The two chatted until the night air grayed, avoiding the old man’s impending task with subjects more pleasant. But as it always is in the world of the living, the hour arrived without their consent.
“My friend, it is time,” the old man announced rising from his bedside chair.
“I agree,” Steiner said. “Do you think we’ll meet again?”
“Either on this side or the other.”
“Then, my friend, please keep an eye out for me.”
“I promise.” Raul gently smiled, in spite of the sadness in his heart.
The words came as a hand, that shook only slightly, reached out and gently touched index and middle fingers to the dying man’s third eye.
The passage was immediate.
CHAPTER 2
Year: 1933
“You surround yourself with the undesirable.”
Hess’ words were spoken toward General Haushofer’s front window. The monotone statement carried no decipherable emotion. Haushofer’s response, however, was volatile.
“Rudolf, stop!” Karl Haushofer snapped, bolting from the sofa. He paced his drawing room, obviously agitated. Then, in defense of his wife, added, “Martha has not had anything to do with that side of her family since she was a young girl.”
Wiping the smug smile from his face, Rudolf Hess looked back into the room. His disciplined tone was still cold. “Even so, the party knows of her heritage.”
“You mean Goebbels knows.”
“You know his position on that matter,” Hess retorted.
“You promised that would not be a problem,” Haushofer shot back, unable to hide his anger.
Hess smiled to himself. He had rattled Haushofer, which was just what he wanted. Yet with his flying cohort, Hermann Göring, heading the Nazi party, Hess knew he could keep Haushofer’s Jewish wife from scrutiny, even if the propaganda minister, Goebbels, wanted her eliminated.
“Nor will it be,” he said, smiling at the general. “But … this other matter is becoming an embarrassment.”
“I … I have told him he needs to be cautious.”
“He most assuredly does,” Hess spat out. He glared at Haushofer for a moment, then tempered the strain between them with a quick smile. “Everyone is appreciative of what Erik did.”
Erik was Erik Hanussen, Hitler’s confidant and personal psychic. Before that, he was General Haushofer’s partner, with whom the general had retrieved the most powerful document on magic the world has ever known.
The plan had been to share the document, each getting half since half the plethora of information contained in it should have been enough to satisfy any man.
Still, he had only half, which lately, had become a constant irritant to Haushofer. Erik had the other half and apparently, it was the half containing information with the greater degree of power.
“They should be. Without him, Hitler would be hanging wallpaper again instead of being your precious little figurehead,” Haushofer said, feeling his anger rising again.
“Be careful. Adolf might be a loose cannon, but his minions gladly do his bidding.”
“Erik had a hand in that as well.”
“His power is unquestioned. Still, the accusations about his heritage appear to be true.”
“True or not, there’s little your colleagues can do about it.”
“Anyone can be dealt with,” Hess cautioned darkly.
Checking his emotions, Haushofer sought to gain the upper hand in this verbal battle. “Erik Hanussen is not just anyone. Perhaps once he was little more than a charlatan. Not now … not since our Ecuadorian journey.”
“It’s difficult to believe his act could come even close to matching your power.”
“He opens himself to all avenues. That’s part of his magic. Rudolf, you must look beyond the trappings. That golden mansion, the yacht, the women, and all his millions tend to distract. You must focus on his results.”
“You mean what he has done for the Führer?”
“Last year, Hitler was finished. He had lost the election badly. The party wanted him out, and frankly, even that book of his was a joke.”
“Did you read it?” Hess demanded indignantly.
“Parts. I recognized the style well enough to know that you had a major hand in it,” Haushofer shot back.
“I gave him everything you taught me,” Hess admitted.
“The instability of the man detracts from the message. But when the man is looked upon as a god, the message rings louder and clearer than its truth. That’s what Erik did for your Führer. What Erik wrote in that paper of his was dipped in magic. It instantly aligned the reader to the being Hitler thinks himself to be. Never mind that Adolf is a far cry from his delusions. As they believe in him, they believe in his message. Your people didn’t have a chance. That’s why no one put up a fuss when, after the Reichstag fire, you launched your takeover.”
“All Erik did was to predict that the Reichstag would burn down.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure if I were you. You know he had dealings with that communist before the fire.”
“It is rumored.”
“Rumors … who cares about rumors?” Haushofer shouted. “What counts is belief. With that one prediction, the entire country believed in him. Why do you think, immediately after that, he predicted that Adolf would come into power?”
“He foresaw—”
“He manipulated! That’s what he did. And that is why no one fought your takeover. The people knew it was ordained. Hanussen put all of Germany into Hitler’s hands to manipulate however he wants.”
“You’re saying everything we’ve accomplished is his doing?”
“I am, and for your sake, you’d better believe it. Look how easily he got that fool, Lubbe, to set the Reichstag on fire. Trust me, Rudolf, whether it is one man or a million, Erik has power over them.”
The third highest ranking member of the Nazi party stepped back from his teacher and slumped into the closest chair. “What are we to do? He has the people behind him. He has Hitler’s ear and even one of our party’s main goals was his idea.”
“The concept of planetary overpopulation and clearing a space for the expansion of the German race was stolen from others,” Haushofer corrected. “Erik is not Lebensraum’s originator. As for the people, the masses have a short attention span.”
“But he is the one calling for the communists and gypsies to be first to go. We’re already sending both to Dachau.”
“So? Years from now, I doubt anyone will remember who called for what or who went first.”
“You know our plans. The Jews will be next,” Hess said, looking every bit like a man without a plan. “Everyone knows he’s Hitler’s confidant. Now, word of his Jewish heritage is beginning to spread. There’s no way we can have a Jew positioned as he is.”
“Then I take it you’ve come to me for help,” Haushofer summarized.
“Actually I come with two requests. One was for advice about Hanussen. But it seems there’s nothing we can do about him without magic of our own.”
“He is powerful,” Haushofer agreed, doing his best to keep from smiling. His arrangement with Hanussen, from Haushofer’s point of view, had become intolerable. Yet, on his own, the general had failed to come up with a way to terminate it. But now, with Hess telling him of the Nazis’ dilemma, it was as if he was being handed his sought-after solution on a platter.
Haushofer took his time, savoring the moment, before responding to his former pupil. “I could help. But I would need something in return.”
Hess looked up and waited.
“Your word on the protection of my family is appreciated. But in these times, I think it would be foolish to rely on such a kind offer without some sort of collateral. Fortunes change. You, sir, are on top today. But what about tomorrow? My family’s safety must not hinge on the winds of change.”
“You have my word,” Hess reminded him. “What more can I give you?”
“I would have your bl
ood oath stating that if the Nazis are responsible for any harm coming to Martha or my son, Albrecht, your life will be one of misery for as long as you live.”
Hess looked at Haushofer uneasily.
“You will ensure that Erik is forgotten?” he asked.
“He will die, and his memory will be erased.”
“All right … I will sign your blood oath.”
“One more thing, Rudolf. I will accompany the soldiers when Erik is taken. When I do, I want access to his safe. Whatever is in there is mine.”
“If it’s money—”
“Nonsense,” Haushofer interrupted. “I seek only that which is mine.”
“Take whatever you want,” Hess agreed. “I shall assign as many men to you as you need. As long as that charlatan is dispatched, you can have anything in that mansion you want.”
“He will be,” the magician promised as he walked to a large oak desk tucked into the corner of his drawing room. With his back to his one-time student, Haushofer bent over the desk scribbling something. Straightening, he turned back to Hess and handed him the paper along with a feather quill and small knife.
The document contained unfamiliar words written in blood. The wound on Haushofer’s right arm was still flowing making the purpose of the knife obvious to Hess.
Accepting the challenge, Hess made a small incision and poked the quill into his blood. Signing his name, he handed the paper back to his teacher saying, “We have an agreement.”
Not long after the deal was struck, Martha came into the room with a lunch tray. The meeting turned social and remained so for the better part of an hour. Then, just as Hess was getting restless, Martha abruptly cleared the plates and left the men alone.
“There was something else?” Haushofer asked as the door to the kitchen closed behind his wife.
“It is more a question than a request,” Hess responded.
Haushofer waited, his emotions steady now that he had what he wanted.
“As you know, we have begun our plans for expansion,” Hess resumed. “Already we are gearing up production for the military. Still, the preparations will take time—likely years. But when the plan is put into action, Göring and I envision our air force as playing a crucial role in the coming Blitzkrieg.”
“I see your love of flight remains strong,” Haushofer chuckled.
“More than ever. Yet it hasn’t dulled my pragmatism. You’ve seen what the Japanese are developing. England isn’t that far behind. America, if they put their mind to it, would probably surpass them all. But for now, they sleep in their ignorance.
“The thing is, when we act, I expect the entire world to take note. They will follow our example, especially when it comes to developing their air power. Because of this, I foresee the need for having something no one can match mechanically.”
“You’re not suggesting I design some sort of flying machine, are you?”
“No, our engineers are quite competent. But I was wondering about the possibility of putting a little magic into their creations?”
“Interesting,” Haushofer murmured, intrigued by the idea.
Standing, he walked to his desk, glanced at the signed blood contract, and turned back to Hess. “It is said, that this planet at one time played host to dragons.”
“Seriously … dragons?” Hess scoffed.
“The first of which,” Haushofer continued, ignoring his student’s reaction, “were considered pure magic. They flew without wings, and from what I’ve read, there has never been a beast of more superior aerial ability.”
“As interesting as that is, I was hoping for something we could use now,” Hess said dryly. Then, noticing the excitement on Haushofer’s face, questioned, “Why are you talking about something that may have been …”
“Millions of years ago, I suspect,” Haushofer smiled. “But that might not be our biggest issue.”
“What do you mean?” Hess queried, his hope rising with his teacher’s ambiguity.
“I mean, Rudolf, I’m going to need to do some research.”
“Are you saying it might be possible to recreate what those dragons had?”
With his thoughts whirling wildly about, Haushofer barely heard his student. He responded with little more than a shrug. When he realized Hess was still expecting an answer, the general, who through the years had added the title or attributes of professor, spiritualist, and magician to his resume, was too far along with his thoughts to bother catching the man up. So instead, he put him off.
“Let’s take care of that problem of yours first, and then maybe I can come up with something.”
CHAPTER 3
Not long after the magician’s conversation with the Deputy Führer, General Haushofer, as he was known to the Sturmabteilung Assault Division troops assigned to him, was striding along Lietzenburger Strasse in front of Hanussen’s palace.
For an hour, he had been preparing for the attack on his old friend—preparation necessitated by Hanussen’s abilities. Warding spells drawn in chalk around the entire building would dampen any magic tried within the palace. In hopes of reducing the armed resistance, Haushofer also included a design every twenty feet that would cloak their advance.
To his men who were observing him, the general was merely drawing undecipherable, child-like lines.
“What’s he doing?” the SA sergeant asked his lieutenant.
“How should I know? I’m still trying to figure out how the man looks the way he does.”
“What do you mean?” the ex-soldier turned SA thug asked.
“After the war, I took a few courses at the university. I didn’t take his class, but I saw him enough to know he looks twenty years younger now than he did then. The general must be over sixty by now, but look at him!”
“Maybe that’s his son?”
“No, that’s the same man all right. I wonder how he’s doing it?”
“I wonder?” the sergeant echoed, as he watched the young-looking man who was drawing chalk lines on the street and alleyways surrounding Berlin’s famous Palace of the Occult.
***
“Are your men ready?”
“Yes, sir,” the lieutenant answered, saluting the general who was even younger looking up close.
“Do we know each other?” Haushofer asked, noticing the lieutenant’s intense stare.
“No, sir. I’ve never had the pleasure.”
Haushofer thoughtfully regarded the officer for a moment but then moved on. “The man we seek is dangerous. Still, we have surprise on our side. I will go in with you, but I want those two,” Haushofer said, pointing to the sergeant and one other burly-looking fellow, “to be my personal guards.”
After the lieutenant’s second salute, Haushofer again studied the building. Set back from the street about thirty yards, their first challenge would be getting across the lawn to the front door unnoticed. But with the wards in place and no one guarding the entrances, he was sure they would achieve their first objective without being noticed.
The plan was to block all the entrances but enter only through the front. Once inside the massive, three-story, brick structure, the goal was to find the psychic as quickly as possible. How that would play out would depend on Hanussen’s physical defenses.
The General gave the order to attack. Advancing on all four sides, the other exits were covered by the time the main group moved up the steps to the front entrance.
Crashing through the massive double doors, the men entered the marble foyer. To the right was a sitting room lined with ceiling-high windows that were covered with ostentatious golden draperies. Aside from the pretentious furnishings, the room was empty. To the left and beyond the stairs, the walls of the rooms visible from the entrance were covered with antique tapestries and their floors in Persian carpets. These furnishings also were over the top in extravagance. The soldiers slowed as they moved through the lavish surroundings, obviously taken aback by the wealth on parade before them.
“Move!” the lieutenant hi
ssed. “Fan out and find him.” At the officer’s order, the soldiers scattered.
Stopping just inside the doors, General Haushofer was waiting for word on Hanussen’s location when a soldier leaned over the balcony.
“Up here, sir!”
“He’s upstairs.” Haushofer gestured to the two men assigned to him, ordering them to proceed him up the graceful staircase that adorned the far end of the foyer. Leaping up the red-carpeted stairs with its mahogany banister, the men led the general to the second floor.
With the lieutenant and three others bringing up the rear, the squad saw an SA soldier fall as shots rang out. The sergeant and the other soldier sped down the long corridor to where he lay, the general on their heels.
Haushofer pointed to a doorway. At a nod from the sergeant, the burly soldier, never slowing, slammed into the door. As the man and door crashed to the floor, the sergeant dove through the opening. The bark of more shots being exchanged could be heard in the hallway.
Stopping just before the opening, the General heard the thud of the sergeant’s body hitting the floor. He stood aside as the lieutenant and the other soldiers, with guns at the ready, ran by, entering the fray. The sound of pistol and automatic weapon fire filled the room and hallway. Then there was silence. Still the general waited.
“Sir, are you okay?” a voice rang out from inside the room. “We have him, sir.”
Haushofer peered cautiously through the doorway. The rectangular room, a palatial twenty by forty feet, was the epitome of opulence. From its gold-gilded crown molding to its tapestry-covered walls, the room and its furnishings were an ostentatious expression of luxury. Wealth that was now covered with blood and bodies.
Stepping over the sergeant’s body, Haushofer walked through the man’s blood that was pooling on the tile. Trying not to splatter blood on his pants, he noted the three females and one male who had died in Hanussen’s defense. The three other bodies were SA troopers.
In the far corner of the room, face down on the floor, was his old friend. A large SA man sat atop Hanussen. The lieutenant stood beside the two, his pistol still drawn.
Spirit of the Dragon: A Story of Magic, a Witch, and the Third Reich Page 2
