The crossing was proving to be laborious and miserable for the three VIP passengers. They had been at sea for more than three weeks and were only halfway through the journey.
The conditions were appalling; there was no way of showering or washing clothes and the boat stank of urine and faeces. As Küpper had predicted, the hot water and heating only worked intermittently and Hitler and Braun spent most of the time in their cabins, lying on their bunk beds, huddled under piles of blankets.
The Führer suffered from frequent bouts of seasickness and had lost nearly a stone in weight since they’d boarded the boat. The only time he’d left his cabin had been during the second week of the voyage when he spent three days in the medical area being worked on by Doctor Friedrich Hipke, the plastic surgeon, who had reluctantly joined them on board for the course of the voyage. Hitler had insisted Bormann be first to go under the knife a few days earlier, as he wanted to be sure Hipke could work safely in such a confined space.
The Berlin-based surgeon was a master of his craft, lauded by the rich and famous, who paid huge sums for his much sought-after handiwork. He specialised in facial implants, chin augmentation, rhinoplasty and eyelid surgery. Hipke enjoyed his celebrity status and was mortified when four Waffen-SS soldiers turned up unannounced at his private surgery. He was put under immediate arrest and, despite the obvious dangers of travelling through a war zone, was transported by car, under armed guard, to Kiel, where he boarded the Santa Cruz III, totally unaware of the task that lay ahead. The SS soldiers ransacked his surgery, collecting his surgical implements and medication, which were also transported onto the boat.
He was astounded when, on the second morning of the voyage, he discovered the identity of his two new clients. Without any notice, he was escorted by one of the crew members to the captain’s cabin, where Bormann and Hitler were waiting. Bormann did all the talking, presenting Hipke with a series of detailed artist drawings, which were to be used as a guide for the reconstructive surgery. He was terrified by the unsolicited commission but could only be impressed by Bormann’s extensive knowledge of plastic surgery; a level of comprehension he had never encountered before in a layman.
Eva Braun was getting restless. Bormann had rationed her visits to the Führer to twice a week, normally for no longer than an hour and, for the rest of the time, she languished in her tiny, filthy cabin. She resolved that something had to be done and made her way to Bormann’s, prepared for a face-to-face confrontation with the man who was dictating events and controlling her life. A man she sincerely loathed.
The door to Bormann’s cabin was slightly ajar and she knocked twice before entering. Unknown to Braun, he was up on deck, harassing the captain with his daily complaints about the lack of speed on the voyage. He repeatedly reminded Küpper they had a schedule that had to be kept to, no matter how unrealistic it may be, and failure was not an option. The German skipper was left under no illusions as to the consequences of a late arrival in Argentina.
The small wooden table in Bormann’s cabin was covered with typed paperwork, arranged into a number of neat piles. Braun’s curiosity got the better of her and she picked up a handful of papers from the closest one, which were clearly bank statements. The headers revealed the banks were based in South America and some of the bottom-line figures were absolutely staggering. Most of them contained millions of US dollars, and, in two cases, she spotted figures in excess of a hundred million. Her eyes flicked to another pile that contained complex architectural drawings of what she thought was likely to be her new home. She was holding the top sheet high in the air to get a better look when Bormann entered the cabin. He slammed the door and Braun jumped back in surprise, dropping the sheet onto the floor.
“Eva, I don’t appreciate you searching my cabin. As far as I’m aware, we’re not scheduled to meet today.”
Braun could sense large streaks of redness breaking out on her milky complexion and was desperately searching her brain for a suitable reply when Bormann softened his tone. “Anyway, I see you’ve been looking at the designs for the Führer’s new residence.”
She still hadn’t regained her composure and blurted out a bland remark. “It looks amazing, Martin. Will it be ready in time?”
Bormann bent down and picked up the drawing. “My dear, it will indeed be ready. All part of the plan.”
“Martin, all you and the Führer talk about is the plan. Yet neither of you ever discuss it with me. What is it and where do I fit in?”
Bormann pursed his lips and forced them into a crooked grin. “Eva, there is one essential part of the plan that you need to carry out and you cannot afford to fail.”
Braun felt her heart race as she stared into Bormann’s eyes and waited for him to continue. His voice dropped to a menacing whisper. “You need to deliver the Führer a healthy son and heir.”
Every day of the journey, Bormann talked through his strategy for the future with the Führer and kept him informed of ongoing developments inside Germany. He would crouch next to Hitler’s bunk to give him the latest update.
“Führer, the war has been lost. The traitor Dönitz ordered Alfred Jodl to sign an unconditional surrender on 7 May in Reims. You have been betrayed by your own military. The bastards have sold out the Fatherland.”
Hitler’s skin was badly bruised, his temple and part of his face were still wrapped in bandages. His chin was exposed and he stroked the growth that was now turning into an unkempt grey beard.
“Martin, only you and Goebbels stayed loyal to the Reich and now the weakness of the generals who led our brave soldiers has cost us dearly. They have betrayed me and the German people and must be punished.”
“Führer, trust me, their time will come and, believe me, they will suffer. But I do have positive news from Argentina. The regime has confirmed they’ve received the latest transfer of funds, so our safety and security is guaranteed. Building work is well under way on your new home in Patagonia and, as you requested, it will be a sizeable residence, big enough to house all three of us.”
Hitler shivered under the blankets and nodded his approval. “Will it be safe?”
“It is in the middle of nowhere. Trust me, Führer, no one will ever find us.”