While Walls was not interested in the information business – “Just the pussy” – as he was often known to say, the Count would share some information with Rafelo, since his territory put him at odds with the Italian mafia. The Count’s information on the movement of money, future government pardons, blackmail, and murders kept Rafelo one step ahead in Italy. Rafelo, Walls and Stöver and the girls helped keep the Count one step ahead of every nation on earth.
“Happy Birthday, Count!” Maria brought out a white box and placed it in front of the Count. “Happy Birthday, Count!” All the others began to say, as they picked up their boxes possessing what the Count specifically requested from each one of them for this occasion.
“Thank-you, Thank-you.” The Count dipped his head while stating his gratitude to show his sincerity. The Count’s own personal girls – Maria the Italian, Fa the Norwegian, and Monika from his own Holland – were all by his side.
The three young ladies were the Count’s core group. Assistants who were responsible for carrying out all of the Count’s international intrigues: funding the Nazi party as early as 1921, financing the Czechoslovakia effort to topple Neville Chamberlain and his government after Munich, bailing out a broke Winston Churchill in 1938 through their South African gold mining millionaire friend, Sir Henry Skrakosch.
The Count’s core group was trained by his first assistant, Matilda Wallerton, a long time live-in lover to the famous English spy: Sidney Reilly. Reilly and the Count met in the spring of 1918 and were the key players in the plot to assassinate Lenin later that year on August 30th.
When Reilly was captured and executed by the Soviets in in 1925, Matilda and the Count continued the work of spying through the diplomatic receptions with a new type of cold-blooded ruthlessness Matilda had learned from her previous lover. She passed this knowledge on to her three beautiful, talented and deadly successors.
The Count’s girls were his eyes and ears, as well as his messengers, enforcers, manipulators, and when necessary, his assassins.
“Happy Birthday, Count.”
Inside Herr Stöver’s box were documents that would be the first thing the Count would read when the party was over. Of all the “presents” the Count requested as gifts, these documents from Stöver were the only item that had to do with his personal life and what would later become Vichy France. The other boxes had important information as well – matters that had to do with dealings in fourteen other countries.
He did not open any of the boxes in front of the guest, as was his custom. This would be done with his three girls after the party.
“Well? What do you think?”
“Why, it’s beautiful. I’ve never seen on with such colors, and feel how light it is…”
“Then, please, keep it.” Hans said, putting it back into the box. “To see such happiness on your face gives me great joy, and should an object such as this keep that look of happiness on our face, then it is well worth the price.”
“Dr. Frank, really!” Elaine countered, flattered yet embarrassed.
Dr. Frank and Elaine Krafft were forty kilometers northeast of Warsaw. Major Rusk and Karl Ernst Krafft were with them earlier in the morning in Thorn, but went ahead since they were running late for an emergency meeting in Warsaw. Rummaging through many of the vaults of the now defunct Polish government, some of Rusk’s men had came across many Polish astrological papers Krafft and the Dark Fire project could use.
An arriving train could be heard touting its horn in the distance.
“Shouldn’t we be going?”
“Yes, as you wish.” Frank said, secretly hoping she had forgotten when their train would leave so they could be stranded in this little town for the rest of the day. “Frau Krafft, have you ever been to Warsaw?”
“No, I have never been east of Berlin until we went to Frau Ney’s.” Elaine said while feeling a cold shiver run up her spine. Something was about to happen, she felt. He’s going to do something now.
“Frau Krafft… Elaine…” Hans Frank said while taking hold of her left arm and blocking her passage out of the door.
Elaine looked around. The shopkeeper and his two helpers were no longer in the store.
Despite several bomb hits, most of the old castle’s structure was still intact to support the main building. Major Rusk and Krafft passed two guards in front of the cellar door to the grand old stone cellar that housed the ancient relics of Polish, Russian, and Lithuanian kings.
Down a long inclined corridor they walked until they came to the room with the vaults that contained, among other things, hand-written manuscripts by Copernicus himself. The items for Krafft to review were already laid out on a large, partly decayed, wooden table.
“Simply choose what ever you want to bring back to Berlin,” Rusk quietly said while looking around the musty brick walls, “…the sergeant will sign out all the items and deliver whatever you do not wish to carry.”
Rusk put his hand on the table.
“What a stinking low culture that would keep such prized notes and important documents of history in a hole like this.”
“We are lucky these are not saturated with mildew.” Krafft said as if to support Rusk’s statement, but not totally commit in agreeing to all of it.
“Herr Krafft, I will leave you for a moment while you are looking through these. There is another assistant from your department here searching through some files down the corridor. She can assist you while I’m gone. The office upstairs has a phone, call me if you need anything or wish to leave early.”
“Thank-you, Major. Until then.”
Krafft went immediately to work. For many years he had wanted to research the Polish archives. The building was a highly regarded and sacred place in astrological societies throughout Europe, since it held the original works of Kepler, Regiomontanus, and of course, Copernicus.
Karl Ernst and many others, however, were never able to break through the Polish barrier of bureaucracy or suspicious to obtain the permission to visit and learn what works were stored here.
Once in 1926, an exchange program was set up between the astrological societies in Berlin and Warsaw in which Krafft participated. On July 15th, a group of Polish astrologers came to Berlin to give lectures, view the German libraries, and brought a few original letters of Copernicus which Krafft and several others savored over every word.
However, a month later when it came time for Krafft, Lucht and the other German astrologers to travel to Warsaw and give their lectures and view the Polish archives, the arrangement fell apart. The Polish astrological society could not be reached to confirm their arrival, nor had they provided the train tickets, hotel vouchers or border passes sent as promised by the Warsaw group. Of course these were all the courtesies provided by the German group.
“Filthy Poles.” Krafft remembered Lucht saying. “They’re frauds… going on and on about their silly philosophy and characterizations. Do you realize there was not one technical aspect of astrology they covered?”
“Why would they do this?” Was all Krafft could question to contribute to the disappointed group conversation amongst Germany’s most distinguished astrologers.
“Why those bastards just wanted a free trip to Berlin… at our expense.” Herr Groesler vented. “Don’t you see? We paid their way over here, put them in fine hotels, fed them, even paid then an honorarium… and now they sit in Warsaw laughing for not paying one pfenning.”