Free Eva by Ib Melchior Page B

how to ask.
    “ Mein Führer?” he said.
    “Soon the German Reich will be without its Fuhrer,” Hitler intoned solemnly. “The world without Adolf Hitler.” Some of the old fire returned to his voice. “But it is imperative that my seed, my genes, live on. A Germany in my image must endure for the ages.” He paused. He looked at Bormann—a burning, piercing gaze. “Eva Braun is carrying a child,” he said. “ My heir! To be born into the world in less than five months.”
    Bormann was too stunned to speak. He merely stared at Hitler.
    “Eva Braun, whom I this night take to wife, will bear my son,” Hitler finished.
    Bormann tried to collect his racing thoughts. The wedding. Of course. That was why Hitler wanted to marry that insipid little snip of a photographer’s assistant. That was the real reason for the ridiculous eleventh-hour wedding. To make their union legitimate. To give the Führer’s son his name. Son? He frowned at Hitler.
    “Son?” he said. “How . . . ?”
    “The stars decree it,” Hitler said. “The signs all predict the child will be a boy. My son.”
    Bormann stared at him. He had never shared the Führer’s mystical belief in astrology. Stupid nonsense, of course. But he had an uneasy feeling that this time—this time it was true.
    Eva Braun was carrying the Führer’s son!
    “It is clear to you now, is it Bormann, why Eva must leave Berlin and must be brought to safety?”
    “Of course,” Bormann affirmed at once. “And I pledge to you I shall do my utmost to ensure the safety of Fräulein Eva and her unborn child.”
    Another promise, easy to break, he thought. Once out of Berlin he could do as he pleased. Fräulein Braun—or Frau Hitler— would have to fend for herself.
    Hitler nodded. As if reading his deputy’s mind he continued: “It will, of course, be in your own interest, Bormann, to keep Eva from harm, until she is safe in South America.”
    Bormann frowned at him. What did he mean?
    Hitler gave him a thin smile. “Let me explain, mein lieber Herr Reichsleiter,” he said, a hint of mockery in his raspy voice. “I have amassed a vast fortune, Bormann. My royalties from Mein Kampf alone.” He spread his hands eloquently. “Unlike so many others, this was not done for my own personal benefit, but to ensure that our National Socialist ideals will never die!” He looked shrewdly at Bormann. “I do not exaggerate,” he said quietly, “when I tell you this fortune now runs into billions of Reichsmarks. It is hidden, of course, in accounts in international banks, most of it in Switzerland.” He looked steadily at Bormann. “And Eva, and only Eva, knows where and how to find it. She is the key. The sole key. The key to a vast and secret treasure, Bormann, that can become yours. That can help the survivors of this last battle ultimately to win the war. You, and others like you, who will flee to safety. Mengele. Eichmann. Stangl. Müller. You know the list as well as I.” He fixed Bormann with a piercing stare. “Eva must be kept safe. She must reach asylum in South America. Argentina. She must give birth to my son! And you, Bormann, must assure her safety. If. If the treasure I offer you is ever to be yours.”
    Bormann thought fast. He had, himself, gathered quite a fortune. He had, of course, had access to the special funds hoarded in a secret account in the Reichsbank in Berlin. Realized from the jewelry, the currency, precious stones, and other valuables confiscated from the Jews before they were sent to extermination camps. And from the gold extracted from their teeth, once there. He had been able to dip into this fund, secretly, and build a fortune for himself. A great fortune, safe in Argentina.
    But nothing like the wealth Hitler was offering him.
    He drew himself up.
    “I would protect Fräulein Braun and her child with my life, mein Führer. Whatever the circumstances,” Bormann pledged fervently.
    “Of course.”
    Bormann was elated. If Eva Braun