by P J Skinner
Suddenly she sat up. Before he could react, she had removed his hand and thrust something into his chest. He felt a jolt and pain that radiated over his body. He flew backwards onto the floor. He felt as if he had had a heart attack. Sam was lying down again still holding an odd black unit in her hand. She was laughing. Before he could react, there was a loud bang and the door of the laboratory flew open.
‘Are you okay, Sam?’ said Alfredo.
‘You’re alive?’ said Becker, staggering to his feet.
‘That’s twice you’ve been dead this week,’ said Sam, who was still lying on the trolley. ‘I hope you’re not going to make a habit of this.’
‘I like to make an entrance.’
‘Step away from her now.’ Segundo had moved forward into the laboratory. He was pointing a pistol at Becker’s head.
Becker didn’t recognise him but the threat in the voice was real.
‘I don’t think I will.’
‘Come on now. It’s over,’ said Alfredo.
‘Where’s Boris?’ said Becker.
‘Mr Klein will not be joining us,’ said Segundo.
‘Jesus, you killed him?’
‘It was kill or be killed I’m afraid.’
‘Where is the security guard?’
‘Sleeping. Move away from the trolley. Or I’ll be forced to shoot you, too.’
‘Oh, that won’t be necessary. I’m leaving.’
He reached into his pocket and took out a little silver box which he opened by sliding the lid off. There was a capsule rolling around in the box. He smiled and saluted at them.
Before Alfredo or Segundo could move, Becker had thrown it into his mouth and bitten down on it. His eyes rolled back in his head and he grabbed the fridge, gasping. Foam formed at the corners of his mouth. There was the smell of almonds in the air.
‘Shit, cyanide, he’s a goner,’ said Alfredo. ‘Don’t go near him, that stuff’s lethal.’
Becker fell to the floor without lifting his arms to cushion his fall. There was a sickening crunch as his face met the tiles. Blood trickled along the white surface and into the drain. They didn’t need to touch him to know that he was dead. Sam groaned and Alfredo rushed over to hold her hand.
‘Are you okay?’
‘You're alive? Why? I don’t understand what happened.’
‘Neither do I. Are you still pregnant?’ said Alfredo.
‘Oh God. I’m going to be the mother of Hitler. Help me down. I must go to the shower right now.’
Alfredo helped her swing her legs to the floor. She was still covered in a surgical sheet and looked quasi-biblical. The men couldn’t help staring at her in the flimsy covering. Sam was built like a Valkyrie and being wrapped in a sheet emphasised her athletic body.
‘What are you looking at?’ she hissed, grabbing a couple of towels from the side. She shoved her feet into her shoes and pushed passed Segundo, heading for the shower.
‘What did she mean? Mother of Hitler? What on earth is going on here?’ he said.
‘It’s a long story.’
‘These fucking Germans are weird.’
‘Nazis, not Germans.’
‘Same difference. I need some fresh air. This place is claustrophobic.’
‘All Nazis are not German, and all Germans are not Nazis. Come outside and let Sam have some privacy, and I’ll explain a few things to you.’
***
Sam lay on the floor of the toilet washing herself out with soap and water using a plastic water bottle. The floor was not clean and the cement was scratchy and uneven but it didn’t put her off. She wasn’t taking any chances and had her legs up on the wall so that the water could penetrate to her cervix. It was undignified but compared to the alternative, an easy choice. She watched the soapy water flowing across the tiles and into the drain. There was some weird satisfaction in watching Hitler washed into the septic tank to join the rest of the sewage.
She was still groggy and there were things she didn’t understand. If she was pregnant, how come she was alive? And why didn’t she have any symptoms? She had not put on any weight and the only person who was vomiting was Gloria. It was weird. She tried to stand up but she wasn’t ready so she stayed sitting on the floor under the jet until the hot water turned cold.
CHAPTER XXX
A plate of hospital food was drying in the sunlight flooding into Gloria’s room. She was wearing a pair of her mother’s pyjamas, sitting propped up by pillows covered by an old blanket. A big bunch of stargazer lilies were shedding perfume and pollen in equal measure, staining the off-white doily on the bedside cupboard. Hernan Sanchez sat awkwardly on the edge of Gloria’s bed. His manner suggested that he wanted to say something but couldn’t find a way.
‘Okay, what’s wrong? I can see you want to tell me,’ said Gloria.
‘There is something you should know before you read about it in the newspapers.’
‘What is it, Papi? You’re worrying me.’
He took her hand and looked gravely into her face.
‘I’m ashamed to say that I was involved with the Nazis as a young man.’
‘You? How? I don’t understand.’
‘I was working with Holger Ponce before he was Minister for Public Works.’
‘I don’t like that man. He’s so creepy and he always tries to touch me.’
‘He won’t ever try that again. He had a stroke this morning. I doubt he’ll survive, to tell you the truth. Anyway, he wasn’t nice back then either, but I was from a poor family, and being linked with him was a huge advantage for me. He organised minor contracts for public works for me and then we split the profits.’
‘I always knew there was something not-quite-right about the amount of work you got.’
‘Well, that’s how most people in Sierramar got government contracts in the past. It’s getting more regulated now. Anyway, he introduced me to some Germans who were building a village near Lago Verde and needed a road. I wasn’t stupid, I realised quite early on that they were fugitives, but I took the contract because I needed it.’
‘But they were Nazis, I don’t understand why you helped them.’
‘I was young and foolish. A lot of us admired the German war machine and fascist ideals. It was exciting to be involved with notorious criminals.’
‘And getting government contracts at such a young age.’
It’s ironic because I didn’t make any money from building the road as the mayor of Lago Verde and Holger Ponce fleeced me.’
‘And afterwards?’
‘Afterwards I started hearing about the concentration camps and other atrocities perpetrated by the Nazis in Europe and I refused to do any more work for them. I wanted to report them but Holger Ponce told me that I would never work again if I mentioned it. So, I’ve kept my mouth shut.’
‘Is that why you sent the report to Ramon Vega?’
‘Yes, I thought it was time to earn your respect. You’re so brave. Your mother would be proud.’
‘Thank you, Papi. I understand it was hard for you to tell me that.’
‘You don’t hate me?’
‘Don’t be silly. The baby needs a grandfather.’
***
After Sam had finished her shower, she went outside to sit in the sun with Alfredo. Segundo came back into the laboratory to set a scene for the police. He put his gun into Kurt Becker’s hand and wrapped his fingers around the trigger. Then he used a laboratory glove to pick it up and placed it on the seat. He removed Becker’s shoes and took them outside to where Boris Klein’s body lay. He used them to kick the leaves where Alfredo had lain, assuring they got splashes of blood on them, and then he took the shoes inside and put them back on Becker’s feet. He went outside and found Sam and Alfredo sitting on a tree trunk in the sun.
‘We need to wipe down the site for your prints,’ said Segundo. ‘Can you help me?’
They put the bed back against the wall and wiped
down the furniture and the door clean of prints. Sam tried to remember what she had touched in the laboratory besides the trolley. She shook out the covers to check that she hadn’t left anything behind and the snakebite unit fell out onto the floor.
‘What’s that?’ said Segundo, ‘it looks sinister.’
‘It saved my life,’ said Sam. ‘It’s a stun gun. Do you want it?’
‘Yes, please.’
‘It’s yours. I don’t think I want to be reminded of what happened today.’
The security guard who had come around from being hit on the head, was only too pleased to corroborate the story that Becker and Klein had fought, and that Becker had killed Klein and committed suicide. In return for his freedom, he told the police later that there was no-one else in the laboratory at the time. Segundo was not a man to be crossed and the guard had no wish to go to prison for helping the Nazis.
Sam went outside after a while and sat on the log while the others cleaned up. She was confused. Relieved of course, but sad, too. The whole Nazi thing was still a mystery to her. Why anyone would want to try and clone a mad dictator was something she would never understand. They had waded into something so far outside the norm that it felt like a nightmare and not like a real event that took place. At least they were alive, except for poor Saul. Alfredo had promised to get his body sent back to New York for an honourable burial. Segundo had arrived in the nick of time and she had been saved from a short life as a surrogate mother for Hitler.
Where did that leave her with Simon? She was missing him despite herself. He had asked her to move in with him. How many times had she fantasised about that? And she had ruined it by blurting out the pregnancy thing. It felt like her fault. The course of true love was never smooth. She had picked a man who was giving her a particularly bumpy ride, but it didn’t feel over, not yet. She just couldn’t accept it.
When they were finished at the laboratory, they got into Boris Klein’s pickup and drove it to Lago Verde where they picked up Gloria’s car. Segundo had left it in the hotel car park and he tipped the hotel manager with a large note and a warning to forget about his visit.
On their way out of town, they had to reverse into the ditch several times to let vehicles pass, as the media circus was coming to San Blas in a convoy of flashy vans with satellite dishes on top. Segundo drove them as far as the main road where he descended from the vehicle.
‘I’m going back to Calderon now,’ he said. ‘You take the car south to the hospital at Valle de las Incas. Don Sanchez is there with Gloria.’
‘Thank you, Segundo, we owe you our lives.’
‘Miss Sam, I could never have found the place if it wasn’t for your work on the aerial photographs. I’m sorry I was so dismissive. Alfredo would be dead without you.’
They shook hands and Segundo went to stand at the stop for the regional buses.
‘Shall I drive?’ said Sam, ‘The driver gets to choose the cassette.’
‘Go on then. Are you feeling good enough to drive?’ said Alfredo
‘If you were a girl, I could tell you how I feel,’ said Sam
‘Right. Don’t tell then. I don’t think I want to know.’
‘Let’s have some AC-DC.’
***
They got to the hospital in the early evening. Visiting time was over but the staff allowed themselves to be persuaded to accept a generous donation to the office party fund and waived the rules. Hernan Sanchez, to whom the rules did not apply, saw them walking down the passage and came towards them. He embraced Sam and had an awkward handshake with Alfredo. Sam tried to go into Gloria’s room but Hernan stopped her.
‘I think Alfredo should go in first,’ he said winking. She was amazed and confused in equal measure.
‘Okay sir, thank you,’ said Alfredo, who had already started down the corridor.
He got to the door and shyly opened it. The door swung shut behind him, leaving him standing there, gazing at Gloria was sitting up in bed with her eyes shining.
‘Darling,’ she said, ‘You’re not hurt?’
‘You silly goose, aren’t you the one who’s in hospital?’
He rushed forward and took her in his arms.
‘Oh God, I thought I’d never be able to do this again. You can’t escape from me now. I’m going to marry you.’
‘And who said I was going to accept?’
‘Aren’t you?’
‘Well, since I’m carrying your baby, it might prevent my father from having you shot.’
‘Baby? What do you mean? I thought, you said, didn’t you, what? How? Are you positive?’
‘They say it’s four months gone already. I thought I was getting a little plump. I never imagined that I was pregnant.’
‘But isn’t Sam pregnant? Has the world gone mad? What’s going on?’
‘I don’t know. What do you think?’
‘I think I’m the happiest man in the world.’
‘You’ll have to compete with my father in that case.’
‘Could we call it a tie?’
Sam, who had caught the last comment asked ‘Call what a tie?’
‘Sam, you’re safe, thank goodness. Are you okay?’
‘Yes, I’m fine. I’ll tell you the gory details later. How about you?’
‘I’m pregnant.’
‘You’re what?’
‘Pregnant. They’ve done the tests. I’m going to be a mother.’
‘Oh my God, that’s why you were vomiting. What fantastic news! When are you due? We are going to have babies.’
‘Sam, are you confident you're pregnant?’
Sam’s excitement evaporated and she went a funny colour.
‘Of course!’ she said, ‘I’m such an idiot. I remember now. The stick thing from the pregnancy testing kit landed in a pool of liquid under the toilet. The liquid must have contained hormones from your pee which gave me a positive test. I’m not pregnant. So that’s why Becker didn’t kill me.’
‘You’ll have to explain this comment later. I’m a little tired for so much excitement today.’
‘I have booked a private flight back to Calderon tomorrow,’ said Hernan Sanchez. ‘I’ll get one of my drivers to collect Gloria’s car.’
***
Back in San Blas, there was a solemn meeting of the residents, chaired by the Schmidt brothers who were dressed in black suits and white shirts with fat black ties. The atmosphere in the hall was interwoven with worried muttering and thick cigarette smoke percolating in the air. There was blond hair turning grey on heads bowed with age, and many chairs had walking sticks balanced against them or hooked on the back. Hans Schmidt stood up to speak. He grasped the lectern like a drowning man gripping a lifebuoy, his knuckles white.
‘By now, most of you will be aware that Boris Klein and Kurt Becker have been found dead in the woods outside of town. We may never know what happened to them although it is rumoured to be connected with the death of my son, Hans. The police have designated it a murder-suicide and we don’t want to arouse their suspicions. It would not be wise to pursue it,’ he said.
‘What will happen to our town?’ shouted someone.
‘There is no reason to believe that we are finished. What is certain is that our community is wounded and will never be the same again. I understand that some of you plan to move to Argentina but I’ll be staying here in San Blas, and I hope many of you will also stay here with me. The war is over. This is my home. I want to live my last years in peace. I have met a woman from Lago Verde and I intend to marry her.’
There was some loud murmuring which he quelled by raising his hand.
‘Some of you will object to her ethnicity but I don’t care anymore. I think it is time that we woke up and joined the twentieth century. We need more workers to make a success of the village and I propose to go to the mayor of Lago Verde and organise some interviews. Is there anyone who objects?’
No one spoke.
‘Okay, I’m going to take that as a yes. We’ll have a service on Sunday for Boris and Kurt and I would be grateful if the memorabilia could be discrete as the police may still be here spying on us.’
‘Thank you and for the last time, Heil Hitler.’
***
Sam was a bit overwhelmed. Needing a minute to herself, she left them in Gloria’s room and went to sit in the stairwell. So, she wasn’t pregnant. She wasn’t clear how she felt. Relieved probably, definitely actually. Thank God. She expelled the air she felt like she had been holding in her lungs for weeks and laughed. That was close. If she ever made up with Simon, she was going to make him wear a condom as well as taking the pill. No more heart-stopping panics for her. And would she take him back? She wasn’t sure. It wasn’t his fault that he panicked when she rang him out of the blue. He would probably be waiting at the airport with flowers, and she did enjoy their reconciliations. She would make him beg, though.
***
The reaction to the article in the Miami Herald was instantaneous. Suddenly, Ramon Vega was famous. He was invited to speak on the important talk shows in America. Larry King Live and CNN news invited him for interviews and he was feted from pillar to post. Women were falling over themselves to help him get over the trauma of his near incineration. He took full advantage of the therapy that they offered, reasoning that one should never look a gift horse in the mouth.
It was exhausting being in the public eye. He flew first class and stayed in the best suites. Money poured into his bank account. Publishing houses begged him to write a book, or several. Nazis were, as Guido Luna had remarked, irresistible copy for journalists. Ramon had always imagined that this was what he wanted but when a woman bribed her way into his hotel room and was lying naked on his bed covered in sushi, he realised that too much of anything is boring. That is not to say that he did not eat the sushi, which was lukewarm, and ravish the woman, who was not, but he came to the realisation that he wanted to go home. He rang Alfredo.
