question of what they and the several Party staff cars parked on the pavement were doing there.
Otto Rahn answered the door, greeting us with sympathetic warmth, and directed us into a cloakroom where he relieved us of our coats.
'Before we go in,' he said, 'I should explain that there are a number of other people here for this seance. Herr Weisthor's prowess as a clairvoyant has made him Germany's most important sage. I think I mentioned that a number of leading Party members are sympathetic to Herr Weisthor's work incidentally, this is his home and so apart from Herr Vogelmann and myself, one of the other guests here tonight will probably be familiar to you.'
Hildegard's jaw dropped. 'Not the Fnhrer,' she said.
Rahn smiled. 'No, not he. But someone very close to him. He has requested that he be treated just like anyone else in order to facilitate a favourable atmosphere for the evening's contact. So I'm telling you now, in order that you won't be too surprised, that it is the ReichsFnhrer-S S, Heinrich Himmler, to whom I am referring. No doubt you saw the security men outside and were wondering what was going on. The ReichsFnhrer is a great patron of our work and has attended many seances.'
Emerging from the cloakroom, we went through a door soundproofed in button-backed padded green leather, and into a large and simply furnished L-shaped room. Across the thick green carpet was a round table at one end, and a group of about ten people standing over a sofa and a couple of armchairs at the other. The walls, where they were visible between the light oak panelling, were painted white, and the green curtains were all drawn. There was something classically German about this room, which was the same thing as saying that it was about as warm and friendly as a Swiss Army knife.
Rahn found us some drinks and introduced Hildegard and me to the room. I spotted Vogelmann's red head first of all, nodded to him and then searched for Himmler.
Since there were no uniforms to be seen, he was rather difficult to spot in his dark, double-breasted suit. Taller than I had expected, and younger too perhaps no more than thirty-seven or thirty-eight. When he spoke, he seemed a mild-mannered sort of man, and, apart from the enormous gold Rolex, my overall impression was of a man you would have taken for a headmaster rather than the head of the German secret police. And what was it about Swiss wristwatches that made them so attractive to men of power? But a wristwatch was not as attractive to this particular man of power as was Hildegard Steininger, it seemed, and the two of them were soon deep in conversation.
'Herr Weisthor will come out presently,' Rahn explained. 'He usually needs a period of quiet meditation before approaching the spirit world. Let me introduce you to Reinhard Lange. He's the proprietor of that magazine I left for your wife.'
'Ah yes, Urania.'
So there he was, short and plump, with a dimple in one of his chins and a pugnaciously pendant lower lip, as if daring you to smack him or kiss him. His fair hair was well-receded, although somewhat babyish about the ears. He had hardly any eyebrows to speak of, and the eyes themselves were half-closed, slitty even. Both of these features made him seem weak and inconstant, in a Nero-like sort of way. Possibly he was neither of these two things, although the strong smell of cologne that surrounded him, his self-satisfied air, and his slightly theatrical way of speaking, did nothing to correct my first impression of him. My line of work has made me a rapid and fairly accurate judge of character, and five minutes' conversation with Lange were enough to convince me that I had not been wrong about him. The man was a worthless little queer.
I excused myself and went to the lavatory I had seen beyond the cloakroom. I had already decided to return to Weisthor's house after the seance and see if the other rooms were any more interesting than the one we were in. There didn't appear to be a dog about the place, so it seemed that all I had to do was prepare my entry. I bolted the door behind me and set about releasing the window-catch. It was stiff and I had just managed to get it open when there was a knock at the door. It was Rahn.
'Herr Steininger? Are you in there?'
'I won't be a moment.'
'We'll be starting in a moment or two.'
'I'll be right there,' I said, and, leaving the window a couple of centimetres open, I flushed the toilet and went back to rejoin the rest of the guests.
Another man had come into the room, and I realized that this must be Weisthor.
Aged about sixty-five, he wore a three-piece suit of light-brown flannel and carried an ornate, ivory-handled stick with strange carvings on its shaft, some of which matched his ring. Physically he resembled an older version of Himmler, with his small smudge of a moustache, hamster-like cheeks, dyspeptic mouth and receding chin; but he was stouter, and whereas the ReichsFnhrer reminded you of a myopic rat, Weisthor had more of the beaver about his features, an effect that was accentuated by the gap between his two front teeth.
You must be Herr Steininger,' he said, pumping my hand. 'Permit me to introduce myself. I am Karl Maria Weisthor, and I am delighted to have already had the pleasure of meeting your lovely wife.' He spoke very formally, and with a Viennese accent. 'In that at least you are a very fortunate man. Let us hope that I may be of service to you both before the evening has ended. Otto has told me of your missing daughter Emmeline, and of how the police and our good friend Rolf Vogelmann have been unable to find her. As I said to your wife, I am sure that the spirits of our ancient German ancestors will not desert us, and that they will tell us what has become of her, as they have told us of other things before.'
He turned and waved at the table. 'Shall we be seated?' he said. 'Herr Steininger, you and your wife will sit on either side of me. Everyone will join hands, Herr Steininger. This will increase our conscious power. Try not to let go, no matter what you might see or hear, as it can cause the link to be broken.
Do you both understand?'
We nodded and took our seats. When the rest of the company had sat down, I noticed that Himmler had contrived to be sitting next to Hildegard, to whom he was paying close attention. It struck me that I would tell it differently, and that it would amuse Heydrich and Nebe if I told them I spent the evening holding hands with Heinrich Himmler. Thinking about it then I almost laughed, and to cover my half-smile I turned away from Weisthor and found myself looking at a tall, urbane, Siegfried-type wearing evening dress, with the kind of warm, sensitive manner that comes only of bathing in dragon's blood.
'My name is Kindermann,' he said sternly. 'Dr Lanz Kindermann, at your service, Herr Steininger.' He glanced down at my hand as if it had been a dirty dishcloth.
'Not the famous psychotherapist?' I said.
He smiled. 'I doubt that you could call me famous,' he said, but with some satisfaction all the same. 'Nevertheless, I thank you for the compliment.'
'And are you Austrian?'
'Yes. Why do you ask?'
'I like to know something about the men whose hands I hold,' I offered, and grasped his own firmly.
'In a moment,' said Weisthor, 'I shall ask our friend Otto to turn off the electric light. But first of all, I should like us all to close our eyes and to breathe deeply. The purpose of this is to relax. Only if we are relaxed will spirits feel comfortable enough to contact us and offer us the benefit of what they are able to see.
'It may help you to think of something peaceful, such as a flower or a formation of clouds.' He paused, so that the only sounds which could be heard were the deep breathing of the people around the table and the ticking of a clock on the mantelpiece. I heard Vogelmann clear his throat, which prompted Weisthor to speak again.
'Try and flow into the person next to you so that we may feel the power of the circle. When Otto turns off the light I shall go into trance and permit my body to be taken under the control of spirit. Spirit will control my speech, my every bodily function, so that I shall be in a vulnerable position.
Make no sudden noise or interruption. Speak gently if you wish to communicate with spirit, or allow Otto to speak for you.' He paused again. 'Otto? The lights, please.'
I heard Rahn stand up as if rousing himself from a deep sleep and creep across the carpet.
'From now on Weisthor will not speak unless he is under spirit,' he said. 'It will be my voice you hear speak to him in trance.' He turned off the light, and after a few seconds I heard him return to the circle.
I stared hard into the darkness at where Weisthor was sitting, but try as I might, I could see nothing but the strange shapes which play on the back of the retina when it is deprived of light. Whatever Weisthor said about flowers or clouds, I found it helped me to think of the Mauser automatic at my shoulder, and the nice formation of 9mm ammunition in the grip.
