The Marks Of Cain Part 47

'But everyone forgot about...the Kellermans?' she said.

Simon nodded: 'Yes. The Kellerman dynasty in far-off Namibia. They had been close to Fischer; Fischer stayed in touch with them after the war. Indeed some of Fischer's n.a.z.i colleagues fled to Namibia, after the war, and were protected by Kellerman Namcorp.'

David gazed around the a.s.sembled faces. 'But what was in it for the Kellermans?'

Angus spoke: 'I can provide that that answer. Truth is, the Kellermans were interested in the Fischer results answer. Truth is, the Kellermans were interested in the Fischer results for the Jewish people for the Jewish people. Old Samuel Kellerman was a strict believer in Leviticus 25, that Jews were allowed by G.o.d to take slaves from the inferior Gentiles.'

Amy protested, 'But Nathan Nathan?'

'Sure, yup, the younger Kellermans were different...they may have dispensed with these superst.i.tions, but they were still ardent Zionists. Determined to create and then preserve Israel as a homeland for Jews.'

'So?'

Angus gazed Amy's way. 'Think about Israel, Amy. You're Jewish, you know this stuff. Through the 1970s, 80s, and 90s, demographics have been pointing to one outcome in Israel: at some point Jews are gonna be outnumbered by non-Jews even in their Jewish homeland. And then Israel will no longer be safe: and maybe another Holocaust will ensue.'

Simon interrupted: 'The Fischer results promised a philosophical escape route. If it could be proved that Jews were a different subspecies to ordinary gentiles or at least headed that way that would give a justification for treating non-Jews, within Israel, in a discriminatory fashion. Why should a different kind kind of man get the vote in a homeland reserved for Jews?' of man get the vote in a homeland reserved for Jews?'

Amy shook her head. 'h.o.m.o judaicus? Shameful! Shameful!'

'But it makes sense,' Angus answered her, calmly. 'Universal human rights do not apply if humans are not universally the same. not universally the same. If the Jews are provably different, superior, then they deserve provably different and superior rights. If you really want to f.u.c.king push the point.' If the Jews are provably different, superior, then they deserve provably different and superior rights. If you really want to f.u.c.king push the point.'

'Therefore,' Simon added, 'the Kellermans wanted the Fischer results for their Zionist purposes or, failing that, to repeat the, ah, experiments and get the same data. Right?'

'Uh-huh.' Angus was gesturing, in the lamplight. 'But the first option was closed. No one would tell them where the data were hidden. That left the second option. Science. Redoing the experiments. But it has taken seventy years for science to catch up with the n.a.z.i discoveries at Gurs, and begin to prove them, all over again. And even now, when science has caught up, there are still forces ranged against the whole concept of racial differences and eugenics. The Human Genome Diversity Project at Stanford was shut by pressure from western governments and from the church.'

'So the Kellermans switched to GenoMap.'

'Exactly. The experiments we were doing at GenoMap were directly directly funded and abetted by Kellerman Namcorp. That old n.a.z.i doctor, Dresler, fled to Namibia in the 90s, after he was uncovered by David's father. And he forwarded advice to GenoMap on how to reproduce the Fischer results. He even suggested blood testing the same people: Gurs survivors Cagots especially.' funded and abetted by Kellerman Namcorp. That old n.a.z.i doctor, Dresler, fled to Namibia in the 90s, after he was uncovered by David's father. And he forwarded advice to GenoMap on how to reproduce the Fischer results. He even suggested blood testing the same people: Gurs survivors Cagots especially.'

Angus continued: 'And you know what? This plan would have succeeded, if Fazackerly hadn't blabbed. At a conference in France, he boasted he was going to successfully repeat the experiments of Eugen Fischer at Gurs. I was there. It was mortifying. And I guess that's when the Catholic church was alerted, and began taking more serious steps. They recruited the Society of Pius X: because, as we all know, they are some zealous f.u.c.kers. And because they already knew the secrets of Gurs, so it involved no widening of the circle of knowledge. Their roots go back to Vichy France.'

Simon briefly glanced David's way, then looked at his notes.

'And sympathizers with the Society had already killed off previous attempts to unearth the Gurs secrets. David's parents David's parents when they came to France, innocently seeking the truth of the Martinez's, ah, Basque ancestry...' when they came to France, innocently seeking the truth of the Martinez's, ah, Basque ancestry...'

Amy interrupted, her voice fierce in the flickering shadows. 'And the Society was already using the most ruthless operatives to do this work: ETA terrorists like Miguel. Perfect! A highly trained killer, a devout Catholic. And he had a hatred concealed self-hatred for Cagots.'

Angus had returned to one of the cases. He lifted out a doc.u.ment, embossed with several black swastikas, like rigid and futurist lauburus lauburus.

'It also makes sense...' David said, hesitantly. He was trying not to think of his parents; trying not to think of Granddad; trying not to think. He stammered his words. 'Using him. I mean Miguel. The Wolf. Cause he knows the crucial area: the Basque Country, where many Cagots and Gurs survivors lived...'

Simon concluded the story.

'The murders began anew. A number of Gurs survivors were deliberately killed. The few remaining provable Cagots were killed, some of them simply because they were Cagots.' He gazed around the dimly lamplit s.p.a.ce, and closed his notebook. 'And that is the tragedy of the Cagots, isn't it? They had to go. They had to go. They were living proof of human speciation, the speciation that might one day happen to the Jews. But take away the Cagots, at least anyone of provable Cagot ancestry, and the evidence for speciation is gone. Remove the Cagots, and the Fischer experiments can never be repeated. Catholic doctrine is safe. Multiracial democracy is safe. And so the last remaining Cagots had to die.' They were living proof of human speciation, the speciation that might one day happen to the Jews. But take away the Cagots, at least anyone of provable Cagot ancestry, and the evidence for speciation is gone. Remove the Cagots, and the Fischer experiments can never be repeated. Catholic doctrine is safe. Multiracial democracy is safe. And so the last remaining Cagots had to die.'

They all sat back.

'That's about it,' said Simon. 'Jesus Christ.'

David spoke: 'OK. We need to go. We got the answer. We have some leverage. We're gonna run out of light...' We're gonna run out of light...'

Angus was clutching that last doc.u.ment.

'David. You should see this.'

The dread crept through David's soul. The moment had come.

'Yes. No. No. Why?' Why?'

'I found it. A name caught my eye.' He paused. 'Martinez...'

He offered the paper under the torchlight.

David grabbed the single sheet and read it, avidly, his hand shaking, a tightening sensation in his chest. He read it twice. He looked at Amy, and then at Angus, and then back at the list of names. He had enough German to glean the meaning; his mind swayed with the shock. His own hand was shaking now. He handed it back to Angus. And said: 'Read it out...'

Nairn carefully took the doc.u.ment. And he read it out: it was the story Jose hadn't told David...couldn't tell him. tell him.

'Your grandfather...thought he was a Cagot. But of course he wasn't. It was a lie. It says it all here. After a year in the camp, he was seen as a troublemaker, a teenage Basque rebel. So the Germans humiliated him, and silenced him...by putting him in the Cagot section. The barracks of the hated pariahs. They convinced him he was of Cagot blood. Yet he was Basque. Yet he was Basque. And so, David, are you. You are a Basque. And so, David, are you. You are a Basque.'

David looked at Amy. He felt the most intense relief, a kind of shameful joy. But her face was strained, and tense: he saw no joy there, no gladness, he saw distraction and fear.

And then his own joy vanished, replaced by an equally intense terror. Provoked by just one word.

'Epa!'

49.

Simon watched, aghast. Miguel flashed a brief smile, and a gun, at Angus and David. The terrorist was surrounded by men, carrying weapons, cans of gasoline and flat silver packages. Explosives maybe. The men set to work: in the shadows at the edge of the vault.

They had been so engrossed in their unravelling of the story, they hadn't even heard the stealthy approach of the Wolf and his men. And now here he was.

Smiling at Amy.

'Amy. Esti. Muchas gracias, senorita Esti. Muchas gracias, senorita.'

She was gazing back at him; her voice was an eerie monotone. 'Yes...I did...what I promised.'

'You did.'

Miguel laughed a richly sad laugh. David felt the anger surging inside, like an oncoming storm: 'You. Amy? You? You betrayed us?'

She didn't turn his way. She couldn't even bear to look at him.

Miguel strode close to David. His breath was sweet, and fragranced with red wine. It mingled with the reek of the petrol, that Miguel's silent men were splashing over the wooden cases. David was instantly reminded: the stench of the bonfire in Namibia. When Amy saved him. And now she had betrayed him.

Miguel nodded, almost sympathetically. 'Yes, of course, she betrayed you. She loves me. me. She always did. What is your life to her...' She always did. What is your life to her...'

David ignored the terrorist; instead he spoke, angrily, ferociously, at Amy. She was hunched and averting her eyes, maybe crying.

'So it was you? All along? Who told them where we were going? Namibia? You f.u.c.king b.i.t.c.h '

Miguel intervened: 'Enough!'

David swore once again at Amy, who was now deep in the shadows.

Miguel's smile faded.

'Do not blame blame her. She is a woman. her. She is a woman. Arrotz herri, otso herri Arrotz herri, otso herri. And besides, Davido, she did the correct thing, the moral choice, she is correct. Because I am the good guy. The hero. We are the good guys. Do you not understand? We are on the side of the good.' We are on the side of the good.' Miguel's eye was faintly twitching. Miguel's eye was faintly twitching. ' 'If the information in this cellar was ever to become known by others, then nations, races, tribes...would be forced into war. Humans who are not human? One race provably superior to another? Imagine Imagine. Human species fighting human species. Racial hierarchies confirmed. n.a.z.i science vindicated. The democratic multiracial world in ruins.'

Angus spoke up: 'But you can't stop science. One day a lab will repeat these results on genomic diversity, it is inevitable '

'Is it, Nairn?' Miguel swivelled, turning on the scientist. 'Is it true? We closed down the Stanford Project. We closed down GenoMap. The Cagots are all dead, so the Fischer experiments can never be repeated. We have won. We have to win, or do you want us to be like animals, like rats, fighting each other, fighting always? Do you want that?...Umeak! You are children!'

He glanced along the vault; his men had set the charges, the flat, sinister grey packages were tucked snug against the walls. The crates, doused in petrol, were ready to burn.

'Good. We are nearly done. Bai. Bai.'

Was there any way of escape? David urgently counted the number of men: there were seven or eight of them. Armed, dressed in dark clothes, and quietly efficient. Finishing their task.

There was no escape. And what did it matter anyway? And what did it matter anyway? They were finally cornered; they had lost; and he, David Martinez, was going to die, betrayed by the woman he loved. Even as he discovered the truth. A generous and bitter irony. They were finally cornered; they had lost; and he, David Martinez, was going to die, betrayed by the woman he loved. Even as he discovered the truth. A generous and bitter irony.

'Are we ready?'

One man turned.

'Bai, Miguel.' Miguel.'

'Excellent.' The Wolf turned back to the captives. 'I must also thank you for helping us locate the Fischer results. People, agencies governments governments have been searching for these for many decades.' have been searching for these for many decades.'

Miguel gazed first at Simon, then Angus, then David, as if he wanted to gain their entire attention for his following words, which he enunciated very carefully.

'Of course, you thought it was the church, didn't you? You realized it must be the Society of Pius the Tenth, and therefore you decided the entire church was involved, behind the scenes. The Holy Church.' He shook his head, with a contemptuous smile. 'Well, maybe we have a little help, some cooperation at a certain level...but do you really think Rome would have the money and the means and the will and the savagery to do all this, to take all these lives, mmm? Cardinals with guns and missiles? Really? Bai? Bai? Does that really make sense? Do you want to know where our money actually came from?' Does that really make sense? Do you want to know where our money actually came from?'

The lamplight was dim, the air was stale. Miguel continued: 'The money came from much higher than that. Let us just say...Washington, and London, and Paris, and Jerusalem, and Beijing, and, of course, Berlin. Such a lot of money and a.s.sistance from Berlin. There There is one government which sees it as its duty and, yes, its destiny, to make sure n.a.z.ism is never reborn in any form. They would do almost anything to rid Germany of her shame, and save the world from scientific racism. They would recruit any zealots or terrorists, for instance...They would make sure these zealots worked at a distance, in the darkness. So as to give everyone...in that succulent English phrase "plausible deniability".' is one government which sees it as its duty and, yes, its destiny, to make sure n.a.z.ism is never reborn in any form. They would do almost anything to rid Germany of her shame, and save the world from scientific racism. They would recruit any zealots or terrorists, for instance...They would make sure these zealots worked at a distance, in the darkness. So as to give everyone...in that succulent English phrase "plausible deniability".'

He stepped back. 'Bai...David and you...Angus Nairn...and you, the journalist. Quinn. Obviously we cannot let anyone survive. Consequently, you will be buried in here, along with the Fischer results, forever. Nola bizi, hala hil. Nola bizi, hala hil. The pa.s.sage will be concreted. The barroom demolished and the pa.s.sage filled in.' He held up a box, the trigger for the explosives. 'You will be in the most impressive of tombs. Which is nice for you.' He smiled in the torchbeams. 'But dead, nonetheless.' The pa.s.sage will be concreted. The barroom demolished and the pa.s.sage filled in.' He held up a box, the trigger for the explosives. 'You will be in the most impressive of tombs. Which is nice for you.' He smiled in the torchbeams. 'But dead, nonetheless.'

Even as his last words faded, Amy stepped out of the shadows. Her face was alive, now, alive and angry: 'Miguel, you said you'd let them go.' go.'

'Mazeltov. Of course course I lied.' I lied.'

'But Miguel you said you'd spare them, for me you promised '

She stared at the terrorist. He scowled.

'You think I love you that much? My little piglet? The wh.o.r.e that f.u.c.ked with the Amerikako? Eh?'

Amy's face was uplit by the paraffin lamp. There was a glow there, a pleading in her expression. She stumbled over her words.

'But I never slept...with David.'

The statement was bizarre. Why was she saying this? Miguel dismissed her with a contemptuous wave. She repeated: 'I never slept with him, Miguel. And this is important...Because...because...' Miguel. And this is important...Because...because...'

Amy faltered, her hand to her face. She was trying to say something, and failing. But David could see, in the shadows: her other hand was gently placed on her stomach. Protectively.

With a rush of anguish, David realized. 'No.'

His word was so solitary, yet so firm, they all turned to him.

He spoke again.

'You're pregnant?'

Miguel stepped forward. David repeated, staring at Amy: 'You're pregnant. And you know it's his. You know it's his his?'

This final torment was too much. Amy's face was streaming tears. She nodded and took hold of the terrorist's arm, then she pulled Miguel's large dark hand to her stomach, and she placed his palm flat against her belly.

'It's yours, Miguel. It is yours.'

David's resignation was now tinged with the most horrible tragedy. She had betrayed him, betrayed them all, and now this? He looked left and right, at Simon and Angus. They were both waiting, staring at Miguel, at Amy, at the trigger for the explosives.

'So I have a son...' Miguel's voice was a rich whisper, hoa.r.s.e and jubilant. 'So I have a son! A child. A daughter.' His eyes shone. 'The Garovillos live...the name lives on...?'

He left her side, and reached to a crate, and took up his gun.

'Amy, just for you, I will merely shoot them. A better death than being buried alive. Hauxe de lorra! Hauxe de lorra! I will kill your friends now. To save them pain. They do not want to be buried alive.' I will kill your friends now. To save them pain. They do not want to be buried alive.'

Miguel gestured with the gun at David. The other men were now virtually done in their tasks and standing to attention behind Miguel, hands behind their backs. The charges were set. Ready and waiting.

'Kneel!'

David shook his head. The gun insisted.

'Kneel!'

'f.u.c.k you.'

Miguel went to David, and put a rough strong hand on his shoulder, and forced him to the floor. He had no choice. The gun was inches from his ear. His knees slowly buckled and he sank to the concrete, kneeling in the gloom.

Amy was staring at David. Her eyes glistening. He cursed her with a glowering stare. He felt pure hatred for her now. Was she enjoying this? Getting off on this? Had she never loved him ever? Had it always been Miguel?

Miguel crouched down directly in front of David. He put the pistol three inches from the condemned man's eyes. The terrorist's final smile was a pout of appreciation, like a gourmet's air kiss.