Templar's Quest

76

Seven Research Facility

0528 hours

Ivo Uhlemann carefully set the phonograph needle on to the vinyl disk.

His choice of music admittedly ironic, he walked over to the rosewood bureau as the opening strains of Wagner’s Götterdämmerung reverberated throughout his private study. He’d always considered the 1966 recording by the Berlin Philharmonic the classic rendition of the operatic cycle.

The irony, of course, was that the fall of the Third Reich had been Germany’s great Götterdämmerung. Not Brünnhilde’s immolation. What happened in April of 1945 was the true ‘ Twilight of the gods’.

Wracked with pain, Ivo gingerly opened the bureau’s top drawer and removed a wooden box with a carved sun wheel on the lid. An authentic Ahnenerbe-commissioned chest, he’d paid an exorbitant price for it at a private auction. It’d always angered him, as it did his father, that Himmler and his cronies misappropriated the Sonnenrad Hakenkreutz symbol, foolishly believing that the swirling energy that radiated from the Black Sun, Sirius, would somehow magically transform them into avatars. Fools! All of them! They could not comprehend that Sirius was simply a key to unlock the door of space and time.

Ivo lifted the lid and removed his drug paraphernalia. As he did so, he glanced dismissively at the Iron Cross in the bottom of the box. He’d been awarded the medal on 20 April 1945 by Adolf Hitler in the bomb-blasted Chancellery Garden. To this day, he could still envision in his mind’s eye the tottering Führer who, his brain addled, destroyed by the cancer of occultism, would lead the glorious Reich into fiery defeat.

It could have been different. Had men of greater intelligence been making the decisions. But the occult wing of the German high command had been trapped in a hall of mirrors which, ironically, they had created. For them, indeed, for the whole of Germany, there was no escape from the madness.

Soon that would all change. Soon the Reich would be created anew.

Stepping over to his upholstered chaise longue, Ivo carefully sat down, every movement inciting an agonized riot. At the end of the elongated chair, Wolfgang slept peacefully, curled in a furry ball.

A few moments later, as the pain-numbing heroin coursed through his veins, he reclined on the chaise longue. While science and mathematics spoke to the mind, art, literature and music spoke to the soul of mankind. A universal language that could inspire greatness. Overcome by the rich orchestral tones, he closed his eyes and dreamed the sweetest of dreams.

Of a different world. A different childhood. One in which he didn’t have to join the Hitler-Jugend because there would be no need for children to do the work of men. To martyr themselves for their fathers. How very sweet. And in this different, better world, his father would come home each evening after teaching at the university, greeted with a warm kiss from his wife Berthe and big hug from his son Ivo. The smell of Aprikosenkuchen baking in the oven would swirl around the three of them like a heavenly apricot cloud. Sweeter, yet. And, later, freed from the onerous burden of fulfilling his father’s dream, Ivo wouldn’t have had to become a physicist. He could follow his own passions and inclinations. Perhaps become an art historian. Yes, very sweet indeed.

‘Is there anything that I can get for you?’

On hearing Angelika’s voice, Ivo opened his eyes. Breathtakingly lovely, she stood in the doorway, a concerned look on her face.

His beautiful dark angel.

When Angelika was just a small child, she had begun to exhibit vicious tendencies, deriving pleasure from the pain of others. First insects. Then small animals. Then other children. Since her mother had abandoned her, Ivo had full responsibility for raising the child. Faced with a thorny dilemma – to institutionalize Angelika or to keep her with him, he settled for the latter. Which meant that he had to find a way to channel her homicidal urges. To teach Angelika how to kill judiciously. While he was not always successful, he’d done the best he could.

Blut und Ehre. Blood and honour. And family. The holy trinity.

‘I am fine. Thank you for checking.’ Patting the Schnauzer’s head one last time, he smiled wistfully and said, ‘Take Wolfgang with you, please. You know what must be done.’

Ivo watched as the docile little beast obediently trotted after the beautiful Angel of Death.

Although he had every confidence that das Groß Versuch would be successful, there was always the possibility of a calamitous error. That was the reason why the board members of the Seven Research Foundation would observe the proceedings via CCTV from the safety of an off-site location. Because of his terminal illness, his death a certainty, Ivo was the only one among them who would be physically present for the Vril generation. On the off-chance that something went wrong during das Groß Versuch, he had every confidence that the board members would continue their fathers’ work. Committed, they would discover what went wrong and make the necessary adjustments so that, next year on the heliacal rising, they could attempt the experiment again. But, this year, the honour was his alone.

Staring at the ceiling, Ivo imagined himself as the Rücken-figur, that solitary figure in a Caspar David Friedrich painting, always seen from behind, gaze set on the horizon.

He closed his eyes, the moment too sublime for words.

Dein Reich koimme. Thy kingdom come. On earth as it is in heaven. The fate of the Reich linked to one particular star in the heavenly firmament.

Very soon now.