“What sort of other things?”
He paused. “My son had friends. Anthropologists. Sociologists. They went to places like Tibet, taking measurements, studying tribes. The Nazis — they’re trying to create a new cultural history. To prove they’re a superior race. They’re willing to make up history to do it, too. Not only that, but the head of this division — he has other interests as well.”
“Like?” Flossie pushed.
“Spiritualism. Trying to contact the dead.”
Flossie stilled. So the Nazis were trying to make contact with the twilight world. The world Viktor Brun now inhabited. And they were searching for ancient artifacts.
The crystal skull was an ancient artifact.
“What exactly was your son sent out to search for?” Flossie focused in on the man once more, wondering if it had been the crystal skull.
“The Holy Grail,” he said. “In the Pyrenees.”
Flossie could barely believe her ears. Did the Nazis honestly think they could send some archaeologist out to pick up the Holy Grail? The cup that Jesus drank from at the Last Supper and that people had been desperate to find for centuries?
The man’s expression became concerned. “He was beginning to worry that his time was running out. The people he was working for liked results. Fast results. They’d found many other priceless objects and —”
“What sort of objects?” Flossie stopped him in his tracks.
“I’m not sure.” He shrugged. “All I know is they wanted that Grail. They had a whole room ready for it.”
“A room?” Flossie said. “Where?”
“At their headquarters. At Wewelsburg Castle.”
Having told them everything he knew, the man returned to rest, leaving the sisters, Ada, and Flossie standing next to the gates.
“You’re going to go there, aren’t you?” Ada said, speaking first.
“I think I have to. If it’s the headquarters of the Ahnenerbe.”
“You need to take that Violet lass with you,” Alice said over the air-raid siren, which had just begun to wail.
“She seems to know the ins and outs of the living and their dealings with the spirit world,” Matilda added loudly.
“She knew about the skull,” Alice yelled. “And she speaks German. She can help you, I’m sure.”
The sisters began to move toward the gates.
“They’re right,” Ada said loudly as she and Flossie followed the women. “You need to talk to Violet.”
Alice and Matilda unlocked the gates, letting the girls out. After saying their good-byes and waiting until the sisters had disappeared from view, Flossie took Ada aside.
“I wasn’t able to tell you this before, but I discovered something.” She leaned in close to Ada so she wouldn’t have to yell. “It’s the officer’s name. I know who he is.”
“Oh?”
“His name’s Viktor Brun,” Flossie said. “He’s . . . he’s the man who sank my father’s ship.”
Ada drew back. “Oh, Flossie, no! Wait. What are you saying? You told me he knew your name. Do you think there’s more to it? That he’s here because of you?”
“No, I think it’s just a coincidence, but what worries me is that it’ll only make things worse. He and my father — let’s just say they didn’t exactly get along in life.”
The drone of planes began in the distance.
“Here we go again,” Flossie said.
The arched gates to Kensal Green Cemetery rose tall in front of Flossie. Towering columns loomed, as if they would like nothing better than to swallow her whole into the darkness beyond. This was a serious cemetery. A cemetery of royal burials, pomp and ceremony, and much importance. It wanted you to know that. Flossie almost felt that she should curtsy.
She walked toward the huge iron gates, which encased the smaller gates for the dead. She wasn’t looking forward to seeing Hugo Howsham. Not at all.
Before she could change her mind, she rapped on the iron gates, thinking about what Violet had said to her before leaving the meeting of the seven Turnkeys. She had said that if Flossie needed any help, she need only ask. While Flossie knew Violet would be more than willing to help in any way possible, it was her brother that Flossie wondered about.
“Miss Birdwhistle.” Hugo Howsham appeared before her just as the all clear sounded. Flossie almost laughed at the timing of it. It was as if even the living, busy with their war, dare not talk over him.
“Oh, hello, Flossie.” Violet approached the gates. “Have you learned more about your officer?”
“Yes,” Flossie said. “I have a name now — Viktor Brun.” She considered revealing Viktor Brun’s link to her family and then decided against it. Hugo Howsham would only twist things to make it seem as if all of this trouble were her fault somehow. “There’s more, too,” she continued. “It seems that this Ahnenerbe group is involved in trying to contact the twilight world. I’ve found out where their headquarters is in Germany, and I’d like to go there. I was hoping Violet might consider coming with me.”
Hugo Howsham would say no; she knew it.
Violet turned to her brother — tall, dark, and imposing in his finely cut coat and top hat. He twisted his walking stick in the gravel, as if about to stalk away. Then he stood his ground.
“She is taking advantage of you, Violet. Haven’t you learned anything in death?”
“Hugo!” Violet said. “That’s not true.”
“Isn’t it?” he said between clenched teeth. He strode the short distance to his sister, towering over her. “She is asking you to do her job for her. I knew no good could come of a child Turnkey at Highgate, and here we are.”
If Flossie could have blushed, she would have. She was glad she hadn’t told him of Viktor Brun’s link to her father.
Violet wouldn’t be put off. “I must go, Hugo,” she said. “You know this officer was talking about Kensal Green. Not to mention that the fate of our entire country could be at stake.”
Flossie grinned. Oh, Violet was clever: she knew exactly how to persuade her brother. Hugo Howsham wasn’t only a Turnkey who would do anything to protect his cemetery. He was also a very Victorian man with a very Victorian outlook. The fate of his beloved country was of the utmost importance to him.
“I’m practically fluent in German and used to being in an awakened state. I’ll be fine if it’s only a short journey. Surely I can be of help. It would be ridiculous of me not to go.”
Hugo Howsham stood silent and still for some time, then sighed, clearly worn down by his sister. “All right. As you wish.”
Flossie started. Something about his sudden change of heart didn’t seem right. She opened her mouth to question his decision, then closed it again. She’d gotten what she wanted. It was probably best to leave it at that, despite her reservations.
Hugo Howsham glared at Flossie, his expression hard. “You must both be careful. Gather what information you can, but under no circumstances must you let this man see you. Do you understand my terms?”
“Yes,” both Flossie and Violet replied.
Hugo Howsham deftly unlocked the smaller gates for the dead. Violet exited and, under the Turnkey’s watchful eye, Flossie took Violet’s hand in her own and thought of Wewelsburg Castle, hoping that just the name of the place would be good enough to travel by. It had worked for traveling to the Invalids’ Cemetery.
When Flossie’s eyes flashed open, she and Violet seemed to be standing at the end of a stone bridge that led to the immense gray castle, dark and foreboding above them with huge circular towers at each end. Crows called out from the trees overhead, which reached out black, spidery fingers into the sky. Close by stood a guard in a long gray-green wool coat. He was protected from the elements by a guardhouse that matched the castle — round with an arched doorway. His breath was visible in the icily cold night. A German shepherd stood obediently by his side.
Remembering their promise to remain out of sight, Flossie pulled Violet close to the wall of the bri
dge that curved around to the left so that they were half-hidden by the guardhouse. As they took in their surroundings, it began to snow. Large flakes fell from the sky. Softly, quietly, beautifully. With the castle in the background, it should have been a magical scene, and yet it wasn’t. Something about this place felt wrong. Very wrong. There was an undercurrent of bad feeling here that couldn’t be ignored.
Violet, who was sensitive to these sorts of feelings, had a pained expression on her face. “This is a bad place. Terrible things have happened here.” She closed her eyes, as if remembering, and when she opened them again, they seemed brighter than ever. “They tortured women here. Women they called witches. So many.” She frowned, focusing on a point over the bridge. “And now, in the present, over there.” She pointed. “There are huts. They’re using people as slaves to rebuild the castle. All kinds of people — Jewish, Jehovah’s Witnesses, gypsies, and others. I can hear their voices.” She covered her ears. “They wear stripes. They carry stones on their shoulders. There’s not enough to eat. Sometimes the children in the village give them bread, but it’s not enough. Never enough.” Violet’s head moved sharply to her right. Then she turned slowly in a full circle, her eyes closed again.
“What is it?” Flossie asked.
“We’re near the Externsteine. I can feel it.”
“The Externsteine? What’s that?”
“It’s a rock formation,” Violet explained. “Five sandstone pillars. It’s an ancient sacred site. Very powerful. I’ve told you before that I could feel things ever since I was a small child.”
Flossie remembered this. “That you could feel the energy of the twilight world, but you just couldn’t contact it? That no one could?”
“Yes. The Externsteine is like that. Its energy is palpable.”
A glossy black Mercedes convertible, the top closed, drew up to the end of the bridge and stopped at the guardhouse. The back window of the car opened, and inside was a man dressed in a gray-green uniform, the distinctive insignia of the SS on his arm.
“Come on,” Flossie said. “Let’s go in and see if we can find out more.”
Flossie and Violet followed the car along the bridge and then through a gatehouse that led into a strange triangular stone courtyard. Flossie realized the castle was formed in the shape of a triangle as well.
In the courtyard, another guard opened the door of the car, and the man inside alighted. He was tall and wore glasses, and by the way everyone around him saluted him with one arm outstretched, Flossie could tell he was important. Very important indeed.
He proceeded through a door held open by yet another guard and into the interior of the castle. He walked quickly, intent on his destination, and Flossie and Violet had to almost run to keep up. As they went, Flossie noticed the wood paneling and the carpets and tapestries upon the walls. Violet touched one of the tapestries as they passed by.
Another bad feeling — Flossie could see the horror written on Violet’s face.
“This doesn’t belong here,” Violet said, her hand pulling back abruptly. “I think it might be stolen.”
They reached a doorway and the man passed through it, but Flossie grabbed Violet and held her back in case Viktor Brun was in the room. The pair checked the area carefully. When there was no sign of him, they entered.
It was a spectacular room, circular with twelve stone pillars around the perimeter and long, thin windows on the outer walls behind. A huge round oak table sat in the middle of the room with twelve seats, punctuated by a special one — a heavy wooden oak chair. It was carved with intricate designs that included swastikas. Only this seat remained empty. The other eleven seats were already taken. The men rose, saluting the man Flossie and Violet had followed inside the castle, and he took his seat in the heavy oak chair.
Silence fell over the room.
The man turned to the person on his right and said something in German.
“He wants to know if Viktor Brun is here,” Violet said. “In the room.”
The man he’d asked, who was short and dark and much older than everyone else in the room, closed his eyes and began to whisper.
“Oh!” Violet gasped, hearing his words. “He’s a spiritualist.”
It took some time before the spiritualist opened his eyes and answered the question he’d been asked about Viktor Brun.
“He says he’s not here yet,” Violet translated.
“But he can’t really know that. Can he?”
Violet hesitated. “Normally I would say no, but the crystal skull might mean that Viktor Brun is more able to be sensed by the living.”
Flossie began to worry. “If he can sense him, won’t he be able to sense us as well?”
Violet raised her eyebrows. “Perhaps, but what could he do about it?”
Flossie’s eyes moved to the doorway. The spiritualist might not have been able to do anything about their presence, but Viktor Brun was of their world. “And Viktor Brun? Won’t he feel us?”
“It’s possible,” Violet answered, her mouth set in a grim line. “There are many dead here. Can’t you feel them?”
“No,” Flossie said. As a Turnkey, she was only attuned to the cares and needs of her interred.
“Don’t fret.” Violet placed a hand on Flossie’s arm. “I don’t think Viktor Brun is the most spiritual of men, and I’ll be able to sense him when he gets close. It does sound as if they are expecting him, though.”
Flossie moved from foot to foot. “What are they talking about?” she asked Violet, who was listening in again.
“Nothing of importance,” she said. “Mostly about the changes that have been made to the castle. While we’re waiting, perhaps we should search through those papers. They might tell us more.” Violet’s quick eyes had spotted a large pile sitting next to one of the men on the table.
Flossie ran over to the spot. With a whoosh, she pulled the pile into the twilight. She took them back over to Violet, who sat with them on the floor, her dress pooling around her. She began to flick through the pages — each one with its official swastika on top.
Flossie hovered over Violet, though she wasn’t much use since the documents were in German. She must have seemed restless, because Violet’s eyes met hers. “Why not investigate? There could be something we’ve missed. I’ll listen for anything interesting.”
Flossie started out around the large circular table as the men kept talking. As she walked, she eyed each of them, one at a time, frowning as she did so. It was odd — this table. Circular, with twelve seats and situated in a room with twelve pillars. It was as if they were playing at King Arthur and His Knights of the Round Table.
Flossie continued around the table until she reached Violet. She watched as Violet worked her way through the papers. Flossie noticed that Violet was flicking two particular sheets of paper forward, then backward again.
“Flossie!” Violet said. “Look at this.”
Violet had unfolded a very large piece of paper, which Flossie studied. She didn’t need to speak German to know what she was seeing.
“Building plans?”
“Yes. On a grand scale.” Violet’s finger traced the outside of the plans. “Huge walls and eighteen towers around the outside. Some of the other papers say it’s to be the ‘Center of the New World’ following their final victory.”
Flossie bristled. “Fairly sure of themselves, aren’t they?”
But Violet was intent on the papers again, flicking faster this time, pausing only momentarily to scan each one for information as she went, until she came upon a series of papers that saw her slow down and gasp.
“What is it?” Flossie was over her shoulder in a second. It seemed to be more building plans.
“Oh!” Violet gasped. “Oh, no. No!”
“What? What is it?” By the look on Violet’s face, Flossie knew it was something terrible.
“I know why Viktor Brun mentioned Kensal Green and Highgate.”
Flossie steeled herself for Violet’s explan
ation. “These.” Violet held up the drawing plans. “These are for another building. A building that will stand where St. Paul’s now stands. The building they want to govern our country from.”
“What?” Flossie exploded.
“And these and these.” Violet passed Flossie several pieces of paper. “These are for barracks. Barracks that will be built at Highgate. And at Kensal Green. As it says, ‘large, unused spaces, ideal for leveling and building on without delay.’”
“No.” Flossie examined the men sitting at the table and imagined them and their twilight counterpart ruling her country. Taking over her cemetery. Disturbing all her interred — including her sister and her niece. And in that moment, she saw that it could really happen. That Viktor Brun could find a way to make it happen.
“I think we should take these papers with us,” Violet said, beginning to put some of the papers into a pile. “Hugo will want to see —” She visibly froze. “Wait. I can feel him. Viktor Brun. He’s here. On the floor below us, I think. But he’s coming closer. Quick! We need to hide!”
Flossie’s eyes searched the room. The pillars weren’t wide enough to conceal them; however, several large trunks had been stacked underneath one window.
“Behind there.” Flossie pointed and the girls ran as fast as they could, Violet scooping up her skirt and hiding it behind the trunks at the very last second. Violet tapped Flossie’s arm to indicate that Viktor was now in the room.
He lost no time in making his presence felt, his voice belting out a barrage of German. This was more for his own benefit than anyone else’s, because the living officers couldn’t hear him.
Violet leaned over and whispered into Flossie’s ear. “He’s yelling at the spiritualist. He’s angry that he couldn’t sense that he was waiting downstairs.”
The spiritualist didn’t answer.
There was a pause from Viktor Brun, then another tirade. Louder this time. Flossie’s jaw closed tight as she listened to the ranting of the Man with No Heart and wondered about all those who had faced him in life.
The Turnkey of Highgate Cemetery Page 7
