to Levi.
‘A child’s drawing,’ Levi responded quietly.
‘Liar!’ Von Hei?en slashed Levi’s face again and Ramona began to sob.
‘You dare defy the Third Reich? Sturmscharfuhrer! ’
‘ Obersturmbannfuhrer! ’ The short, dumpy senior NCO clicked his heels together. His uniform was stretched against his barrel-like form, his collar straining to contain thick purple jowls. Sturmscharfuhrer Schmidt had been specially selected for the appointment as Mauthausen Camp Sergeant Major, not least for his vicious hatred of the Jews. In over twenty-five years in the Wehrmacht, and now in the SS prison guard ‘Death’s Head’ division, Schmidt had never seen a shot fired in anger. Incapable of original thought, the sadistic and subservient Schmidt was determined to keep it that way. He was hated by prisoners and guards alike, but he had qualities von Hei?en found useful.
‘Take this scum to the guard barracks and have them clean the latrines.’
‘Jawohl, Obersturmbannfuhrer!’
Von Hei?en pushed his cane under Levi’s chin again. ‘And you will clean the latrines until they sparkle. It will give you time to think about being a little more cooperative.’ Von Hei?en turned on the heel of his immaculately polished boot and strode away.
Schmidt marched the ragged column up the steps at the end of the cloisters and on towards the main entrance of the prisoner compound, where two massive stone towers stood sentinel on either side of the gate. Levi looked to the left. Men and women were chipping rocks from the face of a granite cliff and carrying them to large wooden hoppers. Several women were straining to push a full hopper, their screams carrying across the quarry when a guard bashed them with a heavy wooden club. Beyond the women, men were carrying large rocks on their shoulders, forced at gunpoint to run up a steep granite staircase that led to a cliff.
The guards shoved Levi and the rest of the group into the barrack-room toilet. A vile stink permeated the air.
‘Most appropriate, don’t you think?’ Schmidt sneered. Ariel coughed and held his nose. ‘Jewish Scheisse cleaning SS Scheissen-hauser!’ Schmidt’s laugh was harsh and he manhandled Levi towards one of the open cubicles. The stench was overpowering. Schmidt grabbed Levi by the neck and shoved his head into the bowl. He yanked the chain and reeking faeces cascaded through Levi’s hair and up his nose.
Levi fell back and vomited.
‘My tallit, Levi. They made me clean the toilet with my prayer shawl,’ Ramona sobbed quietly as they were marched back towards an empty barrack block.
‘ Lichte lochen. Lights out,’ Scharfuhrer Schaub growled, and he flicked the switch. Levi had assessed the young German corporal as being one of the few decent guards he’d encountered during their arrest, so he was surprised when Schaub approached his bunk.
‘You! Outside!’
Emotionally and physically exhausted, Levi offered no resistance when Schaub shoved him towards the door, closing it behind them once they were outside the barrack block.
‘We don’t have much time, so listen carefully,’ Schaub said quietly, dragging Levi out of the circle of light thrown by a naked bulb hanging above the barrack-room door. ‘I’m sorry for what you’re going through. We’ll try to get you out as soon as we can; but it’s too dangerous at the moment, although we’re working on a plan for the children. If Ariel and Rebekkah are transferred to laundry duties, don’t try to keep them with you, and tell them to do exactly as they’re told.’
‘How do you know their names… Who are you?’ Levi asked, struggling to comprehend the message from the SS guard.
‘That doesn’t matter. The Jewish Agency in Istanbul is all you need to know.’
The door to the barracks on the opposite side of the compound suddenly opened.
Levi winced as Schaub struck him across the face. ‘You Jewish scum! What are you doing outside after lights out? Get back inside!’
16
T he day had dawned overcast and cold, and von Hei?en’s boots crunched on the fresh spring snow as he returned from his inspection of the camp. Von Hei?en was determined that Reichsfuhrer Himmler’s visit and the celebrations for Hitler’s birthday would go off without a hitch. Reaching his headquarters, he descended the stone steps that led to a large cellar beneath the building. Only two people were allowed into what was effectively a strong room: himself and his batman, the latter charged with melting down Jewish jewellery and the piles of gold fillings that were extracted each time the bodies were cleared from ‘the showers’ beneath the hospital. Von Hei?en felt the side of the small furnace he’d had installed alongside one of the stone walls. It was still warm from the night before. Satisfied, he dialled the combination to the huge safe at the rear of the cellar.
Excellent, he mused, picking up the ten-kilogram ingot his batman had added to the six already stored in the vault. The bars were stamped with the eagle and swastika, giving the impression they were being produced to bolster the coffers of the Reich, but von Hei?en had a very different plan. He’d already invited il Signor Felici to visit. The powerful envoy’s contacts within the Vatican, a nation state outside the jurisdiction of either Hitler’s Reich or Mussolini’s Italy, would, he thought, be very useful. The SS colonel opened one of the vault drawers and extracted the pectoral cross he’d discovered in the Weizman safe, one of a number of items his batman had been instructed to store separately. Other than its possible monetary value, the cross held no particular attraction for von Hei?en, but he’d already determined that it might mean quite a lot to someone like Felici. He returned the cross to its drawer, closed the vault door and headed back to his office.
Sitting behind his large mahogany desk, von Hei?en turned his attention again to the strange piece of paper he’d recovered from the Jewish boy. A child’s drawing? The yellow painted shape might be, but why would a boy of ten draw a series of lines and then assign what looked like bearings to them? Was it worth keeping his miserable father alive to find out? Under normal circumstances it might be, at least to give the usual methods of persuasion time to work, but von Hei?en was very aware of the threat the Jewish archaeologist posed. The longer Weizman was alive, the greater the danger of word leaking out about the discovery of the figurine. There was only one man von Hei?en genuinely feared: if Himmler ever found out, he’d be finished.
Deep in thought, von Hei?en got up from behind his desk and stood at the window, absent-mindedly looking towards the quarry where the Jewish scum were already at work. He was convinced that if Weizman still had the figurine, he would have almost certainly hidden it in his strongbox. It was safe to assume the jade statue was still in the jungles of Guatemala, and therefore – His thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door.
At five-foot nine, his adjutant, Hauptsturmfuhrer Hans Brandt, only just cleared the SS height restrictions, but Brandt was well-connected and what the fair-haired, oval-faced, olive-skinned Aryan captain lacked in height, he made up for in ambition and naked ruthlessness.
‘Kommen Sie!’
‘The Jew is outside, Herr Kommandant, and I’ve been advised that Reichsfuhrer Himmler’s car is approaching Mauthausen. He will arrive in just under half an hour.’
‘The guard is ready?’
‘Jawohl, Herr Kommandant. I’ve inspected them personally. I’ve also been advised that Doktor Richtoff is accompanying the Reichsfuhrer.’
‘Everything is ready for the doctor?’
Brandt nodded. ‘The technicians have finished installing the equipment, including the high-altitude pressure chamber, and Barrack Block 6 has been refurnished in accordance with Doktor Richtoff’s instructions.’
Von Hei?en grunted. ‘Good. Bring the Jew in.’
‘Jawohl. Heil Hitler!’
‘Herr Professor, I’m told that your apartment has been thoroughly searched and there is no sign of the figurine. So where is it?’ Von Hei?en put his question very slowly, his voice ominously calm.
