The Maya Codex (9 page)

Von Heißen poured another generous shot of whisky into his tumbler.

‘Whisky, Signor?’ von Heißen offered Felici, who had returned to von Heißen’s tent.

‘Thank you, Herr Sturmbannführer. You’re well set up out here.’

‘I like to think so, and, please, it’s Karl,’ von Heißen replied, conscious of Himmler’s dictum to treat the papal envoy well. ‘So, what did the Professor have to say?’

‘He’s convinced the lost Maya Codex exists, although I wouldn’t trust him, Karl. He is, after all, a Jew,’ Felici intoned, raising his glass. ‘
Prost
.’

‘Yes, but don’t worry, we’re watching him very closely.
Prost!
Did he give you any idea what the codex might contain?’

Felici shook his head. ‘Other than being convinced it’s here somewhere, he was very vague, Karl. But if he does find it, I’d be very grateful if we could discuss it before any release to the wider world.’

‘Of course. We’re on the same side here. And how are things at the Vatican? I gather the Pontiff is not well.’

‘Deteriorating rapidly, I’m afraid,’ Felici agreed.

‘Any word on his likely replacement?’

‘Are you a betting man, Karl?’

Von Heißen smiled. ‘I’ve been known to have the odd wager, Signor.’

‘Then I’d put your money on the Cardinal Secretary of State, Eugenio Pacelli. If Pacelli’s elected, it’ll be a great boost for German–Vatican relations … The Cardinal Secretary of State is quite well disposed towards your Führer.’ Felici was stretching the truth a little. Pacelli, he knew, had serious reservations, but the concordat between Hitler and the Vatican had greatly strengthened the power of the Holy Church in Germany, and Pacelli saw the Nazis as offering the best hope against the advancing tide of Communism.

‘We should stay in touch,’ von Heißen opined, as he farewelled Felici from his tent. ‘Your proposal for a new Vatican Bank sounds very interesting. I’ve received word from Reichsführer Himmler himself that once this expedition is concluded, I will most likely be posted to Mauthausen in Austria. If you’re ever in Vienna, I know some excellent restaurants.’

Felici nodded, slightly unsteady on his feet. ‘I’m in Vienna two or three times a year on business, so I’ll look forward to that.
Gute Nacht und danke schön.’
Felici weaved his way towards his own tent, reflecting on the powerful forces gathering to Italy’s north, and von Heißen’s impeccable connections to the highest levels of the Reich.

Von Heißen reached for his diary and began to record the day’s events in characteristic detail.

Levi felt frustrated. In the nearly three months they’d been at Tikal, despite having sent several messages via the local villagers, Roberto Arana had not made contact. Levi leaned back in his canvas chair and looked out through the tent flap across the red-dirt airstrip. The day before, he’d received word to join the elders in the local village for a meal, and he wondered if Arana might at last appear tonight. In the time they’d been here, 129 skulls had been collected from around the ball court. Father Ehrlichmann had meticulously measured each one and made copious notes. And in that time Levi had also received several letters from Ramona, letters he was convinced had been opened. Levi was more homesick than ever for her touch, her laughter, and he worried about her safety and the safety of the children. He re-read the last paragraph of the letter he’d received earlier in the week.

I hope you won’t be away too much longer, darling. There are more Brownshirts on the streets than ever now, and Hitler is making more threats. I’ve sent you copies of
Wiener Zeitung
this week, and as you can see from the headlines, our own chancellor is stoically resisting the Nazis, but we are all wondering for how long. I miss you terribly, my sweet. I long for your touch.

Your Ramona. Always. xx

Levi knew he was running out of time. He’d thoroughly investigated Pyramids I, II, III, and IV, but without success. In Pyramid IV, he’d discovered a secret niche, much like the one where he’d discovered the male figurine in Pyramid I all those years ago, but the niche was empty. Had one of the figurines already been discovered by someone else? In the past week, he’d attempted to examine the small room beneath the decorative comb on top of Pyramid V, but each time he’d been disturbed by either von Heißen or Father Ehrlichmann. It was as if his every move was being watched. Somehow he would have to find a way to examine Pyramid V late at night, after von Heißen and Ehrlichmann had retired.

Levi looked at his watch: 5 p.m. Dusk was only an hour away. He would pay a courtesy visit to von Heißen’s tent on his way to meet the village elders.

‘Well, Herr Professor. To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?’ von Heißen sneered. The level in the bottle of Glenfiddich, one of several dozen von Heißen had insisted be included in the cargo, was well down.

‘Just to let you know I’m sharing a meal with the villagers tonight. I’m not sure what time I’ll be back.’

‘Why do you want to eat with the hired help?’ Von Heißen refilled his metal tumbler.

‘If you are to understand Mayan hieroglyphics, Sturmbannführer, you must first understand the culture, and in any case I consider it an honour to share a meal with these people. They have much to teach us.’

‘Well, that’s your view, Weizman. If you want to go and eat beans and bananas, I’m not going to stop you. But you might remind the head honcho down there that I’ve yet to see the young woman I pointed out to him. Her name was Itzy something or other …’ Von Heißen was already slurring his words. ‘We Germans are the descendants of the master race, Weizman, remind him of that, too.’

Levi turned on his heel, his anger rising. In von Heißen and Himmler’s twisted world, ancient skulls could somehow provide proof of the master race, while the modern Maya descendants somehow fell outside of their bizarre mathematical calculations. Levi strode across the dirt airstrip and when he reached the jungle track that led to the village, he stopped and took several deep breaths. It was pointless enough arguing with von Heißen when he was sober, he reminded himself, let alone when he was full of piss and wind.

The village was nearly three kilometres from the ruins, but Levi had only gone about half a kilometre when he sensed he was being followed. He turned to look back, peering past the heavy leaves and foliage hanging over the jungle track, but apart from a troop of howler monkeys above and the throaty squawks and screams of a pair of red macaws ahead, the track seemed deserted. Half an hour later he reached the river. The water ran swiftly, and the roar of the falls grew louder as Levi approached the rickety rope bridge that spanned the crossing point. It was hard to see in the eerie half-light, but again, Levi sensed movement a hundred metres or so along the track behind him. He moved off the track and waited.

7

VIENNA, MARCH 1938

I
t was still dark when Chancellor von Schuschnigg’s phone dragged him from the depths of an exhausted sleep. The Austrian Chancellor groped for the bedside-lamp switch and looked at his watch: 5.30 a.m.

‘Schuschnigg.’

‘Es tut mir leid Sie zu wecken, Herr Bundeskanzler,’
the Austrian Chief of Police apologised, ‘but the Germans have closed the border at Salzburg. All rail traffic has been halted and I have reports German troops are massing on the other side.’

Von Schuschnigg thanked him and hung up. Wearily he swung his feet out of bed and headed for the bathroom. An hour later his black Mercedes turned into the
Ballhausplatz
. A light dusting of snow glistened in the headlights.

Herr Seyss-Inquart, a young pro-Nazi lawyer, was waiting for him in the otherwise eerily quiet Chancellery.

‘It was a grave mistake to take a plebiscite to the people, Herr Bundeskanzler.’

‘The people were asked whether or not they wanted a free, independent Austria,
Ja oder Nein,’
von Schuschnigg responded angrily.

‘Hitler is furious. He sees it as an act of betrayal, a broken promise.’

‘You seem to have a direct line to Berlin,’ von Schuschnigg observed icily.

‘These are difficult times. I’m merely trying to achieve what is best for the Austrian people.’

‘We’re all trying to achieve that. And as far as promises go, I seem to remember we had an agreement with Herr Hitler that he would respect Austrian independence.’

‘He will still hold to that, Herr Bundeskanzler, but on one condition.’

‘Which is?’

‘You are to resign and I am to take your place,’ Seyss-Inquart replied bluntly, his face inscrutable.

‘Anything else?’ von Schuschnigg growled.

‘I can assure you such a move will save a lot of bloodshed. It is for the good of the Austrian people and for them alone.’

‘That is your view. I will give you my answer directly.’

The young women in the basement of the main telephone exchange in Vienna were keenly aware that something was afoot. For three hours, in a flurry of activity, they’d connected the President and the Bundeskanzler to some of the most important people in Austria and Europe. By early afternoon, von Schuschnigg and President Miklas had both given way to the inevitable.

Von Schuschnigg stared pensively out his office window at the snowy courtyard. Perhaps the agreement to restore some prominent Nazi officers to their posts in the police force had been a mistake, he thought grimly. The Chief of Police had warned him the government could no longer rely on its own police force. The army would fight, but von Schuschnigg knew they would eventually be overwhelmed. The cost in young Austrian lives would be horrific. It would be better, he’d assured the President, to accede to the German Führer’s wishes.