iar black uniform of the SS. . . . Motioning for Casca to sit, Himmler sat himself opposite him behind a plain wooden desk. The room was bereft of any ornamentation other than a single picture of Adolf Hitler sitting on Himmler's desk in a plain silver frame. Speaking softly, the head of the SS adjusted his glasses with a fingertip, "Well, now, Casca Rufio Longinus, I regret that we here at the Haven must be deprived of your company without first having a proper opportunity to show some old-fashioned hospitality."
Casca spoke for the first time. "What do you mean, in the weeks remaining?"
"The war is lost, and we have many things yet to do. Those brothers you saw in the chapel are the last of our order in Germany to be sent to other countries. This experiment is at an end and it has been for our purposes reasonably successful."
Noting the consternation on his guest's face, he continued. "Perhaps I should enlighten you a little on the matter. It won't make any difference if you know. It was the Brotherhood who brought Hitler to power, to serve our purposes, which were and are the destruction of the Jews, who next to you we detest above all things on this earth." A pious tone came into his voice. "You killed our Lord Jesus, but it was the Jews who made it possible; you were merely a tool. For that crime the Jews must be erased. That was the purpose of the final-solution program and it worked quite well for the short time we were in operation. Somewhere between five and six million of them have been eliminated; that accounts for about twenty-five percent of the total world Jewish population." He touched his finger tips together under his chin. "Not a bad start, would you say?"
Casca said nothing, merely stared in shock. For a soldier to kill was one thing, but the way this mild-looking man spoke of the deaths of millions who never had a chance to even defend themselves or fight back, was a horror his mind couldn't grasp.
Pleased at the effect he was having the Reich Führer continued. "Adolf Hitler was merely a member of the second circle of the Brotherhood and until forty-three we had him well under control.
"But then he began to think he was the real force and genius behind all that had taken place, and as you know, once he began to exercise his own judgment on military and political matters, the scene rapidly deteriorated. I must confess we were a little careless in letting him get so much personal control of things, but that's history or soon will be. And even now we must occasionally give in to his whims, at least, as I said, for the next few weeks. By then the war will be over and Hitler will be dead. So it is necessary to send you to Berlin. He wishes to see you.
"But have no fear, we will meet again. It may even be possible that I may be able to salvage something out of the defeat and take control of Germany again. I shall remain in the country to the end to see if that's possible. If it is not, then I too shall die. But the Brotherhood will not. We are in every country in the world preparing for the next round. Like you we have time on our side. What matters a few centuries so long as the desire is achieved?"
Casca cleared his throat, face grim. "And what is that?"
Himmler rose from behind his desk and touched one of a series of buttons on the corner. . . .
"Why, to establish a state church of the world which we will control. That's why it is necessary to break down all existing structures. Britain is finished as a world power. Her foreign empire will not long survive the death of Germany. The Catholic Church is in a state of complete ineffectiveness and that will continue until it will be something people will pay no more than lip service to. And the Jews ..." For the first time venom accented his words. "We are not finished with them either. Anywhere you find anti-Semitism you find us close by, whether it is the Ku Klux Klan in America or the Spanish Inquisition, we will destroy them. Even now plans are being made for the use of other groups and races to aid us in the great work, and they like you will be only tools, never knowing they are merely puppets and dancing to the tugging of their strings by the Brotherhood."
His dialogue was interrupted by a short rap on the door. Himmler gave permission to enter, and the door opened. Zeitsler stood in the entrance with two guards behind him. "It's time to go. Elder, your plane's waiting."
Himmler sighed, and remarked, "No rest for the weary. You will remain here until I send for you. General Zeitsler, he will be your direct responsibility. Auf Wiedersehen, Herr Longinus."
The two guards stepped forward, tough, cold-looking men. One on each side, they left the Reichführer's office. Turning he took one quick look at the man who had thrown the world into turmoil. He had returned to his desk sitting there. Mild mannered, unobtrusive, someone you would never look twice at on the street. Wiping the lenses of his glasses gently with a clean white handkerchief, murmuring softly to himself.
The closing of the door shut him out.
The guards escorted him back through the maze of corridors and halls downstairs, deeper into the bowels of the mountain. Guards were everywhere. There was none of the normal slack discipline that usually occurs when one has been out of action at a safe job for too long. These men were not bored, they were deadly in their intensity and devotion to duty.
He was shown into a room without windows, large enough that he wouldn't bump into himself, but that was about all there was except for a comfortable-looking single bed, a night stand, and a small table with a marble top that he presumed was what he would eat on.
When Langer inquired as to the length of his captivity, Zeitsler would merely say, "Patience, my dear man, what's a few weeks to you?" "I believe I know what the Elder"—he referred to Himmier in this manner when they were alone—"I believe the Elder has some definite plans for you that will require your leaving soon. Personally, I'll be glad when you do. I'm really not cut out for the role of a jailer. Once you leave I can return to my troops and at least be able to participate in the final struggle. Ah, death, where is thy sting?"
Several times medical personnel visited him to take blood and tissue samples. What they found out, he didn't know. Perhaps they were trying to learn why he was what he was. He really didn't know or care, but Zeitsler more than once upon reading the analysis of his examinations had whistled softly between his teeth, a thing he did only when he was truly amazed or surprised. February gave way to March and the war raged on again after its brief respite. This was the final blow. Germany would be once and for all completely destroyed, to never rise from the ashes they would leave her in.
A thousand bomber raids by the Americans followed by the huge night raids of the Royal Air Force pounded the major cities from the air while victorious armies swept in prisoners by the tens of thousands, men without weapons or fuel to resist the overwhelming logistical and material superiority that engulfed them. There were isolated victories in small actions for the Germans, but these only delayed the inevitable by minutes.
The SS continued to fight fanatically, usually to the last man or bullet. They knew full well what awaited them if they were taken alive, especially by the Russians. When they fought the Americans or British to the last bullet they would often surrender. When they fought the Russians to the last bullet, they saved it for themselves.
Breslau, Torun, and Poznan were surrounded and held out for a few weeks. But by the end of February, the Russians had a firm front in depth on the Oder River less than forty miles from Berlin.