Nazi Gold

Chapter 26 — Contemplations of Glory

Radu’s skin was on fire. His small heart pulsed faster than a V8 piston as he panted under the blanket Greta had wrapped him in. The child’s top lip had a blister that appeared to have developed during the car ride to the jet, but that was several hours ago and they were now safely in the great sky where it would take any opposing agent ages to track them down and even then, by then, she would have had done what she came to do. Even with the few cards she possessed she would at least be able to do something. Just as she did the day before when she tried the Dealing herself, she managed to make some change on a minute scale. But these changes had always been corrupt because she was not the Dealer; and maybe she did after all need the entire deck to bring about the chaos she intended.

“Hold on, Schatz,” she said to Radu. His weak body wheezed with every breath while his eyes darted profusely under his venous lids. She wondered whether he was awake or having a nightmare. The boy was never supposed to get this ill. Hopefully he would come out of it before they reached Cluj-Napoca. Without his health and assistance he was of no used to her. In fact, if he perished she would be next. Radu was her only savior, the only person alive that could direct the cards with success.

“Another cognac, please,” she smiled at the flight attendant, who obliged with a smile and a nod.

With the fresh alcohol in her glass, Greta Heller sat back in her seat, just about praying away the last hours in the air. Her time was running out. She wanted to be alive to see the change her childhood mentors, followers of Heinrich Himmler, Alfred Rosenberg and Hermann Göring attempted. Maybe her feat would even surpass their ambitions, overshadow the very task Adolf Hitler failed at when the Black Sun was forced to temporarily disband after World War II. She would die a heroine, a martyr for the legacy of the Third Reich.

Radu, of course, would unfortunately not get any glory for his demise in the process. There was no place in the New Race for a Roma, god forbid! Greta was grateful that she managed to lay out the few, rather weak, tarot cards that she had in her possession. Never did she ever imagine she would place them just right to predict and cause the incident at the beer garden to bring Radu to her.

It had taken her a countless different spreads and failed attempts before she managed to draw the Boy card to get Radu to be pushed toward her and her party by fate. Greta knew that the failed attempts were detrimental to all those who would be involved in the great secret war, but a few déjà vus because of misplaced fate recovering itself was harmless. All she needed now was to locate Sam Cleave and take care of him and the evidence he had. With the help of her son, Igor, it would be a quick detour to using Radu to find the rest of the cards.

Finding the evidence against her and her mercenary hellhounds for the murder of the expedition team would be a great weight off her shoulders. Igor could not be burdened with Sam Cleave’s murder, because she needed him to remain nice and snug inside Petra Kulich’s inner sanctum. So it was up to her to kill Sam to tie up the loose ends on that matter. Then she had to find the Black Tarot. Incomplete, the maleficent suits could not link in and represent the full scope of existence, therefore using just a few restricted her from truly harnessing its black magic. After all, she could not expect to build a mansion with only eight bricks.

Her thoughts dwelled. She strayed a while through a million trivial thoughts before settling on Heinz. His face and his essence hit her out of nowhere and startled her. She could still hear him calling in the house, roaming the hallways to find her before he went in the study. Then her palms ached from the recollection of the writhing woman bleeding all over her while she had muffled her desperate squeals. Greta had never killed one of her own staff before. It almost disturbed her, but it had been necessary.

Heinz would be fine, she convinced herself. She did love him tremendously; there was no doubt about that. But her priorities were favored by power, not love. After all, being married was easily accomplished; even being loved was ridiculously easy to swing for a woman like Greta — but the power of infamy, of martyrdom, that was eternal. The world would always be a fool for a sacrificial hero.

‘It worked for Christ, did it not?’ she smiled to herself. The only difference was that she would die on her own terms, on a throne with the Black Sun sigil above her head like a raven halo and in her hand she would hold the Black Tarot like a scepter.

‘Heinz-Karl Heller. Love of my life. You will understand, won’t you? Of all people, you fathom the importance of a good name, of a strong legacy. You of all people know what it is like to serve the interests of your idols and mentors. You are a hard man, my darling. You are resilient and damn near invincible, my powerful Heinz. No woman is worth your relentless fighting spirit and your lion heart. Not even me….especially not me.’

Greta drank one drink after the other until she felt nauseous and light headed — more than usual. The fatigue was crippling her and she had to yield to the thrall of sleep, thankful that it would momentarily numb the excruciating pain that had grown beyond the point her pain meds were able to control. With only a an hour or two to go before landing in Romania, Greta decided to let the oblivion of sleep embrace her. She would have to be sharp when she reached Ground Zero of her rapidly approaching glory and a few hours of rest was imperative.

From the other side of the narrow luxury cabin Radu peeked, his eyelids barely apart and hidden by his long black lashes. He waited for Greta to fall asleep, pretending to be far sicker than he really was to have her leave him alone. He could not bear her controlling tyranny anymore. Who knew how far she would take this card game she constantly forced upon him? It pained the boy to abandon such luxury, not to mention the privileges bestowed on him as a member of the Heller household, but this woman was bat shit crazy. From what he had seen and endured while with her was simply not worth the spoils he was given.

The flight attendant came in briefly. When she saw that both the passengers were asleep she lowered the lights considerably to allow them the sleep peacefully for the remainder of the trip. The aircraft slid through the night sky over the earth sleeping quietly below the clouds that made a cotton wool barrier in between.

Too afraid to move at first, the boy waited a few minutes in the serene murmur of the jet.

Across from him the drunken adoptive mother from hell had passed out, her arms falling limply to her sides. Radu found her amusing now that she was a harmless cadaver with a pulse. Protruding between her lips was the tip of her tongue, vibrating every time her breath passed over and forced through under her heavy top lip. It made a fart noise that Radu could not ignore, as most kids could not, and he fought to keep his hearty laughter as quiet as he could.

His scrawny body shook under the giggle fit he developed with every fart she exhaled, but he managed to keep it in control. Besides, she was too drunk to even feel a backhand across the face right now.

Radu got up quietly and tiptoed through the warm, comfortable cabin and found Greta’s luggage. This time he chose to pass on her purse, because she would know if something was missing. But she was unlikely to check her luggage immediately. With a vigilant eye he watched her constantly as he unzipped the first suitcase.