‘He did not reject us, Mr Steadman,’ he said, his voice tight. ‘In the end, we rejected him.’ He pulled Steadman’s head forward again, released it, then slapped him viciously. The investigator tried to heave himself from the chair, but the restraining arm of Brannigan encircled his neck and the gun pressed even deeper into his skin.
‘I wouldn’t do that, Steadman,’ the major warned. ‘Just sit quietly, will you?’
Steadman allowed himself to relax back into the chair and his neck was released. Gant smiled, then turned away, returning to the fireplace as though it were a stage for his oratory.
‘When Adolf Hitler’s ideals were still unformed – perhaps that is a bad word – “unchannelled” might be better, the Thule Society and the German Order Walvater of the Holy Grail were practising Nordic freemasonry, to counter the orthodox Jewish freemasonry which was slowly strangling the German economy in the years after the First World War. We were strongly opposed to the Republican Government in Berlin at that time because of their sinister alliance with the rabble of the land: Jews, Slavs, Marxists. These – these degenerates – were gradually seizing control of the state and industry, crippling the country with their demands and their greedy conniving ways, and had created a situation that is not too unlike the situation in Britain today. You would agree with the similarity, wouldn’t you Mr Steadman?’
Gant waited for a reply, but when none was forthcoming his voice suddenly shrieked through the stillness of the room. ‘You would agree?’
‘The comparison’s a little extreme,’ Steadman said blandly.
‘You think so, do you?’ There was malicious sarcasm in Gant’s voice now. ‘You think the elected government still rules this country? You think management still runs industry? You think the pure Anglo-Saxon still owns the country? Look around you, Mr Steadman, with your eyes open. Not just at this country, but throughout the world. It’s happening everywhere, just as it happened in Germany so many years ago: the upsurgence of the lower races! The African states, the Arabs – look how fast they’re growing. Latin America. China. Japan. Russia! And, of course Israel.
‘The comparison is too extreme, you say. Let me assure you: today, the threat is even greater!’
Steadman knew there was no point in arguing. Men like Gant were too obsessed with their own bigotry to see reason.
‘The Aryan people needed a strong leader then, just as they need one now. Hitler knew this and he saw we could help him be that leader. We were already creating the climate of feeling against the Jewish-Bolshevik infiltration. We, the Thules, and the members of the German Order Walvater, had already formed a new party within our own – the Deutsche Arbeiterpartei, later to become known as the National Socialist German Workers Party. The Nazi Party.’
Gant paused as if for effect, and Steadman wondered if his audience was going to break into applause. They didn’t, but there was a lustre in both Köhner’s and Kristina’s eyes. The old man sat rock-like, unmoving, his eyes hidden beneath deep shadows. Steadman’s attention was drawn back to the arms dealer as he went on.
‘Hitler, who was still in the Army at that time, had been selected by his commanding officer for a course in political instruction and one of his duties was to attend meetings such as ours. It wasn’t too long before he had joined us in our cause! And it was with us that men like Eckart and Guthbertlet initiated him into the study of Teutonic mysticism. It was with us he found his destiny.
‘After years of struggle, after persecution and bloodshed, we conquered the enemy within our own country. In 1933, Hitler was made Chancellor of Germany – a great day for the Thules! And a tragic day for Hitler. For it was then he turned against us. He endeavoured to purge Germany of all mystical societies, and on the surface, we suffered with the rest. To the world it appeared he had rejected such cults, but in fact he had found a new source of power. A symbol. A weapon that had been wielded by glorious conquerors of the past! And he set in motion his plans to obtain it.’
11
‘This modern (British) Empire shows all the marks of decay and inexorable breakdown because there is nowhere in it the courage of firm leadership. If you no longer have the strength to give orders to rule by means of force, and are too humane to give orders, then it’s time to resign. Britain will yet regret her softness. It will cost her her Empire.’
‘For England, the First World War was a Pyrrhic victory.’
‘To maintain their empire, they need a strong continental power at their side. Only Germany can be this power.’
Adolf Hitler
‘One thing is certain – Hitler has the spirit of the prophet.’
Hermann Rauschning
‘Hitler did not reject occultism, as you seem to believe, Mr Steadman. Even the historians who dismiss such ideas as cheap fantasy cannot explain the many indications of Hitler’s deep faith in all things occult. The Russians, when they finally overran Berlin, found a thousand corpses of Tibetan monks, all wearing the Nazi uniform – but without any insignia. Every one had committed suicide. Why would Hitler have such men drafted into his Army and why should they have finally killed themselves? Why the bizarre experiments carried out on the degenerates of his concentration camps? The deep-freezing of living bodies; the scattering of the ashes from the gas ovens across the land; the thousands of severed skulls the Allies found when they invaded. Hitler held up experiments on the V2 rocket – the weapon that could have won the war for Germany – because he believed they might disintegrate an etheric structure he believed encircled the earth. Were these the acts of a man who had rejected occultism? The SS symbol of the Schutzstaffeln was derived from the ancient Sig rune; the black uniform itself, with its black cap and necromantic death’s head insignia – would a man who no longer believed in the Black Arts place such importance on regalia of this kind? Even British Intelligence made use of an occult department as a counter-measure to the Nazi Occult Bureau.’
Although Gant’s face was in darkness, Steadman could feel his eyes boring into him. ‘You said Hitler had found a source of power. Some kind of symbol.’ He remembered Pope’s mention of an ancient spearhead. ‘Would it have been the Heilige Lance?’
‘Why yes, Mr Steadman.’ There was a malicious satisfaction in Gant’s smile. ‘The spear that was believed to be the weapon that pierced the side of Christ as he died on the cross. The Spear of Longinus the Centurion. Adolf Hitler found the spearhead in Vienna’s Hofburg Museum when he was little more than a vagrant in the city and made an extensive search into its history. Even at that time his head was filled with the past glories of the German people – and the glories yet to come. He also had visions of other battles, those fought in another dimension, mystical wars between the forces of God and the forces of the Devil.
‘Richard Wagner portrayed these conflicts in many of his finest works and Hitler believed Wagner was the true prophet of his race! It was in Parsifal, Wagner’s last and most inspired opera, that Hitler discovered the true significance of the Holy Grail, the search for mankind’s spiritual fulfilment. The kings, the emperors – the tyrants – who had claimed the holy relic throughout the centuries also knew its secret. It had caused Christ’s blood to flow into the ground, to replenish, regenerate the very earth. Its spiritual powers were regarded as the symbolic manifestation of the constant cosmic struggle. It was a symbol of the conflicting powers and only the bearer could choose which it represented. Hitler’s knowledge of both history and mysticism made him realize that he had found the link between earthly and spiritual forces. That link, in its material form, was the Spear of Longinus, for it was the weapon, in the hands of a Roman soldier, that had spilled Christ’s very spirit into the ground. Hitler vowed he would one day possess the weapon. That day came when he annexed Austria!
‘Churchill himself ordered the true facts to be kept secret from the public. The Nuremberg Trials did not even try to explain why such “atrocities” took place. The world had been frightened enough without bringing demonic significance to its atte
ntion. Oh no, Mr Steadman, the Führer did not give up his beliefs; far from it. He banned such secret societies because he believed them to be a threat to his own occult power. But the Thule Group continued. We had already become integrated into the SS thanks to the vision of another man, a man far greater than the failure who deigned to be Führer! The man who never gave up even when his beloved country had been betrayed by Hitler. I mean, of course, the Reichsführer, Heinrich Himmler!’
Steadman almost laughed aloud, but he knew Gant was deadly serious. The arms dealer’s hands were held clasped together before him, almost in a gesture of prayer.
‘Himmler knew the power of the Spear. He had pleaded with his Führer to allow him to take it from Vienna to his Wewelsburg, his shrine of the new Holy Order. But Hitler refused. He had other plans for the sacred relic. The Spear, along with all the other regalia of the Hofburg Treasure House, would be removed legally – not plundered – and taken to St Katherine’s Church, Nuremberg, where it would remain until he had attained world dominance. He failed because he ignored Himmler.’
Gant was silent now, his shoulders heaving slightly as though he were finding it difficult to breathe. Vapour escaped from his mouth and Steadman realized just how cold the room had become. Unnaturally cold. The fire roared behind the arms dealer, yet no heat seemed to come from it. Gant would never have been able to stand so close otherwise. The arms dealer approached Steadman once again and the investigator tensed, knowing he would not accept another slap without some resistance. But Gant returned his hands to his pockets and stood over Steadman, his attitude menacing.
‘But that is the past, Mr Steadman,’ he said. ‘Let us concern ourselves with the present. As you see—’ he nodded towards Goldblatt and Hannah ‘—your two colleagues are of no use to you now. But we would like to know more about you, about your feeble plans to destroy our organization. I’m afraid your friends are not very good talkers. I wonder if your other Mossad associate is?’
‘My other associate?’ Steadman was perplexed. ‘Wait. You mean Baruch Kanaan. You have him . . .’
‘No, Mr Steadman.’ Gant spat out the words. ‘I mean your colleague, Holly Miles.’
‘Holly? No, you’ve got it wrong! She’s got nothing to do with Mossad.’
‘Really? I must say, she had a perfect cover. Even her credentials checked out. It seems she really is some distant relative of my late wife. But then Mossad is known for its thoroughness. As for the other one – this Baruch – I think he regrets the day he ever visited my Wewelsburg.’
‘He’s alive?’
Gant grinned maliciously. ‘Almost,’ he said.
Steadman wondered what ‘almost’ meant. ‘Look, the girl – Holly – she has nothing to do with all this. She really is a journalist.’
‘Of course.’
‘No, I mean it. I don’t belong to Mossad either. I finished with The Institute years ago. They hired me for a job, that’s all, to find their missing agent, Baruch Kanaan.’
‘I haven’t got time for all this, Mr Steadman,’ Gant said with an air of weariness. ‘Köhner will find out all we need to know from you when we’re gone. We have more important things to attend to, you see. I’ll give your love to Miss Miles. I shall enjoy speaking to her.’
‘Where is she, Gant? What have you done with her?’ Steadman began to rise, but Brannigan pressed a heavy hand down on his shoulder. ‘For Christ’s sake, Brannigan, why are you involved with this madman? You’re in the bloody British Army!’
Gant’s hand cracked across his face again, snapping it to one side and drawing blood from the corner of his mouth.
‘Please don’t be so impolite, Mr Steadman,’ Gant said quietly. ‘I am not mad. It’s the leaders of this country who are mad, allowing it to sink to these depths.’
‘But your sympathies were with the Germans, weren’t they,’ Steadman said through his clenched teeth. ‘You kept saying we – we helped Hitler, we, the Thules.’
‘I am a German, Mr Steadman. And a loyal friend to Heinrich Himmler. But we never hated the British. We wanted them as allies. We even admired the British aristocracy, for their views were much in line with ours. Unfortunately, your country chose to condemn us. The ironic part is that many see their error now – not just in this country but in others, too. They’ve witnessed the rise of the lower races and are suffering because of it! It isn’t too late, though. Powerful men are behind us now that the climate is right for the counter-revolution. It will be slow at first, but various “happenings” will cause its escalation. And these “happenings” will be engineered by us, the Thule Gesellschaft. Our first major strike will be tomorrow, which is why we have to leave you in the hands of Mr Köhner. He rather enjoys gathering information from people, you know. He especially enjoyed his conversation with your partner, Mrs Wyeth.’
Steadman ignored the restraining hand on his shoulder and the gun at his neck. His hands found Gant’s throat and he began to squeeze with all his strength, the blind fury in him overcoming any fear. His head spun wildly as the gun barrel glanced off his skull, but still he clung to the arms dealer, still he tried to choke the life from him. Gant’s fingers clenched around Steadman’s wrists and tried to pull his hands away, but incredibly strong though the arms dealer’s grip was, Steadman’s hate was stronger. The weapon struck yet again and he slowly sank to his knees, grasping at his victim’s body as he went down. Gant’s knee sent him keeling over on to the floor. He tried to rise, dazed and hurt, succeeding only in getting his knees under him, his hands flat against the floor. Brannigan stepped forward and kicked his ribs viciously, sending him rolling over on to his back. He tried to clear his head and open his eyes. Through the spinning haze, he saw the withered face of the old man peering down at him, the eyes still hidden inside the two dark caverns. A shriek made him twist his head and though the room tilted and turned, he could see it was Goldblatt who was screaming, straining at his ropes, his hands tied to the arms of the chair, like claws, pointing towards the tall figure of Gant as though wanting to tear him to shreds.
‘You bastards,’ he was screaming. ‘You’re still Gestapo filth! You’re still the animals you always were. Assassins. You were called the Society of Assassins! And that’s all you are!’
Everything took on a dream-like quality as his vision slowly began to fade. He saw Köhner draw something from his inside pocket, saw it gleam redly in the light from the fire, saw Gant slowly nod his head, saw Goldblatt’s head pulled back by the hair, saw the knife’s blade sweep across the exposed neck as if in slow motion, saw the blood spurt out in a great flood, turning the Israeli’s shirt a deep crimson, soaking the floor at his feet. He saw the body stiffen then go into a spasmodic twitching dance.
And he felt the terrible coldness enveloping him as he lost consciousness.
12
‘A great deal of potentially useful information can be extracted from suspects. Even if suspicion of their treasonable activities proves to be unfounded they can often be persuaded to give the SD information that will lead to other suspects. Such information is usually given under duress, threat, or promise of release.’
Heinrich Himmler
‘Bloody hell, a helicopter!’ Steve looked anxiously at the older detective, then ducked his head towards the windscreen so he could see the red tail-light of the helicopter as it rose above the treetops and into the air. ‘It’s come from the house, I’m sure!’
Blake squinted into the night. ‘It must be Gant’s own private helicopter. Now I wonder where he’s off to?’
‘If he’s in it. I can’t see it too well in the dark, but it looks big enough to carry four or five people. D’you think Mr Steadman’s there?’
‘God knows. It doesn’t make me feel any easier, though. I think we’re going to have to do something soon.’
Steve nodded in agreement. He was cold, tired and bored. Cramped, too. Sexton hadn’t let him leave the car to exercise his stiff limbs. ‘What do we do? Drive up to the gate and demand to see him
? Or shall we get the police?’
‘Get the police? What for? As far as we know, everything’s in order. The governor’s doing a bit of business with the arms merchant. What could we tell the police?’
‘Sorry. Just feeling a bit twitchy, that’s all.’
‘All right, son, I feel the same. Harry’s been in there a long time. I think the first thing we’ll do is get nearer the gates, see if anything . . .’
‘Hold it!’ Steve’s hand closed over his arm in the dark. ‘Something’s happening. Look, headlights!’
Bright beams of light swung into view, shining through the gates and lighting up the dense forest opposite. Their movement stopped for a few seconds, the vehicle presumably waiting for the gates to be opened. Then they were in motion again, swinging away from the two hidden men, moving off down the road towards the west. They had just made out the shape of a large truck before it had turned fully away from them. They watched the tail-lights disappear down the road and were aware of the helicopter’s drone fading into the distance.
‘Looks like an exodus,’ mused Sexton.
‘What, Mr Blake?’
‘Nothing. Come on, let’s have a closer look.’
They left the Cortina and crept as quietly as possible through the undergrowth towards the entrance to the grounds. When they were opposite and still well-hidden, they waited, shivering against the chill night air.
Steadman brought a hand up to the back of his head, wincing at the sudden sharp pain. He was still lying on the floor where he had fallen, the hazy red shadows dancing on the ceiling confusing him for a few seconds. His head began to clear slowly, but when he tried to raise himself on one elbow, the room spun crazily and he sank back, both hands covering his eyes. Hearing movements, he lowered his hands again and blinked. Still not rising, he swung his head round, careful not to move too fast. He saw the hunched figure of a man – the same man who had shown him into the house that afternoon – dragging something along the floor, something that left a dark, liquid trail behind. It hit him suddenly, the memory tearing into his numbed brain. He tried to rise again, turning himself over on to his side, pushing against the floor with his hands, and this time he was partially successful. He was able to support himself with an elbow and get a clear view of the room. Dimly, in the background of his awareness, he heard the fading sounds of what could only have been a helicopter.