PARADOX - Chapter 33

Chapter 33

May 6, 2012 – Near Mount Fitz Roy – Argentina



Daria was exhausted and felt as if she had been flying forever. She was continually hoping for rescue during the trip from Munich to some lonely island in the Atlantic Ocean. She hoped that Monday would somehow find out where she was taken and intercept her before the private jet took off from the island.

They flew across the Atlantic and landed at (Ezeiza) Ministro Pistarini International Airport in Buenos Aires. At least that was what the signs located around the airport read. They disembarked from the jet and quickly transferred to a propeller driven plane, which took flight immediately after she had been stuffed into a hard and smelly seat.

Several uncomfortable hours later they landed at a nondescript little airport in a town whose name she did not know and couldn’t even guess. Again, she was hastily ushered onto a helicopter that was setting on the tarmac with the rotors already spinning. And now, they were now about to land in the middle of nowhere.

Although Dorbec had been a gentleman throughout the lengthy and exhausting trip, eager to see to her needs and addressing her with a bright smile and annoying respect, she knew she was a captive and replied to him in clipped responses, if at all. The helicopter landed with a bellow of wind and the pilots immediately cut power to the engine.

Dorbec waited for the rotors to wind down and the swirling dust to subside before opening the door and stepping down to a well-manicured lawn. Daria brushed his proffered hand aside and gingerly climbed from the helicopter. The heat was cloying, with a sense of heavy humidity, completely unlike the crisp fresh air of the Germany she was accustomed to. There was a slight smell of gas fumes lingering from the helicopter. As she turned in the direction Dorbec pointed, she was surprised to see a huge and magnificent home, built in the Bavarian style of architecture. The place could easily cover an acre or more. There was also a scattering of outbuildings, some half the size of the house, all equally decorative and beautiful.

“Your villa,” Dorbec smiled. “This will be your home for a while.”

Again, Daria did not respond. A captive was still a captive, even if the surroundings were magnificent.

“You are free to go wherever you please,” Dorbec added. “I must remind you though, the closest villa is over a hundred kilometers away through very harsh and dangerous terrain in many areas.”

Daria turned to her left to follow a small blue stream meandering off towards some hills. Her breath caught in her chest at the incredibly beautiful scene before her.

“That is Mount Fitz Roy in the distance,” Dorbec smiled. “The Cerro and Laguna Torre is in the foreground. It is a beautiful scene, nous pas?”

Daria could not answer. The natural beauty of the towering mountains captivated her attention. The place reminded her of the Alps, but with a subtle majestic difference. It was a scene that belonged on canvas for the world to admire, although it would take a master artist to capture the grandeur and beauty. Finally, at Dorbec’s insistence, she turned and quietly followed him towards the villa.

Just as they neared the building, two massive ten-foot doors opened and a man dressed in an elegant white suit strode out followed closely by an entire retinue of women and men clad as maids, butlers and chefs. As the staff arranged themselves in a military style line, the man halted and removed his white hat and bowed.

“Welcome Fraulein Wolff,” he said in flawless German. “We are honored to have you as our guest. The staff is at you complete disposal and I am here to assist in any thing you need.”

Daria could not believe the audacity of the man. Here she was, abducted and flown against her will halfway around the world, and the man acted as if she was her Royal Highness or some such. “A return trip to Germany would be nice,” she smiled at the staff.

“Unfortunately, that is the one thing I cannot offer,” the man shrugged. “I am Señor Juan Ramone Louis Felix d’Amador. I am the Director General of the Villa, you may call me Juan.”

The incongruity of the situation amused Daria. Whoever was behind this charade was at least making an attempt towards placating her. This Latin gentleman and grand villa was something out of a dream. She was too tired and dirty to take offense at the propriety of the man, so she bowed her head in rolled her eyes in submission.

The interior of the house was even more glamorous than the outside. Her trained eye spotted many priceless objets d’art, and a magnificent staircase, the size of a small bridge, led off the grand foyer to an open balcony overlooking an expansive sitting room. Decorative fountains and marble tile highlighted the luxury of the room along with Roman statues and Italian frescoes. It was also obvious that central heat and air was piped in through hidden openings.

“I will show you to your room so you can refresh yourself,” Juan pointed to the sweeping stairs. “Evening meal will be served at nineteen hundred hours, so you have plenty of time for a soothing bath and if desired a complete massage. Senorita Consuela is at your disposal.”

She followed him up the grand staircase following lustrous mahogany balusters to a room overlooking a small pool of goldfish on the atrium floor below. Juan opened the doors to an expansive suite of rooms. “Make yourself at home,” he offered a gleaming white smile. “In the closets you will find a large selection of clothing in your size.” He bowed and slowly turned to leave. “By the way,” he stated as if he’d forgotten. “This was your mother’s room.”

The sudden knowledge startled Daria. She had never known her mother. She didn’t even possess childhood memories to shadow her thoughts. Daria slowly walked around the massive suite taking in the beauty and elegance of the décor. She felt like she was in a dream world. As she entered a setting room she noticed a portrait prominently displayed on one wall. The superbly done painting was of a young woman with wavy blond hair entwined with auburn highlights. Her eyes were sky blue and she had a pleasing pixie look to her casual Germanic features. Daria instantly knew she was looking at a painting of her mother.

The attendant Consuela standing behind her nodded her head as if reading Daria’s mind. “Frau Klara Wolff,” the girl whispered. “La hija de Hitler.”

“The daughter of Hitler,” Daria whispered. “My mother.” Her mind was racing. Too much was falling into place all of a sudden. One minute she was enjoying a common existence, concerned about work, worried about paying bills. The next she was engaged to the man she had secretly loved for years. Then the shocking revelation that she was not who she thought she was. The gold, the search, the abduction, now she was in a magnificent villa in a scrumptious suite staring at a painting of a mother she never knew she had. It was almost too much for her mind to digest.

Daria glided slowly down the wide stairs wearing an elegant white evening gown. She had spent the afternoon in a whirling Jacuzzi followed by a lingering hot bath. When she opened her closet to find something to wear for dinner, she was shocked by the size of the room. It was twice as large as her apartment and filled with hundreds of outfits, shoes and accessories. Everything she pulled from the shelves or off their hangers fit her perfectly. It was obvious that her visit to the villa had been planned and expected.

Both Dorbec and Juan met her at the bottom of the grand staircase. They were attired in perfectly tailored tuxedos. Daria expected Juan to be dapper, as his cultured Latin heritage demanded. However, Dorbec was strikingly handsome and possessed an unexpected and refined demeanor.

Instead of guiding her to the massive dining table in a side room large enough to hold a dance, they led her to a small comfortable table in a decorative alcove that was meant for no more than four or five diners. The table was professionally set with elaborate china and diffused candle lighting. A bottle of German Trockenbeerenauslese Cabinet wine was opened for breathing. The date on the bottle, 1937, surprised her. Daria was even more shocked at the emblem on the elegant china set before her. In the center of each the plates was a prominent Nazi Swastika.

Juan quickly noted her reaction to the dinner wear. While not repulsed, she did appear slightly uncomfortable. “This dinner service was brought here from Germany in 1945. It would please me if you consented to use it?”

Daria smiled at Dorbec as he pulled her chair out so she could be seated. “A gentleman and a rascal,” she noted. “Why, Senior d’Amador, would an ancient setting of dinner wear offend me?”

“Juan. Please call me Juan. Your grandfather left it here when he moved. It was his wish that it remain safe and useful.”

“So. It is true. Adolph Hitler did not die in Berlin in 1945?” Daria surmised.

“The Führer, your grandfather, came to Peninsula Valdez in a convoy of two submarines seventeen days after the fall of Berlin. He initially went to stay in the Huemules Valley in White Lake, near the Chilean border. This lasted a few years and his final move was here, near Mount Fitz Roy. He said this place reminded him so much of the Berghof near Berchtesgaden.”

“And from here he went to?”

“This you will soon know,” Juan evasively replied. “I have been requested to accommodate you here until you are called for.”

“Called for?” Daria canted her face towards Dorbec as if he would be the one to answer.

“Your journey in not over.” Juan signaled for the chef to come to the table. “But alas, I am not at liberty to provide you with your final destination. We will thoroughly enjoy your company as long as you are our guest here.”

Daria turned to Dorbec and took a sip of her wine. “What grand role do you play in this cloak and dagger operation?”

“My men and I are strictly here for your protection Mademoiselle. There are those who would not benefit from you reaching your final destination.”

Daria grinned. “Meaning there are others out to get me?”

Dorbec gave her a huge smile and tipped his glass in a toast. “Au futur.”

Juan added his glass to the toast. “Yes, to the future.”

What future? Daria thought. Can there be a future for the granddaughter of Adolph Hitler?