“That’s the first time I’ve ever heard that,” Villa appeared deep in thought. “It sounds like a stretch.”
“I understand your skepticism, my dear. But remember, my father was a Nazi officer, yours was not. Hitler believed the Jews stood in the way of the country’s potential greatness. In his mind, they had to be eliminated.”
Adriana clearly seemed uncomfortable. “How does any of this related to the painting of the tree?”
The woman’s tone became even more serious. “That tree is the source of eternal life. If humans were to eat of its fruit, they could live forever. It was an external sustenance that could stave off death forever.”
“It sounds like a fairy tale,” Adriana said. “There is no such thing.”
Helen shrugged again. “Perhaps. Perhaps not. What I know is that Adolf Hitler spent tens of millions in his search for it. He scoured the earth for clues, anything that could lead to the tree’s location. He was obsessed by it. The search for the tree occupied his mind at all times.
“In the end he died like everyone else,” Adriana added.
“Yes,” the older woman stood while she spoke. “He most certainly did. Although, he did not want to die. For someone who so easily sent men into battle to face death constantly, he was terrified of facing it himself. That fear further served to fuel his search for the tree. Men like my father as well as Holger’s were sent all over Europe and northern Africa in search of anything that could help pinpoint the location of the ancient source of eternal life.”
Adriana’s eyes grew wide with the realization. Even with the far-fetched story about a tree that granted immortality, things were starting to make sense but she still wasn’t quite convinced.
“The art, all of the ancient relics, the historical artifacts that were stolen during the war, those things were taken because Hitler was looking for some mythical tree?”
“No, my dear. The other things that were taken were because of greed. Only the Van Gogh holds the first clue.” Helen stood next to the sink, her coffee mug in her left hand. “There have been many throughout history who have searched for a source of immortality. Ponce de Leon looked for a fountain of youth in the Americas. The Egyptians tried to preserve humans after they died even though the body had already given up. Fear was only a portion of why Hitler searched so diligently. He wanted to live forever because of one simple thing. Power.”
“Power?” Adriana asked
“Yes. Imagine if he had been immortal. He would still be here, creating chaos and commanding atrocities without consequence. His dream of living forever was only the device to what he really wanted. World domination, run by a super race of people.”
Adriana looked down at the photograph. She stared at it; trying to process the information that Helen Obermeyer had just given her. “What is Holger Foyt doing with the painting?” she asked after a moment.
Helen leaned back against the sink. “Holger thinks the stories of the tree are just that, stories. He believed that our fathers and their precious leader were out of their minds. For him, the painting is just a piece of art that served to further their insanity.”
“What do you believe?” Adriana asked, genuinely.
“I have lived long enough to see many things. But I have never seen anything that would make me believe there is a plant that can overcome the power of death. We humans are frail creatures, easily destroyed by microscopic things or by random accidents. I believe their search was futile and I am disgusted by the means they carried out their mission.”
Adriana looked down at the painting again. “Can you help me find the Van Gogh?”
There was a sudden click from the window at the rear of the kitchen. Adriana looked over and noticed the glass had cracked from a hole in the center. The next noise was the sound of a porcelain coffee mug shattering on the floor. She glanced back at her host just before the woman collapsed. Helen’s eyes were wide, staring ahead. Blood oozed from a hole just above her ear. Adriana instinctively jumped back from the view of the window and took cover behind the corner of the kitchen entryway.
She noticed a new, terrifying smell. Smoke. Panic crept into the back of Adriana’s mind.
She looked over towards the hall and saw the smoke entering through room, creeping along the ceiling. She crawled back to the front of the house, trying to stay as low as possible. Through a hallway that stretched to the back of the house, she could see the source of the smoke. The entire back wall of the house was engulfed in a raging flame.
Adriana gave one last glance back into the kitchen at the body on the floor. Helen Obermeyer was dead. She felt responsible but there was nothing she could do. She had to get out. Resigned, she reached over and grabbed the handle to the front door. She twisted it and pulled but nothing happened. Again, she jerked hard on the door but it didn’t budge. Fear flooded her mind. Someone had locked the front door from the outside.
A quick look back down the corridor revealed the flames were moving quickly along the ceiling and upper walls. Up the stairs to her left was still clear fire but smoke was quickly flooding the second floor.
There was a window at the end of the fiery hallway but even if she got through it into the back yard she would be a sitting duck for the gunman who’d killed her host. Smoke began inching lower and lower towards the floor. She could feel the stinging heat from the flames on her skin as the fire rushed towards the front of the house. She looked up at the small, narrow window next to the door but there was no way she could fit through it.
Across from where she was crouched, she noticed a decorative table with a flower pot on it next to the stairs. The object gave her an idea. There was only one way Adriana was going to be able to get out of the building and that was out the back. She’d just have to take her chances with the shooter.
Quickly, she stepped over to the table and swiped the flower vase to the floor. Then, she lifted the table. The wooden object was lighter than she had anticipated, which was a good thing and was just big enough to shield her from the flames. She peeked around the corner of the stairs at the fiery corridor. To her utter horrific dismay, the entire hall had caught fire faster than she’d assumed and was completely engulfed. Her only chance was to go upstairs and out another window. Without another thought, she flew up the stairs two at a time.
Most of the fire had not reached the upper part of the house but the smoke was thick and her lungs were beginning to burn. Adriana pulled her shirt up over her face to protect from inhaling too much of the deadly air. There were a few open doors to other rooms but she was more interested in what was next to her. To her left, a window facing the street in front of the home gave her a little hope.
She rushed over to it quickly but found that it was not designed to open. A small decorative table sat nearby with an old picture frame on its top. She grabbed the table by the center stand and flung the object through the window. The glass and wooden frame shattered, sending smoke billowing out of the opening.
Careful not to cut herself on the jagged pieces of broken glass, Adriana knocked out the remaining parts of the window and climbed up onto the window. A moment later, she was on the outer ledge in the fresh air. She pulled her shirt back down, relieved to be able to breathe again.
She could hear sirens somewhere nearby. Emergency crews would be on the scene in a few minutes and she would prefer to not be there when they arrived. A small crowd had started to gather on the other side of the street after noticing the smoke roiling from the home. Behind her, through the window, something exploded and sent a burst of flame out of the opening next to her. No time to think. The roof was steeply sloped with reddish tiles. There was another ledge where the roof ended about six feet down. From there, she could make her way over to the next building.