The Maya Codex (15 page)

‘
Jawohl, Obersturmbannführer
. There’s a safe in the study, but it’s locked.’

‘Is there now?’ A look of satisfaction spread across von Heißen’s face. ‘The Jew will open it,’ he said, again raising Levi’s chin with his cane.

Levi steadied his hand and inserted the key into the safe. He opened it and stepped back, silently praying for Ramona and the children.

Von Heißen surveyed the contents of the large strongbox in which Levi and Ramona stored their most precious possessions. The strongbox contained over 4000 schillings, proceeds from Ramona’s boutique she had yet to convert to the new Reichsmark. ‘No figurine,’ von Heißen observed angrily. The disappointment in his voice was palpable. He rifled through the rest of the contents: Ramona’s jewellery and three gold menorahs, the seven arms a symbol of the burning bush encountered by Moses on Mount Horeb. Von Heißen picked up a solid gold cross. At its centre was an exquisite ruby surrounded by twelve large diamonds. Von Heißen turned the cross over in his hand.

Levi struggled to remain calm. The pectoral cross had been discovered by his great-grandfather at an archaeological dig on the Mount of Olives, just outside of Jerusalem, and it had been in Levi’s family for four generations. Its lineage could be traced back to the Third Crusade, Richard the Lionheart and Saladin, the Sultan of Egypt.

‘Get this scum onto the trucks,’ von Heißen ordered, closing the strongbox and pocketing the keys.

Levi wrenched his arm away from a Sonderkommando. ‘I need to get dressed!’

Von Heißen’s laugh was evil. ‘Put him on the truck. He won’t need any clothes where he’s going.’

Von Heißen moved to the front window and watched the young Brownshirts shove Levi over the tailboard of the truck parked below. It had snowed heavily during the night, and the icy cobblestones glinted in the winter dawn. Further down
Judengasse
, more Jews were being rounded up for transportation to Mauthausen, but von Heißen still felt cheated. Behind him, the Sonderkommandos and Brownshirts were systematically ripping Levi’s apartment to pieces, but there was no sign of the missing jade. Perhaps, von Heißen thought angrily, the figurine was in Guatemala after all. The Jew would still pay, he vowed. Von Heißen turned on his heel and headed back into the apartment, passing within one metre of the two figurines lying hidden beneath the floorboard.

Levi put one arm around Ramona, and his other around Rebekkah and Ariel. Rebekkah was sobbing as she buried her blonde curls into her father’s chest. Ramona had managed to convince a sympathetic corporal to allow her and the children to dress, but Levi was still in his pyjamas, shivering in the cold.

‘Where are these men taking us, Papa?’ Rebekkah sobbed.

Levi kissed her curls and held his daughter more tightly. ‘We’ll see … it’ll be all right,
Liebchen
,’ Levi whispered, comforting his little girl as best he could.

They crossed the Danube at Emmersdorf, and Levi could tell they were now moving along the north bank, the trees heavy with snow. He rubbed his hands to get his circulation going, Rebekkah and Ariel asleep at his left shoulder. Ramona rested her head on his right. Nearly two hours later they slowed through the little town of Mauthausen, and a few kilometres further on the lorry wound its way up a small hill before coming to a halt at the massive wooden doors of the concentration camp. The guards checked the driver’s papers and made a cursory check of the human cargo in the back before opening the gates. The truck ground into the lower courtyard and lurched to stop.

An SS captain and a dozen SS guards were waiting in the compound.

‘Get them out of the truck and line them up against the wall,’ the Hauptsturmführer barked.

Levi hugged his children and his wife. ‘God will protect us,’ he whispered.

Levi, Ramona and the children were in the middle of the lineup, and Levi looked around cautiously, shivering in his slippers and pyjamas. The camp was enclosed by high stone walls topped with barbed wire. At regular intervals along their length the walls were interrupted by massive granite watchtowers covered with slate roofs. Like some macabre university of death, the lower compound into which they’d been delivered was ringed by meticulously constructed stone cloisters. In the sentry box at the far end of the cloisters, Levi could see two guards silently sweeping the barrels of their machine guns across the group of prisoners. Levi detected a sudden apprehension amongst the guards as the big doors through which they’d just entered were opened again.

‘Achtung!’
A dozen guards doubled out from the main guardhouse and formed up, rifles at the ready.

‘Heil Hitler!’
The guard commander snapped to attention, his right arm thrust forward in salute, as von Heißen’s black Mercedes swept into the courtyard. Von Heißen alighted, acknowledged the salute from his adjutant and strolled over to the group of prisoners, habitually tapping his leather cane against his knee-high boots. He slowly wandered down the line, and then stopped in front of Ariel, who had one hand in his pocket.

‘What have you got in your pocket, boy?’

Ariel stared at the ground, not answering, his bottom lip quivering. Von Heißen levered Ariel’s chin up with his cane. ‘Give it to me!’

Levi moved to protect his son, but von Heißen lashed out with his cane and a guard slammed Levi back into the wall.

‘I said, give it to me, boy!’

Ariel, tears welling in his eyes, handed over one of the maps he’d concealed in his pocket, the one with the bearings superimposed over Lake Atitlán. ‘So, what do we have here?’ von Heißen demanded, turning his attention to Levi.

‘A child’s drawing,’ Levi responded quietly.

‘Liar!’ Von Heißen slashed Levi’s face again and Ramona began to sob.

‘You dare defy the Third Reich?
Sturmscharführer!
’

‘
Obersturmbannführer!
’ The short, dumpy senior NCO clicked his heels together. His uniform was stretched against his barrel-like form, his collar straining to contain thick purple jowls. Sturmscharführer Schmidt had been specially selected for the appointment as Mauthausen Camp Sergeant Major, not least for his vicious hatred of the Jews. In over twenty-five years in the Wehrmacht, and now in the SS prison guard ‘Death’s Head’ division, Schmidt had never seen a shot fired in anger. Incapable of original thought, the sadistic and subservient Schmidt was determined to keep it that way. He was hated by prisoners and guards alike, but he had qualities von Heißen found useful.

‘Take this scum to the guard barracks and have them clean the latrines.’

‘Jawohl, Obersturmbannführer!’

Von Heißen pushed his cane under Levi’s chin again. ‘And you will clean the latrines until they sparkle. It will give you time to think about being a little more cooperative.’ Von Heißen turned on the heel of his immaculately polished boot and strode away.

Schmidt marched the ragged column up the steps at the end of the cloisters and on towards the main entrance of the prisoner compound, where two massive stone towers stood sentinel on either side of the gate. Levi looked to the left. Men and women were chipping rocks from the face of a granite cliff and carrying them to large wooden hoppers. Several women were straining to push a full hopper, their screams carrying across the quarry when a guard bashed them with a heavy wooden club. Beyond the women, men were carrying large rocks on their shoulders, forced at gunpoint to run up a steep granite staircase that led to a cliff.

The guards shoved Levi and the rest of the group into the barrack-room toilet. A vile stink permeated the air.

‘Most appropriate, don’t you think?’ Schmidt sneered. Ariel coughed and held his nose. ‘Jewish
Scheisse
cleaning SS
Scheissen-häuser!’
Schmidt’s laugh was harsh and he manhandled Levi towards one of the open cubicles. The stench was overpowering. Schmidt grabbed Levi by the neck and shoved his head into the bowl. He yanked the chain and reeking faeces cascaded through Levi’s hair and up his nose.

Levi fell back and vomited.

‘My tallit, Levi. They made me clean the toilet with my prayer shawl,’ Ramona sobbed quietly as they were marched back towards an empty barrack block.

‘
Lichte löchen
. Lights out,’
Scharführer
Schaub growled, and he flicked the switch. Levi had assessed the young German corporal as being one of the few decent guards he’d encountered during their arrest, so he was surprised when Schaub approached his bunk.

‘You! Outside!’

Emotionally and physically exhausted, Levi offered no resistance when Schaub shoved him towards the door, closing it behind them once they were outside the barrack block.

‘We don’t have much time, so listen carefully,’ Schaub said quietly, dragging Levi out of the circle of light thrown by a naked bulb hanging above the barrack-room door. ‘I’m sorry for what you’re going through. We’ll try to get you out as soon as we can; but it’s too dangerous at the moment, although we’re working on a plan for the children. If Ariel and Rebekkah are transferred to laundry duties, don’t try to keep them with you, and tell them to do exactly as they’re told.’

‘How do you know their names … Who are you?’ Levi asked, struggling to comprehend the message from the SS guard.

‘That doesn’t matter. The Jewish Agency in Istanbul is all you need to know.’

The door to the barracks on the opposite side of the compound suddenly opened.

Levi winced as Schaub struck him across the face. ‘You Jewish scum! What are you doing outside after lights out? Get back inside!’

16

MAUTHAUSEN, 20 APRIL 1938

T
he day had dawned overcast and cold, and von Heißen’s boots crunched on the fresh spring snow as he returned from his inspection of the camp. Von Heißen was determined that Reichsführer Himmler’s visit and the celebrations for Hitler’s birthday would go off without a hitch. Reaching his headquarters, he descended the stone steps that led to a large cellar beneath the building. Only two people were allowed into what was effectively a strong room: himself and his batman, the latter charged with melting down Jewish jewellery and the piles of gold fillings that were extracted each time the bodies were cleared from ‘the showers’ beneath the hospital. Von Heißen felt the side of the small furnace he’d had installed alongside one of the stone walls. It was still warm from the night before. Satisfied, he dialled the combination to the huge safe at the rear of the cellar.

Excellent, he mused, picking up the ten-kilogram ingot his batman had added to the six already stored in the vault. The bars were stamped with the eagle and swastika, giving the impression they were being produced to bolster the coffers of the Reich, but von Heißen had a very different plan. He’d already invited il Signor Felici to visit. The powerful envoy’s contacts within the Vatican, a nation state outside the jurisdiction of either Hitler’s Reich or Mussolini’s Italy, would, he thought, be very useful. The SS colonel opened one of the vault drawers and extracted the pectoral cross he’d discovered in the Weizman safe, one of a number of items his batman had been instructed to store separately. Other than its possible monetary value, the cross held no particular attraction for von Heißen, but he’d already determined that it might mean quite a lot to someone like Felici. He returned the cross to its drawer, closed the vault door and headed back to his office.

Sitting behind his large mahogany desk, von Heißen turned his attention again to the strange piece of paper he’d recovered from the Jewish boy. A child’s drawing? The yellow painted shape might be, but why would a boy of ten draw a series of lines and then assign what looked like bearings to them? Was it worth keeping his miserable father alive to find out? Under normal circumstances it might be, at least to give the usual methods of persuasion time to work, but von Heißen was very aware of the threat the Jewish archaeologist posed. The longer Weizman was alive, the greater the danger of word leaking out about the discovery of the figurine. There was only one man von Heißen genuinely feared: if Himmler ever found out, he’d be finished.