first, he acted cordial and offered me many kind incentives to take position. Vhen I held out, he started threatening and said, if to join him I refused, I vould be sorry. I thought he bluffed.”
Kruger dragged himself across the room. Misery drew deep lines around his mouth.
Watching his suffering made her more sympathetic toward him than she thought possible. “I hope so.”
He stopped in front of her. His whole body quivered. “A bluff it vas not.”
Chapter Fifteen
Dylan watched Vicente spring to his feet, while scanning the tree line.
“What is it?” he asked Vicente.
“Something moved in those trees.” Gabriel poked the air over Vicente’s head. “There.”
Vicente’s attention followed Gabriel’s finger. “Are you loco? There’s nothing in those trees. Perhaps it was just a bird or a monkey. Relax, hombre.”
“I swear I saw movement.” Gabriel anxiously peered about. “Por Dios, I can’t wait to be back in the city. I would even welcome a trip to Iquitos after all this. I want out of here.”
Dylan heard the rustle in the trees about the same time Vicente reached for his rifle. With as much strength as he could muster, Dylan strained at the handcuffs to no avail. He didn’t want to be a captive audience or an easy target.
“There. You must have seen that,” Gabriel shouted.
Vicente grabbed Gabriel’s arm. “!Dios Mio! Get down. I heard it, too.” He pulled Gabriel to his knees.
Vicente raised his rifle and gestured. “You take that direction and I will check things out over there.”