Sybilla gave a half-smirk. “Herwig Weber, of course, which is exactly my point! He’s in Buenos Aires!”
“Aaah!” exclaimed Tiny, grinning broadly while at the same time tapping the side of his nose and winking. “A little bird called Priebke has let me into a secret.” He was nodding knowingly.
“Tiny,” said Sybilla, impatience clear in her voice, “I am at this moment looking around for something heavy to hit you with. What have you heard, what’s going on?”
“Well, madam,” said Tiny trying to look and sound serious, without really achieving it, “it seems that Herr Weber is totally smitten with you, so much so that he is coming down next weekend, ostensibly to ski, but in reality, to see the love of his life again.” A large smirk spread across his rugged face.
Sybilla was serious. “Is this for real?”
“Swear to God!”
Sybilla was quiet for some time, clearly turning the information over in her mind. Finally, she said, “And you think I should capitalise on his … infatuation?”
“It’s a one-off chance.”
“Tiny, are you suggesting I should—”
“Whoa! Hold it right there, lady, I’m not suggesting anything, that would be way out of line. You are an experienced MI5 agent. How you process and handle the information I have given you is entirely your business. I wouldn’t presume to interfere.”
They skied the following morning, but Sybilla was distracted, her mind on other things. On the boat journey back to Bariloche she barely talked, but as Tiny was tying up his launch, she spoke quietly but decisively.
“You know, Tiny, you’re right. This is a one-off chance!”
The following week flew by at a frenetic rate as Sybilla tried to manage three separate classes in the same classroom. Overall, she was pleased with the results, but by Friday afternoon, she was exhausted. As she left the school, she found Herwig Weber waiting at the gate.
“Oh, Herwig!” she exclaimed, feigning surprise and planting a kiss on his cheek. “How lovely to see you, are you down for the skiing?”
“Yes, of course,” he said, trying to sound nonchalant, but barely succeeding, “but I couldn’t come here without visiting you. I was hoping you would have dinner with me tonight?”
“There is nothing I would rather do!” lied Sybilla. She was worn out after her busy week and would have liked nothing better than to crawl into bed. And after a delicious meal and a few drinks, that’s exactly what she did do—with Herwig Weber!
They spent the weekend together skiing, and for the next two weeks the only time she was out of his presence was when she was in school. Herwig was an attractive man and an attentive lover, but Sybilla couldn’t help feeling sordid. She was using this man and did not have any real feelings towards him. This wasn’t like the passionate fling she had had with Hess on the boat journey down—that had been beautiful and spontaneous. What she was engaged in now was neither.
Sybilla would have ended the affair early on, except for one thing. Weber was a talker, particularly after sex.
He often alluded to the work of the Kameradenwerk. He was clearly very proud of his achievements in that respect, and frequently talked about some of the Nazis who had travelled down the ratline—some of whom Sybilla had already met—but no mention of Hitler.
After two weeks without gaining the information she required, Sybilla decided she would have to broach the subject. It was Saturday, and Weber was due to return to Buenos Aires on Monday morning. As they lay together after having sex, Sybilla sighed. “What a beautiful place this is, Herwig, what a shame the Führer couldn’t have lived out his days here. He would have enjoyed it, it’s so like Bavaria.”
“True, mein Liebling, but it was not to be. Müller tried to persuade him, but he was adamant he would not run away. He died in the bunker.”
“Oh, that is so tragic!” said Sybilla with real feeling. It meant her quest was at an end, and worse, she had just wasted two weeks. “I thought that was the case, but I just wanted to believe that he had escaped and was safe somewhere.”
“It’s not all bad news. Müller extricated Frau Hitler, Eva Braun, and initially brought her here.”
Sybilla sat bolt upright. Of course! The submarine, the man fitting Müller’s description and the plump woman with spectacles and short brown hair. That was Müller and Eva Braun! Hindsight is a wonderful thing.
Aloud she said excitedly, “How wonderful. Herwig, can I meet her? It would be such an honour.”
“Alas, no, she didn’t stay very long. She was heavy with child and wanted to give birth in the Fatherland. She went back with Müller. I understand that she did give birth and that mother and child are being looked after and protected by the Vril Maidens.”
“Oh, Herwig,” said Sybilla leaning across and laying on his chest, kissing him over and over, “this is such good news. The Führer has an heir! We will see Germany rise again!”
Escape
On the Sunday, Sybilla made the excuse that she really needed to do her preparation for the following week’s lessons at the school, which in fact was quite true. She wanted to be alone with her thoughts. She was tired of Weber and had what she wanted from him; consequently, she had no further use for him.
A little after midday, she was startled by a loud insistent rapping on the door of her hotel room. She paused and sat quietly, listening. The rapping was repeated even louder.
Quickly she moved to the door and opened it a crack but was nearly knocked off her feet by the force of Tiny barging it open and rushing in, clearly agitated.
“Pack your gear, we’re leaving,” he said breathlessly. “You’ve been made, we have to get out! You’ll need your cold weather gear—we’ll have to go over the pass to Chile.”
Too much of
