Hearing the word ‘occult’, Finn barely repressed a snicker. Time to roll out the aluminium foil.
‘Several years ago, I saw a documentary that claimed Hitler used a Foucault pendulum suspended over large maps to assist with military planning.’ Kate raised the delicate teacup to her lips and took a ladylike sip.
‘No surprise there. Hitler, Göring, Goebbels, Hess, they all had an obsession with the occult. Although none in the top echelon was as deeply devoted to the arcane mysteries as Heinrich Himmler.’ Holding the teapot aloft, Aisquith inclined his head in Finn’s direction.
Unimpressed with Paracelsus’s secret elixir, Finn shook his head, declining the refill. ‘You’re talking about the bespectacled dude who headed up the SS, right?’
One side of Aisquith’s mouth quirked upward in a blatant sneer. ‘Yes, that dude.’ Put-down issued, he turned his attention back to Kate, the sneer instantly reworking itself into a congenial smile. ‘The SS, as you undoubtedly know, was an elite organization within the Nazi hierarchy responsible for the internal security of the entire regime.’
‘And what the hell does any of this have to do with the tattoo?’ Finn snarled, wishing the Brit would stay on point.
‘As these symbols so vividly illustrate, Nazism is far more than a political doctrine.’ Aisquith picked up the cell phone from the table. ‘This symbol that dominates the centre of the design is unique to German occult beliefs. Known as the Schwarze Sonne, or Black Sun, it’s a sun wheel comprised of zigzag sig-runes. While it harkens to the star Sirius, it’s a mysterious orb often described in the esoteric literature as a prima materia mass.’
‘How utterly fascinating.’
‘Indeed.’
‘Glad we got that settled,’ Finn muttered under his breath. ‘What about the skull? Nothing mystical about that bad boy.’
‘On the contrary,’ Aisquith retorted. ‘The German totenkoph, or Death Head as it’s more familiarly called in English, connotes the willingness to lay down one’s life to defend one’s comrade. The totenkoph insignia always adorned the uniforms of the Schutzstaffel.’
‘Just so I don’t feel like I wandered into a German language class, can we stick with the mother tongue?’
‘As you like,’ the other man replied, oblivious to the fact that he was annoying as hell.
‘So this tattoo has something to do with the SS. Is that right?’ Kate enquired.
‘The Ahnenerbe, to be precise; both the Death Head and the Black Sun emblem are significant to that organization. I suspect that this tattoo may have originally designated membership. That said, the individual in the digital photograph is obviously a twenty-first-century Nazi devotee.’ Aisquith turned his head, pointedly looking in Finn direction. ‘A personal acquaintance of yours?’
Finn’s back straightened, his hands involuntarily clenching into fists. About to ask the Brit if he wanted to take it outside, Kate beat him to the punch.
‘What’s the Ahnenerbe?’ she asked. Brows drawn together, her gaze dropped to Finn’s balled fists.
Recognizing that grey-blue gaze as a silent entreaty, Finn uncurled his hands.
‘All in all, the Ahnenerbe is a rather fascinating group,’ Aisquith replied. ‘After the Nazis seized power in 1933, Himmler subdivided the SS into numerous sections. The Ahnenerbe was the academic and scientific branch of the SS. What we today would refer to as a think tank. Unfortunately, the Ahnenerbe’s vast archive disappeared in the waning days of the war. Whether destroyed or hidden is anyone’s guess.’
‘And how does the Black Sun relate to the Ahnenerbe?’ Kate next asked, on the fast track to becoming the teacher’s pet.
‘Bearing in mind that the Ahnenerbe was the scientific corps of the SS, its members believed that an invisible universal force known as Vril could be created using the astral energy from the Black Sun.’ Leaning towards Kate, making like a man about to impart a big secret, Aisquith continued in a lowered voice, ‘During the last years of the war, Nazi scientists in the Ahnenerbe were desperately trying to generate the Vril force in order to weaponize it.’
‘And what? Make an invisible ray gun?’ Finn snorted derisively. ‘Gimme a break! This just proves what I already knew about the Nazis: You can fool some of the people all of the time and those are the morons you want to actively recruit.’
‘While I find Nazism a repugnant doctrine, no one can accuse their scientists of being anything less than brilliant,’ Aisquith asserted, quick to defend himself. ‘German physicists were convinced that if they could generate the Vril force, they could use it as an alternative energy source to power their war machine, the Germans fast running out of oil. Desperate, Nazi physicists were actively developing a technology to use the Vril force to power flying saucers and –’
‘Hate to interrupt the lecture, but we’ve got a late-morning appointment on the other side of town,’ Finn interjected, worried that if they stayed much longer, Aisquith would pull out his aluminium foil space suit.
‘Oh, so sorry,’ the other man mumbled disappointedly. ‘Perhaps we can continue the conversation later in the day.’
‘That’s a wonderful –’
‘Unfortunately, we got a full schedule,’ Finn said over the top of Kate, effectively drowning her out.
‘Mmmm … a pity that.’ The Brit shoved a hand into his trouser pocket. Removing a chrome-plated key, he handed it wordlessly to Finn.
‘Let me guess? Key to the city.’
‘A motor scooter that’s parked in the back alley,’ Aisquith informed him. ‘I couldn’t help but notice that you arrived on foot.’
Beaming, Kate walked over and, going up on her tiptoes, kissed him on his unshaven cheek. ‘Thank you, Cædmon. That’s very generous.’
‘Yes, well, shame that you couldn’t stay longer. I hadn’t even got to the Nordic runes that rim the periphery of the tattoo.’
Finn pocketed the scooter key. ‘Another time.’ Place. And century.
23
‘ “I hope the skahns aren’t too stale,” ’ Finn mimicked in an exaggerated English accent as they made their way to the alley behind the bookstore. ‘Jesus, talk about a pompous ass.’
‘Your rudeness knows no bounds,’ Kate shot back, clearly miffed. ‘Where do you get off saying those kind of things? You don’t even know Cædmon.’
‘Trust me. That guy was an open book. Yeah, pun intended. And who was being rude?’ Finn raised an imaginary teacup to his lips, pinky finger crooked. ‘One lump or two, Lord Percy?’
‘You are such a Neanderthal!’
Just to prove Kate wrong, he cupped a gentlemanly hand around her elbow, ushering her down a dim alley. The sunless passageway was strewn with empty crates and bits of broken glass, not a soul in sight. Unless you counted the scrawny tabby who hissed its displeasure at the intrusion.
‘My old Oxford pal, Professor Higgins, is a serious scholar. Isn’t that what you told me back in DC?’
‘Cædmon Aisquith is a highly educated man who –’
‘Happens to be a wingnut. And if he’s not a wingnut, then the guy is a hardcore, straight-shooting alki.’ With his free hand, Finn hefted an imaginary liquor bottle to his lips. ‘Glug, glug, glug. Bottoms up.’