The Manuscript I the Secret by Blanca Miosi, Gretchen Abernathy Page A

wrap-around columned porch. Together with the well-manicured lawn bursting with geraniums, it was very clear what kind of people lived here. Claudio got out of the truck and approached the massive wooden front door.
    A stocky gray-haired man appeared in the entryway as if expecting his arrival.
    “Herr Alban Krug? Good afternoon. I’ve come on behalf of Alejandro von Eckstein,” Claudio said, holding out two cards. “I’m Claudio Contini-Massera.”
    Alban Krug’s face began to relax as he read the cards.
    “Come in,” he invited, stepping to the side. “What can I do for you?”
    “What a beautiful home, Herr Krug,” Claudio observed, sidestepping the German’s question.
    “The weather is good to us here, and the countryside, as you can see, is a piece of paradise,” Krug answered with a wide smile. “Are you interested in some property?”
    Claudio weighed his words carefully. He gathered that the bartender had alerted Krug about his arrival.
    “I am here on a special mission. I need to locate Josef Mengele.” Claudio took the risk of being direct.
    “I don’t know him,” Krug responded brusquely.
    “Mr. von Eckstein assured me you could give me some indication of his whereabouts. I absolutely must see him. I am not a Nazi hunter, I assure you. Just the opposite.”
    “And supposing that you were a Nazi hunter, as you say, you wouldn’t let on to it, now would you? Let me make one thing clear: I am not and have never been wrapped up in anything having to do with the Nazis.”
    Claudio was silent. His eyes took in the entire house looking for something to grab hold of, and he landed on a display case full of huge blue morpho butterflies. Krug shifted uncomfortably in his chair, pulled out a cigarette, and lit it.
    “You are correct, Herr Krug. Hypothetically speaking, if I told you I was the only person who could help Dr. Josef Mengele get out of trouble, would you help me find him?”
    “Hypothetically speaking, perhaps. Regardless, I don’t see why you’ve come to me.”
    “Mr. Werner Jung and Mr. Alejandro von Eckstein, who helped the doctor obtain Paraguayan citizenship, had no qualms about sending me your way. You can read the cards for yourself, Herr Krug.”
    The German sighed and released a stream of cigarette smoke. Finally, he caved just a bit.
    “Why didn’t you try his family, in Lundsburg?”
“They wouldn’t have helped me. And since I’m here, any help you can offer would be of great service.”
    Krug seemed loathe to comply. He tugged at his chin and, after thinking it over, decided he would have to make inquiries first.
    “I need to make a few calls.... I’m not even sure Mr. Mengele is still in Paraguay. Anyhow, if I find anything out, I’ll let you know in a few days.”
“Much obliged, Herr Krug. I’m sure that Mr. Stroessner will be very grateful.”
    Krug peered at him with an inscrutable expression, as if the president’s name unsettled him.
    “There’s no need for intimidation. If I find anything out, I’ll let you know.”
    “You misunderstand me, Herr Krug. I’m not trying to intimidate you. In all seriousness, the president is very keen on my finding Mengele,” Claudio hazarded.
    “Where are you staying?”
    “I’ve only just arrived, and I came straight here.”
    “Come back in two days. Maybe I’ll know something by then.”
    Back in the town, Claudio found a room at an inn. He put his things away, except for the documents which he kept with him in the truck, and went out again to see the area. After another visit to the bar, he returned to his room and stayed there until the two days had passed. He returned to Krug’s estate, and, as soon as he saw Krug’s face, he knew there was news.
    “Mr. Contini, Herr Josef Mengele is currently living in Brazil. From what I could gather, he has a small house on the outskirts of Sao Paulo, in a neighborhood called El Dorado. But I think you should get in contact first with Mr. Bossert.” Krug handed him