The Doomsday Testament

XXV

‘Please place the paper back on the floor.’

The flat voice had a distinct Berlin accent and came from the direction of the torch. Jamie became aware of shadowy figures moving inside the ring of pillars. Twelve of them. Why wasn’t he surprised. Somewhere within him a dangerous stillness developed. He recognized it from his OTC days and an escape and evasion course that had gone wrong. He had fallen into the hands of three ugly Paras who thought it would be fun to haze a posh boy for a change. They told him what they were going to do to him and showed him the broomstick they were going to do it with. They’d expected him to piss himself with fear, but all he felt was the stillness. And from within the stillness the beast had emerged. He remembered an arm snapping and yellow teeth flying. They’d got him in the end, of course, and they might have killed him if the marshal hadn’t appeared. Instead, he’d been given the option of joining them. That was then. This was now. He began backing towards the doorway, but two of the shadows moved to block the only exit. His first priority was to protect Sarah, and for the moment the only way to protect Sarah was to submit. Or at least appear to submit. He willed the beast back into his lair and nodded to her to do as the voice ordered. She glared at him, but retrieved the tracing from her bag and reluctantly placed it back over the sun symbol before stepping away.

A tall man in a dark suit entered from the direction of the torch, stooped to pick up the tracing and returned the way he came. He was silhouetted against the light and Jamie couldn’t see his face, but he had an impression of absolute control and athletic strength. A grunt of acknowledgement seemed to indicate satisfaction.

‘This is a sacred place. Why are you here?’

‘I see nothing sacred about a Nazi chicken farmer’s obsession with King Arthur.’ The beast might be docile, but he still had a tongue. ‘And judging by the fact that you haven’t put the lights on, I’d say we have as much right to be here as you have. Who are you people, anyway?’

For a moment the hatred in the room was so palpable he could feel the fingers reaching for his throat, but the insult seemed to have no effect on the man who had spoken. ‘You may call me Frederick. As for my friends, they would prefer to remain anonymous for now.’

Something told Jamie that Frederick’s willingness to be candid wasn’t good news and the German’s next question confirmed the suspicion. ‘What is your interest in the Black Sun?’

‘As you can see,’ Jamie pointed towards the paper in Frederick’s hands, ‘our interest is purely artistic.’ Frederick didn’t laugh, but then it hadn’t been much of a joke. The silence that followed was more eloquent than any words and Jamie sensed Sarah moving closer and slightly behind him. She froze as the double click of an automatic pistol being cocked split the graveyard atmosphere and Jamie’s body did its best to disappear into itself as it awaited the strike of the first bullet. Frederick continued as if nothing had happened. Either he enjoyed the sound of his own voice or somebody somewhere was checking that the interlopers didn’t have back-up who might arrive to spoil the party.

‘You went to great lengths to keep your visit here secret; for us that is not so necessary. Did you think that those for whom this castle holds the same reverence as your St Paul’s Cathedral would be kept from it by a few provincial bureaucrats? We belong here. We are the inheritors. The keepers of the truth. The mysteries enacted in this room are beyond your capacity for understanding. If our predecessors had succeeded in what they attempted here the world would be a different place. A better place that would not have had to endure sixty years of the corrupt, putrescent influence of Communism.’

‘A world ruled by Nazis?’ The inner stillness returned and the monster took a distinctly human form. He focused on Frederick. When the time came, he would take him first. ‘I don’t think I would have liked to live in that world.’

‘Do not be confused by labels, Mr Saintclair.’ Jamie winced at the sound of his name. Clearly this wasn’t the chance encounter Frederick had let him believe. But what else did he know? And how did he come to know it? The German’s voice took on a new authority as he continued. ‘Let us say a world ruled by those with the qualities to rule: authority, resolve, organization and ambition. Men of pure heart and pure vision. Men with the courage to remake the world. Men like those who stood where we stand now more than half a century ago. When the time came they did not hesitate. They stepped forward to take their place in history, because it was their duty.’

While Frederick talked Jamie allowed his senses to absorb the changing dynamics of the situation. He could sense the dark shadows moving closer: the slightest hint of movement against the faint blur of a pillar; the soft shuffle of a rubber-soled shoe on the marble floor. He tried to focus his mind. There had to be a way out of this trap. Negotiation clearly wasn’t an option, but at least he could try to buy more time. He remembered his grandfather’s journal entry about the camps. My German tastes like vomit in my mouth. If he could provoke them, or at least surprise them, maybe he could give Sarah the chance to get clear.

‘Was it their duty to kill millions of innocent people and destroy the lives of tens of millions more?’ He allowed contempt to saturate his words. ‘The only place they have in history is in the chapter reserved for cowards and murderers. And they failed in the end. This room is an illusion, an architectural conjuring trick. It is no more sacred than a multi-storey car park. The power of the men who created Wewelsburg was smashed, the way evil will always be smashed. This so-called Valhalla was never anything but a building site. The SS no longer exists except in the minds of a few misguided idiots, and Heinrich Himmler and those he led are long dead.’

The expected reaction didn’t materialize. Frederick wasn’t finished with his lesson.

‘You misunderstand the situation, just as you misunderstand the true meaning of the Black Sun. You talk of Nazis and the SS as if they were somehow central to our aims, but they were only a vehicle for their times. Adolf Hitler allowed his vision to be distorted by fear and hatred and in doing so he betrayed his legacy. His fear led him to go to war five years before he was ready. His hatred made him focus on the extermination of the Jews and the Slavs to the exclusion of all else. He should have enslaved them or conscripted them into expendable penal battalions, the result would have been the same in the end. Instead, he wasted irreplaceable resources on their destruction, when those resources were needed here to achieve something truly important. That opportunity was missed, but we are patient men, Mr Saintclair, and it will come again. Now, where is the journal?’

Jamie had no time for surprise at Frederick’s mention of the journal. Suddenly there was movement all around him. ‘Go!’ He shouted the warning to Sarah and threw himself towards Frederick. It had always been a long shot and it lengthened further when a leg stuck out and knocked his feet from under him. He hit the marble floor with enough force to jar his teeth and kicked out frantically at the nearest solid form. Someone cried out in pain, but any satisfaction was buried by the realization that they were now making a determined effort to kill him. He tried to roll clear of a glancing blow from a heavy boot that made his ears ring. Another knocked the wind from him as it crunched into his ribs. He called desperately to Sarah to get out and he could hear the fear in his own voice. A muffled scream answered his plea and he knew they had failed. Now the boots were arriving in earnest, a relentless businesslike rhythm that sought out his most vulnerable parts. He squirmed and twisted, but his racing mind told him he was dead unless someone intervened. A heel that had been meant to crush his skull emerged from the darkness and missed his nose by an inch. He had a vision of other helpless men who had died in this very place, beaten to death by the predecessors of the men who were killing him.

‘Enough!’

Strong arms hauled him roughly to his feet. His head still spun from the blows and his body was a mass of pain, but at least he was alive. He winced as something hard and metallic was rammed into his bruised ribs with enough force to make him grunt.

‘Search them, and the bag.’

He heard Sarah hiss like a trapped wildcat as coarse hands made a rudimentary check of his body.

‘Nothing but more paper, a length of rope and a laptop.’

‘It does not matter. It will be in the car or one of the rooms.’

‘It isn’t.’ Jamie’s words seemed to freeze the darkness. ‘Let the girl go and I’ll tell you where the journal is.’

Frederick, he assumed it was Frederick, brought his face close enough so Jamie could smell the mix of beer and garlic on his breath. Half a head taller, with cropped, sandy hair, the German’s calculating grey eyes studied him from a face that was as flat and as expressionless as a marble statue and with the complexion of a day old corpse.

‘No,’ the other man said eventually. ‘I believe you are bluffing. In any case, we will soon find out. Gustav?’ Another figure detached itself from the outer shadows. ‘Gustav has recently returned from duty in Afghanistan where he was able to refine his interrogation techniques with a remarkable degree of success.’ A hand like a shovel pulled Jamie’s arm backwards and before he knew what was happening his wrists had been cuffed and he was spun to face his captor. Gustav was short, but with a chest that strained the buttons of his shirt, a face that seemed too small for his head and wide-set eyes like quarry chips. He gave Jamie’s cheek a playful slap with his left hand and drove his right fist deep into the Englishman’s stomach. A man who enjoyed his work. Jamie struggled for breath as his captor drew him upright again.

‘That’s on account, yeah? We don’t want no trouble.’ The German picked up Sarah’s rucksack and put it over his left shoulder.

‘Take them to the cellar below the bridge. I will join you there in a few minutes.’ As Gustav and another man led them away, Frederick turned to Jamie. ‘There is no escape for you, Mr Saintclair. You will soon tell us where the journal is, I assure you. Gustav not only enjoys what he does, he is also extremely adept at it. He understands the psychology of torture as well as the physical mechanics. He will use the woman to cause you pain.’ His voice rose a fraction. ‘He will hurt her and make you watch as he humiliates her, sexually.’

Gustav chuckled his appreciation and ran coarse, butcher’s hands over Sarah’s body; an appetizer for what was to come.

‘You bastard.’ She tried to snap at his face with her teeth, but the German only laughed all the louder. Jamie struggled against his cuffs until the big man turned and slapped his head hard.

‘Please, don’t hurt her. I’ll tell you everything you want to know.’

Frederick motioned to Gustav who produced a roll of parcel tape and slapped a short length across Jamie’s mouth before repeating the exercise with Sarah.

‘That would be very sensible, of course, but I’m afraid it is not possible. This is the holy of holies. We of the Vril Society have protected its secrets and maintained its purity since the beginning. You and your woman have desecrated it and you must be punished. Once you have everything you need from him, you may do what you wish with the girl,’ he said to Gustav. ‘When it is over bury them in the north woods. They will be among friends and I doubt a few more bones will be noticed.’