‘I ’ve done as you requested, Eminence, and interviewed anyone who might have information on the lost Maya Codex, including Father Ehrlichmann and the papal nuncio in Guatemala City,’ Alberto Felici said. ‘I’m now convinced it probably lies hidden in or around Tikal.’
‘So Himmler is on to something concrete?’ Pacelli observed.
Felici smiled enigmatically. ‘I’d be very careful of Reichsfuhrer Himmler, Eminence, he keeps some very strange company. On the advice of a Karl-Maria Wiligut, a former colonel in the Austrian Imperial Army, Himmler has taken over a medieval castle in Wewelsburg and turned it into a Nordic academy for the SS. But I’ve discovered that Wiligut is a deranged, violent alcoholic who was only released from a mental asylum in 1927.’
‘Why would Himmler take notice of a deranged alcoholic?’
‘For one thing, Wiligut is a fierce opponent of the Jews, and he publishes an anti-Semitic paper called The Iron Broom. But there’s a lot more to Heinrich Himmler than anti-Semitism, Eminence. He’s feared throughout the Reich as a cold, hard, ruthlessly efficient administrator who doesn’t miss the slightest detail, but behind the scenes, the Reichsfuhrer is heavily into the occult. Wiligut has been presented as a mystic who has access to lost cities and civilisations via ancient channels… He’s managed to convince Himmler that the final great battle for civilisation will occur around Wewelsburg in the valleys of Westphalia.’
‘Then we’re dealing with a crank?’
Felici shook his head. ‘Never underestimate Himmler, Eminence. He’s turning the SS into a new Aryan aristocracy, a noble order of warriors sworn to the Fuhrer, modelled on the Knights Templar and the Jesuits. Himmler intends to develop Wewelsburg as an SS city, a pagan Vatican at the centre of the new world.’
Pacelli’s eyes widened.
‘Himmler is now relocating the villagers of Wewelsburg and remodelling the castle. He’s established a concentration camp in the Niederhagen Forests, where Jews are being imprisoned and drafted into forced labour. We’re dealing with the Devil here, Eminence. Outwardly Himmler’s prim and proper, but his mind is medieval. He’s cold, calculating and lethal; and as far as his treatment of the Jews is concerned, you may have to make some public remarks. International condemnation is growing.’
‘I’m aware of that, Alberto,’ Pacelli said, irritation in his voice, ‘but there are bigger issues to consider than the plight of the Jews.’
‘Are you also aware then, Eminence, that your papal nuncio in Istanbul is organising an escape route for Jewish children? Weizman confided in me that if things get any worse in Vienna, he may have to get his family out through Turkey.’ Felici watched carefully for any reaction that might reveal enmity between the powerful Cardinal Secretary of State and his subordinate in Turkey, Angelo Roncalli.
Pacelli made a mental note to speak with the archbishop in the Vatican’s foreign ministry. ‘Did Professor Weizman give you any idea of what might be in this codex?’
‘He thinks the Maya have encoded a warning of a coming annihilation; but he also thinks there could be a connection between the Mayan warning and the warnings of the Virgin at Fatima.’
Pacelli went pale. His own connection to Our Lady was strong. Pope Benedict XV had elevated him to archbishop on 13 May 1917, the very day the blessed Virgin Mary had first appeared to the three peasant children at Fatima in Portugal. The connection had never been lost on Pacelli, nor had the blessed Virgin’s three warnings.
‘Is the Vatican going to make these warnings public, Eminence?’
Pacelli didn’t answer. A heavy silence descended on the Secretary of State’s apartment. ‘It’s possible,’ Pacelli said finally, ‘that we may release the first two warnings. At present, all three are in the hands of the Bishop of Leiria in Portugal. The third – and this must remain strictly between you and me – the third contains a threat to the Holy Church itself, and it must remain hidden.’
‘Perhaps all three should be moved to the secret archives, Eminence, where they will be better protected? The existence of the documents and the miracle of the sun are quite widely known.’
Pacelli’s thoughts went back to the last apparition, on 13 October 1917, when on a wet and windy morning 70 000 people had gathered in the fields at Cova da Iria to witness the miracle the blessed Virgin had promised the three children at Fatima. As the clouds cleared, little Lucia had called to the crowds and pointed towards the sun. Suddenly, the sun began to rotate like a catherine-wheel, shooting light in different colours, as the great crowds would attest. Several journalists from Portugal’s most influential newspapers, including O Seculo, a pro-government and anti-religious paper, reported the sun ‘zigzagging’ and reversing direction across the sky. The Lisbon daily, O Dia, recorded the sun as having a deep-blue light emanating from its centre, illuminating thousands of people prostrate and weeping on the ground.
‘The warnings are secure for now, Alberto,’ Pacelli said, ‘but, as you say, they should be moved to the secret archives. In the meantime I want you to keep a close eye on developments in Tikal. If the Maya Codex is linked to the warnings of the blessed Virgin, then it too must be secured in the secret archives.’
‘I agree, Eminence. We will need to watch Weizman very carefully.’
Felici acknowledged the salute of the Swiss Guard as he left the Vatican through huge bronze doors. He descended the marble steps and headed into the night across the cobblestones of a deserted Piazza San Pietro. His conversation with Pacelli had been illuminating. A seat on the board of the Vatican Bank would give him power. But as he walked towards the Tiber, he reflected on the meeting he’d held with von Hei?en before he’d left Tikal. Von Hei?en’s links to Himmler might put him in an even more powerful position. Felici was a master at the arcane art of the double agent.
12
T he train slowed as it approached the Brenner Pass checkpoint on the Italian-Austrian border. The snow- capped granite of the Zillertal and Stubai Alps towered over the pass. When the train hissed to a stop, Levi watched in trepidation as the Nazi guards boarded. The closer Levi got to Vienna, the more insecure he felt.
‘Papieren!’
Levi handed over his Austrian passport to the officious young border guards.
‘Zweck der Ihr Besuch? Purpose of your visit?’
‘I’m returning to Vienna,’ Levi replied, as calmly as he could, feeling like a stranger in his own country.
‘ Beruf? Occupation?’
‘Professor at Universitat Wien.’
One of the border guards looked at the photograph in Levi’s passport, scrutinised Levi’s face, looked back at the photograph and handed it back without a word.
Levi heaved an inward sigh of relief. Roberto had been right. Neither the Italians nor the Germans were yet completely organised. Benito Mussolini was busy supporting his ally, General Franco, in the Spanish Civil War, and the bustling port of Naples had been relatively free of scrutiny. Here, on the border, the arrogant but inexperienced young guard had asked his questions by rote. Four rows behind, and unseen by Levi, a large man in a grey trench coat flashed his SS identification to the border guards and they quickly moved on. The SS agent went back to his copy of Corriere della Sera.
Levi pulled his fedora down over his forehead as he alighted from the old tram on Franz-Josefs-Kai near the Donaukanal, not far from the steps that led up to Judengasse. Vienna was crowded with Nazi soldiers and Brownshirts: on the trains, the trams, the buses, the street corners and in the bars and cafes. He scanned the steps, instinctively clutching at the satchel hidden beneath the overcoat he’d purchased in Naples. He reached the top of the stairs and crossed into the shadows of the Saint Ruprecht steeple. At the far end of Judengasse, a group of Nazi soldiers were leaving a bar and their drunken singing echoed down the cobbled streets. The light was on in his apartment. Levi’s heartbeat raced at the prospect of seeing Ramona and the children again. The Nazis disappeared towards the Hofburg Quarter, and Levi walked quietly to the back stairs which led up to his apartment.
‘ Wer ist es?’ Ramona called from the other side when Levi knocked. Her voice was strong, but Levi sensed her fear.
