The Girl with the Silver Stiletto

by Vic Robbie

  ‘And that is?’

  ‘To leave here as advised.’

  ‘This could happen all over again, and they would find us wherever we went.’

  ‘No. If the French find no trace, she will be discredited. And their appetite for hunting old Germans will diminish. The important point is to be free to carry on our work.’

  ‘Where can we go?’

  ‘As you are aware, we have bases in Brazil, Venezuela and Chile. And we can choose any of them and expect a good welcome. It won’t be permanent, and we will return here when the threat has gone.’

  The doctor relaxed and smiled. ‘And the boy?’

  ‘We would take him, of course?’

  ‘And must I go?’

  ‘Yes, that is an order. For your safety, you understand.’ His piercing eyes ran over him, and Mengele shivered. He had had colleagues and friends unfortunate to have come under Müller’s scrutiny, and none of them survived. ‘What about Natalie? She is not one of us. She is a mercenary.’

  He took his time answering. ‘She could be useful.’

  ‘We should kill her now before we go.’

  ‘In most circumstances, I would agree, but the boy needs her. We require her help to move him.’ He shrugged. ‘If Natalie says he will be reunited with his mother he will believe her.’

  Mengele was disappointed he had to concede.

  ‘When we have the boy where we want him, then...’

  ‘Das ist gut.’

  Müller clasped his hands together and walked over to the portrait of Hitler and looked up at it with a reverence that was almost spiritual. ‘Don’t think of it as a retreat, Josef, more a strategic withdrawal.’

  35

  Freddie thought of things he could do. And all that he shouldn’t. The ones that would get him into trouble he tried to suppress. But they kept popping up like rubber balls in water. Being cooped up made him all the more determined to escape. He had heard them ordering Natalie to confine him to his room. Would she do as she was told? Perhaps they could break out together and run free with the wind in their hair, and they would collapse in a heap laughing until their sides burst. The idea caused him to blush. Nevertheless, he believed he should be out on that expanse of lawn kicking a ball around. When he had asked her, she replied: ‘Maybe later.’ If maman had been there, she’d have let him.

  The garden stretched to the high wire fence, and after seeing a cat on the other side, he decided he must explore what lay beyond the boundary. And when he next met the two men, whom he had nicknamed Mr Grim and Mr Grimmer, he would ask them straight. After all, they could only say no.

  This morning the plump lady had fussed over him and, out of devilment, he had told her he didn’t enjoy the food, so she scuttled off to the kitchen to fetch something else. Natalie seemed reluctant to talk and was reading a book. When the lady went away, he studied another part of the garden. To the right, he noticed some activity near the fence. He screwed up his eyes in the bright sunshine. A variety of people came and went through a gate. A tradesman’s entrance used by maids, kitchen staff and gardeners that appeared unlocked. And there were no guards. Beyond the gate, a path wound through a wooded area, and long, thick grasses swayed in the breeze. After a few minutes, the maid interrupted his observations, offering a plate of assorted fruits, and he took the opportunity to ask questions.

  ‘What’s it like out there in the trees,’ he said, pointing towards the fence.

  She looked a little surprised. ‘You no wanna go there,’ she said with a pained look. ‘No sir. That a bad place.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Many animals, snakes, many things that might eat little boys.’ Her eyes shone with guilt for telling him.

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘Jaguars.’ She gasped in feigned terror.

  ‘What are jaguars?’

  ‘Big cats. Almost as big as a lion. They eat people.’

  He laughed.

  ‘No funny.’ Her mouth turned down. ‘They catch you and grab your head in their jaws.’ She cupped both her hands together. ‘And then they bite right through your skull.’ And she clapped them shut making him jump.

  Natalie snapped: ‘That’s enough of that. You won’t be going anywhere. Later today you’ll start your lessons. They’ve found you a nice lady tutor.’

  He groaned. ‘Why do I have to do schoolwork?’ Why did grown-ups think that?

  ‘It’s important, the history of the Third Reich, I believe.’

  The more she talked, the less he would listen, and he put his head in his hands. This should be a vacation, and he was eager to explore. The rest could wait. ‘I’ve already done history.’

  ‘Maybe you’ll find these lessons more interesting, and you will learn German, I understand.’

  Sucking in his breath, he helped himself to a banana which he aimed at her as if it were a gun, and sulked.

  Before leaving for a meeting, Natalie had made a fuss of him but back in the room time dragged. He tried to read a book but put it down. Flew his model Spitfire. Wandered around switching on lights. Picked the book up again and threw it on the bed. Went into the small bathroom. The taps on the washbasin were different, and he turned on a tap and kept turning until it came away in his hands. Water bubbled out the top, thwarting his efforts to fix it. Oh well, serves them right if it floods the place, he thought.

  With an exaggerated sigh, he returned to the bedroom. When was she due? There was no one to talk to. Surely, they wouldn’t object if he visited the garden, and while there, maybe he could stick his head out of the gate. If they expected him to take lessons, this might be his only chance to explore. They would scold him if caught, but it was better to have done something than nothing. Perhaps he should read his book, but the idea persisted, and he had to scratch the itch. A quick look outside and then he’d return prepared to behave himself. Would be only seconds. No one need know. He closed the door behind him. As he approached the glass door to the terrace, the sun momentarily prevented him from identifying the figure approaching, and he froze in fear.

  ‘You come for more food,’ the plump woman asked in her broken English.

  ‘No, no,’ he blurted. ‘I, I left my book out there. Can I please get it?’

  She looked him over as if judging whether he had put on weight since breakfast. ‘Si, si.’ She held it open for him. He watched her walk away, talking and chuckling to herself.

  The ground was flat and uninspiring, and the grass coarse with patches baked brown by the sun. There was nothing to see apart from the high fence, but beyond looked worth exploring. He wandered out, looking around, and expected at any moment to hear Natalie calling ‘cheri, cheri’. Picking up a stick, he threw it close to the gate and sauntered over. As he neared the exit, a man in a white tunic and blue checked pants pushed it open and rushed past, leaving it to clang shut. To make sure the noise had alerted no one, he picked up the stick and took a surreptitious look. He pressed his face against the wire, wondering if it would leave a pattern on his skin. Sticking his fingers through the gaps, he pulled the wire, surprised at how much give there was. Something inside his head goaded him to go on. What harm was he doing? It’s only a gate, and he would take only a small step over the threshold. He would hold onto the gate, so there was no reason to worry. As his body tingled with excitement, the appeal of the forbidden drove him on. Why not? What could they do? And Natalie would stop them from harming him.

  A chattering parakeet called as he pulled open the gate with a surge of elation. Free! He looked back at the house. Nothing had changed. It was like stepping over a magic boundary into another world. The green bird sat on a branch of a black cherry tree almost twenty yards away, wobbling as it used its long tail feathers to balance. And the constant squawking fascinated him. Mesmerised, he moved closer, but it edged along the branch. As soon as he got near, the bird fluttered to a new perch on another tree as if encouraging him to follow. Worried he might scare it into flight, he held his breath as he followed along a concr
ete path that disappeared around a corner. After a time, the bird tired of the game and flew up through the overhanging branches into a sky of dark clouds that whipped along like sailboats. There would be more birds in the woods, but his fear of snakes prevented him. Thousands could be waiting in the undergrowth to fasten their fangs on a juicy young leg. Now he had forgotten the compound and Natalie and what Mr Grim and Mr Grimmer might say, and he pushed on eager to discover what lay ahead.

  He imagined himself to be a famous explorer. The first to tread this path in an alien land. Did cannibals live in the woods? After each corner, the terrain was identical, and he lost all sense of place. The next corner would be his last, he persuaded himself. Just one look and he’d be back before she returned. The path sloped down to the road, and he had to step off so that the foliage would conceal him as two police cars, blue lights flashing, stood on the road. Four cops were stopping cars and interrogating drivers, and they would make him go back.

  Gripped by fear and a desire to flee, he broke into a run, stumbling through the thick undergrowth. Flashes of his mother and Müller saying they expected her to arrive soon spurred him on as he feared what they might do to her. He would go to find her, and she would tell him how clever he was. He just had to stay parallel to the road while hidden in the trees until he was clear of the area. Then he would follow it to the airport. He giggled again and put a hand over his mouth so as not to alert the policemen. He would be there to meet her when the flight arrived and perhaps Ben might be with her. And he wouldn’t have to return to the compound and boring lessons.

  The undergrowth snatched at his ankles, pulling him down, but he plunged on. Although progress was slow, excitement spurred him on. The trees grew denser until the sound of traffic faded away, and it was hard to tell where the road lay. And the terrain became even more challenging.

  It exploded on him without warning, ominous and threatening. The sky had turned black and was low and pressing down on him and a cold wind whipped through the trees making the branches and leaves sing. A jagged slash of lightning hit the ground nearby spreading out a blue-white light that seemed to freeze everything around him. Then in quick succession, two colossal bangs blew him off his feet. Another mighty crash forced his face into the ground so that he tasted mud. Then a hissing noise. He realised it was rain, hitting him like arrows of steel, ripping through his clothes and causing him to cry out in pain. He pulled himself along, crawling through the undergrowth that tore at his face, before scrambling into a haven amongst the roots of a large tree. Everything raged around him. And the trees appeared to possess a muscular force as they swayed, and the sound of the wind whistled through the leaves as if complaining about this intruder. Frightened and very alone, he covered his head with his arms and buried his face in the earth.

  36

  An insistent rapping awakened Ben from dreams of Nazis and crashing cars and a plane journey that never ended. He glanced at Alena, deep in sleep, and there was no reason to wake her.

  A wide-eyed and red-faced Pickering was even more ruffled than ever having carried on drinking. ‘Things are happening,’ he said. ‘Sort yourself out.’

  Going back in, he caught sight of himself in a full-length mirror and realised he was naked. He dressed quickly before Pickering grabbed his arm and pulled him out into the corridor.

  ‘What about Alena?’ Ben paused by her door so as not to let Pickering into their secret. ‘Leave her to sleep, old man. French want only you at this meeting.’

  Pickering was a big man, and he propelled Ben along the corridor. He opened his door a few inches and peered into the room. ‘Go in, Ben. Want you to meet someone.’ Taking Ben by the shoulders, he manoeuvred him in, then checked outside before closing the door.

  Long brown legs unfolded from a chair as she flashed a coy look of recognition. Her short black hair framed an oval face with full lips, a pinkish, purple colour. High cheekbones and eyes that still had a perpetual questioning expression. Where there had once been a gaucheness, she had matured into a sophisticated woman. Experience had built a self-confidence, and she understood the effect she had on people. All he could remember was their farewell at Grand Rivière.

  Pickering observed them. ‘Ben,’ he stuttered as if intruding on a private moment. ‘I want to introduce you to Ronella Cu…’ His introduction faded as they moved closer until almost touching. Ronnie’s eyes darted over Ben’s face as if confirming it was the man she once knew and her smile grew wider.

  ‘Mwen kontan wè zot,’ she said in a soft voice, which he knew in her native Creole meant she was happy to see him.

  ‘Fancy meeting you here.’ He took hold of her hands and, as she leant in, stared into her hazel eyes that sparkled with little stars as if an inner light was bursting out of her. And he caught her scent. Not from a bottle, just the natural scent of a woman. They kissed.

  Embarrassed, Pickering looked away. And when he glanced back, they were still locked in an embrace.

  Eventually, they stepped apart and she studied him. The intervening years hadn’t been harsh on Ben, she thought. Wavy black hair brushed back, framed a strong forehead admittedly more lined than before. But his eyes sparked with amusement. While she had become hardened and embittered by war, his countenance was open and honest, someone with few regrets.

  ‘Never thought I’d see you again,’ she said, biting her bottom lip, and began to doubt the wisdom of their meeting.

  Feeling guilty that Alena was lying in his bed, he hesitated, and maybe because of that he asked with unintended harshness. ‘What are you up to, Ronnie?’ It sounded confrontational, and he attempted to leaven it with a smile. ‘What’s going on?’

  She inclined her head and rubbed the back of a hand across her lips as though regretting the kiss. ‘You shouldn’t be here.’

  He ignored that. ‘You said you’d never leave Martinique.’

  There was defiance in her voice. ‘The world has changed. I’ve changed. I went back to France to find my father. I needed to know if he’d survived the Nazi invasion…’ She swallowed the rest of the sentence, fearing she would falter if she continued. And so he couldn’t see her grief she covered her face.

  ‘You’re working for the French government now?’

  Regaining her composure, she clasped her hands. ‘Don’t be surprised. I’m no longer a simple island girl.’

  He had never thought her simple. ‘What’s the plan?’

  ‘We’re hunting Nazi criminals to make them pay for their heinous crimes.’

  ‘Revenge?’

  ‘I prefer the word, justice.’

  ‘And you think you’ll get that here?’

  She shook her head wearily. ‘This country is their biggest friend. Many South American countries are harbouring these scum. Here, they’re safe to build a new power base with networks across the world. Despite what you might think, it isn’t over. We’ll be fighting them for a long time. But it’s a different war.’

  ‘You call the shots and give the orders?’

  Not wanting to be close in case it weakened her resolve, she moved away. ‘Why are you here, Ben?’

  He stared for a moment before replying. ‘Self-evident, isn’t it?’ Determined not to let her off the hook, he glanced at Pickering, who coloured. ‘Was it your idea to use the boy as bait?’

  ‘It’s no use blaming Pickering, he was just doing as he was told, apart from ignoring my orders by bringing you here.’

  He felt a dead weight on his chest. ‘I didn’t think you’d be capable of that.’

  Understanding his anger, she nodded, her lips pursed in a straight line.

  He dropped his head and turned away. ‘I can’t understand it. That’s not the Ronnie I knew.’

  ‘I’m not the person you believe you knew. I’ve seen too many things and heard too many secrets.’

  ‘Freddie’s just a boy.’

  ‘I have to catch those bastards. I’ll do anything to stop them.’

  ‘Even if it means putting Fre
ddie and Alena at risk?’

  ‘Ah, her. I wondered when she’d come into it.’

  ‘What’s she got to do with this?’

  ‘I think it’s obvious. But the boy won’t face any harm.’

  ‘He already has.’

  Irritated that he was continuing on this line, she rose, and he could see the transformation in her. Whatever she faced, she was ready to land the first blow. ‘I give you my word; he’ll be safe.’

  Disappointment welled up. Ronnie was different from the girl who visited the afflicted at a hospital for lepers without fear of becoming infected herself. Especially the children and babies because ‘they needed to be held’. At one time, he would have done anything for her. Now he could not pierce her impenetrable shield. She carried the weight of years of war on her shoulders, and there was a coolness about her as if compassion was a weakness she couldn’t allow.

  ‘He’s still in danger.’

  Eyes flaring, she stepped closer, and he wondered if she might strike him. ‘They won’t harm Freddie,’ she insisted. ‘He’s too important to them. Two of the highest ranked Nazis to escape punishment are here in Argentina. They were responsible for the deaths of millions. Heinrich Müller and Dr Josef Mengele are leading the rebuilding of their movement.’

  ‘I know who they are,’ he said, almost in an offhand manner.

  A sour expression spread across her face, annoyed that he had interrupted her. ‘Like cockroaches, the Nazis disappeared through the cracks in the floorboards, but they’re everywhere and, with Freddie as a figurehead to follow, they’re even more dangerous.’

  ‘It’s as though you expect another world war.’

  She laughed, harsh like a saw dragged across metal. ‘Not the way you might imagine. They’ll strike from within. It will be insidious. And one day they’ll attempt to take control, and by then it could be too late. Our goal is simple. Find Müller and Mengele. Stop them while we have the chance and cut off the head of the snake.’