The Young and the Beautiful

Chapter 16

September 1951 Madrid, Spain

Since late 1947, I started to work here in Madrid as the Philippine Ambassador, and went to continue to study international law at the same time. I accepted pápa Eduardo's offer to work as the Philippine ambassador here in Madrid even four years before the country officially started an embassy in 1951. I was working in an office in downtown Madrid right next to Mexican, and Brazilian embassies. Until we transferred recently to a bigger house that serves as an embassy too with our residential home upstairs and a functioning office with two office staffs downstairs.

We were given a house in the suburbs which was big for Camila and I. It had five rooms but we only use one for our bedroom, then two more were converted to offices, my other private office where I work by myself away from the view of everybody, and the art studio or office that Camila uses for her job, she studied art history here when we arrived and has been working in the local museum. But recently, she gained fame as an art dealer for the rich and famous in Madrid. She helps her clients on which artwork to purchase and invest in.

But who knows, maybe in my years here working, we may have a kid on the way. We employ four staffs that helped us live here comfortably. They provided Camila and I a butler and a lady's maid to follow us around and was very helpful when we go to formal events. Mateo my butler was fourteen when he worked with us. He was an orphan in 1939 and was living in a convent since then with his younger brother and sister. He said that their lives in the convent wasn't good since they were made to work to help the church sustain for their needs. So when he was fourteen he moved out and worked for me. He looks forward to getting his siblings out of there too when he can afford a small apartment.

When he applied he looked so pale, thin, and hungry boy with dark blond hair and hazel eyes. Camila was sympathetic towards him, and when he looked at me, I knew why. He looked me straight in my eyes and his piercing eyes were screaming that he needed help. We both hired despite his age. On his first night with us, he ate as if he never saw food in a long time. Camila cried when she saw how bad his condition was and told me that we both made a good decision.

In a week, he understood what is he going to do. He was a smart kid. He assists me with my errands, arranging my books, and paper works. He was more like my home secretary than a butler. The boy was smart and I saw potential that he can succeed one day. So I handed him books that he immediately learned and understood. He even studied English together with the rest of the staff. I taught them basic English every night for one hour before they sleep. Mateo was the smartest of them all. He was always curious and asked me a lot of things.

One day, Mateo went home with cuts and blood on his face. I asked him what happened and he told me that some older boys punched him down. His parents were both republican activists and were killed during the Spanish Civil war.

"Pancho, would you be a darling and hand me over the ointment so Mateo's wounds heal faster?" Camila said as she cleans the wounds on Mateo's face. He had bruises on the side of his hazel eyes. His dark blond hair was still a mess.

"Why do they have to do that to you dear Mateo?" Camila said as she kissed his forehead before talking to me. Mateo's face still squinting when he applied cold ice packs on his swollen face.

"We have to do something about it. The kids over the streets knew that he's a son of a republican. He's lucky that's what he only experienced. It could be worse." Camila said. Mateo was still having a hard time to open his left eye.

"Let him stay here for a while and I will handle the rest." I told her.

We cannot do things about that, especially when they knew that this boy is a son of who they consider a rebel. He would be lucky to even walk down the street without being punched.

I gave Mateo an ID that will prove that he's not a son of rebels. I made one of his father's that said he worked in the army of Franco. I hope that would help him.

I remember that when I started my job, we handled lots of diplomatic cases and were often pressured by the international community to help bring justice by arresting war criminals who fled Germany and had new identities when the war ended.

My group handled a case recently and proved that he went to Spain in late1945 to escape the war crime trials that were held against him. His name was Josef Bachmann and he was claiming to be a humble accountant from Valencia.

I grabbed a cup of coffee in the nearby café and bacon sandwich with cheese on that bright pre-autumn day before heading for a meeting. Madrid is in a season literally in between of summer and autumn. It was too cold for summer but there wasn't a single crisp leaf on the ground yet. I am working together with the other ambassadors in dealing with postwar issues like war criminals who fled Spain and lived in Madrid with different identities. We caught a man named Josef Bachmann who changed his name to Oscar de la Torre. He was a big, light blond almost white haired man in his 50's who was a Gestapo and commander in a concentration camp in Warsaw during the war.

"Francisco, don't you think that we should give him to the Israeli government and let him be tried there?" Benjamin said, he was a co-ambassador from Canada who worked as a spy during the war.

"Well yes I think you're correct Benjamin. But I think that we should prove that he's really Josef, and not a Spaniard named Oscar. We'll cause a huge worldwide scandal if we will sentence a wrong person." I replied, taking a sip of my coffee. I stretched my legs a little as this meeting has been going for almost a day now. We are making sure that everything should go well before the government take his side and let him go to Argentina.

The international community has been pressuring Spain to not shelter those who did horrible things to humanity during the war. There has been over a hundred people who rode ships to Argentina from Spain over the last few years. So here we are now working covertly with the Israelis to make sure to get justice.

"But how can we crack him? He is insisting that he is Oscar de la Torre from Valencia who works as an accountant. Josef doesn't have any records of his fingerprints or dental records that we can check. They all burned the documents before they lost in 1945." Richard Leicester said in a very posh English accent, he was a man with dark brown hair and brown eyes, he was very popular among the ladies during the dinner parties we were invited to. He is an English lawyer working with us. He hailed from a family of land barons in England but since he's the youngest son, he only got a small chunk of his father's land. So he focused working as an international lawyer since the war ended. Richard was the one who introduced me to working here. 

"Well Herman have all of Bachmann's data. Maybe we can arrange a meeting with him." I replied, handing over the documents that Herman researched. Herman was once living in Bavaria, Germany before the war but was able to survive since he and his family went to England in 1938 before the war started.

The men read the data and we learned that Josef has been abducted in his family's home in Valencia. Herman and his group took him here in Madrid afterwards.

"We'll be in deep, deep mess if this blows up." Richard said. We all nodded along in agreement.

"I want to help you but I don't want to be dragged down with this when this all blows up. Mexico cannot afford scandal. Our economy is prosperous and I can't risk it." Gerardo Martinez, the Mexican Ambassador said as he placed the folder on the table.

"I'm with Gerardo with this. I cannot put my country in a huge scandal right now. We're just recovering from the war." I replied. I lit up a cigarette like the rest of them.

"I can prove that it's him." Herman said. We all listened and gave him a curious look.

"Josef was known to be a perfectionist. The Nazi members had code numbers, just like how we have our social security numbers. I can crack him out of it by repeating the last two digits wrong until he cracks." Herman added.

Another day has passed, I walked towards the direction of the city in able to look like I just came from the city and will have a chance to lose whoever's following me, and won't look suspicious if I kept on going in this strange apartment in a known region in Madrid where new migrants live and go home in a cab.