“Why Wewelsburg?” asked Sybilla, intrigued.
“Wewelsburg became the spiritual home of the SS before the war. Initially it was used as a training centre for SS officers, however it soon became their cult centre, their cathedral if you like. Himmler was thoroughly immersed in the occult and in ancient legends, particularly Arthurian. I believe he identified himself with Arthur and organised the SS into 12 divisions, each led by a general. These generals were his knights of the round table. The room I have described, where the ritual took place, is known as the Generals’ Hall. Encircling the mosaic in the floor are twelve pillars, each representing a general, or a knight if you prefer.
“Before, and during, the war various ceremonies took place in the Generals’ Hall: marriages, baptisms and allegiance swearing ceremonies. I have taken an apartment in Wewelsburg village and have made a friend of a local pastor, vehemently anti-Thule and anti-SS, who has been invaluable in gaining intelligence on my behalf. He frequently attends the castle as a pastoral guide for the regular school residential courses which are hosted there. Imagine my surprise and excitement when he informed me that a baptism was to take place at the castle, to be attended by a very senior ex-SS general. The only SS general I knew who was not either dead or in prison was Müller, the very man I had been looking for in France!
“By dint of bribery and other forms of corruption, I was able to ascertain the date and also gain an impression, on plasticine, of the keys to the Generals’ Hall and the side portal. I hid behind one of the SS drapes, hung for the occasion. To say I was utterly shocked when I saw who was in the baptismal party would be something of an understatement.”
“The general was definitely Müller?” asked McFarlane.
“Absolutely no question about it. Billa and I studied his photos together until he was more familiar to us than our own families.”
“And one of the women was Eva Braun?” prompted Manteufel.
Rahn screwed his face up. “If it wasn’t her, it would have to be her sister Gretl. They are very alike, but I think it was Eva. It’s a pity you weren’t with me, Horst; you actually met them both.”
“Did you recognise the other woman, Wolf?” asked Sybilla.
“The other woman was without doubt Maria Orsic, the senior Vril Maiden. I have studied the Vril Society extensively and have seen many photographs of her—it was definitely Maria.”
“The burning question,” said McFarlane, chewing his lip, “is where are they now?”
“Bookings are taken by the custodian, whose office is actually in the castle. Can we persuade the local police to commandeer the book for a day so we can examine it? If we can find who made the booking, we may be able to trace them that way,” suggested Rahn.
McFarlane nodded. “I think I can bring pressure to bear in that respect. We all need to take a look around the castle as well. It will provide us with good background information.”
The interview with the local police superintendent was terse, not to say openly hostile. He was at first very reluctant to comply with McFarlane’s request, considering it an intrusion into German affairs. Throughout, Bob McFarlane remained cool and detached. He patiently pointed out that the ultimate authority on security matters in Germany, still being an occupied country, rested with the military commander.
Reluctantly, and with ill grace, the chief conceded the point and nominated two uniformed police to accompany McFarlane. Bob wasn’t sure if it was a gesture of conciliation or, more likely, he was posting spies with them to report back on their activities. He suspected the latter.
If that was the case, it didn’t show in the demeanour of the two policemen, who proved polite and outgoing and assimilated easily into the group. The senior man, Polizeihauptmeister Kranz, was in awe of Manteufel. Kranz had himself served the Reich as a soldier during the war and thought the heroics of the Fallschirmjäger legendary. The younger man, Polizeiobermeister Schmidt, a devout Catholic, was completely charmed by the easy-going friendliness and calmness of Wolfgang Rahn, a holy man who carried a gun and by all accounts wasn’t averse to using it. Both, of course, were captivated by Sybilla and always eager to engage her in conversation.
As they stepped onto the bridge across the moat and approached the entrance, Kelly observed, “At least there won’t be a language problem. Everyone speaks German, with the exception of Horst, of course. Being a Berliner, he speaks a language indecipherable to any other living being.” Manteufel made a suggestion to Kelly which would have been physiologically impossible to achieve.
The entrance consisted of two large, heavy wooden doors. Still visible on the door panels were the marks left by the metal swastikas and the twin Sowilo runes representing the SS insignia, the original metalwork having been removed by the Allies shortly after the capture of Paderborn. As they approached, one of the doors swung open to reveal the custodian, his keys dangling nervously in his hand.
He was a short man of slight build, balding and wearing glasses. Put him in a black uniform and he would pass for Himmler, thought McFarlane and smiled to himself as he considered how appropriate that would be. This was, after all, Himmler’s castle!
McFarlane extended his hand. “Herr …?”
“Schneider,” replied the little man. “Und Sie, mein Herr?” He was obviously nervous and ill at ease.
“Brigade Führer McFarlane,” answered McFarlane, using the German form and pronunciation. Bob McFarlane wasn’t one for pulling rank, but, on this occasion, he felt he needed to make a point.
Schneider and indeed the two policemen seemed to stand a little straighter.
McFarlane explained that they wished to see around the inside of
