‘Perfect,’ he said to Ryan as he clambered through the hole. ‘Now let’s get out of here.’
At the Luftwaffe base, Schellenberg gave orders for the Stork to be refuelled, commandeered the station commander’s Mercedes and driver and set out for Wewelsburg with Asa. It started to snow and as they approached, Wewelsburg was plain to see, light at the windows and over the main gate in total disregard of any blackout regulations.
Asa looked up at the castle and its towers in the falling snow. ‘My God!’ he said in awe. ‘It’s incredible.’
‘I know.’ Schellenberg reached forward and closed the glass partition so that the Luftwaffe driver couldn’t hear what they were saying. ‘Looks like a film set. Actually it’s a personal retreat for the Reichs-Fuhrer, a centre for racial research and a home-from-home to the elite of the SS.’
‘But what do they do there?’
‘The ReichsFuhrer is obsessed with King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table. So, he has his twelve most trusted lieutenants sit at a round table. His knights, you see.’
‘And you’re not one of them, I take it?’
‘Very definitely not. No, you have to be,a lunatic to indulge in those games. They have a memorial hall with a swastika in the ceiling, and a pit in which the remains of these special ones will be burnt on death. There are twelve pedestals and urns waiting for the ashes.’
‘You’ve got to be kidding!’ Asa said.
‘No, quite true. I’ll show you if we get a chance.’ Schellenberg laughed and shook his head. ‘And people like these are handling the destinies of millions.’
They booked in at the entrance hall and left their greatcoats and caps with the sergeant of the guard who checked his register.
‘Yes, General Schellenberg, the ReichsFuhrer is expecting you for seven o’clock in his private sitting room in the South Wing. I’ll take you up, sir.’
‘No need. I know the way.’
As Asa followed Schellenberg across the hall and they turned along a corridor he said, ‘You’re right. This place puts Louis B. Mayer to shame.’
Schellenberg checked his watch. ‘We’ve got fifteen minutes. Come on, I’ll show you that memorial hall I told you about. It’s just along here. There’s a little gallery, as I remember. Yes, here we are.’
There were perhaps a dozen steps up to an oak door. It opened easily and he could immediately hear voices. He paused, frowning, then turned to Asa and put a finger to his lips. Then he opened the door cautiously and they went in.
The circular room was a place of shadows, only dimly lit. Asa was aware of the pedestals and urns Schellenberg had described, the pit beneath the ceiling swastika, but it was the people present who were most interesting. Rossman, Himmler’s aide, stood to one side waiting. The ReichsFuhrer stood in the pit itself, face to face with SturmbannFuhrer Horst Berger. They all wore black dress uniform.
‘I have brought you here, Berger, to this holy place before you depart on what I can only describe as your sacred mission.’
‘An honour, ReichsFuhrer.’
‘Now let’s go over the details. You will meet the Fuhrer’s plane which will land at the Luftwaffe base at Cherbourg at six tomorrow night. I shall be with him. You will escort us to this Chateau de Belle Ile where we will spend the night. At seven o’clock the following morning the Fuhrer will have breakfast with Rommel and Admiral Canaris. They will arrive by road.’
‘And when do I take action, ReichsFuhrer?’
Himmler shrugged. ‘It doesn’t really matter. I suppose the end of the meal might be appropriate. How many men will you have in the guard?’
‘Thirty.’
‘Good. That should be enough.’
‘Hand-picked, ReichsFuhrer.’
‘Good _ the fewer the better. We are a special brotherhood, those of us involved in this, for there are some who would not agree with what we intend.’
‘As you say, ReichsFuhrer.’
‘General Schellenberg, for instance,, but he’s cleverer than the proverbial fox. That’s why I wanted him elsewhere these past three weeks. So, I gave him this ridiculous mission to occupy him. To bring Steiner out of England. An impossibility. I happen to know from our intelligence people that the agent working for us in London, Vargas, also works for the British. We didn’t tell Schellenberg that, did we, Rossman?’