The Angel of Justice: Mission To The Past

Copyright

© 2018 Michael Ledoux

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

 

 

Prologue

It was a beautiful clear day on April 1st, 1944 in Lower Saxony, northern Germany. The rays of the afternoon sun shined gracefully down on the Bergen-Belsen Nazi concentration camp. The prisoners walked about their camp duties deadened to the beauty of the heavens above and mostly consumed by their dark reality below.

The guards up in their towers occasionally peered down through their Karabiner rifles at prisoners throughout the camp, but the sluggish comatose movements of the prisoners made mindful observation tedious.  But they did derive entertainment from watching certain guards mistreat their prisoners. Especially the women’s guard Gertrude Sommer.  She was young and attractive with long blond hair and a sturdy physique, which was accentuated by her crisp Nazi uniform, knee high leather jack boots and a cellophane whip. She was often accompanied by her two favorite weapons, a Luger pistol, and her German Shepard attack dog.

On this afternoon, the guards watched Gertrud as she tormented a young woman in the yard. She had the woman down on all fours, while her German Shepard channeled Gertrud Sommer’s hatred by growling, barking and snapping at the helpless young female prisoner. The woman’s fellow prisoners paused in their work or stopped in mid-stride across the yard to witness this most unforgivable display of cruelty. Sommer half-heartedly restrained her dog, as the female prisoner cowered in a protective crouch crying mercilessly to stop the tormenting. For whatever reason, Sommer unholstered her Luger and shot the young women in the head. She then yelled at two other female prisoners nearby to drag the young woman’s body behind one of the barracks, where the legs of many victims could be seen just near the back corner of the building. The young women’s body laid uncovered and exposed next to many others.

Fifteen days later the British 11th Armored Division rolled-in to liberate the camp. Word had come in advance of their arrival which allowed many of the guard staff to escape. However, most of the Nazi’s from the camp who perpetrated these crimes against humanity would eventually be tracked down. They were brought to trial; some went to prison and others were hung. Gertrude Sommer, however, eluded justice and disappeared into the post war World. There was now a debt on the books of justice waiting to be settled and in thirty years there would be a possibility of it being served.

 

Part 1- The Genesis of a Hunter

“Do right, and God’s recompense to you will be the power of doing more right.”

Frederick W. Robertson

 

 

Chapter 1

It was May 1975, on a sunny weekend afternoon in the Westmount section of Montreal, 19-year-old Ian Richard was lying on the living room sofa watching a documentary on World War II, specifically about the Holocaust.

Ian was always interested in war films and documentaries as both his parents served in World War II. Ian’s Belfast born mother, Hatty McAlister was with the British Women’s Auxiliary Air Force (WAAF) and spent her war years as a Morse code operator. She monitored German transmissions, coded out messages and helped Lancaster bombers land in darkness or poorly visible conditions. She was stationed on several bases, but mainly at RAF Chicksands in Bedfordshire, England. This site operated as a SIGINT collection site, intercepting German Morse code transmissions and sending this material to the Government Code and Cypher School at Bletchley Park. During Ian’s high school years his mother taught him Morse-Code and Ian became quite accomplished in transmitting and transcribing Morse code signals. He eventually qualified for a Ham Radio operators license and shared this activity with his mother.

But Ian didn’t know too much regarding his father’s experiences. He did know his father was assigned to the British 11th Armored Division, but when probed for additional information about the war his father just talked in generalities, about his training and equipment and about some of his friends. He also knew that French Canadians at that time unfairly took criticism for not joining up early in the War effort relative to the English-speaking population, but his dad and his two uncles joined up as early as the rest and all served bravely from 1939-1945. His father initially joined the 1st Canadian Parachute Battalion and from that experience introduced Ian to parachute jumping during Ian’s high school years.

Both parents had an influence on Ian, relative to their self-sacrifice during the war years and also the transfer of knowledge and experience they had gained. Not too many of Ian’s peers were qualified parachute jumpers and proficient in Morse Code.

The subject of the TV documentary was now focused on the Bergen-Belsen concentration camp as the narrator talked about the British 11th Armored Division being the Allied liberators of the camp on April 15th, 1945.   Ian immediately focused his attention on the documentary and about one minute later they showed a photograph of the liberators and front and center was Ian’s father. He immediately called for him. André was upstairs cleaning the house and sensing something of importance quickly came downstairs.

“Dad! This is about your unit and I think I just saw a photograph of you standing next to three young children in this concentration camp!” Without saying a word, André sat down next to Ian on the couch with his attention transfixed on the television. The narrator continued,

“It was here at Bergen-Belsen Allied forces of the British and Canadian 11th Armored Division walked into a nightmare. The camp held sixty thousand prisoners, thirteen thousand of them received the liberators as corpses lying unburied at one end of the camp. The overcrowding, lack of food and poor sanitary conditions had caused outbreaks of typhus, tuberculosis, typhoid fever and dysentery. Thirty-five thousand died within a couple of months before and after the liberation of the camp”.

His father was deeply affected; as his eyes watered he tried to conceal his face from Ian. This was his secret, something he did not want to face again or even have his family face the reality of his experience. Now it was front and center, exposed to Ian and again to the World. When the documentary ended, André turned off the TV and engaged Ian with the frightening and sorrowful details. He told Ian what he saw as they entered the camp.

“We entered through the gates on several A15 Crusader tanks, braced for a firefight with German guards but none were there. We saw evidence they had quickly left not more than a few hours before our arrival. The first thing I noticed about the camp was the smell in the air, it was the worst smell I had ever experienced… it was full of death and disease. Then we saw them, the prisoners walking slowly towards us. They were emaciated and wearing shreds of prisoner clothing. They started speaking to us, in many languages. They asked if we were Americans, but told them we were Canadians and British. I really didn’t know what this place was. We just thought it was a prison and then our CO told us these were called Concentration camps, where religious and political enemies of the Nazis were sent to work and die. The prisoners were so gaunt and unstable we could easily observe they were suffering from starvation, exhaustion, and disease. Then we noticed around the backside of one of the buildings, corpses stacked like cordwood five feet high. To this day, it was the most inhumane sight I have ever witnessed. Over the next several days we had set up a mobile hospital facility and food services, yet, many of the men, women, and children died even after all our care and attention. It was heartbreaking to see them survive the cruelty of their Nazi captures and then die under our care. And I do recall having a picture taken of me with three young girls from the camp. This was several days after its liberation. I always wondered about their lives.”

Ian’s father also explained about the British military tribunal at Luneburg, Germany for the war crimes committed at Bergen-Belsen. The location of the tribunal was within several miles of the camp. He told Ian the Nazi commandant Josef Kramer and 44 other staff members were brought before the Tribunal on September 17, 1945.

André also discussed Israeli’s efforts in hunting down the many escaped war criminals. The Mossad and Shin Bet, with the guidance and help of Jewish Nazi hunter Simon Wiesenthal and other private individuals, had some success in bringing those war criminals that somehow evaded trial at Nuremberg and other tribunals to justice. Unfortunately, Cold War politics constituted under the U.S. program Operation Paperclip inhibited capture as the United States and the Soviets vied for a competitive advantage from these sources of intelligence. Yet, certain government agencies and private individuals were not deterred by these Cold War obstacles and continued their efforts in hunting down these criminals. But however miraculous the capture was of Adolf Eichmann in 1960 by the Israelis, this much-publicized event infuriated Nazi safe-havens, like Argentina. The reality was extraction and extradition of war criminals from within safe-haven borders were becoming increasingly difficult. Their borders via land, air or sea were becoming increasingly restrictive, especially to Israel. Private pursuers with support from the state-sponsored intelligence agencies seemed to be more effective and operated under the radar,

During this discussion, Ian started thinking about those private individuals who were hunting Nazis. Their efforts told the World that crimes against humanity would not be forgotten. Finding war criminals was an activity that balanced the books of justice. He admired the people who made finding these criminals a priority in their lives and understood how their actions served the victims and their families in their quest for retribution. It was truly a meaningful vocation existing only to cleanse the World of post-war crimes waiting for atonement.

Ian started to consider how he could become involved in this effort. Was it something he could donate some of his time to or would it be an all-encompassing endeavor? It would certainly offer a different life trajectory from his current one of University and hockey. It might also be a chance to have a more meaningful connection with his parent’s experiences of service and sacrifice, which his generation either avoided or didn’t have the right opportunities for participation.

The facts, details, and emotions which had been locked-away deep inside André had surfaced through this serendipitous convergence of past and present, and it all would profoundly affect the course of Ian’s life.

 

Chapter 2

Ian would be graduating from Loyola High School in Montreal at the end of May. He was an exemplary student and a highly recruited athlete. His friendly and outgoing personality enabled him to make friends easily. Many of his peers admired his leadership qualities. He was a handsome mixture of Irish and French roots and was a striking figure at six-foot-one inch and one-hundred and eighty-five pounds. But apart from all his physical attributes and mental agility he had one attribute which would eventually determine his future: inquisitiveness. Unlike many of his peers, he was fascinated by family genealogy, history, and World affairs. This is probably why his father’s wartime experience resonated so strongly with him.

All his friends were excited about graduating and starting the next stage of their lives. There were constant parties and good times as it was a final chance to be together before they went their separate ways. Ian thought he should have been more excited especially since he was awarded an ice hockey scholarship to Boston University, which was a great opportunity to play for one of American’s best collegiate ice hockey programs and would provide more exposure to the NHL scouts. A chance to achieve his dream of getting drafted and playing in the National Hockey League.

But he was restless and consumed by his father’s experience at Bergen-Belsen and man’s menacing behaviors. This new interest affected his focus on hockey and education. Their importance faded in his mind relative to doing something more substantial in life.

Though he was a pretty sociable guy he also felt different in his thinking and a bit distant from his peers as if they weren’t on the same page or interested in the same things anymore. Their interests and concerns were a distraction from what was really important. He wasn’t so concerned about who was dating whom and party planning or Spring Break adventures. He was bothered by the things happening around him in the World. He read the major papers and had a subscription to the Economist. He knew what was going on in the World and he didn’t like a lot of it.

One World event which greatly affected him was happening in Cambodia. The Khmer Rouge under their leader Pol Pot was committing genocide against his own people. It was actually through art Ian became even more passionate about the situation. Late one evening he watched a special performance by the Royal Ballet of Cambodia on the CBC. The women were so beautiful and graceful in their coordinated slow movements, the extraordinary bending of their hands and fingers, their beautiful gold headdresses, and their gold embroidered silk skirts.  His heart broke at the end of the performance when he saw a message displayed indicating they were all killed under the current Khmer Rouge regime. It all made him angry and disappointed with humanity. He felt guilty having such a safe and comfortable life while others were starving, being killed and just barely surviving only a few hours’ plane ride from where he lived. The current situation in Cambodia and the continued effects of the Holocaust were catalysts in driving Ian’s future course in life.

Over the next several weeks Ian immersed himself in all the articles and books he could find about past World atrocities and those guilty of war crimes. Did they get punished? He read about Hitler’s “Final Solution” and all about the death camps at Belzec, Sobibor, Treblinka, Auschwitz-Birkenau (part of the Auschwitz complex), and Majdanek. He also read about the Nazi’s mobile efforts using paneled trucks with exhaust pipes reconfigured to pump poisonous carbon monoxide gas into sealed spaces, killing those locked within. They were designed as an efficient and cost savings method of murdering their fellow man.

The many creative ways and efforts of genocide against people of different ethnicities, religious or political persuasions made Ian feel that the safe and free people of the World had a moral obligation to counter such evil actions.

Days later, at the right moment, he brought up Bergen-Belsen again with his father. Due to his extensive knowledge of the aftermath and all the participants, he wanted to know if all those responsible for these crimes were eventually brought to justice.

“Dad, can you tell me if anyone from Bergen-Belsen went unpunished and are still at large?”

“Yes I can, of the forty-four accused at the Tribunal, twelve were executed by hanging and the others were given various jail sentences. But there was one person found guilty in absentia, one who was considered the worse of them all, she was a woman named Gertrud Sommer.”

Gertrude Sommer was only twenty-one years of age in 1944 but had quickly achieved the rank of Oberaufseherin or Senior SS Overseer. She rose to this position while at Birkenau, where she was in charge of the supervision of thirty thousand women prisoners. Mostly Polish and Hungarian Jews. In the last two years of the war, she had been transferred to Bergen-Belsen, where she exhibited uninhibited acts of torture and terror.

Survivor’s testified she was sadistic and derived sexual pleasure from beating women prisoners with her cellophane riding crop. They also testified she had beaten women prisoners to death and shot others in cold blood. One of the most serious charges against her was she selected prisoners for the gas chambers at Birkenau. Finally, there was a gruesome claim she had lampshades made out of the skins of women prisoners.

She went by many nicknames… ‘Beautiful Beastess’, ‘Blond Angel of Death’, ‘Blond Angel from Hell’ and ‘Hyena of Auschwitz’. She was an attractive woman, and it was said she had many affairs with the high-ranking concentration camp officials including Josef Mengele the camp doctor of Auschwitz and Bergen-Belsen commandant Josef Kramer.  She embodied all the evils of the Holocaust, yet she was living freely somewhere in the World. Which really bothered Ian.

He started to become a bit more detached from his friends and their spring activities. He often sat on a campus hillside under the shade of a tree watching the school’s baseball team practice, listening to their distance voices and the popping of balls off bats.

He entered into a deep thoughtful trance, switching his mind between having a meaningful life and seeking justice for those who suffered war atrocities. This constant swirl of thoughts mixed into one unified direction. He thought, “Maybe this is my opportunity to do something meaningful in life; to seek retribution for others and be a positive force in bringing people wanted for war crimes to justice, people who have defiled humanity.”

Ian’s newfound interest meant a tectonic shift away from his attention on sports, parties, girls (not always in that order), and also affected his personality. Once extremely extroverted, verbose and amusing, he suddenly became a bit of a recluse, preferring to be more alone than to be with friends. They noticed and were concerned he was having some emotional or psychological issue. He provided all sorts of excuses without divulging his possible future intentions, which would then probably prove to his friends it was indeed psychological.

They eventually left him alone and he would spend a little time each day in the school’s chapel. He was once a very dedicated Roman Catholic, so careful not to break any of the 10 Commandments, but during his senior year, he moved away from his church into a more “Religious-Free” spiritualism. He saw how flawed Religions were in their doctrines and misguided treatment of their fellow man and women. But he did admire their grass root elements; the priests in El Salvador helping local communities with a clean water project or aiding their parishioners with their fights against tyranny.  He was more comfortable with religion’s simple presence in a community, like his school’s chapel.

The school’s chapel was a refuge for Ian. It was a space in which he could seriously consider his moral obligations to the World and decide if they would be a reality or a fantasy.  The chapel was small with a humble single-aisle construction and arched ceiling frame. There were 4 small stained glass windows reflecting rays of light from the outside World into the solitude of the space. One would think it was perhaps non-denominational based on its non-ornate simplicity. It was also very peaceful. Few of his classmates ever set foot in this place of worship except if required.

His chapel visits allowed time to think more in-depth about his involvement in bringing people like Gertrude Sommer to justice. Sommer started to become his primary person of interest. She was a good candidate as she would still be at a relatively active age and enjoying her life and most likely feel her crimes were forgotten due to the passage of time, providing her a false sense of security.  Though she probably considered her so-called war crimes just carrying out her military duty.

Ian knew it would be just a fantasy if he thought he would simply find her and then make a long-distance phone call to the Mossad for extracting her to Israel for trial. He was overwhelmed with how to start, what he should know and whom he could get assistance from.

He started to seriously think about all the logistics, research, connections, funding, and ways of hunting down a war criminal. He felt the fantasy evolving into a reality. The more time he put into understanding the undertaking the more he convinced himself he was capable of doing this kind of work. He started becoming more consumed with the idea and less enthusiastic about attending University and playing ice hockey. He felt truly serious and committed to the idea of going down this path. But he needed more time and thought about delaying his University studies, which unfortunately meant not playing ice hockey in the upcoming season.

He now needed to have a conversation with his family about deferring his starting date at Boston University and forfeiting his ice hockey scholarship, all of which were significant events for a 19-year-old and his parents.

Being the only child of André and Hatty Richard he knew he really had to be careful telling them his thoughts about delaying things. He also knew he couldn’t tell them the real reason for the delay as they would never support such a dangerous venture and would probably think their son was suffering from mental illness. Though deeply affected by the War, they both had accepted the past and fully engaged the mindset of moving forward in life. He knew they would not want him to traverse their past. But he felt he discovered a unique opportunity to make his life more useful and at the same time honor their war efforts and bring long-awaited justice to the World.

He also felt he couldn’t leak his plans to anyone, not even his closest friends as he had a sense his secrecy and anonymity would be called upon at some point in his work and needed to start putting it into practice.

One Sunday morning at the end of May Ian came down for breakfast. His parents, as usual, were having their Earl Grey tea and reading the Sunday Gazette. It was a beautiful spring day in the Westmount section of Montreal. The sun was pouring in through their large kitchen windows which provided a slight view of the St. Lawrence Seaway.

They had a nice house at 4746 The Boulevard in Westmount perhaps due to Andre’s career as a successful surgeon with a specialty in neurology. André had made full use of his GI benefits upon completion of the war and eventually received his medical degree from McGill University.  He gained some notoriety during the late 1950’s and early sixties conducting research work with Dr. Wilfred Penfield on neural stimulation, specifically, the mapping of the sensory and motor cortices of the brain. He was a highly sought after neurologist at the Montreal Neurological Institute and Hospital. Hatty also worked there as an administrator.  They both worked hard and had long tiring days. They loved their relaxing languid style Sundays. Perhaps an unfair time for Ian to broach his plan for deferring university and forfeiting his ice hockey scholarship solely to “travel” the World. Their hardworking and driven lifestyles would probably not encourage such a plan. They would have the impression their son might be taking advantage of his family’s secure position in life and actually be going down the wrong path of the ne’er-do-well son.

Earlier in the week, Ian did hint to his mother he was thinking of doing some different things after graduation and wanted to re-arrange his schedule. She did not take it well. Hatty cited it would be his father who would have a difficult time with any change to his school plans, though Ian felt his overly protective Irish mother was using his father as an excuse. If his parents really knew his intentions, they would never let him go. Ian thought of their lives back in 1939 when they had their talk with their parents about joining the War effort. That was a life-risking undertaking, but it also had the popular support of their nations, and a sense of pride could be taken by their parents, siblings, and friends. Ian’s mission would not have the same support. His dad would probably want him evaluated at his Neurological Institute and his mother would try and lock him in his room.  But he wanted to contribute to the World in a similar way they did, through sacrifice. Doing well at University with a chance to play professional hockey or having a professional career felt underachieving and less meaningful versus what he now wanted to achieve.  So, he proceeded to tell them, but of course, not the whole truth.

“Mum, Dad. Do you have a minute? I want to talk with you about school.”

“Sure Ian, fire away, your mum and I sensed something’s up.”

“Well, I was thinking I would like to defer going to University for one year – though he was thinking it could easily be longer – so I can gain some life experiences in the World which I can’t get from a classroom – He wasn’t lying with that statement -. I was thinking of traveling through some of the countries in South America and …”

“Ian, what about hockey?  You’ll be giving up your scholarship and a chance to “make it” in the sport?”

“Yeah Dad, I love the game, but I guess I’m also realistic, the odds are against me playing professionally and I think I will benefit more from the experiences of World travel versus playing hockey.”

The conversion continued throughout the morning. Eventually, his parents acquiesced to the idea. He knew his Dad would understand, that his mother was using him more for her concerns, but she also eventually gave her consent. He sensed his parents deep-down had some adventurous spirit left in them and were excited for him. Perhaps it made them feel youthful again, to embrace the unknown in life and to take a chance instead of a sure thing. Though if he had divulged his true intentions, their response would have been different, but even if known, he was sure he would not be dissuaded from his new mission in life. Perhaps it was a similar feeling for them when they joined the fight in WWII.

Ian did feel better knowing his parents supported his endeavor, albeit a false one. Over the next few weeks they were very helpful in getting him maps, clothing, travel gear and just making him feel supported. But he wasn’t going on vacation.  He now needed to start doing more intensive research on some of the potential countries Gertrude Sommer could be hiding. He needed to somehow make connections with the organizations entrusted to bringing Nazi war criminals to justice, for their guidance and support or whatever they could offer. Also, he needed to pick up some conversational Spanish or Portuguese and some basic self-defense and survival skills, not entirely sure what he might be up against.

Chapter 3

Ian started his research at McGill University’s library. There he found a vast amount of research and articles on the International Military Tribunal (IMT), Nuremberg Military Tribunals (NMT), Trial of Nazi Conspiracy and Aggression (NCA), and a complete set of the published British war crime trials.  For several weeks, from May through June he endeavored to become an authority on the subject. At one point, he read Hannah Arendt’s controversial 1963 book Eichmann in Jerusalem, which coined the phrase the “banality of evil”.  It suggested Nazi’s were really normal people, but through their weak-mindedness and need to belong, they simply followed orders. Reluctantly he could understand this psychological interpretation but he would not accept it as an excuse. On trial, many of these war criminals said they did not have evil intent or motives to commit such horrors, nor did they feel their actions were immoral.  Their autonomy of choice was abdicated by obeying the commands of their higher-ranking officers. But Hannah Arendt only attended 4 days of Eichmann’s trial, and Ian felt she might have missed hearing Eichmann espouse his anti-Semitic ideology. This ideology, which was nurtured and marshaled by the Nazi’s was perhaps the toxic attitude which was easily manipulated by a simple command. Some historians and philosophers suggest everyone succumbs to the power of the group and hence no one can resist evil once in its midst. But from his studies, he learned some Nazis exceeded their orders, going above and beyond a certain level of violence while others avoided these unrestrained acts of cruelty. So, he believed there was a conscious choice when carrying out violence and cruelty, and the most heinous crimes were conducted by people with strong and perverse ideologies.

Ian also learned about the many agencies involved in hunting down these Nazi’s at large. The Israeli’s national intelligence agency Mossad did a lot of post-war investigation and provided assistance in bringing many wanted Nazis to justice.  Private individuals like Simon Wiesenthal who co-founded the Jewish Historical Information Centre in Linz, Austria, where he helped find missing family members and at the same time build evidence against these wanted Nazis which in-turn provided intel to Mossad. The most famous collaboration resulting in the capture and extraction of Adolf Eichmann from Buenos Aires, Argentina in 1960.

It was perplexing to Ian why so many Nazis made their way to South America. But after further research, he started to understand. Many South American countries (post-war) were ruled by Fascist-style military dictatorships which welcomed these brutal servants of Nazism with few questions asked. He learned that approximately twenty thousand Germans emigrated, perhaps escaped, to Brazil alone between 1945 and 1959.  But how did they get the proper documentation to enter these countries, especially those wanted for war crimes? It turns out they had several areas of support.

Argentine President General Juan Peron sold over 10,000 blank Argentine passports to a group called ODESSA, which was an underground organization set up by SS Officers towards the end of the War which established escape routes and support to Argentina, Brazil and some Middle Eastern countries in the event of the defeat of Germany. The sole purpose was to help SS criminals a way to avoid prosecution for their war crimes. This self-awareness of their crimes and understanding they would be charged for their deeds was further proof they knew what they had done and were indeed guilty of crimes against humanity. Passports were also obtained from supposedly peaceful or neutral entities, like the International Red Cross and the Vatican. Ian’s research showed the German Catholic Bishop Alois Hudal was the contact person in Rome for many fleeing SS men and women.

The summer months were starting. Ian decided to continue the same local job he had last summer with the Town of Westmount painting their elementary school buildings. He really needed as much money as possible for his journey.  Typically, he played in a summer ice hockey league, but his heart and interest were not into playing, it just felt like it would be too much of a distraction. He had too much preparation work to do.

First, he had to decide which country to go to and when to go. But to set the wheels in motion he needed some clue as to the potential whereabouts of Gertrude Sommer. His research didn’t yield any answers. Ian figured out pretty fast he would need to contact the different Nazi-hunting organizations and explain his intentions and hope they might be able to provide some direction and perhaps some in-country contacts. Though, they could also consider a letter from a nineteen-year-old as some kind of hoax or child fantasy.  Ian really needed a way to convey his seriousness in the letter. Perhaps his father’s story would allow them to see his connection and genuine need to be involved. He also emphasized his commitment and seriousness to this objective by deferring his University admissions and forfeiting his ice hockey scholarship.

Ian decided to contact two people for help.  He wrote to Yitzhak Hofi the Director of the Mossad and to Simon Wiesenthal in Vienna, Austria.  Within his correspondence, he sent photographs of his parents from WWII, his Loyola High School graduation photo, and as much background information he could provide them.  Things like his involvement in sports, his personality type, personal relationships, language ability (English and French, unfortunately, no Spanish, Portuguese or German), hobbies (music, playing guitar, singing, acting in plays, photography), and how he learned Morse code from his mother and parachute jumping from his father; things they could possibly leverage in an operation. He knew he wasn’t trying to get a job as a Mossad operations agent, whose backgrounds often included a military career and lots of intelligence training, but he also knew what he was “volunteering” for would require some special abilities and was hoping they could see he might have the right combination of skills to be successful in this line of work.

Two weeks later in Vienna, Austria, a letter came across the desk of Simon Wiesenthal. It was a request for assistance in hunting down the escaped Nazi Gertrude Sommer, who happened to be on Simon’s top ten most-wanted list. Simon was startled by the request coming from such a young man who also came from such an unrelated background without a blood or cultural connection to the Holocaust. His assessment was the young man was sincere in his desire to help and Simon Wiesenthal decided it was worth forwarding the young man’s request on to the Mossad.

About one week later, at the Mossad’s headquarters in Tel Aviv, Julia Horovitz, a secretary to the Mossad’s Director, Yitzhak Hofi, noticed two letters had collected on her desk, one forwarded from Simon Wiesenthal and another addressed directly to Director Hofi, she noticed both were from the same sender. Being a woman who paid attention to coincidences, she promptly brought the letters to Director Hofi.

“Excuse me, Director, I have something interesting here. Simon had forwarded a letter to you from a young man in Montreal. And you also have the same letter separately addressed to you. They happened to show up on my desk at the same time. I have read Simon’s comments and the content of the letter and I think you might want to take a look.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Horovitz, let me see them.”

After a few minutes.

“Hmmm, this is unusual. I don’t think we have ever gotten such a request for support from a young gentile like this. Very interesting though. The connection he has to Bergen-Belsen through his father gives his request some credence. Mrs. Horovitz, can you set up a meeting with Damien Kaczmarek?  I think he will be interested in this since he is an actual survivor of Bergen-Belsen.”

Chapter 4

The following week Damien Kaczmarek and Director Hofi met to discuss the letter, while Mrs. Horovitz took the meeting minutes.

“So Damien, we have this offer (holding up the letter) from a nineteen-year-old in Montreal.  I was initially skeptical, but then Simon forwarded us the same letter thinking it had merit. The kid was smart to send it to both of us. I wonder if he sent it to anyone else?  I always trust Simon’s instinct so a few days ago I contacted our people in Montreal to do a quick background check on the kid.  His story matches up with what he stated in his letter. His Dad was with the British 11th Armored Division that liberated Bergen-Belsen, his Mother was a Signet operator with the RAF, the kid is an excellent athlete who played multiple sports and was given an ice hockey scholarship to an American University, and he’s an honor roll student. What’s not to like about this kid?”

“I agree, Yitzhak.  This kid has potential, though I’m concerned by his young age and the damage it could do our Agency if found out we were supporting him in his request, however, he does provide the perfect cover.”

Director Hofi responded. “I’m also concerned by that and for his parents, but there are three things that counter these concerns. One, he is nineteen years old, legally able to fight in nearly every nation in the World.  Two, he mentioned in his letter his parents being the same age when they went off to fight in World War Two. Three, as you said, he is the perfect cover and our current Nazi-hunting efforts have been recently derailed due to the extreme scrutiny in these South American safe-havens.  I think it’s currently next to impossible to pull off another Eichmann operation, so a kid like this would bring very little attention to himself relative to our efforts. Don’t you agree?”

“Yes, this is a good opportunity for us and it will have a very good chance to succeed.  Plus, we can really structure his involvement to ensure his safety. I’m thinking his mission would be to just verify the Blond Beast’s location and do a two-week surveillance on her to record daily movements. Then I suggest if she is found, we send in Shayetet 13 (the Israeli special forces unit equivalent to US Seal Team Six.) to either take her out or extract her.”

“You have a good take on this Damien, that’s why I wanted you involved. I felt you were the best choice for his Katsa (Field Operations Handler) based on your experience at Bergen-Belsen, this connection would be important to you. So, we need to get started in preparing this Ian Richard. I would like you to go to Montreal and start training him in our operational ways and protocols.  I would also like him to receive our field agent physical training. I have someone in mind for that. We also need to do an identity change for his protection and that of his family. Get someone to provide him with language and cultural training. I have a dossier here on Gertrude Sommer. We have some intelligence that there is a high level of confidence she is living in Argentina or across the border in Uruguay.  Please review this material and if you think of anything else we might need to do to support Ian Richard let me know. Let’s get together next week and start planning out the logistics.”

In a far-off corner in Director Hofi’s office was a television showing the latest news on the prior month’s terrorist attack in Jerusalem, which killed thirteen people and wounded seventy-two. Explosives had been placed inside of a refrigerator that had been set by terrorists in front of a toy store. The explosion in Zion Square happened on a crowded shopping day on the eve of the Sabbath.

Director Hofi pointed to the television.

“You see that Damien? It never ends. And we’re still resolving the past crimes imposed on us from thirty-one years ago. But this is what we do, we don’t forget any crime against us and we deliver justice to those who have committed the crimes. I think this kid is a blessing and I will take any opportunity which helps us accomplish our responsibilities.”

Back in Montreal, it had been several weeks since Ian sent his correspondence and had yet to receive a reply. Late August was approaching when he came home from his last day of work covered in paint from his summer job with the Town of Westmount. It was a Friday afternoon when Hatty called him about a package he had to sign for at the Post Office. He froze with apprehension and excitement thinking “They have responded”.

Chapter 5

Ian still had about thirty minutes before they closed the Canada Post office at 1217 Green Avenue. He jumped on his old hunter green Raleigh Sport three-speed bicycle, which rode like the brake was always on and coasted all the way down Victoria Avenue, then navigated the rush-hour crowd along Sherbrook eastbound to Green street.  It took all of fifteen minutes to get there. Longtime Canada Post worker Rene´ Dionne greeted Ian at the front desk as Ian was wiping the sweat from his brow. Rene´ had worked there for many years and knew pretty much everyone in Westmount.

“Bon apres-midi, Ian. Puis-je vous aider?”

“Oui, Rene, ma mère m’a donné ce reçu pour ramasser un colis. Pouvez-vous voir si vous l’avez ici?”

Rene took Ian’s receipt and went into the back room for a few minutes to look for his package.  Ian was a bit nervous it wasn’t there, perhaps it was at another Canada Post or even lost.  His imagination got the best of him and thought Canada Customs intercepted the package and confiscated the contents while at the same time informed his parents of Ian’s plan. But to his relief, Rene´ returned with a thin light brown paper package and a smile on his face, proud of his ability to find the needle in the haystack.

“Ian I was lucky to find your package, that back room is a real mess like it was hit by an earthquake! Interesting, your package is from Tel Aviv, Israel, do you have family there?”

“No Rene, it’s just information from a family friend about traveling in the Holy Lands.”

Right after Ian said this he thought it problematic should his mother come to the Post Office and Rene´ brings up this package from a “family friend” in Tel Aviv and mentions Ian’s interest in traveling to Israel. He quickly thought up a better excuse, one that would better prevent his mother from finding out about this mysterious package.

“Well, Rene´, the truth is. The package is from a girlfriend of mine who now lives in Tel Aviv and whom my parents don’t approve of… could you keep this…” “A secret? Of course, Ian. I’m guessing she’s Jewish? I had a similar situation when I was younger with my parents. Your secret is secure my friend.”

“Merci beaucoup Rene! I appreciate your help. See you later.” As Ian was leaving through the post office’s main entrance, he examined the package very closely, perhaps too closely as he bumped into a well-to-do Westmount woman who wasn’t too pleased by his carelessness. His address was typed and precise, there was no return address, but it did, however, have an Israeli postmark, “Tel Aviv”, over the array of stamps on the package. The stamps emphasized the Crusader sites in Israel. Perhaps emblematic of the effort and difficulty of Ian’s future endeavor. The package felt empty, Ian guessed it might just be a “thanks but no thanks” reply. He could only deduce it came from the Mossad in Tel Aviv. Yet, he was still excited about uncovering its content no matter what it said, but he also needed to make sure his enthusiasm wasn’t noticed by his mother who would be at home and always seem to know when something was up.

He placed the package in his backpack and made the arduous ride back up Victoria Avenue. He rode into the garage which was in the back part of the house and on the same level as the basement. From there he quietly made his way up the stairs into the kitchen. Hatty surprised him as she was preparing dinner.

“So, Ian, what did you get?”

“Oh, just some travel information from the Argentina embassy. I don’t know why I had to sign for it.”

Ian realized in that one moment, one skill which would be crucial was the ability to create a believable story at a moment’s notice as well as thinking through all the scenarios which could play out through that story. In this case, he did have some Argentina travel catalogs in his room he picked up from a travel agency downtown on St. Catherine’s. So, if his mother wanted to see something, he had something to show. Perhaps the consequences of this story not panning out would be ok, but within the confines of a more stressful and dangerous situation would Ian have the ability to think fast on his feet?  The answer to this question would prove to be crucial to his success and survival.

As soon as he closed the door to his room, he sat down on his bed and slowly took out the package. He held it in the air for several long seconds examining it again. He treated the package as if it were a personal gift and slowly started to cut open one end, then slide out its contents, which revealed only a blue colored ticket with an address written on it… “The Word, 469 Rue Milton”.  He knew of The Word on Milton as it’s a used bookshop in the “McGill Ghetto” area of Montreal.  The so-called “Ghetto” was a misnomer as it was really the area of Montreal near the McGill University campus where many students lived. The few stores and cafes located there exuded a bohemian feel to the place. Ian questioned why all the mystery in receiving a correspondence, but then considered Israeli has many enemies, and their need to visually verify his identity.

Saturday morning, he again took his “overweight” and slow Raleigh down Victoria Ave, heading east on Sherbrook, a left on University (McGill) and then the next right down Rue Milton. It was a beautiful summer-like morning and people were enjoying the nice temperatures in their shorts and t-shirts. He arrived at The Word, locked up his bike, though, he would be surprised if anyone wanted to steal it and entered the bookshop.

The Word just opened a few months earlier and had an unusual business plan of selling used books and collectibles, offering appraisals and hosting all sorts of music and literary events. It was a hip place and very popular with the “Ghetto” residents.  A young man in his early thirties named Noah managed the store. Noah was actually an Ethiopian Jew and had joined the Mossad after immigrating to Tel Aviv in the late 1960’s. He left the Mossad in the early 1970’s to attend McGill University, upon graduating with a degree in Political Science, the Mossad offered him employment as a field agent to help in their North and South American operations.

The small bells attached to the door offered a short burst of discordant ringing as Ian entered. He started walking around the store pretending to be browsing. He noticed a person handling a large array of books whom he thought might be the manager based on his age relative to the other employees. Ian was unsure if this African man would be the person to give the ticket to, so he lingered a little longer. This was again an example of a needed skill, the ability to use logic and deduction in solving these dynamic at the moment puzzles. Ian meandered his way towards Noah and could see in his eyes he might be expecting more than a book request. Ian’s hand was tightly clenching the ticket and without saying a word he released his grasp and presented the ticket out in his open palm. Noah’s eyes opened wider and a slight smile came across his face.

“Bonjour monsiuer, j’attendais votre visite?”

He suddenly became very congenial and ushered Ian over to an old leather chair near the entrance to the back room.

“Please sit, I’ll just be a couple of minutes. Feel free to read anything around you.”

About five meters away from them were a couple of part-time student employees stacking and arranging a few cartloads of used books. Noah asked them to attend to another task in front of the store.

Ian noticed he had an accent which he really couldn’t place. he thought he might be from somewhere in northern African.

Noah quickly disappeared through a curtain into the back storage room. Ian sat thinking about what kind of relationship this man had with the Mossad? Was he perhaps Israeli? He also sensed asking questions was probably not the right protocol in this situation. Again, another skill to know, when to seek information and when to seek silence. Noah came back with an eight by ten manila colored envelope in his hand and with a raised voice so the surrounding people would hear, he said, “Here is the print you ordered, I’m awfully sorry it took so long.”

Ian rose from the old leather chair, took the envelope and thanked him. He left the store and noticed his bike was still there, unfortunately. He felt the envelope for its contents and it seemed to be just papers inside. So back on his Raleigh, he headed home. Upon arriving he found his parents sitting at the kitchen table having their luncheon. They invited him to sit with them.

Hatty had slow cooked her wonderful pasta meat sauce which Ian loved, so it was an easy choice to join them. While the three of them passed plates of food around the table, Ian thought this was a good opportunity to ask some philosophical questions, perhaps as a way to validate and affirm his future endeavor.

“Dad, do you mind if I ask you a couple of questions about the war?”

“Sure Ian, what would you like to know?”

Ian’s Dad had now come to grips with his past and was now more willing and open to discuss it, especially with Ian.

“I was just wondering how you feel about the Nazi’s who had escaped justice in being tried for war crimes?”

“That’s quite a question, Ian.  You remember our conversation about Bergen-Belsen after watching that documentary?”

“Yeah, and I could tell it really had an effect on you.”

“It really did, and to answer your question. I’m really angry at the authorities in power at the time, you know, the US, England, and Russia whose cold war politics compromised justice for the victims. I know there are many Nazi’s out there now living a comfortable life somewhere and I really hope and pray they will be found and brought to justice.” And with this answer from his father, Ian felt he was given permission to carry out his plan. He hoped one day in the future his parents would be proud of his actions. Perhaps more so than if he made it as a professional hockey player.

As soon as they finished their Earl Grey tea, Ian made his way back upstairs to his room, closed the door, and sat on his bed and took the envelope out of his backpack.

He sliced open the envelope and found a single typed letter with a few paragraphs of text and some names and phone numbers. He immediately interpreted the letter as his instructions.

“August 10th

Welcome, Ian,

We have carefully reviewed your correspondence and believe in your intentions based on the background information you have submitted to us.  For security purposes, this correspondence and all subsequent correspondence will be void of identities.  Please read everything carefully, and try and memorize as much as possible and then destroy this letter.

We have listed the first names and phones numbers which you need to save and secure by the best means possible. These are your local Montreal contacts and they will help you in your preparation for your trip. The timeframe for your trip will be determined by these people.

Your primary contact Damien will provide you with logistics, financial and intelligence support. He must be the first person whom you contact.

Your contacts are as follows:

Damien 514-842-4813. He will be your advisor and will help prepare you in many ways. He is also well aware of your background.

Yury 514-272-0667. This person will be your physical education instructor. He will not know your background. Please don’t share your personal information with him.

Sophia 514-398-3650. This will be your language and culture teacher. She will also not know your background. Please don’t share your personal information with her.

As aforementioned, these three people will be the ones who will advise you on your departure date.

We have provided you with a code name, Raguel, which you must use to identify yourself when contacting any of the people listed above. They will not know you by your real name, except for Damien, but still, use this code name. Again, you will not tell them your real name nor will you disclose information about where you live or about your immediate family. We also strongly insist you do not tell anyone of your future work, even your closest family members and friends. This is for your protection and that of your family and friends.  This is a very serious undertaking of which we feel you are most aware.

We wish you the best of luck going forward and we greatly appreciate your willingness to help us seek the justice so many deserve.

Sincerely,

Your Supporters”

 

Ian looked up the name Raguel in the family’s large encyclopedia and discovered it was a name derived from the early Judaic traditions meaning the archangel of orderliness, fairness, harmony, and justice, or the Angel of Justice. He thought it very fitting as several of the concentration camp Nazis had the nickname The Angel of Death.

Chapter 6

It was now the following Monday morning August 25th, and Ian had just finished up his summer job on Friday, his parents were both at work when he went into the living room around 10 AM to make his first call. He was feeling a bit nervous, perhaps with some reservation about going down this path.  But he felt a strong internal force telling him, this is his destiny and his opportunity to make a difference in the World.

Ian picked up the phone and dialed the local Montreal number 842-4813.

The voice at the other end sounded old. “Hello.”

“Hello, this is Raguel, is this Damien?”

“Hello Ian, I have been expecting your call. How are you feeling?”

It was the tone of Damien’s voice that immediately calmed Ian down. Though Damien just spoke a few words, Ian read him as being a genuinely caring person and sincere in purpose.

Damien Kaczmarek was fifty-five years of age. He survived the Warsaw Ghetto, but his parents, brothers, sister and most relatives did not.  It was in the summer of 1942 the German’s deported approximately three hundred thousand Jews to the Treblinka extermination camp. Word got back to the Ghetto that there was mass killing at this camp. Many occupied Jewish communities decided it was time to resist being deported to their deaths and started to organize. They created the Z.O.B (the Polish name, Zydowska Organizacja Bojowa, translated, means the Jewish Fighting Organization). It was led by the charismatic twenty three year old Mordechai Anielewicz. Damien Kaczmarek was one of his lieutenants. There were seven hundred and fifty members in their Z.O.B. They sourced mostly old weapons and used whatever they could find to defend themselves.  The uprising started on April 19, 1943, and they were victorious during their first few engagements with the German army and police, but after a month-long siege, their revolt ended on May 16, 1943. More than fifty-six thousand Jews were captured, of which seven thousand were shot and the remaining sent to various concentration and extermination camps.

Damien was coincidently sent to Bergen-Belsen and was one of the survivors who greeted the British 11th armored division, and Ian’s father. Damien eventually resettled in Israel and started a long career with the Mossad after it was formulated in December 1949. His memories of Bergen-Belsen haunted him throughout his life and he was obsessed with finding Gertrude Sommer. When Ian’s letter requesting support came to the Mossad, he initially didn’t take it seriously until his conversation with Director Hofi brought to light the unusual coincidences and specific motivations of Ian. Damien thought it an odd story but also considered God’s intervention… B’ezrat HaShem, ‘with the help of God’, Ian was somehow the chosen one, destined to do God’s work in bringing Gertrude Sommer to justice.

Ian responded to Damien. “To be honest, I was a bit nervous about reaching out to you. I guess it’s like having pre-game jitters, which, counter-intuitively seems to help my performance. But I do feel ready to take on this task.”

Ian wondered if he might have said too much and perhaps Damien might think badly of him in revealing his fear, but in line with his earlier read of Damien’s character, he sensed he would appreciate his honesty and insight.

“Well said Ian, knowing how good of a hockey player you are, I have confidence in you doing a great job in this endeavor. We have a lot to discuss and there are also a few things I need to give you.  Would you be able to meet me this afternoon?  I was thinking we could meet in Saint Louis Square, you know the park near the end of Prince Arthur? The Laval Avenue side.”

“Yes, I can meet you over there this afternoon. What time?”

“Let’s say 2 pm, and Ian, just as an exercise, when you make your way over to the park, try and be as observant as possible, I have a little test for you. And please don’t call the others on your list until after we have met.”

After the call Ian started to worry about what Damien mentioned. “Observant? Test? What does this all mean?  Is it some kind of Mossad training exercise and if I fail, they’ll not support me?” He wondered what he would be tested on? He took his Raleigh bicycle and rode along Avenue des Pins, it was a wide-open stretch at the base of Mount Royal, which he thought would be spacious enough to observe anything needing to be noticed. He then made a right turn on Avenue Laval to the park. He figured Damien would probably be sitting on one of those park benches, which then made him think, “I don’t know what he looks like and he never told me what he would be wearing. Perhaps this is the test?”

It was another clear, dry and warm end of August day on the island of Montreal. Traffic seemed light and Ian got to Saint Louis Square in about twenty-five minutes. There sitting on the bench adjacent to Avenue Laval was a man he suspected of being Damien. He was sitting there with his legs crossed reading some booklet on top of his briefcase. He seemed to be around his Dad’s age, early to mid-fifties. He had wavy salt and pepper hair shortly cut compared to the style of the seventies and also had a short-length mostly white beard. Ian judged he was around six feet and probably normal weight for his height. He wore a blue and white striped sears sucker shirt with the sleeves rolled up and had white pants and a pair of black and white saddle shoes. He was comfortably dressed and somewhat stylish. Based on the choices of the people in the park around this area, Ian felt this had to be Damien.

He locked his bike next to the street parking sign and slowly walked toward this man. The seated man sensed Ian’s presence and slowly looked up at him and smiled.

“Hello, Damien?”

“Hi Ian, right on time, I like that, please have a seat next to me.” They shared the bench with about two feet between them.

“So Damien, you had me thinking about being observant, is there a test now?  I was thinking it might simply be about identifying you in the park. You know, by deductive reasoning?”

“No, it wasn’t that Ian, did you noticed anything when biking over here?”

“Just the traffic was light and I also took a more visually open route to get here, just to give me a better field of vision to observe things.”

“Well, you failed our little test. Not more than forty-five meters from leaving your house one of my colleagues followed directly behind you on his bike, he was never more than twenty meters away from you all the way here.  Look across over at that other bench, that’s my colleague, the one with the red shirt in his early thirties. Observational skills are crucial for our work, your work. They can help you in your mission and also protect you. This is the first lesson of many. I know you have responded well with your hockey coaches, think of me as your coach and I promise you will be successful and safe. I bet you passed my other test. Knowing your background and studying you I believe you know what your code name means?”

“Yes, I looked it up. It basically means The Angel of Justice.”

“That’s right, I know you have a curious nature, else you would never have had an interest in what your father experienced, or find out about Gertrude Sommer. Curiosity, like observation, is an ability which can help you. I gather you must be wondering why we decided to support you?  Well, it was an easy choice to make. One, you have a sincere interest in bringing a war criminal to justice, basically derived from your father’s experience. Two, we feel you have the intelligence and the right personality to be successful. Yes, we delved into your school records, and covertly interviewed certain people about you. Three, you have the physical ability and discipline which our trainer Yury can work with to make you more effective. And lastly, you have a perfect cover. You’re a Canadian kid, who looks Aryan at six foot with brown reddish hair and a solid muscular frame, who wants to explore the World before going to University. As your Katsa or Field Intelligence Officer, I believe we can take all these abilities and shape you into a successful field agent under the supervision and support of the Mossad.

Ian, I do want to make sure you fully understand the risks involved in this endeavor.  You will be entering a foreign land, with a political system in conflict and a support system offering safe haven to Nazi war criminals. Should you get too close or made, there is little we can do for you except getting your Canadian embassy involved. There is also a chance you just disappear, like many of the political dissidents in some of these Nazi safe-haven countries.”

Ian paused for a moment to collect his thoughts and interpreted Damien’s statement as a disclaimer regarding the danger of his participation. “I understand what you’re saying. But I feel if my parents took risks with their lives entering World War II, I can do the same for a similar cause. I truly feel this is my chance in life to do something of value, something, if successful, I can look back on and take pride in getting involved. I don’t want to go down some typical career path, I want to be different and to make a difference.”

Ian could tell that Damien found him sincere by how closely he listened without interruption and showed a countenance which expressed interest and concern. But he also knew from his research these Katsa’s trained for three years in how to recruit agents for the Mossad. They were quite proficient in recruiting, cultivating and building trust with their potential agents.  Ian felt Damien was probably a pretty seasoned Katsa. His exhibited care and concern could have been just a good feign, his only real concern was a potential resource to help track down a war criminal. Ian wondered if he might not be the only Mossad resource on Gertrude Sommer’s trail, but would that make sense? For the time being, he kept that thought in the back of his mind.

“Ian, what you venture to do is a very worthy cause. I was at Bergin-Belsen, and I can tell you, Gertrude Sommer, although a female, was a monster, as evil as Joseph Mengele or Adolf Eichmann. I saw what she did to the female prisoners. Killing many in cold-blood, tormenting and torturing others. She needs to pay for her crimes.”

Damien held off on disclosing more detail, as it was too personal and painful for him to bring up. In the camp, there was a woman Damien fell in love with. Kita Czapiewska, she was also from Warsaw, though they never met there, they did know some of the same families, as both were from the same Left-leaning intelligentsia class of Polish society. Damien and Kita found themselves sharing much more in common than politics, from their love of the arts and their creative skills to their philosophical views on life. Their low profile, gentle and caring personalities also supported a good foundation for love. Even under such harsh living conditions and treatment, where one’s humanity and self-esteem had been stripped away, they still saw the beauty in each other.

Due to Damien and Kita’s higher social status within the camp, they were rewarded with more desirable work assignments. Damien held an administrative position indoors as an accountant for the camps supply needs while Kita worked in the kitchens. Damien often provided his Nazi overseer with the excuse of doing an inventory of the kitchen’s food supplies giving him time to be with Kita. On these occasions, they would make their way to the storage rooms under the auspices of an inventory count, when in actuality they used the time and seclusion for their rare moments of intimacy. But Kita was a target of Gertrude Sommer, possibly due to jealousy as Kita’s beauty rose above her tragic circumstances and her grace accentuated Gertrude Sommer’s inadequacies as a human being.

It was during one of Sommer’s humiliation sessions she had Kita down on all fours with her German shepherd barking in Kita’s face that she unholstered her Lugar walked a few steps closer to Kita and put one bullet through the front of her head. Damien had watched from a distance as he was walking between buildings and dropped to his knees in anguish, a fellow prisoner quickly lifted Damien and escorted him back to his building.

It was at that time Damien was most vulnerable to being killed himself as he hit his threshold of human cruelty and became fearless in his attitude and behavior and started verbally lashing out. The human feeling of hope, which seemed to be the key ingredient in a camp’s prisoner’s ability to survive was now undermined. After several warnings from his friends and even from his Nazi overseer, Damien renewed his determination to survive and thought how his revenge would be served. After the war, he found his revenge in the form of joining the Mossad and his work in hunting Nazis.

“Ian, I want to share some intelligence with you. There is strong evidence our target is residing in the San Fernando section of Buenos Aires. This is an industrial community twenty kilometers north of downtown Buenos Aires. We also suspect our target may be working in one of several German manufacturing companies in that area, possibly with Mercedes-Benz. We assume she has altered her appearance and most likely changed her identity. As with other high profile Nazis in hiding, our target may be protected by the local German community and even by the local authorities. The goal of your mission is to find the exact whereabouts of Gertrude Sommer and if found, to record her day to day activities over a course of a couple of weeks and relay your findings back to us. And here’s another reason we like you. You know how to use Morse code. We understand it was taught to you by your mother at a young age and you took up being a ham radio operator as a hobby. We’ll supply you with some pretty advanced equipment of which you’ll be contacting us on a specific frequency at a certain time and day. I’ll get into the logistics in more detail later.”

The meeting was surreal. Ian was actually talking with a Mossad field agent about supporting his mission. It was exhilarating and had a similar feel to when he played hockey at the next skill level, which gave him confidence in his abilities.

Damien reached into his briefcase and took out a manila colored 11 x 14 envelope.

“Now on to your cover information and other logistics. In this envelope, you will find the following; enough Canadian currency to pay for an open-ended ticket to Buenos Aires from Montreal, with an additional amount to pay for your accommodations, the address will be provided to you later. We have also included $500 dollars’ worth of Argentine Pesos to help with your day to day expenses in-country. We’ll provide more financial assistance depending on your needs and the course of your investigation.

There will be a local Argentine contact who will provide you with assistance once you get to Buenos Aires. This person will be revealed to you at a later time. The date for your trip will be determined by consensus between myself, your trainer, your language coach and yourself. I’m guessing it will be approximately three months before we feel you’re ready, as we have to get you through some intensive training for this type of operation.”

Ian was impressed and relieved by their support. Financially it really made a difference and the training would be crucial, as he didn’t know what he didn’t know, which put him at greater risk.

“Now Ian, a few weeks before you leave we will have you see one of our document specialists here in Montreal, some may refer to him as a forger, but he does excellent work. He will photograph you and provide you with a new Canadian passport and a new identity. Does the name Peter Müller sound familiar?”

“Yes, he was in my class at Loyola and we just graduated together.”

“We know. He is part of your cover for several reasons, of which I’ll explain. During World War II there was an Infantry soldier named Hans Müller. He was born in 1922 in Cologne, Germany. He was conscripted into the Wehrmacht in 1939 which is the official name of their defense forces, covering all branches of their military. He was a part of the Heer or Army and was assigned to the 90th Light Infantry Division which served in North Africa under Field Marshal Erwin Rommel, also known as The Desert Fox.

Hans unit served admirably against the British 8th Army in the Western Desert Campaign but eventually surrendered to the Allies in the final stages of the Tunisia Campaign in 1943.  Hans was quite pleased being captured by the British as the Russians had applied harsh treatment to their POWs.  Hans expected he would live out the War somewhere in a prison camp in the United Kingdom, but was actually sent to the Medicine Hat camp in Alberta, Canada.  The German prisoners were treated well there. Because of a labor shortage, the POW system encouraged the prisoners to work on projects inside and outside the camp for .80 cents an hour. There was even a lack of Canadian soldiers to adequately guard over the Germans, but the POW camp philosophy both in Canada and the United States encouraged the German officers to maintain their own discipline and order as if they were in their own camp. This built trust in the relationship with the Canadian guards and the German prisoners.  Many of the prisoners were allowed to work in the local community outside the camp, and the local communities even sponsored dance socials for the prisoners. Many, including Hans, would meet their future wives at these events. Hans met and eventually married Julie Phillips.

A few years after the War ended they moved to Montreal, where Hans worked in a manufacturing plant which produced cans of liver pate´. Julie worked as a secretary at the Montreal Stock Exchange. They lived in a small duplex house at 4860 Draper Avenue in the NDG (Notre-Dame-de-Grâce) section of Montreal near Chemin de la Cote-Saint Luc. Well, they had no children until now, I mean you. They did have a happy life together until poor Hans died of a heart attack in 1972 and his wife died last year of cancer.

Now back to your classmate Peter Müller. We wanted you to have a German last name, so we looked through all your classmates and found a few, then we researched ex-German soldiers who may have emigrated or somehow ended up here in Montreal and we found Hans. We were lucky in several ways, obviously with the surname, also, Hans and Julia are no longer with us should someone try and contact them and finally you and the real Peter Müller have a similar look. We also were able to alter the local census records to include Peter Müller as a son of Hans and Julie Müller. Don’t ask, we have our ways.  By the way, you are now an orphan with a small inheritance they left behind. Ian, this cover is needed just in case your presence raises suspicions and phone calls are made.

Inside this envelope is a more detailed background on your newly adopted parents. We know you are a good student so you really need to memorize or better yet really know about their backgrounds. From this point forward we need to go by your new alias so it will feel natural to you and you actually end up responding to it. Your next contacts, Yury and Sophia will only know you by your code name, but once you establish contact I encourage you to use your cover name and new family history. This will give you practice so once you’re in the field, you be less prone to slip up.

I think I mentioned we should meet once or twice a week. So, let’s plan on meeting this coming Friday afternoon. Same time and place.  I need to start training you on how to be clandestine, how to influence others, how to gain trust and how to do your surveillance. So, we have much work to do before you depart.

Please call Yury and Sophia to schedule time with them as soon as possible. They both have a lot to teach you. Here’s your package, please secure it in a safe place. It’s best to have one good hiding place versus several, as the chances of discovery increase and the chance you forget a location also increases. Ok Peter, see you on Friday.”

Ian did feel a bit overwhelmed, that this was actually happening. Again, a nervous excitement seemed to kick in and his adrenaline made it an easy and quick bike ride home. It was about noontime when he entered the empty house. He went to the basement where he kept all his hockey equipment. The smell of which kept everyone away from this area. Next to his equipment was a long bench attached to the wall, it had a cosmetic board covering its base, behind which he hid all his contraband, so he decided, this proven area would be the best place for his Mossad information.

Before placing the envelope there, he went through all the materials. He was very impressed by Mossad’s thoroughness and attention to detail. He felt more confident being supported by them. It was at this moment he decided he was all-in and ready for the upcoming challenge. He then went upstairs to the living room and reached for the phone.

He did wonder why they gave him all this cash and identity information up front, perhaps it was a way to show their seriousness and also their trust. Perhaps it was their way to make him feel more obligated to carry out his mission. In any case, Ian remained motivated and wanted to make that next call.

“Bonjour?”

“Hello, Yury? This is Raguel.”

“Hello, Raguel!  I was expecting your call.”

Chapter 7

“Yury, my real name is Peter Müller. I think we are supposed to get together for some training?”

Yury had a very Cold War stereotype Russian accent, coming off sounding comical.

“Yes, Peter, that’s right, we must train together. Can you meet me tomorrow morning at 7 AM, we have much to do.”

It was 1972 when Yury was thirty years of age, he and his father emigrated from the Soviet Union’s second largest city St. Petersburgh to the State of Israel. It was the time of mass emigration of Russian Jews called Aliyah. They chose Israel not so much for their religious views but because many relatives were already there. Unfortunately, Yury’s mother was a World War II casualty. She along with thousands of others starved to death during the German Army’s eight hundred and seventy-two day siege of Leningrad (the former name of St. Petersburgh). Yury was born in the middle of the siege and miraculously survived.   Emigrating out of the Soviet Union was quite difficult during the Cold War period. Between 1960 -1970 only 4,000 people were able to emigrate outside the USSR. But during the next decade, a quarter of a million left. Yury’s father was a scientist and due to a brain drain, the Soviets levied a “diploma tax” for highly-educated people. To emigrate they were required to pay up to twenty times an average salary. Yury’s Dad did pay a large amount. A few things changed after they settled in Israel, Yury changed his surname from Konnikov to Cooper, he chose it based on his favorite American Rock star Alice Cooper.

While Yury was in his University studies in St. Petersburgh he became fascinated with Krav Maga, a martial art developed by Imi Lichtenfeld of Hungary during the 1930’s as a means to fight against the anti-Semitic violence of that time period. It was a system of self-defense combining several fighting disciplines to be used in a practical form against life-threatening situations.

Yury became remarkably good at it, winning many awards and eventually opened his own studio. After resettling in Tel Aviv, he opened up his own Krav Maga Training Studio and one customer kept coming back with a constant stream of employees to train. The Mossad eventually decided it was more cost-effective if they hired Yury.  Over the following three years, he taught hundreds of Mossad agents the fine art of self-defense; handling knives, creative ways of turning objects into weapons and the many ways to subdue and kill one’s opponent. His success raised his status within Mossad and in 1975 he was the trainer of future Krav Maga trainers and would be frequently placed into the field for operational support. Which is how he ended up in Montreal.

At the beginning of August, he left his studio apartment in Tel Aviv and headed to Montreal to help train Raguel.  He located himself in the Hasidic Jewish community of Outremont in a high-rise apartment on Rue Laurier.

“Sure Yury, where should we meet tomorrow at 7 AM?”

“Peter, do you know the CN Wellington Control building?”

“Yes, that’s near Rue Smith and Rue Murray. But I think it’s abandoned?”

“Not anymore, I have arranged for its use.”

“Should I wear gym clothes?”

“You can come dressed any way you want. See you at seven.”

The CN building and attached tower were built in the early 1930’s to control railroads, but it hasn’t served any practical purposes since the late 1960’s when it shut down. It has since become popular with graffiti artists.

During the week, Ian’s parents, although very busy, expressed concern over the use of his time since he finished his summer job and hadn’t set a date of departure for South America. In exercising his deceit capabilities, he informed them he had found some free Spanish language training and that he was doing some additional research about economic influences of Western manufacturing plants in South American countries. He told them he would try and leverage his travels so as to create some valuable experiences and insights he could promote in a future application to an Ivy League school in the States. He figured his parents would embrace any effort for the Ivy League.

The next morning Ian’s alarm clock radio went off to CJAD morning news at 6:00 AM. Unlike a school morning in which took him half the morning to become functional, the anticipation of his encounter with Yury had his adrenaline flowing. He was wide awake.  Though it took him a few minutes to figure out what to wear for Yury’s training session.  Not sure what to expect, he put on his high-top black converse sneakers, some baggy bell-bottom dungarees, and a Habs (Montreal Canadiens Hockey Club) t-shirt.

His folks were at the breakfast table having their Earl Grey tea and Fairmont sesame bagels. They were surprised to see Ian up so early. He told them he enrolled in a free morning physical fitness program run by the Town of Westmount. That seemed to satisfy their curiosity which was up against their busy work schedule, and in a few minutes, they were out the door for the Neurological clinic. Ian had a few more minutes to prepare himself for the day. He remembered needing to contact Sophia and decided to call her after his session with Yury.

He jumped on his bike just as the sun was rising and now paying more attention to his surroundings he negotiated his way through the busy Montreal morning traffic. In twenty minutes, he approached the vacant looking CN Wellington Control building.  The emptiness within the context of the busy morning commute was a bit unsettling. Not knowing what Yury looked like he imagined he would be the only person there. From the sound of his voice, he guessed he would see a man in his early thirties. The CN building was surrounded by a fence. He didn’t see any opening, so he wondered if Yury might not have been able to secure the use of the building. Ian considered riding to a pay phone to call him. But his curiosity got the best of him so he locked up his bike on an old railing and jumped the fence.

The white stucco CN building was three stories high and had an odd sort of triangular shape with one corner protruding like a tower, which overlooked the CN railroad tracks only a few feet away.  The back of the building was facing north towards the city and the building’s front looked South towards the tracks and the St. Lawrence Seaway.   Ian went around to the South side and took the stairs up to a platform. There he saw a partially opened door to the main floor. Still no sign of Yury. He entered through the door and found a large empty space on the first floor, this space continued upwards forming a large atrium through the second and third floors. The upper floors had corridors around their perimeters which connected to many rooms. The whole place looked like a movie set for a torture scene. The setting made Ian feel uneasy. “Where these guys who I thought they were? Or, maybe, they weren’t entirely sure about me, and in this place, they might find out.”

Sunlight was streaking through the surrounding windows. The main floor was illuminated in nice yellow rays with dust particles floating through the light, but dark shadows blanketed the area closer to the walls. Ian looked around and saw no one. As he turned around to face the door to exit, his name was called out, which made him shudder. He turned back around and there standing in that golden light was Yury. He was shocked he didn’t notice him in the room. Again, his observational skills had failed him.

Yury was about six feet tall with hair that was dark, long and curly below his ears. He was lean but muscular, like a taller version of Bruce Lee. He definitely looked East European. He wore an American Rock band t-shirt of the Iron Butterfly, old-fashioned dungarees and blue Adidas running shoes with the three white stripes. Ian expected to see more of a drill-sergeant type of guy.

“Yury?”

“Peter! How are you?  Nice to finally meet you.”

It immediately dawned on Ian, Yury was the guy who followed him to the park to meet Damien.

“Same here Yury, I’m excited about the training.”

“Yes, you will enjoy it very much. Let me tell you what we will be doing. For the first few weeks we will concentrate on getting your body into better condition, then we will start working on survival and self-defense skills. So, let’s begin.”

Ian wondered why they didn’t meet at some conventional gym that had Universal weight machines and free weights. But Yury’s methods were not conventional, in fact, Ian had never come across such innovative training techniques.  Yury was all about using available objects within one’s reach and using these objects in various motions that emulated real day to day activities. For example, Yury gave Ian a long steel bar that was nearby on the floor and demonstrated how to move this 10 Kg bar around the body in various ways. Yury looked like some Samurai swordsman. He called his exercise technique “Weighted Motion”, and it seemed to have a multi-modal effect of strengthening one’s body, improving coordination and skillfully using an object for self-defense. They spent all morning doing similar Weighted Motions with all sorts of objects; chairs, building materials, ropes, rocks and even fixed objects like doors and railings, where Ian was the one orbiting the object. It felt so different than just using free weights or jogging, Ian felt his whole body being better connected and conditioned.

Besides being an expert in the Martial Art of Krav Maga, Yury learned this Weighted Motion technique from the father of Soviet Ice Hockey Anatoli Tarasov when he was hired to be one of the fitness coaches for the Red Army team in the late 1960’s. Tarasov had his players doing especially difficult off-ice training when their counterparts in the West were drinking and smoking their way through the off-season.

It was around noontime when Ian was drenched in sweat and completely depleted of energy.  He was extremely thirsty and unlike his coaches of the time, Yury allowed him to drink during breaks in their workout. Yury had brought a few bottles of some salty cold solution which Ian drank between the various routines. It seemed to rejuvenate him immediately and allowed him the energy to continue.  Soon after his last drink, he sensed they were done for the day.

“Excellent workout Peter. I think you have potential and you will sleep well tonight. Let’s meet again here tomorrow at 7 AM.”

They exchanged goodbyes, neither of them asking any personal questions. Ian was barely able to jump back over the fence. He got on his bike and headed back uphill to Rue Sherbrook. It was a difficult ride home as he was extremely tired and also very hungry. His mind wondered about Yury’s comment, “you have potential”, the potential for what?

After he got home he hit the shower and started thinking about his next contact Sophia. Supposedly she would be his Spanish language and culture teacher but he wondered why they wouldn’t just enroll him at a local language school. Here again, Ian’s curious nature was kicking-in and as Damien mentioned, it would be one of his lines of defense. Hopefully, his power of observation would get better.

Chapter 8

Ian called Sophia after his late lunch.

“Bonjour, c’est Sophia.”

“Bonjour Sophia, je suis Raguel. Je crois que vous etes mon professeur de langue espagnole?”

“Hello Raguel, so nice to talk with you. Yes, I will be teaching you Spanish and other things of culture. We should start as soon as possible. I don’t have a classroom but will teach you here in my apartment which is located at One Wood Avenue, which is between Sherbrook West and Boulevard de Maisonneuve, next to the Mother House of the Sisters of the Congregation de Notre-Dame. Let’s try for tomorrow. What’s a good time for you?”

Not knowing if she might know Yury Ian decided it might be good practice to keep things private unless there is a need to share.

“Oh yes, I know that old convent building and your street, but I’m busy in the morning, could we meet at 2 pm?”

Her place was just minutes away from Ian’s home in Westmount, he figured he would have enough time between the sessions.

“That time works for me Raguel, looking forward to teaching you. I’m buzzer number ten. Au revoir. Rendez-vous demain!”

“Yes, see you tomorrow, and by the way, my real name is Peter Müller, so please call me Peter.”

“Ok, see you tomorrow Peter.”

The rest of Tuesday afternoon found Ian exhausted, not just from the physical training session with Yury, but also from the mental strain of doing something he felt unqualified and unfamiliar in pursuing. An anxious energy was constantly felt within himself. To ease his mind, he started to re-read his favorite book the Count of Monte Cristo by Alexandre Dumas. He especially enjoyed the revenge plots, which he found inspirational.

Later in the afternoon, he watched the local news on TV and some popular sitcom re-runs. These programs started to make him think about how the World could be presented so light-heartedly on television and even anesthetize the viewer from the harsh realities it beheld.  This feeling emerged into his consciousness for the first time. He realized, the events of the last few months had changed him. He became more aware of the World and the issues which plagued it.

As he laid on the living room couch nodding off to the TV, he wondered if being more aware was a good thing, his peers were perfectly happy without being caught up in fixing the World’s problems, perhaps he should also be so obliviously bliss? Then he thought back to the Bergen-Belsen documentary and the photograph shown of his father holding the young starved and ill children next to him, and thought, “There is no way I can disregard suffering.”

Hatty called Ian for dinner. The dinner time had a good exchange of stories from the day. André always had some funny experience to share. Today one of his patients left his EEG test without the technician removing all the wires from his head, the technician chased after him for five hundred meters down Rue University yelling for him as pedestrians watched in confusion.

Apart from being more aware of the World around him, Ian became more appreciative of his parents and how they lived their lives in times of crisis. He admired how they still helped their fellow man today, all with good humor and positive attitudes. Ian was thankful they were his parents and thankful they survived WWII.

After dinner, Ian went to bed early to prepare for his next day’s session with Yury and Sophia. He slept solidly throughout the night. Again, he rose early to another beautiful end of summer day, and meet his parents at the breakfast table. They were surprised to see him up so early two days in a row, especially during his summer vacation. But they were also pleased he was working hard on something.

Back he rode on his Raleigh, down to the vacant CN building. This time he dressed more appropriately, in a sweat suit. Once again, he locked up his bike on the surrounding fence, scaled the gate and entered the main floor. Again, he was alone in the scattered sunlight but sensed he wouldn’t be alone for very long.

Chapter 9

As Ian expected to see Yury emerge from the shadows, a round object was propelled out of the darkness towards his head, his athletic instinct kicked-in and Ian successfully deflected the object away. Yury walked slowly out of the shadows laughing.

“Well done Peter! There is hope for you yet. I like your reflexes. We will be doing more such exercises.”

Ian noticed the object was but a ball of old rolled up newspapers.

“Hi Yury, I wasn’t expecting that kind of welcome. Glad to know it was newspaper versus a brick.”

Yury laughed again, “Well Ian, it could be a brick next time. Let’s start our session.”

“Today, we will do a child’s game similar to tag. I want to evaluate your quickness and agility; this exercise will also improve your stamina and quick thinking. This is how it works.  First, here is $20.00 for you. If you can go the whole one hour without allowing me to catch you, more specifically bear-hug you, you get to keep the $20.00.  But each time I catch you, you’ll lose a $1.00 back to me. I’ll give you a twenty-meter lead for the start of each turn. You can use all the space within this building to avoid me, all the floors, rooms and even any and all objects found within the building.  Are you game?”

Ian thought this would be a fun exercise and felt he might be athletic enough to avoid Yury for the whole hour and be $20.00 richer.

“Ready to begin Peter?”

“All set Yury”

“Ok I’ll start from the entrance and you will be in the center of the first floor, so you will have immediate access to the stairs to the other floors and the surrounding rooms. On the count of three. One – Two – Three!”

Ian, quickly turned towards the stairs which were located on the perimeter of the first floor, he took 10 strides and just as he was about to ascend, he felt the ham-hock sized forearms encircling his chest twisting him around in mid-air back down the two steps of stairs to the main floor.

“Wow! How did you do that? I thought I was fast.”

Yury laughed again, “Yeah, I’m pretty fast Peter, you’re going have to be faster and smarter to keep your money. Let’s try it again.”

After losing $9.00 more during the next 10 minutes, discouraged, Ian thought, “How can I not evade this guy, he can’t be that much faster than me, maybe I’m not as good as I think I am.”

“Peter, if we keep this up you’ll end up owing me $20.00 or more by the end of the hour.”

Then Ian remembered what Yury said after his first failed attempt, “You’re going have to be faster and smarter”. Smarter meant he can’t just try and outrun him but has to outmaneuver him. Just like in hockey, he needs to put some moves on to deke out Yury.

As they started another turn, instead of darting towards one of the stairwells or adjacent rooms, Ian faked some movement towards their direction but then stopped suddenly and as Yury was in reach, Ian quickly side-stepped him causing Yury to go by him by several feet, giving Ian the time to ascend the stairs to the second-floor balcony, commencing a cat and mouse chase for the next thirty minutes. They chased each other around the balcony, from one room to another, around tables and supporting beams, over railings. Sometimes both ceased the chase to catch their breath and recover but then continued the chase. Eventually, Yury did catch Ian, they continued the activity for a good part of the morning and Ian eventually ended up with $5.00 dollars.

They took a mid-morning fluid break, at which time Yury started talking about different techniques in distancing oneself away from pursuers, using everyday objects to counter the pursuit and even how to subdue the pursuer.

During the last couple of hours in the session, Yury had Ian climbing ropes he had attached to the upper floor railings, balancing on beams, jumping between floors and learning how to use commonly found objects to defend himself.

Ian was completely spent when the session ended at noontime.

“Peter, that was a very good day two. I think you’ll progress quickly. We will continue this physical fitness part of the training for the next few weeks, then we will start Krav Maga training which is a special martial art form. This training will involve hand-to-hand combat, grappling, knife fighting, and firearms training. Something to look forward to eh?” As Yury laughed.

Exhausted, Ian made his way back home to get cleaned up, have something to eat and rest before his next session with Sophia at 2 pm.

Chapter 10

Ian left his home on Wednesday afternoon at 1:30, plenty of time to descend Victoria Avenue and be on time for his 2 PM appointment with Sophia.

He was familiar with the location which was next to the historic nunnery of The Sisters of Notre-Dame. His father André mentioned several times The Sisters were there in the mid 1600’s and founded a boarding school to help educate the Filles du Roi or the King’s Daughters when they immigrated to “New France” as potential wives for the Habitants (early French settlers who farmed the areas along the St. Lawrence River) to help populate the Province.

Ian appreciated the coincidence as his ancestor was one of the early Habitants and he was also going to be educated at this location.

He locked up his bike at the corner of Rue Sainte-Catherine and Wood Avenue. Sophia’s place was an older red brick apartment building that looked like it was ready to be replaced by something more modern. He entered the foyer and pushed on buzzer 10.

“Bonjour? Qu´est-ce?”

“Hello Sophia, it’s me, Peter. I’m here for my lesson?”

“Oh, great Peter, come on up to apartment ten on the second floor.”

Ian was buzzed in through the entrance door and ascended the stairs to the second floor. Walking down the hallway to apartment ten, he noticed the wooden floor was worn and dirty and the dark wood wainscoting gave the hallway a very dark and eerie feeling especially accented by a lone bare light bulb in the middle of the hallway.

It was at this moment Ian recalled Damien’s advice about being aware of everything around him. He suddenly became nervous thinking something would come at him from the darkness or he might be entering a trap. But then his reasoning of the situation resolved his fear and he knocked on the door.

Sophia opened the door slowly with the security latch still attached, “Hello Peter, it is great to meet you.” She unlatched the door and welcomed him into her apartment with a polite embrace.

“Same here Sophia, I look forward to your Spanish lessons.”

They started to exchange some personal information about each other, albeit both presented fabricated stories. Sophia gave her last name as Ramirez and that she was an exchange student at Université du Québec à Montréal (UQAM) studying Economics. Ian gave his German cover story and felt good about remembering all the details.

Sophia actually grew up Janet Rodriguez in Buenos Aires, Argentina. Her father Bruno was a journalist in 1972 when he disappeared. It was during a time of extreme political uncertainty and clashes between Right-Wing and Left-Wing parties. He was believed to have been killed by the Right-Wing death squads of the Argentine Anticommunist Alliance also known as “Triple A”.

In 1973 Janet and her mother Carmen applied for political asylum in Canada. They arrived in the summer of that year when Janet was twenty-four years of age, just months after she had graduated from Universidad de Buenos Aires in Linguistics. She spoke fluid English and French.

Janet and her mother actually lived together off Rue St. Denis in the so-called Latin Quarter not too far from UQAM. It was when she worked part-time at The Word bookshop on Rue Milton she met Noah, who recruited her as the Mossad needed resources for their efforts in Argentina. The prospect of the job with Mossad appealed to Janet as she felt they shared a common enemy, Fascism. In the fall of 1974, she joined the Mossad as a North American resource. Her latest assignment involved preparing the new recruit Peter Müller for his operation. The Mossad paid for the use of the Wood Avenue apartment.

Ian immediately noticed the attractiveness of Sophia. She was about five foot five inches, with beautiful almond shaped dark-brown eyes accompanied by full eyebrows. She had a cute button nose and full lips slightly lipsticked. She donned a shag style haircut similar to the actress Jane Fonda in her film Klute. Sophia also had a shapely body and wore a black sleeveless Danskin without a bra beneath and a pair of shortcut frayed jeans. Her skin color had a bronze shade and was smooth and flawless. Ian thought she might be in her mid to later twenties.

Sophia was very polite and treated Ian with much respect as if he was a man of importance. He was never treated in such a way by any girl. In fact, Ian was so busy with his studies and sports he never really had an opportunity to cultivate a relationship with a girl, he truly was a virgin in many ways.

“Ok Peter, why don’t we sit down over at the kitchen table. I want to start teaching you “survival” Spanish.  We don’t have too many weeks, so I have prepared a program of study in which we will meet each day from 2 until 5 PM, except for weekends. I also have to teach you about Argentine culture, things to help give you an advantage when you are in various “situations”.

“Any questions? Ok, let’s begin. Let’s start with some basic phrases.  Say ‘Mi nombre es Pedro’, this is, ‘My name is Peter’.”

For the next two hours, Sophia had Ian speaking Argentinean styled Spanish, writing in Spanish and walking around the apartment identifying places and things in Spanish. She also educated Ian on Argentinean society and culture such as family values, religion, and expressive communication as well as social and business etiquette.

Throughout the session, Ian could not help but find himself deeply attracted to Sophia. When their time was up, there was a polite embrace and Ian departed. While walking to his bicycle he fantasized about being together with Sophia.

Ian started to feel a little more at ease and confident in his evolution as a quasi Mossad field agent. The training started to have a familiar cadence and he appreciated the effectiveness of their methods. The rest of the week’s sessions were much the same.

On Thursday afternoon after seeing Sophia, Ian used a pay phone to call Damien to arrange their next meeting.

“Hi Damien, I was wondering if we could meet Friday afternoon after my session with Sophia?”

“Yes Peter, not a problem, let’s meet at our same location, St. Louis Square. Let’s say 5 pm. I look forward to hearing all about your training, and I also have a surprise for you.”

Ian spent the rest of the evening wondering what that surprise would be.

Chapter 11

Friday afternoon came around and it was still beautiful weather in early September.  As Ian approached St. Louis Square, he could see Damien sitting on the same bench. He was still stylishly dressed wearing a tanned straw fedora which featured a colorful striped hat band, a white shirt paired with a blue cardigan sweater, checkered dark blue slacks, and very shiny Jodhpur boots.

Ian locked up his bike in the same place and walked towards Damien.

“Hello Damien, I don’t think I was followed this time,” Ian said jocularly.

“No, your observational skills are better. Have a seat and let’s talk.”

Ian sat a couple of feet from Damien on the same bench.

“Tell me Ian, how goes the training?”

“Really good. I am so impressed by how innovative both Yury and Sophia are in their training and teaching methods. I haven’t experienced anything like that before. Just after a few weeks of training with Yury I feel in the best shape of my life though I’m always sore. I’ve only had a few sessions with Sophia and I seem to be absorbing everything she’s teaching me.”

“That’s excellent Ian, I thought you would find the training interesting. Now let’s talk about some of the things I need to teach you. First thing I want to say is even though you are getting physical training from Yury, we don’t expect or anticipate you will be having violent physical encounters. We are just a very cautious organization and want to prepare our people for even the slightest possibility of a dangerous encounter. Your tasks are centered around search, surveillance, and reporting. We don’t expect or require you to go above or beyond these activities.

Having said that, I want to better prepare you for your surveillance related duties. There are six attributes of a successful field agent, they may seem simple, but for many, they fail in their assignments because of them. I’ll review each one with you and we can work on them over the next several weeks.

One, you must be able to inspire trust and confidence within the people you meet. This will allow them to feel comfortable in sharing information with you. You need to come off as non-judgmental and even supportive in what they share with you, this will encourage friendship, loyalty, and trust and encourage closeness in your relationship.

Two, secrecy. You must be able to not share your information with anyone; friends, foes or unknowns. You must be able to develop good security hygiene, by which I mean, methods in hiding compromising materials, maintaining your cover story and in varying your behaviors. For example, the routes you take around town, the times and places you eat at, the social activities you participate in. Be unpredictable. You must also structure a “relationship map” in your head, who knows what about you and the relationships between these people.

Three, avoid drawing attention to yourself.  Don’t be the loud talker in the room, don’t dress flamboyantly, like me (sharing a laugh), don’t walk into a place with braggadocio. You really want to be invisible, to blend in. You need to portray a modest disposition. You don’t want to gain attention for being a jerk or for being a great guy.

Four, be a good actor. You may be dealing with some really obnoxious people, who can get under your skin or have conflicting values. You need to make these people think you’re like them, that you are on their side and share their beliefs.

Five, patience. It’s an art form. You have to resist getting too excited in the pursuit of a contact or relationship. You need to manage the natural evolution of relationships. Coming on too strong will turn people off and make people suspicious of you.

Six, being a good liar. Not only do you have to be a good liar, you also need to know when someone else is lying or the chance they might be lying. Being good at lying requires you to really believe the story you are telling.  For example, when you tell the story of your father “Hans Müller”, you need to really believe he is your father and convey some real emotion when talking about him.

While you are in your training phase here in Montréal, you will have some opportunities to exercise all these characteristics. Knowing you Ian, I think you will be good at all of them, you seem to have a good social awareness. Some people are socially awkward and struggle with these things which I imagine you will find easy to do.”

“Thank’s, Damien, it’s funny you mentioned these things as I started to encounter opportunities to rely on them already.” Ian related his lying about why he was getting a letter from Tel Aviv to René at Canada Post and to his parents about his travels.

“Exactly Ian, that is exactly what I mean. It’s great you are becoming aware of these skills and also aware of the consequences of not managing them. Now I want to give you something.”

Damien reached into his pocket and pulled out another Blue ticket like the one Ian got in his initial correspondence taking him to The Word bookshop.

“Ian, I think you will know where to go with this for your surprise. Though I need to tell you what it is because it will require some logistics on your part to get it home. It’s a Short-Wave ham radio set, which includes everything you need to transmit Morse-Code. It also includes a license for you, don’t ask. What we want to do Ian is to have you start practicing sending Morse-Code to our organization contact in New York City. One talent we really appreciated about you was the fact you learned Morse-Code from your Mother. This will be extremely useful when you are in Argentina as they have a habit of wiretapping like no other country in the World. Don’t worry, you won’t have to bring the Short-Wave set with you to Argentina, our contact there will supply you with the exact same equipment already set up in your residence. We have acquired the latest in technology, so the radio size is very manageable compared to most on the market today, which will make it easier to conceal in your residence.

I have another thing to tell you. There is a simple code we have established for you to better identify the actors in your mission. Pieces of a Chess game. We also know you learned Chess from your father so at least the pieces of the game will be very familiar to you.

In your transmissions, Gertrude Sommer will be known as the Black Queen. You will be the White King. Your in-country handler is the White Queen. You can designate Gertrude Sommer’s colleagues of importance the same way we value the chess pieces. Her closest and most important person will be designated as her Black King, then the Bishop, Knight, and Rook.

We did consider more complex codes and ciphers but felt these symbolic references and the fact you are transmitting Morse-Code at a specific time and frequency would make it most improbable for any surveillance to intercept and understand these messages.

When you do transmit do so in a calm style, for example, if you find Gertrude Sommer, don’t communicate, ‘I found the Black Queen! She is at the Rhineland Bar; she works at the Mercedes Benz factory and goes by the name Martina Sanchez.’

Rather be subtle, ‘The Black Queen is doing well. We had a good time at the Rhineland Bar. The Black Queen suggests I try and find employment at the Mercedes Benz factory. My friend Martina Sanchez also works there, maybe she can help me get employment there.’ Don’t worry we’ll be able to figure out what you mean.

If there is a critical issue you are facing it’s best to be more specific than subtle as the specificity will most likely be to our advantage based on the low probability of your message being intercepted.

Should we receive a distress message we will mobilize our ground support team, which includes your in-country handler and perform some other rescue counter-measures.

Included in the instructions which come with your equipment are the times, frequency and Call Signs for transmitting to our support team in New York City. We know your parents will be curious and most likely be by your side when you use the equipment so you can pretend you’re communicating with a new Ham radio friend.  The times will be 10 AM Saturday and Sunday, but you can alter these times with your contact. Please remember to use your code name Raguel.

How does all this sound Ian?”

“It’s all good Damien. But I need to figure out what to tell my parents about the equipment.”

“Good thinking Ian, included in the kit is a letter drafted from the Montréal Amateur Radio Club which has provided you this equipment for your personal use over the next few months. Again, we have our ways. You can pick up the set at The Word at any time.

“Ok Damien, by the way, I noticed the ticket you gave me has the same color blue as the Israeli flag.  Do you think my observation and research skills have kicked in?” Ian conveyed somewhat proudly.

“Oh, you might be right about the color Ian, but I just picked these tickets up from a discount stationery store on Rue Saint Laurent. Still, it’s a good observation.” Damien smiled, liking the fact Ian was becoming more aware of things.

The next morning Ian borrowed his mother’s 1967 White Camero with the 367 engine. He loved this car and hoped she would pass it onto him one day. It had the nickname “The Road Hugger” and Ian was always anxious to test it on the roads circling Mount Royal. But on Saturday morning he played it safe and drove cautiously down to Rue Milton and found parking next to The Word.  He entered The Word and immediately made eye contact with Noah.

“Welcome back my friend, are you here to pick up more books?”

Ian smile and held out his blue ticket.

“Oh yes, your books are in the back office, please have a seat in that leather chair.”

In a couple of minutes, Noah came back with a thirty by sixty centimeters wrapped box and handed it to Ian.  Noah whispered, “Be careful my friend, it’s fragile stuff.”

Ian thanked him and exited The Word. It was 9:15 AM when he left and decided now was a good time to test the car, as he wanted to get home in time to set up the equipment for the 10:00 AM transmission with the Mossad support team in New York City.

Upon reaching home, he parked the car in the back of the house and quietly entered through the basement to the family game room. He could hear his parents upstairs in the kitchen. In the corner of the game room was a table in which he placed the box.  He opened it to find some instructions about setup and contact information. His Quebec based Ham Call Sign was VE2RAQ. His New York City contact’s call sign was AC2MOS. He was assigned the twenty Meter Band (14.0-14.35 MHz) for their communication. Ian having used some similar equipment in the past when his mother taught him Morse-Code enabled him to quickly set up his station. He placed the antenna just outside the basement window then turned on the power, the equipment lit up. His Morse Code Key was connected and he started to transmit through a series of Dah’s and Dit’s which translated into the following,

“CQ CQ Calling CQ. This is VE2RAQ.”

Within a few seconds, he received the following.

“VE2RAQ VE2RAQ, this is AC2MOS.”

Another series of Dah’s and Dit’s on Ian’s Key, “This is Raguel.”

His New York contact replied with a round of pleasantries and then discussed some logistics and the Chess piece cover names.

After a few minutes, they signed off and agreed to re-connect Sunday morning at 10:00 AM to further coordinate their contact procedures, especially around emergencies and missed contact times.

Just as Ian was shutting down his equipment his parents came downstairs to the surprise of a new Ham radio set. Ian proceeded with the cover story Damien suggested and showed the letter from the Montréal Amateur Radio Club, satisfied, Hatty turned on the set and immediately started transmitting using the Straight Key. Ian and André were always impressed by her ability.

The rest of Saturday found Ian more relaxed. He went for a jog around Westmount and played some street hockey with his friends. During the evening he continued reading The Count of Monte Cristo but thoughts of Sophia made him lose his concentration in the story.

Chapter 12

Several weeks elapsed and the leaves were starting to bury the sidewalks of Montreal. It was towards the end of October and Ian had completed many training sessions with Yury and Sophia.  Damien continued to impart his field agent methods onto Ian during their Friday afternoon meetups, which now occurred at various locations around downtown Montreal. They would next meet at a local coffee shop in the “McGill Ghetto” due to the colder weather.

Damien sensed Ian was ready for the next level of training, which would provide some interesting challenges. It would be a final test in his preparation and may even turn-off Ian to continuing his pursuance of Gertrude Sommer.  But Damien had faith in his prodigy.

It was Monday morning and Ian was once again down at the vacant CN building for his training session with Yury.  At this point in time, Ian was in the best physical shape of his life. He trimmed down his excess weight, built up muscle and improved his agility and reflexes.

Over the last few weeks, Yury was teaching Ian the martial art, Krav Maga. Ian was starting to become quite good as he understood and embraced the underlying form of this martial art which is to confuse one’s opponent by overloading their cognition with a variety of movements. When an opponent delivers a strike, Krav Maga teaches one to respond with several movements in different directions. Often in using Krav Maga, one arm protects while the other arm or leg delivers several simultaneous strikes to the adversary’s body. Block, strike, strike, and strike. The idea is to continually “break” the opponents focus so they can’t react.

Yury once again came out of the shadows.

“Hello, comrade Peter. Today we will try something different. You know how in some military training they conduct live firing over the soldier’s heads, well, we are going to do something similar. We will go back to our chase game, but this time we play for real. What I mean is, our contact will be real, we may hurt each other, but we will not use the force or tactics to seriously injure one another. I will even wield a fake long knife. The blade is of hard rubber which I have covered with a red substance, so if I strike you with it your clothing or body will be marked. I encourage you to fight like your life depended upon it. Do you understand?”

Ian’s adrenaline started to pump through his body. He was nervous and anxious but felt like he was trained well enough to defend himself. He also thought, “Yury will stop short of hurting me, why would he injure me so close to my departure?”, which reduced his fear.

“I think I’m up to it Yury. You have taught me a lot over the last couple of months, hopefully, all the hours of training will pay off.”

“Ok Peter, let’s begin”.

Just as in all the other pursuit training exercises. Yury would start at the door. This time holding his fake knife, while Ian was again, situated in the center of the main floor.

On the count of three, the pursuit began. Ian had developed some effective avoidance strategies to keep his distance from Yury. Ian quickly changed direction, ducked, faked one way and went the other, vaulted over railings, and used objects as shields. But the seriousness of the exercise was felt when Yury delivered a blow to Ian’s face that stunned and disoriented him. During those few seconds, Yury got close enough for the lethal use of his knife. Just as Yury was thrusting his knife towards Ian’s neck, Ian snapped out of his stunned state and blocked Yury’s knife-wielding hand with one arm while simultaneously delivering a blow with his other hand to Yury’s neck, solar plexus, and kidney. Then kicked Yury on the side of his knee, which immediately crippled Yury to the floor. Not only was Yury immobilized, he also had the wind knocked out of him.

The session was suspended until Yury recovered, though his countenance expressed pain, he smiled and said, “Well done Peter, you learn fast. I think you’re ready. One thing to consider after subduing your adversary is to sweep their body and possessions for Intel. But only do so if given the time and safety. Beating someone in a fight is great but getting useful information is better.”

Yury was shocked by Ian’s skillfulness with Krav Maga. They trained twenty-five hours a week for the last two months, compared to similar crash courses given to other field agents, Yury felt Ian was exceptional. He seemed to be a perfect fit for Krav Maga perhaps due to his body type and cognitive makeup. But he felt there was something else about Ian, an extra sense if there is such a thing, that complimented Krav Maga and brought it to the next level of effectiveness.

Yury, suggested they continue the non-contact part of their training for the rest of the session.

As was Ian’s routine, he quickly went home to shower, eat and prepare for his session with Sophia. He was proud of himself for beating Yury, but most of his thoughts were focused on Sophia. He was never so attracted to any girl as he was to her. He sensed they had started to become closer and slightly more affectionate towards each other.

These feelings started a few weeks back when Sophia asked Ian if he could help her buy a present for her brother, a relationship that was a part of her cover, the pretense gave her more time with Ian. They walked down St. Catherine’s window shopping, talking and developing a deeper bond. She also invited Ian for dinner in Chinatown on a couple of occasions. Sophia was also attracted to Ian and was orchestrating these rendezvous’ to encourage the relationship. This course of action would be highly frowned upon by her employer if discovered.

At 1:45 PM he once again made his way to Sophia’s residence at One Wood Avenue. He was buzzed in and made his way to her apartment feeling a sense of anticipation. Sophia greeted Ian with a warm embrace. Ian noticed a difference in the apartment; several candles illuminated the room with soft Samba Jazz music playing in the background, and a dinner centered on the table which was normally used for their language session.

Sophia was dressed in an olive-green romper, with a zippered front and drawstring waist. Her bronzed legs were freely exposed and supported by a pair of brown leather high-heeled clogs. Her dinner featured Arbonada Criolla (stew with meat, vegetables, and fruit), Empanadas (little meat pies), Chimichurri (dipping sauce) and Yerba Mate (traditional Argentine herbal drink).

Ian was somewhat surprised by the dinner and noticed Sophia seemed very attentive accompanied by a few longing looks.  They enjoyed the dinner and talked about their back-stories as if they were real.  Ian felt bad about the deception and considered telling Sophia the truth.

After dinner Sophia offered Ian a special Argentinian drink, Fernet mixed with Coke.

“Here Peter, try this drink. Each sip will bring you closer to being a real Argentinian.”

They were both standing together next to the table and made a toast. Ian really liked the herbal licorice flavor and felt the kick from the 45% alcohol content. After they set their glasses down on the table, Sophia placed her hands on Ian’s arms and stood momentarily staring into Ian’s eyes. In that brief moment, like all such moments, the message was clear, Ian slowly moved his face towards Sophia’s, and slowly kissed her, and then pulled slightly back to see her eyes, as if to ask for approval, and then wrapped his arms around her petite body, and kissed her with more force. He then lifted her off her feet and carried her towards her bedroom. The door was partially shut and he lifted his leg and kicked it open.

He dropped her on the bed, which was quite soft, and which partially absorbed her body. Ian then joined her and their embraces and caressing became more passionate. Though Ian was relatively inexperienced, Sophia helped guide him with the pleasures of intimacy. It was an overpowering experience for Ian. He never felt so close to a female and never really felt such passion and love.

It was now early evening and they were still lingering in Sophia’s soft bed. Ian decided he wanted to share his real background story with Sophia and began to disclose his real name and how he got to be connected with the Mossad.  Sophia listened attentively, asking lots of questions which made Ian feel she truly cared about him.

“Ian, would you be able to come back later and stay the night with me?”

“I would love to Sophia. I’ll be back before 10.”

Ian went home for a while, collected his clothes for next morning’s workout session with Yury, gave his parents an excuse for staying away for the night and went back to Sophia’s. The night with Sophia would be a memorable one for Ian. He was completely absorbed with Sophia and they continued lovemaking throughout the night.

Next to their bed was a large window overlooking Wood Avenue. The morning light shined in and Ian groggily awoke. He checked his watch which indicated 9:30. He panicked and quickly leaped from the bed. Sophia awoke to the disturbance.

“What’s wrong Ian?”

“I’m late for my session with Yury, the guy I told you about last night. It’s already 9:30 and he’s been waiting for me since seven. This is not good.”

“Ian, calm down, I am sure he has already left. He probably thinks you’re sick, or something came up. You told me you are always there, so I’m sure he will understand you might miss a session. Don’t worry, come back to bed and rest, you can stay and we can do some language training this morning.”

“Ok, yeah, Yury is a smart guy, I’m sure he has already left, I’ll make up a good excuse for him tomorrow morning. Thanks for helping Sophia.”

Ian, stayed most of the day, which not only involved language training but more time together in bed. He left around dinner time to go back to his home, the whole way feeling euphoric and yearning to embrace Sophia again.

Chapter 13

The next morning Ian meet Yury for another training session. He thought Yury might harbor some hard feelings for being stood-up, but Yury maintained his normal demeanor throughout the session. They did another “live fire” drill, which worried Ian as he thought Yury might dispense extra aggression to settle his displeasure, but again, Ian subdued Yury rather quickly. Instead of running from Yury in accordance to their chase game he stood motionless as Yury quickly advanced, Ian then applied his Krav Maga moves, which seemed to have mutated to a more effective level due to his own unique set of personal attributes.

After the session, he made his way home to prepare for his meeting with Sophia.  She occupied most of his thoughts throughout the last twenty-four hours. He wanted to make this next session special. On his way to Wood Avenue, he stopped at a florist along Rue Sainte-Catherine and bought a bouquet of beautifully bloomed red roses, and further down the street stopped at a small Greek bakery and bought a sumptuous walnut syrup cake covered with chocolate ganache.

Ian finally arrived at her door with flowers and food in hand. He knocked gently and was received by Sophia. Enthusiastically Ian presented his gifts, “Sophia, I have a couple of things for you!” But Sophia bestowed a dispirited expression. Ian immediately sensed something was amiss, and as the door opened he saw Damien sitting next to their study table and facetiously said, “Ian!  Come on in and join us. Wow, you brought flowers. And is that something from a bakery? Very generous and thoughtful of you.”

Ian slowly approached the table and set down his gifts, “Damien, why are you here?”

Damien responded in a very professional tone, “Well Ian, I think you might need some remedial training. It appears you have confided in Sophia and told her your real identity and background story.”

Ian immediately looked over at Sophia who was standing on the other side of the room. She avoided Ian’s gaze by turning toward her apartment window.

“Please don’t get upset with Sophia, as part of your training, we asked Sophia to see if she could get you to compromise yourself. She did not disclose her means, but just that you provided her with your true identity. Ian, this is why we train, to minimize the risk of breaching one’s personal security and keep you safe.

There are two things to learn from this; one, you can and were manipulated by a close relationship. As I mentioned to you earlier, a good field agent can establish trust with someone creating the right environment for sharing secrets. Two, you now have first-hand experience on how to use this skill. It’s a hard lesson, but one you’ll surely remember. Who knows, you might need to do the same thing to someone else.”

Ian remained silent and still stared at Sophia.

“Ian, I see you are still harboring some resentment, I need you to accept this experience as a valuable training exercise and I want you and Sophia to continue your language lessons. If this bothers you too much then perhaps you are not cut-out for such an operation.”

Ian heard the challenge in Damien’s voice. He was upset and disappointed in Sophia and even hurt, thinking her affection for him was all fabricated, but he did not want to fail in his goal and accepted Damien’s challenge.

Damien continued, “Ok kids, I think this is probably enough for today. Ian, go home and think about what you ultimately want to do. If you wish to continue, then proceed as usual with Yury and Sophia tomorrow.”

It didn’t take Ian long to resolve his feelings and to continue his focus on the training and preparations. Over the next several weeks he did continue with Yury and even with Sophia. Initially, his sessions with Sophia were strained, some awkward silences, but both elevated their behavior to that which is expected for the seriousness of this kind of work.

Ian’s twentieth birthday was approaching, and Damien fully aware of such personal details arranged a birthday dinner celebration for the evening of December 10th at Bens a downtown delicatessen located on Boulevard de Maisonneuve. Damien was quite fond of the famous Montreal Smoked-Meat sandwich and thought it an appropriate place for Ian, Yury, Sophia and himself to celebrate Ian’s future.

It was Wednesday, December 10th and Ian’s birthday get-together couldn’t have asked for a warmer December night in Montreal. The group met at 7:00 PM and Damien arranged for a secluded booth in one of the corners. Displayed around the restaurant’s yellow painted walls were eight by ten framed autograph photographs of all the famous entertainers, politicians and of course Montreal Canadien hockey players who frequented Bens.

The group was seated by one of the cheerful and witty waiters. They all ordered Smoked-Meat sandwiches, French fries, and a Pepsi. Damien initiated a cheerful conversion, though he continued with Ian’s cover name Peter as Yury still didn’t know his true identity and Damien felt it good form to maintain his cover.

“I would like to raise a toast to Peter on his twentieth birthday and to inform him that after conferring with my distinguished training partners who are present here and our people back in Tel Aviv, we are recommending your travel to Argentina commence this New Year’s day Thursday, January 1st.”

Damien reached into his blazer’s inside pocket and pulled out an envelope, “Peter, this is your open-ended ticket to Argentina. You will be flying Air Canada to Mexico City and then Aerolíneas Argentinas non-stop to Buenos Aires. The money we initially gave you to buy the ticket you can keep for your expenses, there is also some additional money in this envelope. We still have other logistics to cover, which we can do at this Friday’s meeting. Congratulations Peter, you have done very well in your training and we’re all proud of you. For the next couple of weeks, I suggest you take some downtime and relax. We’ll meet a couple of more times before you depart.”

Ian was quite pleased with knowing he was ready and that his training team felt the same way. He possessed a level of confidence and understanding which was absent when he started the process, it was a psychological advantage he really needed to make the mission a reality.

At that moment, a very entertaining Bens waiter came to their table with a small cake displaying twenty candles. They sang a quiet version of Happy Birthday, as Damien was trying to be faithful to his own advice about not drawing attention to oneself.

After dinner, they left Bens together and on Boulevard de Maisonneuve, they all went their separate ways, except for Sophia, who turned around from her easterly direction and ran back to Ian who was heading home to Westmount.

“Ian, wait up. Can I walk with you for a few minutes? I want to talk to you about something.”

Ian, though still with mixed feelings welcomed her to walk along with him.

“Ian, I just want you to know I do really care for you. Yes, Damien asked me to see if I could manipulate you, which I thought would be easy since I really do have feelings for you. I also want to tell you something else. My real name isn’t Sophia Ramirez, it’s Janet Rodriguez.”

Janet started to tell her story of her time in Argentina, about the disappearance of her father, how she and her mother ended up in Montreal and how she came to work for the Mossad. Ian was skeptical, thinking this might be some final farewell test, but when Janet started to cry as she talked about her father, Ian believed her and appreciated the parallel between the Nazi death squads with those of the fascist regime in Argentina suspected of taking her father. He also understood why Janet had joined the Mossad, she, like him, wanted justice in whatever form possible.

“I really wish you all the success in your mission in Argentina. Maybe we will meet again. Please keep in touch Ian.”

“Thanks’ Sophia, ah, Janet (and they both laughed). I really appreciate your support and for being honest with me about your background. I’ll look you up when I get back.”

After those departing words, Janet extended her arms around Ian and kissed him goodbye.

 

Part 2 – The Redeemer

“Nobody can give you freedom. Nobody can give you equality or justice or anything. If you’re a man, you take it.”

Malcolm X

 

Chapter 14

On Friday, December 19th Ian met Damien for the final time at the quaint La Binerie dinner in Mont-Royal. They found one of the few small wooden tables next to the wall available.  Damien was very happy to see Ian for this final meeting. It was an important meeting for Ian as he would receive the final set of logistics and materials for his stay in Buenos Aires. Damien pulled from his satchel a large manila envelope.

“Ian, inside this envelope is a lot of information you’ll need for your trip. Let’s start with your residence. We have secured you a one bedroom apartment in the Belgrano barrio. This area is heavily settled by German immigrants, especially ones of interest to us, who arrived after the war by means of the “Ratline”. Your apartment is situated on the edge of the German community, next to Buenos Aires’ Chinatown. This apartment is pre-paid by our contact in Buenos Aires, you will never have to deal with the landlord. Should you have an issue with the apartment, for example, a clogged toilet, you will call our contact and he will get the right people to fix things. The contact’s name is Sebastián Salazar, he will be waiting for you at the baggage carousel after you land at Ezeiza International Airport.

We have also provided the names of the Business Development officers of several European and North American embassies in Buenos Aires. The most important one is Horst Fisher of the German consulate.  We encourage you to meet as many officials as possible but would suggest developing a deeper relationship with Horst Fisher. The objective is to have Horst introduce you to the Plant managers at the various German companies in the Greater Buenos Aires area. The point being is simple, as you visit and spend time with these companies you may be lucky and have a visual sighting of Gertrude Sommer. In lieu of this, you might just be able to establish friendships with some of the German ex-pats, which could conceivably lead you to Gertrude Sommer.

You will be providing these business officials the following cover story; that you decided to defer your University studies to gain some life experiences through travel and you also have an academic interest in International Business and Economics and hope to put together a research article on the economic influences of Western manufacturing methods in South American countries.

We also listed about twenty restaurants and bars that seem to cater to the German community. Remember what I told you about your presence, keep a low profile, yet establish connections and friendships in the community.

You have a doctor’s appointment set up for this Monday, there are several shots and medical supplies we will be providing you, all the information is in the packet.

Now to tell you about our local contact Sebastián Salazar. This person will be obliged to provide you with any support you need. But, he will have no idea about your mission or your association with the Mossad.  It is extremely important you not disclose this information as it could create a very dangerous situation for you. You really need to live and breath the cover story we have provided you. We have hired Sebastián before through an “agency” that specializes in providing local Fixers.  A Fixer is a person who gets things done for you, sometimes illegally or deviously. He has been instructed not to ask you any questions about your work. But we realize you will probably be spending a lot of time with him, so we suggest you provide him your cover story. He will probably wonder who is financing you and that person’s relationship to you. If you feel it necessary, you can tell him after your parents died you were left with some inheritance which is managed by an uncle who thought it was a good idea to hire someone local to assist you.

Your apartment has already been furnished. One of our contractors in Uruguay set up the exact same short-wave equipment we had provided you to use at your home. You will need to provide an update to our New York City office once a week by short-wave at your designated time, using our basic codes. You may also reach out to us by Morse-Code any time of day, there will be someone listening, but if you don’t contact us at your scheduled time, we will suspect something’s wrong. You may have simply forgotten or were tied up in traffic. We will allow a three-hour window of delay before we initiate an operational response. By the way, you can keep the equipment we gave you during your training. Perhaps your mother would enjoy doing some occasional Morse-Code.

Any questions before we depart?”

Ian understood everything quite well and overall felt confident from his training and excited about getting started on this life-changing journey.

“You do look ready Ian.  I’ve prepared many field agents over the years. You are actually the youngest I’ve worked with but I can tell you, I think you are as well-equipped and prepared as any I’ve trained.  You have done extremely well, and if I could put this in your hockey terms, you would be my number one draft pick. Before we leave I would like to give you a couple of going-away presents.”

Damien again reached into his satchel and pulled out a small wrapped box. Ian with appreciation and respect thanked Damien for all his support and carefully opened the box. Inside he found a Seiko 6105 Dive watch. The type typically worn by US soldiers in Vietnam. But this was a very unusual variant of the model, it had a concealed Garrote wire inside which could be extracted from the watch through a hidden ring. A weapon which could be used in many lethal ways.

“Ian, I hope you like it. It’s not just a great reliable dive watch, but it also offers you some protection.”  He demonstrated the use low behind the table.

“You see, you can pull the wire out from the watch to cut things or even use it in a deadlier way. I think you might have seen it used in some spy movies. Please don’t think I expect you to be using this, I just thought it was a fun gift or conversation piece for you.”

Damien then pulled a bag from his coat pocket and handed it to Ian.  “This is another item which will be more practical, also something you might have seen in the movies.”

Ian pulled out a very small camera, including a small case and a few rolls of film.

“Ian, this is a Minox BL camera and it has been a very popular and reliable accessory for all our field operatives. It can take as many as fifty high-quality pictures without reloading. The size is amazing, isn’t it? Easily concealed in the palm of your hand.

If you have photos you need to process, in your packet of information is a contact of ours in Uruguay. He’s right across the Río De La Plata river in the town of Colonia del Sacramento. You can get there in about two hours from your apartment, which includes the time by ferry. The contact there will take your film, process it and get it to us quickly. You can follow up with any description when you do your regular shortwave update.

Oh, one last thing. We created a bank account for you with a non-profit status at the Bank of Montreal under the name of Angel Fund. We plan on compensating you for your work, we only think this fair. We’ll determine an amount to deposit into your account once you are finished in Buenos Aires.

Well, my friend, it’s been very nice working with you. I wish you all the luck in your efforts. Remember we will be supporting you along the way.  Please phone me at any time prior to your departure should you have any questions or concerns.”

Both men rose to their feet, shook hands for a longer than normal time and left La Binerie going their separate ways.

Ian spent his remaining time in Montreal with his family and friends. Enjoying diners on Montreal’s ethnic food section of town called The Main, perhaps going there hoping to see Janet.

His mother Hatty being concerned about Ian’s adventure made sure he had a good set of luggage and helped Ian secure several pairs of pants, shorts, and shirts. On the following Monday, he received all the required immunizations and started getting butterflies about his plans. He relaxed by continuing to read The Count of Monte Cristo.

Finally, 1976 arrived. It was New Year’s morning and Ian woke up to a breakfast feast prepared by Hatty. He spent most of the day conversing with his parents and packing and repacking his bags. At 9:30 PM André and Hatty drove Ian to Dorval airport for his 12:15 AM Air Canada flight to Mexico City. There, he would board an Aerolíneas Argentinas flight non-stop to Buenos Aires.

Standing by the gate the moment came when he hugged and kissed his parents’ goodbye. They were apprehensive to see their only son depart on his solo journey, similarly, Ian was feeling quite nervous about the unknown. The farewell elicited tears from all.

Ian boarded his flight and seemed lost navigating to his seat. This was only his third time out of Canada and his second time on an aircraft. His previous trips were with his parents. Once to Belfast, Northern Ireland to see his mother’s family, Vancouver Island, and a family road-trip vacation to Cape Cod.

The Air Canada Stewardess helped Ian to his seat which was next to the window and just bordering the smoking section behind him which was already in a haze of smoke. She then helped Ian store his overhead luggage. Ian thought she was attractive in her Air Canada outfit which included a silk scarf, a plaid skirt which was above the knees, black leather boots and a fitting white blouse with her Air Canada Wings attached. He guessed she was in her mid-twenties. She found Ian an attractive young man with a rugged look wearing a worn brown leather bomber jacket and jeans. She was also impressed by his polite demeanor.

Next to him in the middle seat was an overweight businessman in his forties. The aisle seat was occupied by attractive young women, who was probably a University student from Mexico. There was no talk amongst them.

The safety announcement started, and the young stewardess who had helped Ian to his seat demonstrated the safety features while periodically looking at Ian with a smile.  Ian appreciated the attention but was primarily focused on his trip. His nervous energy had exhausted him, but he found it hard to close his eyes and sleep. He remembered his father giving him some valium to take in case of such difficulties. He asked the stewardess for a cup of water and took one valium pill, the first he has ever taken. Six hours passed when he was awoken by the announcement of landing preparations for Mexico City International Airport. The last thing he remembered was taking off and seeing Montreal lit up at night and the outline of the St. Lawrence River.

Ian was groggy when he deplaned and made his way through a bustling terminal to the next gate for his Aerolíneas Argentinas connection to Buenos Aires. He had to wait in the airport for a couple of hours before he could board the flight. While sitting at the gate the Air Canada stewardess serendipitously walked by and gave Ian an enamored farewell smile.

The time came to board the final leg of his journey. In nine hours, he would be in Buenos Aires.

Chapter 15

During the last leg of the flight, Ian occupied himself watching the in-flight movie Jaws, reading The Count of Monte Cristo and reviewing in his mind all the instructions he received from Damien.

The plane finally touched-down in Buenos Aires at 6 PM. At this time, it would be dark in Montreal, but because of the switch in Hemispheres sunset was not until after 10 PM. Ian was also surprised by the very flat metropolitan area, he missed the mountainous terrane of Montreal.

After the plane taxied the passengers disembarked to the tarmac and walked to the Gate entrance. He immediately noticed how warm it was, just hours ago in Montreal it was below freezing. He entered the terminal and walked to the baggage area and noticed a tall, slender dark-haired man in his twenties holding a sign with the name “Peter Müller”.

Ian walked towards the man holding the sign. “Are you Sebastián?”

The man responded with much enthusiasm.

“Yes, yes! I am Sebastián Salazar.  You must be Mr. Müller. Welcome to Buenos Aires!  I will be your associate here, and will help you manage your way through this great city.”

Ian was impressed by Sebastián’s English and his very friendly and outgoing personality.

“Let me get your bags and we will be on our way to your apartment, which I think you will most like!”

Sebastián guided Ian to his car which was triple parked outside the terminal. The traffic congestion looked very intimidating to Ian and added a degree of anxiousness to his already uncertain state.  Then he saw Sebastián’s most unique looking car.

“Wow, what is it?”

“Oh, yes, this is a French Citroën Ami 8. I bought it used. Made here in Argentina in 1970. Do you like it?”

Ian found the model most unusual, it looked like a miniature station wagon and had a very striking turquoise color.

“Yeah, it’s great, I don’t recognize too many of the cars here.”

“We have many European models, Citroëns, Fiats, Peugeots, and some American models. Shall we go Mr. Müller?”

“Sebastián, you can call me Peter. You know, I think I should be calling you Mr. Salazar since you’re probably a few years older than me.” They both laughed and each felt a shared chemistry.

Just as Ian sat in the car, Sebastián stepped heavily on the gas and within seconds hit the brakes hard. This abrupt start and stop occurred constantly throughout their ride. The roads seemed chaotic as road markings were missing, lanes disappeared, cars didn’t stop at stop signs and traffic lights created a start-of-race mentality. Ian was feeling fortunate he had Sebastián driving, as he seemed to be quite calm and capable in such a hostile environment.

During their one hour drive from the airport to the Balgrano barrio, Ian was starting to get nauseous from Sebastián’s constant weaving in and out of traffic and hard braking. Ian’s auditory senses were also subjected to Sebastián’s tape deck blaring the popular Argentine rock band Almendra. But Ian was impressed by how skillful Sebastián was in speeding through the maze of back streets and even a few ally-ways to get to his apartment at 2685 Juramento.

They soon encountered a large protest march which was blocking their way. Many young people holding signs and yelling synchronized chats. Ian unfamiliar with Argentina’s politics asked Sebastián what they are protesting against.

“Peter, our politics are very confusing to understand and even dangerous to deal with. Maybe I can better explain them over a meal or a drink.”

In an effort to change the subject quickly, Sebastián started being the tour guide.

“Peter, you are going to like where you live. You’re next to Chinatown, and just about one and a half kilometers away from the Río de la Plata, our great river that separates Argentina and Uruguay. You also have a lot of great restaurants, bars, and shopping near your place. I’ll be very happy to take you on a tour of the area once you settle in.”

They finally arrived and parked right outside Ian’s apartment on Juramento, a one-way, narrow, tree-lined street. Along Juramento were many small shops occupying the first floor of most buildings with apartments occupying the second and third floors.  Ian’s apartment was above a small market owned by a Chinese family. The building was made of red brick and cement. It was simple in design and a typical residence for a middle-income family. Ian was curious about all the bars covering the doors and windows.

“Sebastián, is this a safe area?”

Sebastián laughed, “Oh yes, Peter, this is a great neighborhood, very safe, lots of young families, why do you ask?”

“Just that I haven’t lived in a place where there a lot of bars covering the windows and doors.”

“Oh, I understand. No, this is very normal in our cities.  People are just afraid of thieves stealing their belongings. We don’t even think about it, just normal for us. You don’t have bars from where you come from?”

“No, not in Montreal, but maybe we should.” And they both laughed.

“Ok Peter, let’s take your stuff up to your apartment. It’s unit four on the second floor overlooking the street.”

The Chinese family which managed the store on the street level gave a long and curious stare at the two young men heading up the stairs.  The young family included the parents, four daughters and one son. Their small grocery store offered a mix of local and Asian foods.

They entered the apartment to find a clean simple place, with a large combined living room, dining room, and kitchen, with a separate bathroom and bedroom off to the side. The furnishings were sparse; a modest table with two chairs, a couch, and coffee table. The walls were bare and painted light yellow. The main living space included one large window overlooking the street. Sunlight poured in from the western facing direction.

“Ian, I bought you some groceries which I left in the refrigerator and some canned goods in the cupboard. You have the store on the first floor and other markets down the street should you need anything else.

I also placed your radio equipment in the bedroom. It’s in the lowest drawer of your dresser.  The antenna is a wire that runs outside your bedroom window all the way to the roof. You should be able to get good reception. I hear listening to short-wave and doing Ham radio is a lot of fun. Enjoy it.

Welcome to Buenos Aires Peter. I know it must be a lot for you to absorb, just call me if you need anything. If I’m not at home, my Mother is usually there and will take a message. Her English is good so don’t worry my friend. Oh, I left my phone number on your dining room table.”

“Thank you Sebastián for all your assistance today. I really appreciate it. I’m wondering if you might be able to drive me to a few places tomorrow? Maybe starting at 10 in the morning? Or some other time when the traffic is better?”

Sebastián let out a loud laugh. “There is no good time to drive around here Peter, 10 AM is fine. Hey, would you like to go for a beer now?

“Thank you for asking Sebastián, but I’m worn out from the trip and I didn’t get much sleep on the flight maybe towards the end of the day tomorrow?”

Sebastián laughed again and gave Peter a long and friendly handshake goodbye.

Sebastián Salazar grew up in turbulent political time. He like Ian is an only child growing up in the fairly affluent area of Buenos Aires known as Recoleta. His father César was an Engineer and worked for Argentina National Railway. Unfortunately, during the political transitions, the railway system was de-emphasized and César lost his job. The country started to experience skyrocketing inflation and decreasing GDP during the first few years of the 1970’s. César could not find suitable work which would complement his education and experience. He ended up doing menial hourly work and then started to drink excessively. Eventually. taking his own life by hanging himself in his bathroom. It was a sad ending for a father whom his wife Mia and son Sebastián deeply loved and respected. They were forced to move to the less expensive neighborhood of La Boca. Here in this working-class barrio Mia continued her long hours of work as a nurse while Sebastián finished his degree in Graphic Design and Photography from the University of Buenos Aries.

It was also here that Sebastián became involved with Leftist politics and became a member of the Peronist Youth movement. On June 20, 1973, he was among a huge crowd of people waiting for the return of Juan Perón to assume the presidency. When Péron arrived, he addressed the crowd from an elevated platform. During his speech, camouflaged Right-Wing snipers fired on the crowd killing thirteen people and injured more than three hundred others. This was known as the Ezeiza massacre. Sebastián’s two friends were shot, one died and the other was severely wounded.

Based on such an experience some would become more militant and fervent in their views, but Sebastián resigned himself from trying to make a difference for his country and accepted the unsolvable political complexity that is Argentinean politics.

Through a Peronist Youth movement acquaintance, he was introduced to a small company specializing in providing local “guides” or as they became to be known as Fixers to foreign companies and governments.

Sebastian was also involved in another battle, that of his sexuality. During his school days, he was quite the ladies’ man, but it wasn’t until he joined the Peronist Youth movement he recognized and accepted his true sexual identity. In fact, he was very much in love with one of the victims of the Ezeiza massacre, unfortunately, it was an unrequited love. Though Argentina had a history of acceptance, they didn’t really have an understanding. During the 1930’s the government had a mass arrest of homosexual men, this actually prompted the government to legalize and regulate heterosexual prostitution based on the contention that heterosexual men were turning to homosexuality out of a lack of opportunity. This warped thinking was still in the minds of some, mainly the Right-Wing extremists, who were especially violent towards homosexuals. The gay community found itself aligned to the political Left and worked with them to advance their civil rights.

Sebastian accepted who he was, and integrated easily into the Buenos Aires gay community, though, he was still careful not to publicly display his sexual identity. He found himself immediately attracted to Ian, but restrained himself and resolved to behave professionally when they were together.

Leaving Ian’s apartment, Sebastián drove away in his Citroën Ami 8, looking forward to assisting Ian the next day.

Ian, exhausted and feeling anxious took another valium, set his alarm clock to 8 AM and went to bed. The next day he would call some of the Foreign Consulates and try to meet with their Business Development Officers. He also thought about checking out some of the bars and nightclubs on his list, perhaps with the accompaniment of Sebastián. His last thoughts while in bed were of Gertrude Sommer and how important it was to find her. This was not a vacation.

Chapter 16

The alarm went off loudly at 8 AM.  Ian awoke and stretched across his bed to shut it off. He noticed a fine day to begin his pursuit. Sunlight poured through the window and illuminated his apartment brightly. He started getting ready and was thankful for the groceries Sebastián left him, as he was famished. He liked Sebastián and appreciated his support, even though he was getting paid to do so.

At 9 AM Ian retrieved his list of Embassies and Consulates to call. He decided to give the German Embassy a shot. But first, he had to figure out how to make a local phone call, after a few attempts the phone rang, “Guten Morgen, das ist die Deutsche Botschaft. Kann ich Ihnen helfen?”

The receptionist at the German Embassy informed Ian, Mr. Fisher was in a meeting and took a message. Thirty minutes later Ian’s phone rang and Ian was speaking with Horst Fisher. By the tonal quality of his voice and his position within the embassy Ian suspected he was a man in his fifties.

Ian explained the reason for the call and asked if they could meet for an informational interview. Horst Fisher, finding the request irregular but interesting suggested he come by his office at the Embassy towards the end of the day at 4 PM.

Though it was a small accomplishment, after the call, Ian had a feeling of progress towards finding Gertrude Sommer.

He next called the Italian and Austrian Embassies and secured meetings with their staff members for the following week. But Ian was primarily concerned with developing a close relationship with Horst Fisher and knew he had to have a successful meeting to encourage additional contact. Horst Fisher had to believe his story which could lead to introductions within the German business community.

Ian, still jet-lagged and tired started feeling anxious about the impending meeting. He worried he might not be convincing enough to be taken seriously or that Horst Fisher would consider his endeavor wasteful and an annoyance to his business contacts. In preparation Ian started practicing out-loud what he would say to Horst Fisher, he repeated his cover story several times and started thinking about all the details of his cover family. He felt confident in mastering the details but still worried the meeting might not go well.

Arriving on time was Sebastián, he came with some medialunas which are Argentina’s version of a croissant. Ian appreciated the gesture and they discussed what they would be doing prior to Ian’s 4 PM meeting at the German Embassy. Sebastián suggested some sightseeing to fill the time and Ian gladly accepted.

Jumping into Sebastián’s colorful Citroën Ami 8 they made their way through some heavy traffic to Plaza de Mayo. The plaza has always been a political focal point since Argentina’s independence from Spain in 1816. They arrived and walked around for a few minutes, which coincided with yet another political voice of the times, University students protesting the actions of the various Right-Wing organizations. They were loud and passionate. Ian started to become curious in understanding and unraveling the Gordian Knot which is Argentinian politics. Sebastian would try and answer his questions quickly and quietly as he didn’t feel comfortable having an open discussion about them in public.

Sebastián then took Ian to Caminito street, which consisted of brightly painted houses as a backdrop to many artists presenting and selling their work. Ian saw a small painting of Ferdinand the Bull, one of his favorite childhood books. He bought the painting which he thought would domesticate his bared walled apartment. He also saw some significance in the story as it related to Argentina.

They next went to one of Buenos Aires’ oldest public squares, the Plaza Dorrego. A very active large farmers market was attracting many shoppers.  Next to the market were several purveyors of antiques and a few cafes. Sebastián suggested they get a coffee at one of the outdoor cafes. The day was still beautiful, with a clear blue sky and a warm sun. An attractive waitress came for their order, Sebastián requested two Cortados, which is the local variant of the macchiato.

As they were enjoying their coffee’s they heard the music of a bandoneon playing and several meters away saw a couple dancing the Tango. It was a notable moment for Ian. The woman was beautiful in her short red dress, her dark hair rolled up into a bun, dancing nimbly in ankle high black stiletto shoes. Her partner was an older gentleman with grey hair, a slim figure in all black, wearing a neckerchief and leading the couple with precision. Ian truly felt he was in Argentina. Should he not fulfill his mission, these types of experiences still offered something of value and meaning to his life.

The dancers and musicians were taking a break when Sebastián decided to give Ian a better understanding of Argentina’s politics. He talked about the different factions and Juan Perón’s return to the Presidency. Trusting Ian, he disclosed his involvement in the Peronist Youth movement and the Ezeiza massacre. He felt Ian was sympathetic to the ideals of true democracy and freedom for Argentina but was cautious not to influence him too much as he didn’t want Ian to be in any danger, which would also put himself in danger.

The time was getting close to Ian’s appointment with Horst Fisher at the German Embassy, it would take about half an hour to drive back to the Balgrano barrio, which coincidentally was Ian’s neighborhood. They arrived about 10 minutes early and parked outside the security fencing of the compound.

“Sebastián, I think it best if you wait here. I don’t think the meeting will be too long maybe thirty minutes.”

Ian exited the car and walked by a row of Jacaranda trees coming to the main gate. His identification was matched against the appointment list and he was allowed to enter the Embassy. He was directed down a hallway to Horst Fisher’s office. The secretary announced Ian’s arrival via the intercom and told Ian he was ready to see him.

Just before entering Horst Fisher’s office Ian remembered Damien’s observation training sessions, one which dealt with knowing the personality of a person by how they are dressed or how their living area or office is arranged and decorated. Immediately he observed an extremely clutter free office, very clean, and very few personal items on the walls or desk. This indicated a man who was serious, task-oriented, and to the point. His personality aligned to that of “Type-A”, the current term describing a high-achieving workaholic. There was just a couple of items on his mostly vacant desktop, a little German flag and what appeared to be some kind of military shoulder patch.

Sensing a no non-nonsense man, Ian immediately started to describe his academic interests and the research study he was doing on the influence of International manufacturing on the local culture and economy. Ian could sense Horst Fisher being bored and unconcerned. He had to do something to motivate Fisher or he would waste an important intermediary to the German Ex-Pat community and industry making it more difficult to find Gertrude Sommer.

He sensed the meeting was coming to an end after only fifteen minutes when Horst Fisher asked Ian a question.

“Mr. Müller, you don’t seem to have a French-Canadian name. Are you of German descent?”

Immediately Ian knew how he could leverage this question to turn things around.

“Oh yes, my late father was Hans Müller, he actually came to Canada as a Prisoner of War. He served under Rommel with the 90th Light Infantry Division in North Africa.”

Ian noticed Fisher’s face light up, he just might have secured an entrée into the German business community.

“That is amazing Mr. Müller, you should have told me this sooner. Your father served under a great Field Marshall. They had much success in North Africa. You should be very proud of him. I also served under a great Field Marshall, Erich Von Manstein!  I was with the 11th Army when Field Marshall Manstein took command of the 11th and we invaded the Crimean Peninsula in September of 1941. See here on my desk is my 11th Army patch. If our Führer had allowed his Field Marshalls to conduct their own battles we would have won!”

Fisher spoke with passion and nostalgia; he was a man who still embraced the ideology of the Third Reich. Again, remembering Damien’s insights on playing to a person’s interest and passions Ian could take advantage of these sentiments.

Horst Fisher reached into his desk drawer and ironically pulled out a bottle of Canadian Club Whisky and poured two full shot glasses.

” Mr. Müller, this moment calls for a toast to your father and to our Fatherland! Prost!”

This was the first-time Ian had taken a shot of Whisky and came away coughing and gulping for air, while Horst Fisher laughed cheerfully.

“Well done Herr Müller!  My contacts will all be delighted to meet you. I will make a few calls on Monday, call me on Wednesday and I will have a few companies you can visit.”

“Thank you so much, Herr Fisher!”  Ian tried to warm up to Fisher in return. “It’s great to meet you and to meet someone like my father who served our Fatherland.”

“Where are you staying Müller?”

“In the Balgrano barrio, not too far from here.”

“Wonderful Müller, I must have you over to meet my family. My wife Hilda is a great cook! We have two boys around your age, I’m sure you would become good friends.”

They both got up and Horst Fisher gave Ian a robust handshake while placing his other hand on Ian’s shoulder shaking him with the vigor of a good friend.

“Auf Wiedersehen Herr Müller, don’t forget to call me on Wednesday of next week.”

Ian left the office thankful the meeting ended successfully. He initially gave himself praise based on his trained observation and quick thinking skills, but not much further down the hallway, he felt he was just lucky.

Outside Sebastián was leaning against a Jacaranda tree next to the car smoking a Parisiennes cigarette. He could tell from the quick cadence in Ian’s walk the meeting was a success.

“Ian my friend! I believe the meeting went well, no?”

“Very well Sebastián, you ready for that drink?

“Yes, Ian! And I know a good place.”

Sebastián revved his engine and tore out into the street, for about five meters at least before he hit the brakes. Traffic was at a stand-still.

He decided to take Ian to one of the older classical styled bars in Buenos Aires, the Bar De Cao. Located in the Monserrat barrio it took them a half-hour to get there. The bar looked more like a library. It had high cabinets and bookshelves displaying a wide variety of wine bottles, spirits, and glasses. Sebastián and Ian settled at a wooden table next to one of the cabinets. They ordered beer, picadas, and some tortillas. They enjoyed their meal and each other’s jokes. Sebastián abruptly went off to the bathroom. Several minutes later Ian heard a loud argument just outside the men’s room door. A man was yelling at Sebastián and seemed pretty upset, he was joined by a couple of his friends, who also participated in the shouting match. Ian’s Spanish wasn’t proficient enough to understand the heated words. The men were in their mid to late twenties. They were all good sized and Ian started to be concerned for Sebastián.  But the bartender and waitress were able to calm the men down and they left with long stares at Sebastián as he came back to the table.

“Sebastián?”

“It’s no problem Peter, just a misunderstanding, I’m sorry about causing a scene. We should finish up and leave.”

It was around 6:30 PM when they walked out of the Bar De Cao, and down Matheu street to their parked car. Out of the corner of Ian’s eye, he could see the same three men Sebastián had the argument with coming across from the other side of the street towards them. Ian’s instinct told him to be prepared for a confrontation.

Two of the three men walked up to Sebastián and caught him off guard, while the other stood a few feet away keeping an eye on Ian. The argument continued between the two men and Sebastián, suddenly the two men started to beat Sebastián.

Ian quickly moved towards the altercation while the third man who was keeping an eye on Ian rushed to intercept him. Ian was prepared as this third man threw a large winding swing with his fist towards Ian’s head. Ian’s training kicked in, and he quickly deflected the man’s blow, while striking him in the throat and the groin at the same time incapacitating the man to the ground. The dispatched man was gasping for air as Ian had collapsed his larynx.

The two men had already beaten Sebastián to the ground when they turned their focus towards Ian. Both ran towards him swinging wildly with their fists. Ian, ducked, deflected and out-maneuvered them while stunning one of the men with an open palm blow of his hand to the man’s face which broke his nose. At the same time, he launched a fierce kick to the other man’s knee, which actually inverted the joint causing some bone to break through the skin completely disabling the man to the ground. The stunned man with the broken and severely bleeding nose recovered his senses and continued to fight. Before he could throw a punch, Ian with the torque of a top, spun around and sent a round-house kick to the man’s head completely rendering him unconscious.  All three assailants were lying on the ground groaning in pain or simply unconscious. Ian surprised himself on how easy he was able to neutralize his opponents. It felt like they were moving in slow motion making it easy to apply his Krav Maga techniques.

“Sebastián! Are you ok?”

“Yes, I think so Peter. How did you do that? The fighting?”

“First, you have to tell me why these men came after you.”

“Ok Peter, can we go back to your apartment, I think that will be the best place to talk no?”

They quickly got into their car and drove away, Sebastián looked back in his side-view mirror and saw the three men still lying on the ground while some local residents and pedestrians came to help them.

The ride was quiet back to Ian’s apartment. Sebastián parked his car and they walked by the Chinese family whose market was still open with customers. They stared at the two men, as Sebastián’s face was swollen and bloody from the beating he received. Entering Ian’s apartment both sat down at the table.

“Ok Sebastián, what happened? Why were those men attacking you?”

Chapter 17

“Peter, I’m so sorry for being the cause of all the trouble. I thought I knew one of the guys.  I’m pretty sure he goes to the same bar I hang out at. It’s a gay bar? I didn’t think it was necessary to tell you but I’m gay. So, I followed him into the bathroom. It is a private place to talk no? I’m very attracted to this man. But I didn’t realize his other friend was in the bathroom at the same time. Our encounter must have greatly embarrassed him in front of his friend. He must still be fighting with himself over his sexuality. His mucho friends are probably the type who beat up my kind of people. So, I think he acted this way to prove to his friends he isn’t gay. He actually didn’t beat me; he was the one watching you. You beat him badly. I’m sure I won’t be seeing him for a long time. I do feel sorry for him; it’s hard not being true to one’s nature.”

Though Ian was not exposed to peers who were gay, or at least didn’t realize it nor had he any exposure to the gay community in Montreal, he was raised by his parents to be respectful of people no matter their circumstances and to judge people by who they are deep inside. Though he was a bit shocked at Sebastian’s announcement he also felt empathy for his struggle, especially in the current political and social climate.

“Thanks for sharing this private part of your life with me. I had no idea. I would have never thought you were gay. Sorry, I just haven’t been close to too many gay people. It must be difficult dealing with all the hostility. Just to let you know it doesn’t bother me at all, I hope you feel comfortable with me. I do appreciate your support and your friendship.”

“Oh yes Peter, I do feel comfortable with you, you are good guy and fun to be with. But how did you learn to fight like that? You looked like Bruce Lee!”

“Oh, that is just from some martial arts training I did in the past. I was probably just lucky and they were drunk.”

“No you weren’t just lucky Peter and they weren’t just drunk, you beat them so quickly and it seemed without too much effort no? You didn’t even allow them to touch you!”

“Thanks, Sebastian, I can only say it was a combination of training and luck. Well, you better get going, and I need to do a few things before the evening is over. I’ll give you a call tomorrow and maybe we can go to another “fun” bar. Don’t forget to put some ice on your face and get that swelling down.”

They both laughed and Sebastian gave Ian a two-handed handshake goodbye. A few minutes later Ian decided to transmit to the Mossad office in New York.

Back in New York City on 95th street between Second and Third Avenue, the Mossad rented an apartment which was staffed 24/7 by young Mossad agents posing as University students. Several worked out of the nondescript apartment building in the Spanish Harlem section of town. They manned telephones, radios, and other communication equipment supporting the various Mossad field operations around the Americas. This Saturday evening Adam Samuels and Daniel Hoffman were taking the night shift. Both were in their early twenties fresh out of Tel Aviv University. They were arguing who would win Super Bowl X between the Pittsburgh Steelers and Dallas Cowboys when they received a CQ call coming in on their Ham Radio.

“Hey, Daniel it’s VE2RAQ coming in on the twenty-meter band!  Get ready to transcribe!”

Daniel transcribed the short burst of Dahs & Dits.

“Adam, it’s Raguel. He says the White King (Ian) had a great meeting with the embassy in his location. He is settled in and the White Queen (Sebastián) has been very helpful. The White King and Queen had an encounter with some drunks. The White King removed the three pieces from the board. Make Saturday at 10am our weekly check-in time. Over.”

Immediately after the transmission, Adam sent a dispatch to Damien in Tel Aviv with Ian’s update.

The next morning at the Mossad’s headquarters in Tel Aviv, Damien entered Director Yitzhak Hofi’s office and discussed Ian’s first field report.

“Yitzhak it looks like our young Ian has connected with the German embassy and probably will have some business connections. It also looks like he and his Fixer had some confrontation at a local bar. Ian indicates he ‘took them off the board’, I think he means his training with Yury “kicked in”, pardon the pun.”

“Well Damien, I give the kid credit for just getting to Argentina. My expectations are low but my hopes are high for the kid. But what do we do if he finds Gertrude Sommer? I guess we could consider some well-executed extraction with a Shayetet Thirteen team, but then after the Adolf Eichmann capture and the fall-out we experienced from those “sympathetic countries”, we may be putting ourselves at greater risk for a retaliatory strike. Plus, I really don’t think Prime Minister Rabin would approve of such a mission. We might have to resort to a choice below our own moral and ethical code, an in-country assassination of Gertrude Sommer. But of course, young Ian was not specifically trained this way nor would he possess enough personal vengeance to carry out such an act of pre-meditated violence.”

“Ok Yitzhak, I will plan for the possibility of finding Sommer. In the meantime, let’s see where our boy leads us.”

The next morning Ian awoke around 9 AM, he made himself some breakfast and wrote a letter to his parents informing them all went well settling into Buenos Aries.

Later in the morning, he went downstairs to buy a few items from the Chinese family market. The shopping trip was more of an excuse to get to know his neighbors.  He introduced himself to Mr. and Mrs. Lu and gave his cover story. They introduced Ian to their sons Peng and Hock, ages ten and eight respectively. The parents of Mr. and Mrs. Lu emigrated from the coastal area of Fujian Province in 1949, just after Chinese Communist leader Mao Zedong declared the creation of the People’s Republic of China (PRC). Their children Takswan Lu and Yoke Chang met through their families, married and started Lu’s market. Many of the Chinese who emigrated between 1914 – 1949 established homes in the Belgrano barrio of Buenos Aires, the establishment of a Chinatown was starting to emerge. Ian established a very cordial relationship with the Lu’s and had an exceptionally playful connection with their boys.

At noontime, Ian gave Sebastián a call and suggested they get lunch somewhere. He arrived shortly.

“Peter! Buenos días! Cómo estás amigo?”

“Buenos días Sebastián. Your face looks better this morning, did you put ice on it last night.”

“Oh yes Peter, I did what you suggested, yes, it is much better no? To celebrate your great victory last night, I want to take you to one of the oldest restaurants in Buenos Aires called El Imparcial. I hear it was the first restaurant in Argentina to have washrooms for the customers.”

“Sounds good Sebastián, any restaurant with bathrooms is ok with me.”

They laughed and drove the half-hour to the corner of Salta and Avenue Hipólito Yrigoyen. The restaurant was located on the corner of a four-way narrow and busy intersection. There was a line outside the door and they had to wait a while to be seated.

Over two Quilmes beers and Sopa de Mariscos (seafood soup) they continued their discussion of the previous evening.

“Peter, I’m again so sorry about last night. What I would like to recommend for tonight is to take you to one of my favorite bars. I promise you, there will be no fighting. What do you think.”

“Sounds good Sebastián. Why don’t you come by and pick me up at 9 PM?”

During the later afternoon, back at his apartment, Ian started noticing a disturbance coming from within his stomach, he initially discounted it as a full stomach from lunch, perhaps overeating, but then ran to the toilet experiencing explosive diarrhea.  He ran to the toilet five more times during the rest of the afternoon and then decided to go see Mr. Lu as he noticed a small medicine section in his store.

Feeling weak and his stomach cramping Ian made his way downstairs. Mr. Lu was sitting at the counter going over his inventory ledger. Mr. Lu raised his eyes to see Ian and immediately knew his ailment. Ian provided some additional gruesome details while Peng and Hock laughed loudly at Ian acting out his bathroom problem. Mr. Lu reached up into a shelf and grabbed several small vials each containing many small pills of medicine.

“Peter, this is Chinese Herbal medicine for your stomach problem. Take one vial every three hours with a glass of salt water and you will feel better.”

Miraculously, at 9 PM when Sebastián arrived Ian felt much better and the toilet urges ceased. He was amazed by the restorative properties of the Chinese medicine.

Sebastián drove Ian to his regular bar, Contramano’s, which was down towards the center of town. They arrived and walked down a short set of stairs into a narrow arched bar full of men illuminated by green and beige lighting. Ian looked at Sebastián with the expression “Why here?”.

“Peter, please not to get nervous, this is my bar. All my friends are here. You will be treated well and be safe here. Let’s forget last night and start again here. Ok?”

Ian shrugged his shoulders and accepted the situation. They sat down at a table, while Sebastián waved over to the bartender for two Quilmes. Sebastián seemed to relish the attention he was getting from his friends, due to having a young handsome gringo by his side. The bartender approached with the beers.

In Spanish, “Sebastian! Long time no see. My dear, what has happened to your face? And who is your handsome friend?”

“Hello Mario, I had a little accident last night. This is my friend from Canada, Peter. Peter this is Mario. I have known him a long time.”

“Ah, a Canadian, nice to meet you, Peter. What are you doing in Buenos Aires?”

Ian provided his cover story delivered with his polite style which ingratiated himself to Mario, who went back to the bar spreading the word amongst the regulars about this most interesting guest.

Sebastián and Peter drank a few more Quilmes, while different friends came by to say hello. At one point Sebastián got up and went over to Mario for a little chat, while he was away a couple of his friends occupied his vacant space at the table with Ian.  Ian while uncomfortable also seemed to enjoy the attention and friendliness of these locals.

Behind the bar, Sebastián and Mario had a deeper conversation. Whether Sebastián was trying to impress or just share his experience with someone close, he discussed all the details of the night before. How Ian was like a Bruce Lee beating three assailants so effortlessly. How well paid he was for taking care of Ian and even about his expensive short-wave Ham radio set.

The evening was coming to a close as Sebastián and Ian departed to a fond farewell from the crew of Contramano’s. Shortly afterward, Mario stepped into a back room located in a secluded part of the bar and made a phone call.

“Juan? This is Mario. You asked me to call you if I see something that might be unusual or interesting. There was a Canadian kid here this evening. He was with one of my friends, who told me some interesting things. Apparently, my friend gets a lot of money driving the kid around town each day. One night they got into a fight and the kid easily beat three grown men. My friend also told me the kid has some kind of communications equipment in his apartment, I thought you might want to know.”

“Very good Mario, this is the type of stuff I do want to hear about. Did your friend mention where the kid is living?”

“Yes, above Lu’s Market on Juramento street in the Belgrano barrio.”

Juan Carlos was one of several Right-Wing lieutenants reporting to the infamous José López Rega, commonly known as “The Warlock”. José Rega was serving as the Minister of Social Welfare but was more of a political manipulator of current president Isabel Martínes de Perón. She was the third wife of former leader Juan Péron who died of a heart attack in office in July 1974.  The Warlock was a Right-Wing fanatic and was as much trying to control the government as he was the society. His associates, like Juan Carlos, kept a watchful eye out for troublesome Leftists, opportunities to blackmail opponents and anybody who might be a threat to the Fascist politics of José Rega.

The next morning from the Warlock’s office in the parliament building Juan Carlos called in his assistant Astor Lopez.

“Astor, I want you to dispatch two of our guys to check out a Canadian in the Belgrano barrio. Here’s his address. Follow him and have the guys check out his apartment. I understand he has some communication gear. Tell them not to confront… for now. I expect a report on him and all our other suspects by the end of the week.”

Chapter 18

On Wednesday morning of the following week, Ian called Horst Fisher at the German embassy. Horst would be arranging factory tours at the various German operated companies in Buenos Aires.

“Hello Herr Fisher, this is Peter Müller, you asked me to call you today about some company introductions.”

“Herr Müller! Yes, it’s great to speak to you again. I have arranged two factory visits for you. One is the Mercedes Benz assembly plant located downtown near the waterfront and the other is Bayer, the pharmaceutical company located in Munro, which is close to where you live. Both plant managers are very enthusiastic about meeting you. I hope you don’t mind I shared some of your family background with them. I think it was helpful they know they’re helping ‘one of us’. I took the liberty to arrange the times; this Friday, 2 PM at Mercedes Benz and next Tuesday, 9 AM at Bayer.”

“Thank you so much, Herr Fisher, I really appreciate your assistance.”

“My pleasure Müller, you will be meeting with Martin Graf at Mercedes Benz and Otto Krause at Bayer. I’m sure they will take great care of you and provide you with a lot of useful information for your research.”

“Yes, this will be so helpful. Thank you again, Herr Fisher.”

“Oh, one other thing. I will be hosting our Embassy’s Summer party the last weekend of this month, and I would like to invite you to this event. It’s one of our biggest social events of the year. There will be great food, music, and good looking girls for you Müller. It will also be a chance for you to meet my family and other German embassy officials. We’ll also have several Argentine businessman and politicians in attendance. It should be a great event; you’ll love the atmosphere and you will be able to make some additional connections. What do you think Müller?”

“Thank you, Herr Fisher, I would love to come to your party.”

“Great, just give your address to my secretary and she will send you out an official invitation.”

Later that Friday, Sebastián drove Ian to the Mercedes Benz Manufacturing plant. Martin Graf came out to the lobby and met Ian.

“Peter Müller! Welcome!  I have heard much about you from Herr Fisher. You must come to my office for a chat.”

Ian entered Martin Graf’s office which presented a completely different profile to that of Horst Fisher’s office. It was full of memorabilia, books, photographs, maps, insignia’s, and flags. It was unsettling for Ian to actually see various Swastika’s displayed throughout the room.

“Peter, Horst told me about your father serving under Field Marshall Rommel, you must be very proud of him. I understand both your parents are no longer with us, I’m sorry for your loss, but we will provide you with an extended German family here. We have a great German community and many served the Fatherland just like your father. We may even have some here who had served with your father in the 90th Light Infantry Division. I’m sure they would be thrilled to talk with you.”

“Thank you, Herr Graf, I appreciate the kind words and the closeness of the German community here. I look forward to making some friends and learning more about my culture and homeland.”

“Yes Peter, you are German, just like us. I know your father was held in a POW camp in Canada, which is why you grew up there versus Germany, but we have great respect for Canada. They are good people and we have many immigrants there, especially in the Prairie Provinces of Saskatchewan and Manitoba.  Did I pronounce Saskatchewan correctly?  It’s an old Indian name, isn’t it?”

“Yes Herr Graf, you pronounced it correctly and the name is derived from the Cree language.”

“Peter, please call me Martin. Horst and I were talking about taking care of you during your stay here.  I understand he has invited you to the Embassy’s big summer bash.  You will love it!  But I would also like to introduce you to our private German club. It’s a place we talk about old times and drink plenty of new beer, ha! I’ll write down the information for you. Now, let’s give you a tour!”

Martin Graf escorted Ian around the facility and explained the processing steps and other operational and cost objectives. Thinking Ian would find it important Graf discussed at length the export goals and how Germany and Argentina benefited from this mutual business relationship.

As Graf elucidated on the details, Ian could not help but focus on the employees. Perhaps it was the rare chance he might identify Gertrude Sommer.  He noticed mostly men in blue lab coats with the Mercedes Benz insignia sown on their backs assembling the car’s interiors and coordinating precisely with the movement of the conveyor line. Towards the end of the line, he saw women putting on the finishing touches; tapping on the Mercedes Benz badging and polishing their colleague’s fingerprints off the newly assembled cars. Ian was overwhelmed by how many of the women looked like Gertrude Sommer; all were blond and based on the appearance of both men and women the plant could have easily been located in Stuttgart.

At the end of the tour, Martin gave Ian the address to a private German club.

“Here Peter, come this evening to our club, the Brauhaus BA. It’s a great place to meet other Germans here in Buenos Aires. The guys will enjoy talking with you. Please come.”

“Thank you, Herr Graf. I will definitely be there.”

Ian had dinner that evening with Sebastián. They ate Empanadas Tucumanas (Meat pies), Asado (grilled meats) and had Alfajores (cookies) for dessert. After dinner, Ian asked Sebastián to drive him to the German club which was located in the Belgrano barrio, not too far from Ian’s apartment. Ian explained the invite came from the plant manager and told Sebastián he didn’t have to wait since it was a short walk home.

The Brauhaus BA club looked more like a residential home. It was a ranch-style house in a residential neighborhood. Ian knocked on the door and a large man in his fifties opened the door and just stared at Ian. It was an uncomfortable stare, as to tell the young man he was in the wrong place and was not welcomed. But Martin Graf yelled from the bar, “Helmut, he is my guest!”Führer

The large doorman, without saying a word let him pass. Ian’s instincts told him the large man was dangerous and came from a violent past. Approaching the bar, he was warmly greeted by Martin Graf.

“Peter you came! Well done! Gentlemen, this is Herr Peter Müller of Montreal. His father Hans fought for Field Marshall Rommel in North Africa.”  Martin addressed one of his friends, “Schneider, didn’t you also serve under Rommel?”

Max Schneider was a heavy-set man in his late fifties, who liked to drink and was very verbose.

“Yes Herr Graf, I served under the Field Marshall with the 7th Panzer Division when we had our revenge on France in 1940. He was a great leader and a smart tactician. He should have been our Führer!”  They all laughed.

While the conversation continued with Martin Graf’s friends reliving their wartime heroics, Ian couldn’t help but notice the decor of the club. Military banners and flags hung from the ceiling, photographs of major German cities where on the walls and in a dark corner a picture of Hitler himself surrounded by his generals. Ian sensed most of the members were ex-military and they still harbored strong sentiments for the Third Reich.

Graf’s friends were enjoying themselves questioning Ian about his father and sharing their service experiences. But one member, a slim, serious-looking man, just sipped his drink and silently observed Ian. This man was eventually introduced.

“Peter, I want you to meet Herr Klingemann, you can call him Werner. He is our “intelligence” man. He always looks this serious. They only assign this kind of man to the Gestapo.” He said laughing.

Ian could tell Werner Klingemann was not too happy with Graf’s joke. That revealing this kind of information is problematic, especially with someone new.

Klingemann was a Nazi who in 1941 was assigned to the Gestapo. He investigated cases of treason, espionage, and sabotage against the Nazi party. At that time, he enjoyed the power the government had given his organization, they had no judicial review oversight, thus they were above the law. They could detain and imprison people without judicial proceedings based on a legal process called Schutzhaft. On December 7th, 1941 Adolf Hitler issued the “Night and Fog” decree. Werner Klingemann and his associates rounded up thousands of political activists and suspected enemies of the state. The decree intended to intimidate local populations and those of occupied territories. Due process and normal citizen rights were null and void, families had no knowledge where their loved ones were taken. They just disappeared. The uncertainty and distress produced an atmosphere of fear and terror.  Prior to the war, Werner Klingemann was a clerk at a hotel, joining the Nazi party in 1939 he relished the power he was given with the Gestapo. Now in post-war Buenos Aires, he assumed the role of the unofficial local “secret police” within the German community.

Ian thought back to his training from Damien and immediately tried to ingratiate himself to Klingemann and to try to ease his concerns.

“Herr Klingemann, it is an honor meeting you. My father told me the men of the Gestapo were really the best detectives in the World.”

Klingemann’s expression to Ian’s comment revealed a look of skepticism and made Ian worry that he was not “buying it” and might even be more suspicious. This made Ian try even harder but to no avail. Klingemann’s deep steady and serious stare made Ian troubled.

The next morning after breakfast Ian got on the Ham radio set for his weekly report with New York and mentioned meeting several German war veterans, one of which was former Gestapo. He was informed by New York that his cover story information was being verified by someone calling the various institutions in Montreal. Ian immediately thought of Werner Klingemann, but the time-frame was too short from just meeting him last night. He wondered who could it be?

Chapter 19

Tuesday morning came around and Ian made his way to the Bayer facility to meet Otto Krause. Sebastián, as usual, provided the transportation and waited outside.

Otto Krause was a tall slim bald-headed man who reminded Ian of the character Colonel Klink on the popular television comedy show Hogan’s Heroes. Otto Krause was jovial, friendly and a bit quirky in his mannerisms. Unlike his peers at Mercedes Benz or the embassy, Otto Krause had a beautiful collection of local artwork displayed in his office. Ian sensed the man wasn’t tied to the past but saw the beauty in the future and within his current circumstances.  Ian liked Otto Krause and thought the man was quite different in nature from his peers, he was a lover, not a fighter.

“Peter, it’s so nice to meet you. Your research study sounds so interesting and very timely for the emergence of global companies like Bayer. I will have a secretary from our operations department give you a tour and then after that, we can talk some more back here in my office. What do you think Peter?”

“Thank you, Herr Krause, it sounds great. I really appreciate your time and arranging a tour for me.”

“You are so welcome Peter!”

Suddenly there was a knock on Otto Krause’s office door.

“Oh, here is your escort, Sonia Torres. Sonia, this is Peter Müller, he is visiting with us from Montreal, Canada. He’s half German so treat him at least half as nice as you treat me.”

The three laughed as Sonia and Peter shook hands. Immediately, Ian and Sonia sensed an attraction towards each other. Perhaps, it could not be helped as both seemed seduced by the common explanation of having ‘chemistry’.

Sonia was especially attractive with long brown shiny hair, a light-brown complexion, light-blue eye make-up and bubblegum colored lipstick. Her face displayed a perpetual smile, revealing brilliantly white teeth, her eyes were playful as were her expressions. She was alluring dressed in a light-blue pantsuit, with a cream-colored blouse loosely opened and standing in platform shoes. Modernly dressed she looked confident, self-assured and sexy.

Throughout the tour, their chemistry fueled non-stop conversation. They discussed their backgrounds, aspirations, family and the fun things to do in Buenos Aires.

“Peter, we have, as you say, happy hour at many bars after work. They are a lot of fun and most places provide food. It’s a great way to have a free meal. Would you like to check it out after work tonight?”

“That sounds great, I have been eating out a lot versus cooking myself, it’s getting a bit expensive so a free meal sounds good. Plus, it would be nice to continue our conversation.”

They both smiled at each other, a smile suggesting more than conversation was in store for them in their immediate future.

“Peter, would you be able to come back to pick me up here at 5 PM?”

“Not a problem Sonia, my friend Sebastián has been driving me around and we can come back and get you. He can bring us to whatever place you suggest.”

At the end of Peter’s tour, Sonia extended both her hands to him and took an extended look into his eyes.

“It’s great meeting you Peter, I really look forward to seeing you tonight.”

Peter then went back to meet with Otto Krause, and Otto not only talked business but also culture and the beauty of living in Buenos Aires. Ian was hoping deep down inside, Otto was not a former Nazi, and that he didn’t commit any war crimes, as he liked the man, and would hate to know his instinct was betrayed by some terrible past.

Ian came back to a waiting Sebastián, who was reading the morning Buenos Aires Herald. Sebastián liked the Herald as it always took a strong stand on human rights.

Ian told Sebastián about his scheduled rendezvous at 5 PM with Sonia and asked if he would like to join them at a local happy hour. Sebastián was pleased to be invited and suggested the two of them go to Isla Sarandí Park since it was such a nice warm Summer day. The Island Park was a short drive away.

At the park, Sebastián and Ian found a bench which looked out onto the World’s widest river, Rio de la Plata, also known in English as the River Plate.

“Peter, I need to talk to you about something important.”

“Sure Sebastián, does it have anything to do with the fight the other night?”

“No, no Peter, it has to do with our government. Today’s Buenos Aires Herald is warning people things will start getting worse here. Peter, it could be dangerous for you if you get connected with the wrong people. Like me.”

“What do you mean?”

“Peter, as I told you not long ago, I was a member of the Peronist Youth Movement. The current government worries about people like me. They feel we are enemies of the state; should we get into any kind of trouble, like the other night, and the authorities find out about my past, we could disappear like the others. Things are getting worse; our current president Isabel Peron is being manipulated by one of her cabinet Ministers José Rega. He’s known as “The Warlock” and is a very dangerous man. People feel he will overthrow the current government.  He has extreme Right-Wing political views, Fascist views.”

“Thanks for the warning Sebastián, I know there are problems, but I need to stay on here. I promise I will try and not bring any undue attention towards us, but I also don’t want you to feel in danger.  Should you not want to be my Fixer I could probably arrange for another, with no hard feelings.”

“No Peter, I want to continue with you. But I just want you to be aware of the current situation.”

“Thanks, Sebastián, I appreciate your concern. I think it’s time we start heading back to Bayer and pick-up Sonia.

Sonia was waiting outside the Bayer plant as Sebastián pulled his car over. Introductions were made and Ian could tell Sebastián and Sonia would become good friends, they immediately started sharing humorous stories in both English and Spanish. Sonia suggested they go to Cerveceria Nacional located in the Palermo barrio. It was a small bar serving food and very inexpensive beer.

They arrived to find a jaunty after-work crowd and were able to find a quiet booth. Ian and Sonia sat on one side and Sebastián on the other. After a few beers, their conversation and jokes became less guarded, they talked to each other as one would with a long-time friend.

When Sebastián excused himself to order another round of beers from the bar, Sonia and Ian became more amatory in their conversation and intimate in their physical contact. As they conversed in more playful topics, each had their hand kneading the other’s leg. They moved closer to each other and on perfect cue came in for a prolonged passionate kiss. This continued until Sebastián returned. After a few more drinks Ian asked Sebastián to drive him home, with Sonia. Sebastián winked in agreement and immediately announced to both of them he had to leave but would drop them off first. Sonia excused herself to make a phone call.

It was around 8 PM when they got to Ian’s apartment. The whole Lu family was still working in their store when Ian, slightly embarrassed, walked by the Lu’s with Sonia.

When they reached the door of Ian’s apartment, he couldn’t find his key. Not wanting to delay things and with a touch of romanticism, he picked up Sonia with both arms like a newly married couple about to cross the threshold, and with precision, kicked the door open, cleanly breaking the lock off while leaving the door unscathed.

He carried Sonia over the threshold and with his other leg kicked the door shut behind them. He carried Sonia over to his bed and dropped her onto the soft bedding that soon would become their stage of passion. Sonia comfortably positioned looked with desire into the eyes of Ian.

Lively sounds of traffic and people talking emitted from Juramento street becoming the background “music” to this moment between Ian and Sonia. Ian slowly unbuttoned his shirt while transfixed on Sonia who was smiling at Ian’s intent to prolong the moment. Both shed their first layer of clothing and Ian slowly entered the bed feeling the skin of his body against hers; the feeling of warmth and smoothness was something uncommon and greatly savored by Ian.

He paid close attention and affection to all of Sonia, from her toes to her ears then settled upon her mouth with a long, deep passionate kiss. Their bodies rhythmically moved in synchronization.

Upon an inconvenient moment, Ian thought of Janet Rodriguez back in Montreal, perhaps with a sense of personal commitment which had not yet been declared. His intimacy with both women was similar but yet felt different. The current being more lustful and the latter more heartfelt.

His focus quickly returned and the sensation experienced by both was intoxicating. The noise from the street provided a barrier of privacy for the sounds and movements of their lovemaking.

Lingering in bed with soft whispers they both realized the magic of this moment in their lives.

It was time to depart and Sonia seemed to have a sense of urgency to leave.

“Sorry to rush Peter, but I didn’t realize how late it was and I have to get home.”

“Not a problem Sonia, let me call Sebastián and see if he is available to give you a ride home.”

“No Peter, I can just take a taxi.”

“I insist Sonia, Sebastián can be here pretty fast and it will save you some money, plus I can see where you live.”

Sonia appeared worried but acquiesced to Ian’s insistence.

Sebastián indeed was prompt and they all left for Sonia’s home in the Villa Urquiza barrio. It was a short drive. Sonia requested they drop her off at the corner of Avalos and Berlin street close to the center of her barrio.

Ian stepped out of the car and opened the back door for Sonia, she shyly got out and Ian could tell she was nervous. He moved towards her for one last kiss goodbye and could tell Sonia was distracted as her eyes were focused on the direction of the village center. She terminated the kiss quickly.

Though Sonia wrestled with some internal issue she still maintained a proper degree of decorum. “Peter, thank you for a wonderful evening.”

“Sonia, I need to get your phone number.”

“Oh, it’s better you call me at work as my family does not speak English and you’ll both be frustrated.”

Ian asked Sebastián if he had a pen and some paper, which he did have in his glove compartment.

“Here Sonia, this is my number, call me, ok?

Sonia displayed a tense smile, quickly took the paper and turned to start her walk home.

“Sonia, where’s your apartment?”

Sonia vaguely pointed to a building a block away as she started her walk. Ian sensed some privacy concern but did not press her on it. Looking back from inside the car Ian noticed Sonia had quickened her pace to a moderate jog as if she was frightened of being late for something.

“Well my friend, how was your time with Miss Sonia?”

“It was great Sebastián, thanks for all the driving. Did you notice Sonia acting a little scared or self-conscious when we dropped her off?”

“Oh, Peter, she is probably just concerned about her neighbors seeing her with two unfamiliar men. We are still a conservative culture in many ways, no?”

There was still time left in the evening for Sebastián to visit with Ian, share a beer and talk about their day.

Unbeknownst to Ian and Sebastián, there were two cars parked on the street completely unrelated to each other and at opposite ends of the block. But each car had the same objective, surveillance of Peter Müller. One of the cars was a Volkswagen Beetle snugly occupied by the large German doorman named Helmut from the Brauhaus BA club. The other car’s occupants were two men in their thirties, who indirectly worked for the Warlock. They both focused their attention on Ian’s second-floor apartment window and could see Ian and Sebastián talking over a couple of beers. Their attention started to drift until they noticed Peter Müller answering his phone.

“Hello, this is Peter.”

“Peter!!! I’m so sorry. I didn’t tell you that I am married!” Sonia was hysterical and sorrowful and seemed in a rush to reveal her transgression. “When you dropped me off near my home my husband was in the plaza and saw us embrace and kiss. He is very jealous and controlling. He is also physically abusive; I am very scared of him. He forced me to provide your name and address, he wants to confront you! Sorry, Peter, I have to get off the phone now as my husband is coming and wants to take me with him to your place.”

What Sonia didn’t tell Ian was her marriage to Mario was miserable. That she invented the story about her husband seeing them from the plaza. She also lied about his physical abuse.

This is what actually happened; Sonia entered her apartment finding Mario waiting for her, he immediately started interrogating her. Mario had a legitimate reason for being suspicious as Sonia had several indiscretions, most of them not detected by Mario. Sonia knew this reaction would happen and desired it as she wanted out of her marriage. However, divorce is illegal in Argentina due to its strong Catholic culture. The best Sonia could hope for would be a separation, which most Argentinean couples did in troubled marriages. She felt this recent indiscretion would be the last straw and Mario would demand a split. In effect, she was using Ian to get out of her marriage. Sonia succumbed to Mario’s demand for the truth and revealed the sordid details.

Mario wanted to confront Ian to indirectly punish Sonia, that her actions had consequences, it was his way of channeling his anger and frustration. It was also his way to save face and dignity as a man in Argentina culture. He wasn’t so angry with Ian because he knew Sonia was mostly to blame. She always seemed to be the initiator of such transgressions.

The men observing from their cars noticed some agitation from the phone call. Thinking something was going to happen they stayed a while longer. Their patience paid-off as an old IKA Torino 380 coupé screeched its brakes down below Ian’s apartment window.

Mario a man in his late twenties, short and slender got out of his car and pulled Sonia out from her passenger side.

Holding Sonia in both arms Mario yelled up to Ian’s window. “Peter Müller! Come outside now! Müller!”

“Peter, I think we should call the police, her husband looks pretty mad, no?  Maybe he has a weapon?”

“No Sebastián, I think I can handle this situation. Let’s go see him. Sebastián, please do me a favor and whatever happens outside please do not get involved.” As they were going down the stairs Ian knew he could easily subdue her husband. Though, as in nature, a wounded animal can be dangerous, Ian would still treat him as a formidable adversary.

Coming out to the street, with the Lu family watching from their store, Mario came quickly towards Ian with the clear intention of a physical assault.

At that moment Ian quickly appreciated the man’s anger relative to revenge.  Ian’s own Catholic guilt permeated his consciousness, even though he was the unknowing participant in this affair. He immediately made the decision not to fight back but just defend himself from any dangerous blows and absorb the man’s anger or really his frustration with his wife.

Mario started throwing punches and kicks towards Ian, some of which he blocked and others he allowed to land on his body. Within a few seconds Ian purposely fell to the pavement and curled his body with his arms covering his head and his knees bent up towards his chest. Mario kicked several more times until his anger was spent. He grabbed Sonia who was hysterical in the background and pushed her into the front passenger seat of the car. He then strode proudly feeling he defended his honor to the driver side, jumped in and sped off.

Sebastián had reluctantly honored Ian’s request not to become involved, which was difficult not to defend his friend from being beaten. He was also bewildered how easily Ian had dispatched three opponents the other night, each more powerful and dangerous than Sonia’s husband, yet he was so completely dominated by Mario.

Sebastián helped Ian to his feet while Mr. and Mrs. Lu came rushing out from the store to see if he was ok.

“Ian! Are you alright?” Then Sebastián couldn’t help himself from asking. “How come you didn’t fight like the other night?”

Ian didn’t respond but slowly rose and walked back with Sebastián and the Lu’s to his apartment building. It had been quite the event on the street as several onlookers lingered to see if anything else would happen. The men doing surveillance were not fond of too much attention and decided it was time to leave, especially if a neighbor might have called the police.  The two cars slowly passed each other on the road while their attention focused on Ian and his supporters going back into their building.

Ian was actually fine except for some bruising to his arms and legs. Back in his apartment he and Sebastián sat at his table and discussed at length what just occurred. Ian explained why he didn’t fight back which Sebastián thought was extremely honorable and made him revere Ian even more.

The next day two separate meetings occurred about Peter Müller, in different sections of Buenos Aires by different interested parties.

In the Parliament office of the Warlock, Juan Carlos, the Warlock’s assistant was meeting with his lower level associate Astor Lopez who had dispatched their two associates for surveillance of Peter Müller. Astor received an update to share with Juan Carlos.

“Juan, our men followed Peter Müller for the last few days. They’ve kept their distance and haven’t yet searched his apartment to see if he has a radio transmitter. Last night they witnessed Müller involved in a domestic dispute. From what they heard, Müller had an affair with a married woman. We think she is from the Bayer plant and her husband was the one confronting Müller. Based on the information from our contact at the queer bar, we were to believe Müller was a very skillful fighter, but the smaller husband easily beat him, so I’m not sure about the credibility of our informant. We feel Müller’s lack of self-defense skills may indicate he’s not a trained field agent. But what we did find alarming was his locally based companion is a man by the name of Sebastian Salazar. He is or was a member of the Peronist Youth Movement. What do you think?”

“Hmmm, interesting Juan. My suspicion of Müller is somewhat reduced. We did make some inquiries about his identity in Montreal and everything seems to check out, though, I can easily imagine some foreign entity who might be supporting him, altering this information. Why don’t you have our men follow him for a few more days? I’ll let you know when we should search his apartment. If he does have some communication equipment and he’s not registered and licensed here, we have the right to confiscate the equipment under our current enforcement guidelines. Also, do a background check on Salazar. We could bring both in for questioning at some point. In the meantime, keep me informed.”

Across town at the Brauhaus BA club, the club’s bodyguard Helmet was meeting with Werner Klingemann.

“Werner, our man Müller has been up to no good. Last night I saw him in a confrontation over what I suspect was an affair he had with another man’s wife or girlfriend. The kid was beaten pretty badly by the man.”

The former Gestapo officer Werner Klingemann laughed. “Helmet, the kids today have no morals. This wouldn’t have happened if Müller was German raised. We did have a chance to verify his background and it all checks out. Thanks for your service on this. Though I do have a feeling we will see more of Herr Müller.”

That Saturday morning Ian checked-in for his weekly update with New York, his shortwave signal was strong. After providing his Call sign, he immediately received a message his background had been checked by two separate parties. This confused Ian; the German club members might be one of the interested parties, but he couldn’t figure out the other. Possibly, it could be one of the companies he had visited taking a deeper interest in him.

He transmitted his recent experiences, even his indiscretion with Sonia, thinking the Mossad might be able to have better optics in understanding all the relationships from their distance.

Word got back to Mossad Headquarters in Tel Aviv, about the multiple inquiries into Ian’s background. Damien took the dispatch and went to Director’s Hofi’s office. “Yitzhak, it looks like Ian has been getting a lot of attention, there are now two groups interested in finding out more about our boy. He hasn’t mentioned anything we could interpret as evidence of imminent danger, but as we know, it often comes without warning.”

“This tells me, Damien, Ian is delving into the right places. Let’s keep calm about this. These initial background checks might just be the normal protocols in place for these groups he is in contact with, hopefully, their inquisitiveness has been satisfied. We’ll just have to be patient.”

Meanwhile back in Buenos Aires, Ian refocused on his search for Gertrude Sommer and continued his factory visits and explored more of the clubs on his list.

The month of January was coming to an end and Ian was anxiously awaiting the big Embassy event the coming weekend.

Chapter 20

Ian finally opened the letter which had been left under his door several days ago. He knew it was the invitation to the German Embassy’s summer party which was taking place later in the day. It was Saturday, January 31st. The temperature was close to twenty-six Celsius and it was another beautiful long day of sunlight, setting close to 8 PM.

The invitation suggested a semi-formal event to be held at the residence of the Embassy’s Commerce Officer Horst Fisher from 4 PM to midnight. The home was located at 1661 Alvear Avenue in the Recoleta barrio, which was a short drive from Ian’s apartment, but a World away in status and wealth.  Ian considered this a good opportunity for expanding his relationships. He decided he would dress well for the event, hoping to come across as their equal. He only brought one set of formal attire and it was a nice Brooks Brother’s navy pin-striped suit, along with a pair of English made Tricker’s brogue shoes his father bought him as a going away present. Ian looked sartorially sharp and more mature and established than that of a twenty-year-old.

Sebastián came by and picked Ian up at 3:45 PM, dropping him off at the Embassy party at 4:15 PM. Ian instructed Sebastián he would take a taxi home at the end of the night but would call him at his residence should anything more involved arise.

The residence was in a large white colored apartment complex built in the French Neoclassical style during the late 1800’s. Though a dwelling to many well-off “Buenos Arians”, Horst Fisher “took command” of the building by having two embassy security officers greeting guests at the front door and asking for their invitations. The men were imposing in size and demeanor but their formal attire gave them a sense of civility.

Ian greeted the men, handed over his invitation card and was directed to the internal courtyard of the building. It was an oasis designed for the residents as a tranquil getaway from the urban chaos of their day but was also available to the residents to host events. Ian was amazed to find a small park, with trees, flower gardens, walkways and beautiful landscaping. Hovering around its perimeter were Chinese lanterns connected from tree to tree. It was all festively decorated.

Waiting staff dressed in formal serving attire were walking about holding silver trays of hors-d’oeuvres and glasses of champagne. A well-dressed crowd started settling in, and several group conversations began.

Ian, immediately heard Tango music playing. It was an ensemble also known as an Orquesta Tipica which included two violins, flute, piano, bass and two bandoneóns. Then a beautiful voice started to sing. He looked to find a woman in her early sixties singing with beauty, style, and emotion. She was an attractive woman, wearing a maroon colored dress and a very stylish black Argentinian boina (beret) with a red fabric rose attached to its side.

Transfixed on the singer there was a tap on Ian’s shoulder. It was Horst Fisher.

“Welcome, Herr Müller! So, happy to see you here. Do you like the singer?”

“Hello Herr Fisher, yes, she is amazing”.

“Ah, she is the famous Tango singer and actress Nelly Omar. She was very famous during the 1930’s through the forties and is now trying to make a comeback. She will perform at functions like ours but she is not cheap, but well worth it, don’t you think so Herr Müller?”

“Oh, yes, she is. I’m not familiar with this style of music, but I am starting to really like it.”

“Now Müller, let me introduce you to my two sons’.” Two tall young blond haired men appeared from behind their father. “This is my oldest son Christian and his younger brother Karl. Men, this is Peter Müller from Montreal, he has a German father, just like you. Peter, their English is quite good, I’m sure you will enjoy talking about your lives.”

Horst Fisher left the group to engage some other guests.

The two brothers had many questions for Ian, which made him recall his well-rehearsed cover story by rote. The brothers were students at the University of Buenos Aires, both engaged in the Faculty of Economics, following their father’s footsteps. Ian got along well with the brothers as they shared a few drinks together and the brothers made some introductions for Ian. One of which was their family friend Mauro Diaz. Mauro came with a very outgoing and entertaining personality and immediately started winning the attention of the three young men. Mauro was also a student at the University of Buenos Aires studying pre-law.

The interesting thing about Mauro Diaz was his father, Colonel José Diaz, who held a top government internal security post. One of his duties included the supervision of the Navy Mechanic School Prison. He was also a close associate with José Rega, The Warlock.

The group continued their drinking amongst some lively conversation. Mauro summoned over a very pretty young woman to introduce to Ian. “Peter, this is our friend Christina Alvarez.”  Christina was also a university student and extremely attractive, with long amber colored hair, and eyes possessing a translucent blue color. She was a mix of Spanish and German heritage and grew up in the same barrio as Mauro.

Christina, discovering Ian was from North America immediately, though perhaps a bit playfully, started to criticize the United States for all its meddling in the politics of other nations. Ian wasn’t so much bothered by her political views but by her coalescing Canada with the United States. A sore spot for many Canadians abroad. Just before Ian could politely respond, an attractive woman in her forties approached Ian to dance with her. She wanted to teach him some Tango. Ian was startled by this unprovoked advance, but also found it a compliment to his ego. His new friends found it amusing and watched as Ian stumbled through the maneuvers of the Tango. Seeing such a woman approach Ian for a dance increased his status with Christina. At the conclusion of the dance, Ian returned to his group and was teased for several minutes. Christina changed her approach and started to flirt more obviously with Ian. It started to become apparent that Christina was actually attracted to him, and he was to her.

Christina engaged in more conversation. “Peter, tell us more about your life at home in Montreal and your plans for the future.”

After a few more drinks and several more songs by Nelly Omar, Mauro Diaz suggested a “field trip” for the group.

“Guys, it’s 10 pm, I want to take Peter for a tour of one of my Dad’s facilities, he needs to see the good work we are doing. Christina, I apologize but I don’t believe you will be allowed to accompany us on this trip.”

Ian and Christina exchanged phone numbers and the four young men left, squeezing into Mauro’s Fiat 124 for their mystery trip.

Their ride was only about fifteen minutes and they parked in front of a large building, also in the Neoclassical French architecture, it had a design reminiscent of the US White House notably due to the four large pillars at its entrance. But it was similar only in resemblance and not in its virtue.

“Peter, this is the Navy Mechanics School. My dad has commandeered this facility as a detention center for Left-Wing activists, anarchists, and communists. All the dangerous ‘ists’!”  Mauro laughed.  “Peter, I have taken Christian and Karl here before. What do you guys think of the place?”

Christian and Karl gave rather ingratiating comments, suggesting Mauro’s father is a righteous commander battling those elements of the society bent on its destruction. Though Ian detected an undertone of disapproval in their praise.

The official name of the facility was Escuela Superior de Mecánica de la Armada, translated meaning, Higher School of Mechanics of the Navy. Locals referred to it by its acronym, ESMA. The locals were unaware at this time the school was being used as a torture center.

“Peter, come with me and I will give you guys a tour of the facility.  I often come here to work for my Dad, it’s a high-paying part-time job and I now know the officers here really well. There’s no problem showing you around.”

They walked up the front steps and a plainclothes security officer at the entrance warmly greeted Mauro. Inside the main entrance, Mauro was then received by two men sitting at the front desk. They were older men, with grizzled and hardened facial features and serious dispositions, but then they starting joking with Mauro, and their appearance became that of endearing pensioners.

Mauro enjoyed the attention he was given by the staff; it gave him a sense of status and importance in front of his friends. Ian noticed this boost in his ego. Ian also considered this a valuable relationship and instinctively started to cultivate a deeper rapport with Mauro and the staff. After Mauro introduced the older men to his friends, Ian started engaging them in both Spanish and English and tried to establish a friendly and casual bond with the men, as evidenced by their responses, Ian felt successful, but also cautious, as such men were quite dangerous and could easily turn on a person.

“Ok guys, let me show you around. This floor and the next are for the administrative offices and resting quarters for the security staff.

As the group ascended the floors Ian noticed there was a hierarchy of pain, on the third-floor personnel could be heard yelling in their interrogation rooms. Mauro asked them to follow him down the third-floor hallway. He stopped at one door where the yelling was emanating from and slid open a small window about seven by fifteen centimeters. He encouraged each one to take a look. Inside two men were questioning a young man who was seated at a table while they hovered above yelling incriminating accusations. Mauro closed the window and laughed. “They will have this traitor confessing before midnight.”

Onto the fourth floor, the yelling was now coming from the detainees. Ian could hear both men and women voices either pleading to stop or screaming in pain. Mauro lead them to the door where a woman’s voice could be heard trying to make a deal with her interrogators. Mauro slid opened the window, Ian took his glance and saw a man and a woman administering an electric shock to a young woman. Ian noticed the man was fairly young compared to the ones he met at the front desk. The woman had her back toward him, but had fairly short dark hair, just before Mauro closed the window, the woman made a quarter turn towards the door, Ian noticed her face. It was not ethnic Spanish looking, but more European and appeared to be a woman in her late forties or early fifties.

Mauro shut the door and abruptly announced to his friends that the best part of the tour was about to come. “Guys, now we go to the basement for the finale of the tour. Tipping at the end is suggested.” Mauro laughed and the others laughed politely.

But Ian, could not get the image of that woman out of his mind. Could it have been Gertrude Sommer?  Even though the pattern of her face had been imprinted in his mind from the various photos Damien had shown him, the context of the setting could not be resolved; how and why would Gertrude Sommer be working for this government and working in such a harsh environment late in the evening?

As the group descended the stairs it occurred to Ian this would actually be a very logical place for her to work. She was experienced in the craft of human suffering and could impress her Fascist colleagues with all the various techniques she had acquired while working at numerous concentration camps during WWII.

Ian’s thought process was interrupted when Mauro opened a door to a large room in the basement. There were about six to eight people lying on the floor with their heads covered with burlap sacks and their hands tied behind their backs. They were barely conscious and were trying to communicate their fears through their head coverings. But their voices emitted only mumbles and incoherent sentences.

“These are the really bad criminals of Argentina. Every Monday and Thursday night at 11 PM we transport these people to another facility for more intensive interrogation. The people of Argentina can rest assure my Father and his security colleagues are doing their best to keep this country safe.”  Horst Fisher’s sons politely and perhaps out of fear vocalized support for Mauro’s declaration, while Ian’s mind was still struggling with the possibility he just saw Gertrude Sommer.

What Mauro did not tell his friends, or perhaps it might be because he didn’t know himself, was these late night transports were actually sending prisoners to their deaths. Once the security forces verified a detainee was a threat, they brought them to the basement, drugged them, and then they were taken away and placed in a Douglas DC-3 plane, flown late at night over the River Plate and thrown out of the plane to their deaths.

Ian realized the importance of his relationship with Mauro.  He would be the key to getting back into the prison as Ian needed documented proof Gertrude Sommer was alive and well and in this case, still committing crimes against humanity.  He wanted to try and capture this mystery woman on film. He also considered just asking Mauro about the women he saw but such a question could raise suspicion. He needed to be indirect as instructed by his Mossad handler Damien.

“Mauro, your Father has done an excellent job in rounding up and questioning these communists. You must be proud of him.”

“Yes Peter, my Father is leading the way for a safer and more democratic Argentina.”

“Mauro, I noticed on the fourth floor your Father has employed an older woman who was doing an interrogation. Is it typical for women to be working here?”

“Yes Peter, we try to have women as the primary interrogators of women prisoners.”

Ian was hoping Mauro might elaborate on this particular woman but he stopped short of offering any particulars about her and Ian didn’t want to jeopardize his early relationship with Mauro by having him feel he was being too inquisitive. Ian decided to behave indifferently about the prison and to play into Mauro’s Achilles heel, his ego.

Over the course of the next two months, Ian forced a deeper friendship between himself and Mauro. They met for dinners, sporting events, concerts and nights out carousing. Damien saw this ability within Ian to manipulate people, should he want or need to invoke this skill. In this case, he needed to, as he really detested Mauro’s character. Ian’s flattery worked well in gaining Mauro’s trust.

Ian requested several return visits to ESMA, which Mauro obliged. Because of his frequency of appearances, he started developing friendly relationships with the security personnel. His unique presence was welcomed by the staff as it was a distraction from their mundane duties of waiting around on guard detail and even from their ‘activities’ with the prisoners. The ESMA personnel eventually were on a first name basis with ‘Peter’.

During his subsequent visits, he brought his small Minox BL camera but was never able to see the woman again. However, he felt it important to document the crimes taking place in ESMA. He took photos through the sliding windows of the interrogation rooms on the third floor, the torture rooms on the fourth floor and of the drugged prisoners in the basement.

He sensed the fear of the prisoners and wanted to free them all, but knew this was not possible and refocused his thoughts on his mission. The experience at ESMA gave Ian a slight understanding of what it might have been like in a concentration camp in WWII. This was another reason why he wanted to document these crimes, when trials would be held in the future, like Nuremberg, he would at least have evidence to provide the prosecution.

Over the month of February and into March Ian developed a relationship with Christina. As she was a family friend of Mauro, she often accompanied the two men in their social activities. Ian did set time aside just for themselves, whether it was a dinner in a cozy barrio or going to the waterfront, it was usually a romantic moment together. There was not much of an ulterior motive spending time with Cristina, though it did expand his connections, he just enjoyed being with her. She was attractive, funny and seemed to have a concern about what was happening in her country.

Christina told Ian about her family situation. That they were once a happy family which had disintegrated a couple of years ago over an affair, and that life had been difficult for her and her mother, but through the support of relatives and friends they were doing fine now and she would love to have him meet her mother one day soon.

Chapter 21

It was the first weekend of March when Christina with short notice called Ian and invited him to her home in the Nunez barrio for a Saturday afternoon gathering. Her mother was hosting the event. Her parents had separated a couple of years earlier because of one too many indiscretions by her father. Christina also mentioned to Ian that Mauro and his parents would be attending along with many neighborhood friends and work colleagues of her mother.

Later that Saturday morning, Ian went shopping for something to bring to the party. He decided on the liquor Fernet which is a Bitter from Italy with a herbal flavor and notes of licorice. He also bought some Coca-Cola which when mixed with Fernet is one of the favorite drinks in Argentina.

Sebastián, as usual, drove Ian to the event. Christina’s home, located at 4718 Cuba Street was located in a nice middle-class neighborhood. Her house was of a modern design, with red brick, wood trim, and a balcony, accented by a Spanish tile roof. It was the nicest house on the block, primarily due to her father’s position at the Ministry of Housing and Urban Development. It was a lucrative job, not so much in its compensation but in its opportunity for taking bribes.

Ian noticed many cars parked close to the house and heard some lively singing and music emanating from the party inside.

He knocked on the front door and was greeted by Christina, who gave him a warm embrace and immediately started to introduce him to a large group of people mingling in the foyer of the house. Ian was surprised so many people could fit into, from what appeared on the street, a small-sized residence. Friends and colleagues continued streaming through the front door. There were people singing and playing guitar in the kitchen, while others more formerly dressed were having polite conversations in the living room.

Mauro and his parents finally arrived; his father Colonel José Dias dressed in his military uniform while his mother wore a green colored pant-suit. Their son directed them towards Ian and Christina. Ian was introduced but their conversation was minimal due to a lack of common interests and the competition of greeting their other friends.

Ian turned his attention back to Christina and they continued their conversation about the people in attendance and all their salacious secrets.

Suddenly Colonel Dias raised his voice greeting a new guest entering the house. “Mi querido Sylvia! Es genial verte de nuevo!”

Ian’s back was towards the entrance but Christina was facing it and became excited. “Ian, my God Mother Sylvia is here! I have to introduce you to her after Mauro’s father is finished greeting her.”

Ian turned slowly and looked for a few seconds before he was paralyzed by the view of Christina’s God Mother. It was the same woman with the short black hair from the prison. Ian’s mind expeditiously patterned matched the face, it was the Blond Angel of Death.

Christina grabbed Ian’s arm to drag him over to meet her God Mother.

“Auntie Sylvia, I’m so glad you could make it. This is my friend Peter Müller from Montreal. Peter, this is my Auntie Sylvia Rivera.”  She has taken great care of my mother and me especially after my parent’s separation.”

Before words could be exchanged, Christina’s mother came over to embrace her good friend and exchanged some words, which was timely for Ian, as it gave him a chance to compose himself and to think what he had to do next.  What could he do to establish a close relationship with Gertrude Sommer?  He quickly thought about some of the techniques taught to him by Damien and did a quick review of her personality traits which were provided in her dossier. He knew she was very flirtatious and vulnerable to males of interest. Ian decided his best course of action would be to flirt with her at the appropriate moments.

When Christina’s mother was called away to greet another guest, Ian was reintroduced. “It is very nice to meet you, Mrs. Rivera, Christina told me some very nice things about you.”

Gertrude Sommer’s English was quite good. “Well young man, I see my niece has done well. You don’t sound like you are from here.”

“No Auntie, as I said, Peter is from Montreal. But his father is from Germany!”

“Ah, he is half a good person,” Sommer said jokingly.

“Yes, that’s true Mrs. Rivera, my roots are German.” Ian briefly talked about his cover story father and the circumstances that took him to Canada, which made quite the impression on Sommer.

“That’s a fascinating story Peter, and by the way, please call me Sylvia. Tell me more about why you’re here?”

The presence of Gertrude Sommer had now validated the intelligence reports the Blond Angel of Death is alive and residing in Argentina.

Her journey to Argentina went the typical route of many Nazi’s. Soon after she evacuated from Bergen-Belsen she escaped to Italy. She made contact with the ODESSA organization which provided her a safe house and false Italian documents. She stayed in northern Italy for a few years and when the post-war disruption settled down she made a run for it with several other Nazi’s which included the former Gestapo officer Werner Klingemann. They boarded the SS Giovanni C which left Genoa to Buenos Aires, Argentina on March 14th, 1950.

When she arrived in Buenos Aires, she worked a variety of jobs within several German-owned companies. She stayed close to Werner Klingemann, whom she also had an affair, and he connected her to other opportunities which made use of her skills; primarily the ones associated with human suffering. She worked for various Fascist related political parties during a period of time experiencing many coups d’états. Eventually, she became close to Colonel José Dias whom he employed to manage many of his security endeavors. She was, in fact, working at the ESMA prison the night Ian saw her.

Gertrude became friends with Christina’s family as she was their neighbor for many years. Though loved by Christina and her mother, neither knew the real background of Sylvia Rivera, and neither knew she had an affair with Christina’s father, which ended the marriage, though the identity of the mistress was never revealed.

Sommer never married, yet at fifty-three years of age she maintained her attractiveness and continued her promiscuous nature.

Ian needed to win over Sommer’s interest but had to do it subtly, he would make himself the shiny lure tempting her sexual proclivity. He needed to make his conversation non-threatening; no questions about her past or her current work. He needed to make their interaction fun and alluring.

“Oh yes, I’d like to tell you about my research project, but first, may I get you a drink? I brought Fernet and Coca-Cola, I can mix you that drink which seems very popular here in Argentina?”

Sommer laughed. “You have done your homework Peter, that actually happens to be my favorite drink. Please mix me a tall one.”

Ian had to be cognizant of his relationship with Christina; bad manners or even worse, the appearance of hitting on her Auntie could jeopardize getting closer to his target.

“Christina, would you like to have one as well?”

“No Peter, I have to mingle with the guests, please keep my Auntie company.”

Ian made his way through the crowd to the Wet Bar and made an extra strong drink for Sommer, while he made himself one with a small amount of Fernet. No time was wasted in thinking through his impending conversation and some possible plans going forward. He needed more information and some photographic evidence. And as requested by the Mossad, he needed to do surveillance on Sommer over the course of a two-week period. First things first, he needed just to establish a rapport and not come on too strong, again, he needed to be the shiny lure.

“Here you go Sylvia, let’s make a toast to the great life you folks have here in Buenos Aires!”

“A very nice toast Peter, I’ll drink to that. So, Peter, you told me all about your father and mother now tell me about this research project of yours.”

Ian completed his cover story and again emphasized his German lineage and more detail about his “father’s” experiences in World War II. He wanted to make a connection but was careful not to ask Sommer questions about her past. Though he was sure she would have her own cover story, he wanted to avoid making her uncomfortable and do everything he could to encourage an amicable atmosphere. But he did hope she would be comfortable enough to share something from her past, even if it was made up.

“Oh Peter, your father really is a wartime hero. Field Marshall Rommel was a great man; your father must have been very brave. It’s funny where we all end up, in your father’s case, Canada and in mine here in Argentina.  During the war, I worked as a secretary at the Laco Watchmaking company in Pforzheim, Germany. We made those great Pilot watches for the German military. Most of my family were killed during the war and I had a chance to immigrate here in 1950. After several jobs within various German manufacturing companies, I was able to get a great job in the Ministry of Social Welfare. It’s been great experience helping the local people. My way of giving back.”

Ian internally cringed at her twisted remarks and realized Gertrude Sommer was not a product of the War but the War had satisfied a deep sadism which resided within her; Argentina was able to continue to feed her desires.

Sommer was engaging and flirtatious with Ian and he knew she had already developed an interest in him, which made him shudder to think she had no parental care or loyalty to her “God Daughter” but only desired self-gratification for herself.

Ian could tell Sommer started plotting a chance for them to get together when she asked if he could be available sometime during the week to help her move an air conditioning unit from the basement to her second-floor bedroom. She complained how hot it was this summer in Buenos Aires making it hard for her to sleep.

Ian wasn’t expecting such a request from Sommer so soon, which temporarily put him at a loss for words. He was still weighing in his mind just doing the minimal requirement; surveillance from a distance versus being intimately involved with his target, which repulsed him. But then his objective outweighed his concerns and he re-considered this as a great opportunity to get more information from her, perhaps even on other Nazi war criminals hiding in Buenos Aires.

“Sylvia, I would be most happy to help you with anything.” Ian responded in a way which communicated mutual interest in ‘being together’.

They exchanged phone numbers and each one mingled their way in different directions. Ian finally reconnected with Christina.

“How do you like my God Mother? Isn’t she great?”

“Yes, she’s very nice and has such an interesting past.”  Ian was being facetious with himself. He decided not to bring up the moving request by her God Mother, as he felt she would also not disclose it to Christina. It might raise concerns if revealed so soon after meeting each other, but if uncovered later, there was a better chance it could be interpreted as an innocent arrangement due to a growing friendship.

As usual, Sebastián came by towards the end of the party to give Ian a ride home. He tried not to show his excitement in finding Gertrude Sommer in Sebastián’s presence, but just mentioned it was a fun party and listened to Sebastián’s complaints about the local traffic. The moment he was dropped off at home, Ian immediately when to his shortwave set to transmit his discovery.  Both Adam Samuels and Daniel Hoffman were working their usual late night shift in New York City when the call came in.

“Adam!  It’s VE2RAQ calling. That’s Ragual! After a series of Dahs & Dits, with Daniel transcribing, they came up with the following message. “Had a good game of Chess today, captured the Black Queen. Will play this game for another couple of weeks.”

New York immediately transmitted a coded message to Mossad Headquarters in Tel Aviv. Damien was awakened by an early morning phone call with instructions to come to HQ as quickly as possible for a meeting with Director Hofi.

“Good morning Damien, well, I have some exceptional news for you. Our boy Ian has located Gertrude Sommer.”

“That’s fantastic Yitzhak, I don’t know how the kid did it, but I’m totally impressed no matter how it happened.”

“Yes, yes, Damien, it is very good news, and I know it’s very personal to you, but as I said before, having found her what do we do now? It will be extremely difficult and dangerous to pull off an Eichmann like operation today. Why don’t you set up an Operations Meeting with the Staff and we can go through all the possible scenarios?”

“Yes Yitzhak, I’ll set up that meeting and just to remind you, we have instructed Ian to do surveillance on Sommer for a two-week period, so let’s wait for this intel before we execute any plan.”

“I agree Damien, our ‘Angel of Justice’ has come through for us. Let’s wait the two weeks for the details. I also understand the government is on the cusp of an overthrow, which could make things very difficult for us in our future plans, please keep aware of the situation there and think about adding this concern to our Operations Meeting.”

Ian saw Christina the next day and was able to get Sommer’s home location indirectly. He asked how her God Mother was and if she is ok living alone, perhaps in a bad side of town, to which Christina explained she was well off and lived just down the street from her residence at 1815 Pico street. “She has a very nice two-floor white stucco house, with a cute little garden in the front. This is a safe neighborhood, Peter.”

During the evening, back at his apartment he started to make a surveillance plan and would need Sebastián to help with its execution.

Over the next couple of days, Ian wrestled with the age-old ‘dating’ problem, who should make the first call? Sommer’s phone number was on the dining room table and Ian couldn’t help but stare at it for long periods of time. But he felt it best he didn’t initiate contact because he didn’t want Sommer to perceive any sign of a threat to her safety by being overzealous in wanting to meet her.  He eased his anxiousness over the matter by accepting the fact he could still fulfill his mission without close contact so he wasn’t too worried if their meeting didn’t happen. But getting close to her was very tempting as he might be able to uncover incriminating evidence at her residence about her current activities. After considering all options Ian felt confident, if he did his “luring” well, she would initiate the first contact due to her insatiable promiscuousness and desire for control.

Monday morning found Ian in his apartment having breakfast and reading the Buenos Aires Herald. He saw more strife reported between the government and the military, more people being arrested and thought about what Sebastián said; “it’s becoming a very unsafe time in Argentina”. As the government changes, to the worse, it will inevitably go into a shut-down State, which would make it extremely hard to extract Gertrude Sommer, especially considering her government connections, ones of the cruelest kind. He didn’t know what to do with this thought except to report his concerns later to the Mossad support center in New York.

He called Sebastián to come over to talk about something important. Sebastián arrived promptly and both sat down at the table. Ian provided some Earl Grey tea as he began his conversation.

“Sebastián, we have been through a lot together over the last couple of months, and I trust you to request your help. It’s something I don’t believe will expose you to any risk, but it’s also something you don’t have to do, just be honest on how you feel and tell me if you can or cannot do it.”

“Sure Peter, you can trust me, tell me what it is.”

“Ok, I can tell you what the activity is, but I can’t tell you why it’s being done. I need to do surveillance on a person over the next couple of weeks. I actually know the person, so obviously, I don’t think it would be good for me doing the surveillance. It’s a woman in her early fifties who lives near the party I went to on Saturday. Would you be open to doing this work versus just driving me around everywhere?”

“Peter, I can do this, I won’t ask any questions, but I think you are working for a government agency no?  Anyway, I can do this for you. I also trust you.”

“Thank you Sebastián, all I can say is you are helping with a very good cause and you will be on the side of right and justice. I hope this might make you feel better about the work.”

Ian, then recalled what Damien told him about how to properly do surveillance.

“I need to tell you a few things about surveillance, so you will be successful. One thing is documentation. You need to write down the times and places this woman goes. We need to know her behavior patterns.  If she meets with people, write down their descriptions and the mood of their conversation. Was she laughing, tense, upset?

This type of surveillance is ‘Tailing’ and not a ‘Stakeout’. You’ll be following the subject by car, public transportation or on foot. You should spend time in the subject’s neighborhood, drive around all the streets and learn all the ways of getting around her area. This might be useful in case you need to make alterations in your tailing.

Being a male is a bit more difficult in tailing. A female waiting around is, of course, waiting for her husband or girlfriend; a male waiting around is more suspicious. You should wear a hat and have various props at your disposal, like a newspaper, or shopping bags, which will make you appear more part of the setting.

If you pull over in your car waiting on the subject, slide over to the passenger side of the car or get into the backseat as if you are waiting for someone, and then lift up your newspaper, which will help conceal your face.

If you are tailing on foot, stay at least fifty meters behind the subject, but you can vary this distance based on crowd size.  When trailing behind the subject always stay on the same side of the street. If she speeds up, resist the urge to do the same.

I would recommend staying in your car even if she is on foot as it provides you some flexibility in your location relative to the subject’s location. You can go ahead of the subject and wait for her to catch up. You can also drive around a block to conceal yourself for a while.

Should you get identified or even confronted by the subject have a prepared cover story ready; for example, ‘my dog ran away and I’m looking for her’, so have a dog leash with you as a prop. Always have a plausible story available relative to your location and circumstances.”

Ian gave Sebastián the particulars on ‘Sylvia Rivera’, her home address and a detailed description of what she looks like, he avoided her real name or any reference to her past and even current work.

“Sebastián, I’m sorry I can’t provide you with more details. I believe she works, possibly in the evenings. This may sound strange, but there is a chance you might see me with her, should this happen just stay with the subject, even after I leave. I think after a couple of days doing the surveillance you’ll get a sense of her daily patterns, which can help you set your schedule. Again, we’ll just do this for the next two weeks.”

Ian sensed a certain level of enthusiasm from Sebastián, perhaps excited to be a part of something righteous again. But Sebastián still wanted to warn Ian about the current political environment.

“Ok Peter, I’ll start the work this afternoon and go get familiar with her neighborhood, then wait somewhere down the street until I see her come or go. You must know Peter, I was reading the morning Herald and they anticipate a change in the government soon, which might bring chaos and make things difficult for us.”

A few hours after Sebastián departed the phone rang.

“Hello, Ian?  This is Sylvia. How are you?” She said in a playful and friendly way.

Ian suddenly felt a mixture of anxiety and excitement but managed a veil of composure.

“Oh hello Sylvia, so nice to hear from you. How are you?”

“Very good Ian, do you remember me asking if you could help move that air conditioner?”

“Oh yes, do you want me to come by today?”

“That would be great Peter, I would greatly appreciate it. Do you think you could come by this afternoon? It seems to be getting hotter today.” She said with a slight alluring tone.

“Is two o’clock good for you?

“Yes Peter, I look forward to your arrival. My address is 1815 Pico street just down the street from Christina’s place.”

“Ok Sylvia, see you soon.”

During the next hour, Ian arranged for a taxi to take him to Sommers home, he tried to prepare mentally for all scenarios and played each one out through his mind. The one which elicited the most concern and was most obviously going to happen was what to do if Sommer tried to become intimate?

The taxi arrived and Ian was on his way to meet “The Blond Angel of Death”.

Chapter 22

When Ian’s taxi drove down Pico street he noticed Sebastián was already parked about 100 meters from Sommer’s house. Sebastián was a good listener as he was “reading” his newspaper on the passenger side of his car.

Ian reflected on how all the possible scenarios might play out and considered the consequences of each. He made sure he had his most essential piece of equipment, the Minox BL camera which was concealed in his baggy cargo pants. No matter which scenario, he needed photographic evidence.

Ian was right on time and Sommer came out of her house to greet him with a hug and a kiss on both cheeks. She was dressed in clothes more typically worn by younger women; short cut-off jeans and a tight-fitting t-shirt of the Argentine National football club. She was still quite youthful looking revealing a well-proportioned body and tanned skin. Her attractiveness would catch the attention of any man.

She put her arm around his shoulder and walked him into the house. This was the spider welcoming prey into its web.

The house from the outside was just as described by Christina. The inside was neat and clean and tastefully appointed. The only sign of her German roots were several paintings of European landscapes on the walls.

Sommer welcomed Ian into her home and directed him into her kitchen. She brought out two cold bottles of Quilmes beer from the refrigerator, poured them into tall glasses and offered a brindas (toast). “Peter there are a lot of superstitions attached to the brindas. You have to hold the glass in your left hand, the hand closest to your heart and you have to stare the other person in the eyes while saying the brindas or it is seven years’ bad sex!” She said with a prankish smile. “Ok? So, here’s to a successful and happy future for both of us, Chin, Chin!”

They both drank up and being tired on a hot day both immediately experienced the effects of the alcohol. Their conversation became more open and uninhibited with sexual innuendo and risqué topics. Ian knew how this afternoon would end up and considered his alternatives, he decided there would be more to gain if he played it through to its inevitable climax.

Finally, the task at hand was brought up which offered some legitimacy to their rendezvous. “Thank you again, Peter, for coming, the air conditioner is in the basement, let me show you where it is; I hope it’s not too heavy for you.”

They descended the stairs into a dark and shadowy cellar. Sommer pointed out the large air conditioner which from the looks of it had not really been used in a few years. Ian wrestled with the unit, though heavy and awkward to carry he exerted himself enough to successfully ascend the two flights. The strain was easily seen through his body as his shoulder and arm muscles flexed and his veins protruded highlighting his excellent physical condition which was fully noticed by Sommer.

She directed him to her bedroom and opened her window for the unit to be placed. Successfully locking the air conditioner in place Ian stood still in repose to catch his breath, his body was slightly perspiring.

Sommer slowly came up behind Ian and placed her hand on his shoulder and started to massage the muscle. “Peter, I hope you didn’t overstrain yourself.”  Ian didn’t reply as he knew Sommer’s ultimate intention which put him into a state of paralysis. She placed her free hand on his other shoulder and started to work his upper back more forcefully, then there was a pause, and with her hands, she rotated Ian around to face her, and without any more words drew Ian in for a long kiss.

Sommer took control and guided Ian onto her bed. She assumed a position on top of Ian and started to undo his belt. But Ian was still troubled by the thought of engaging in something very intimate with a war criminal, a person who killed people in cold blood, a person with sadistic tendencies. He again considered his objective and for the good of his mission he blocked out those thoughts and exchanged them with more carnal ones.

Though Ian was not so experienced, he could feel Sommer was solely concerned with her own pleasure and acted out on her predatory instincts. She man-handled Ian, becoming more physically demanding and even physically abusive by slapping him and scratching his body. Ian maintained his mindset and was able to “complete”, as determined by Sommer, the job at hand. It was a very troubling moment for Ian, but a successful one as Sommer rolled on her back and took out a cigarette. Few words were exchanged but Ian felt he now had established a relationship which would benefit his whole operation.

Lying in bed Ian started to think how to leverage the situation. Suddenly Sommer went off to take a shower. This gave Ian an idea; he put on his pants and quickly took out his Minox BL camera and started photographing everything in Sommer’s house, all the rooms, and personal items. He quietly went downstairs to Sommer’s study. There was a desk with drawers which Ian considered a prime area to investigate. Listening closely, he could still hear the shower running and Sommer singing some old German song.

Ian carefully looked through each draw. There were many papers, mostly written in Spanish which didn’t make much sense to Ian, however, he still photographed as many of the interesting artifacts as he could. When he reached the lowest drawer, there was a small satchel containing some documents. He pulled them out and there was a page with a long list of names on it, each had a check-mark next to the name and in the far-right column of the page most had a red ‘x’ mark. Ian could hear the shower turning off, he quickly photographed the documents and then started to place them neatly away when he noticed the name Bruno Rodriguez near the top of her list. Ian immediately thought of Janet Rodriguez back in Montreal. Her father was a journalist who ‘disappeared’, which made Ian realize this was a ‘hit’ list and Sommer was intimately involved. This confirmed his suspicion that the woman at the prison was indeed Gertrude Sommer.

The thought that a person who committed war crimes in their youth could still be doing the same kind of evil work in their later adult years was disturbing. It was now evident in Ian’s mind that Gertrude Sommer was a sadistic-psychopath and such evil had to be stopped.

Ian could hear Sommer’s footsteps walking around her room and he quickly considered an explanation for his presence downstairs. He ran quietly to the refrigerator for two more bottles of Quilmes beer and made his way to the stairs, looking up he saw Sommer standing there in a bathrobe peering down upon him, but her expression did not reveal suspicion but more elation. “Oh, that’s where you have been Herr Peter, I like your thinking. Time for another beer. Yes?”

Ian put on a playful look. “I thought it might be nice to celebrate our time together.”

“Ok Peter, but I can’t have any more after this one as I have to go to work in a couple of hours.”

Ian was reluctant to ask her what she did for work but struggled with the idea that if he didn’t ask she might be wondering why not, as asking might just be considered normal curiosity and would show an interest in her.

“Oh, you have the third shift. Are you working at a manufacturing company?”

“No Peter, as I told you at the party, I have a job with the Social Welfare department and there’s much processing needing to be done, so they have allowed us to work various shifts. This late night one pays better.” She also had a well-rehearsed cover story.

Ian also took a shower and got dressed to leave. At the front door, Sommer placed her hand on Ian’s shoulder. “Thank you, Peter, for helping me move my air conditioner.” She said with a coy smile.  There was no parting kiss as their moment together was void of any true meaning and more an arrangement of self-interest.

Ian waved goodbye from the front walkway and started walking down Pico street. He came upon Sebastián who was still in the same place and gave him a subtle wink as he passed. Rather than find a taxi, Ian decided to walk the rest of the way home so he could process what just happened and how to take advantage of this relationship. He now had actual proof of her existence and even possible incriminating evidence of her participation in Right-Wing military crimes presently occurring in Argentina.

Ian was starting to build up a lot of photographic evidence; crimes being committed at the Naval Mechanics prison and Sommer’s home which included, what he assumed was a “hit” list, now possibly a list of missing persons. But he still needed photos of Sommer herself. When he arrived back at his apartment he called Sebastián’s home and left him a message for a 10 AM meeting. Sebastián would be tasked to get photos of Sommer while tailing her.

In the meantime, a government car occupied by two men came to pick up Gertrude Sommer. Sebastián followed them, paying close attention to the instructions Ian provided about tailing a subject. In fifteen minutes, the government vehicle signaled and made a turn into the Naval Mechanic’s parking lot. Sebastián maintained his speed and continued by the prison. A minute later he pulled over and documented everything he witnessed. He made a note that the two men with the woman looked like the military secret police. He wondered why they would be going to ESMA as he was not yet aware of the buildings use.

Back at his apartment, Ian was finding it difficult trying to rationalize his time with a Nazi war criminal, who apparently was still actively involved in her trade of torture and death. Being a Catholic, and a person with limited experience with intimacy he felt very conflicted about having such a relationship with someone so evil. It gave him a sense of profound sinfulness and felt he needed to address these feelings by seeking out a local priest for absolution.

He went to Mr. Lu’s shop to look up a local Catholic church from the phone book and found the Parroquia Nuestra Señora de las Mercedes. It was a short walk from his apartment and he decided to go over to it to see if they posted Mass and Confessional times. It was a church in the Spanish Colonial style of architecture, an “L” shape structure with a tower attached to a parish house. Ian liked its simplicity and humble presence. It reminded him of his high school chapel which he felt was agnostic to any religion but built for pure spiritualism. This was the place for him and he noted their Confessional started after their 7 AM Mass.

The next morning Ian made his way to the church. The morning Mass just finished and a couple of elderly parishioners remained praying the stations of the cross. Ian saw an older priest making his way to the confessional box and closed the door behind him. Ian joined the priest in the adjoining booth and the connecting privacy curtain was closed. In Spanish, he said, “Bless me Father for I have sinned, it has been a long time since my last confession.” The priest sensed Spanish was not his primary language and tried speaking to Ian in English. “My son, what are your sins, let God help absolve you.”

“Thank you, Father, it’s hard to explain, and I can’t really tell you the details, but I’m on a mission which required me to do some things I’m feeling pretty bad about, but I had to do them for the sake of justice.”

There was a pause before the priest responded.

“My son, God needs to know the level of your sin. Whether it is Mortal or Venial in order to protect your soul.”

“Well Father, it involves a woman who has done some terrible things and continues to do so, lots of my activity has involved lying, promiscuous behavior and physical violence.”

“My son, thank you for releasing your burden to God. You don’t sound from here, where are you from my son?”

Ian’s internal warning system alerted him that this priest was not going to abide by confessional privilege. He sensed the priest was looking for more information but just not for God. For several seconds, there was a silence of suspicion in the confessional. Then Ian immediately left the booth, the curtain flapping in his wake, as the priest quickly exited his box trying to catch a glimpse of Ian. But he was too late and just saw the back of a young man in a t-shirt and jeans exiting through the main door.

Ian’s instincts were correct. The priest went back to his rectory and made a phone call to his contact in the Ministry of Social Welfare to report on this young man.

When Ian arrived home he transmitted all that happened to New York, and now realized things were getting more serious and dangerous.

 

Part 3 – The Dirty War

“You can cut all the flowers but you cannot keep spring from coming.”

Pablo Neruda

 

Chapter 23

In the early morning hours of March 24th, the Isabel Peron government was overthrown by a Right-Wing military coup d’état. Isabel Peron was a frightened leader when she took over the Presidency after her husband died in June 1974 and feared this eventual outcome. It was orchestrated by a rogues’ gallery of Fascist orientated military leaders, led by General Jorge Rafael Videla. The junta took the official name of the National Reorganization Process. The United States government knew about the coup two months before it happened.  Henry Kissinger communicated with the junta on several occasions urging them to quickly “dispatch” their opposition before the World could start protesting about the human rights violations.

The junta took Kissinger’s advice and started to quickly round up their opposition, the ESMA prison became extremely busy. Gertrude Sommer’s skills and experience in managing large groups of prisoners was noticed by her boss, Colonel José Dias, and he rewarded Sommer by placing her in charge of all prison operations at ESMA.

The morning was relatively quiet except for the constant military music played over the airwaves and military parades shown on all the television programming.

Sebastián got to Ian’s place promptly at 10 AM, and he excitedly entered Ian’s apartment waving a copy of the morning Buenos Aires Herald.

“Peter! It happened, just like I warned you. The military Fascists have taken over and we are under martial law. I don’t know if a curfew will be in place today. We have to be careful. Keep away from any groups protesting or you will likely be detained or worse!”

“I know Sebastián, we have to be careful. But we still need to carry out my work here. I need you to do something extra for me when you tail Sylvia Rivera.”

Ian presented his small Minox camera to Sebastián, who displayed a puzzled look.

“What’s this Peter?”

“It’s a small camera which I will show you how to use. I need you to try to take some photographs of Sylvia Rivera. Don’t be afraid of taking a bad photo. Just fire away from all distances and angles. I can get the photos enhanced and we’ll be all set. Can you do this for me today? Then meet me back here at noontime tomorrow?”

“Yes, Peter, I can do this for you. I will be careful. Again, please stay away from the protestors and the military squads patrolling the streets.”

Sebastián quickly left and Ian went on to his shortwave set to communicate the recent news of the coup. After which he made a long-distance phone call home to reassure his parents he was safe and he really wasn’t affected by the political upheaval. He also told them he would keep away from all the protest activity and away from the military presence on the streets. His parents still worried, and pleaded for Ian to come home. However, the quality of the phone call diminished and it was hard to understand each other. Ian tried to call back but could not get an outside long-distance line, which was a convenient interruption.

The day was extremely busy at the Ministry of Social Welfare. José Rega Lopez, the Warlock, found it an opportune time to organize his Argentine Anticommunist Alliance known as ‘Triple A’, the junta’s death squad.

He met with his staff giving an overall directive to start rounding up all political suspects. The group broke up into their organizational units to implement the directive. The Warlock’s lieutenant Juan Carlos was in charge of the identification and apprehension of all political opposition. He and his team needed to review all the possible suspects they had to arrest. Absent from this meeting was Mauro’s father Colonel José Diaz. Which was fortunate for Ian, because the group once again discussed the status of both Ian and Sebastián.

“Gentlemen, I see on our list of suspects two people we followed a couple of months ago. Sebastián Salazar is a former member of the Peronist Youth Movement and his Canadian friend Peter Müller who is here on a visitor Visa.”

One of the staff members spoke up about a phone call he recently received from a priest informant.

“Juan, one of our priests described an unusual experience in the Confessional a week ago with a young man who sounded like he was from North American. The kid fled the Confessional when the priest tried to get some personal information.”

“Interesting, hmmm, it could be our Canadian. In any case, this relationship between Salazar and the Canadian still seems odd to me. We probably should have continued our surveillance on them. Go get these guys. Take Salazar to ESMA and the Canadian to the police station in the Belgrano barrio. I’ll interview the Canadian.”

Sebastián made his way back to Pico street, parked and waited. One hour later he saw Sylvia Rivera leave her place with a shopping bag. He assumed she was heading to the marketplace further down the street. Now knowing the area, he drove around the block and reached the marketplace before she arrived. He found a table at a café near the entrance, providing him with an unobstructed view of anyone entering the area. He thought about the best way of using the camera discretely and came up with the following plan. When she approaches the entrance, he will take off his black colored berét and hold it in front of his face as if trying to wipe perspiration off his forehead, but he would also be holding the small black colored camera next to the berét and would be able to look through the viewfinder without being noticed.

He could now see her coming from a distance and when she was ten meters away with her focus towards the entrance Sebastián successfully snapped off several photos.  He waited for her return and then got into his car and parked back at Pico street so he could continue his surveillance on her the rest of the day.

Ian was still back in his apartment when he decided it was time to pack up his rucksack with all his important travel essentials; passport, cash, and some basic clothing. He sensed dangerous situations ahead and wanted to be ready to flee at a moment’s notice. Once again he transmitted to New York the current update. He told them his photographic evidence would soon be in the hands of his contact in Uruguay and mentioned his concerns about the current turbulent political environment.

The next morning Ian started to prepare for his trip across the Rio De La Plata by ferry. It was vital to drop off his film with his contact in Uruguay so it could be sent onto the Mossad. He retrieved his Uruguay contact information from a concealed pocket in one of his jackets.  Alejandro Carmona was his contact’s name and he had a small photography shop at the corner of Del Julio and Rivera streets in the port town of Colonia del Sacramento. His map indicated it was a short distance from the ferry terminal.

Ian still had several hours to wait before Sebastián would show up at noontime with his camera. He was counting on Sebastián to have successfully photographed Sommer. Anxiously waiting, Ian decided the best use of his time would be to take a taxi to the ferry terminal in the San Fernando area of Buenos Aires. He wanted to get a better understanding of the ferry schedule as he had a hard time getting any information on the schedule near his apartment. He also wanted to familiarize himself with the surroundings in case he would ever be pressed for time.  It was just a thirty-minute ride getting to the terminal and he discovered they had four scheduled trips to Colonia del Sacramento each day, 8 AM, 12 PM, 2 PM, and 6 PM. He saw a line for tickets and decided it might save him some time if he got the ticket for the 2 PM departure ahead of time.

It was 11:30 when Ian purchased his ticket and left the ferry terminal. He hailed a taxi and while on route hit the lunchtime traffic and was going to be late for his rendezvous with Sebastián.

Meanwhile back at Ian’s apartment at Juramento street, Sebastián was just pulling into a parking space a few minutes prior to noontime.  He ran to the entrance of Mr. Lu’s market with the small “spy” camera concealed in his large hand.

At the same time he was entering Lu’s market, Sebastián noticed Mr. Lu had a frightened face and his eyes spoke ‘watch out behind you!’.

Two large men wearing ill-fitting dark and dusty suits rushed in behind Sebastián and yelled his name. They stopped just inside the entrance several feet away from Sebastián with their hands on their holsters.

They yelled firmly and with anger. “Sebastián Salazar, you are wanted for questioning. You have to come with us.” These were serious looking men in their forties. Their worn and distressed facial features suggested they would not be playing any games.

Sebastián froze while standing on the other side of the counter from Mr. Lu. He slowly turned towards them and as he did he discreetly and quietly placed the camera behind a bag on the counter, which made Mr. Lu even more frightened. To further conceal the camera, he decided to walk a path towards the men which would still screen the camera from their line of sight and give Mr. Lu a chance to remove it from the counter.

“I am Sebastián Salazar. What’s the problem?”

The men approached Sebastián without responding to his question, placed handcuffs on him and took him away. Two more men made from the same ilk as the ones who took Sebastián appeared and walked through the hallway past Mr. Lu’s shop to the stairway leading to Ian’s apartment on the second floor. They quickly ran up the stairs and Mr. Lu could hear the men break open Ian’s door and then heard them rummaging around his apartment, then a crashing and breaking noise. The men, within a few minutes, quickly exited the building.

It was close to 1 PM when Ian was dropped off by his taxi, he walked through the hallway towards the stairs when Lu saw him and yelled.

“Peter! Come here.”

“What’s up, Mr. Lu?”

Mr. Lu was very upset and excitedly described what happened. “Peter, your friend Sebastián was taken away! I think by the secret police! Then some other men went to your place and tore it apart!  Just a few minutes ago! I think you better get out of here fast!”

Ian turned quickly toward the stairs.

“Wait! Before Sebastián was taken he left this small thing with me. Is it yours?”

“Thank you, Mr. Lu, it’s mine, just some piece of equipment he was holding for me.”

Ian didn’t want to tell Mr. Lu what it really was as he knew he would soon be questioned. He ran up the stairs to his apartment to find the door broken open. The room was a mess with all his drawers opened and his clothes thrown onto the floor. Books and other personal items had been tossed about the room. Then he saw his short-wave equipment destroyed. He quickly grabbed a few personal items and a couple of pieces of additional clothing and placed them in his rucksack and quickly fled the building.

“I have to go now, Mr. Lu! Thank you for all the help. Be careful!”

Ian made it to the street and waved down a taxi, but just at the moment it was pulling over about forty meters down the same side of the street a car slowed down behind them. Ian glanced over his shoulder and saw two men in the car looking directly at him. Ian tried acting calm as if he didn’t notice his pursuers and slowly entered the taxi. With his window rolled down he could hear the faint sounds from their car’s dispatch equipment.

The two secret police officers felt following their subject might be an opportunity in finding more enemies of the new regime. They called HQ requesting permission and it was granted.

Ian asked the driver to take him to the ferry terminal in San Fernando. He wondered why they decided not to arrest him right away, then it occurred to him, they wanted to see where he would lead them.

Arriving at the terminal, Ian tried to walk as if he was not a wanted man. The ferry was leaving in just a few minutes and Ian was thankful he bought his ticket ahead of time and boarded the ferry immediately. This wasn’t an issue for the police as they just flashed their badges while being thirty meters behind Ian.

Ian tried to make it seem he had no idea that he was being followed, though he kept an eye on both men whether through a glance or by reflection off objects. He decided he needed to sit down for a while and think through his options. The two men sat down as well on the other side of the cabin.

Feeling nervous and a bit confused he took a deep breath to relax and recalled the coaching he received from both Damien and Yury. He cleared his mind of fear and started thinking logically and pragmatically about the situation. He knew at some point these men would try and take him. When and where could not be determined as he didn’t know their judicial powers in Uruguay, which made him consider he might put his Uruguayan contact in jeopardy. If the judicial relationship between the two countries was problematic, it might be easier for them to liquidate both on the spot versus trying to extradite them back to Argentina. Or perhaps at some point in this ferry ride, they would simply throw him overboard. In either scenario, Ian felt he would either be captured or killed and determined his best option was to decide his own fate.

He noticed the ferry was only a quarter occupied and most everyone on board were on the top deck or bow of the ship. The stern was vacant. Ian decided once they were a bit further along on the journey and closer to the Uruguayan port he would draw the two men towards him while in the stern. He would then confront them and hopefully subdue both quickly without drawing attention and then be able to depart freely.

It was time to move as Ian could see the port town of Colonia del Sacramento in the distance. He got up and made his way to the lower deck of the stern. This was an uncovered part of the boat which was positioned low to the water. No one was in the immediate area and Ian just waited and leaned on the railing. He thought about the best way to engage them and felt talking to them directly would bring about a quick confrontation.

The two men awkwardly entered the stern area and if they had thought Ian was oblivious to them they quickly determined he wasn’t anymore. Now being recognized, their plans of following Ian changed to something more drastic. Heading toward Uruguayan jurisdiction they felt they would lose their suspect, which would be treated more harshly by their superiors than if they killed their suspect. So, with judicial impunity within the current state of Argentina, they decided to stab Ian to death and throw his body overboard. This was all planned under their breath as they were just 10 meters down the railing from Ian.

Ian addressed them in Spanish. “Well friends, what do you want?” This initiated their movement towards Ian, immediately indicating their violent intentions.

The stern area offered limited space and just one of the large men was able to proceed towards Ian. Both men were over-confident in their ability to dispatch the younger man.  The first man approached and extended his arms and placed his large hands on Ian’s shoulders. Ian reacted swiftly as if in fast-forward motion compared to his attackers. He first delivered a quick and debilitating blow to the thorax region of the man’s neck causing him to choke and at the same time boxed both his ears putting the man in a dazed and unbalanced state. As he stumbled forward, Ian with a quick and accurate kick broke the man’s leg at the kneecap which immobilized the assailant to the floor.

The next man came at Ian with a knife trying to do this work silently. Ian thrust his arm forward to deflect the man’s lunge with the knife, but his forearm caught the blade and was deeply gashed. After the deflection, Ian jumped up in the air kicking the man in the groin and at the same time delivered a quick gauge to the assailant’s eyes. The attacker was bent over in pain and when Ian landed he took the man onto his shoulder and flipped him over the railing into the Rio De La Plata. Ian could hear the PA system of the ferry announcing their arrival at the port. The man he first subdued recovered enough for a second attempt, he drew out his pistol which Ian quickly knocked from his hand, and then broke the man’s arm by inverting it at the elbow opposite the way this hinge joint normally works. He then grabbed the man pulling him forward and leveraged the man’s own weight in flinging him over the railing into the water.

Successfully defending himself, he realized he had a deep cut on his forearm with blood smeared onto the deck and railing. Ian ripped off the lower part of his t-shirt and wrapped his wound tightly to close the gash and stop the bleeding.

When he looked up to start heading off the boat there was an older tourist couple in their summer Bermuda shorts and fun sun hats staring at Ian with an amazed look on their faces. He slowly walked by them and placed his finger to his lips indicating to them to be quiet.

Ian walked calmly but purposefully off the ferry. He had memorized the location of his contact Alejandro Carmona’s photography shop from his local map. During his walk, his conscience started getting the best of him. He was concerned he may have killed both men from the beating and then throwing them overboard. But a minute later heard sirens from a couple of emergency vehicles heading to the ferry. He hoped they survived but was also happy to know they wouldn’t be arresting anyone in the near future and would probably be at the local Uruguayan police station for a while answering a lot of questions.

Ian was bleeding profusely from his wound, as he walked, the cotton tourniquet he applied became saturated and was dripping blood to the pavement. Further down Rivera street, Ian could see his contact’s photography shop on the corner. He was concerned he might draw unwanted attention due to his wound, and the fact he was a foreigner, but the shop appeared empty. This made sense to Ian as it was La Siesta time during the first half of the afternoon. He did hope his contact would be there.

The shop was open and Ian entered to a small empty room, which was full of old camera equipment. It seemed more like an antique shop and a place where few people would frequent. No one seemed to be present and Ian was trying hard not to spill blood on the floor. There was a small counter bell which he rang. Out of the small attached back room came a bespectacled elderly man.

“Excuse me, are you Señor Carmona?”

The man had a slightly surprised look but then it resolved immediately knowing this could only be Raguel.

“Yes, I am. Young man, you have a bad cut, we need to treat this right away. May I ask your name?” Señor Carmona wanted to be sure it was indeed his local field operative.

Ian remembered the protocol. “I am Raguel, Señor.”

The old man quickly reached for the phone and called someone for assistance.

Alejandro Carmona was originally from Mexico. He emigrated to Uruguay with his parents at the beginning of the twentieth century. His relationship with the Mossad was at best a serendipitous one. During World War II in mid-December, 1939, the British engaged the Germans in a sea battle with their cruisers Ajax and Achilles chasing the German battleship Admiral Graf Spee from the South Atlantic into the Rio De La Plata. The Germans were looking for safe-haven in the neutral port of Montevideo, Uruguay. During a seventy-two hour stand-off, the German commander scuttled his own ship with explosives while getting his crew of twelve hundred men interned in Buenos Aires. Some of the crew eventually repatriated to Germany during the war while others stayed in the German communities of Buenos Aires working for the German espionage network in Argentina and throughout other South American countries.

Alejandro Carmona at the time was hired by the British embassy as a photographer during the Graf Spee stand-off.  It was here he met British Intelligence who recruited him to do espionage for Britain and to spy on the German presence in both Argentina and Uruguay. He worked for British intelligence for many years, later being introduced to the Mossad to aid in their Nazi hunting.

“Ok Señor Raguel, let’s get you in the back room here to dress that wound.”

Carmona had a small medical kit he took out and bandaged the wound the best he could. He got Ian a beer to help him cool off and relax until his aid came.

Minutes later an attractive young woman entered the shop.

“Ah Maria, thank you for coming.”

Maria was an emergency room nurse who happened to be “on-call” for any emergency situation Alejandro Carmona encountered. Often she was attending to his failing health.

She had come prepared with sutures and needles. Maria quietly administered a numbing cream to the surface of Ian’s skin near the wound and then gave him a lidocaine and tetanus shot. She sutured him up in just a few minutes and then left as quietly as she arrived.

After finishing his beer, the two men talked.

“Señor Carmona, I have something very important to give you.” Ian reached into his rucksack and took out his camera. “I have some very important film you need to send to our people as soon as possible. I’m not sure if you send it to New York or…”  Ian was interrupted by the old man. “No worries Señor Raguel, I know who to send it to and it will be received very fast. What else can I assist you with?”

Ian decided he could trust his elderly contact and explained what had just happened, partially to review the situation in his own mind but also to get any wisdom this man would have to offer based on his experiences over the years in his line of work.

“Well, I have two major concerns. One, my colleague Sebastián was taken earlier today by the police and I believe he is probably being held at the ESMA prison. I actually have a connection with the prison as I know the commandant’s son and I have been able to get access to the facility. Two, I want to make sure my target will be caught and tried for her crimes.”

“Hmm, Señor Raguel, based on what I have seen on the television news and read in the papers there is a lot of upheaval in Buenos Aires and even throughout Argentina. First, if the photographs in this film are what I think they are you have completed your mission and should return home quickly, possibly by the airport at Montevideo. I can arrange this for you. In regards to your target, I think it will be very hard for the Mossad to extract this person from Argentina, especially now, when it’s in a military state and under martial law. I helped the Mossad team in 1960 capture Adolf Eichmann, and though it was sixteen years ago, the Argentines have not forgotten and will make it near impossible to get her out. But who knows, the Mossad sometimes does the impossible.”

“Señor Carmona, can I have another beer? I need to think.”

Ian sat nursing his beer thinking through all the information he had gained over the last few months and thinking through all his possible next moves. The old man walked about cleaning up his shop and wiping Ian’s blood off the floor.  Close to one hour passed when Ian came to a decision.

“Señor Carmona, I’m not going back right away. But I do need to know if you or you know someone who can forge a Canadian passport for me? I think it’ll be safer versus using my existing one, should my name be on any lists.”

“Yes, I can do this for you in a couple of hours.”

“Ok, that’s great. Here’s my current passport. Thanks for all your support.”

The old man reached into a lower desk drawer and unlocked a box, inside was an array of passports from various countries, he took out a Canadian passport and started his alterations.

Ian was sitting beside him and started thinking about his next move.

“There may be a way to get Sebastián out of the ESMA prison. I’ll contact Mauro and tell him I have a friend who was wrongly arrested and not a threat to the current regime. He might be able to help get him out. But, if I’m on a wanted list, Mauro might know this and turn me in, just out of loyalty to his father.  I could ask Christina if Mauro knows my current “status”, if not, Sebastián has a chance.”

Ian was also concerned the Mossad might not be able to extract Gertrude Sommer and she would evade justice a second time. Then his plan started to emerge.

“If I can get Sebastián released, then we could try and take Sommer to Uruguay, and keep her captive there. This might make it easier for the Mossad to get her out.”

He broached the idea with Señor Carmona.

“Yes, it would be less difficult getting her out from here, but I think your plan is too dangerous and you should do what I recommend and leave for home now.”

“How’s my passport coming along?”

Ian decided he was going try. But if getting Sebastián was not possible, based on the information from Christina, he might consider returning home. Optimistically, the new military government was currently in such disarray the communication amongst their departments probably lacked coordination, especially concerning one young individual who was only a possible annoyance at best. His importance on the “to do list” of the new military regime would be quite low.

“What name would you like on your new passport?”

Ian thought for a moment. “How about Paul Bienvenu? I think a good French-Canadian surname would serve me well.”

Ian continued to think about the logistics of getting Sommer out of Argentina.

“Señor Carmona, there might be something else I’ll need. Is it possible you could get me a strong sedative which if administered could knock someone out for a few hours? I would also need your help in the transport of three people from Buenos Aires to here.  Perhaps we could secure a small speedboat to cross the river Plata?

“Yes, I can call Maria, the nurse, for the sedative. Let me think about the boat.”

“Thank you for all your assistance, now, can I use your phone to call my friend Christina in Buenos Aires?” Ian knew he needed to work fast, as more time passed, his plans would be more difficult and dangerous. He had to get onto the late ferry back to Buenos Aires.

Chapter 24

“Hello, Christina?

“Peter?  Where are you?  Mauro and I have been trying to get in touch with you, are you are ok? There’s lots of crazy stuff going on here.”

“Christina, I went for a short-day trip to Uruguay and will be coming home soon. You mentioned Mauro was looking for me, do you know what he wanted?

“No, nothing, he just wanted to get together, the three of us. He’s been pretty busy with his part-time job at ESMA. But he should be around this evening.”

“Ok, Christina, thanks, I’ll give him a call, maybe we can all try and get together on the weekend. I’m looking forward to seeing you.”

“Same here Peter. Bye now, and be careful.”

Ian decided he could take a calculated risk in contacting Mauro.  Christina’s information confirmed his hunch that the communication between the various departments of the military junta was not yet functioning well. His time window to help Sebastián and capture Sommer was closing fast.

Señor Carmona had finished Ian’s new passport and suggested he could make the 7:30 PM ferry back to Buenos Aires. It was close to 6 PM and he needed to go out for a few minutes to make arrangements for a boat, he asked Ian to lock the door behind him.

Ian thought through the timing of returning to Buenos Aires. He would be back around 8:30 PM and perhaps Mauro could pick him up at the ferry terminal. Then they could discuss Sebastián’s release. But first, he needs to call Mauro. He usually stayed at his parents’ home during his day’s off from his ESMA job. Ian hoped he was consistent in his behaviors.

The phone rang and Mauro answered.

“Mauro!  This is Peter!”

Mauro, who really liked Peter as a friend, perhaps due to the way Peter made him feel good about himself, was excited to get his call.

“Peter! Christina and I have been trying to get a hold of you. We haven’t seen you for a while and were concerned for your safety, especially during this government transition, for the better, I must say.”

“Thanks for your concern Mauro, I really appreciate your friendship and also Christina’s. Yeah, it’s crazy around here. I had to get a change of scenery, so I visited Uruguay today but will be coming back on the last boat to Buenos Aires tonight. Mauro, there’s a problem I think you might be able to help me with, but of course, I don’t want to put you in a bad position so you can decline if you feel it’s not possible.”  Ian was doing his best in manipulating Mauro, trying to make it hard for him to say no.

“Peter, whatever it is, I would be happy to help.”

“Thank you so much. Mauro, my friend Sebastián, who’s been my driver here in Buenos Aires was picked up by the police for questioning. I think there’s a good chance he’ll be at ESMA.  He’s innocent Mauro. At one time a few years ago he was with the Peronist Youth Movement, but over the last few years, he has been very apolitical. He even tells me all the time to avoid the politics here and keep away from the opposition and any protest demonstrations. He’s a good guy Mauro, do you think you could get him released?

“Wow Peter, I wasn’t expecting a request like this. This would be very hard to do, and I could get into a lot of trouble if I have him released. And I don’t even know if I could do this. Hey, if he’s really innocent, after some questioning he should be released.”

Ian knew that wasn’t true, once in ESMA the chance of being released was low. And with the current turmoil, it would be unlikely to release any suspected enemy of the new regime as it would undermine their control and perhaps release an opponent they would have to deal with again.

“Mauro, do you really think he has a chance of being released, especially now?”

“You’re right Peter; he probably won’t see his freedom.”

Mauro, wanting to help his friend, and at the same time regain his stature with Ian suggested the following plan.

“Peter, how about this. I pick you up at the ferry terminal and we immediately go see if your friend is at ESMA. If he’s there, I know I can get us access to him, and at the least get an update on his status. What do you think?”

“Mauro, this sounds great. I really appreciate your assistance. I should be at the ferry terminal in San Fernando at about 8:30 PM.  I’ll look for your Fiat, once I clear through customs.”

“Ok Peter, see you tonight.”

Suddenly there was a knock on the door. It was Señor Carmona returning from his efforts in securing a boat.

“Señor Raguel, I have good news to report. I do have access to a speedboat. But you must know the trip is about fifty-seven Kilometers and can be a very difficult trip during bad weather.”

“Thank you, Señor Carmona, you have helped me out so much. Having this boat will help bypass the harbors and customs. Is there a place on the Buenos Aires side we can discreetly launch from?”

“There is Señor Raguel, a place we have used before. It’s an inlet south of Buenos Aires which you can access off of Ricardo Balbin drive. The road is Camino Interno which you take all the way to its dead end. It’s about a half-hour drive from downtown Buenos Aires. Once at the dead-end it’s a short walk along a trail to the inlet.  The distance from Colonia del Sacramento to the inlet is actually shorter than to the Ferry terminal at San Fernando.”

“Ok, if everything works out I’ll call you a few hours before I need you at that location. But will you be near the phone?”

“Yes, I actually live upstairs and will be near the phone until I hear from you.  I just need three hours’ notice at the minimum to get the boat to that spot. Here’s a small flash-light should you arrive at night. It will help you walk along the path from the dead-end of the street to the inlet. Once at the inlet flash it three times and you’ll receive three flashes back to confirm the pick-up. During the daytime, you should not have a problem identifying the boat as this inlet is a very quiet place and is quite isolated from people. Plus, I’ll be piloting the boat.”

At that moment Maria came into the shop. “Here’s what you asked for Señor Carmona.” She handed him a syringe filled with a strong sedative stored within a small black case. “It will knock-out a person for at least eight hours.”

Ian packed his rucksack with the syringe case and some extra bandages and gauze, walked to the door, paused, turned around, and said his farewell and thanked them for their assistance. He walked to catch the 7:30 PM ferry departure. He noticed a police presence in the terminal area, perhaps still doing their investigation of his previous ‘work’.

On board, he went to the bow of the ship and leaned on the railing reflecting on all that has happened over the last few months. During this introspection, he couldn’t recognize himself. This was not the same person who had just graduated from high school in Montreal, but someone who quickly evolved into more experienced and Worldly version of himself.

The one hour journey across the Rio De La Plata was uneventful and provided Ian time for repose and consideration of his options going forward. He saw the twinkling lights of Buenos Aires off in the distance, a beautiful sight on this warm summer night, but he also recognized it as a place of danger awaiting his return.

The ferry pulled into port and the small number of passengers started to exit off the ferry’s gangway. Ian presented his new passport to the two Customs officers who looked at Ian suspiciously. There was a pause as one of the Officers decided to take Ian’s passport into an adjacent office. Ian could see him through a window as the customs officer read through a long sheet of paper. After a couple of minutes, he slowly walked back towards Ian and stood looking at Ian face to face for several long seconds, then smiled. “Welcome to Argentina Señor Bienvenu.”

Now in the parking lot of the ferry terminal, Ian surveyed the area looking for Mauro’s Fiat 124 but also for the presence of police. He still didn’t know his level of significance to the current regime. Just because Mauro didn’t know, it didn’t mean the police and military were not searching for him. He felt he would soon know his fate. He would either be rescuing Sebastián and capturing Sommer or executing an escape plan; he blocked out the third option. In either case, Señor Carmona’s boat would play an important role.  At that moment a car honked and there was a screeching of brakes as Mauro pulled up next to Ian.

“Hi, Peter! Jump in!”

Mauro speed away from the terminal. “Peter, we’ll go now to ESMA, it’s a good time to go as our new commandant is off for the next couple of days. I think you met her at Christina’s party, Sylvia Rivera. She’s a bitch to work for. We all hate her. I also called my friend at the front desk and he told me Sebastián is there, and his status is not good.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means he’s now in the basement and will be taken tonight at 11 PM to another, more intense facility.”

Ian remained silent for a few minutes and tried to think through some possible rescue plans.

“Mauro, is there any way we can get him out of there? Maybe ask your friends or I can possibly give them a bribe?”

“No Peter, it can’t be done, lots of people would be in trouble. I can ask my father but I doubt he could or would help. But let’s go and at least you can see him and talk with him, and just let him know you’re aware of his situation, which will give him some hope.”

Ian felt the situation for Sebastián was dire but still saw purpose in going to the ESMA prison, as he might be able to visualize solutions within the environment. He didn’t seem overly concerned with being caught, perhaps due to a false sense of security based on what he could be charged with and confidence in the legal system’s treatment of a North American, which he didn’t realize was now manipulated by the new military junta. He only had a relationship with someone who was briefly in the Peronist Youth Movement and some short-wave radio equipment in his apartment, which he could explain. Though, if linked to the beating of the two secret police officers he would be charged with a more serious crime. Yet, he had confidence in the support from Mauro and ironically even from Gertrude Sommer should he be captured.

They entered the ESMA parking lot and Ian noticed quite a change in the demeanor of the facility. Prior to the coup d’état, there was a hidden presence of authority as to not attract attention; after the coup, the military presence was dramatic to ward off any thoughts of aggression towards the facility. Soldiers patrolled the grounds armed with automatic weapons.  Several stood behind the cover of stacked sandbags strategically placed on the corners of the prison. Ian fell further into a hopeless state for rescuing Sebastián.

They entered the prison and Ian noticed the same personnel at the front desk and guarding the hallways. The guards acknowledged Ian in a friendly manner, which gave him some confidence in his presence. The atmosphere was chaotic versus his prior visits, as there was a constant flow of people coming into the prison. Personnel and prisoners shuffled between the floors and the whole facility had a feel of organized confusion.

Mauro and Ian descended the spiral staircase to the basement floor. The basement seemed quieter compared to the floors above, mostly due to one large holding cell filled with drugged prisoners who didn’t require much oversight.

They approached the entrance to the room and Ian noticed a sheet of paper attached to the outside door with a pencil hanging from a hook. These were the names of the prisoners inside the room. Ian counted eleven names on the list.

Entering the room, they saw men and women lying on the floor with their hands tied behind their backs and their heads covered with burlap sacks. Some of them were unconscious while others were mumbling their words. Ian immediately recognized Sebastián from his body form and clothing, he went quickly to his side and held him in his arms.

“Sebastián! It’s me, Peter! I am going to try and get you out of here.” Sebastián, had enough conscience attention to understand, and groggily acknowledged Ian.

Mauro came over and gently placed a hand on Ian’s shoulder. “Peter, it’s time we go. These guys will be taken away in about thirty minutes, we have to be out of the way.”

Ian reluctantly withdrew and exited the room with Mauro leading the way. It was at this moment Ian started envisioning a solution. He knew the layout of the prison, the guard locations, the schedules and kept thinking of a plan that could leverage this knowledge.  What surfaced surprised and excited him.

Ian’s favorite book, The Count of Monte Cristo, might have miraculously offered an escape plan. But would it really work or was it purely a fantasy which he would never dare try? In the book, the protagonist Edmond Dantés had been wrongly imprisoned in the Château D’if prison for life. He found his freedom by exchanging places with a dead man who was also covered in a burlap sack to be thrown over a cliff into the sea. Edmund Dantés’ plan worked and he escaped his doomed sentence. Could Ian do the same in saving his friends life and escaping his own capture?

Ian started adapting Edmund Dantés plan to the current context while he ascended the spiral staircase. It would entail getting back into the prisoner’s cell and placing one of the burlap bags over his head and loosely tie his hands behind his back. He was confident that only one or two guards would be required to transport these heavily drugged men to the next facility. He felt at some point when the time was right, he could quickly subdue the guards while on route and free Sebastián. Outside the prison, he remembered seeing a standard canvas covered army truck ready to be used for the transport, which gave Ian more confidence of breaking free with Sebastián.

It was getting close to 11 PM, the time the guards would come to move the drugged prisoners.

Walking through the lobby Ian quickly worked out the details of his plan.  Upon exiting the prison, he would tell Mauro he would be walking home. When Mauro left, he would come back to the prison with some excuse to get back inside.  When back inside, he felt he could easily get back to the basement. It was sparsely guarded, but if he created some kind of distraction on the main floor, he felt there would be less of a chance of being noticed and perhaps forgotten about altogether. The diversion would also give him the time to add another name to the prisoner list on the door, lock the door behind himself and then take a burlap sack and some rope off the office desk, which there were many, and conceal himself with the rest of the drugged prisoners.

But Ian had an inner conflict between self-preservation and his desire to save his friend’s life. He found it a difficult choice. He leaned towards saving his friend as the inexperience of his young mind prevented him from seeing the true reality of the danger and gave the fantasy of the rescue a false sense of success.

He and Mauro were now at ESMA’s entrance door. He had to decide at that moment what to do. Much like in The Count of Monte Cristo, Ian felt God had intervened, as the circumstances suddenly changed. From the main entrance, Ian saw at the far end of the parking lot the two men whom he beat and threw overboard from the ferry get out of a taxi. They were in bad condition with some loose bandaging, supporting each other and limping slowly towards the entrance.

There was a very good chance of being recognized leaving the facility with Mauro as they would have to walk along the same lane towards these men. If they identified Ian, his punishment could be severe. Even though he didn’t feel too close to his creator he took this as a sign from God to pursue Sebastián’s rescue.

“Mauro, it’s a nice night, I think I’ll walk home. I also have a few things on my mind I want to think about. Would you be able to drop off my rucksack at Christina’s on your way home?”

“Not a problem Ian, maybe you, Christina and I can get together tomorrow for lunch.”

Ian took off his rucksack and quickly with sleight of hand took out his two passports and put them in the side pocket of his cargo pants, then he quickly grabbed the small syringe box and placed it in his other side pocket, then handed over the bag to Mauro. They both descended the front steps between the giant columns of the building when Ian suddenly stopped.

“Oh, I think I should use the bathroom before I head home. Anyway, see you tomorrow Mauro.”

Ian re-entered the front lobby, and at the same moment figured out a diversion.

“Guys!  There are two badly wounded men outside needing assistance!” The men at the front desk and the guard to the basement, who was close by, ran outside. This gave Ian the chance to start executing his plan.

He ran down the spiral staircase to the basement floor, wrote another name on the list, locked the door behind himself, then inside the room grabbed a burlap sack and rope. He went beside Sebastián but didn’t speak to him as he wanted Sebastián to remain quiet. Then he placed the sack over his head, loosely tied his hands behind his back, and laid down silently next to Sebastián.

There were only 10 minutes remaining before these drugged men would be transported to the ‘next facility’, but unbeknownst to Ian, these men were destined to be dropped into the Rio De La Plata to their deaths.

Chapter 25

Ian knew in just a few minutes they would be taken away. He anxiously awaited as time moved slowly, what seemed an endless wait, he started questioning his decision. The sudden realization of his situation brought fear to the surface and he started to panic. His fight or flight mechanism leaned now towards flight.  He needed to take the burlap bag off, untie his hands and just tell the guards he accidentally locked himself in the room. Just then he heard the footsteps of several guards heading down the corridor towards his room. He also heard wheels rolling along the corridor, possibly carts to help transport the bodies. But something inside Ian snapped to attention and made him persevere with his plan, perhaps this was his defining moment in life to make a difference and to do something meaningful and heroic like his parents did in World War II. This sense of virtue in what he was trying to do gave him a renewed sense of confidence, strength, and determination.

The door opened and Ian could see the shadows of about five guards through his burlap covering. There was a discussion amongst the guards which Ian could make out as related to logistics.  Then the guards started to pick-up the drugged men and women and placed them on the carts. They wheeled them out the door and down the hallway to a heavily secured back basement door which exited to a back lot.

Ian and Sebastián were the next to be carried away and when outside they were placed inside a truck.  It felt much smaller than the one he saw when he first arrived and the distance from the ground to the loading area of the truck seemed to be much lower. It took the guards several more trips to move all the bodies.  After all the prisoners were loaded he heard the door slammed shut and locked from the outside. There would be no chance to break free from this small secured vehicle while it was on route. Ian now had to consider other options of escape.

Through the driver’s cabin, he could make out some of their conversations. They were basically complaining about carrying the bodies and their bad backs, but then he heard them mention an airport, Ian considered this the next opportunity to free themselves.  His chances would be pretty good if the only guards he would have to confront were the two men in the cabin of the truck.

Ian then thought about the best way to subdue these guards. He considered a surprise assault. Once they opened the door he would immediately pounce on them and carry Sebastián away to safety. But if it was a military airfield it would be difficult. Still, Ian thought his chances were overall pretty good and being late at night it would be easier to escape unnoticed.

The truck slowed down as it approached the gate to the airfield.  Ian quickly untied his hands and took off his hood and braced himself near the door so he could attack his captors. Then he heard a brief discussion as the guards were being questioned at the security gate.  The truck quickly proceeded its way onto the tarmac weaving around small planes and finally coming to an abrupt stop next to a Douglas DC-3.

Ian prepared for his confrontation. But then heard many voices outside the truck, too many to carry out his plan. He quickly placed the burlap sack back over his head and loosely tied the rope around his wrists, and laid back down next to Sebastián. Perhaps somewhere along their route to the next destination, either on the plane, after landing, or on the next vehicle there would be a better opportunity for escape.

The back door to the truck was unlocked and opened. Six guards paired up in twos to carry out each prisoner, one holding the legs while the other held the arms. Once they neared the side entrance to the DC-3, they swung the person back and forth and on the third time tossed the body into the plane which was received by two men inside the fuselage.

As Ian was being carried on the dark tarmac, he could see the shadows of the men and the outline of the plane, which he thought fairly large. He was abruptly tossed inside the plane, where he feigned drugged behavior in his movements and voiced some mumbling.  He noticed only two men present, providing him hope in the possibility of subduing these men during the flight. Ian paused and wondered why the plane. “Are they transporting us to some distant secret facility? If I wait until we land, we might be at some heavily guarded place. Dealing with these two men in flight might be my best chance.”

With all the bodies, onboard, the DC-3 engines started revving up and he could hear the side-door being closed and some shouts from a few men outside the plane. Ian was thankful he just saw two shadows in the dimly lighted fuselage as no other guards boarded the plane.  He continued to lay still as the plane started down the runway and ascended rapidly, leaving the city of Buenos Aires behind.

The Douglas DC-3 is a twin-propeller driven aircraft which was highly regarded as a very versatile plane. It could take off from short runways, be used for transport and for military operations. This DC-3 was rigged up for military paratrooper drops with five meters long ‘static lines’ attached to a wire running along the top edge of the fuselage. The fuselage had a large empty space in the middle bordered by long benches attached to either side of the plane. The drugged prisoners laid in the middle of the space strategically close to the side door.

Ian could see the shadows of the two men sitting on the side bench beside the pilot’s cabin, smoking, and carry-on some small talk.  About fifteen minutes into the flight, they both got up and went over to the door and slid it open. They went back to the bench and raised the seat, revealing a storage container. From the inside, they removed several small round 10-kilogram weights. Each weight had a rope attached to it. They took one and walked over to the closest prisoner lying near them.

Ian started to put the pieces together; the plane, length of the flight, weight to attach, and the door open. These men would be tossing the prisoners out of the plane from a high altitude into the ocean, the contact with the water would kill them and the weight would conceal their bodies.

The two men dragged one of the bound prisoners close to the open door and started to tie the ankles together with the cord from the weight.

It was time for Ian to act, not just to save Sebastián’s life but all the others. He did notice the cabin door was closed so he hoped the pilot would not hear what would be happening next.  The noise from the open door was especially loud, which would also help conceal the impending confrontation.

The two men were entirely focused on preparing the prisoner to be thrown out of the plane. Ian needed to act now if he wanted to save this prisoner’s life and to free the rest. Concealing his movements he untied his hands and slowly removed his burlap sack. The backs of the men were facing Ian, as he slowly got up in a crouch and quietly walked towards them. He was about three meters away when one saw him approaching and yelled to his partner.  Ian rapidly engaged both. They were still in a kneeling position over the prisoner when Ian kicked one of the men in the head, which sent him crashing against the side bench. The other man had risen and Ian sprang towards him, launching both a kick to the man’s midsection and a punch to his face. The man was bleeding profusely from the nose and was doubled-over while dropping to his knees. Meanwhile, the first man he attacked had recovered from his blows and tackled Ian from behind while at the same time trying to push him out the door. As Ian fell towards the door he grabbed one of the ‘static lines’ used by the paratroopers and held it as he went outside the plane taking his assailant with him, who immediately lost his grip and dropped down to the sea.

Ian swung himself back inside the plane and met the second man, who was standing dazed but still willing to fight. Ian ran and launched himself with both feet aimed high at the man’s head. He connected his blow and the man went flying head first into the bench. He immediately went unconscious but could have also been killed by the combination of the blow and contact of his head with the sharp edge of the bench.

Ian now in control rapidly went around taking off burlap sacks and untying hands. Though many were very groggy in their drugged state they knew they were being delivered from death.

Ian searched the man he had just beaten for any weapons, but just found a knife. He now had to break into the pilot’s cabin. But before doing so, he needed a plan. Due to the drugged state of his now released prisoners, he could not count on their assistance.  While walking slowly towards the cabin door with his newly appropriated knife he knew what he would do next.  One thing for certain, based on the steadiness of the flight, the pilot had no idea what had just transpired behind him. Ian felt the pilot would most likely not want to endanger himself or the plane and would comply with his demands.

At the cabin door, Ian was about to kick it in when he thought, “Why would the pilot lock the door? There would be no reason for it. I’ll just try the handle first.” As suspected it opened to find a pilot oblivious to what just occurred behind him with his focus on operating the controls. The pilot sensing someone just entered yelled in Spanish, “Has everyone been ‘dropped off’?”  He turned to look for a response and was stunned to see Ian standing at his side with an open switchblade to his neck.

Ian calmly but firmly spoke in both English and Spanish, “Señor, I want you to land this plane at a small civilian airfield as close as you can get to Colonia del Sacramento, Uruguay.” He could see in the man’s face he was quite frightened and didn’t need any additional threats to get his demands meet.

The pilot answered back in Spanish. “Yes, I can land at the airport serving Anchorena National Park and the Presidential Estate at Barra de San Juan. It is close to Colonia del Sacramento about thirty minutes by car.”

It was now closing in on midnight and from the pilot’s cockpit, Ian could see the lights of the small airport in the distance. The pilot got on the radio to get clearance from air traffic control. Clearance was given and they came in on the only illuminated runway. No other planes were taxiing and all was quiet throughout the airport.

“Ok Señor, I want to you to park this plane at a remote part of this airport, someplace dark and out of the way. I don’t want us noticed.”

“Yes, I understand, we can park the plane over there.”  An empty spot on the tarmac was open for the Douglas DC-3, it was between a couple of similarly sized planes which were parked for the night.

The pilot just completed settling the plane into the spot and shutting down the engines when Ian injected him in the neck with the heavy sedative he had retrieved from his side cargo pants pocket. The man initially panicked but Ian reassured him, “Señor, just relax, this will just make you sleep for a while and when you awake, we will all be gone and you can fly your plane home.” The sedative would give Ian and the now released prisoners an eight-hour head-start to flee for freedom or in Ian’s case to complete his objective in capturing Gertrude Sommer.

Before leaving the cockpit, Ian decided it might save lives or delay possible future deaths if he disabled the plane. He took the butt end of his knife and started breaking all the instruments on the plane’s dashboard making the plane inoperable.

Ian went back into the fuselage to find the men and women prisoners slowly gaining consciousness. He decided he needed to wait until they were all revived, especially Sebastián. He left the plane to look for water and found a faucet and bucket next to one of the small hangers. He brought back the water and started splashing it on the faces of all the former prisoners, he worked on Sebastián for a longer time. It was about 3 AM when everyone started getting to their feet. The man which Ian had beaten was also reviving, but one of the former captives who noticed and recognized the man went over and starting beating him. The rest of the people just watched in silence as many were still disoriented. The former prisoner stopped his assault as the man went limp; there would be no second revival for him.

Ian decided it was time to talk to everyone. “You are all safe. We are at a small civilian airport just north of Colonia del Sacramento, Uruguay.” In the background a couple of people where quietly translating Ian’s words into Spanish. “You need to find safety. Don’t go back to Argentina, you need to call your family or friends for assistance here in Uruguay.”

Then Ian considered an option to better secure their safety. “Ok, everyone, we need to get out of this airport. Follow me. Please help those needing assistance, no one will be left behind.”

Being a small civilian airport it was not as secured as the International airport or the military airfields. Within a few minutes, they approached an unmanned exit gate giving them access to the main roadway outside the airport.

The road was fairly quiet, but Ian spotted a taxi approaching and flagged it down. He approached the driver and asked him to have the dispatcher send over three more taxicabs. They arrived in a few minutes. All the eleven former captives were now in taxis. Ian and Sebastián rode in the lead car and gave an address near Alejandro Carmona as their destination. Ian had time to explain to Sebastián what had happened but said it quietly enough so the taxi driver would not hear.

They arrived close to 4 AM, and Ian with eleven people by his side knocked loudly on Señor Carmona’s door. He opened the door while in his pajamas and half asleep. “Señor Carmona, sorry for waking you like this but these people need our help and I have just a few more hours to complete my objective. Can you please pay the taxi drivers?”

“Yes Señor Raquel, bring them all in, I will help.”

Inside, Señor Carmona offered everyone some cognac and had them all sit together in the backroom. The old man made a phone call to his nurse friend Maria as he noticed many of the people had wounds from their incarceration. Upon overhearing the conversation, Ian asked Señor Carmona to have Maria bring another sedative shot.

Señor Carmona offered all the people the use of his phone with the condition they don’t reveal their location. They took turns calling their families and friends to make further arrangements for their freedom.

Ian had a chance to explain to Señor Carmona their recent ordeal. The old man was astonished and also worried for Ian, suggesting he leave for home tomorrow. Ian did stop and consider this alternative but felt he and Sebastián had a few hours, if not most of the day, to try and capture Sommer, still counting on the poor communication between the Argentine security forces.

Ian asked Sebastián if he could speak with him in private. “Sebastián, I have a choice, I can leave today or tomorrow for home, and I think I could request asylum for you and have you come with me. Or, I can finish my mission, which may shock you. Apart from identifying the woman you were following for me, I want to try and kidnap her out of the country and have her sent to Israel.  Sebastián, she’s a war criminal, a Nazi and is responsible for the deaths of many people. The Israeli’s are desperate to have her tried for her crimes and I’m desperate to capture her, but I need your help.”

“Peter, you saved my life, which I will never forget. And you saved the lives of these people. We are all indebted to you.  What you ask is going to be dangerous, but if you have a plan I’ll repay my debt by helping you.”

Ian called over Señor Carmona. “Señor, let’s talk about what we will do next. Can you get access to that boat now?”

“Yes I can, we can walk down to the harbor. It’s full of fuel and I have the key.”

“Ok, great, here’s what we’ll do. The three of us will leave soon on this boat and go to that inlet south of Buenos Aires. Can you call an associate you trust to pick us up at that location?”

“Yes, I know someone on that side who is well familiar with the spot and who has worked with me on other operations. Let me call him now. If we leave soon, we should arrive there around 7 AM.”

There was a knock on the door and everyone became silent. It was nurse Maria. She entered and the old man directed her to the people needing assistance in the backroom. She handed Ian the syringe with the sedative, again in a small box container.

A few minutes later Señor Carmona came to Ian to confirm his contact would be waiting for him at the inlet. The three of them prepared to leave for the boat. Señor Carmona asked the nurse to remain with everyone and provide any needed medical assistance.

Just as they were about to depart, several people from the back room came out to shake Ian’s hand, thanking him for saving their lives, one younger woman wrapped her arms around Ian tightly not wanting to let go as she sobbed in gratitude. Señor Carmona gestured to nurse Maria to console the younger woman and the three men departed for their trip across the Rio de la Plata.

Chapter 26

Ian, Sebastián and Señor Carmona where just pushing themselves away from the pier as they opened up the Mercury engine on their five meters long  Boston Whaler Montauk setting off to the hidden inlet just south of Buenos Aires. It was a gentle and quiet ride across the Rio de la Plata, both Ian and Sebastián exhausted emotionally and physically from their ordeal drifted off to sleep during the journey. Daylight was breaking over the horizon as the men arrived at the secluded inlet around 7 AM.  They tied the boat off to an overhanging tree on the shoreline and negotiated their way onto land.

About fifty meters down a footpath directly linked to their spot, they could see a small man in his fifties walking towards them.

Señor Carmona called out to him. “Matias! Thanks for coming. These are the men that need your assistance.” Matias, an Argentinean citizen had been involved in many Mossad operations over the last fifteen years, primarily helping out with logistics and intelligence gathering. His jovial attitude instantly loosened the men.

“Comrades! Welcome to Argentina, well, at least unofficially. How can I assist you, my fine men?”

After the initial greetings, Ian discussed their plan. “Matias, we need you to drive us to a location in the Nuñez barrio of Buenos Aires and stay there until we get a person we will be bringing back to the boat. Señor Carmona, you will just need to stay here as long as you can.  I would say if we don’t show up by 6 PM you should head back to your store and wait for a call. In the event, you do go back, please contact our friends in Tel Aviv about what has happened here. I’m supposed to check-in with them on Saturday morning and that won’t be happening.”

“I will, but hopefully you’ll be with me when I make that call.” Señor Carmona reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out Ian’s Minox camera. “I have sent the film on its way to our friends and have loaded in a new roll for you.”

“Thank you, Señor Carmona, I would have forgotten to ask for it back, and I’m sure I will be needing it.”

Ian and Sebastián followed Matias along the path to his car, while Señor Carmona sat down next to a tree along the shoreline for a long overdue rest.

Around this same time, The Warlock had called for an early morning meeting of his Argentine Anticommunist Alliance (Triple-A) committee. There was quite an aftermath to deal with since the military takeover. Present at the meeting were The Warlock’s lieutenants Juan Carlos and Astor Lopez, their chief of Prisons and Interrogations Colonel José Diaz, and their “Fascist consultants” from the German club Brauhaus BA, Werner Klingemann accompanied by his strongman Helmut.

First on their agenda was the missing plane. At this time, unbeknownst to them, their pilot was still un-conscience at the controls of an obscurely parked Douglas DC-3 in Uruguay.

Colonel Diaz updated the group. “We still have no word on the plane. It took off with twelve prisoners and never came back. One odd thing we noticed, our records indicated only eleven prisoners were scheduled for this flight, but they counted twelve at the airport. We’re not sure if this has any relationship to why it’s missing. The weather was good all last night. We’re thinking it could have been some kind of mechanical failure out at sea. We are in contact with the surrounding airports and will keep you updated. For now, we need to postpone further ‘deliveries’ until this plane is back or we can secure another one from the Ministry of Defense.”

The Warlock spoke. “Ok, thank you, Colonel, in the meantime I will request another plane. We need to eliminate these enemies to protect the safety of the people and the stability of our new government. What else are we dealing with? Juan Carlos?”

“Sir, we do have something of interest or maybe it’s more of a problem. A few months ago, we identified two male suspects we placed under surveillance for a couple of weeks. After our take-over, we decided to take a closer look at these two. One is a former member of the Peronist Youth Movement. We found him and brought him to ESMA, in fact, he was onboard the missing plane. The other is a young Canadian citizen who is apparently friends with the Peronist guy. I sent two men to bring him in. Yesterday, they followed him onto the ferry at San Fernando hoping to see where he might lead them; he nearly beat both of them to death and then threw them overboard as the ferry was arriving at Colonia del Sacramento harbor.

When we first heard about these two individuals our source told us the Canadian was an exceptional and highly skilled fighter, but our men who were tailing him at the time saw him beaten pretty badly by a jealous husband. We dismissed the surveillance until we recently decided to take this second look and bring them in for interrogation. We now think he might have known we were watching and purposely allowed himself to be beaten. He is still at large, but if he’s in Uruguay it will be harder to get him.”

Suddenly, both Colonel Diaz and Werner Klingemann spoke up at the same time.

“Go ahead Herr Klingemann”

“You mentioned a Canadian kid. Was his name Peter Müller?”

Juan Carlos surprised, acknowledged it was the same person.

Then Colonel Diaz with a worried look interrupted. “This guy is a friend of my son Mauro. They meet at your German Embassy party in January and have spent a lot of time together. Mauro has even brought him to ESMA several times. I met the kid at my friends’ party in Nuñez not long ago. I think he has also been with Mauro’s friend Christina Alvarez who lives very close to Sylvia Rivera.”

Werner Klingemann looking concerned. “Sylvia just mentioned to me she is spending time with this kid!”

From this triangulation of information, the Triple-A team now considered ‘Peter Müller’ a very dangerous enemy and The Warlock issued an all-points bulletin with the military and police to find him.

Additional information was revealed about ‘Peter Müller’. That he had an unlicensed shortwave transmitter in his apartment and about the information they recently received from a priest who might have heard his confession, saying the kid mentioned something about a difficult mission he was on. Suppositions were being discussed by all members. The Warlock hypothesized he might be working for a foreign communist government.  Werner Klingemann suspected the involvement of the Mossad and perhaps their continued search for some of his former WWII colleagues, perhaps even Sylvia Rivera, whom he knew worked in the concentration and extermination camps.

The Warlock gave orders. “Juan I want you to send an armed team over to the Nuñez barrio and check to see if this Canadian guy is at the Alvarez home. Also, check with Sylvia Rivera and get her up-to-date on this guy, see if she might have any additional information that would help us locate him. Send them now!”

Klingemann interjected. “Señor Rega, should we not call Sylvia and the Alvarez family now?

“No Herr Klingemann, if he should be at either place I don’t want a call to possibly warn him we’re coming.”

With the adjournment of their meeting, Juan Carlos started the coordination for the search of Peter Müller.

Back at the inlet, Ian, Sebastián, and Matias started their drive to Nuñez, specifically to Gertrude Sommer’s home. Along the route, they continued their planning.

“Sebastián, when we get to her house, I will need you guys to remain outside. We have to do this as quietly as possible. There can’t be any confrontation. It’s a tight neighborhood and the people there really know each other’s business and keep an eye out on their neighbors. I think she will be happy to see me and will invite me in.  I do know she has the day off and at this time she should be just getting out of bed. I’ll try and quietly subdue her inside by injecting her with a sedative and then I’ll wave to you from the doorway. This will be the sign for you, Matias, to drive the car to the front walkway to her house and for you Sebastián to help me bring her to the car.

Honestly, guys, I’m concerned about bringing her to the car at this time of day. We have a couple of options depending on if there are neighbors outside. If it’s quiet, we could just support her on either side of her body and escort her to the car. From a distance, it might look like we are friends taking her out for breakfast.  The alternative is wrapping her in a carpet or blanket and place her in the trunk or back seat, it will look like we are just taking away some unneeded items from her house. What do you guys think?”

Both acknowledged the plan.

Ian continued. “The only other problem is if she’s on to me, then, I’m not sure what we will do. Maybe take her by force and take our chances with the disturbance.” The atmosphere in the car suddenly became tense.

Matias sensing the group needed to relax a bit started telling some jokes and funny stories about his family, and the antics of his two sons. He also discussed his future retirement plans of living in the Sacred Valley of Peru in the town of Ollantaytambo. His fatherly way of telling stories temporarily took their minds off their impending tasks.

The group arrived at Pico street and parked about fifty meters away from Sommer’s house. It was relatively quiet on a Friday morning, just a few people appeared walking to work. Ian got out of the car and slowly walked to Sommer’s house, remembering his training with Damien he carefully observed all that was around him, thinking, the police could be sitting in a parked car waiting for him.

He knocked fairly hard on the front door, and then again. Seconds later he could see through the small window of the door Gertrude Sommer coming down the stairs in a long Japanese styled nightgown.

She was pleasantly surprised to see Peter Müller at her door and enticed by his timing for them to be together for ‘breakfast’.

“Oh, Peter, what a pleasant surprise, please come in. What brings you here at this time? Not that I am not happy to see you.” She laughed.

Ian tried to be as charming and seductive as he could in both his movements and conversation.

“Oh, I was thinking of you a lot since our last time together, I guess it got the best of me and when I got up this morning, well, here I am.”  Ian gave a mischievous smile and Sommer walked close to him in the foyer area of the house and gave Ian a long kiss, her hands grabbed Ian’s backside tightly. She then turned and held his hand and guided him upstairs to her bedroom. Sunlight was now pouring into the room reflecting off her satin bedding as if in celebration of the arriving couple and their intentions.

She took off Ian’s t-shirt and held him as they collapsed together onto the bed. She continued her dominant style of lovemaking by taking a position on top of Ian, but he knew he would have to manipulate her to be face down on the bed while he straddled her back so he could stealthily withdraw the syringe from his cargo pants pocket and inject her.

Not long before Ian arrived at Sommer’s home, Juan Carlos had dispatched an armed crew to the Alvarez house on Cuba street near the intersection with Pico. Four men quietly exited their car and cautiously surrounded Christina Alvarez’s home. They covered the garage, side of the house and back entrances. One of the agents knocked on the Alvarez front door. At the same time, Ian was trying his best to change their positions in bed in order to administer the injection.

At the front door of the Alvarez home, the armed security official was greeted by Christina. He explained to her their orders to find Peter Müller, but without providing any details. From the look of the men now congregated in front of her house, she knew Peter was in serious trouble. Christina in an effort to help her friend did not disclose her recent conversation with Peter and just told the officer she hadn’t seen him for a few days. The officer asked Christina if his men could take a quick look inside and around the house, though it was more of a demand. They quickly walked through the house and around the yard and reported back to their lead officer in front of the house who professionally thanked Christina for her assistance but added they may return for further questioning. Christina was now afraid for her own safety.

The security team knew Sylvia Rivera’s house was just around the corner and a few blocks up Pico street. The four of them decided to walk up the street versus taking their car since it was one-way and they would have to drive the car around several blocks to get there.

Sebastián was sitting in the car with Matias when he spotted the four men walking towards them several blocks away. He immediately recognized them as secret police. He now needed to warn Peter they were most likely on their way to Sylvia Rivera’s house. He exited the car and walked quickly hoping not to be noticed by the men in the distance. He headed towards the front yard just below the second-floor window of Sommer’s bedroom. Once he got there he would just yell at Ian to get out.

In the bedroom, Ian finally re-arranged their position of intimacy as he was now on Sommer’s backside. He started to reach into his pocket with his free hand. Just then, the phone on Sommer’s night table rang. “Peter, I have to answer this, it might be work.” She rolled over to picked up the phone’s handset. On the other end of the phone was Werner Klingemann, who though ordered not to call, felt it was best to warn his former Nazi friend. At the exact same moment, Sebastián could be heard from the outside yelling to Ian to get out of the house now. The police coming down the street thought they heard some yelling and quickened their pace. Sommer receiving Klingemann’s message turned towards Ian with panic on her face which then turned to a defensive rage as she started to fight herself free from Ian’s dominant position as he was still straddling her body.

Ian also felt panic as well as urgency. His decision-making ability was now impaired with an overdose of adrenalin. He knew if Sommer escaped she probably would never be found again and never tried for her crimes. His instinct took over, she had to be ‘stopped’ then and there. He reached down to the Seiko watch Damien had given him as a going away present, and pulled on the hidden ring underneath its case-back and drew out the sharp garrote wire. During his struggle with Sommer, he managed to place the wire around her neck and started to strangle her. There was a violent struggle, lamps and other bedside items came crashing to the floor. The couple in their struggle rolled onto the floor and then back onto the bed. The sharpness of the wire started to cut through her skin and sliced through her jugular veins, blood sprayed all over Ian’s face and upper body as her face turned blue from the lack of oxygen and her eyes were bulging out from their sockets.

Sebastián continued shouting from the outside. Thinking he wasn’t being heard he decided to break through the front door. Matias, sensing the trouble, drove his car in front of Sommer’s house still thinking they might be extracting the woman.  The police still a few blocks away saw the car pull up in front of Rivera’s house and started to run the remaining blocks.

Sebastián yelled for Ian inside the house and heard the noise from the second floor. He quickly ran to the bedroom and found Ian covered in blood over the limp body of Gertrude Sommer lying face down on the bed. He was stunned at what he saw and Ian seemed to be in a paralyzed state.

“Peter! We have to leave now, the police are coming, they are just down the street!” He went over to his deadened friend and picked him up off of Sommer’s body and quickly helped him put on his t-shirt and shoes, as Ian was in a transient catatonic state. Sebastián carefully supported him for the first few steps knowing the great significance of what had just happened and its psychological effect on his friend. But Ian’s self-preservation kicked in and he started quickening his pace eventually running with Sebastián, but then suddenly stopped dead in his tracks, awakened to his responsibility for documenting the event. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the small camera, rushed back to the blood-soaked bed, turned Gertrude Sommer onto her back and took several quick snapshots, all the same time Sebastián was yelling for them to leave.  Following the delay of precious seconds, they both quickly exited the room, jumped down the stairs and ran out the door to the waiting Matias.

The police were just forty meters away and had their pistols drawn shouting at the men to stop.  At the same time, Ian and Sebastián jumped into the car and Matias started making a rapid three-point turn so they could drive the other way down the one-way street. Just in the course of turning his car, several shots were fired, three bullets came through the windshield, one of which hit the jubilant soon-to-be-retired family man through the face, his head fell into the steering wheel as he crashed into a parked car. The police continued running towards them. Sebastián and Ian were able to exit the car and both started running away. The police opened fire again, but the speed, adrenaline, and youthfulness of Ian and Sebastián quickly allowed them to distance themselves from their pursuers. Many residents alerted by the disturbance had come out of their homes to the street preventing the officers from further firing their weapons.

Ian and Sebastián continued running and ironically ran past the ESMA prison. They eventually came to the Campo de Portes football fields and crossed the field in the midst of an early morning game.  The game momentarily paused as the players looked at the two men running, one of which was covered in blood. A minute later Ian and Sebastián were at the Arroyo Medrano inlet to the Rio de la Plata. Their pursuers were nowhere to be seen, but now they felt trapped, hunted and not sure what to do next.

Chapter 27

An emergency meeting of the Triple-A committee took place minutes after the report came in that Sylvia Rivera was found murdered.

Juan Carlos provided the update. “Gentlemen, our team came across Peter Müller and two associates in Nuñez this morning around 8:45 AM.  They were just fleeing the scene as our men tried to pursue them. But I’m afraid they were not captured. I’ll provide more details on this in a minute. We were also too late in preventing the murder of Sylvia Rivera. We found her slain in her bedroom. It was a pretty horrendous scene.”

Werner Klingemann abruptly interrupted. “Señor Rega, I have to tell you, I was on the phone with Sylvia just as she was being attacked by Müller. My apologies for not following your orders. I now firmly believe Müller is working for the Mossad and was here to execute Sylvia Rivera. You all know her by that name, but her real name is Gertrude Sommer. I know you have some vague understanding of her past. She had an eminent war record with the SS and held several high positions. As you know the Mossad is relentless in pursuing many innocent German officers after the war, just to please their thirst for revenge. We have to find Müller and all his associates and kill this Mossad cell.”

The Warlock responded. “I’m sorry for the loss of your friend Herr Klingemann, we will find Müller and anyone who has worked with him, and I promise you they will have preferred to end their own lives versus being in our hands.”

Juan Carlos continued his report. “Our men pursued Müller and his accomplices on foot, firing several shots at their car when they tried to escape. They killed the driver, who was identified as Matias Pérez. We are still trying to understand Pérez’s connection with Müller. After Pérez was shot, their car crashed into a parked car and both Müller and who we believe to be Sebastián Salazar fled by foot.  Salazar now makes sense as we just received word our plane and pilot where found at the civilian airport near Colonia del Sacramento. The pilot was drugged and all the prisoners may have escaped. We dispatched several teams to investigate. Unfortunately, one of our two men was beaten to death while the other is nowhere to be found and the pilot says he doesn’t really know what happened in the fuselage of the plane when they were in flight. He told us a foreigner, most likely a North American came into his cockpit and forced him at knifepoint to land at the Uruguayan airport. Once they landed he injected the pilot with a strong sedative knocking him out for several hours. We are speculating Müller was the mysterious 12th  person on-board based on the description from the pilot, and that Müller fought our two men and perhaps threw one of them out of the plane while in flight.

Just to finish up Señor Rega, we currently have several teams of police and military personnel in the Nuñez barrio and have put up roadblocks throughout the area. We even sent several naval boats to patrol the harbor and a search helicopter will be in-flight soon.”

Ian and Sebastián now found themselves on one side of a cement wall barrier adjacent to the inlet. A major roadway separated them from the main streets of the Nuñez barrio. Their side of the busy roadway was the Arroyo Medrano section of the harbor. Next to them a dock full of boats, perhaps offering them a way out. But then in the distance not far out in the harbor, they spotted several naval patrol boats with their blue lights flashing. Commandeering a boat for their escape didn’t seem possible. They started to hear police sirens in the distance and the traffic along the abutting highway started to slow down to a stop.

Sebastián started to take control as he noticed Ian was still deeply troubled by what he had just done. He just sat staring off into the distance. “Look, Ian, we need to do something, no? I think the police and military are putting up roadblocks now. We see this all the time when the traffic starts to slow down like this. Look, I see a pay phone near the dock over there. I’ll call a friend for help. In the meantime, you need to wash that blood off your body. It’s all over your face, neck, and arms. Just go down to the dock, it looks quiet there. I’ll make the phone call and be right back.” Sebastián helped escort Ian towards the dock and then quickly ran over to the pay phone hidden within the confines of the boatyard.

While approaching the phone booth he considered whom to call; it had to be someone trustworthy and also he needed to know their phone number. The person who immediately came to mind was Mario the owner/bartender from the Contramano cafe.

“Hello, Mario? This is Sebastián.”

“My dear Seb, so nice to hear from you. I can tell you, I don’t see any of your friends here yet, it’s way too early, we’re just serving breakfast.”

“No Mario, I have a problem and was hoping you can help me out. Actually, me and my friend Peter… you met him a few months ago. He’s the Canadian guy, remember?”

“Oh, yes, I remember him. But what trouble are you in and how can I help you guys?”

“You’re going to have to promise me you will keep all of this private.”

“Of course Seb, you can trust me, my friend, tell me what’s going on?”

“Well, Peter and I got in some trouble and the police are looking for us. Right now, we are hiding down by the docks at Arroyo Medrano next to Nuñez. It looks like they have roadblocks in place, so anything by car will be dangerous for us.”

“Ok Seb, I understand. Sounds like you guys need a better place to hide for a little while. I actually have a close friend who lives near those very docks, on the same side next to the water. Let me call him. I’ll tell him to go to your location and have him yell out the name Contramano’s so you can easily identify him. He is just a couple of minutes from your location. I’m sure he can find a place for you guys to stay in his building. If he doesn’t show up in fifteen minutes’ call me back and I will be thinking of another plan. Ok?”

“Ok, Mario, we greatly appreciate your help. Bye.”

Upon hanging up the phone Mario knew this was an excellent opportunity to gain favor with the new military regime. He placed a call to his government contact, Juan Carlos.

“Hello Juan, it’s Mario from Contramano’s. Are you guys still interested in Sebastián Salazar and his Canadian friend.” There was a long pause in the response from Juan Carlos.

“Yes, we are, we are currently looking for them. Why, do you have some information that could help us. If you do, it would be well rewarded.”

“I know exactly where they are. At this moment, they are waiting for my help down at the Arroyo Medrano piers in Nuñez.”

Juan Carlos immediately hung up the phone and ordered his dispatcher to update all his security teams in the Nuñez barrio as to the whereabouts of the two men.

Back at the pier, Ian and Sebastián heard a helicopter above and sought cover inside one of the moored boats. Inside the boat, Sebastián updated Ian on his call.

“Peter, good news. I talked with a close friend of mine whose friend lives in a building nearby. He’s going to ask this guy to bring us back to his place to hide out for a while. A good idea, no?”

Ian was slowly coming out of a deep remorse and started paying attention to their survival. He thought about what Sebastián just said; whether it was his training or even some paranoia, he didn’t trust the situation.

“Sebastián, who is this friend of yours? Does he know me? What does he do? Do you know his political views?”

“Peter, you actually meet him not too long after you arrived here. It’s Mario, who owns Contramano’s. That café bar we went to the night after the fight, he was bartending that night. I have known him for years. He’s a good guy. I trust him. He doesn’t care about politics.”

Ian remained quiet for a couple of minutes as his mind solely addressed Mario and his relationship with Sebastián. He thought back to when there were inquiries made on his personal records in Montreal, which seemed close to the time of meeting Mario. Though he originally thought the interest was initiated by the German ex-pats, he was now suspicious of Mario, though he had no evidence of the betrayal. His instinct didn’t trust the situation and felt they were especially vulnerable at the moment and started thinking of other alternatives.

The helicopter passed by to another section of the barrio making it safe to come out of the boat and back onto the grounds of the boatyard. Ian expressed his concerns about Mario which Sebastián immediately refuted.  Still apprehensive of their situation Ian made his way over to the main roadway to survey the scene. The roadway was now a standstill of cars bumper to bumper. He looked over towards the football fields they had run across earlier in their escape and in the distance, slowly coming towards them, were about twenty soldiers holding M16 rifles fanned out across the field.

“Sebastián! Soldiers are coming our way. We need to move now.” But there was really nowhere to go. The harbor was patrolled by several naval vessels, a helicopter hovered the area, and a semi-circle of armed soldiers were closing in on them. Their only choice was to hide inside the boats or in the water. But Ian could tell the soldiers were very systematic in their search and would eventually find them.

Ian and Sebastián were now desperate. Sebastián was suggesting a water getaway. Ian wasn’t listening as he was focused on an iron gate covering a pipe about one meter in diameter, all hidden under some vines down in a ditch about twenty meters away.

“Hey, over there, I think that’s a storm drain. Let’s try and see if we can remove that iron gate. These storm sewers can go for miles!”

They both crouched down and ran to the storm drain. They pulled on the bars of the iron gate which easily separated from the entrance to the pipe.  As if by divine intervention, Ian remembered the small flashlight Señor Carmona had given him earlier for contacting the boat at night. It seemed to have gone unnoticed in his large cargo pants side pocket, but when he reached down it was still there.

Together they entered the pipe but awkwardly had to remain crouched to fit inside. They carefully replaced the iron gate and the vines covering it. Ian turned on his flashlight and they quickly moved along the pipe. There was a little water inside and the pipe was fairly clean but the air was hot and the echoes of their voices created an eerie atmosphere.

Ian felt quite lucky seeing the storm drain and wondered how soon it would be uncovered by the soldiers. He did place extra vines over the gate hoping to buy more time.

“Sebastián, these storm drains usually take water out of the city to some connecting waterway.  We have to move fast, if they know we’re down here they can easily locate the openings and just wait for us.”

Occasionally they came across iron bar ladders leading from one pipe, down a few feet, connecting to another pipe. Or they came to a ninety-degree change in direction. The maze of connections greatly disoriented their sense of navigation as well as exercising any hints of claustrophobia they might harbor. The pipe would often decrease in its diameter becoming more difficult to traverse.

They were profusely sweating from the heat and exhausted with sore lower backs from walking in their crouched positions. Ian worried it might be miles before they came to an opening.

Outside, unbeknownst to Ian and Sebastián, a summer storm released a large downpour of rain for thirty minutes. Perhaps it was another intervention by God, but maybe this time it was to even the score for helping Ian find the storm drain and his flashlight. The intense rain immediately started to fill the storm drains which increased the danger of drowning.

Ian and Sebastián suddenly felt the pipe vibrant and could hear a distant roar. “Sebastián! Quick! We have to get out of here, move faster! I think that’s water coming!”

Within seconds the roar became louder and the pipe vibration more intense. A wall of water suddenly appeared, violently pushing Ian and Sebastián along at a high speed. Both were bouncing off the walls of the pipe and gasping for air. There was only a small space at the top of the pipe not filled with water and both men tried to raise their faces to that open area to breath. Sebastián was having a harder time and was taking in too much water. They traveled at a high speed for about five minutes, which seemed much longer when struggling for air. Sebastián was now drowning but just at the threshold between life and death, the water shot the two men out of the pipe into a shallow stream within a heavily wooded area.

Ian recovered from the abrupt landing but noticed Sebastián face down and not moving. Ian vaguely remembered some Red Cross training he received in school. He dragged Sebastián to dry land and turned Sebastián’s head to the side and saw water draining from his mouth and nose. Then turned his head back to center and began mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. He pinched Sebastián’s nose and gave four strong breathes into his mouth, and repeated two more times until he saw his chest start moving up and down.

Sebastián started coughing out more water, sat up and softly said, “Peter, I think you saved me again, no?”

“We’re ok Sebastián. I think we might be a couple of miles outside the city. Not exactly sure where we are, but I think we are safe here for now. Maybe when we walk around you’ll recognize the area.”

They started walking towards a clearing to see if they could get a bearing on their location. In the distance, they saw some office buildings.  They walked some more and came to what looked like a park. “Peter! This is the Costanera Sur Ecological Reserve! We are next to the Rio de la Plata. This is a popular nature reserve for people from the city to cool off. They have facilities here. We’ll probably start seeing people on the other side of these wetlands.”

They continued to walk and came across a snack bar. There were a couple of younger people seated at an umbrella covered table having an early lunch. Ian noticed the roadway in the distance with the traffic moving freely. He also looked up to scan the sky for any helicopters and saw and heard nothing. “Sebastián, I think we are outside their search perimeter. I see some taxicabs over there on the other side of the snack bar.  I think it might be safe to take one to our meeting place. What do you think?”

“Yes Peter, it makes sense, I don’t see any other way that would be safer at this point. Let’s go.”

The men grabbed a taxi and Sebastián knowing the exact location asked the driver to take them to Platanos which was a thirty-minute drive away.  The older driver didn’t engage the men in conversation and was just listening to his radio.  Ian and Sebastián were both physically drained and looked like they were dragged through a sewer pipe, but at last, they felt safe and could relax. The driver wasn’t suspicious of their appearance as he felt they may have just jumped into the water at the park on this hot summer day. Occasionally a police car would pass them, at which time they slouched down in their seats, but which was not noticed by the driver.

Half-way through their drive, a news bulletin came on the radio. It described two young men as armed and dangerous and to report to the police or military if seen. Ian didn’t quite catch what was said, but Sebastián did and saw the driver’s eyes darting back and forth in the rear-view mirror. The driver knew it was them as his eyes revealed fear and anxiousness. Sebastián then intervened. “Señor, it is us. We need you to follow our instructions and you won’t be hurt. Just continue to Platanos.” The driver just said yes, and continued driving in silence, occasionally looking into his rear-view mirror. He was fearful for his life.

Sebastián told Ian what just occurred and they discussed what to do next in a low voice. They decided once they got to Platanos, they could actually drive directly to the inlet. Once there, they could disable the car’s radio dispatch equipment and take the car keys. This would buy them time for their escape and at the same time release the driver intact.

During the last few minutes of the drive, Sebastián decided to talk with the driver. Whether it was out of guilt or justification, he tried to explain they were not the bad ones as the bulletin described. “Señor, it’s the military junta now in power killing people. They tried to kill us by throwing us out of a plane over the Rio de la Plata. You have to tell others. People who raise an objection to this regime are ‘disappearing’.” The driver acknowledged Sebastián’s testimony but did not engage in further conversation. He was the type of man who remained apolitical in a violent political environment just to survive.

They turned off the main road and went down the Camino Interno, which lead to the dead-end next to the inlet. They told the driver to exit the car and hand them the keys. Then they disabled the car’s radio dispatch unit. Sebastián spoke. “Señor, we apologize for inconveniencing you, but we are concerned for our safety as well, we hope you understand. We will leave you now unharmed. Please let your conscience guide you in your decision to go to the police.” Sebastián and Ian walked along the path to the inlet. They saw the boat still tied to the tree but Señor Carmona was nowhere to be seen. But just then, he came out from behind a tree. The men warmly embraced. Ian informed Señor Carmona that Matias was killed in their escape, to which all three men remained quiet for several seconds to honor their friend. Then Señor Carmona untied the rope for the boat. “Gentlemen, what do you say we get out of Argentina?”

Chapter 28

Just after 1 PM, the men pushed off from shore. Señor Carmona had some fishing gear aboard and suggested the men hold the rods to provide a cover. The boat itself, a Boston Wailer, a well know sports fishing vessel would strengthen their cover of a fishing trip amongst friends. There were also a couple of straw hats Señor Carmona handed Ian and Sebastián to help conceal their identities. No sooner had they left the inlet a C-130 Hercules four-engine turboprop surveillance plane dove low toward their boat. They all pretended to cast and reel in their lines. After the initial fly-by, the plane disappeared low over the land.

Just minutes later a naval patrol boat about two kilometers away was racing towards them. Señor Carmona was the first to notice. “Gentlemen, there is no way we can outrun them, if we go full throttle they will eventually catch us in international waters. But I doubt if they will follow any international laws. What do you want to do?”

Sebastián blurted out, “Let’s make a run for it and take our chances, maybe we can get close enough to Uruguayan waters for them to back off, no?”

Ian was quiet, as he played out in his mind various scenarios and their chances of succeeding. One option rose to the surface. “Guys, I have something to suggest. Based on the speed of that boat they should easily reach us before we get to Uruguayan waters. I can’t see them that well, but it looks like they are a crew of three or maybe four people, and I would guess they’re armed. But let’s make the assumption they are just coming to check us out, I don’t think the plane would have been able to ID us. So, if we continue to play our parts as friends on a fishing trip and remain relaxed, they should approach us without being too cautious.”

“Yes Peter, but once they see us and especially you, they will know who we are.”

“That’s right Sebastián, but what if we change the roles around. Instead of them being our pursuers, they become our rescuers?”

Sebastián looked confused. “I don’t understand Peter.”

“It’s a bit of psychological manipulation. Right now, their state of mind is, ‘let’s check out that group of men who might be the ones we are looking for’, but what if we create a situation where their state of mind is, ‘we need to rescue those fishermen’? We set the stage for them to rescue versus arrest us. And we do this by creating a diversion. We create a fire on board. I see a bunch of rags under the steering console. We douse them with some fuel and ignite them near the engine, but it’s a controlled fire, we won’t allow it to spread.  The other thing Sebastián, you and I need to take some of the engine axle grease and smear it over our faces, it will conceal our identities and make it appear we were trying to stop the fire and fix the engine.

When their boat comes next to ours, their rescue training will kick-in and suppress their initial suspicions. They will want to rescue us from a burning boat and will reach down to get us onboard their boat. Then I will immediately, with the help of you guys, overpower them and we commandeer their boat. I know you guys might not be the best-trained fighters, but if you can keep a couple of their crew busy, I’ll try and finish early with the other members of their crew and come back and help you two. I think this plan is our best bet. It has to work out. I don’t want to disappear like the others. What do you guys think?  We need to move fast.”

Both Sebastián and Señor Carmona could not think of any other solution and had faith in Ian as he has already proven himself several times as Sebastián could well attest. The two men looked at each other and nodded with Sebastián expressing the agreement. “Ok, Peter, let’s do it.”

The men cut the engine and remained still in the water as the patrol boat rapidly approached.  They placed the fuel-soaked rags in a large flat container they found onboard and Señor Carmona took his cigarette lighter and ignited the rags. The flames shot up into the air and were now very noticeable from a distance. The patrol boat put out an emergency siren indicating they were on their way. Perhaps an indication of a change in their mindset. Sebastián and Ian applied the axle grease from the engine to their faces and continued to wear their straw hats.

“Ok, Señor Carmona, when they come alongside our boat I’m sure the first thing they will want to do is pull us onboard their boat. You should go first, no offense, but you are an older man and will make us look needier and less threatening. Just try and act even older, pretend to have trouble boarding their boat so you can get as many of their crew to help you. Just before they arrive I will slide this fire underneath the engine, so it will really be on fire.  While they struggle to get you onboard, Sebastián and I will either be helped aboard by a crew member or we’ll jump on.  I hope given their rescue state of mind they will be holding fire extinguishers instead of guns and their guard will be down making it easier to overpower them. Ok, guys, let’s get ready they’re nearly here.”

As Ian predicted the Argentinian forty-five-foot ‘Response Boat-Medium’ pulled aside their Boston Wailer and prepared for a rescue. It had a four-man crew, two of which were holding fire extinguishers and the other two were reaching out to help Señor Carmona aboard their vessel. He played his role of an old man with physical limitations extremely well as he garnered lots of attention from the crew.

Three of the four crew members were older men in the late forties and fifties and one was younger in his early twenties. Ian could tell they physically were in no condition for hand to hand combat, yet he was still concerned they may easily access some weapon, so he remained cautious. The fire started raging out of control at the same time Ian and Sebastián jumped onboard the larger boat unnoticed. Two crew members were at the bow of the boat and started extinguishing the fire. The other two crew members were still occupied assisting Señor Carmona. Ian with the help of Sebastián struck quickly.

He came to the men assisting Señor Carmona, and temporarily stunned one of them with a simultaneous blow to both his ears and then threw him into the water. Sebastián and Señor Carmona over-powered the other man knocking him down to the floor of the boat. Ian jumped toward the stern grabbing on to a railing and flung his legs towards both men holding the fire extinguishers kicking them off the boat. Ian shouted to the others to throw the lone crew member still onboard into the water and asked Sebastián to tell the now overboard crew to get into the Boston Wailer.

The fire had been extinguished but the engine was now inoperable. Ian threw them several life preservers and took over the controls of the patrol boat. He was not familiar with such a high-powered boat and started mishandling its operation. Señor Carmona calmly came over and took control, the engines kicked in with the stern of the boat temporarily sinking down and the bow pointing towards the sky from the force of the engines trust. They quickly sped off towards Uruguay. Leaving in their wake the four crew members now onboard the Boston Wailer helplessly yelling obscenities as their former boat left them behind.

Ian, Sebastián and Señor Carmona briefly celebrated their naval boarding as they broke away from the scene. But suddenly became quiet, knowing they were still highly sought after fugitives. With a slight state of paranoia, they looked above for air patrols and out into the horizon for other boats in the vicinity. But it was all clear. Their newly acquired high powered boat would have them on Uruguayan soil soon.

Señor Carmona now comfortably at the wheel provided the rest of their escape plan. “Gentlemen, we will not go to the harbor at Colonia del Sacramento, even though Uruguay is distancing themselves from Argentine politics, the local police and customs men still take bribes and could cooperate in finding us. We will instead land at Ferrando Beach which is a few miles east of the harbor. From there we will beach the boat and get a taxi back to my place. Now go below and clean yourselves up, you should find some water and towels in their galley.”

After fifteen minutes at full throttle, they could see in the distance Ferrando Beach. It appeared to be quite active with a large number of beachgoers starting their weekend off early on this sunny hot Friday afternoon. Making a dramatic landing on the beach with an Argentinean naval vessel didn’t seem like the best idea for not drawing attention. But Señor Carmona was familiar with the area and knew there was a long river or canal called the Arroyo la Caballada at the far end of the beach, though he was not sure where it would eventually lead.

As they came straight towards the beach and were one kilometer away they turned and cruised parallel along the shoreline in an effort to be unnoticed. It seemed to work as the people in the water and on the beach hardly looked their way. Then they saw the opening to the small river, which was isolated from the beach crowd. Heading towards the mouth of the river they passed a couple of dinghies whose occupants were startled at the sight of an Argentinian naval vessel entering such a narrow waterway. Traveling along the river it continued to narrow but was still deep enough to support their vessel. It was a very quiet passage, lined with trees and a thick layer of bushes. They slowed down to a cautious speed. It seemed isolated with no signs of civilization except when they passed under a couple of roadways. They decided to continue as far as they could go before coming to some pier or grounding the vessel. About two miles along, the river suddenly turned into a stream and the boat sank into a muddy bank and came to a sudden stop.

The men jumped off the boat onto land and walked up a small hill to a clearing. “Ah, gentlemen. I know this area. That’s Anachauita street. Right on the corner, there is a grocery store. We can get a taxi there.”

Sebastián inquired about leaving the boat uncovered. Señor Carmona reassured him. “It’ll be fine. It’s actually a perfect spot. The forest and vegetation will conceal it. I don’t think it’ll be found for quite a while. Now gentlemen, let’s get out of here.”

That afternoon, back at The Warlock’s office another Triple-A meeting was in progress. Juan Carlos was providing the update. “I’m sorry to report we haven’t captured Peter Müller and Sebastián Salazar, yet. We lost them in the Nuñez barrio. We think they somehow took a small boat and evaded our water patrols. Just before this meeting, I received a report that one of our naval patrol boats came upon a small fishing boat in distress about five kilometers off our coastline. It turned out to be a ruse, and the men on the smaller boat overpowered our crew. We are pretty sure it was Müller and Salazar. There was a third man who was reported to be an elder. We don’t know who he is or how he’s connected to the two men. We think they may have taken him hostage back at the Nuñez pier and used his boat to get away. So, it now appears they’re making their way to Uruguay and probably have arrived by now.”

The Warlock’s face was contorted in anger. “I can’t believe these two got away, with all the Goddam resources we allocated to finding them. How are we going to get them now?”

Werner Klingemann spoke up. “I have a suggestion, Señor Rega. I know the government of Uruguay is trying to keep an official distance from our current politics, but that doesn’t stop their local officials from taking a bribe from a private party.  Please hear me out. I strongly feel Müller and Salazar will try to take a flight out of Montevideo as soon as possible. I’m not sure where they will be going, but I know it will be an international flight, and the only airport to accommodate such flights is the one at Carrasco servicing the Montevideo area.

I can send Helmut and a few other associates of mine to meet with their airport security and obtain their assistance in arresting these men. Müller and Salazar may be under the impression they are now safe in Uruguay, which may give them a false sense of security. Who knows, they may just stroll carefree into the airport like tourists. I have learned over the years not to discount the obvious.  I just ask you to provide some funds if you think this idea is worth a try. I can also dispatch some other men to the smaller airports in the area in case they attempt to connect to another international airport in our region. Your thoughts Señor?”

There was a pause in the room. “I like it Herr Klingemann. It might be our best bet given their whereabouts. Please arrange for the funds with Juan. I only ask that your men dispose of these two in Uruguay if you capture them.”

“That will be our pleasure, Señor Rega. Our men would look forward to dealing with them, especially as a way to give Sylvia some justice.”

Werner Klingemann looked over at his right-hand man Helmut and indicated he should initiate the plan as soon as possible. Helmut’s full name is Helmut Schmitt. During the war, he was a strongman for the Gestapo and served Klingemann. He was responsible for killing many people but the clandestine nature of his actions didn’t provide enough exposure for him to be identified as a war criminal. He was a fanatical Nazi, and still harbored a fervent patriotism to the Nazi ideals and homeland. The war had continued for Helmut Schmitt and any opportunity to defend the cause he gladly accepted even if it put him at risk of prison or death. If he had the opportunity at the airport, he would pull out his luger and shoot these men on the spot.

Back in Uruguay Señor Carmona had been able to secure a taxi and the men were now back in his store planning their escape out of South America.

Chapter 29

Señor Carmona asked Ian to come with him upstairs to his apartment. Entering the living room Ian saw a Short-Wave ham radio setup with a Morse-Code key much like the one he had in his apartment.  Together the men corresponded with the New York office and provided a detailed report of what had transpired over the last forty-eight hours. After the update, Ian asked New York for the following; a plan to safely exit the country and political asylum for his friend and colleague Sebastián.

New York informed Ian they would work out the details shortly and asked for Ian to stay close to the Short-Wave set for their instructions.

One hour later New York transmitted the plan. Ian and Sebastián will be transported in a turboprop-powered Rockwell Commander 685 civilian aircraft out of the local civilian airport serving Colonia del Sacramento.  The same airfield Ian rescued Sebastián and his fellow prisoners. The plane will have two identifying features, decals of the British and Uruguayan flags on the fuselage and the plane identification number CX1945 below the flags.

They scheduled the flight for 7 PM which was just a few hours away. It would be flown by another Mossad associate in Uruguay, Stan Cwynar. Stan was an ex-pat from Poland who flew with the prestigious No.303 Polish Fighter Squadron during World War II. They were renowned for their accomplishments during the Battle of Britain, though they composed a small percentage of all RAF and Allied pilots they were responsible for the largest percentage of enemy kills.  After the war, he signed up to work with the Mossad and was relocated to Uruguay to help with South American operations. At sixty-one years of age, he still possessed sharp piloting skills and enthusiasm for flying. Señor Carmona knew Stan and told Ian they would be in very good hands.

The Mossad in their counter-intuitive ways arranged the flight to go south rather than north, to the RAF airbase at Port Stanley on the Falkland Islands. They made arrangements with the British Secret Intelligence Service MI6 to manage their passage, which will include a military flight from the Falklands to the RCAF Airbase at Saint Hubért, Québec. MI6 secured a verbal agreement for Sebastián’s asylum status with the Canadian government, which will be formalized over the next twenty-four hours. All this in an exchange for an MI6 debriefing with Ian and Sebastián.

At this same time, Helmut Schmitt was now at the Montevideo International airport securing assistance from the local security officials in the capture of Peter Müller and Sebastián Salazar. He also had several colleagues go to three smaller airports capable of international flights and to a couple of select civilian airfields based on their proximity to the coastline, where their whereabouts was most probable. After making his arrangements with the officials at Montevideo, he and a colleague drove in the late afternoon to the airport near Colonia del Sacramento where the local police had recovered their plane and drugged pilot earlier in the day.  Helmut decided he and his colleague would remain at this location until the airport closed that evening.

Back at Señor Carmona’s store both men had cleaned themselves up, ate some food and had a change of clothes provided by their elder colleague.  Nurse Maria also paid a quick visit to redress the bandaging on Ian’s cut to his forearm and provided them with some pain medication. Ian also wrote a quick letter to his parents, which he asked Señor Carmona to mail at his earliest convenience. The letter simply read:

“Decided to leave early, all is well, will see you guys soon,

Love Ian”.

It was now 6:00 PM when Señor Carmona suggested they leave for the airport. He called a taxi thinking this might be the most innocuous means of transport for the men. The taxi came within a few minutes and the three men had an emotional round of good-byes. Ian expressed his gratitude. “Señor Carmona, we are so indebted to you for all the assistance you have given us, you really saved our lives. Thank you so much and I’ll let the Mossad know how important you were in our mission here.” With a long solid handshake with both hands, Señor Carmona jokingly said, “Come again for a vacation, you guys can stay with me, there’s a lot you haven’t seen yet.”

Sebastián and Ian now riding along in the taxi were just minutes away from the airfield at Colonia del Sacramento. Being a civilian airfield it lacked the security of the international airports. Boarding was a simple matter of walking through a set of unsecured doors to the tarmac and following the line markers to one’s plane. Which made them feel more confident knowing there wouldn’t be additional barriers to their escape.

About one hour before Ian and Sebastián arrived, Helmut Schmitt and his colleague parked their car in a large lot across a small road from the airport. They decided it offered the best clandestine view of the airport entrance and remained in the car carefully watching all the arriving traffic, which was not much for this small airport.  While discussing some operational details, Schmitt noticed two men exiting a taxi. He strained his eyes to discover it was Peter Müller and Sebastian Salazar about to enter the airport.

“There they are, let’s go!” As the pursuers walked quickly across the street, Schmitt gave the following order to his colleague. “We’ll follow them out to the tarmac, once there, we’ll shoot them at close range, and walk quickly, not run, back to our car. There’s no security presence here. It should be easy. In the airport let’s keep our distance. They won’t know we’re here until our lugers are placed on their backs.”

Ian and Sebastián were now making their way through the airport feeling more relaxed relative to their escape efforts earlier in the day. They were a few minutes early but thought their pilot was probably ready to go. “Sebastián, I have to hit the bathroom, why don’t you go to the plane and I’ll meet up with you. It’s just through those doors at the end of this hallway, then you’ll be on the tarmac.”  Ian then smiled, “I don’t expect you to remember based on the condition you were in the last time we were here. Oh, remember the plane has a British and Uruguayan flag with the plane ID CX1945 underneath it, there shouldn’t be too many of those out there.”  The men parted ways.

Just behind them, Helmut Schmitt turned to his colleague. “You continue to follow Salazar to the tarmac and shoot him before he gets to the plane and met me back at the car, I’ll finish off Müller in the bathroom.”

The bathroom was just off the main passageway in the terminal. There were a couple of small shops just outside its doorway. Schmitt decided a knife would be better to use than his loud luger. Entering the bathroom Schmitt noticed there were only a couple of sinks followed by a few urinals, and on the opposite side of the room were four stalls. The room was empty except for Ian who was now in the stall furthest from the entrance. Ian was just finishing and cleaning himself when he heard someone enter and turn the door latch which he perceived as locking the entrance door. He quickly pulled his pants up and his mind went through a variety of worst-case scenarios. He decided to remove his shoes and leave them on the floor and then wedged his body against the sides of the stall so he was off the ground and flush to one side opposite the door opening.

Schmitt, a considerably large man at one hundred and ninety centimeters and one hundred and thirteen kilograms had a hard time crouching down to see which stall Müller was in but got low enough to just see the bottom of his shoes.

He went to the sink and turned on the faucets to provide some background noise and slowly walked towards the stall with his knife extended. He came to the front of the stall door and paused a few seconds. Then with his large heavy leg, he kicked in the door. He was mentally prepared to thrust a knife into a man sitting on a toilet but Ian surprised him by springing from the inside stall panel managing to knock the knife from his hand.  Both were now struggling in the tight stall space. Schmitt’s size gave him the advantage in the confined quarters as it limited Ian’s fighting style. Both grappled and ferociously attempted to strangle one and other. Schmitt’s large hands were around Ian’s neck while Ian tried to unsuccessfully free himself with short sharp blows to various vulnerable areas on the large man’s body, but he seemed impervious to the strikes.

Ian knew he was running out of oxygen when he grabbed Schmitt’s tie and quickly twisted his body free of Schmitt’s grip and found himself the opposite side of the stall door from the large man. Ian firmly held his tie which was now cradled over the door thus strangling Schmitt on the other side. Ian, with all his strength and body weight, pulled down on his end of the tie and as he went closer to his side of the floor he could see Schmitt’s feet dangling underneath the other side of the door. There was a momentary tremendous amount of force being exerted by Schmitt on the other side with his arms flailing and his legs trying to push off the walls. Ian knew he had to hang on for his life. After several long seconds, the violent movements on the other side of the door started to subside and a slight gurgling could be heard. Ian continued holding on for another two minutes. Schmitt was now motionless and completely quiet. Ian released the tie and heard a large thump on the ground. He could barely get the door open to reposition Schmitt’s body. He thought it best to place the large man on the toilet and close the door to buy enough time for their escape.

He turned off the faucets, unlocked the door and exited into the main hallway of the terminal thinking there may be others to deal with in the terminal or on the tarmac. Ian preceded cautiously.

While Ian was in the bathroom, Sebastián had decided to stop at a small café inside the terminal near the door exiting to the tarmac. Ian could see him in the distance as he was finishing up his small café Chico and was leaving the café to exit the terminal, he also saw a man follow him through the doorway. Ian started running as fast as he could. Just as he got out the door he was only 10 meters behind the man trailing Sebastián. He wasn’t sure if this man was a threat or just an innocent passenger coincidently heading in the same direction.

They were now all walking toward the Rockwell Commander 685 aircraft with Stan Cwynar waving towards them. The man was still walking behind Sebastián as they were getting closer to Stan and his plane. Coincidence now turned into a threat. The noise from the nearby aircraft made it impossible to shout a warning. Suddenly, Ian saw the man following Sebastián take out a luger from his side pocket and quickened his pace to position himself closer to Sebastián. Ian with a burst of speed got within two meters of the man when he jumped onto his back immediately bringing him down to the tarmac. A shot was fired but it went harmlessly out into an empty runway. Ian knocked the pistol from the man’s hand and punched him several times in the head knocking him unconscious. Sebastián was completely oblivious to what just occurred behind him and was wondering why the pilot was frantically waving his arms and shouting. When he finally looked back he saw Ian straddling an unconscious man next to a pistol on the tarmac. It was yet another pursuer, and another time Ian had saved his life.

Stan and Sebastián rushed to provide assistance to Ian. But found Ian unshaken and relieved. He knew they soon would be on a plane bound for safety. Ian with a smile turned to Stan and Sebastián and simply said, “If you think this is bad you should see what I did in the bathroom.”

Stan got them onboard and taxied the plane to the runway. Minutes later they were at an altitude of twenty-five thousand feet and a cruising speed of four hundred kilometers per hour heading toward RAF Port Stanley on the Falkland Islands.

Several minutes after their takeoff, Schmitt’s colleague on the tarmac was assisted by a couple of ground-crew personnel, he became conscious and quickly staggered off from the men to see what happened to his colleague. Back in the terminal, he saw a large crowd gathered near the bathroom entrance. There were police officials waving people away. He waited to see if his partner was ok, perhaps beaten like he was. Standing a viewable distance from the scene he saw a stretcher brought into the bathroom and in a few minutes, Schmitt was carried out with a white sheet partially covering his large body. He quickly went to a local pay phone to report what had happened.

The Warlock called in his Triple-A committee for another emergency meeting. “Gentlemen, Herr Klingemann just informed me our fugitives have escaped Uruguay by plane. My condolences to you Herr Klingemann for the loss of your friend Helmut. Apparently, he was strangled. Your other colleague on the scene was also beaten and knocked unconscious, but immediately placed a call to you when he recovered which has enabled us to take some immediate security measures, which I’ll talk about shortly.

We do have some positive news from this event. Their pilot, perhaps by mistake or intentional, filed his flight plan to air traffic control. We were able to access this information. We’re not sure if this is a ‘red herring’, so their destination to the Falkland Islands is suspect. Though if true, it would be better for us, as they would be in our airspace or close to it. Our land-based radar stations down the coast indicate a small commercial plane on a course set to the Falklands. This may be them.

A few minutes ago, I issued an order to our airbase in Comodoro Rivadavia, which is not far away from the Falklands, to dispatch a Dagger A fighter to intercept this aircraft, with orders to force them to land at our airbase in Puerto Santo or back in Comodoro Rivadavia. If they fail to respond I have given the pilot the order to shoot them down. We have provided the pilot with the planes description and identification markings so hopefully, he’ll use good judgment in his use of force.

Ian, Sebastián, and Stan Cwynar were now fairly comfortable as they were approaching the half-way mark, just another eight hundred kilometers until they reached RAF Port Stanley. They were exchanging stories when Stan noticed a faint blimp on his radar screen. He immediately reacted. “I think the Argentines have sent a fighter jet after us!” Stan’s many years of experience suddenly emerged in handling the situation. “You guys please strap yourselves into your seats. I’ll be taking some evasive actions.”

Stan got on the radio. “RAF Port Stanley this is Charlie X-ray One-Nine-Four-Five, please come in over.”

“Charlie X-ray One-Nine-Four-Five this is RAF Port Stanley, how goes it? Over.”

“Roger that, we are about eight hundred kilometers from RAF Port Stanley and I have detected a possible hostile fighter bearing down on us, over.”

The conversation continued with Stan providing their current coordinates and flight path, but indicated he would be taking evasive actions soon, which would bring the plane below radar along the southern coastline of Argentina. RAF Port Stanley responded by saying they would dispatch fighters to intercept the ‘hostile’ and suggested Stan try to continue low along the coastline to the port town of Rio Gallegos and then fly directly east to RAF Port Stanley, essentially laying a trap for the Argentine fighter.

Stan could tell from his radar display the fighter was closing in on them fast. “I’m taking us down very low along the water and to the coastline, I hope to get off the radar screens of the fighter behind us and their land stations. Hold on!”

Stan dove sharply down to within a few hundred feet above the water. His adept handling of the plane brought some confidence to Ian and Sebastián. Their fate now lay in the hands of someone else and based on their emotional exhaustion, they were grateful it was a highly decorated sixty-one-year-old World War II fighter pilot.

Just after Stan’s radio contact with RAF Port Stanley, Group Captain Gordie McClellan scrambled two Tornado F3’s to intercept the Argentine fighter.  Though they had lost radar status on Stan’s plane, they knew he would be hugging low along the coast heading south and hopefully follow their suggested route.

Stan could see the approaching shoreline of Argentina in the distance and in minutes he started following the contours of the land. He flew at a dangerously low altitude of a few hundred feet. They came to the town of Puerto Deseado in the Santa Cruz province of Argentina and surprised many of the townsfolk as he flew just above their homes.

They finally arrived at the port town of Rio Gallegos. Stan sensed the Argentine pilot lost track of them both visually and on his radar. It was now time for them to fly directly east to the Falklands crossing the South Atlantic. He flew the plane back to a higher altitude exposing their position, hoping the Tornadoes would see them before the Argentines.

They were now less than four hundred kilometers from Port Stanley when the Argentine Dagger A fighter jet found them and did an aggressive fly by. He came by a second time reducing his airspeed and visually signaled to Stan to go back to Argentina to land. Stan decided to buy some time for the Tornadoes, so he continued his path to the Falklands anticipating one more or at the most two more warnings before the Argentine pilot would shoot them down.

The Argentine pilot angrily gave the third warning and Stan had no option but to turn and proceed back to Argentina with his lethal escort. But he slowed his airspeed considerably hoping it might allow the Tornadoes time to find them. This irritated the Argentinian pilot, but he had no orders covering such a purposeful procrastination. Stan also had a backup plan if the Tornadoes failed to find them; he would try and lose the fighter once over Argentina by again getting close to the contours of the land and dangerously close to inhabited areas. The Dagger A would have a difficult time maneuvering in such tight urban and geographically compromising terrains and hopefully, have to revert back to its airbase. Then depending on his remaining fuel, they could try and make a break for RAF Cape Stanley or attempt a landing in the closer bordering area of Patagonia, Chile.

They were forty kilometers away from Argentina when the Dagger A pilot received a radar alert that his plane had been ‘locked’ onto by rapidly approaching aircraft. The pilot chose to hold off any aggressive or evasive actions until he knew their intentions. He radioed his base to see if they had identified the craft but received no answer.

Moments later coming out from the sun, two Tornado F3’s roared towards The Argentine Dagger A and fired four warning flares at the aircraft.  The heavily armed Tornadoes had AIM-9J Sidewinder missiles and two twenty-seven mm Mauser BK-27 revolver cannons. The Argentine pilot was caught completely off guard by this show of strength and immediately veered off to the north, returning back to his base at Comodoro Rivadavia.

Stan, Ian and Sebastián gave a cheer and enthusiastically waved at the Tornado pilots who gave them the ‘thumbs up’. One of the Tornado pilots came on Stan’s radio frequency and provided instructions. All three planes turned in synchronization back east and continued on to RAF Cape Stanley.  Ian and Sebastián expressed their gratitude to Stan and then the group remained silent for the rest of the trip succumbing to the stress and exhaustion from their survival efforts over the last couple of days.

At approximately 9:30 PM all three planes landed at RAF Cape Stanley. Ian, Sebastián, and Stan gave a collective sigh of relief as they taxied to their gate. The two RAF pilots came over to the men for an enthusiastic reception. The pilots then provided escort to Group Captain Gordie McClellan’s office. After introductions, the Group Captain brought Ian to the debriefing quarters, where he was introduced to a member of MI6. The meeting also included Mossad Director, Yitzhak Hofi and the Head of Mossad Field Operations, Damien Kaczmarek, both joined remotely via a secured KY-3 Wide-band voice encryption system.

Over the course of three hours, Ian disseminated all the details about his mission. How he became close to the German ex-pat community which eventually led to his relationship with Gertrude Sommer. He also identified other Nazi’s who may have escaped justice, those being the former Gestapo Officer Werner Klingemann and his deceased associate Helmut, whom he didn’t know his last name but provided a detailed description.

He also discussed the political and ideological intersection of these former Nazi’s with the current military regime now in power and the crimes currently being committed. He relived for them their harrowing escapes and confessed he had individually killed three people, two in self-defense, one of them being the aforementioned Helmet, and the third in cold blood, that of the wanted war criminal Gertrude Sommer. Ian tried to explain what lead him to kill Sommer, but broke down and cried not being able to accept the fact he took a human life, even one of a murderous Nazi.

Before the meeting ended, Ian reached into his cargo pants pocket and pulled out his Minox BL camera and informed the group it had pictures of a dead Gertrude Sommer. He hoped the film was not destroyed by the events of the last two days. The MI6 officer, with the permission of the Mossad, took the camera for film developing. The results would be sent to both the Mossad and MI6 headquarters.

Mossad’s Director, Yitzhak Hofi broke in on the call and congratulated Ian but used his alias Peter to ensure his secrecy, even from MI6 and the others in the room. Damien also provided his congratulations and good wishes.

The debriefing took several tea breaks and Group Captain McClellan offered Ian some fine Scottish Single Malt Whisky from the island of Islay. Food was brought in and all the men relaxed and discussed the logistics of the next couple of days. It was decided that Ian and Sebastián would be flown by RAF Transport Command to the RCAF airbase at Saint Hubert, Québec on Monday morning. They would be passengers aboard a Vickers VC10, a mid-sized, long-range jetliner, capable of long transatlantic flights. Accompanying them on the flight would be a small platoon of British soldiers whose six-month tour of duty with the islands Garrison was completed and would be returning to England.

Stan Cwynar’s return to Uruguay would be delayed until MI6 and Mossad officials could ensure his safety. There was a concern of retribution by the Argentine government. Should the security organizations sense peril he will be offered a relocation package anywhere in the United Kingdom or Israel. The safety of Señor Carmona would also be verified, local associates had been dispatched to his residence and would be keeping eyes on him for the next few days.

Late that evening, Ian, Sebastián, and Stan were provided officers’ quarters on the base. They slept well into the late morning the next day. Ian was still psychologically wrestling with what he had done and remained quiet and introspective for the rest of the weekend. Meanwhile, Sebastián was handling his prior near-death experiences in a different way, he walked around the town of Stanley and enjoyed seeing the very British red phone booths and mailboxes located throughout the town and enjoyed hearing the English accents of the locals. He admired the ocean views and the transatlantic penguins swimming nearby. Eventually, he walked into the small-town center finding a diner for some coffee. Though not far from Argentina, he felt a World away and wondered what life would be like for him in Canada. He had never traveled outside Argentina and would be leaving his Mother Mia and many friends behind. He started feeling a sense of loneliness but was also excited to engage the new life ahead of him.

Arrangements were made for both men to call their family and friends prior to their departure. Based on the sensitive nature of what they experienced they were requested to keep things ‘simple’ in their conversation and to try to converse in a ‘normal’ fashion. Sebastián had to inform his Mother he would be going away for a while. It was an emotional call.

At 7 AM Monday morning both Ian and Sebastián had a large breakfast at the officer’s mess hall and two hours later boarded the RAF Transport Vickers VC10. It was a thirteen-hour flight to Québec. While onboard, Ian and Sebastián spent most of their time talking with the British soldiers, Sebastián even flirted with a few, exhibiting a sign of some normalcy in his behavior.

They finally entered Canadian airspace and slowly descended towards Montreal. Looking out their window as they passed over the city Ian excitedly pointed out to Sebastián and some of the soldiers, the lighted Crucifix on top of Mont Royal, as well as identifying the bridges, waterways and other significant landmarks. He mentioned to Sebastián his home was not too far from the Crucifix. A couple of minutes later they softly landed at RCAF Saint Hubert to a round of applause by all those onboard. The airbase was located just minutes outside Montreal across the Saint Lawrence Seaway, Ian looked forward to seeing his parents but felt conflicted about not being able to share with them his real experiences in Argentina.

In the moments while the plane taxied, Ian reflected over the past year and thought about how his life had changed so dramatically. He was still deeply affected by his actions and hoped that over time he would better understand and perhaps even appreciate his contribution to balancing the scales of justice.

 

Part 4 – A Vocation

“Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere.”

Martin Luther King, Jr.

 

Chapter 30

Ian got home in the early morning hours and Hatty briefly greeted him with a warm embrace before returning to bed. Later in the morning, she prepared a grand breakfast for Ian’s first day back home. Hatty and André both took the day off work and waited for Ian at the table drinking their Earl Grey tea.

It was 10 AM when Ian entered the kitchen area still groggy from his flight and the physical demands of the last several days. Immediately his parents got up and hugged him together and then his mother noticed the sutures still in his forearm.

“Ian, how did you cut yourself? That looks like a bad wound.”

“Yeah, I caught it on a sharp edge of a door latch a few days ago. I’m ok. I think the stitches should be taken out soon.” Quickly changing the subject. “It’s great to see you guys, I missed you and sorry for not being a good letter writer.”

André came face to face with Ian having a concerned look on his face. “Ian, we were worried for you after we saw the military takeover on the evening news. Is it as bad as they say it is?”

Ian felt he could at least disclose the truth about the politics. “Yeah, the military is running the show down there. They have a very strong and intimidating presence. They’ll arrest any opposition without due-process, under the excuse of a communist threat. Kind of similar to Hitler’s Fascist party rounding up the Communist opposition in the early days of his reign. People are also ‘disappearing’. I have heard rumors, apart from the intense interrogations and torture, they drug their prisoners and fly them out to sea dumping their bodies into the ocean. I see Henry Kissinger gave the US blessing on their takeover, giving their new government some legitimacy, which really makes me mad. I think it will be a while before democracy comes back to Argentina.”

Hatty tried to change the subject. “Well, what was life like in Argentina for you? Did you make friends, girlfriends? How was your experience? Did you learn anything?” Ian took a long pause, still at odds with offering the fictional version versus the truth.

“It was overall a good experience. I did make some friends and learned a lot about how they live. The people are generally really nice, polite and helpful. Lots of Europeans live there and even a lot of ex-pats from Germany. Oh, and I did meet a girl or two.” Ian said with a wry smile.

André surprised Ian with his next question. “Did you come across any Nazi’s while there?”

Ian paused again. “Ah, no Dad, not really, though I might have met some without knowing who they really were. If they were there, they hid it pretty well. I think it’s safe to say the Nazi hunters are slowly rounding them up.”

“Hmm, I not sure about that Ian. Some of my ex-military Intelligence friends seem to think many are living pretty good lives under the protection of their harboring countries. But I hope they are all eventually rounded up. I still have trouble comprehending what they did in their concentration and extermination camps.”

Back in Tel Aviv, Mossad Director Hofi held a retrospective meeting on the Gertrude Sommer case. Damien Kaczmarek was present along with the Operations staff. Director Hofi addressed the group. “Ladies and Gentlemen. Damien and I would like to announce that the longtime wanted Nazi Gertrude Sommer can now be taken off our ‘Hunt list’.” Damien removed from a dossier several eight by ten photographs of a strangled Gertrude Sommer lying on a heavily bloodstained bed, the copies were passed around the table. He also handed out photographs taken of her during the 1940’s for comparison, though her recent state in appearance made it difficult to see the similarity.

Hofi continued. “You can see she tried altering her appearance. Shorter hair, dyed dark brown and went by the alias, Sylvia Rivera. I can’t provide too many details from the operation but our field agent discovered her working with the current military regime and was participating in their dirty work of interrogations and torture. I guess the saying is true, a leopard can’t change its spots.

Myself, Damien and our Prime Minister Yitzhak Rabin had a discussion yesterday about releasing this information to the Worldwide press. Basically, sending a message to the people who suffered under the Nazis that we have not forgotten, and to the Nazis still at large that their crimes have not been forgotten and they will always be pursued. Today we plan to release this information anonymously, I’m sure the World will assume Israel was behind her death and that’s ok, we like to keep them guessing. We will also provide photographic proof of her relationship with the current military regime in Argentina and additional evidence linking her to their crimes.”

Two days later Ian’s Dad excitingly yelled for him to come downstairs and see the morning paper. “Ian! I think you’re right, these Nazis are being captured or in this case, killed. Do you remember our chat about Bergen-Belsen and the Nazi who escaped punishment, Gertrude Sommer? Apparently, last week she was found murdered in Buenos Aires. It says she was still committing crimes similar to her actions in the concentration camps with the Argentina military regime now in power. The press would not release the photographs as they were deemed too gruesome but say she was found strangled in bed, that a wire was used, which nearly decapitated her. Wow, you have to hand it to the Israelis, just like the RCMP, they ‘always get their man’, in this case, a woman. I’m so happy they found her and brought justice to all those lives she had taken and families she had destroyed. She was one evil woman. You know, we spent a lot of time looking for her after we liberated Bergen-Belsen. I bet she was living a pretty good life down there and didn’t know what ‘hit her’. What do you think Ian?”

Ian remained quiet for a moment, conflicted between taking a human life, bringing justice to many and wanting to tell his father he was the one who did it. He managed a feigned response.  “Wow Dad, that’s great news. I remember that documentary we watched and how much suffering took place in that camp. Sounds like she was a big part of it, so I’m glad she met justice.”

His parents left to run some errands. Ian got another cup of Earl Grey tea with honey and milk and sat down at the kitchen table and continued reading The Count of Monte Cristo, he was getting to his favorite part when Edmond Dantés’ plans of revenge were coming to fruition. He reflected for a moment, thinking that Alexandre Dumas, the author of the book, had a hand in saving his life and also that of Sebastián. He silently gave thanks to the author.

A few minutes later Ian could hear the Postman dropping mail through the door slot. Ian went over to pick it up and noticed a letter addressed to him from The Word bookshop on Rue Milton. He immediately opened the letter, it read,

“Dear Mr.Richard,

The material you ordered has arrived. Please come by The Word at your earliest convenience.

Meilleurs Voeux

-The Manager”.

Ian got dressed to go to The Word, but this time he decided to walk versus taking that old Raleigh bike which was still in the garage. He felt it was too dangerous riding in Montreal traffic these days.

Ian entered The Word in the late morning, it was nearly empty with the exception of a couple of people browsing the shelves.  Coming out from the back-room Noah excitedly waved to Ian and came over and shook his hand. “Great to see you. Let me get that information you requested, I’ll be right back”.

Noah came back with a large manila envelope which he handed to Ian. They shook hands and Ian was just about to go out the door when he stopped and came back to Noah. “Could I ask you to relay a note back to the ‘publisher’?”

“Sure, I can get the note to them very quickly,” Ian asked for pen and paper and wrote the following message.

“Please send me a copy of one of the photographs I took which showed a list of names. I will destroy it within a few days. Also, please send me the address of Sophia Ramirez.

Thank you, -Raguel.”

Ian didn’t think they would release the photograph or address information but thought it didn’t hurt to try.

He left The Word and decided to walk to St. Louis Square and sit on the same bench he and Damien had met many times. When he sat down, he scanned his surroundings remembering the first test he failed when he didn’t notice he was being followed, he smiled, thinking how his training was now so deeply ingrained.  He opened the envelope and found a letter addressed to him from Damien, which read;

“April 5th

Dear Ian,

I hope you’re well and now enjoying your time back home with your family and friends.

All of us here in Israel and Jewish people throughout the World have a profound gratitude for your service, albeit you remain anonymous, I hope you will feel you made a great impact in this World by serving justice when there was a great possibility of it not happening.

I remember when we first met and I was asking you why you wanted to do this and I remember you saying you wanted to make a difference in this life and to serve and sacrifice just like your parents did in World War II. Well, I have to say you did this all most admirably and I know your parents would be extremely proud of you for your service. Though I know they are extremely proud of you for who you are even without knowing your secret.  Which I can’t stress enough, you must make sure it remains a secret.

Ian, I am well aware you went through quite an overwhelming ordeal especially given your age. It will take a while for you to recover, and feel back to ‘normal’. As part of the operation exit process, we will be sending over to Montreal one of our staff psychologists whom we would like you to meet. You can talk with this person about any detail, they maintain our highest security clearance. Our associate at The Word will communicate the contact information when this person arrives in Montreal.

I also want to offer you my gratitude and admiration for what you have done. It meant a lot to me as I had some personal connections I haven’t been able to disclose to you. Maybe one day I will.

Finally, the government of Israel has offered you a small financial token of appreciation. Please go and check the balance of your Bank of Montreal account. We actually had the statements sent to a P.O. Box in Montreal which we will be giving you access to via our friend at The Word. Just to let you know we have also compensated all your associates in this endeavor and have taken care of those who have fallen and their families.

Again, please accept our most profound gratitude and I hope one day our paths will cross again. Until the next time we meet, I wish you a great life.

Sincerely yours,

Damien”

After reading the letter a couple of times, Ian paused and reflected for several minutes. The letter did help him feel a bit better about some of his actions, though he still felt in a state of chronic anxiety and sometimes it switched to a feeling of depression. All emotions he never felt before. He thought talking with their psychologist might help and started looking forward to the meeting.

He got up from the bench and started walking towards downtown to the main branch of the Bank of Montreal. It was a beautiful Spring day in Montreal with an unusually warm temperature of twenty-three Celsius. He was casually dressed in jeans, Doc Marten oxblood colored shoes, a t-shirt, and spring jacket, topped off with his favorite black béret his folks bought him when visiting Oloron Sainte Marie, France.

Ian entered the main branch at 119 Rue St Jacques and waited in line to see a teller. Ten minutes later he approached the teller window. The young attractive female teller, about Ian’s age, smiled at Ian, which he enjoyed. He provided her with his identification and requested a balance of his Angel Fund account. The young teller clicked away on her terminal for several seconds, stopped and then her eyes widened. “Mr. Richard, would you like me to print out a summary of your account or write the balance on a piece of paper?”

“Paper is fine, Merci beaucoup.”

She smiled and handed him the folded paper. “Au revoir Monsieur Richard.”

Ian stepped away to an empty counter area and unfolded the paper. The teller had written ‘$500,000.00 CAD’. Ian was astonished by the amount. The most he ever had in his bank account was a couple of hundred dollars. That moment made Ian immediately start thinking about what next he had to do in his life and how best to use this money. He walked back home to Westmount feeling empowered by this financial assistance, but his anxiety was still felt.

The next week Ian received the contact information for the visiting psychologist. Dr. Josef Klein was staying at the Queen Elisabeth Hotel at 900, boulevard Dorchester Ouest in room 1742. Ian called the psychologist for a time to meet.

Wednesday at 2 PM in the afternoon Ian came to his room.

“Hello Ian, so nice to meet you, please come in.”

After the initial greetings, Ian sat on a couch next to the window with a view overlooking the tall buildings along boulevard Dorchester Ouest. Josef Klein sat opposite Ian on a chair.

“So Ian, I know you have been through a lot over the last several months. I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind providing me with your whole story on how you got to work with us in Argentina. I would also like to perhaps first start with your family and your relationships.”

For the next hour, Ian described his history and how he came about his revelation on wanting to find Gertrude Sommer. He proceeded into all the details; the fights, the escapes, things he saw, friends hurt and killed. At several points it was hard for him to continue talking as he would start to cry and would need a few minutes to recover. He went on to describe his current feelings and how he was experiencing chronic anxiety and insomnia.

The psychologist asked Ian if he could come by every day at the same time for the next week. He agreed.

During the subsequent sessions, Dr. Klein started teaching Ian several behavioral methods in dealing with his chronic anxiety. It was all centered on the basic psychological principle of acceptance. Accepting the way he feels anxious as something very normal for him. That acceptance will break his chronic anxiety cycle, the more he accepts the feeling as being normal for himself, the anxiety will slowly melt away. He explained to Ian that he created a cycle of anxiety because the feeling was new to him and he was afraid of feeling this way which then produced more anxiety or second fear. He also explained that his deeply introspective thinking made him feel slightly detached from the World around him like he was in a dream. This revelation greatly helped Ian understand himself and his anxiety.

At the end of their last session, Dr. Klein gave Ian a book which he has given to many field operations people coming back from their missions. The book was written by an Australian Psychiatrist Dr. Claire Weekes, entitled Peace from Nervous Suffering. It offered the basis of this behavioral technique.

As the weeks turned into months, Ian responded well to the new way of thinking and his chronic anxiety did melt away as well as his insomnia which he applied the same technique. He was feeling more himself and now accepted what he did as something very important and meaningful. Something he now took pride in as an accomplishment in his life.

Ian started getting back into life. Seeing his old friends. Playing some pick-up ice hockey and thinking about going to University.

Towards the end of June, he received another notice from The Word, that his ‘book’ has arrived.  It was a photocopy of the list of names he found at Gertrude Sommer’s home. Also, included was the address of Sophia Ramirez, but whose real name as we know is Janet Rodriguez. Ian decided to visit her the next day.

She and her mother were living in an apartment building at Rue Savignac, which was off of Rue St. Denis. Ian decided to visit her in the early evening hoping she would be home. It was a warm summer evening when he rang apartment 1004. The familiar voice of Janet answered.

“Hi Janet, it’s Ian.” There was a long pause and then the buzzer sounded unlocking the door. Ian rather than taking the elevator took the stairs to the 10th floor, taking all opportunities to keep in shape.

Janet received him at the door. She looked much the same, still with her beautiful eyes and welcoming smile. They embraced for a prolonged period of silence.

“It’s so good to see you, Janet. I’ve had quite a journey since we were last together. Unfortunately, I can’t tell you too much. But I do have something important to share with you.”

“I was thinking of you Peter and how things were going for you. I’m glad you got home in one piece. Please come in, my mother is out with friends. Something to share with me eh? Sounds interesting. But let me first make us some tea, Earl Grey, right?”

Janet brought out some tea and biscuits and they sat down on the couch. She provided an update on all the things that have happened to her over the last several months and mentioned she was still doing ‘contract’ work with the Mossad.  Ian gave Janet a very vague idea of his life over the same time period.

“Well, I was off in another country just doing some research. It was interesting. I meet some very nice people and some not so nice people. But I’m glad to be home. Janet without getting into the details I have something to show you. Please feel free to share this information with your mother, but please don’t mention the item I will be showing you or anything about me or the Mossad to anybody else, ok?”

“Ok Peter, you’re now making me nervous, what is it?”

Peter reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper. He opened it up and handed it to Janet.

“Janet, in the course of my research I came across this artifact. Please read the names.”

Janet read for just a few seconds when she saw her father’s name, Bruno Rodriguez.

“It’s my father’s name! What does this mean Peter?”

“This is hard for me to tell you, but the list you have is a ‘hit list’ of individuals the military had arrested and taken in for questioning, really to interrogate and torture, then they were killed. I’m so sorry Janet, but I know for you and your mother there were no answers, he just disappeared one day. This document is proof of what happened and the Mossad has told me they will be submitting it as evidence to the World Court. It will be kept as a record of their crimes and used in prosecuting those responsible for the military regime’s crimes against the people of Argentina.”

Ian could see tears slowly rolling down Janet’s face. He slowly placed his arms around her with a hug of support and comfort.

“Thank you, Peter, I appreciate you thinking of me and showing me this document. It means a great deal to me to know what happened to him. My mother will also be very grateful. Sorry about the crying.”

They talked for another hour when Ian decided it was time to leave, they embraced at the door and said their goodbyes with a gentle kiss.

At the time he got Janet’s address from the Mossad he also secured Sebastián’s phone number and arranged to meet him for luncheon at Ben’s delicatessen on Maisonneuve. It had been a few months since they were last together. Ian was waiting outside the entrance when he saw Sebastián walking towards him along Maisonneuve looking stylish, sporting a nicely shaped beard and his dark black hair down to his shoulders.  He wore a striking cobalt blue blazer with a crimson red pocket square and blue jean bell-bottoms.

Sebastián was very enthusiastic about seeing his old friend. “Peter! My Peter! So, nice to be together again, no?”

“Wow, Sebastián, you look like you’re living well. Nice clothes. You also look like you might have gained a little weight?”

Sebastián laughed “Mais oui, Pierre! the food is too good here. Especially these smoked-meat sandwiches here at Ben’s.”

They were seated at a table beneath framed photographs of several Montreal Canadién hockey players. A jovial waiter came to take their order and ridiculed Ian for ordering a lean smoked meat sandwich. “Monsieur, the only way to eat a smoked-meat sandwich is fatty.” After the waiter took their orders Sebastián started to tell Ian all about his new life.

“Peter, life is good here. I really love Montreal. My apartment is over on Rue de Bullion near Chinatown, it’s great. Peter, the money I received from the Mossad has really made a difference in my life. I can afford a decent place to live, some nice clothes and I hope to be flying my mother here in a few months. I’m also taking French classes, provided by the Québec government for free and just applied to a graduate program at Concordia University in Applied Linguistics. The Mossad had asked if I wanted to work as a ‘contractor’ for them here in Montreal, but I decided I had enough adventure and wanted to pursue a more ‘normal’ life. How about you my dear friend? Oh, I also met a great guy here, Yvon, he works as a pastry chef, probably another reason for my weight gain no?” They both laughed.

Ian provided Sebastián with an update and even revealed getting help for his chronic anxiety. He also talked about going back to University and doing some traveling. They agreed to keep in touch.

Chapter 31

During the last half of the summer, Ian submitted a formal application to McGill University for admittance to the Faculty of Electrical Engineering. McGill suggested he audit a few courses in the Fall semester which he could apply towards his matriculation if accepted into the program for the Spring semester.

He was trying to get his life back on a normal schedule. He even arranged a meeting with the McGill hockey coach to discuss his possible participation if he becomes an official student. The coach was enthusiastic as he knew Ian’s background and value as a hockey player and suggested he participate in their training camp and even practice with the team until he could officially play.

Ian started his classes in September, taking Linear Algebra and Geometry, Calculus 1 and Mechanics and Waves. He also suited up again and participated in the ice hockey team’s training camp. But he had problems with both. Academically, he found it hard to concentrate or even find any interest in his classes. Which concerned him as he didn’t want a career where it felt meaningless to him or something he would end up being mediocre doing. He made a few friends and even dated several girls on campus but found a deep divide between them in what they found important and their interests and awareness of the World. They were all very nice people but he started to feel he was in the wrong place, perhaps at the wrong time in his life.

Even on the ice, he seemed to lack the ‘killer instinct’ which made him excel in his sport. He felt like he was just going through the motions in practice, but his heart and passion were missing.

The lack of academic interest and passion in his sport concerned him deeply. What would he do with his life? He had too many questions he couldn’t answer. One afternoon while walking through the Student Union he noticed an abundant amount of advertisements on the bulletin board about studying abroad which caught his interest. Not the study part, but just the abroad part.  One of the ads showed students in Edinburgh, Scotland; this immediately became his focus of attention as a mystical and medieval place to answer some of his questions and to help him focus on his future direction.

Not half-way through the Fall semester, Ian approached his parents and broached the idea of living in Edinburgh for a few months. They were still ‘recovering’ from worrying about him in Argentina and concerned for his career direction, getting their approval would be a tough sell. But he framed it as another educational and personal growth experience. That he would get a part-time job and take some courses at the University of Edinburgh. They cautiously accepted his plan and felt at least Edinburgh was a safe place. Hatty also liked the idea that Ian could take a short trip to Belfast to visit his aunt and cousins.

They were, of course, unaware of his new financial status, and offered to pay for his flight, which he declined saying he had some money saved from teaching English in Argentina.

In his preparation for leaving, Ian went by The Word and left his forwarding address in Edinburgh with Noah. At the time, he wasn’t sure why he did this as he wasn’t desiring a continued relationship with the Mossad, perhaps unconsciously he was.

After New Year’s, Ian boarded a British Airways flight to Edinburgh via London. He arrived around 7:30 AM but he immediately noticed it was still dark outside. He didn’t realize Edinburgh was several degrees of latitude greater than Montreal. Which was very evident once it became dark just after 3 PM. The weather was not as cold as Montreal, but the constant drizzle in the air and cool temperatures had a bone-chilling effect. Now he knew why Edinburgh produced so many great writers, poets, and inventors; the weather kept them indoors with nothing to do but write and invent.

He took a bus from the airport to Princes street and was impressed by how much the locals embraced Christmas, as adjacent to the Princes Street Gardens was a Christmas carnival still in full swing.

He departed the bus at the corner of Princes and Hanover street and walked back to North Castle street. Appropriately named as it was just on the north side of Edinburgh Castle in the New Town section, a misnomer today as the buildings dated back to the 1700’s.

Just in line with North Castle street, one could look up the hill to the imposing fortress of Edinburgh Castle. Ian was in awe of this view as it provided a medieval atmosphere and transported his imagination to an earlier time, especially at night when it was illuminated in golden hues.

Just a couple of blocks down North Castle Ian came to his rental at 10 Young street. It was situated just above the Oxford bar. He met the person leasing him the apartment, received the keys, laid down his luggage and fell asleep on the bed for several hours. He awoke in the early afternoon and immediately went downstairs, out the door and walked fifteen feet to the entrance of the Oxford.  Inside he was ‘greeted’ with a quiet atmosphere, no music or television, just a few people quietly talking with one another. As Ian entered the heads turned to check out the foreign body entering their Local. There were some slight nods and Ian kept his distance at the far end of the bar away from the small crowd of five patrons.

It was now close to 4 PM and more regulars started to arrive. Many of them giving Ian the once over and then continuing down the bar to meet their friends. The bartenders Ellie and Lucy were especially welcoming to Ian and provided him with conversation in addition to a couple of Belhaven’s.

The ice broke when some of the regulars reached out to Ian asking where he was from. It seemed Canada had a good reputation with the locals and more conversation continued. After a couple of weeks, Ian developed friendships with the regulars.  Big Jim, Regular Jim, Todd, Valarie, and Cesar always seemed to be there when Ian showed up. Oxford bar conversations were always fun, much of it around the Scottish Premier football league. Most of the regulars were Heart of Midlothian fans while just Big Jim was a Hibernian fan. Ian also became a Hibernian fan due to his Irish roots. But the rivalry between the two teams was always politely conversed along with lots of ribbing within the boundaries of the Oxford. The relationships and environment made Ian feel comfortable and at home. His mind freed up and allowed him to think more clearly about his future.

Whether it be proximity or the like of Canadians, Ian was able to get a part-time job behind the bar. It was a convenient employer and fun serving his friends. During his free time, which was probably most hours during the day, he explored Edinburgh and the surrounding region. Hikes up Arthur’s Seat, or just sitting having his lunch on Calton Hill. Often he jumped on the train down the east coast and spent time in Berwick-upon-Tweed. He also enjoyed taking the local bus to the town of Peebles on the River Tweed where he loved a small fish and chips restaurant.

During his excursions, he spent much of his time thinking about what happened in Argentina. It all seemed like some distant dream or perhaps a nightmare he had slowly recovered from. He felt himself in an awkward life position, from just having experienced an exhilarating, albeit dangerous, and meaningful experience to being back in the World of classrooms and drawing beers at a pub in Edinburgh. The divide between the two was confusing.

One afternoon Ian took a long hike through the Pentland Hills just south-west of Edinburgh. It was a journey of solitude occasionally being interrupted by some of the grassing sheep. Ian started assessing his life, the areas of interest, what he was good at doing and what kind of work would be meaningful to him. It all seemed to point to the work he had just completed with the Mossad.

He considered how many others have escaped the hands of justice never answering to their crimes. Families of lost loved ones looking for answers. A government’s inability to appease these misdeeds or possibly the preservation of their dark secrets. Perhaps, this is what Ian was meant to do; finding people, bringing them to justice, basically a bounty hunter with an altruistic nature.

Looking back over the year he started to feel a sense of accomplishment and valued the training and experience he acquired. Ian considered the possibility of continuing this work as a redeemer of justice “But would future missions always be so dangerous?” Most likely his future assignments would be confined to locating and documenting criminals from a safe distance, though he immediately thought about his operation in Argentina not following this script. But now with more experience and training, he believed he could impose safe boundaries for himself.

This career direction made sense the more he thought about it. But how could he fund his work? He would need strong allies to help operationally. Which organizations or governments could he make alliances with and contract out his services? The Mossad was clearly a front-runner. Though, they rightly-so, had their operational priorities; finding those guilty of crimes against their people and protecting their homeland.

But then Ian started to think about some of his own priorities and the images of the beautiful Cambodian Royal Ballet troupe came back to mind. Watching their graceful movements, the prior summer on the CBC and then finding out they were all killed at the hands of the Khmer Rouge. But Nazi Germany and Cambodia were not the only places to experience genocide.  In Indonesia, in the mid-1960’s President Sukarno launched his “New Order” offensive, basically eliminating the country’s communist party, but it also targeted ethnic Chinese and alleged leftists. Close to one million people were killed, with unofficial estimates up to three million. Ian wondered who the Gertrude Sommer’s and Adolf Eichmann’s were of the Sukarno regime and if they escaped punishment.

There wasn’t a shortage of possibilities as political genocide was experienced throughout the World in places like Burundi, Biafra, Bangladesh, and Uganda.  The World Court was another source for people of interest, as they keep a list of their most wanted criminals, often accused of genocide, unimaginable atrocities and the killing of woman and children.

Ian often felt a sense of guilt and urgency as he considered the mass scale of suffering occurring in Cambodia, while he safely hiked through Scotland and drew beers at the Oxford. He started to feel a profound duty to avenge the perpetrators and to deliver retribution. Suddenly he scared himself, thinking he might be evolving into more of an assassin versus an arbiter of justice. He continued his walks through the Scottish countryside hoping to untangle the complex myriad between justice and retribution and his plans for the future.

A couple of weeks later Ian came to the Oxford at his usual evening time around 9 PM to meet his friends. Entering the pub his regular crew were there and quietly looked over at him. Ellie who was tending the bar pointed to the side room and whispered, “Thare’s someone waiting fur ye Iain.” Ian went into the side room, and seated next to the fireplace at a table for two was Damien. He got up from his chair and embraced Ian for several seconds.

“It’s so good to see you, Ian. You’re looking well.”

“Thanks, Damien, it’s great seeing you again. What brings you to Edinburgh apart from the weather?”

“Ian, I never had a chance to really thank you for Argentina.”

“Oh, you did Damien, I heard you at the debriefing. I also appreciated the compensation you guys gave me.”

“Hmm, I’m not really talking about that stuff. In my last letter to you, the one you picked up from The Word, I alluded to a personal connection I had with Gertrude Sommer. It bothered me that I didn’t share this information with you earlier, as I heard you were going through a difficult time emotionally after you got back home. I want to share this important personal information with you now. I’m hoping it’s going to help make you feel better about Argentina.

Ian, as I had mentioned to you back in Montreal, I’m a camp survivor of Bergen-Belsen. I remember clearly when your father’s 11th Armored division liberated us from the camp.  This alone gave us a unique connection. But there’s more, something I didn’t tell you. In the camp, of all places, I fell in love with a girl named Kita Czapiewska. Unfortunately for her, she was often a target of Sommer’s sadistic behavior. One day in the yard Sommer was tormenting Kita. She had her on all fours when she suddenly pulled out her Lugar and shot her in the head. She ordered some fellow prisoners to drag her body behind one of the prisoner barracks and heap her onto a pile of other corpses. (Damien paused for several seconds with his lip quivering) I witnessed this murder from across the yard and collapsed in grief, quickly aided by some fellow prisoners. But my will to survive became stronger, praying I could eventually help prosecute Sommer for her crimes. Not only did she kill my Kita, she killed many others and back at Auschwitz she selected people for the gas chamber.

So, Ian, remember back on that park bench in Montreal, you told me why this mission was important to you? Well, your response made me feel that finding Sommer was as important to you as it was to me. I felt we were one in our hunt for Sommer. When I heard what you did in Argentina, I was never more grateful. I immediately ‘spoke to Kita’ and told her she can now rest in peace. I also personally appreciated not having Sommer on trial in Israel and hearing all those excuses again about following orders, and all the crazy sympathizers coming out of the woodwork. You saved me from feeling more pain during a trial. I thought my story was important to share with you.”

Both remained silent for a few seconds and the only sounds were the crackling from the fireplace next to them. Ian was visibly moved by Damien’s story. Having this first-hand account brought Ian closer to the suffering and pain this woman had caused and made him feel more justified in his actions.

“Thanks, Damien for sharing this, it does mean a lot to me and even convinces me more than I did the right thing in Argentina.”

After a pause, Ian decided he would broach his idea of continuing his ‘work’.

“Damien, I am so glad you’re here. Apart from your sharing this very personal information, I want to talk to you about a partnership going forward. Over the past few months I have been doing some thinking, or maybe I should say obsessing on what to do with my life. I came to the conclusion I want to continue the type of work I did in Argentina. Well, I’m hoping the work will be a lot safer going forward. You guys trained me well and I think this training combined with my experience would go to waste if I don’t continue…”

“The answer is yes, we would love to have you work with the Mossad, there are still many criminals for us to pursue.”

“Well, that’s great to know Damien, but apart from the interests and priorities of the Mossad, I have some of my own which are not in line with Israel’s but have the same purpose behind them, bringing those guilty of crimes against humanity to justice. I considered the recent work quite an accomplishment for the Mossad, and not to sound too much like a quid-pro-quo I was hoping the Mossad would be able to assist me operationally in some priorities of mine. Perhaps this relationship could swing back and forth in dealing with our mutual interests?”

“Ian, indeed, the accomplishment in Argentina is right up there with the capturing of Adolf Eichmann. You currently have a mystical status amongst our Operations team. We are forever indebted to you. Let me pursue your proposal with our Director. But I think he will be enthusiastic to go forward in a relationship with you.”

“Oh, something else Damien. I would like to get Sebastián to be a part of my team.”

“Ian, we did try and recruit him, but he seems intent on going in a different direction.”

“Yep, I know, I saw him before I left. I have a feeling he will be burning through that money and not lead the best student life. I’ll talk with him again. I figure in another couple of months he will be more open to the idea.  Again, I’ll explain to him, things should be a lot less dangerous going forward and we’ll be working more with our brains versus our brawn. But I would like Yury to come back to Montreal and provide Sebastián with some training, he definitely needs help in this area.”

Ian left the table and went out of the room to the bar and asked Ellie for two shots of Bruichladdich single malt Scotch whiskey. Returning to the table he suggested a toast.

“Here we go Damien, what should we toast to?”

“I have one Ian, here’s to Raquel, the Angel of Justice.”

 

The End

About the Author



Michael Ledoux is a long-time World adventurer who enjoys leveraging his personal experiences with his imagination. It is through his alter ego character Ian Richard we traverse significant historical experiences with the realization we have the opportunity to make a difference in life.

Michael lives in Cambridge, Massachusetts with his wife. His two older children are now out in the World having their own adventures.

Look for future Ian Richard stories and check-out Michael’s Travel Vlogs on YouTube (Humanfactor) as he takes you on virtual adventures around the World.

Michael is a citizen of the USA, Canada, and Ireland. Much of his work life has been spent in Software Development as a User Experience Designer. He holds a Masters degree from Bentley University in Human Factors in Information Design and an undergraduate degree from Northeastern University in Business Administration where he was a student-athlete playing Division 1 Ice Hockey.

Tea for Two

Part 1 – A great exit strategy

 “Ian, we’re sorry, but we have to lay you off today. We really have appreciated all the work you have done for us over the years and it is personally very hard for me to let you go, but the top has forced us to reduce the workforce by 15%. By the way, we do have an excellent career counseling partner we encourage you to connect with… security will walk with you to your desk to pick up your personal belongings, sorry Ian”.

And with those words, Ian began a year-long journey of job interviews, rejections, depression and most importantly a loss of interest in life. Up to the point of his lay-off, Ian was always financially secure, enjoyed the occasional outing with some friends, always arrived to work on time and rarely took his paid-time off. Ian was a mid-level manager and was usually appreciated by his upper management for his ability to control costs, but his ineptness in managing his relationships at work and in his personal life was what put him in jeopardy.

Ian was always in conflict with the World around him. At times he yearned for close contact with people, but at times he couldn’t do enough to get away from them. Ian was not a happy person. Apart from losing his job, he also seemed to lose his ability for joy and intimacy.

His depression was deepening over the last several months and his employment prospects shared a similar fate. But those close to Ian only saw his potential and could see a secure future for him. But those people, really, were not close enough. Ian’s outer appearance and resume often misled interpretation.

Ian was a decent looking man, tall and lean, and actually, younger looking than his 54 years. He tried to care more about his health, but this effort was weak up against his despair. He needed to do something drastic. Being constantly turned down for jobs and not having established a deeper intimacy with those around him made for a vulnerable man.

It was on one of his contemplative walks along the Charles River that Ian decided he wanted to address his despair. He did occasionally consider taking his own life, but he was not wasteful, as he would not want to abandon his life savings on an ill-conceived exit. But being a good planner he came up with an alternative. He would fly to Thailand where he understood the American dollar would go far and allow his longevity to be based on the strength of the US dollar. When his money would run out, he would then consider an “ill-conceived exit”.

 

Part 2 – Altitude & Constraint

 “Ok Rob, thanks for lift, I think this is the right terminal for international flights. And don’t worry about trying to get the best price for my place, but then again, don’t give it away. I’ll be in touch. “

Ian grabbed his one large bag from the back of Rob’s SUV, gave Rob a strong handshake and rushed through the sliding door, with the tail of his rain-coat flapping in his wake. Ian wasn’t the most seasoned traveler; he would occasionally go on a trip domestically, but never ventured too far. Thinking of his flight to Thailand was intimidating, but the alternative of not going was depressing. Just being at the airport seemed to bring some relief. Was it just an escape or was there a strain of hope running through him?

But the despair seemed to quickly come back as he submitted himself to the scrutiny of the TSA; a partial strip search and a hand pat-down made him uneasy. Did he look like some Terrorist? Ian had a good 5 O’clock shadow going and his fairly long brown hair swept constantly from side to side, but did he look dangerous? Perhaps it was his look of despair breaching the security space.

Ian finally boarded the large Airbus A-320 jet and found 36D, which was an aisle seat on the window side above a wing. There were 3 seats in his little section. The flight started to fill up as Ian started to get himself comfortable. An elderly woman eventually came to Ian and pointed to her 36F seat by the window.  Ian was hoping she would be the only one and that 36E would remain vacant.

A few remaining passengers were trickling in, Ian thought the people all looked quite different from those he would see every day at his former office. He couldn’t really pin it down; possibly they seemed more adventurous or had the air of leading exciting lives with many things to do in them. He was a bit envious of them all.

As he observed, his eye caught one particular woman who was getting assistance from the flight attendant, most likely directions to her seat. Something kept his attention on this woman. She was tall and slender, with shiny flowing black hair down to her shoulders, which occasionally covered a face that looked a mix of Asian and Occidental. She wore a bright red top, slim fitting jeans, and black high heeled boots. Ian suddenly felt attraction, which was something he seldom felt, and which the last time it was felt it led to a relationship, but that was many years ago. And though the relationship was not lasting, a memory of his love for the woman remained behind, and the feeling, after being dormant for many years, was released within his being, like an air bubble rising to the ocean’s surface.

He now locked his interest onto this woman, which brought him a sense of excitement. Would fate place her in 36E? Fate seemed to be coming through as she approached row 36. She stopped and turned towards him, “I’m afraid I have the seat in the middle?” She was even more beautiful up close, with red lipstick to match her top, a seductive smirk that seemed normal on her face and eyes that welcomed interaction.  “Oh, no problem, it would be quite lonely if no one was sitting here”.  Ian surprised himself with his improvised response, from which it elicited another more enticing smirk from the woman.  After she placed her carry-on into the overhead, Ian got up from his seat to let her enter.

The first leg of the flight was 15 hours to Tokyo. Then 7 hours to Bangkok. There was no way Ian was not going to talk with this woman but was very hesitant to start the conversation without the fear of being perceived as awkward or worse, hitting on her.  For several minutes he was trying to conjure up a meaningful starter quip but finally gave up once he saw the woman starting to read her book. Ian didn’t want to impose on her privacy and wondered if she might be the type of person, like himself, who didn’t really want to engage in conversation whilst in-flight.

Several green teas later Ian noticed something in the air. It was the subtle fragrant smell of a familiar cologne called Tea for Two. Ian fancied pleasant fragrances and the way they seemed to influence his mood. He had spent time over the last few years having a scientific interest in their creations. He became familiar with many and Tea for Two was one he greatly appreciated.

“Excuse me, but I have to ask you something.” She turned from her book with a receptive look, “Sure, what would you like to ask me?”

“Well, I have to ask if you are wearing Tea for Two?

“Wow, I can’t believe someone actually would recognize this, yes, it is, there is something about its Lapsang Souchong aroma I really like. It’s so unique eh, and can definitely stand out in a crowd.”

And thus began 15 hours of conversation which covered every aspect of their lives. What recently happened to Ian at work, his past relationships to his current plan. While Ann revealed much about her life and discussed the painful divorce and her lost custody of her two children to her ex-Japanese husband. Ann was currently living in Washington D.C. and worked for a government agency that required her to work frequently overseas. The agency being sensitive to her current situation arranged for Ann to work in Japan so she could be close to her 2 children for the next several months.

Ian, could tell the anguish she was experiencing and Ann could feel Ian’s despair. Apart from having sore necks from their chatting, and switching seats every few hours to ease the strain, they both sensed a connection was occurring. Perhaps there can be something said for high altitudes and constraint in movement.

“Yes, I am ethnically mixed. My father was an American GI in WWII and was stationed in Japan after the war ended, meeting my mum in Osaka. The army initially banned such relationships, but their love seemed to conquer these barriers and they ended up living a wonderful life together in Seattle, Washington. That’s where I grew up for most of my life.”

Ann loved both her parents and greatly appreciated her ethnic composition. But Ian found even deeper things; how caring Ann was, the importance of family, how passionate she was and even the sense of a sexually desirous woman circumstantially in a state of hibernation.

Their conversation consumed the 15-hour flight. Suddenly, the landing announcement came over the PA system.

“Ian, I really enjoyed our conversation, I can’t believe how fast the trip went. I would like to give you my business card with my email address. I will be working in Kamakura for the next few months. It’s a small temple town. It’s also a popular tourist location because of its many temples and famous giant bronze Buddha. My agency has a small office there I’ll be working out of. I really hope we can keep in touch.”

“Ann, I really had a wonderful time talking with you. I hope you have a great time with your children. I know it’s tough but I think things will change for you. Let’s definitely keep in touch.”

They lined up to exit the plane and marched along to the customs and in-transit area. It was there they said their final goodbye. Those 15 hours of in-flight conversation translated into years of familiarity. They stole a quiet moment within the rush, “Take care Ann.”, “Ian, I do hope we will meet again.” and then embraced for several seconds. Both felt each other’s tight hold.

It wasn’t until Ian was boarding his final leg to Bangkok that he realized what had just occurred and the importance of this fated meeting. He reached into his pocket for her card, but his fingers felt nothing. He frantically checked his other pockets, and again came up empty. He had lost her card and even struggled to remember her US Agency’s name and even her last name, which was long and non-memorable. His despair returned and it was now mixed with a feeling of loss.

 

Part 3 – Living the “dream”

 The months passed on and Ian found himself situated on the resort Thai island of Koh Lanta. This was a more out of the way destination which would provide a bit more peace and quiet, and yet still allow Ian to live out those male fantasies often associated with an ex-patriots life in Thailand.

Ian would start his day with an inexpensive Thai massage on the beach, walk into town for lunch and drink at night at one of the beach bars. As fun as this lifestyle may seem, Ian started to feel unsettled and empty, he started to think again about Ann and fantasized about locating her in Japan to start a life together. He also thought that in his current state he didn’t have too much to offer her.

One morning he decided against his normal schedule, packed his bag and took a bus to Bangkok to look up a friend of Rob’s named Charlie. Charlie was a New England guy who years earlier came to Thailand on multiple occasions, and decided to establish himself in the role of an ex-patriot entrepreneur. Charlie also met a woman who was working at one of the local hotels, they fell in love and started a family together.

Ian became close with Charlie and his wife and settled down in Bangkok. He told them about his encounter with Ann and how the experience had haunted him throughout his stay. Charlie suggested an opportunity to Ian that might be able to get him back on track career wise and at the same time give him an opportunity to try and find Ann.

Several weeks later Ian found himself back in mid-level management for a multi-national company with a strong link to Japan.

 

                                             Part 4 – Kamakura’s Buddha       

 “Ladies and gentlemen, please fasten your seatbelts as we will be beginning our approach to Narita International airport”.

Exiting the airport and boarding the Narita Express Railway to Yokohama, Ian didn’t know how he was going to find Ann. He couldn’t remember the government agency she worked at, nor even her full name. The only thing he had to go on was the name of the small town in which her small office was located. And the only way he remembered the name of the town Kamakura, was the fact it was the location of a large bronze Buddha Ann had mentioned.

Ian spent his first day searching the Internet for US government offices in Kamakura, he even called the US Embassy, but neither produced answers. The next day Ian decided to take the train to the small town of Kamakura and do a search on the ground. He walked all over the small town and enquired within any office building, of which there were just a few. He came up with a few empty leads and left to go back to his hotel quite frustrated.

He was scheduled to leave Japan in a couple of days and thought he might just go back to Kamakura to honor his memory of Ann and to actually visit the large bronze Buddha she talked so enthusiastically about.

It was a cool and sunny April day with a slight breeze when Ian arrived back in Kamakura. He walked the 2 miles to the bronze Buddha where he admired the creation and noted its significance to the Japanese people. He again thought of his 15 hours with Ann and realized her significance to him.

For his final gesture to his lost opportunity, Ian walked over to a nearby tea shoppe. He ordered a cup of green tea and sat down at an outside table amongst several tourists. Nursing his green tea, Ian focused on the Buddha. Suddenly, Ian noticed something, a certain familiar fragrance in the air… Tea for Two?

The End

What’s Going On Here?

 

Bio

Could You Be Loved

Jenny cried and felt helpless, but the tears and fears were not visible, they were internally felt, and usually over the same issue.  Her father Desmond. This was the way she felt since childhood and it’s the way she was feeling now. It was a relationship which was always in conflict and unresolved.  It was one of many issues keeping Jenny up at night.  There is a saying that if you cannot do much about something, there is no point worrying about it. But Jenny always felt like she can do something. That she can mitigate the impact of bad outcomes if she could take carefully calculated actions—that is why she thinks, plans, and then executes. It was the same line of thinking that occupied her consciousness for other issues as well, boyfriends, work conflicts, career planning and her place in the World.

Jenny was from a typical Jamaican family, born and brought up in Spanish Town, St. Catherine, Jamaica also the birthplace of Grace Jones. Like many other Jamaican families, Jenny’s had strong connections to family members in the United States.  Jamaica often felt like another US state but just separated by a few cultural differences and a few hundred miles of Caribbean waters. It was from this geographical relationship her Dad decided to leave the family for a new life in the US.  It happened at a time with some significant events affecting the island. Hurricane Gilbert devastated the towns, the economy was getting worse and a political upheaval was occurring with Michael Manley returning as the Prime Minister.

Desmond also felt his own internal hurricane and personal change, one moment he was walking hand in hand with Jenny along the beach at sunset on her 7^th birthday, eventually carrying her on his shoulders back home, to the next day when Jenny could not figure out where and why he had left mum and the family. For several years Jenny never heard from her father, but somehow her mother Dawn would know his whereabouts and activities via those well-established family connections.

It was a typical abandonment story, the pain, and anger of losing one’s father to managing that conflict within, of love for one’s father. For Jenny, her internal thought processes seemed to go into overdrive trying to figure out a solution for resolving this family issue. It didn’t get easier for Jenny, as the years passed and her life evolved she still maintained a space in her complex thinking for her father.

Jenny did grow up and learned how to live independently early in life. Her mother Dawn brought the family to NYC but decided to return to Jamaica when Jenny was attending Hunter College.  After countless trips on the 6 Train to 68^th street, Jenny matriculated with a degree in biology. Her professors found her an ordinary student when it came to her grades but were always impressed by her deep thinking and inquisitive nature on subject areas that really had no association with her tests and assignments.

Apart from academics, she was very involved in life. She worked part-time as a barista at the Starbucks on campus and in the Springtime, ran track for Hunter College. In fact, she had an athletic scholarship for her ability to beat nearly every other Collegiate competitor in the 100 and 200-meter sprints. Her personality was a socially polite introvert, well-mannered with good social skills and with a non-threatening dialog. One sensed she would only share meaningful pieces of information on a need to know basis. She was protective of herself, not wanting to let herself become too vulnerable, perhaps echoes of her earlier abandonment compromising her intimacy with others today.

Though an introvert, Jenny carried a subtle confidence in herself. She dressed fashionably and tastefully, and visually, she made a connection with her World through amenable eye contact and a friendly extroverted smile.

Romantically, Jenny experienced several meaningful and not so meaningful relationships. Men were drawn to Jenny’s athletic but feminine statue, her long finely structured and defined legs, her bronzed smooth skin, her seductive and interested eyes, and her full, beautifully shaped lips. Jenny had a dichotomous nature when it came to relationships, she maintained an open-minded philosophy when it came to race, age and profession. Yet, she held some traditional values when it came to letting someone get within her intimate self. It was remarkable that someone starting out in life like Jenny had such wisdom in evaluating her situation and vulnerability when it came to relationships.  How did she acquire such insights and awareness? Especially considering parental and adult influence and modeling was often missing in her life growing up. There must have been some innate ability which was her guide.

Her relationships were quite varied but all adhered to her standards and to a consistent set of values applied to all situations.  Jenny placed as much importance on a simple kiss or touch as to the ultimate state of intimacy, perhaps even more. The men in her life appreciated her reserve and interpreted it as a woman with class and value, she was the “thinking man’s” women.  She was a substantial woman, yet her persona veiled her innocence and vulnerabilities.

While in college, Jenny opened up to more substantial relationships. There was Marcus. He shared a similar background story with Jenny. He was born in Jamaica and emigrated with his parents to New York City.  He was tall, with chiseled facial features, a muscular frame and charismatic. He was affectionate to Jenny and always made her laugh. They initially knew each other when they attended the Kipp Academy Charter school in the Bronx. Marcus was like a big brother to Jenny and this casual and humorous relationship evolved into a more mature one. It was not the type of relationship one would hope for in one’s future but more a nurturing one, where both participants, supported each other through the awkwardness of their initial experiences with intimacy.

After college Jenny was quite frustrated trying to find a meaningful position in the bio field. She really needed an advanced degree to get anything worthy of her ambition in the field.  But being a woman with a strong influence in practicality Jenny went to the next best thing. Fashion. She loved eyewear and had a huge personal collection, akin to her peers with their desires of shoes.  So, Jenny heard of the altruistic company Warby-Parker. And secured a position in one of their first showroom stores on Greene Street in Soho.

It was while working at Warby-Parker Jenny really fell in love. Sean was from Edinburgh, Scotland and was very Scottish, with a full-on brogue, dark red hair, and a robust personality. The chemistry between them taught Jenny, and probably Sean as well, that this is what love feels like. Sean was still finishing up his University studies with a degree in Economics. He was hoping to get into one of the many financial institutions in NYC.  Then upon graduation, neither his good grades or good looks could prevent him from an expired student Visa.  It was a sad farewell and Jenny saw Sean off at LaGuardia International, not sure if they would see each other again.

Jenny was able to handle her loss like her other painful experiences in life, with a calm and pleasant veneer, yet, she would be in turmoil internally thinking about all the ways they could be resolved. Often, she would end up sleeping only 3 hours a night while the other hours would be consumed with solutions, reconciliations, and compromises. She was often leading two lives, practical by day, philosophical by night.

As time passed Jenny continued cultivating new relationships and friendships, she became more enlightened about what was important to her and what type of person she wanted to be with. She learned the more she knew about herself, the better she could set her direction. This was applied to her relationships and to her career ambitions.

While at Warby-Parker, Jenny was a top employee. She did everything well, but it was Management that recognized her potential, especially around data.  Towards the end of her first year, she developed a friendship with Warby-Parkers’ senior Brand manager Huntley Rodes. They often lunched together and would chat about data analytics relative to store locations. Huntley was interested in how Jenny would interpret the many Excel spreadsheets of customer related data he had for locating showroom stores.  Jenny exhibited an extraordinary ability to visualize the insights behind the data, as if looking at a cloud and seeing some kind of image, Jenny was able to do the same with Huntley’s data, and quickly created several data visualizations using Tableau software to explain customer trends, cross-selling opportunities, and geo-demographic data related to locating future showrooms.  Huntley was so impressed with her presentations that he shared her visualization work to the Warby-Parker executive board. Several weeks later, Jenny found herself on British Airways heading to London to help management expand their presence throughout the European Union. She found herself living in London, Paris, and Milan for the next 3 years while supplying the company with key data based insights for their success.

 

Jenny achieved great success with Warby-Parker, but more importantly, she really discovered her mission in life, that combination of something one is so naturally good at mixed with a desire to do it. It was time for her to accelerate in this direction. She decided to leave Warby-Parker and return to the United States to pursue her Ph.D. in Data Analytics at Georgetown University in Washington DC.  Georgetown, like Huntley, recognized her brilliance and potential in this field and provided her with a full scholarship and a Teaching-Fellowship in their school of computer science.

Jenny thrived in academia, she published research, gave lectures and was quickly becoming THE authority in her field. Upon receiving her Ph.D. she accepted a full-time tenured-tracked teaching position at Georgetown.  Financially secure with the money she made at Warby-Parker, and her savvy ability managing her finances, Jenny bought her first home. It was a very special home, built in 1900, located at 2734 P street. It was recently renovated and was just a very special environment in which to live and to even grow old within. Jenny loved this house and frequently hosted her friends and family members for long weekends and holidays. The home gave her a sense of family and stability, something which she was at odds with growing up.

She loved lecturing and the students found her classes interesting and inspiring, she was broaching new horizons in data analytics, she taught her students the fundamentals of seeing patterns in the data and their interpretation. Her views of data were artistic and poetic, the students would realize just how special her influence was and her classes quickly became the most popular on campus.

Yet, with all the success and satisfaction in her career, Jenny often still had sleepless nights. Still thinking about her father and the course of their relationship.

Not too long after Jenny moved into 2734 P street on her 38^th birthday, her father Desmond, arranged a little get-away beach vacation with his current girlfriend. They went to Treasure Beach Resort in Jamaica. On their first day, Desmond decided to take an early evening swim. The temperature was perfect as the sun was setting during the changing of the tides. Desmond liked the fact he had the whole beach to himself, as most of the guests were dining or in town.  Unbeknownst to Desmond were the strong riptide warnings issued during the day. While into his 5th body surfing turn an extremely strong undertow pull his body way out to sea, it was as if the sea god Neptune had grabbed his legs and yanked him into the deep sea out of anger. Desmond, not knowing what to do, panicked and fought against the undertow, which is the worst thing one can do. He started to be dragged further out to sea. His shouts for help echoed in the twilight emptiness of the ocean around him. He started getting exhausted and disorientated. He was so frightened. His thought of dying increased his panic, but his adrenaline was depleted and he started to weaken his hold on life. It was at this precise moment, on the cusp of life and death, Desmond’s life played out in his mind; his indiscretions, misbehaviors, and selfishness stood out clearly as to what God would be judging his life on. It was during his realization of death, he asked his maker for forgiveness. He started a dialog with God, and suddenly his fear and panic drifted away, he was calm and accepting of his plight, but also thankful his predicament was a catalyst to recognizing the pain he brought to others, especially to his daughter Jenny.

Though he was in a state to accept his impending death, he asked God to save him, that if he had a second chance he would make reprimands for all his misgivings, that he would be a new person, as if his sins would be absolved with a chance to start a new life in which he would be loving and caring for all those he abandoned and especially to his daughter Jenny, whom he truly loved but due to the man he once was made him incapable of expressing this love, which was dormant deep down inside his soul.

Whether it was God who intervened or by chance, a great wave began to push, if not carry, Desmond toward the now dark shoreline. The wave left Desmond within 20 yards of the beach, he had just enough strength to make it ashore. He collapsed on the beach and for about 1 hour laid there looking up at the stars and continued his conversation with God. He proclaimed he was given a rebirth and shed his outer misgivings like a snake his skin. As he came to collecting himself and start back to his hotel, his girlfriend and hotel staff came running over to him, knowing he had escaped some misfortune.

He felt his soulful change and metamorphosis could not be explained to his girlfriend. His commitment in carrying out his reconciliation was great and utmost. It was something which could not wait until the end of his vacation. It was so impactful and moving that Desmond interpreted it as a clear message from God to make things right and to live a better and honorable life immediately. The next morning Desmond’s urge to start his new life was intense. At breakfast, he told his soon to be ex-girlfriend he must go to Washington, DC to see his daughter. He encouraged her to stay on and enjoy herself. Two days later Desmond was in DC.

He realized his next encounter with Jenny had to be handled carefully as she was getting increasingly upset and hostile towards him due to his guilty and selfish phones calls made primarily to make himself feel better.

So, with a trust in his spiritual rebirth, he decided to take another chance in calling her before a physical visit. He was so nervous, more than he ever experienced, which was a testament to how much he really cared for and loved Jenny.

He made the call early in the evening, typically he called late at night and would just ramble, so Jenny was quite taken aback to hear her father talk to her in a way she had never experienced before. He sounded thoughtful, polite, and caring. Was this really her father calling?  He asked for a meetup to discuss something of importance. Jenny was surprised he was in DC and soon realized he was there solely to see her about something.  Jenny had a sense something was different in her father and suggested they meet at a place called Lucky Bar on Connecticut Ave.

Jenny had arrived a half-hour before their meeting time and decided a glass of wine was in order to weather this encounter. Finally, her father came walking in, Jenny braced herself in the booth she settled into for their conversation. As her father approached, she could see in his eyes, her eyes, and immediately read something was different as if her father had some aura surrounding him that expanded outward towards Jenny and warmly embraced her. Desmond wasn’t sure if he should tell Jenny about his near-death experience as he thought she might interpret it the wrong way. Instead, he told her how much he truly loved her and how sorry he was for everything he did to cause her pain. He told her his life has completely changed and he would like a second chance at being her father. He would dedicate the remaining years of his life to being a better person, to be the best he can be and to honor the gift of life he was given by the almighty and to do justice by it. He was sitting opposite Jenny at the table and started to cry and slowly bowed his head. Jenny immediately feeling her father was truly back, came to his side and embraced him, as both cried together.

Today Jenny is leading a life she feels is doing justice within the eyes of her creator and herself. Her career is fulfilling and her relationship with her father has transcended the past to a rich and loving present. She is happy and brings that happiness to all those around her. She has learned that genuine love can be experienced in all forms and to this day she often can’t help but to smile when she crosses the path of people she senses are loving souls just like herself.

 

Postscript:

In thinking about her life, Jenny remembers a man who said over a ramen soup & sake that life offers many paths, but that so many people are afraid to take the wrong one, they often don’t take any, but enlightenment happens on all paths… just take one and start living.

 

Personal Artifacts

Typical music played in the background during Jenny’s adolescence in Jamaica.https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0mNPKNAQl4c

 

St. Catherines, Jamaica, Emancipation Square Spanish Towne. Where Jenny and her family often spent time.

Typical music listen by Jenny during her college relationship years.https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ju8Hr50Ckwk

 

Jenny’s undergraduate institution, Hunter College

 

The Warby Parker store in Brooklyn,  Jenny worked at after college.

 

Jenny’s first work in Data Visualization for Warby Parker’s Corporate Office.

 

When living in Paris,  Jenny had a flat in the Latin Quarter

 

Jenny attended Georgetown school of computer science and obtained her Ph.D. in Data Analytics.

 

Students listening to one of Jenny’s lectures on Data Analytics at Georgetown’s school of computer science.

 

The house Jenny bought at 2734 P street, Washington DC

http://tour.homevisit.com/mls/59215

 

Treasure Beach, Jamaica, where Jenny’s Dad was reborn.

The Lucky Bar on Connecticut Ave in DC where Jenny and her Dad meet.

 

The theme song to Jenny’s story.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mFDoIcASwJU

Going Nowhere

I decided to disclose something or somebody from my past. Not that this is a serious thing, but it was a thing I kept private for many years. Why private? It was just because the person I knew was a bit of a celebrity, though he would be rolling his eyes now if he saw me write this. He is actually probably laughing as he sees me type this stuff. I say “he sees” because my good friend is dead and I hope he is still paying attention to me from where ever he now resides. He died on October 21st, 2003. I got the news early in the morning at my office from a mutual friend in Denver. But this story is not about his death or his “fame”, it is a story about our friendship and how we related to each other and how we influenced each other. It is a story about the late great singer-songwriter Elliott Smith and myself.

We first meet in Amherst, Massachusetts. Actually, he jokingly referred to himself as Elliott Stillwater-Rotter at the time we meet in the late 1980’s. He came all the way from Portland (via Texas – Omaha). I was originally from Montreal. An Irish-French mix who was also an anglophone. My family moved down to Boston when I was about to enter high school.

I think people saw us as quite different in the physical world. Elliott looked and behaved like an artist. I greatly admired his roaming into new territories, e.g. books on feminism. I was actually on a football scholarship to UMass-Amherst. Elliott would joke with me about his background playing football in middle school. I guess we were kind of like the “dharma bums” of the time. I was to Jack Kerouac as Elliott was to Ken Kesey or Allen Ginsberg.

How did we connect? We actually had one big thing in common. Music. We actually meet at an open mic in downtown Amherst. We both played some traditional blues songs. After our sets, we had exchanged a few words in appreciation to each other’s music. That was the start of our relationship. Over the course of the semester, we would see each other at different eateries throughout town. I think the turning point in our friendship began at a burrito place late one weekday night.

Tulsa

Alison’s story:

It was here at the Jonas E. Salk elementary school in Tulsa, Oklahoma whereas a 4^th grader I decided to reveal my feelings to a boy in class my heart was set upon to marry. This is probably one of those experiences which destined me for future expensive therapy sessions. I didn’t expect the boy to laugh at me and call me names and then started to make fun of me in front of our classmates. I was devastated. If it weren’t for our teacher Mrs. Einhorn’s intervention I think I may have run off to Swan Lake and never show my face again.

That was 17 years ago, and over those years my life has been somewhat difficult. It took a trip back into my Tulsa past to get some direction and to begin living better.

It was 3 years ago I came to visit my grandma, who took care of me through some of the rough spots in my parents’ marriage. I loved going to grandma’s place. Even today as I walk along the white brick wall on South 72^nd East Avenue, I feel the love and attention she gave me.

But I also remember the reason why she was so involved in my life. My parents just couldn’t get along. Which also traumatized me and set my character for making bad decisions in my relationships and the ability to maintain a content and satisfying relationship.

This return to Tulsa provided me a chance to understand and perhaps solve some of the issues that I was experiencing in my “career” and in my personal life.

During that visit, I kept thinking about that boy who embarrassed me so. What was so special about him? A name and face I had forgotten over the years but an experience which lives within me. Perhaps he represents all men in my mind these days.

Tulsa brought up so many memories for me, and so many questions. Like why couldn’t my parents have stayed together? I love them both very much and to this day I greatly enjoy a relationship with each, but why did they break-up?  I do remember seeing them in love at one time. I think this was the main cause behind my mistrust of relationships. Does the initial passion just burn for so long? Can romantic love be lasting, and when it is gone will the couple look at each other and realize the new emptiness, the sign of conclusion?

Should our relationships be more practical in nature? Can we have love without romance, be content without the passion, become good roommates, provide each with financial stability and an ear for consultation? Can this be satisfying in the long run?

This is the confusion I face each day in my current relationship with Connor. I care for him, but I don’t really know if I love him or if he even loves me. Perhaps this is a practical relationship of which I appreciate but also feel an emptiness.

I wish I could say other parts of my life were better understood, but I can’t. My career is as confusing as my understanding of relationships. My life in corporate marketing also seems void of passion. I have given up on my hope and ambition in this current direction and seek something more meaningful, something more beneficial to the World.

I guess you can say at age 27 I feel a bit lost in life, a bit lonely and a bit defeated.

My colleagues back in Boston always ask me why go back to Tulsa? They just don’t get it. Our origins are who we are. In Tulsa, I can find my answers. There is a beauty and mystery in all the places I have marked time. I came back for a chance of living better.

It’s funny how sometimes one gets an answer to a question they have yet to ask. It was this way when after my visit with grandma I went to a luncheon place my dad use to take me to in the Brookside section of Tulsa. As I settled down at The Brook Restaurant and Bar on South Peoria and started in on my very healthy cheddar fries (I passed on my usual chicken fried steak due to my vegetarian ways) and washed everything down with a Marshall Atlas IPA, I remembered the bicycle shop.

My dad had owned and managed a couple of bicycle shops in Tulsa, one of which was located in South Peoria. During my parent’s break-up, he sold the stores, one of which I noticed on South Peoria is still going strong. As a kid, I loved spending my time with my dad at the bike shop. I loved the way he seemed to have endless amounts of customers who were also his friends. I also remember test riding the many bikes he would get in stock and then our searching for “antique” bikes, which we would find in the trash or at local yard sales. We rebuilt these bikes and gave them a new life, which we provided to the needy kids in the neighborhood. This in-turn gave new memories to these kids. My dad was a very loving man.

This was the memory that inspired me to start my current Recycle Bike business back here in Tulsa. It was the perfect marriage between recycling and my love for my dad.

So I left my current job and relationship in Boston and started Sharks, a company that hunts for any two-wheeled form of transportation and rebuilds them into a new sustainable life.

My visit 3 years ago did provide me some answers, and now after operating this business for the past 2 years and resettling in Tulsa I feel renewed and recycled myself. Yet, I am still alone.

 

Gavin’s story:

My mom was now getting on in years and still living in Tulsa when I decided to go back and spend some time with her, but there was also another reason I came back home.

I was getting burned out from my design job in San Francisco and needed a big change in my life. Sitting behind a computer all day following design instructions from people who really don’t understand design had been so frustrating. I’ve changed jobs a few times to see if I could get some relief, but it never came.

My salvation came in the form of wood. For years, I played acoustic and electric guitar, sometimes in bands and often solo. I have always loved music and playing guitar over the years really enhanced my appreciation for music. I came to know several guitar luthiers over the years and always toyed with the idea of becoming a luthier, better known as a guitar maker. After realizing this change in vocation, I couldn’t understand why I didn’t see it earlier.

So at the age of 27, I gave notice and moved back to Tulsa to attend the Brookside Guitar Makers School. It’s a 10-month program in which one learns to make and repair all sorts of acoustic and electric stringed instruments.

My San Francisco friends just couldn’t believe I would prefer Tulsa to San Francisco, and that I would leave a fairly high paying job to start a new career as a guitar luthier. But it all made sense to me. Except, I wish I could have had the same vision and understanding about relationships.

I never really had a hard time meeting women, it was just that all my relationships seemed so short termed and so non-committed. It was like I was in a new relationship about every 3 or 4 months, sometimes 2 or even 3 at the same time! But the women didn’t seem to care, nor did most of my male friends. It was the norm.

But I really wanted more. I wanted to find someone who really cared about me, how I was feeling, who would listen to my problems, offer advice, and who genuinely was concerned about my overall well-being. And I wanted to do the same for her, be there for her, worry about her. I wanted that closeness only a deeper kind of connection would give.

My school was located on South Peoria Avenue next to the Flying Burrito. But I was actually living at my mom’s house on South Yale Avenue. It actually wasn’t too far from the school and it was also located next to La Fortune park where I spent a lot of time playing as a kid. But I was far enough away from South Peoria where I needed some inexpensive mode of transportation.

By the way, you may have noticed, that many street names in Tulsa are named after other cities and states across the country. I never liked this. It made me feel like we weren’t good enough to have our names. Tulsa, you are good enough.

I heard about a recycle bicycle business near the school named Sharks. The other day I stopped by and picked up a refurbished 1982 Trek. It’s a great bike at an exceptional price, but it wasn’t the bike that was the best thing about Sharks, it was Alison.

 

Alison on Gavin:

This guy came into Sharks several times looking for a particular kind of bike. He looked so familiar. It was strange; I was immediately attracted to him, which was never the case with all my other male customers. He was about 6 feet tall, slim but brawny like he might have been some kind of college athlete. He had this unusual Viking red-hair and fairly chiseled facial features. His eyes were the thing, they spoke to me as someone who was kind, caring and romantic. I always liked the way he dressed, which was so different from all the other guys, he wore monk style shoes versus sneakers, pants that were also unique in color and texture without being too crazy. His shirts and t-shirts always seem to fit his form well. He looked healthy and strong, but it was his personality and smile I so felt affection for. He had this polite openness about him, not shy to broach any subject but in a way that wouldn’t embarrass or offend. His voice was soothing as was his temperament. He always seemed so relaxed and so comfortable in life. I also loved his name, Gavin. I don’t know why, but it sounded so familiar to me. It was an established name but one that was also unique, which was also a fair description of Gavin.

He not only bought that 1982 Trek but got me in the deal as well.

We started seeing each other often, usually at lunch when he was at school and then after work, we would have a drink at the Pei Wei Asian dinner.

I was actually afraid how strong the attraction was, thinking about my theory that something so passionate would not be lasting. But I didn’t want to be afraid of being afraid and decided to embrace Gavin and our time together.

I so fondly remember our first dinner together at Pei Wei’s. I felt we were both so attracted to each other and really had to control ourselves least we embarrass the Pei Wei staff and ourselves. I think I may have had a bit too much to drink that night as well, but it just felt like a celebration to me at that moment. Everything was coming together and I wanted to celebrate this juxtapose of experience between Boston and Tulsa.

After dinner, it was outside on the sidewalk, and without reservation, I looked into Gavin and asked him to spend the night with me.

 

Gavin’s Experience:

It was right after dinner when Alison asked me to spend the night with her. It hadn’t been too many days when it came to this point; we both seemed so ready. Alison was somewhat tipsy from the earlier drinks, I felt a bit awkward, not wanting to take advantage of her present state.

Then I thought about someone else in my life. A few years earlier I was a close friend with someone who I felt very fond of. I think she felt the same about me. We were both in relationships with someone else. One evening we happened to be together when everything seemed to fall into place for us, the setting, our feelings and she asked me the same thing, and she was also tipsy. It was one of the harder decisions I had to make, not to take up the offer, thinking I may be taking advantage of her. That moment has haunted me since, and at this same juncture, I decided I would not make the same mistake, and ride that wave of passion.

It was around sunset when Alison and I walked arm in arm down South Peoria, past my school, past her recycle bicycle shop and to her home. The sunset was so beautiful that very warm summer night. The sun seem to turn a dark red and I could see a black velvet shadow folding over the landscape behind us,

When we got to her home I was so surprised. Alison lived in a Frank Lloyd Wright Prairie Home styled house. It was built in 1929 and had an art deco architecture style, with long rectangular supporting beams, flat level roofs at different heights around the house. It was amazing.

Just as we closed the door behind us, we immediately fell into a deep embrace, which propelled us into Alison’s bedroom. We crashed together onto her king-sized futon, with remnants of the sunset flowing through Frank Lloyd Wright’s tall rectangular windows.

I’m not one to divulge too many details, but I feel this moment warranted a decent description, as it well represented how passion can be so strong and so uniquely felt. It sometimes can be all about the details.

I don’t know why I did this because I never did this with anyone before, but I wanted to honor every part of Alison that I could experience. I started with the toes of her feet, eventually working my way up her leg to her hips. I loved the feel of her flesh against mine. Alison had such perfect and precise dimensions. I greatly admired how her clothes would fit her; it didn’t matter what she wore, it would always accentuate her figure. Alison also had this very attractive posture, especially her squared off shoulders that seemed to convey a shape like a beautiful art deco vase, which fit quite well in Frank Lloyd Wrights place.

I traveled to her stomach, which was flat but shapely, with a traceable amount of lightly bronzed hair that ran from her belly button down to a place I would venture towards later.

As I mentioned before, Alison’s shoulders greatly attracted me, I just loved holding them and being in contact with her skin. I slowly traveled from the top of her shoulders down to her elbows, and around her rib cage, which made her scream with delight.

Alison had this beautiful, silky long brown hair that felt so good sweeping across my face. And which concealed the most beautifully shaped breasts I have every seen. She was extremely sensitive to my soft touch. I made my way to an even more attractive feature to me, Alison’s lips. There was something about the fullness of her lower lip that greatly excited me, I would take hold of her lower lip with my mouth and apply just the right about of pressure, just as I had elsewhere throughout her beautiful body. I kissed her neck and then her ear which seemed to greatly tickle her; she loved to laugh during this time together. I didn’t realize I could be so funny in bed. She did seem to be enjoying herself as evident from the sounds she was emitting. It sounded like she was speaking in tongues at times, some ancient language no one knew and could only be produced through deep passion and ecstasy.

I was still in my giving phase, as I gently turned Alison over onto her stomach and started to massage somebody oil I found on her night table into her shoulders and down her spin. I gently applied pressure to each vertebra and produced a light chiropractic pop, of which she loved.

I also started to massage her lower back and could feel her readiness, which was the ultimate signal to further transfer my passion into her. I can’t really describe how good it felt being this close to Allison. We both started a synchronized rhythm towards a deeper closeness in our relationship. The next thing I knew we were waking up to the sun coming in from the opposite windows, with white Egyptian cotton sheets tangled around our bare bodies.

 

Alison’s Experience:

We woke up to see Saturday morning pouring in on us. It was indeed a beautiful night together. I took Gavin on a stroll down South Peoria to the Brookside Farmers’ Market where we bought fresh eggs, sweet peppers, organic sundried tomatoes, asiago cheese and some fresh cut flowers. We came back and whipped up a filling Spanish omelet we both devoured, after which we went back to my bedroom where we laid down on my futon and talked more deeply about our lives, our families and the different directions that brought us together. I’ve never been more comfortable and content with any man.

 

Gavin has the last word:

Later that day Alison and I went to La Fortune park, a place we both favored as kids and a place that provided us both with comforting memories. It was amazing how much we had in common, I never asked Alison her age but I knew we were close in years. She mentioned going to the Trinity Episcopal Day School for pre-school. Being a roman catholic I wasn’t sent there but I always thought Trinity was a medieval castle in the heart of Tulsa. I always expected knights to walk out of Trinity’s big red door and archway at the corner of South Cincinnati and East 5^th street. When Alison next mentioned the Jonas Salk Elementary school I was shocked to find out we both had been students there.

I had to relate to Alison one of my memories or perhaps a confession from my experience at the Salk Elementary school. I told Alison that to this day I had always felt bad with the memory of making fun of a little girl in my class who had a crush on me. I felt bad because I also liked her very much but felt so embarrassed when she told me her feelings in front of my friends that I reacted by taking the attention off myself by making fun of her. It’s funny how these little incidents in our past can stay with us. After I made my confession I looked at Alison and she was staring at me in a bewildered way with her mouth agape.

 

The End for now.