The Seventh Secret (15 page)

Dr. Thiel opened a drawer beside him and pulled out a sheaf of papers and some photographic negatives. "And they dug up the two corpses again," said Emily. Dr. Thiel nodded, as he studied his notes. "Yes. The bodies were still wrapped in blankets. The Russians placed the bodies in wooden boxes, and sent them by truck to a field hospital in Berlin-Buch, a suburb of Berlin to the north. Here the extensive autopsies were begun by Soviet specialists."

"On the bodies?" asked Emily. "But there were no bodies."

"They weren't bodies in the strictest sense," replied Dr. Thiel. "These were actually remains of bodies. Let me read from the Soviet report. Concerning the male corpse, 'In view of the fact that the corpse is greatly damaged, it is difficult to gauge the age of the deceased. Presumably it lies between fifty and sixty years. The corpse is severely charred and smells of burned flesh. Part of the cranium is missing. Parts of the occipital bone, the left temporal bone, and the upper and lower jaws are preserved. The skin on the face and body is completely missing; only remnants of charred muscles are preserved.' Dr. Thiel looked up. "No skin, therefore no fingerprints available." Dr. Thiel consulted the papers in his hand. "The next report. 'In view of the fact that the body parts are extensively charred, it is impossible to describe the features of the dead woman. The age of the dead woman lies between thirty and forty years.' Again, no fingerprints. However, the Soviet specialists had, they decided, an equally dependable means of identification. They possessed the upper and lower jawbones of both corpses, with teeth and dentures intact."

"Exactly what did they have to work from?"

"The male's upper and lower bridges. One had an old-fashioned window crown made of yellow metal, gold, that fitted on a molar. Then there was a gold bridge from Eva Braun's jawbone. The Soviet interpreter, Yelena Rzhevskaya, was able to run down Fräulein Käthe Heusemann, who had been assistant to Hitler's dentist,

Dr. Hugo Blaschke, and Fritz Echtmann, the dental technician who had made the bridges. Fräulein Heusemann led the investigators to Dr. Blaschke's hospital office in the ruins of the Chancellery. There the last X rays of Hitler's and Braun's teeth were located, and these were compared to the bridges from the corpses that the Soviets kept in an old cigar box inside a satchel. The actual bridges matched the earlier X rays of Hitler's and Braun's teeth. While the Soviet Forensic Medical Commission required only ten matching points for positive identification, the commission claimed to have found twenty-six matching points. From this forensic autopsy, the Soviets announced on July 9, 1945, that they had finally found the remains of Adolf Hitler and Eva Braun."

"But you disagree," said Emily. "You do not believe they found Hitler and Braun. Why?"

"Because I, too, was one of Hitler's personal dentists. When Hitler no longer trusted Dr. Blaschke with certain specialized work, he brought me in. He wanted no problem with Dr. Blaschke, so my role was kept secret. As a consequence, since my dental work was unknown to others, I was not interrogated by the Soviets. I managed to obtain copies of the reports in which the Soviets explained their positive identification. I was able to compare their findings with my own work on Hitler. The bridges were the same with one minute difference. When I adjusted Hitler's bridges, I had added a tiny almost invisible clasp to Hitler's upper plate to make it fit snugly on the gold crown. This tiny clasp was not on the bridge that the Soviets had, according to their autopsy reports. This made me suspicious of what the Russians had found."

"But maybe your device on the bridge melted away," Emily speculated.

Dr. Thiel gestured impatiently. "No, no, impossible. The clasp device was gold. If it had burned, the entire bridge would have melted. No, I feel certain that the male corpse that the Russians identified as Hitler was a double, with dentures redone to match Hitler's own, but my added device was missing. However, if the body that was cremated was that of a Hitler double, I was left with a question. If that was a fake Hitler, what had happened to the real Hitler?"

"Is that why you suggested to my father that he dig in the garden of the
Führerbunker
again?"

"I suggested that he should search one last time for two pieces of evidence—another jawbone with another dental bridge, the very one I fixed for Hitler, the real one. If you, Fräulein
 
Ashcroft, found that, you would know that Hitler had died and been cremated as so many claim."

"Dr. Thiel, that is only one thing to look for. You said there were two. What is the other?"

Dr. Thiel was shuffling through his papers. He held up one sheet. "See this?"

Emily moved closer. It was a crude pen sketch that resembled some kind of cameo bearing a man's face. "What is that?" she asked.

"The second piece of evidence you must search for if you are allowed to dig in the garden. It is a cameo that Hitler wore on a chain around his neck, on his chest actually. Probably no one but Eva, who slept with him, knew that he wore it. I happened to see it quite by accident. The last time I did dental surgery on Hitler, I put him under a general anesthetic. First, to make him more comfortable, I opened the top button of his shirt. There, against his body, on his chest, lay this cameo, obviously a good-luck piece."

"What was it—whose face in the cameo?"

"You know the oil painting that Hitler kept with him wherever he traveled for six years, the one that hung above his desk in the
Führerbunker
right up to the end, the one he gave to his private pilot Bauer to carry away to safety before the Russians came? This cameo was a reproduction of the face in his favorite oil."

"The face of Frederick the Great."

Dr. Thiel's long countenance offered a complimentary smile. "One and the same. We are told that Hitler died and was cremated while fully clothed. If so, he would still have been wearing this cameo beneath his tunic and shirt when he was buried. No one had time to look. Yet the Soviets never found it, probably never even knew about it. So if that was actually Hitler's body the Soviets found, the cameo would still be there lost in the rubble and dirt. If you dig, and can find either the cameo or the gold bridge I worked on, you will have found the real Adolf Hitler and be able to confirm that the Soviets were correct in assuming Hitler was cremated and buried in the garden. But in digging, you must dig more thoroughly than anyone before. If you come away empty handed, then it is very probable that Hitler did not die as the Soviets announced. You would have sound evidence that Hitler survived his supposed end and got away."

Emily had only one uncertainty. "What if Hitler took off his Frederick the Great cameo and draped its chain around the neck of his double?"

"I don't think he would have ever considered that. If he escaped, he escaped with the cameo still around his neck. It was his eternal good-luck charm. And if not the cameo, then there is still the gold bridge I prepared."

Emily's eyes held on Dr. Thiel. "So you think that I should dig?"

Dr. Thiel nodded his assent slowly. "Dig, Fräulein Ashcroft, dig deep if you want the truth. And should you come upon the truth, don't tell a soul—until you are far from Berlin and ready to tell the world. Yes, Fräulein , dig and be silent."

S
o here she was, at last, seated in the back of the air-conditioned Mercedes next to Peter Nitz and heading toward the wall that divided the two worlds of West Berlin and East Berlin.

Emily Ashcroft had awakened early, inspired by her meeting with Hitler's dentist and filled with determination to solve the mystery of Hitler's last days in hiding.

Her first move, after ordering breakfast, had been to contact a special operator and telephone Professor Otto Blaubach at his government offices in East Berlin. He had taken her call immediately, and had been the model of cordiality. Yes, he had received her letter, had been awaiting the call, and looked forward to a reunion with her. He would be delighted to see her again in East Berlin. Would two o'clock this afternoon do? Emily had told him that the time was perfect.

After breakfast, it had occurred to her that she had visited the East sector only once before, three years ago while accompanying her father. Her father had taken care of everything, and the crossover had seemed simple. This afternoon she would be alone, on her own. Her destination seemed more than ever alien, and she wanted an escort, someone familiar with East Berlin.

About to ring the concierge to ask for a private car with a knowledgeable driver, she had thought of some-one else. She had phoned the
Berliner Morgenpost
and found Peter Nitz at his desk.

"I'm looking for a guide," she had finally said. "I'm going over to East Berlin, and it makes me a little nervous. I know this is nonsense, still—"

"You're quite right," Nitz had said. "I can help you. I have someone who is trustworthy. He is an independent chauffeur named Irwin Plamp."

"Plamp?"

"Perhaps a peculiar name for you. Like a mispronouncing of plump. He is plump. He goes to East Berlin almost daily. My newspaper uses him all the time. He drives a new Mercedes sedan. When do you want him?"

"This afternoon. I have an appointment at two o'clock with Professor Otto Blaubach, the deputy minister, in his government office."

"I'll see if Plamp is free. If he isn't I'll let you know. Otherwise he will be at your hotel. I think you should be ready at one o'clock."

"Perfect."

"I assume you are trying to get permission to make an excavation in the garden near the
Führerbunker
?"

"Exactly."

"Miss Aschcroft, have you seen the
Führerbunker
since 1961 when it was enclosed by the wall?"

"Yes, I have. I saw it briefly three years ago, and I'm fairly well informed about East Germany through my father's research."

"Perhaps I can fill you in a bit more before your meeting with Professor Blaubach. I should be only too glad to act as your guide into East Berlin."

"Would you? That would be wonderful, Mr. Nitz."

And now here they were in the rear of Plamp's cool Mercedes, Nitz agreeing to address her as Emily and she agreeing to call him Peter, and they were approaching a dirty gray concrete obstruction on their left. Nitz ordered the driver to stop.

"
Die Mauer
," said Nitz. "The Wall."

"Appalling!" Emily exclaimed. She stared at the forbidding barrier of concrete.

"Hard to believe it went up overnight," said Nitz. "The Deutsche Demokratische Republik—the East German government—insisted they had built it to protect their population from Western invasion. You and I know better. In the dozen years before it was built, one-fifth of the East Berlin population left their homes and crossed over to West Germany. In fact, in the last month before the Wall went up, over one hundred forty thousand East Germans fled into West Germany. In the years since, seventy-two East Berliners have been killed trying to scale the Wall into West Germany.

"The entire wall between the two Germanys covers about one hundred twenty kilometers—for you, seventy-five miles--more than eighty-five percent of it originally solid concrete, the rest of it composed of wire fences. The actual Wall between West and East Berlin runs about forty-six kilometers or twenty-nine miles. Its average height is three point five meters, which translates to eleven and a half feet. Right here . . ."

Emily saw that they had turned and were driving parallel with the Wall. She saw again what she had seen on her previous visit. The Wall was a riot of graffiti—slogans and art—sprayed or painted on nearly every foot of it. It was topped, all the way, by some sort of concrete pipe.

"Beyond the Wall, as you have seen for yourself, over on the East German side," said Nitz, "there is still a squared-off military zone, with plenty of barbed wire and anti-tank crosses. These have deep underground supports. This so-called Frontier Security Zone has tall concrete watchtowers at intervals, each occupied by three East German soldiers, holding machine guns or using their binoculars. Inside the zone stands what is left of the
Führerbunker
. Not much to see, as you know."

Emily noted that they were slowing down as they approached a vacant lot overgrown with weeds that featured nearby a cluster of sightseeing buses, tourist cars, a flea market, a refreshment shop, a souvenir store with revolving stands of postcards, color transparencies, and maps for sale outside. Off to the right, only a dozen yards from the Wall, stood an observation structure with a platform on top, crowded with tourists peering across the Wall and into the area that was the East Berlin Security Zone.

"We will park here in the old Potsdamer Platz, if you like," said Nitz. "I thought you might want another look at the
Führerbunker
from the platform."