by P J Skinner
‘So, what are you saying, Simon?’
‘I think I chose the wrong sister.’
***
Sam’s mother, Matilda Harris, was fretting. She had a terrible secret. There was no way she could keep quiet without tearing herself in half. Try as she might, she couldn’t forget what she had seen. She had decided to drop some of Hannah’s belongings back to her at her flat one morning on her way into town. It was quite early but she knew her daughter would be at home on a Saturday so she didn’t bother letting her know that she was coming. Pulling in to the pavement near the house where Hannah lived, she noticed the front door opening. She was about to wave when Simon came out. This was odd but not as awful as what happened next. Hannah followed him out in her pyjamas. He turned around, took her in his arms and kissed her passionately before leaving. Waving back at Hannah, he failed to see Matilda Harris in the car parked beside the pavement as he walked past whistling.
‘I couldn’t believe my eyes,’ she told her husband. ‘I was so shocked, I slid down in my seat so he didn’t spot me.’
‘What did Hannah say about it?’
‘I couldn’t face her and I drove off again.’
‘Did she see you?’
‘No, I don’t think so.’
‘Christ. What a mess. What on earth is going on? Does Sam know?’
‘Simon won’t have told her while she was in Sierramar. She’ll be looking forward to seeing him after being away.’
‘Poor old Sam. She never has any luck. What are you going to do?’
‘Do?’ She sighed and pushed back her hair. ‘What can I do? Hannah is so selfish. She always gets her own way, but I never thought it would come to this. I suppose I’d better talk to her. It’s not going to be pretty.’
‘Rather you than me. I would offer to talk to Simon but you are aware what I think of him. I might do something stupid.’
‘I feel like slapping her. She’s gone too far this time. I can’t understand where we went wrong. They are so different, I sometimes wonder if one of them got swapped in the hospital.’
‘Except that they look like twins.’
‘Well, Hannah definitely qualifies as the evil twin right now. I’m going to give her a good talking to.’
‘And Sam?’
CHAPTER XXI
Alfredo, August 1988
Alfredo came to on the floor, shivering from a combination of shock and cold in his tiny prison. His body felt stiff and sore. From where he lay, he could see a chamber pot under one of the camp beds, surrounded by the corpses of beetles and millipedes. He reached underneath and pulled it out. Levering himself up on the bed frame, he relieved himself into the pot and pushed it back under the bed. It got stuck on something protruding from the concrete, and urine splashed over the side and floated a couple of insects off the dusty floor. He snorted in disgust.
Sitting on the opposite bed, he reviewed the contents of the room in the strong moonlight that entered from the roof down a mirrored funnel. There were two beds, with thin blankets, and a table, beneath which was pushed a rickety-looking wooden chair. The walls were whitewashed and flaking onto the floor which was painted red and had an odd sheen. A single bulb hung from the ceiling. He pushed his shoes off, dropping them between the beds, but kept the rest of his clothes on.
Crawling into bed, he wondered if this was a dream. It did seem real but he couldn’t quite focus on his surroundings which made him doubt its existence. It was freezing. He sat up again and reached across and took the second blanket from the other bed and pulled it over himself. There was no pillow, so he rolled up his waxed jacket with the cotton lining on the outside. Lying in the moonlight, he forced himself to shut his eyes and slow his breathing and he was soon asleep.
The next morning, he awoke exhausted and disorientated, traumatised by the events of the night before. Where was Saul? There was something wrong but he could not remember what it was or why he was sleeping in this tiny room. He caught sight of his shirt cuff, covered in dried blood. Lots of it. Was he injured? He felt no pain. He waited for something to happen. When someone knocked on the door of his room, he was gripped by fear and could not answer. His heart was hammering out of control even though he was lying in bed. He pulled the blankets right up to his nose exposing his feet. The door swung open and a man stood looking at him. Alfredo stared back. He thought he knew this man but he was confused. Trying to stand, the room spun and he sank to the bed again. ‘Are you feeling unwell, Dr Vargas?’ A voice floated across the room. Alfredo smiled as it landed on his bed and purred in his ear. Then he fainted again.
***
The first days of his captivity went by in a blur. It became apparent to his captors that he was suffering from shock. Dr Becker made him stay in bed under some old covers. They gave him soup and hot sweet drinks laced with sleeping pills. When he surfaced, he was clammy and filthy, still wearing the same clothes as on the night he was captured. He surveyed the room as if he had never seen it before and was surprised to see Kurt Becker standing in the doorway.
‘Dr Vargas, welcome back. How are you feeling?’
‘I think a troll has taken up residence in my mouth but apart from that, not too bad.’
‘I regret to inform you that your colleague is dead and that you will soon join him. However, I don’t see why your last days should be miserable. You do not deserve your fate, you were a pawn in Mr Rosen’s game.’
Alfredo digested this information. He felt at a disadvantage lying in his bed and he made a big effort to pull off the covers and swing his feet down to the floor.
‘I’m a dead man walking? So why did you keep me alive?’
‘I may need you.’
‘It’s nice to feel needed,’ said Alfredo, with patent insincerity that went right over the top of Becker’s head.
‘Well, I am alone here, except for the guards. If you promise not to attempt to escape, I will allow you to come and go in the laboratory at your leisure. Indeed, since there is no chance of you ever telling anyone what we are doing here, I am willing to share our story with you. As a historian, I think you are in a privileged position to be at the making of the future as well as understanding the past.’
‘Until you kill me.’
‘Yes, there is that disadvantage but I can make it painless.’
‘Do I have a choice?’
‘No. I mean, you can stay in this room until you die if you prefer, but that’s the alternative.
Alfredo was struck by the thought that Kurt Becker was bored and not following orders. If Becker could be convinced of the futility of murdering him, he might stand a chance and he was always being told how witty and charming he was. This was the acid test of his character. It was a bit like an exam where you either passed or failed, except that it was life or death. Alfredo chose life.
‘I’d love some breakfast,’ he said.
‘Will you eat eggs?’ said Becker as if he were hosting a weekend in the country.
Breakfast was delicious. Alfredo was embarrassed at how much he enjoyed it. And the condemned man devoured a last meal. Dr Becker looked at him as if to say something but stopped.
‘What?’ said Alfredo, ‘what did you want to ask me?’
‘I was wondering what our friend Mr Rosen told you about me.’
‘He said that you sent his family to Auschwitz, and that he had escaped from the transport but that his sister and parents had gone on to die in the concentration camp. Is it true?’
‘Yes. I was acting under orders.’
‘Ah, that old chestnut. I hope you are going to be frank with me or I would rather die now,’ he drawled.
Dr Becker looked startled, and unable to find a suitable retort, he roared with laughter. Alfredo was a little disconcerted. He realised that the man was like a cat toying with his prey, thrilled to see it running away far enough to slam a paw on its tail to make it more exciting. Resistance is futile, schweinhund.
Dr Becke
r stood up.
‘Come on, bring your coffee with you and I’ll tell you a story.’
They walked into the laboratory and Dr Becker gestured at an old armchair.
‘Sit there. Oh, by the way, there are some clean clothes on your bed and the toilet is down the hall to the right. It has a handheld shower with hot water in one corner. It’s a bit primitive but it works. Use it when you like. Please don’t do anything foolish or I will be forced to shoot you.’
Alfredo sat down, changed his mind and stood up again.
‘I’ll go now if it’s okay with you,’ he said.
When Alfredo came back from his shower, Dr Becker had put on his lab coat and a pair of surgical gloves and he was absorbed in his work. Alfredo was horrified to see that he was removing the flesh from what looked like a finger. The finger was long and thin and fresh. Nauseated, he shut his eyes and tried to pretend that he hadn’t seen it. Inside he knew. It’s meat now. Saul is gone. When he opened his eyes, he saw that Dr Becker was still working on his gory task.
‘Why did you come here?’ asked Dr Becker. ‘What did you hope to gain?’
‘We were investigating a report that a group of high ranking Nazi officers, who are wanted by the War Crimes Commission, had escaped to Sierramar at the end of the war. Saul had heard that you were one of them and he enlisted me to help him find you. My friend Ramon Vega gave me a copy of his research, which backed up the story about the fugitives arriving here, and then he was murdered in a fire. I don’t suppose you have anything to do with that?’
Dr Becker did not answer.
‘Saul was trying to find you so that he could get his revenge for his family. He didn’t tell me that was his plan,’ said Alfredo, ‘I thought we were trying to track down the whole group.’
‘He nearly succeeded.’
‘What happened last night?’
‘It was last week. You have been asleep for days. He shot Hans from the operating table and killed him I’m afraid.’
‘You couldn’t save him?’
‘Hans? No.’
‘I meant Saul.’
‘We didn’t try.’
‘What’s so secret that he had to die? The war has been over for decades. Couldn’t you have let him go? He was harmless.’
‘I can see that you have no idea what we are trying to achieve here. You pair of idiots almost ruined our plans.’
‘Achieve? I thought you were in hiding from the authorities.’ And what could they achieve in a cheese-making, lederhosen-wearing village in the Andes?
‘God, that’s unfortunate. We are so close, and to think we were almost foiled by a pair of ignorant, glory hunters.’
‘I resent being called ignorant, although I can see your point. I’ve no clue what you're doing in this laboratory. We didn't expect to stumble across an amateur science project run by a bunch of Nazis.’
Dr Becker was not amused and drew himself to his full height.
‘Be careful, Dr Vargas. If you cross the line, you cannot come back.’
‘I apologise. I get sarcastic when I'm nervous, and you have me at a disadvantage.’
‘I understand. Did you go to school in England? It appears that you have an English sense of humour. ’
‘So I’m told. It’s a bit of a blur due to the amount of drink I consumed being proportional to the number of memory cells that I have obliterated.’
‘Well, you won’t need to remember any of this. I’ll start at the beginning, shall I?’
Alfredo was struck by the parallels with his conversation with Saul and felt like crying. He took a deep breath.
‘I’m listening.’
***
Lying in his bed that night Alfredo wondered if Gloria had realised that he should have been back by then. His regret at not leaving her a detailed note of their itinerary and how long they would be away increased as he reviewed the missed opportunities to speak to her and tell her where he was. He knew how resourceful she was but she was not psychic. Her absence felt like a surgically removed body part. The ache in his heart was not reduced by the knowledge of his forthcoming execution. He still held out hope that he could somehow prevent it but with what he knew now, he had to be realistic. Dr Becker would have to kill him and Boris Klein would carry out the execution without a qualm. It was a pity that they were wasting their talents in a laboratory stuck in a hillside in the middle of nowhere but there was no doubt that the central idea was the product of insane minds stuck in the past.
‘We’ll start with the basic science behind our project. Have you ever heard of cloning?’ asked Dr Becker.
‘No, not really. Perhaps you could elaborate?
‘The DNA contents of an animal cell are removed from the cell and injected into an unfertilized egg cell of the same species which had already been emptied of its DNA content. The material and the egg cell are fused together using electric pulses. This cell is implanted into a womb and grows as normal. This is the technique that we are using here.’
‘I do recall hearing about it before. Weren’t they experimenting on sheep? But I understood that there were hundreds of failures. As far as I’m aware, they haven’t managed to produce a healthy adult sheep. Is this technology reliable?’
‘Ah, Dr Vargas, you’re an innocent abroad. I was doing experiments on human cells in Auschwitz before you were a twinkle in your father’s eye. We have fifty years of research on our side. Our first lamb was born years and years ago.’
‘But why do this research in secret? What’s the point? Are you creating a flock of killer sheep or something? A new secret weapon?’
‘You need to learn some respect, Dr Vargas. I was told that you're a drunk. It has made you reckless.’
‘If I’m going to die anyway. I’d prefer to go out fighting. So why are you doing this?’
‘I have a sacred duty to perform and I need to be one hundred percent certain that I can carry it out. I have practiced for years and we are on the brink of success.’
‘What are you trying to clone?’
‘Before I tell you that, I must give you the background to this project so that you understand our motives.’
‘I’m listening.’
‘When the Second World War was coming to a close, we members of the Third Reich realised that we had to accept defeat or become extinct as a culture. I was one of a group of loyal Nazis who swore to make it their mission to establish a Fourth Reich in the fullness of time.’
‘A Fourth Reich?’
‘Yes, A pan-Aryan world empire encompassing the land populated by European-descended peoples. We escaped from Germany to various countries in South America to wait for the moment to try again. That time is approaching with the dominant role of Germany in Europe. In thirty years’ time, we will once again rule the continent.’
‘Who will lead this Fourth Reich?’ asked Alfredo, who was afraid that he might be hallucinating.
‘Adolf Hitler.’
Alfredo was now quite convinced that he had entered a parallel universe. Perhaps they had drugged his coffee? Was he having an epic dream?
‘The Adolf Hitler? Or a descendant?’
‘There is only one Adolf Hitler.’
‘Look, I hate to be rude but isn’t he dead?’
‘The Führer will never die.’
‘I understand that his ideas might live for ever, but it will be hard for a ghost to run an empire.’
Dr Becker smiled. It was a smile so evil that Alfredo could feel his organs melting.
‘If we carry out the final part of my research within the next couple of weeks, as planned, he will be thirty years old.’
The penny dropped.
‘Oh my God, you plan to create a clone? How?’
***
Alfredo found it hard to believe his ears. Could it be the delirium tremens? He hadn’t had a drink for days. Could he be imagining this whole episode? Had they been in a car crash? Perhaps he was in a coma and
dreaming. But it was so real. Even the cockroaches were convincing. It was hard to imagine that grown men believed that they could reincarnate a human being because they had his finger, which, he found hard to take in, they had kept frozen for fifty years. His maid wouldn’t keep any meat in the freezer more than three months. And worse, Kurt Becker, an educated man, a scientist, had experimented on his prisoners in the concentration camps, and was now planning to impregnate some unsuspecting female with a cloned cell from Hitler. It was harder to accept that such an urbane man could be so evil, whereas in the case of Boris Klein, it was too easy.
‘I have repeated the steps to the cloning thousands of times. We have had success creating human embryos but so far, we have not implanted them in a human womb. It shouldn’t be any different to a sheep’s womb. Same principle applies.’
‘So that’s why you needed the fingers?’
‘Yes, your friend did not need them anymore. Besides, he was about the same age as the Führer so it was good to practice on genetic material of that age. I am sorry you found that distressing.’
‘And who is going to carry this baby for you?’
‘I think it’s time for lunch Dr Vargas.’
CHAPTER XXII
Sam and Gloria September 1988
Hernan Sanchez shouted at his daughter. He pleaded with her. He begged her. But Gloria would not be moved.
‘Papi, I have to go. When my mother was in trouble, did you not move heaven and earth to try and save her? Alfredo’s the love of my life. I’ve a second chance because he survived. I must go.’
‘But what if something happens to you?’
‘What if there’s an eruption while I'm away? Life’s full of risk in Sierramar. It’s not full of love and that’s more important to me.’
‘You’re so stubborn. You won’t change your mind?’
‘I’m going, and so is Sam.’
‘You’ll take Segundo?’
‘Of course, will you ring him now?’
