T all and blond, with piercing blue eyes, Hauptsturmfuhrer von Hei?en embodied Himmler’s vision of the powerful male of the master race. Von Hei?en stood at the bar of Heim Hochland, the first of the Aryan-breeding homes Himmler had set up in the countryside to assist German girls to give birth to racially pure children. In a memo to the SS, Himmler had stressed the need for German births of good blood and urged his SS officers to spread their Aryan seed. Heim Hochland provided von Hei?en with the opportunity to sleep with a young woman of the right breeding, one who was free of the syphilis he’d encountered more than once in the brothels of Berlin.
Doctor Rainer Drechsler, a small, thin man with a nervous twitch in his right eye, watched without interest as one of the women under his care put on a gramophone record. Couples began to circle the dance floor to the sounds of a Decca recording of ‘Darling, My Heart Says Hello To You’. Von Hei?en had never mastered the art of dancing. Time to plant some seed, he thought, and he poured himself another Glenfiddich, spilling the malt whisky onto the white damask bar runner. He wandered over to Doctor Drechsler, glass in hand.
‘The sultry one in the red dress over there in the corner. She’s mine. Introduce me,’ he demanded thickly. Drechsler shrugged and moved towards the tall blonde sitting on her own at a table.
Von Hei?en followed unsteadily, stumbling against a table and knocking it over, sending the wine glasses to shatter on the wooden floor.
‘May I present Miss Katrina Baumgartner,’ the doctor intoned impassively.
Katrina looked up. Her eyes were pale blue and her skin milky white.
‘Von Hei?en. Hauptsturmfuhrer Karl von Hei?en,’ the SS captain slurred, clicking his heels. ‘What are you drinking, Fraulein?’
‘I don’t drink, Hauptsturmfuhrer,’ Katrina Baumgartner replied coolly, eyeing von Hei?en with disdain.
‘Nonsense.’ Von Hei?en snapped his fingers at one of the dining-room staff. ‘ Rotwein fur das Fraulein. Where are you from?’ he asked, pulling out a chair.
‘Berlin,’ Katrina replied, her eyes glazed with boredom.
‘And what brings you here?’ Von Hei?en leered.
‘I’ve been assigned to the Lebensborn program, so I didn’t have much choice. But surely you know that, Hauptsturmfuhrer.’
‘Quite an honour,’ von Hei?en observed, ‘for a woman to be able to serve the greater Reich. I myself am about to deploy to the jungles of Guatemala, although that is top secret. Tomorrow I will meet with Reichsfuhrer Himmler, who has personally selected me for the mission. We are going to search for archaeological evidence that the Aryans were at the heart of the great Mayan civilisation.’
Katrina raised a sceptical eyebrow.
‘We will also be looking for a secret codex that’s been missing for centuries. It could be of great value to the Reich!’
‘If it’s top secret, then perhaps you shouldn’t be talking about it?’
‘You, I can trust,’ von Hei?en slurred. ‘You’re on the program, and you’re of good German stock. If you were a Jew or a gypsy, it would be quite a different matter.’
‘And if I told you I have a number of Jewish friends who are good, decent citizens?’
‘Then I would advise you to be careful, Fraulein. Very careful. Have you read The Protocols of the Elders of Zion?’
‘Should I have?’
‘Most certainly. I will arrange for a copy to be sent to you. The Fuhrer himself has endorsed it…’ Von Hei?en reached for his glass, almost toppling out of his chair. ‘Anyway, for the moment, I’m going to have to put up with a Jewish professor on my expedition, although he will have a use-by date.’ Von Hei?en’s laugh was deep and guttural. ‘But it’s very noisy in here,’ he added, standing and reaching unsteadily for Katrina’s hand. ‘Let’s go to your room.’
She looked at him, contemptuous of his highly polished knee-high boots and the immaculately tailored Hugo Boss uniform, all black save for the red-and-black Nazi swastika armband. She reluctantly rose from the table.
Von Hei?en sat on the side of the bed and wrestled with his boots. ‘I’d get into something very comfortable if I were you,’ he said lustfully.
Katrina Baumgartner let her red dress fall to the carpet of her large, comfortably furnished room. Her black lace bra and knickers contrasted with her smooth white skin.
Von Hei?en ogled her long legs and struggled out of the rest of his uniform. He stood up and lurched towards her. Katrina sidestepped his advance and von Hei?en stumbled back against the bed.
‘Not very ready, are we, Hauptsturmfuhrer?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, look at it,’ she said, laughing as she slipped into bed. ‘Any smaller and I wouldn’t be able to find it.’ It was a dangerous, albeit calculated ploy. Katrina knew well that the more pressure a man was under to get it up, the higher the failure rate, especially amongst the arrogant Officer Corps. She couldn’t have known, of course, that von Hei?en’s first girlfriend had also had a fit of the giggles, or that von Hei?en had been forced to find solace in the brothels of Berlin ever since.
‘Fick dich!’ Von Hei?en swung his fist at Katrina, but she deftly swayed to one side. He bellowed in pain as he connected with the bedhead, falling back onto the pillows.
‘I wouldn’t try that again, if I were you, Hauptsturmfuhrer,’ she warned, picking up the buzzer from the bedside table. ‘I might have been forced on to this program, but this alarm is connected to the Security Office, and unless you behave, I will call them. Now,’ she said, raising one eyebrow, ‘are you going to get that thing up? Perhaps you’d like another whisky before you try?’
Von Hei?en sat back against the pillows and nursed his hand, his bloodshot eyes blazing with anger. Katrina got out of bed and walked over to the sideboard. ‘Down this,’ she said, returning with a large tumbler of Chivas, ‘it’ll put you in the mood.’
Von Hei?en glared at her, drained the tumbler in one gulp and handed it back. Katrina refilled it and wandered over to the gramophone player. She took her time sorting through the records, finally choosing some soft music. She turned to find von Hei?en lolling against the pillows, his eyes half closed.
The next morning, Katrina eased herself out of bed, dressed quietly and went for a long walk. Depressed and trapped, she followed the narrow path up into hills shrouded in mist.
It was getting on towards midmorning when von Hei?en’s driver reached Kassel, where the Brothers Grimm had lived and written their fairytales. They turned east towards the Alme Valley, but von Hei?en didn’t notice. He was still seething over the night before, the details of which he recorded meticulously in his diary. Less than an hour later, the big Mercedes came to a halt in the stone courtyard of Wewelsburg Castle. Von Hei?en alighted and stretched. From the hillside above the village of Wewelsburg, the castle had views over the Westphalian forests and the rolling farmland dotted with small stone cottages. Von Hei?en stared up at the castle’s massive stone walls. It had been built on a rare, triangular footprint and three towers commanded each apex.
‘Heil Hitler, Herr Hauptsturmfuhrer!’ The young SS lieutenant snapped to attention and gave the Nazi salute. ‘I am Untersturmfuhrer Bosch. Welcome to Wewelsburg.’ Leutnant Bosch was a centimetre taller than von Hei?en, and his light-brown hair was thick and wavy, brushed straight back off his broad forehead. His deep-blue eyes held an intensity of purpose.
‘I’ve been assigned to look after you while you’re here, Herr Hauptsturmfuhrer,’ Bosch said. ‘Professor Weizman is already in his room and will join you and the Reichsfuhrer for lunch. Please follow me and I’ll take you down to the hall where Reichsfuhrer Himmler is addressing the officers.’
Bosch led the way across a cobblestone bridge. The stone arch spanned the castle’s protective moat. Von Hei?en followed him through the huge arched wooden doors and down a flight of heavy stone steps. Wrought-iron lamps threw an eerie glow against the solid rock walls.
‘This is the Grail room,’ Bosch explained, as they passed a chamber containing a huge, illuminated rock crystal representing the Holy Grail. ‘And in here,’ he said, lowering his voice, ‘is the Obergruppen-fuhrer Hall.’ Bosch eased the heavy wooden door open and led the way to the rear of a hall that was decorated with ancient runes. The inner walls and arches were supported by stone columns and a large black iron wheel hung from the ceiling. It supported seven lamps, and a mirror image of the wheel had been reproduced on the marble floor. About fifty SS officers, all dressed in their black uniforms, were listening intently to their Reichsfuhrer.
‘Breeding will be the basis of our success, gentlemen. In animal breeding one has known it for a long time. If anyone wants to buy a horse, he will sensibly take advice from someone who is a horse expert.’ Himmler had a high-pitched voice, but, like Hitler, his oratory was charged with a hypnotic power. ‘The best bloodlines will always produce champions, but centuries of Christian education have caused us to lose sight of this,’ he said, looking over his gold-rimmed glasses. ‘The Christians regard a shapely human body in a bathing suit as somehow sinful!’ Raucous laughter echoed off the stone walls.
‘It is your duty to breed from sound, shapely Nordic stock. We will have fought in vain if political victory is not followed by births of good blood. The question of multiplicity of children is not the private affair of the individual, but his duty towards his ancestors and our people. The existence of a sound marriage is futile if it does not result in the creation of numerous descendants. The minimum number of children for a good marriage is four. That doesn’t mean I want you or your officers to marry the first girl who might appear to meet our requirements. Without being tactless, you should get the girl to tell you a little about her family. If she discloses that her father shot himself, or an aunt or a cousin is in a lunatic asylum, you must do the decent thing. At all times the SS officer must behave with decorum. He should say openly, “I’m sorry, but I can’t marry you; there are too many diseases in your family.” ’
Von Hei?en nodded approvingly.
‘Now, before we break for lunch, we have time to take one or two questions.’
A tall flaxen-haired major rose to attention. ‘What do you think is the greatest problem facing Germany today, Herr Reichsfuhrer?’
‘Identify yourself.’
‘Sturmbannfuhrer Austerlitz, Herr Reichsfuhrer.’
‘That is an excellent question,’ Himmler said, coming out from behind the lectern. The SS major sat down, beaming at the compliment.
‘Quite apart from the need for Lebensraum – more land for the Third Reich to reach its potential,’ Himmler responded, ‘we must recapture the lost world of the Nordic race. We must restore das Herrenvolk, the master race, to its position of pre-eminence, and to provide a foundation for that, we have to reconstruct the lost history of the Aryans. With that in mind, we are shortly launching several archaeological expeditions to prove the origins and influence of the master race, including one to the highland jungles of Guatemala. Hauptsturmfuhrer von Hei?en, who has now joined us, will be leading this expedition. Perhaps you might like to comment on your mission, von Hei?en.’
‘Certainly, Herr Reichsfuhrer. The source of the pure Aryan race is crucially important, gentlemen,’ von Hei?en explained, unfazed by the more senior ranks in the room. ‘Why? Because ancient Germanic tribes demonstrated far greater intellect and creativity than any other civilisation of their time. If our research can recover this knowledge, it will help the Third Reich to once again excel in science, medicine, agriculture and every other field of human endeavour. The German Nordic race is at the apex of humankind, while races like the Jews, the African Bushmen and the Australian Aborigines are at the very bottom.’
Himmler beamed at his young protege. ‘For the moment, the Africans and the Australians don’t concern us, but the Jews, together with gypsies and homosexuals, are quite another matter. The Fuhrer will very shortly introduce the Law for the Prevention of Hereditarily Diseased Offspring. This will enable us to sterilise the mentally retarded, the blind, the deaf, the schizophrenic – anyone who is likely to impede our glorious progress. The Jews will require special attention, of course.’ Reichsfuhrer Himmler nodded to Obersturmbannfuhrer Manfred von Knobelsdorff, the commandant of the new SS Nordic Academy, indicating to the colonel that it was time for lunch.
Levi Weizman perused Der Angriff. The paper was, he knew, sponsored by the Nazis’ Minister for Enlightenment and Propaganda, Joseph Goebbels, but it was the only one in his room. To his surprise Levi found a story on Catholics, but his surprise at it appearing in a Nazi paper turned to excitement: Archbishop of Paris Crowns Our Lady of Hope THE CATHOLIC ARCHBISHOP of Paris, Cardinal Jean Verdier, has crowned a statue of the Virgin Mary at Pontmain in the north of France. The Virgin Mary appeared to two children in Pontmain on 17 January 1871, during the Franco-Prussian war. The war ended in a crushing victory for the German and Prussian forces, which saw the unification of the German Empire under King Wilhelm I, and the total destruction of the French Empire.
Levi now understood why the article had been approved for publication. The detestable little Goebbels never missed a chance to trumpet a German victory. In a message to the children at Pontmain, the Blessed Mother asked them to pray, giving the war-torn community hope, and the Armistice was signed a few days later in Versailles. The Cardinal Secretary of State, Eugenio Pacelli, in a decree issued from St Peter’s Basilica in Rome, has affirmed the veneration of ‘Our Lady of Hope’ of Pontmain, as the appearance has become known, and declared that her statue be honoured with a crown of gold. Cardinal Verdier crowned the statue of the Blessed Mother in the presence of other bishops and priests. There have been several verified appearances of the Virgin Mary, the most famous of which was at Fatima, Portugal in 1917. Watched by a crowd of several thousand, many of whom confirmed the sightings, the Blessed Mother appeared at Fatima a total of six times, on the thirteenth day of each month, from May until October.
Levi took a deep breath, recalling the stela he’d discovered in Pyramid V in Tikal. Although the Maya had not specified an exact year, the ancient hieroglyphics had indicated that such a series of events would occur on the thirteenth day of each month from May until October – events that would be of great consequence to humankind. Was there a connection between the warnings the Virgin had delivered at Fatima and the Maya Codex, Levi wondered. Could that explain the Vatican’s interest in the ancient civilisation and the presence of a Catholic priest in Tikal? How could the ancient Maya have known these appearances would occur? And what might it have to do with 2012? Levi shook his head. So many questions, but, as yet, so few answers. Levi was convinced there was a great deal more to the ancient Maya than even he had previously thought.
Levi had been taken aback by his host’s genial charm. It hadn’t been long, though, before the facade of bonhomie had completely vanished. The study room in the Wewelsburg Castle north tower was sombrely decorated with swastikas and runes, matching Himmler’s change in mood. It was already clear to Levi that his participation in the Tikal expedition would not be voluntary.
‘Are you familiar with craniometry and the cephalic index, Professor?’
Levi nodded without commenting. He had long believed the Nazis’ philosophy of using ‘head shape’ and ‘nose shape’ as measures of racial categorisation to be a dark stain on the social science of anthropology.
‘Then you will not need reminding of the importance I attach to the collection of Mayan skulls. They are to be brought back to Wewelsburg for examination and classification. It will be in your own interest to give us your full cooperation,’ Himmler added, before turning to his young protege. ‘Hauptsturmfuhrer von Hei?en will be in charge of the expedition, although you will, of course, direct the archaeological exploration, so we will need your lists of supplies as soon as possible. Von Hei?en will ensure that the necessary officers are on hand to assist you.’
Levi nodded, Ramona’s warnings ringing in his ears. Himmler got up from the table and walked over to a small stone aperture overlooking the village.
‘In time this castle will represent the zenith of racial science,’ he said, leaning on the stone ledge. ‘The village of Wewelsburg will be an SS city, and this castle will be the Vatican of the world. I wish you a pleasant stay, Professor,’ Himmler said, dismissing Levi with a curt nod.
‘I want you to depart as soon as possible,’ Himmler ordered von Hei?en.
‘ Jawohl, Herr Reichsfuhrer. We’ve already started assembling the stores, and I’ve made contact with our embassy in Guatemala City. They’re doing everything possible to clear the diplomatic hurdles.’
‘Excellent! Generaloberst Goring has assured me that an aircraft and crew will be made available for the duration of your time in Guatemala. In the meantime watch Weizman carefully, von Hei?en. The Jew is as cunning as a sewer rat and is never to be trusted.’
‘There was no one else, Herr Reichsfuhrer?’
‘No one with the necessary skills in reading the Mayan hieroglyphics, no. But we can dispense with him once the expedition is successful. More importantly, I’ve also met with the papal envoy, Signor Alberto Felici, who plans to visit the expedition. Felici’s arranged substantial sponsorship from Vatican finances, so he’s to be treated well. In return, he’s asked for a Father Ehrlichmann to join the expedition in an official capacity. Amongst other things, Ehrlichmann is an expert on craniometry, so he’ll undoubtedly be useful, but he’s to be trusted no more than Weizman or Felici.’
‘There is another agenda, Herr Reichsfuhrer?’
‘Perhaps. The Vatican only shows an interest in archaeological digs when they fear what might be found. You’ve seen the cable from our ambassador in Guatemala raising the possibility of a missing codex purported to contain a catastrophic warning for the human race. As to the precise nature of that warning, Weizman and the Vatican will both have their theories… We shall see. But if the codex does exist, the Jew can lead us to it.’