Even sitting in his favorite cafe in the shade with a dusty breeze blowing was unbearably hot. The dust seemed to swirl and float in the air, each grain that touched him sticking to his sweaty skin wherever it was exposed. Horst Schumann’s favorite cafe was a tiny porch in front of a two-story mud structure with dry wooden posts holding up a type of thatched pagoda that looked as if it would fall on him at any moment. There was nothing in this city that had improved significantly after the formation of the Second Republic. The local savages still lived in squalor and foreigners were still treated with hatred and violence, but the Arian races, the British who had colonized, the Germans who were also white and so were treated well, and other groups like the occasional Italian, Swede, or Noorse, were treated like royalty. Of course they were. They rightfully held all of the money and were the only source of class in the country.
Edward Akufo-Addo, who was President of Ghana in the previous regime, was deposed by coup d’état as was the Prime Minister, Kofi Busia. Both men, along with everyone else in the shell government were imprisoned when the British reclaimed control through its proxies in power. Horst had come to the Kejetia Market, in the Ashanti region of southern Ghana on his first day as head of the Kumasi Central Hospital located just north of the market and had returned every morning for the past few years. The local Kwame Nkrumah University of Science and Technology was in the process of taking over the hospital and it was unlikely that he would be allowed to remain in his position as Director for much longer. It would be too risky even to accept the position if it were offered to him after the incident in Khartoum, Sudan that led him to flee here.
After the war, as the Red Army marched through Auschwitz, he and Jürgen Schumer, his medical assistant, were forced to flee. Jürgen was young and of little note, so it was easy for him to disappear into nearby Hungary under an assumed name until the Allies could be overthrown by the rightful heirs of the Reich, the Arian races. Unfortunately, that never happened and the German people had been kept under the reign of the Allies who carved Germany into blocks for each country to plunder. The economy had remained in shambles until recently. Horst didn’t have the luxury of anonymity since he was one of the most famous and prestigious reproductive research doctors in the Reich. He had spent the better part of his career looking for the most effective an economical way to sterilize the Jewish race so that it would go extinct, but now it didn’t appear that this would happen in his lifetime.
In Khartoum, an old woman had recognized him and pointed him out to the authorities. That would have been the end of it, since he had the protection of the ruling family, but the woman had connections in the British Parliament and she insisted on forcing the issue with the locals who warned him they were coming before they took any action. His new life here in Kumasi was definitely a step down and he longed for the day when the Allied dogs would be run out of the Fatherland and the Arian races would take over the world.
When practicing in Auschwitz, he had the great opportunity to have the blessing and power of the Reich and Adolph Hitler himself to conduct well-documented experiments, but when the Allies moved in, his team was not able to take all the records with them. Much of their research had been lost or fallen into the hands of the Allies who then proved what hypocrites they were by using the research to continue experimenting, but this time on willing subjects like those with gender disorders. Instead of calling them what they were, deranged perverts, they made up medical sounding terms like transsexual. If it were up to him, they would all be put down. Why would any society accept and even encourage this sort of rotting from within? It was just beyond his way of thinking.
After some coffee, he picked up the letter he had received the day before. It had taken longer this time because of all the upheaval going on in the local government. The network of operatives that kept the Nazi political party alive had to be very careful when transporting letters and goods around the globe. Though they had the assistance of many powerful groups like the Vatican and many of the ruling parties throughout Africa and South America, some places were still risky like America and Europe.
I was able to pay an extended visit to my mother, your dear sister, recently. She is doing well but is unhappy about the family matters we discussed. We have not come to an agreement yet about what we should do with the family properties, but one fortuitous coincidence will entertain you greatly. If you recall the family picture you showed me all those years ago, I have located one of the three long-lost sons that used to go camping together. Albie was very happy to see me, but unfortunately, I was not able to stay very long and we did not get to settle things between us. Please let me know if I should pursue this further. He would very much like to hear from you too.
Mama Freda is so happy to know that you are looking out for her, but she would also like to know what to do about the family properties, since she has little experience in such matters. Hopefully, with your wisdom, she will come to find a new path.
Even in his fifties, the man was nearly as useless as he was in his twenties. At least he had discovered something Horst had not anticipated. One of the three boys they had been experimenting on toward the end of his tenure at Auschwitz was now located and, though Jürgen had attempted to eliminate him, he was unsuccessful and may have been identified. He had also confirmed that this woman, Dr. Freda Dudek, was indeed using financial records to locate him in Ghana, so that question was now answered. What he did not know yet was why. Horst would have to deal with Jürgen eventually, but that could wait until he either made another serious mistake or outlived his usefulness. The problem now was how to find out more about this Dr. Dudek. He would write back to Jürgen later, but the letter would have to be carefully formulated to transmit the necessary information recoded into a family letter. Since Jürgen had been forced to return to Frankfurt after his failed attempt to kill the patient, Albert, who could identify him, they would have a little time to regroup, but he was starting to wonder if funding Jürgen’s activities in Cologne were a mistake. Perhaps he should have chosen someone else.
He folded the blue postal tissue gently and stuffed it into his breast pocket before leaving money for the cafe owner and his wife. As he saw Horst leaving, he beckoned to his wife to go collect the money before a street urchin could steal it and as she rushed to the rickety table, she bowed and put her hands together in an overly-grateful, nearly prostrate degree of thanks. Dogs were the same in any part of the world, he thought. He always left a little extra money so he would be well treated, but these people weren’t capable of the advanced thinking that were a prerequisite of social graces. He brushed some of the dust that had accumulated on his pants while he sat and joined the throng of people coming into the market. As he walked, he was careful to keep a hand in the pocket where his money was. This had the advantage of making it impossible for a pickpocket to put their hand in unnoticed, but it also indicated to a pickpocket where his money was located, so most of his money was in a money belt worn under his pants at his waist. One had to think like this in a society of thieving scavengers.
As he walked toward the hospital, he formulated his response. Certainly, Jürgen would be waiting for specific instructions, not knowing what action would yield the greatest return at the lowest risk. If he had any intelligence at all, he would have already figured this out for himself, taken action, and reported the results. It was probably a good thing that he had not. After all, how can an orderly in a mental asylum fail to kill a helpless patient? The foolishness was remarkable! So…the next step would have to either answer the question of who Dr. Dudek was or result in her death, which would be unfortunate if they did not discover who else was involved in tracking him. In any case, he would have to be more careful when moving money around and Jürgen would not be able to receive any more funds through official channels since that appeared to be the method they used to find him after escaping Khartoum.
(Copyright 2020 by Phillip Johnson. Written and reproduced May 21, 2020 by Tom Loesch with permission. All rights reserved.)