The Parsifal Pursuit

by Michael McMenamin

After a moment, an impatient Cockran had had enough. “Robert, who the hell is it?”

  Rankin turned back quietly, an expression of concern on his face as though he had some uncomfortable news to pass on. Behind him, Bobby Sullivan appeared in the doorway and now became the one to block the view past the door way. “Bourke,” Sullivan said simply. “Someone is here who insists on speaking with you. He says he knows where Mattie has been taken.”

  “Well let him in, for God‘s sake!” Cockran snapped. “Let him in!”

  Sullivan stood aside. The harsh, lined features of Josef Lanz were momentarily framed in the doorway before he entered the room. The debates of the past two hours, the careful considerations of whether Lanz‘s “note” were genuine or not, were gone in a flash. Something snapped at the back of Cockran‘s mind, like the coiled spring of a mattress breaking free from its mooring. He burst forward with an incomprehensible grunt and flung himself at Josef Lanz. Cockran‘s shoulder plowed into Lanz‘s belly, the impact sending Lanz flat on his back. Cockran seized his neck in his bare hands and began squeezing with all the strength he could muster. Lanz had no chance of stopping him, the older man‘s strength no match for Cockran‘s rage.

  “Where is she?!” Cockran screamed into the man‘s face. He used his hands to shake Lanz‘s head, knocking it back against the hotel‘s carpeted floor. In his mind, he saw his wife Nora, dead at the hands of an IRA thug. He saw old friends like Michael Collins, gone and dead at the hands of the same sort of ruthless men. He saw them all, his worst fear being that Mattie might join them. He could not bear to lose Mattie too. “Where is she, Goddamn it! Tell me!”

  Cockran felt his hands pulled away from Lanz‘s neck against the will of his own arms. He leaned forward, trying to keep his weight on Lanz, but the strong hands of every man in the room soon made themselves felt on his arms as they fought to pull him off the man beneath him. Cockran strained against the men holding him back, until Churchill‘s voice began to filter in.

  “Bourke!” Churchill said. “Stop this madness! We must speak to this fellow! We need him to lead us to Mattie. Bourke! Listen to me!”

  Cockran eased his arms and began to relax into the hands that held him, his breathing hard and heavy, but slowing. A few hands remained on him, softly, making sure his acquiescence was not simply feigned. Cockran put a hand over the one on his shoulder to reassure them. “I‘m sorry. Let him speak.”

  Lanz roused himself from the floor slowly, rubbing his neck. He held a hand up to gesture that he was having difficulty speaking.

  Sturm placed a hand on Cockran‘s shoulder. “I understand your emotions, Herr Cockran,” he said softly. “But losing control does nothing to bring Mattie back.”

  Cockran looked coldly at the hand on his shoulder as if it were an unwanted insect. Sturm took the glance, removed his hand and backed away.

  Lanz was now up in a sitting position on the floor, Sullivan kneeling beside him. Sullivan looked up at Cockran. “I met him down in the hotel lobby after I returned from the police station,” he said. “Lanz told me that he knew where Mattie was being held and insisted that he be the one to tell you. In person. I tried to explain to him that it was a bad idea, but…” Sullivan held his hands up in a helpless gesture. “Well, he insisted.”

  Sullivan then explained to the group what he learned at Munich police headquarters as a result of his “little chat” with Deputy Prosecutor Eric Schmidt.

  “What happened to Schmidt?” Cockran asked.

  “I left him on the toilet.”

  “So Hoch is responsible?” Cockran said. “Hoch kidnapped Mattie?”

  “With a little help from Harmony Hampton,” Sullivan replied.

  “And Hoch took the Spear?” Professor Campbell asked.

  “Yes,” Lanz croaked from his seat on the floor. “What Herr Sullivan says fits with everything we understand. I left a rear guard behind to keep an eye on the SS because we feared they would make a move to retake the Spear. My men followed the SS motorcar caravan. They said there were two women in one of the motorcars. One with blonde hair, one with red.

  “Where did they take her?” Cockran said urgently.

  “Both the Spear and the women are now in the SS fortress at Wewelsburg where, I am afraid, it will be impossible to rescue either of them. The walls are ten feet thick, thirty feet high. Unlike my own ancestral home, I don‘t know any secret ways inside or secret passages within.”

  “I do.” The voice was Kurt von Sturm‘s. The entire room turned to face him.

  “Membership has its privileges.” Sturm said. “Last summer after the Nazis‘ unexpected election victory which left us the second largest party in Germany, Himmler tried to recruit me into the SS because I was in Hitler‘s favor and represented to him the Nordic ideal.” Sturm paused. “Knowing that, Himmler tried to impress me with what was to him the highest honor he could bestow. An invitation to visit his holy SS sanctuary at Wewelsburg.”

  Sturm explained that Himmler was inordinately proud of Wewelsburg Castle and had taken him on a Cook‘s tour, pointing out secret passages like a 12 year old boy with his prized toys. One passage led to the sacred ritual room where, Himmler explained, his enemies claimed he beheaded those who opposed him. Some people will say anything, he told Sturm with a laugh, but he had assured him that the SS were a knightly order.

  “The castle is a shrine to the Spear of Destiny,” Sturm said. “Himmler has designed a separate room there for every German leader who possessed the holy lance from Charlemagne through Frederick the Great whose room is kept locked and reserved for Hitler himself, should he ever visit the SS fortress. Each room has genuine period pieces such as swords, shields, and jewels which belonged to the heroic figures who laid claim to the Lance of Longinus.”

  Sturm paused. “You understand, of course, that Himmler is quite mad. Ruthless, brilliant… and utterly mad. But this much I do know. Castle Wewelsburg is not impregnable if you have the key. And I have the key. Do you still have your autogiros, Herr Cockran?”

  Cockran nodded. “They‘re at a private Munich aerodrome. Gassed up and ready to go.”

  70.

  The Heart of the New Europe

  Outside Munich

  Tuesday, 16 June 19319

  THEY had been driving for hours, heading northwest with Harmony and the driver in the front seat of the big Mercedes touring car while Hoch sat beside a bound Mattie in the back, the canvas covered Spear resting on his lap. She still couldn‘t believe Harmony and Hoch were lovers. What she did believe was Hoch‘s threat that “No one you know will ever see you again.”

  Mattie had feigned sleep for most of the journey but, with the afternoon sun shining in her eyes, it was no longer possible. She looked over at Hoch. “Where are you taking me?”

  Hoch smiled, his eyes fixated on the Spear. “The sacred ritual at Wewelsburg for consecrating the Spear of Destiny requires the sacrifice of two victims, a sworn enemy and a true friend of the German Volk. One of each. You, Miss McGary, qualify as an enemy.”

  “That‘s not what I asked, you sick bastard. I asked you where are you taking me?”

  Hoch looked at her and smiled. “To the new Europe, Miss McGary, the very heart of the new Europe.”

  Wewelsburg Castle

  Westphalia, Germany

  Wednesday, 17 June 1931

  OTHER than being locked in a castle dungeon, Mattie had been treated with courtesy by her captors, as if they were following some code of chivalry, the food warm and decent, her privacy respected. Tonight was different. They gave her a flowing white gown and said it was to be her only garment. They waited outside as she dressed. Then, they returned and placed on her head a long blonde wig which made her feel like a refugee from a Wagnerian opera.

  Mattie was frightened. It had been two hours since her captors had dressed her in this fashion and it was growing dark. She knew she was in a medieval castle. She knew they were outside the town of Paderhorn in a large fortress-like castle on the banks of a rive
r. By now, Sullivan and Cockran were probably back in the Alps, fruitlessly trying to find Lanz and the Templars. Hoch was right. No one she knew would ever see her again. Mattie lay on the cot, her eyes closed. She had to find a way out but after she had attacked the first guard to bring her food, they subsequently came in pairs, both of them armed. She had even managed that first time to wrench the guard‘s Luger from his holster but her unfamiliarity with where the safety catch was located had been her undoing. She wanted a rematch.

  Mattie heard the key turn in the lock and sat up. She had been waiting for this. She wasn‘t going meekly into the night. They had left her clothes including her shoes which were workmen‘s high top leather boots with steel reinforced toes. Her only weapon. Mattie stood behind the door as the first SS man entered, his Luger still in its gleaming black leather holster.

  “Fraulein?” he called out.

  Holding the boot with both hands, Mattie swung it toe first into the bridge of the man‘s nose, hearing the crunch of cartilage, blood spurting from his nose as he cried out and staggered back into his comrade, carrying them both to the floor. Mattie took the Luger from the first man‘s holster as the other man fumbled for his. Mattie was faster and this time she knew where the safety was. The sound of two weapons discharging inside the small cell was deafening. The SS man missed. Mattie didn‘t. Coldly, she fired at the man with the broken nose. She would not repeat her mistake at Alexandria with Lanz‘s Templars. The SS gave no quarter and neither would she. Mattie briefly contemplated dressing but she couldn‘t waste the time. She quickly laced up her boots and cautiously entered the hall, a Luger in one hand and the clip from the second Luger in the other, wishing she had Bobby Sullivan‘s ability to shoot with either hand. The corridor was lit only by fire and she moved cautiously, sensing she was below ground level She made it safely up to the next level but no farther. She never saw what or who hit her, a blinding pain followed by blackness.

  MATTIE awoke with her head throbbing and her eyes blindfolded. She was on her back and felt cold stone beneath her, her wrists and ankles restrained by ropes, her boots removed. Mattie heard more sounds as others entered the room. One voice sounded muffled, as if the person were gagged. She heard movement and then she sensed someone else beside her.

  Mattie heard footsteps receding and assumed they had been left alone when, suddenly, her blindfold was removed. She was astonished to see Harmony Hampton beside her, wrists and ankles bound as well. Both women were on an elevated round stone surface, several feet off the ground. Harmony‘s feet were opposite Mattie‘s head. She was blindfolded as Mattie had been, but she was still gagged and dressed like Mattie in a flowing white gown. Just then, Reinhard Hoch came into view from around behind her and removed Harmony‘s gag.

  “What is going on? There must be some mistake!” Harmony shrieked. I demand to see Reinhard Hoch! Immediately! Who do you people think you are?”

  Mattie raised her head as far as she could. Hoch stood there, a smile on his face as he ignored Harmony‘s pleas. Finally, he reached forward and removed Harmony‘s blindfold.

  “Tristan! My Tristan! I knew you‘d come! Please get me out of this. There‘s been some horrible mistake.”

  “No, my darling, there is no mistake. You played a vital role in delivering the Spear of Destiny to the only men worthy of possessing it, the Teutonic Knights of the new Germany. You kept us informed of Herr Cockran‘s every move and your warning in Munich very likely saved my life. You have my thanks and eternal gratitude.”

  “Yes, I did everything you asked.” Harmony said. “I did it because I believe in the new Germany. And because I love you.”

  Mattie looked around the room. It was round, like the stone surface on which she and Harmony were bound. She looked up. At the center of the high ceiling was a shiny black swastika within a circle of gold leaf that glittered in the light of twelve flaming torches. The torches were lodged in sconces along the perimeter of the room and provided the only illumination. Ahead of her, she could see a raised stone platform ten feet beyond Harmony‘s head on which sat an elaborately carved wooden chair. A large, blood-red velvet curtain was hung on the wall behind the platform with a black swastika inside a white circle in the center of the curtain.

  “Yes, my darling,” Hoch replied. “You did everything I asked, even urging your trustees to sell your controlling interest in your step-father‘s company which they did this morning.”

  “Oh Tristan, that‘s wonderful news. Now we can be together once I have my £50,000 and you divorce your wife.”

  “None of that will happen, my darling. Your benefactor withdrew his offer of a finder‘s fee for you and used it instead to bribe your two trustees into accepting what he assured me was a very fair price. So I am afraid our being together is now quite out of the question.”

  “But you promised. You gave me your word.”

  “I did not know you had a Jewish great-grandmother when I made my promise. Your blood is tainted, my dear, and you are but a parasite. No promise to a Jew need ever be kept.”

  Hoch walked over to the raised platform and picked up a long black garment which looked to Mattie like something an Oxford don would wear, except for the silver trim and dual silver lightening flashes of the SS at its collar. He put on the gown and approached Harmony.

  “As deep as my love once was for you, my darling, my loyalty to the SS and the new Germany is paramount. I have agreed to make the ultimate sacrifice by allowing you to play the key role in setting Germany firmly on the path to the greatness which is its birthright. The Spear of Destiny must be dipped in the blood of both a friend of the German volk as well as an enemy before it can be bent to the will of the one who possesses it. That is the legend handed down from all great leaders of the past who have held high the Spear. Constantine, Charlemagne, Henry the Fowler, Barbarossa and, above all, Frederick the Great.”

  Hoch looked down at Harmony and stroked her cheek. “I will miss you, my dearest, but a knight must put his honor above personal considerations.”

  The words chilled Mattie as Harmony screamed. She heard the creaking of a door behind her and Harmony‘s screams faded to a whimper. She heard the clicking sound of heels on stone as twelve men walked into the room and mounted pedestals which stood against the wall beside the twelve torches in a circle around the stone altar on which she and Harmony lay. They were all tall and blond, clad in black, silvertrimmed SS uniforms with gleaming leather boots and armed with holstered Lugers and ceremonial daggers.

  At Hoch‘s command, they all snapped to attention, eyes focused on the platform and the curtain behind it. A short pudgy man appeared from behind the wall hanging, the Spear of Destiny in his right hand. He was wearing a black gown similar to Hoch‘s except his was trimmed in both silver and red. He wore a thick-lensed pince-nez and his mustache was trimmed in a manner reminiscent of Hitler‘s. His head was shaved at the sides but that did little to camouflage a round moon face on top of which was perched short dark hair. Mattie had never met him, but she recognized him from photographs. Reichsfuhrer SS Heinrich Himmler.

  Himmler took a seat on the platform and banged the base of the Spear once on the platform floor, calling the assembled Knights to order. “My fellow Knights, Reinhard Tristan Hoch is a perfect specimen of German knighthood. His loyalty is his honor. He was sent by me on behalf of our Fuhrer on a special quest. Many brave knights went with him and paid with their lives.”

  Himmler paused and bowed his head as if in silent prayer before raising up his head and continuing. “But Reinhard Tristan persevered as any great Knight would. Just as Parsifal did in the past. He has brought the Spear of Destiny back to our ancient home here at Wewelsburg. As a reward for his bravery, Reinhard Tristan has earned the honor of consecrating the Spear, first with the blood of a friend of the German volk. After the Spear has been consecrated in the blood of a friend, it will taste the blood of a sworn enemy. Come forward, Reinhard.”

  Hoch approached Himmler, who had removed the pi
nce-nez and held his weak chin high. “The honor is yours, SS man,” Himmler said, handing the Spear to Hoch who grasped it with both hands. Hoch turned and approached Harmony and held the Spear tip high over her heart.

  Mercifully, Harmony fainted but Mattie couldn‘t look any longer. She closed her eyes as she heard Hoch say, “You now belong to the ages and your name will be praised in songs and fables for a thousand years”. Mattie heard the spear rending flesh and bone followed by the sounds of Harmony‘s impaled body thrashing wildly beside her. After a few moments, the convulsions ceased and Mattie opened her eyes to see the front of Harmony‘s gown drenched in blood, her eyes wide in death, the Spear standing upright, lodged deep within her heart. Hoch stood there, hands clasped casually behind his back, the grim expression on his face slowly turning to a satisfied smile.

  Hoch stepped forward and took hold of the Spear with both hands, yanked it free from Harmony‘s heart and walked around the stone altar toward Mattie, holding the Spear aloft, blood dripping freely from its tip. Hoch leaned over her and said in a whisper, “No one will remember your name, you Jew-loving whore. You‘ll be one of the nameless vermin whose bodies will pave the road to a new world order.”

  Mattie watched mesmerized as Hoch lifted the Spear high above her and Harmony‘s blood dripped from its tip onto her white gown. Yet the spear thrust did not come. The tip seemed to be glowing and the muscles on his forearms were in evidence as if he were straining to bring the Spear down against some unseen resisting force. Now the knots in his neck were straining as well, his face red from exertion. The last of Harmony‘s blood had dripped from the tip of the Spear onto her chest and over her heart. The Spear tip now was completely aglow, almost as if a globe of light were surrounding it

  Staring up, Mattie could see the swastika symbol in the ceiling above her, partially obscured by Hoch‘s head as the circle of gold leaf surrounding the swastika formed a halo around his head. Hoch‘s face was creased with intensity and he seemed to redouble his efforts to plunge the spear into her heart. Then, to her horror, the Spear began to slowly move down under his exertions, inch by inch coming closer to Mattie‘s heart. She screamed.