Стив Берри - The Kaiser's Web--A Novel

“And what was the house we just saw?”

“A place for the old ones to enjoy. There are only a few left, but they still came here from time to time. Especially on April 20.”

“Hitler’s birthday,” he said.

She nodded. “You know your history.”

“I know when I’m being played. And we’ve been played from the start. But we allowed it so we could move this along.”

“I ended that.”

He chuckled. “No. You just started a new tune for us to dance to.”

“Herr Malone, I was asked to stage what happened at the hacienda you visited. And I did. I admit that.”

“Using some of the books from the schlöss ?” he asked.

The old woman nodded. “That and the banner. Much of the old memorabilia was stored in the basement. But that is now gone, too.”

“You don’t sound sad,” Cassiopeia said.

“It is like losing a cancer.”

He agreed.

“I was told to spur you along from the hacienda. Which I did, when these young men fired on the dwelling. I was told to provide some photographs in an inconspicuous manner. Those were left for you to find on the wall inside. They are of Bormann and Braun. But they were not taken here. The child you saw with Bormann is a stranger. Some letters were to be supplied to reinforce my statements that no son of Martin Bormann exists.” The old woman smiled. “But I changed that part.”

“You left those letters in the car last night?”

She nodded. “They were important for you to read. The Kaiser has no idea they exist, nor does he know that Eva Braun and I corresponded secretly for many years. My brother facilitated that on his end in Africa. She needed a friend. Someone to confide in, and I served that need.”

Cassiopeia slipped off the backpack and showed the scrapbook. “You wanted us to find this, too?”

Ada nodded. “I had the Kaiser’s spy killed and left there as a message to Pohl’s man. I assumed you would come back, looking for me, then search the premises, so I left that for you to find.”

“You want it back?” he asked.

“No. Take it. You will need it.”

“And the financial records?” Cassiopeia asked.

“Those they definitely wanted you to find, so you were led right to them. The chancellor’s investigator was murdered to add emphasis to your search. The dagger was obtained from another repository and used as the murder weapon. You would be shocked at how many of the Nazis’ things remain on this continent.

“Unfortunately, there’s more than enough in those financial records to implicate the current chancellor of Germany with the stink of the Third Reich. They are not fake. It is all true, and the chancellor will have to deal with that sad reality.” She paused. “Can we just say that, for me, things have altered. Where once I aided the man who likes to be called Kaiser, that is no longer the case. I am taking a great personal risk in helping you, one that may eventually cost me my life. And as you’ve just seen, your lives are also in danger. But I have been told that you both are more than capable of handling yourselves.”

“And who told you that?” Cassiopeia asked.

“Someone who knows.”

“This one is the queen of cryptic,” he said to Cassiopeia.

“Subtlety is a lost art,” Ada said. “There is another matter, though.”

She motioned and one of the younger men handed her a cell phone, which she passed to Cotton. He saw the image of a man. Mid-fifties, tanned skin, a Vandyke beard dusted with streaks of silver-gray.

“His name is Josef Engle,” the old woman said. “Remember the face. He is the Kaiser’s right hand.” She paused. “He’s the one who killed my friend Isabel. He killed the investigator the chancellor sent to Santiago, too. The man I had killed last night worked for Engle. It was Engle who paid Vergara to kill you both. Once he knows that effort failed, I assure you, he will move to eliminate you again.”

He locked the man’s features into his brain.

“My father served the Brown Eminence until Bormann left in 1947. I never saw Bormann or Evi again. They became my brother’s responsibility. My father continued to deal with the needs of those who had fled here as a refuge. Bormann created many accounts at many banks, and my father was the trustee of them all after he left, responsible for maintaining the balances and disbursing what was needed. Regular reports were made to Africa until my father died, and Bormann stayed involved with all major decisions. But once my father died, I was placed in charge, and I chose to make no more reports. That was never challenged. I assumed Bormann was dead by then, too. I have been der regler of those moneys for a long time. Senor Donoso, whom you met yesterday at the bank, is a man of questionable morals who works for whoever might pay him. Vergara has been his benefactor for many years.”

“So you allowed those financial records to be found?” Cassiopeia asked.

The old woman nodded. “To stop that would have stopped all this from moving forward. I am sorry that Chancellor Eisenhuth will pay a price, but it is a price long in coming. It is time she knew the truth.”

“How do you know Theodor Pohl?” Cotton asked.

“He and I have been associated for many years. From time to time he would ask for favors. Those occurred mainly when people came here investigating the past. We’ve had all sorts. Governments, bounty hunters, writers, journalists, moviemakers, even an American television series that dealt with a wild theory that Hitler somehow lived a long peaceful life here. We dissuaded them all and sent them off chasing shadows.”

“To protect the money?” he said.

The old woman shook her head. “To protect the past. The last problem came a few years ago. Two American agents. Which led to Isabel’s murder. I knew then that I would one day make the Kaiser pay for that callous act. And, make no mistake, Juan Vergara participated in Isabel’s murder. He is likewise responsible. They will all pay.”

“There’s a lot of bitterness in you,” Cotton said.

“It comes from a life of poor choices.”

“What do you want us to do?” Cassiopeia asked.

“Follow the letters I have given you,” Ada said. “They will guide you in Africa.”

“Why should we believe anything you’re saying?” he asked.

“I just saved your lives. If I wanted you dead, you would be.”

He did not doubt that observation.

“Why did you and your brother never reconnect?” Cassiopeia asked.

“I never said we didn’t.”

“So is your brother alive?” he asked.

“The answer to that question awaits you in Africa. Let me say that there is far more at stake here than you realize. When Pohl decided to entice Marie Eisenhuth to come here and uncover those financial records, he never imagined the doors he was opening. He never comprehended the extent of the hate and resentment that awaited him. As arrogant pedantic fools often do, he thought himself the smartest and the cleverest. He wove a web that has now been tangled. It only remains for the two of you to untangle it. To do that or not is your choice, and yours alone.”

The old woman paused.

“Choose wisely.”

They were taken by boat across Lago Girasol, then by car the 120 miles back to the dock they’d left from earlier. Their jeep was still there, and they used it to drive to the chalet. Two police vehicles were parked out front. That meant the carabineros and Vergara were there. They approached the building with caution, peering through the rear deck’s plate-glass windows to take stock of the inside. Surely their appearance was going to be a surprise. Particularly if Ada was to be believed and Vergara had been involved with the attempt on their lives.