The Hunt

7

The trauma that Jaeger’s wife had endured had been horrific. She had been subjected to three years of unspeakable psychological and physical torment at Kammler’s hands, and had come back a shadow of her former self.

She was still undergoing various tests, but no one doubted that she had PTSD – post-traumatic stress disorder, a debilitating psychological illness caused by an overburden of horror. While she had recovered physically, the mental scars went far deeper.

Jaeger had endeavoured to be patient, sympathetic and upbeat; to put up with the rage and the outbursts of moody violence.

But in truth it had taken its toll.

He was just glad that Luke and their newly adopted son, Simon, were at a state-run boarding school in the countryside, and so shielded from their mother’s more extreme outbursts.

Simon Chucks Bello, an orphan from the East African slums, had played a key role in defeating Kammler and neutralising his Gottvirus. Luke had always wanted a brother, and as Simon had no parents, the Jaeger family had decided to adopt him.

But right now, Ruth needed space in which to heal and Jaeger had been in desperate need of a break – hence his spur-of-the-moment visit to the Berghof.

As he sat there on the hotel patio, he let the serenity of the place and its breathtaking beauty seep into him. It was the last thing he had ever expected: to find solace where Hitler had orchestrated so much evil.

Another thought struck him as he ran his eye over the dramatic folds of the forested hills. How could anyone have looked out over all of this – over the stunning Untersberg Mountains – and planned the mass murder of so many?

It was inconceivable.

Yet it had happened.

His mind was drawn back to the present by a polite cough. He turned to find Andrea with the dinner menu.

‘No sign of your uncle yet?’ she queried. ‘He will be joining you? If not, he can take dinner in his room. He must be tired after the tunnels. Such a wonderful man. How old is he, if you don’t mind me asking?’

‘Ninety-five… going on twenty-one,’ Jaeger quipped. ‘Don’t worry, he’ll make dinner. I’ve just ordered us beer with schnapps chasers. Uncle Joe wouldn’t miss it for the world.’

Andrea smiled. ‘You have heard about this new discovery? It is all over the news. An Austrian film-maker has just uncovered an entirely unknown Nazi tunnel system not so very far away.’

‘Really? They tunnelled everywhere, didn’t they?’

‘So it seems. But what has made the headlines is what may be hidden there. Apparently this was a top-secret Nazi weapons facility. It is where they concealed the most advanced war machines.’

Andrea reached for a newspaper, handing it to Jaeger. He ran his gaze over the newsprint. ‘Secret Nazi discoveries,’ he mused. ‘Always make for good headlines.’

Andrea smiled. ‘Indeed.’

It was then that a familiar name caught his eye: SS-Oberstgruppenführer Hans Kammler.

‘I’m curious,’ he remarked. ‘What does it say there, about General Kammler?’

Andrea read aloud, translating as she went: ‘Found: Hitler’s secret plant. Vast underground complex where Nazis worked on top-secret weapons systems… The entire seventy-five-acre complex was the brainchild of SS General Hans Kammler, who recruited scientists to work on a secret end-of-war weapons programme… Austrian film-maker Andreas Sulzer said the site is “most likely the biggest secret weapons facility of the Third Reich”. Kammler, who drew up the plans for the crematoriums and gas chambers at Auschwitz, was also in charge of Hitler’s V-weapons programmes. Experts say the Nazis may have been developing a variant of the V-2, with a weapon of mass destruction as its warhead.’

Jaeger shook his head. ‘Crazy stuff. I wonder how much truth there is to it.’

‘Well, it’s at St Georgen an der Gusen, which is not so far from here. Maybe two hours’ drive. Why not go see for yourself?’

Jaeger nodded pensively. He couldn’t deny that he was curious. The possibility that General Kammler had cooked up some last-ditch Nazi super-weapon, and that it had remained hidden until today, was intriguing.

‘I’ll talk it through with Uncle Joe.’ He spied a figure over Andrea’s shoulder. ‘Talk of the devil, here he is!’

Uncle Joe moved across the patio, a shock of white hair above beady eyes, the thin cane of a walking stick his only concession to age. If Jaeger reached ninety-five and had half Joe’s vitality and spirit, he’d be happy.

Together they talked over the St Georgen discovery. They were scheduled to leave for the UK the following morning, but Jaeger figured he could stretch it for another forty-eight hours. They could dedicate tomorrow to visiting the secret caves, followed by the long drive home.

It would be punishing, but doable. Uncle Joe might not be up to all the walking involved, but he could always park himself at a local bar or restaurant in St Georgen.

By the time they had finished eating, they had firmed up their plans.

Jaeger felt a certain thrill of excitement at the proposition – General Kammler’s legacy would always hold a dark fascination for him – but he also experienced a twinge of trepidation. He’d promised to collect Ruth from the clinic just as soon as he was back in the UK. Postponing it by forty-eight hours – well, there was no knowing how she would react.

Ruth Jaeger could be explosively unpredictable these days.