PARADOX - Chapter 18

April 26, 2012 – Hotel Altez Zollhaus - Bad Tölz



Mueller threw his feet up on the coffee table and leaned back into the plush chair. Running his hand across his stubble cut hair, he glanced at the slim wimpy looking man sitting across from him. “Tell me why I need you?” he asked. “I have more associates on their way here at this moment who will do anything I want at the mere mention of the word gold. Fleischer already has the American and the woman under observation and my team will quickly find and deal with the others.”

“You have manpower or muscle as the Americans might say.” Schäfer reached for his tea sitting on the coffee table. “But you do not know the significance of that short second message. I can assure you it is more valuable than mere gold.”

“Nothing’s more valuable than gold, except more of it!” Mueller spat back and walked over to the small bar and opened another beer.

Schäfer could tell that he was unaccustomed to working as a team member. “The second note stated; "On March 13, 1946, The miracle breakthrough occurred. The Reich will be saved and reborn. After that, I only received one note from Eva in 1948 that said for me to look in the Argentinean City of Villa La Angostura in a grave marked Hanna Reitsch. I have also been deceitful, dear family. Dolf and Eva had a daughter and named her Klara Wolff, after his mother,” Schäfer read. “The note also said that a treasure far greater than all the gold in the world waited there and the drawing of an unfamiliar symbol was interposed on the right bottom of the note.”

“I would do anything to bring back the old days,” Mueller mused, and you know it. That’s why I refuse to harm the Fuhrer’s granddaughter.”

“The symbol on the bottom right side of the note was the one used by the SS Brotherhood of the Bell.”

“And just what was that?”

“In 1945, a mysterious Nazi secret weapons project code-named "The Bell" was taken from its underground bunker in lower Silesia, along with all its project documentation and a four-star SS general named SS Obergruppenführer Hans Kammler. On board a massive six-engine Junkers 390 ultra-long range aircraft, "The Bell," Kammler, and all project records disappeared completely, along with the gigantic aircraft. It is thought to have flown to America or Argentina. Just before the Junkers’ escape the SS murdered most of the scientists and technicians involved with the project.”

“So?” Mueller looked bored.

“The secret weapon, according to one German Nobel prize-winning physicist, was given a classification of "decisive for the war," a security classification higher than any other secret weapons project in the Third Reich, including its atomic bomb. What was "The Bell"? What new physics might the Nazis have discovered with it? How far did the Nazis go after the war to protect the advanced technology that it represented?”

“This, my dear Mueller, may lead us to that secret. And Kammler, of all the high-ranking Nazis indicted and tried at Nuremberg, either posthumously or in absentia, was never formally indicted, much less brought to trial. He is altogether missing from the docket, just simply missing. No formal search was ever made for him that I know of.”

“Why haven’t we heard anything about this?” Mueller defensively puffed out his chest. “It’s been 65 years since the end of the war. Everyone involved in that secret has to be dead by now. Obviously the Bell didn’t help win the war.”

“I think they were at a critical time in the development of the Bell,” Schäfer noted. “They were close to understanding the power it represented but weren’t able to control that power yet, or possibly their power source was insufficient.”

“Like I said, it has been 65 years, that’s time enough to perfect anything. Why hasn’t the Third or a new Fourth Reich come back into power if they had such a miracle weapon?”

“It may be more complicated than that,” Schäfer amswered. “They may be waiting for the right opportunity or even the right person to come forward.”

Mueller sighed. “The Reich wouldn’t be the same without the Fuhrer anyway.”

“Ah, but they do have the Fuhrer,” Schäfer beamed, standing up and walking towards the window. He was suddenly very enthusiastic about the subject. “They may not have “Adolph Hitler” but they have his daughter who has a granddaughter and they have directions he left behind for building the thousand year Reich.”

Mueller’s interest sparked at the mention of a new Reich. “How do you know all this?” He usd a disdainful voice. “You’re a nobody in the Ministry of Culture.”

“In The Ministry of Culture I may be a nobody, but that is the way I want it to appear,” Schäfer replied. “In secret I am the leader of a powerful group dedicated to the resurgence of the Fourth Reich and reinstatement of the fatherland. That group is called the Karotechia. The original Karotechia was part of the SS Ahnenerbe, Himmler's master plan for the systematic creation of a "Germanic" culture that would replace Christianity in the Greater Germany to exist after the war, a kind of SS-religion that would form the basis of the new world order. We seek to restore the pure Aryan race to its rightful place in history.”

“You’re full of little surprises.’ Mueller grinned. “Secret weapons, secret societies, and so much more. Unfortunately, my goals coincide with yours. I am sick and tired of the men and women who pretend to be Germans today. They are nothing but lackeys for the British and Americans. They’re weak, condescending, and I am ashamed to call them Germans.”

“Your shame is my shame,” Schäfer beamed. “My grandfather was Ernst Schäfer, who commanded the Institute for Inner Asian Research and was eventually responsible for all scientific projects within the Ahnenerbe. He joined the Nazi Party after Hitler's rise to power in 1933, as well as the SS, rising to the rank of Sturmbannführer (major) in 1942.”

“I salute you little man.” Mueller raised his beefy hand in a mock salute. “But unless we find that gold before they do, we will not be able to go in search of Hitler’s ghost. It takes a considerable amount of money to travel around the world and outfit an expedition.”

“My acquaintances in the Karotechia are willing to finance such a venture. In fact, several of them are on their way here as we speak to reinforce our efforts. They may not be combat men such as yours, but they are very accomplished gentlemen.”

Mueller started to respond but a knock sounded at the door. He looked at Schäfer suspiciously then realized it could be more of his own manpower showing up. He signaled for Schäfer to answer the door as he pulled his PPK/S and moved to the bathroom just in case it was unwelcomed visitors.

“Herr Schafer des gutenmorgens, der wein ist heute gut.” The man at the door smiled as Schäfer slowly opened it.

“Good morning to you too, Herr Szekler,” Schäfer replied. “Yes, the wine is good.” He motioned for Szekler to join him, noticing that Mueller crawled from his hiding place and resumed his position by the window. “I would like to introduce Herr Vlad Szekler,” he continued. “Herr Szekler, this is Herr Mueller.”

Mueller saw a short elderly man with white hair, thick glasses, a balding pate and carrying about a hundred extra pounds on his small frame. He was being saddled with old, overweight and out of shape men and he didn’t like it. The man’s eyes were his only redeeming feature, they were crystal blue and bright with intelligence. He grunted a welcome and turned back to the window.

“Herr Szekler is a prominent historian,” Schäfer continued, mindful of Mueller’s discourtesy. “Or I should say Doctor Szekler. He is a Doctor of ancient history in Budapest. He also holds several Masters Degrees in German History and is one of the preeminent academics on the history of National Socialism.”

“Just do your job, whatever the hell that is, and keep out of my way,” Meller growled. “I suppose he’s in for a cut of the prize?”

“Without him, we may not win the prize.” Schäfer glanced at the short balding man. “The secret to both of our quests lies in history and I am no historian. I also have several other specialists coming on board with unique knowledge we may have need of.”

“Keep the list short,” Mueller spat. “My men can’t watch out for a gaggle of overweight egg heads and do their jobs at the same time. Besides, I don’t like splitting the pie too many ways.”

Mueller suddenly spotted something from the window, rushed to the door, opened it, and ran from the room without saying a word.

“Strange gentleman.” Doctor Szekler removed his glasses to clean them.

“He’s no gentleman!” Schäfer rolled his eyes. “But he is necessary for the success of our mission right now. He can be replaced very quickly if the need arises.”

“You are correct,” Dr. Szekler waved his hand. “Our personal Kommando Spezialkraefte have been doing nothing but training for years and it’s time they earned their keep.”