by P J Skinner
Hitler’s Finger
The Sam Harris Series
Book 2
PJ SKINNER
Copyright 2018 PJ Skinner
Dedicated to my beloved friends Rocio Palacios and Diego Arias
Berlin April 1945
The two officers shared a cigarette and stared into the ruins of the Third Reich. The broken silhouettes of bombed buildings and piles of rubble stood out against the iron-grey sky. It had been a cold hard spring and the two men struggled to hide from the north wind which blew through the gaps in the houses. Monotonous shelling pounded the suburbs, increasing in intensity as the guns approached the centre of Berlin.
Dr Kurt Becker flinched when a deafening explosion shook the ground, shifting on his feet and looking around for cover. Too late to back out now. He took a deep drag on his cigarette and passed it to his companion, an SS sergeant, veteran of the Winter War. Both men wore battered greatcoats pulled tight over their black uniforms, and black leather boots, still polished out of habit. Clearing his throat, Becker spat on the ground and ground it in with his heel. He forced himself to speak.
‘The Führer is going to kill himself.’
A coughing fit broke the shocked silence that followed this revelation, as the other man choked on the strong smoke from the cheap tobacco. Handing back the cigarette, he shook his head in denial.
‘Don’t be absurd. That’s blasphemy. What if someone heard you? Anyway, why would he do that?’
‘Reichsfuhrer Himmler offered a surrender to the Western Allies without consulting the Führer. Betrayal by one of his closest colleagues, combined with the fact that the Russians are less than a kilometre away, has made him lose heart.’
‘I hadn’t realised quite how close they were. No wonder he’s a broken man.’
‘He suffered a nervous collapse last week. I had to pump him full of drugs to get him back on his feet again.’
‘What are we going to do?’
‘There’s nothing we can do. We’re powerless to stop him. The war is over. He doesn’t want to fall into Russian hands.’
‘Christ, imagine what they would do to him. It doesn’t bear thinking about.’
‘Look what they did to Mussolini and his wife. The Führer was horrified. They will desecrate his body too.’
‘Why doesn’t he flee? He still has time to escape.’
‘Where could he go without being captured. Anyway, he refuses to leave the bunker. We should plan for the future.’
‘What future? Haven’t you just told me that there’s no future?’
‘I’ve an idea, but it sounds a little crazy. You’ll have to trust me.’
‘We live in crazy times. What are you going to do?’
‘Dr Haase, Hitler’s personal physician, is away so, as his deputy, I will inspect the Führer’s body to confirm he’s dead before they burn it. Can you prevent anyone from entering?’
‘Why?’
‘I need one of his fingers.’
CHAPTER I
London, September 1988
The telephone rang just as Simon insinuated his hand between Sam’s thighs. The consequences of pushing it away were avoided when the ringing shattered the silence with its shrill insistence.
‘Really?’ he said, whipping his hand away in fury. ‘Who on earth can be ringing at this time of night? It’s a bloody liberty.’
It was a rhetorical question. There was only one person they both knew who rang with no regard for the time difference.
‘Don’t worry. I’ll get it in the kitchen.’
She slipped out of bed and into her dressing gown, pulling the cord tight around her waist. She felt guilty for the relief that flooded her body at escaping Simon’s attentions. The tiled hall was cold under her feet and she shivered. It was dark in the hall, and she fumbled for the door handle to the kitchen for several seconds before encircling the cool ceramic globe in her grasp. She entered, shutting the door quietly behind her, uncertain whether it was to keep her conversation private or to let her companion sleep. The phone stopped ringing as she reached for the receiver.
She put the kettle on and waited for it to boil, leaning against the counter and reading the postcards on the fridge door. Steam escaped from the spout and flooded the cold air. As she was pouring the bubbling water over the tea leaves, the telephone began to ring again. Through the kitchen door she could hear Simon swearing.
‘Hello?’
‘Sam? It’s me, Gloria. Are you awake?’
Gloria’s husky voice crackled down the line. Sam smiled at the question.
‘I am now. Is this a social call? It’s three o’clock in the morning here?’
‘Alfredo’s missing.’
‘Missing? In what sense?’
Alfredo was an alcoholic, notorious for going AWOL from his life. Why was this any different?
‘Disappeared. He left for the mountains to search for some Nazis with a gringo journalist and they didn’t come back.’
Sam ignored the reference to the Nazis as being an exaggeration planted to excuse the hour.
‘But hadn’t you stopped seeing him.’
‘We’re back together. We couldn’t bear to be apart.’
Sam thought of Simon waiting in her bed. Who was she to judge?
‘And your father? What has he said about this?’
‘I haven’t told him. He’d be angry if he knew I was seeing Alfredo again and wouldn’t give me any more money. That’s why I phoned you. You’re my only true friend. I need your help to find them.’
Gloria was being sincere about their friendship. The two women had formed a close bond following their first brush with adventure in the jungles of Sierramar. They were both fearless under their different facades and shared a Derring-Do and a sense of the ridiculous that led to a similar outlook on life. And Sam was bored. She had just finished reviewing an interminable and over-worthy feasibility study of a coal mine in a safe jurisdiction with good logistics that never used one word where six or seven would do. Eight hundred pages of excruciating Germanic efficiency. A sensible person would stay in London and search for more work but she needed adventure. People made too many comments suggesting that it was time she settled down now that phase was over. As if she had been partying and drinking instead of working at a respectable career.
Now she had the ideal excuse for an escape. Alfredo had gone off on a bender somewhere and would surface looking exhausted and sheepish, but what if he were genuinely missing? It was tempting to find out.
‘Sam? Are you still there?’
‘Yes, I’m still here. So, what’ll I bring you from London, besides tea?’
‘You’re coming?’
‘Yes, I’ll come. I fancy an adventure. Can you guarantee that?’
‘Oh yes, you can count on it.’
‘Okay, I’ll try to find a cheap flight. I’ll ring you when I have the schedule.’
‘Thank you.’
‘Hey, what are friends for?’
‘Is Simon with you?’
‘Goodnight, Gloria.’
Sam hung up before Gloria launched into an unsubtle interrogation about her sex life. It would keep. She couldn’t explain her ill-advised decision to take Simon back at that hour of the morning. Or at any hour. It was like putting on a pair of shoes that had blistered her feet the last time she wore them. She could never recall the pain they had caused her unless she walked in them. She still wanted him despite his failings. It was an itch that needed to be scratched.
***
When she had arrived back from her first trip to Sierramar six months ago, Simon was waiting for her at the airport like an overeager puppy, tryi
ng to carry her bags and asking inane questions. She had no idea how he had found out about her flight, but later her sister Hannah confessed to having given him the details, worn down by a barrage of requests. Tired after her long flight, she smelt of smoke and sweat and needed a shower. She was not in the mood to meet a lovesick swain, especially one who had broken her heart and hadn’t appeared for months. She had fobbed off his apologies and pleas for a reunion with conciliatory phrases about considering her options. Yet here he was – larger than life and twice as canine – panting and fawning over her. It would have been funny if it wasn’t so awful. She was even flattered that he was making a fuss of her in front of other people. This was new. In the past, he was so absorbed in his own glamour, he barely acknowledged her presence. Now she had become the star in a scene from a corny film and she revelled in it. Giving in to the thrill of being the leading lady, she let him kiss her, perturbed by the flash of triumph she saw in his eyes.
And the first few weeks had been nice, being with a new, improved version of Simon. He was attentive and considerate, complimenting her often. Sam, seduced by the warm glow that came with having a plus one instead of excuses, enjoyed the approving glances from people who wanted her to settle down and live a normal life and stop ‘gallivanting around the world as if she were Indiana Jones’. But his new behaviour wore off after a few months and he returned to his old ways taking her for granted. Sam noticed that he had no interest in hearing about her adventures in Sierramar. Her life without him was an irrelevance. A growing resentment fomented rebellion in her head. Being Mrs to his Mr was anathema to her growing feelings of independence. She didn’t want to fade into a partnership where he held the spotlight firmly on himself. The sex was great but was that enough? She was determined to force him into considering her as his equal no matter how close to the edge that might take them. If he wouldn’t accept her as a full partner, he could forget it.
There was only one problem with this grand plan. She had missed her period and was feeling the queasy panic of the possibly pregnant. Her doubts about Simon’s staying power meant that she hadn’t told him yet. He loved her more when he couldn’t have her. How would he feel if he had to share her? What sort of a father was he likely to be? A question that seemed so rhetorical that she didn’t want an answer.
And what about her? Did she love him or only her idea of him? His Simon-ness obsessed her, the arrogant handsome presence and the wicked charm. He chose her over conventional options which always amazed her. An inveterate tomboy who couldn’t stomach girly behaviour, she was not easy to love. But he did. She loved him because he saw through her defences and wanted what she was hiding. But what if she were to tell him she might be pregnant? Would a fat woman with stretch marks still interest him? She couldn’t deal with this now. Gloria was a good no-nonsense sounding board. A trip to Sierramar would sort out her thoughts.
***
The cross voice of her abandoned boyfriend broke the silence.
‘Sam? What the hell is going on out there? Are you coming back to bed or not?’
‘Coming.’
She shuffled down the corridor trailing the cord of her dressing gown in the dust that lined the border between the skirting board and the tiles and entered the bedroom. Simon was sitting up in bed with the table light illuminating the tufts of his hair and making him look like an indignant owl.
‘What the hell was that about? Why were you speaking in Spanish? Don’t tell me. It was that Gloria woman again, wasn’t it? Bloody foreigners.’
‘Yes, it was. She’s not a foreigner, she’s my good friend so don’t be obnoxious. She’s in trouble, and she needs my help.’
‘There’s a surprise! The woman is a magnet for bad luck.’
Sam bridled but defending Gloria was pointless. Her name was mud for Simon. He blamed her for Sam staying on in Sierramar after her first job with Mike Morton.
‘Well, it’s not her. It’s Alfredo Vargas. He’s gone missing.’
‘For God’s sake. Isn’t he the alcoholic? What can you do about a missing drunk who is thousands of miles away?’
Sam hesitated. Simon let out a hoarse disbelieving laugh.
‘You’re not going?’
‘Um, I might.’
‘Don’t be silly, darling. That part of your life is over. You can’t go. What about me?’
‘Well, I only said I’d consider it. Let’s sleep on it, okay? I’m so tired. I can’t think straight.’
Muttering to himself, Simon moved over to let her into the bed. He switched off the light and reached for her. She flinched at his touch. He muttered something rude and turned his back on her.
***
‘You’re going back to Sierramar? That’s nice, darling. Will you stay with Gloria?’ Her mother, Matilda Harris, passed her a big cup of tea. ‘Coffee cake? Go on, you know you want to.’
‘A tiny piece. Whoa! That’s not small,’ said Sam.
‘I can’t let it get stale.’
‘The squander bug is watching,’ said Bill Harris.
‘Daddy, the war is over.’
‘Will you be going to the jungle?’ he said.
‘It depends on Alfredo.’
‘Just in case you are, I have something for you. I got it from one of my clients.’
‘Honestly, sweetheart. Sam doesn’t want that thing.’
‘What thing?’
Bill Harris was rummaging in a box in the scullery. ‘Ah, here it is.’ He was holding a box with an alarming picture of a snake and some bolts of lightning shooting into it. He took out a black plastic module with two short metal prongs at the end.
‘It looks like something from Star Trek. Can I use it to beam back to England?’ said Sam.
‘It’s a stun gun for snake bites. If you get bitten by a viper, you stick this on the bite and press this button.’ He squeezed the red button on the side of the module. There was a crackling sound like a fly getting electrocuted in a Greek restaurant and blue sparks flew from the prongs.
‘I’m not using that. It’s lethal.’
‘But it might work. And if you are far from a hospital, it could save your life.’
‘Take it, darling, you can never tell when you might need it,’ said Matilda.
‘I’ll put in in my bag now,’ said Sam, who didn’t want to disappoint her father. ‘Thanks, Daddy. It’s brilliant.’
‘You’ll need batteries,’ said her mother.
***
It wasn’t easy organising a trip to Sierramar without arousing Simon’s suspicion. He was prone to fits of jealousy as if he couldn’t help projecting his own behaviour onto her. If she tried to hide something he always assumed that she was seeing someone else, something so far from her mind as to require intergalactic travel. She carried on as normal and packed her suitcases while he was at work, replacing them in the hall cupboard whenever he was coming over to her place. He wasn’t aware of her decision to go to Sierramar until he saw the supermarket bag full of tea and chocolate hidden in the wardrobe. By then she had bought the ticket which was non-refundable from one of the bucket shops on the Tottenham Court Road.
‘It was so cheap,’ she crowed.
‘I can’t believe you lied about going to Sierramar,’ he said.
‘I didn’t lie. I was ever so slightly economical with the truth but I never said I wasn’t going.’
‘But you are going. And without me. A man can only take so much.’
He looked crestfallen, but he was a good actor.
‘Oh, you’ll be fine. You won’t even notice I’m gone.’
‘How can you say that?’
‘It’ll do us good. Absence makes the heart grow fonder.’
She didn’t feel as brave as she sounded but a reminder of how much he missed her would be productive when she had to broach the subject of her pregnancy. Oh God, how had she been so unlucky? She was always so careful to take the pill each morning without fail. Bloody hormones. And what
was she supposed to do with a baby? Strap it across her back and carry on up the Amazon? What a disaster. She considered telling her sister Hannah but the information would get back to her mother. Hannah was as leaky as a sieve. Anyway, she had had a pointless fight with her about Simon. She had gone to see her to say goodbye and things hadn’t gone to plan. Hannah had been in a foul humour because she had broken up with her latest boyfriend and he wouldn’t stop ringing her.
‘He’s like a stalker,’ she said. ‘He won’t leave me alone.’
‘You should listen to him. Sometimes closure is a good thing,’ said Sam, who had never liked him anyway, but got a certain enjoyment from annoying her sister.
‘What? Like you and Simon? Ha! Do you imagine I’m as wimpy as you?’
‘That’s not fair, I wanted to give him another chance. We still love each other,’ said Sam.
‘You call that love, what he did to you?’
‘That’s in the past now. We talked it over and we are trying again. What’s wrong with that?’
‘You are so naïve. What makes you think Simon will be faithful this time? Has anything changed?’
‘It’s none of your business. Anyway, I’ve seen you together. You get on, in fact I’d say you fancy him yourself the way you gaze at him.’
‘Don’t be ridiculous.’ Hannah blushed and Sam knew she had touched a nerve. She couldn’t blame her. All the girls fancied Simon. ‘Anyway, I’m sorry. I’m not cross with you. I’m cross with the stalker.’
‘I’m sorry you're having a rotten time. Listen, I have to go now. Simon will be home soon and he’s not happy that I’m off on my travels again.’
‘I don’t blame him. You are not making it easy for him, home alone again.’
‘I have to trust him. I can’t spend my life wondering if he’s strayed again. He has to police himself or he’ll never grow up. I’m not prepared to go out with an adolescent anymore.’
‘Okay, I suppose he’s no worse than my disaster of a boyfriend. Have a good time with Gloria.’
‘I will. Look after our parents for me.’
