Brandenburg (65 page)

The “secret” behind the reason for the SS destruction inspired me to write the book.

The bulldozed area of the graveyard actually held the grave of a woman named Geli Raubal—Adolf Hitler’s niece, with whom he had a close relationship—and who died in mysterious circumstances just before Hitler came to power. (Rumors circulated at the time that Geli Raubal was actually murdered, on Hitler’s orders, because she was pregnant with his child, or had already given birth.)

This “secret”—that Hitler may have had his niece killed in order to hide the fact that she had fathered a child by him, a child who survived and might be still living today—formed the central “mystery” that must be uncovered in
Brandenburg
. It also has a chilling significance in today’s world, in which Europe is once again being ravaged by neo-Nazi groups that are looking for a leader to rally around.

It’s historical fact that Hitler personally gave the order in 1941 for the grave in Vienna to be destroyed—some believed it was to frustrate any subsequent autopsy that might reveal that his niece was pregnant or had given birth. To this day, the ravaged section of the cemetery still exists—it remains a barren patch of land, the gravestones long obliterated.

2.
 Many of the social conditions of pre–World War II Germany—high unemployment, a weak economy, the “immigrant question”—sound disturbingly familiar. What do you think is the likelihood that another Nazi-like entity could rise to power in the twenty-first century?

History often has a habit of repeating itself, so never say never. When I met with Germany’s national intelligence organization during the research for the book, several officers I spoke with privately expressed their grave concerns about the neo-Nazi groups that are still on the rise in Germany. They continue to simmer dangerously in the background since their resurgence in Europe in the 1960s and ’70s. And it’s not just a European phenomenon—Russia, Eastern Europe, the U.S. all have the problem. I believe it will worsen worldwide with these groups attracting even more followers among the disaffected as economic conditions and unemployment deteriorate.

3.
 Did you have a favorite character or scene in
Brandenburg
? If so, which one, and why?

That’s a difficult one. Like a good parent, I love all my “children” equally. But some characters or scenes will always stand out in the author’s mind. I may have a slight fondness for Joe Volkmann and Rudi Hernandez, but for different reasons. Volkmann because he’s complex, and Hernandez because he’s not.

Scene? The one where Volkmann and Erica learn the true identity of the mystery woman in the photograph taken in the 1930s. It’s a real shock, an enigma revealed, and all the more enjoyable to write because it’s based on a real character and a true revelation.

4.
 How long did it take you to research and write
Brandenburg
?

About a year, which involved several trips to Germany, where I met a bunch of shaven-headed neo-Nazis in Berlin—one of the scariest experiences I’ve ever had because of the absolute ease with which they boasted about their acts of violence, their hatred of immigrants, and their denial of the Holocaust. It ranks up there with
meeting hard-line Al Qaeda supporters in Istanbul, while researching another book of mine,
Resurrection Day
. They were both chilling, sobering experiences, and served to remind me of the potential danger we all face from such fanatics.

5.
 What is your research process? How do you know when to stop researching and start writing?

I read as much as I can on the subject and visit any important locations that will feature in the book. Research is hard work but fun—you’re constantly discovering facts and details that may be of use to you in the writing. I usually take along a video camera and record images of the locations I will use in the book. They help jog my memory when I’m writing.

I’ve got most of the research done before I start the writing process—but in truth, you’re often still discovering interesting morsels of research until right before you hand in the manuscript to your editor.

6.
 Were there any surprises for you in the writing of this novel? Did you uncover any startling facts or glimpses of history that were new to you?

Discovering the central “secret” behind
Brandenburg
was a big revelation to me. I hadn’t known a lot about Hitler’s private life, or about Geli Raubal.

It was a shock that was all the more disturbing when I visited Vienna’s old Central Cemetery and saw the ruined plot where Hitler’s niece was buried.

7.
 How have readers responded to
Brandenburg
?

Pretty well; it certainly generated a lot of mail. One of the surprising things about it is that my German publisher declined to publish the book at first, fearing German sensitivity about the subject matter. Only when they had successfully published several other of my books did they decide to take the risk. It became a bestseller in Germany.

8.
 If readers take away one primary message from
Brandenburg
, what do you hope it will be?

That old cliché, learn from the past. The Nazi period was truly horrific—probably
the
most evil and brutal episode in human history. The same conditions that caused fascism’s rise could well happen again; neo-Nazism has been on a definite rise in the last decades. I hope it helps even in a small way to remind readers that we must never allow that part of our history to repeat itself.

9.
 
Brandenburg
remains suspenseful all the way to the end. Is there a sequel?

History also has a habit of repeating itself where authors are concerned. So you never know.

10.
 What advice would you offer to a novice fiction writer?

Read, read, read. Write, write, write. Don’t just read a book or see a movie once—do it twice or more. The first time should be for pleasure; the second and subsequent times for craft. Study how writers achieve the effect they want to achieve on the page, and try to do the same kind of thing in your own writing, if not better.

11.
 Many of your books deal with historical themes. What attracts you to writing about historical events?

An interest in history since I was a kid—I was always a daydreamer, constantly taking myself off to other worlds, where I imagined myself existing. I guess it’s still a trait, and I still daydream, except now I’m lucky enough to make a living from it.

12.
 What book are you working on now?

The question no writer likes to answer . . . in case a wicked spell is cast upon his work. Let’s just say it borrows elements from my other works, and there’s certainly a historical element, but it’s more contemporary, and set in the U.S. and Europe.

AN EXCERPT FROM

THE SECOND MESSIAH,

ANOTHER THRILLING READ FROM

GLENN MEADE

1

EAST OF JERUSALEM
ISRAEL

Leon Gold didn’t know that he had two minutes left to live and he was grinning. “Did anyone ever tell you that you’ve got terrific legs?” he asked the drop-dead-gorgeous woman seated next to him.

Gold was twenty-three, a tanned, good-looking, muscular young man from New Jersey whose folks had immigrated to Israel. As he drove his Dodge truck with military markings past a row of sun-drenched orange groves, he inhaled the sweet scent through the rolled-down window, then used the moment to glimpse the figure of the woman seated next to him.

Private Rachel Else was stunning.

Gold, a corporal, eyed Rachel’s uniform skirt riding up her legs, the top button open on her shirt to reveal a flash of cleavage. She was driving him so crazy that he found it hard to concentrate on his job—delivering a consignment to an Israel Defense Forces outpost, thirty miles away. The road ahead was a coil of tortuous bends. “Well, did anyone ever tell you that you’ve got terrific legs?” Gold repeated.

A tiny smile curled Rachel’s lips. “Yeah, you did. Five minutes ago, Leon. Tell me something new.”

Gold flicked a look in the rearview mirror and saw sunlight igniting the windows and the glinting dome of a fast-disappearing Jerusalem. There was only one reason he stayed in this godforsaken country with its endless friction with the Palestinians, high taxes, grumbling Jews, and searing heat.

The Israeli women. They were simply gorgeous. And the Israel Defense Forces had its fair share of beauties. Gold was determined
that Rachel was going to be his next date. He shifted down a gear as the road twisted up and the orange scent was replaced by gritty desert air. “Okay, then did anyone ever mention you’ve got seductive eyes and a terrific figure?”

“You mentioned those too, Leon. You’re repeating yourself.”

“Are you going to come on a date with me or not, Private Else?”

“No. Keep your eyes on the road, Corporal.”

“I’ve got my eyes on the road.”

“They’re on my legs.”

Gold grinned again. “Hey, can I help it if you make my eyes wander?”

“Keep them on the
road,
Leon. You crash and we’re both in trouble.”

Gold focused on the empty road as it rose up into sand-dusted limestone hills. Rachel was proving a tough nut to crack, but he reckoned he still had an ace up his sleeve. As the road snaked round a bend he nudged the truck nearer the edge. The wheels skidded, sending loose gravel skittering into the rock-strewn ravine below.

Alarm crept into Rachel’s voice. “Leon! Don’t do that.”

Gold winked, nudging the Dodge even closer to the road’s edge. “Maybe I can make you change your mind?”

“Stop it, Leon. Don’t fool around, it’s crazy. You’ll get us killed.”

Gold grinned as the wheels skidded again. “How about that date? Just put me out of my misery. Yes, or no?”

“Leon! Oh no!” Rachel stared out past the windshield.

Gold’s eyes snapped straight ahead as he swung the wheel away from the brink. A white Ford pickup appeared from around the next bend. Gold jumped on the brakes but his blood turned to ice and he knew he was doomed. His Dodge started to skid as the two vehicles hurtled toward the ravine’s edge, trying to avoid a crash. The pickup was like an express train that couldn’t stop and then everything seemed to happen in slow motion.

Gold clearly saw the pickup’s occupants. Three adults in the front cab, two teenagers in the open back—a boy and a girl seated on
some crates. The smiles on their faces collapsed into horror as the two vehicles shrieked past each other.

There was a grating clang of metal striking metal as the rears of both vehicles briefly collided and then Gold screamed, felt a breeze rush past him as the Dodge flew through the air. His scream combined with Rachel’s in a bloodcurdling duet that died abruptly when their truck smashed nose-first into the ravine and their gas tank ignited.

Fifteen miles from Jerusalem, the distant percussion of the massive blast could be heard as the army truck’s cargo of antipersonnel mines detonated instantly, vaporizing Gold’s and Rachel’s handsome young bodies into bone and ash.

•   •   •

The Catholic priest was following two hundred yards behind the pickup, driving a battered old Renault, when he felt the blast through the rolled-down window. The percussion pained his ears and he slammed on his brakes. The Renault skidded to a halt.

The priest paled as he stared at the orange ball of flame rising into the air, followed by an oily cloud of smoke. Instinct made him stab his foot on the accelerator and the Renault sped forward.

When he reached the edge of the ravine, he floored the brakes and jumped out of his car. The priest saw the flames consume the blazing shell of the army truck and knew there was no hope for whoever was inside. His focus turned to the upturned white Ford pickup farther along the ravine, smoke pouring from its cabin. The priest blessed himself as he stared blankly at the accident scene. “May the Lord have mercy on their souls.”

His plan had gone horribly wrong. This was not exactly what he had intended. If the pickup’s occupants had to die, so be it—the priceless, two-thousand-year-old treasure inside the vehicle was worth the loss of human life—but he hadn’t foreseen such awful carnage.

He moved toward the pickup. A string of deafening explosions erupted as more mines ignited. The priest was forced to crouch low.

Seconds later his eyes shifted back to the upturned Ford pickup. He could make out the occupants trapped inside the smoke-filled cabin. One of them frantically kicked at the windshield, trying to escape. Nearby the sprawled bodies of a teenage boy and girl lay among the wreckage.

When the explosions died, the priest stood. His gaze swung back to the burning pickup. The desperate passenger had stopped kicking and his body had fallen limp. As thick smoke smothered the cabin, the priest caught sight of the leather map case, lying wedged inside the windshield.

He knew it contained the ancient scroll that had been discovered that morning at Qumran, and that the pickup was on its way to the Antiquities Department in Jerusalem with its precious cargo. But the priest was desperate to ensure that the scroll never reached its destination.