The Schliemann Legacy (21 page)

In his mind, Friedrich could see the face of the Jew bitch that had cut him. She had marred his perfect face for life. In his renewed anger at her and his frustration with his brother, he lashed out at Anton. The blow spun the weaker man backwards and into the worktable. Friedrich watched his brother slump to the floor. Blood leaked onto the cement from a gash on Anton's temple.

"Anton?"

There was no reply. Friedrich clutched his brother close to him and started to cry. Memories of a youth spent in the company of his twin flooded his mind. Anton the meek, Friedrich the protector. He remembered the battles he had fought for Anton and the long nights of talking to help the frightened boy fall asleep. For five minutes, he rocked the limp body in his arms. Finally, Friedrich took a deep breath and eased him back to the floor.

He wiped his eyes and ran out the door, calling loudly for Dausel. The giant man immediately ran down the stairs and into the room. He absorbed the scene in one glance. Friedrich stripped off his uniform and motioned for Dausel to remove Anton's suit.

In twenty minutes, the job was complete. Friedrich Heiden, the SS soldier, lay dead on the floor and the man standing in the rumpled suit had become Ulrich Kadner. Dausel re christened himself as Viktor Bitkowski.

The plan was simple, but effective. The investigators would see a body in an SS uniform, the body of a man with Friedrich Heiden's face and papers. They would assume Anton had killed his brother and fled. The ploy would last long enough to give Ulrich Kadner and Viktor Bitkowski time to escape. However, once they discovered the absence of the blood type tattoo under Anton's left armpit, they would know the corpse was not an SS guard. Then the manhunt for the deserters would begin.

Kadner surveyed the displays set about the underground bunker and wished he could take all of them. He focused on the cases in the center of the room. His brother had said these artifacts had been his favorites - his existence. Kadner knelt next to the body of his brother and took hold of Anton's limp hand. "I will keep these safe for you, my brother. This is my last promise to you. Your treasures will live on, even without you."

He ordered Bitkowski to help him pack Schliemann's treasure into shipping cartons. While looking for a crate, Viktor returned to the main room carrying a bassinet. Without a word, he held it out and pulled back the blanket.

"My nephew," Kadner said. He suddenly remembered the death of Anton's wife in a bombing. "He must have brought him here to keep him safe."

"I'll leave him here on the table," Viktor said.

"No," Kadner said, taking the baby from Viktor.

"We can't take a baby with us, sir," Viktor said, trying to keep respect in his voice. "How can we hope to escape with a baby in our arms?"

"Anton would not leave his son," Ulrich explained. "Anyone who knows him would realize that. We must maintain the fiction of the uniform as long as possible. Even minutes may mean the difference of success or failure. We will take the child."

They put the baby in the waiting truck, along with the treasure. They stopped long enough to pick up supplies for the child and ship the crates to Brazil before travelling on through Austria and into Italy. Hiding with the child was easier than they had imagined. The young boy created the perfect cover. Who would expect two fleeing SS soldiers to escape with an infant in their arms?

After three weeks, a representative from Vatican City approached them. A faction within the Pope's organization, sympathizing with the Nazis and their crusade to rid the world of Jews, had created an underground escape route. Whether Pope Pius XII had knowledge of the secret group, Kadner never discovered nor cared. Regardless, the organization continued to smuggle wanted Nazis to safety long after the war was over.

Kadner, Viktor, and the baby sailed to North Africa aboard the yacht
Djeilan
, a ship belonging to the Countess Marga D'Andurain. In the months to come, the exact route and transportation would also see Eichmann to safety.

The fugitives hid in various countries over the next several months. In the fall of 1943, they arrived in Brazil where they remained in hiding for eight years. During that time, Kadner took the child as his son. Later, fearing the scrutiny of the Israelis, Kadner and Viktor moved on to Colombia.

In the following years, they changed locations several times. Kadner's "son" married and had a baby daughter, Helene. Shortly after the birth, the young man and his wife drowned in a boating accident. The publicity surrounding the deaths attracted too much attention. Again carrying a young child, Kadner and Viktor sought a haven.

Kadner found his protection thanks to the Medellín Cartel.

* * * * *

The old man sat alone in the vault at his jungle compound, gently running his fingers over the coarse material of the black uniform. He had bought it several years ago when he realized that his best years had been spent in the SS. He needed the uniform to remind him of his youth and his great work.

Unfortunately, he could also see his brother similarly clothed, lying on the cold cement floor, blood leaking from his head. Every night, Kadner had kept a vigil, remembering his brother. A part of him had died with Anton. He had refused plastic surgery because he felt it would deny his brother; he could not erase Anton's face from existence.

The old man ran his finger along the scar on his face.

These nightly vigils soothed the rage - almost.

His hatred of the Jew bitch was always present. He wished all Jews dead so he would never be reminded of the slut who caused Anton's death. Someday, he hoped to have revenge for his brother's death.

Then the dreams might leave him, for good.

Chapter 25 - CHOICES

"You don't understand." Katrina sat up and knelt in front of David. Behind her, the lantern created a halo around her head. "I really want to hear more. We Greeks are a curious lot. Unlike most other nations, we aren't afraid to think we might learn something from others. We don't always adopt what we discover, but we sure as hell want to hear about it. A nosy nation, I guess."

"But all I've done is talk about myself. I want to hear about you," David said.

"You read my file. You already know about me." She took his hands in hers. "Besides, you can't leave me with
I became a farmer
."

David sighed and continued.

"When Assi and I finally arrived, I couldn't believe we were actually in Palestine. To my eyes, it was even more beautiful than Assi described. Of course, I was one of the lucky ones. I didn't spend much time in the relocation camps. As soon as the boat ran ashore, we scattered to avoid the British troops who by then had orders to shoot any Jews on sight. Assi and I had to sneak past three patrols on the first night. The British were diligent, but nobody was going to send us back. Even in Majdanek, I had never been as frightened as I was on that first night."

* * * * *

David had heard horror stories of how the British treated illegal Jews and Assi had explained the convoluted politics of Palestine. Within Britain, vocal factions wanted Jews admitted to Palestine while Arabs applied pressure to keep them out. Trapped in a political vise, the British dealt swiftly with the Jews, treating them like invaders. David was young, but he understood the politics. Nevertheless, after failing once, he could not face the frustration of returning to Cyprus. He and Assi traveled inland and eventually discovered a small settlement.

"Wait here," Assi said as they peered through the darkness. He left David and scouted the outer edge of the village. He returned in minutes.

"It's Arab," he told David.

"Are you sure?"

Assi nodded, pulling the boy back over the low ridge. "You can tell from the layout. The Arabs haven't changed in centuries. Take a good look, David. That is why the Jews will settle this land; we embrace change."

Staring back at the village, David thought about Assi's words. He looked forward to and feared seeing his first Arab. From the talk at the camps in Cyprus, these people intended to rid the world of Jews, as the Nazis had. Shuddering, David followed Assi through the night.

The next morning, they came to a refugee center where they merged with the crowds. The shanties and tents reminded David so much of the camps in Cyprus that he almost ran away. Again, only Assi's insistence kept him there. Finally, Assi made contact with Albert Morritt, a man he had corresponded with before the war.

With forged papers, Assi and David joined the man and his wife. The papers listed David as their son and he promptly changed his last name to Morritt. The legal adoption would be years in the future, after the formation of the state of Israel. David regretted abandoning his natural father's name but retained Morritt out of respect and love for his new family.

A farmer from America with Polish ancestry, Morritt had immigrated to Palestine to join a small kibbutz at the edge of the Negev desert. Using methods learned from farming one of the driest sections of the Midwest, he led his small group in the unexplored techniques of desert farming. David worked beside his new parents, watching as the kibbutz used unheard of techniques to claim more and more of the arid ground. Desperation and necessity spawned brilliance among the inexperienced. Though far from self sufficient, the group was beginning to make inroads when the British deserted Palestine. The new country of Israel proclaimed independence.

The next day, the War of Independence began.

* * * * *

Even more than he did the farmers, David idolized the fighters of the kibbutz. Assi and the boy joined the ranks of the Haganah, the illegal bands of Jewish warriors who had defended the kibbutzim when the British ruled. Now, as part of the official Army of Israel, the Haganah fought the invading armies.

The Jews scored their first decisive victory in centuries. Rather than being pushed into the Mediterranean, the Jews expanded the territory that was Israel.

After the war ended, Assi prepared to leave the kibbutz and David longed to follow his older friend. Though he enjoyed the work at the kibbutz, he was not a farmer. The work in the Haganah had left a deep impression on the young man. David had seen too many walk complacently onto the cattle cars and into the gas chambers. He vowed never to give up without a fight. He could not disgrace the memories of his natural parents by becoming a farmer while there remained so much fighting to be done.

David happily obeyed the conscription laws of the new country and enlisted on his eighteenth birthday. He excelled during his three years in the service and planned on a career in the military. Assi, rumpled and unshaven, appeared the day David signed his re enlistment papers.

* * * * *

The two men hugged each other.

"Assi! I never expected to see you here. I have news for you."

Assi looked concerned as he pushed David away. "David, you re enlisted?"

David grinned. Assi swore.

"I can't return to the kibbutz, Assi. I've done well the last three years. More than anyone else, you should understand."

Assi watched the look in David's eyes as the young man pleaded for acceptance. He could see more in those gray eyes than before. The intelligence and determination still burned steadily, but the military had added a discipline, a defined purpose, that had been absent until now. Assi could see little of the innocent ten year old from the rail yards of Majdanek. Of course, after the past years, his own eyes saw life differently, he thought. He smiled and patted David's shoulder.

"I can understand. I only wish I had returned sooner. I came to make you an offer."

The relief on David's face was mingled with curiosity. "Where have you been? What offer?"

Assi took his arm and led him away from the surrounding buildings. "I've been everywhere, David. I'm working with the Mossad. We are the most important service in the country."

David's natural pride in his own branch of the military bristled, but he held it in check as he listened. For the next hour, Assi spoke of the important contributions the Mossad had made, and would make, for Israel. David, remembering past life in the Haganah, soon caught Assi's excitement and was enthralled with the idea of the Intelligence Service.

"
And Moses sent them to spy out the land of Canaan
... Numbers 13:17," Assi quoted as his final argument. "Even Moses knew the importance of intelligence. We will do great work."

"But what is the offer?"

"Oh, that. I thought you might want to join us. I have the authorization to offer you a position. I should say, I had the authorization - until you signed your re enlistment papers."

David's shoulders slumped. In his mind, he saw himself working beside Assi on a mission vital to the safety of Israel. Assi clapped the younger man on the shoulder. "Come, little brother. We will go and see your commander."

Assi went to David's commanding officer and, with his mysterious new power, had the papers withdrawn. David left the camp the next day and accompanied Assi to the Mossad's new training facilities outside Haifa.

Since many old Haganah members staffed the new Mossad, David saw many familiar faces. As with the military, he excelled in his training and pushed himself to the limit of his mental and physical ability. In three years, David spoke seven languages and began his travels throughout the world.

* * * * *

David shifted positions, sliding down to lie on the blanket. "The desire to fight for my new country was part of the reason I joined the Mossad, but I could have done that in the army. There was more to it. The constant threat of war does something to a person. Knowing your enemies surround your country can make you either bitter or dedicated. On the battlefield, you are fighting a faceless foe, especially with today's technology. However, in the Mossad, I could face the enemy on his own ground. The battle is with the brain, not the rocket launcher.

"Then, there are the children in the kibbutz. You have no idea how satisfying it is to see them grow strong and healthy. They come from such varied cultures. Just overcoming the language problem is difficult, but they do it. They work so hard. I would hate to see them destroyed in sight of their goals. If, through my work with the Mossad, I could sway a battle or prevent a terrorist strike, I'd know I was doing something truly important."