Secrets of the Last Nazi (19 page)

L
udochovic pulled
the receiver away from his head - it was the only way to save his ears from his line manager’s ranting. He had heard enough about the Zenyalena’s travails underground, the rats and the brutish Glenn, whom the woman was convinced was a CIA spy. He just waited until she stopped screaming down the phone at him, which he hoped would be soon.

It was several more minutes before he was able to say, ‘Thank you, Ms Androvsky,’ and ask, ‘So what exactly do you want me to do from here?’

After another few minutes of high-volume hysteria, Zenyalena’s voice began to become more reasonable. Although it was peculiar, what she was saying made sense, and Ludochovic found his pale head nodding silently in understanding.

‘So,’ he concluded. ‘I will check the data. This means I will check the birthtimes and places of Hitler, Himmler and Churchill…’

‘…and Hirohito,’ demanded Zenyalena’s voice through the phone.

‘…
and Hirohito
. And I will use the NASA website to calculate where the planets were when these people were born. And then?’

Ludochovic listened to Zenyalena’s detailed instructions, making notes with his pencil, and trying not to reveal any surprise in his ever-calm voice.

‘I will do that, Ms Androvky. But I request that you send through to me all that I should look for,’ he asked.

Zenyalena’s single word response – ‘Da’ – was enough for him to start work. He accepted he was there to follow orders, however bizarre those orders may sound.

M
yles’ eyes were drawn
to a public information notice on the back of the cubicle door. Under the title ‘Far From Home?’ was the silhouette of an American soldier with a rifle on his shoulder and a phone to his ear. The phone line led to a woman and two children standing beneath the stars and stripes. A sinister figure in a balaclava loomed nearby, planning some sort of ambush. ‘If you tell them,’ ran the strapline, ‘you could put them in danger.’

‘Myles!’ Helen was shouting at him from the computer screen. ‘Are you still there?’

‘Sure, I’m here,’ said Myles pulling himself back into view of the video feed.

‘Come on,’ she complained. ‘Tell me who else is looking for Stolz’s secret.’

Myles scratched his head. ‘We don’t know exactly. In Berlin, the Frenchman in our team was murdered and had to be replaced. Then in Vienna there was a suspicious fire, and in Munich we were trapped in an underground cavern. It wasn’t an accident.’

Helen was momentarily silenced, shaking her head while she absorbed the facts. After a long pause, she asked, ‘You sure you want to continue with this?’

Myles was sure. ‘Yes,’ he said, firmly. ‘I have to - it’s too important.’

‘Don’t tell me you’re still trying to clear your name.’

Myles shook his head. ‘I don’t care about that. It’s that Stolz’s papers could explain why Hitler took some really dumb decisions, like invade Russia,’ Myles explained. ‘The dictator could have been following bad advice from an astrologer, who told him he could win...’

Myles could see Helen was beginning to understand why it was so important to him.

‘…And then there’s the other possibility,’ he added. ‘Even more important – that somehow planets really
do
influence people. If that’s true, Stolz’s work could change everything we know – more, even, than the discoveries of the greatest scientists.’

Helen looked sceptical again. ‘Really? Even more than, say, Isaac Newton?’

‘Isaac Newton also did lots of work on astrology himself – he was convinced there was something in it,’ remembered Myles. ‘When Halley – the man who discovered the comet – mocked Newton for it, Newton famously replied ‘Sir, I have studied the matter’.’

Myles pondered for a few more moments as a thought struck him. ‘I wonder what happened to his research?’ he mused. Then he lightened up. ‘Hey - remember Corporal Bradley? From the papers we read in the hospital? Well, Helen, he was right. If all this stuff – all these unexplained facts – get buried, or just given to a bureaucrat, they’ll be wasted. Like Bradley, I think there’s something here, and it could change science for ever.’

‘I tracked the Corporal down,’ announced Helen.

Myles laughed. ‘Ha - I knew you would.’

‘He went to live in Alaska after the war, where he worked in a government job. He got married, and settled near Mount St Helens – quite close to where the volcano was in 1980. It destroyed his house, and he would have died, but he sold up several months before.’

‘So he’s still alive?’

Helen shook her head. ‘I’m afraid not. He died, back in 1980, aged 62.’

‘Old age?’

‘No – a road traffic accident. In the same week his house was buried by volcano lava, his car was crushed by a truck.’

Myles raised his eyebrows. Bradley’s death was several decades ago, but it was still sad to hear of the man’s demise. ‘I guess, when it’s your time to go, it’s time to go.’

Then Myles thought some more. ‘Hey - did you find out why Bradley left his house? Did he know the volcano was going to erupt before anybody else? It’s like he knew something huge was going to crush him, so he tried to escape, but fate still got him anyway. It just happened to be a truck rather than a volcano.’

Helen shrugged. ‘That was all I could find out. But I could keep looking. I might be able to persuade my editor there’s a news item here. A human interest story, at least… We could link it with Stolz, if that’s not too secret. Where are you going next? I could meet you there.’

Myles slumped. ‘We don’t know where we’re going next,’ he admitted. ‘Stolz’s next clue is ‘500 metres south of the railway carriage, close to where he swapped his vision but didn’t serve.’’

Helen frowned. ‘Who’s ‘He’?’

‘Probably Hitler – it’s been Hitler in the other clues so far,’ explained Myles.

‘Who do you think Stolz left these clues for?’ asked Helen.

Myles paused before he answered. ‘For Nazis, I think,’ he suggested. ‘Clue One referred to Hitler’s friend at school, the second to where the dictator wrote Mein Kampf. It’s as if the old man Stolz tried to code his secret so only a true Nazi would be able to follow.’

‘Except, you’ve followed him so far,’ said Helen. ‘So Stolz did a bad job.’

Myles nodded – either Stolz had done his job badly, or there was something else the team hadn’t worked out yet.

‘Or,’ added Helen, ‘you’re on the wrong track…’

Track
…. The word triggered Myles’ memory. He recalled a newsreel of the dictator in 1940, cocky and triumphant – in a railway carriage in France.
Hitler’s railway carriage…
‘It’s the special train – in eastern France,’ he announced.

Helen asked him to explain, so Myles told her about Hitler’s theatrical show of vengeance after his first proper Blitzkrieg. ‘In June 1940, Hitler made the French sign their surrender in a railway carriage. It was the same carriage used by the Germans for their surrender in 1918, which ended World War One.’

Helen was impressed. ‘That has to be the railway carriage in the clue. Where is it now?’

‘Nobody knows – it was destroyed in 1945,’ conceded Myles. ‘It could have been lost in an air raid, or the Nazis might have blown it up, afraid they might be forced to sign another German surrender inside,’ explained Myles. ‘But there’s a replic
a
. In a museum, in France. I suppose the next clue must be 500 metres south of it.’

Helen was nodding, impressed by Myles’ puzzle-solving skills. ‘That all makes sense. But what about the ‘vision swapping’ thing?’

Myles put on his guessing face. ‘I’m not sure,’ he said. ‘But I know Hitler was blinded in a gas attack on the Western Front. It could have been nearby. He lost his sight for several weeks. According to Mein Kampf, it was also when he was in the trenches that he discovered his vision for a ‘New Germany’.’

‘You mean, when Stolz said Hitler ‘swapped his vision’, he was trying to be funny?’

‘It’s the best I can think of,’ admitted Myles.

Helen smiled. ‘Well, you’ve convinced me,’ she said. ‘The most important thing is that you stay safe, OK?’ Her eyebrows were furrowed in concern.

‘You too, Helen. Seriously – don’t get involved in this. It could put you in danger.’

Helen seemed to dismiss the threat. ‘I love you, Myles,’ she said, blowing him another kiss.

‘I mean it, Helen,’ he insisted. ‘Whoever’s been sabotaging our team, if they find out you’re researching this too…’

‘Tell me you love me.’ she interrupted.

‘You know I do,’ he said. He winked at her through the video-feed. ‘And let’s make sure we’re together again soon.’

She nodded, smiled, then leaned forward to turn off her laptop.

‘Stay safe,’ repeated Myles, but Helen’s image had already disappeared.

‘Er, you finished in there?’ called an American accent. Myles spun round to see an acne-faced serviceman poking his head into the cubicle. ‘It’s just, I’ve got this one booked,’ explained the young soldier.

‘Sorry, yes,’ Myles apologised. He checked he hadn’t left anything behind, and vacated the small room. The soldier thanked him.

Back in the underground corridor, Myles hobbled back up to the main part of the garrison complex, looking for the rest of the team. It was almost deserted. The gift shop had closed, the big children’s TV was switched off, and the only people in the large reception area were a burly soldier and an infant asleep in a pram.

Myles tried to find the medical area, hoping to check up on Pascal. But instead, he only found part of the base which was off-limits. He was politely but firmly told he couldn’t enter.

He retreated to the restaurant, where, although they were closing up, the female manager took pity on him. She made sure he had all-American T-bone steak with fries and milkshake. Myles ate gratefully – alone, but with the restaurant manager popping by several times to ask if he needed anything.

Back at reception he found he had been allocated a room – one of the largest, and with a mountain view, the receptionist explained. She also pointed him towards the ‘elevator’, noting that English people usually called it a lift. He limped into it, found his room, and swiftly went to bed.

But he found it hard to sleep. He was unnerved, and couldn’t expel the last image of Helen from his mind. She was now as intrigued as he was. She’d take risks to find out more. That meant she might be targeted, too.

His call to check she was safe had, in fact, made her less safe. Just like Corporal Bradley, it seemed Helen’s fate was to be in danger. And what Myles had done to try to avoid that fate had only made it more certain.

F
ather Samuel
double-locked his hotel door, and pulled the laptop from his bag. It took a few moments to turn on – time for Father Samuel to calm himself in silence. He pulled out the flyer from the ‘War and the Natural World’ event, and laid it next to the keyboard, hoping the technology would work.

Exactly as Dieter had shown him, he double-clicked on his ‘CCTV’ icon, then, when the prompt came up, filled in the time, date and location of the event. The computer programme began to search, then came back with:

Samuel clicked ‘Yes’, and the machine began to search some more.

A few moments later, four images came up, each showing a different CCTV image related to the event. Screenshots One, Three and Four were all from outside – either of people entering the venue, or the street outside. But Screenshot Two was perfect: a recording from inside the room. The camera was even centred on the main stage. And, just as he had hoped, there was a green tick in the corner beside the words ‘Audio Available.’ Father Samuel clicked on the image, and prepared to watch the show. He would have to thank Dieter for this.

To his dismay, the audience was not made up of the hippies and mystics he had expected. Instead, all the people looked respectable, intelligent and engaged. At the designated start time, the room was almost full.

‘…Our speaker has already made news by explaining how celestial bodies impact on human affairs,’ explained a blond woman, who seemed to be introducing the event. ‘Indeed, his recent exhibition is in danger of making astrology respectable….’ More laughter. ‘…So, Ladies and Gentlemen, let’s welcome the curator of the Imperial War Museum, Frank Wellesley.’

Father Samuel fast-forwarded through the applause. The main speaker needed a walking stick to stand up. Samuel smiled: God had punished the man already.

‘Every major civilisation has studied it - from Babylon, to ancient China, the Arab World and the Mayans of Central America,’ lectured the speaker. ‘And though their discoveries were far apart, their astrology was very close. So why is astrology today regarded as so unusual? Because it’s consigned to entertainment magazines. In the mind of the public, it’s alongside fortune cookies and water divining…’

‘And a good thing too,’ chuckled Father Samuel to himself. He fast-forwarded some more, until the speaker was gesticulating with two fingers.

‘Two big institutions have deliberately tried to discredit astrology,’ said Frank.

‘First,’ he counted, ‘The Christian Church.’

Father Samuel slumped, while Frank explained how Christianity had tried to absorb astrology. ‘Christmas day on the solstice, even though Jesus wasn’t born that day. Jesus on the cross during a solar eclipse. It’s all astrology. When the Roman Emperor Constantine took on Christianity, he made these things part of his new religion. And the three wise men who followed a star – Constantine made them kings. He was trying to buy astrologers with a crown.’

‘But later, when the Church was firmly in power,’ continued Frank, ‘It saw astrology as a threat - an alternative source of ideas and prophecy which had to be crushed. They did this through a Papal Edict in 1586: all astrologers were to be excommunicated. Even reading about astrology was officially made a sin,’ he explained. ‘It was a decision taken by the same Pope who banned contraception…’ There were a few laughs.

Father Samuel silently shook his head. The secret work of his Church had been exposed. He watched as Frank moved on to the second big institution he was accusing of a cover-up.

‘…But the even greater force to discredit astrology has been science. Science used to be about proving things through experiments. It was about seeing what really happened, and then trying to explain it. But now, science is the religion of our times, and men in white coats are its priests. Nobody dares say when science is wrong.…’ The audience was listening eagerly. ‘…That’s why, in my exhibition, I showed things which scientists pretend can’t be true…’

At last, something Father Samuel could agree with. Just like him, Frank Wellesley understood that science had got too big for itself.

‘…like the relationship between wars and eclipses. Alexander the Great, the Crusades, the First World War, the Korean War, even Kosovo and Ukraine – the link with eclipses is stronger than one-in-a-trillion. The evidence is right there, on the NASA website. And I think some scientists must have realised astrology had some truth in it,’ speculated Frank. ‘They knew they’d have to rethink their theories, and they’d be discredited. So they discredited the facts about astrology first. They made it fashionable for people to assume – without checking the data – that astrology was nonsense. Applying the scientific method to the correlation between planets and people was labelled ‘unscientific’. Committees didn’t just refuse to fund research on it, but destroyed the academic reputations of everyone who exposed the evidence. A French statistician by the name of Gauquelin was even assassinated for going public with the facts...’

Father Samuel cursed. He spooled forward to the end.

‘… So the challenge for us is not to show the relationship between the planets and human events. That’s easy,’ concluded the museum curator. ‘Most people know astrology is true, just as they have for thousands of years. The challenge is to use this knowledge for good purposes, and to keep it from people who would use it for evil.’

Father Samuel thumped the desk with his fist. This had gone way too far.

He delved in his bag for his communicator, switched it on, and hastily typed a new message to Dieter.

All means now valid. Destroy all Stolz papers. Call me.

He pressed ‘send’ and waited, hoping for a reply within a minute, as before. But there was none. A full ten minutes passed. Still nothing.
What had happened to Dieter?

And while he waited, his eyes wandered back to the CCTV footage, which he had allowed to run on. The speaker was dealing with questions, and one of the questioners looked familiar. A woman, poised and confident and with television hair. He recognised her now: that American TV journalist. He turned up the volume to hear her question.

‘Helen Bridle, CNN. If astrology’s true, how come nobody’s noticed it yet?’

Father Samuel froze.
Was a major broadcaster about to bring this heresy to the general public?

It was too much: he’d need a way to silence them all.

And for some, there was only one way to be sure of their silence.