64
Jade and Marcas were in the back of an SUV, their hands and feet bound. After about an hour on the highway, the vehicle turned onto what felt like an unpaved road. Centuries-old oak trees cast ominous shadows under the moonlight.
“Where are we going?” Marcas asked.
Sol turned around and looked at him. “The Orden has a small property in the Perigord-Limousin Natural Park. I think you’ll find it quite comfortable.”
A two-story stone house stood at the end of the forest road, next to a tumbledown dovecote. The brown shutters of the house were open, and the lights on the first floor were on. A man in a hunting jacket drew back the curtains and waved. Jade stiffened when she saw him.
The bodyguard, who had been driving, parked the vehicle in front of the porch. He hopped out, made his way around the car to open the door for Sol, and then opened the back, untying the bindings around Marcas’s and Jade’s feet. The man emerged from the house and started down the grassy path. He was smoking a pipe.
“Look, our friend the gardener is coming to say hello,” Sol said.
Joana made a face. “How kind of him. I could have done without.”
“Now, now. Be nice. He’s prepared the house for us.”
“What devotion.”
The gardener reached them and greeted Sol. He ignored Joana.
“I’m happy to see you again. I’ve prepared a buffet, and rooms are ready for you and our honored guests.”
“Thank you. I’ll be sure to mention your efficiency to the board. We won’t be here long. Bring our guests in for dinner.”
The man rubbed his stubbly cheek. “Really? I thought I would spend a little pruning time with them.”
“Do as you’re told.”
“What about her?” the gardener said, pointing his chin at Joana.
“She’s seconding me in this operation. Consider her your superior.”
Joana snickered. “Did you hear that? Do your duty. Bring the prisoners.”
The man glared at her. “We’ll see once this mission is over. Believe me.”
He stepped aside and let Sol and Joana enter the house. Then he took Marcas and Zewinski in. The walls of the entry hall were filled with stag trophies, and under each mount was a copper plaque indicating the year the animal was bagged. Some were more than a century old.
The gardener freed their hands.
In the main room, a man was adding two place settings to the table. The walls were hung with paintings of local squires in eighteenth-century hunting gear. The landowners were staring into the room, looking suspicious of any visitors. Farming tools were laid out here and there, adding a finishing touch to the rustic look of the room. Sol sat down in one of the carved chairs and looked around. He pointed to two empty chairs.
“Come, my friends. Join us for something to eat.”
Marcas and Jade looked at each other, then sat down in silence. Large platters full of carrots, beets, lettuce, chicory, radishes, and tomatoes were lined up next to a soup tureen filled with an orange-colored liquid and a large bowl of boiled potatoes.
Marcas helped himself to some vegetables. “I’m surprised. You’re not much of a carnivore.”
Sol was serving himself generously. “True. Meat is forbidden. I haven’t eaten any in sixty years. It’s a secret to longevity.”
Jade wasn’t touching any of the food. She looked at Sol. “You do know what happens when law-enforcement officials are kidnapped in this country, don’t you? Every police officer and gendarme in France will be looking for us. You won’t get away.”
“Shut up,” Joana interrupted. “One more threat and I’ll kill you. Slowly.”
“With just one hand?”
Joana shot up and grabbed a knife with her left hand.
“Enough,” Sol bellowed.
Glaring at Jade, Joana held her position a few seconds. Then she slowly sat down again.
Sol turned to Marcas. “Yes, we were talking about meat. It contains toxins that cause disease. Fruits and vegetables, however, are extraordinarily nutritional. I recommend the pumpkin soup to your right. It’s excellent.”
“Is that what the Thule teaches?”
“Among other things.”
Marcas observed the old man and then said, “Since you honor us with such fine food, would you also be kind enough to shed light on some obscure points?”
“Why not? I rarely have the opportunity to talk with Freemasons. I usually kill them.”
“What is the Thule’s goal?”
“That is an exhaustive subject, but in short, our goal is preserving the superiority of our bloodline. I’m honored to be part of this organization, which is focused on stopping the invasion of blacks, Arabs, Jews, Chinks, Japs, and mixed breeds of all kinds.”
“Oh, so the Thule’s a kind of animal-rights organization,” Jade said. “Although I wouldn’t put you and the Fund for Animal Welfare in the same league.”
“How did you find out about the Freemason archives?” Marcas asked.
Sol waved his hand. “I prefer to tell you about our order. Perhaps you’ll understand better, but considering the group you belong to, I doubt it. Take a look at the bust behind you.”
Marcas and Jade turned around and saw the sculpted head of a man with a receding hairline, double chin, and long, straight nose. The stand it was on was decorated with a circular swastika atop a dagger.
Sol lit a cigar. “That was Rudolf Grauer. We owe him everything. You’ll find his bust in each of the order’s properties. He created the Thule society long before the birth of the Nazi Party. He was a genius, and he changed the face of the world. Compared with him, Hitler was a no-account. Grauer was born in 1875, the son of a locomotive engineer. As soon as he was old enough, he became a merchant sailor. In 1900, he settled in Turkey, where he made a considerable fortune before returning to Germany, certain of his path in life. He was quickly adopted by the aristocracy and became Count Rudolf von Sebottendorf. At the time, a nationalist movement was afoot in Kaiser Germany, embodied by various patriotic and anti-Semitic groups given the general name völkisch.”
Marcas was listening carefully. “Anti-Freemason too, I suppose?”
“What do you think? At the time, our founder was part of the Germanenorden, and he rose quickly in the ranks. He left for Munich in 1918 to found a lodge called the Thule-Gesellschaft. In less than four months, he managed to recruit the elite and start two newspapers, including the Beobachter, which the Nazis would later use. He was quite influential, and he used the same operational approach as the Freemasons, which, of course, he had studied carefully. But his was based on Norse paganism.”
“And that’s your symbol?” Marcas asked, pointing below the bust.
“The Thule’s emblem incorporates a circular swastika — the Thule was using that swastika when Hitler was begging people to buy his paintings on the streets of Vienna — and a dagger of revenge.”
“How interesting. The same kind of weapon is sometimes used in Freemason ceremonies.”
Sol went on. “Very quickly, Sebottendorf dictated the first and only commandment: the white race must rule the world. He was a visionary with one word as a credo: Halgadom.”
Jade was shifting in her seat.
Sol went on in a soft voice. “Halgadom means sacred temple. You Freemasons want to recreate the Jewish Temple of Solomon, and we want to build a temple for all the people descended from the Aryan Thule race — Nordic, Germanic, Saxon, Celtic, and, well, French. All those with blood in their veins from the migrating Germanic tribes, the Goths and the Francs.”
“Our temple is one of fraternity, equality, and all humanity.”