The Parsifal Pursuit

by Michael McMenamin

  “Josef Lanz?” Mattie asked. “That‘s who you were shouting at? I couldn‘t see his features because of the hood. That man tried to kill me on the Orient Express. He beheaded a man in Egypt. A European, someone he knew well. It was horrible.”

  Cockran looked around but Lanz and the other Templar had not returned. “I‘m afraid so,” Cockran replied. “After Lanz rescued us from the SS, it‘s not as if we had much choice.”

  “But who are they?” Mattie asked as she held onto Cockran for support.

  “Templars. According to Lanz, the Order of the New Templars was formally recognized in Austria in 1905 by Emperor Franz Joseph, but they trace their lineage back to the Crusades. The Austrian branch of the Templars took the Templar gold from France in the fourteenth century, moved it to this remote location and literally built this castle around the gold.”

  “You mean there‘s gold hidden in the castle as well as the Spear?” Mattie asked.

  Cockran laughed. “I asked Lanz the same thing. He said the gold had long since been moved to a bank in Switzerland controlled by the New Templars.”

  “What‘s going to happen to the Spear now?” Mattie asked.

  “Neither the Kaiser nor Hitler are going to have it. Lanz made it clear that much is certain,” Cockran replied.

  “You mean there‘s still a chance….” Mattie began, but was suddenly cut off by Professor Campbell‘s cry of horror.

  “Oh, my god! This is terrible! Not again. Oh, my god!”

  Mattie turned to a terrified Professor Campbell, standing by a window overlooking the courtyard. They all moved over there to join him, Hoch prodded forward by Sullivan, Mattie limping along.

  Mattie looked through the stained glass windows of the Great Hall. Many of the windows were already broken from the harsh alpine winters, more now from the recent gunfire. The carnage below was almost indescribable. Three SS men were sprawled around the courtyard, their black-uniformed bodies carrying the marks of multiple bullet wounds. But that wasn‘t what had caused Campbell to cry out in horror. Four men, some wounded but still alive, were on their knees, their heads held back by two of the warrior monks, exposing their necks, while Lanz stood in front of them, his sword held in two hands. Harmony and McNamara were nowhere to be seen.

  Mattie turned away from the window and buried her head in Cockran‘s chest. “I can‘t watch this again, Bourke. It‘s so grotesque. Like something out of the middle ages.” Moments later, she looked again and saw the two templars hold the four heads high, one in each hand as Lanz shouted “You will all burn in hell, you Godless vermin!” but only the fourth SS man‘s eyes were still open, blinking once at Lanz‘s words before his eyes also rolled up in his head. Moments later, all four heads were casually thrown to the ground in a haphazard fashion while Lanz wiped clean the blade of his sword on the uniform of his first victim before returning it to its scabbard.

  Mattie lifted her head from Cockran‘s chest. Everyone else‘s eyes were still focused on the bloody scene in the courtyard below. Campbell had a horrified look on his face while Cockran and Sturm betrayed no emotion. Neither did Sullivan whose twin Colt .45s were trained on Sturm and Hoch, the latter looking as if he had seen a ghost. His face was white, his eyes were wide and the smell of urine told Mattie he had wet himself in fear.

  Sullivan was the first to speak, turning towards Cockran. “Shouldn‘t I be taking these two down there before Brother Lanz puts away his sword?”

  Mattie was chilled. “You can‘t let them do that, Bourke! Kurt saved my life and Lanz is a merciless man who tried to kill me on the Orient Express.”

  Cockran‘s eyes narrowed at this but he remained silent. She knew exactly how bad it looked to be pleading for the life of her most recent lover with the man she really loved. But she couldn‘t bear to have Kurt‘s blood on her hands. “Whatever happened was my fault. You can‘t let them kill him.”

  Cockran looked at her. “I won‘t. He saved your life. That‘s good enough for me.” His voice betrayed no emotion.

  “Have no concern on my account, Fraulein McGary,” Sturm said. “If you allow me to retrieve my pistol,” he said, looking at Cockran, “I will take my chances with these Templars.”

  Mattie turned back towards Cockran to see his reaction to Sturm‘s statement.

  “Mattie tells me you were a German naval officer. Is that correct?” Cockran asked.

  Sturm nodded. “I was once a naval officer.”

  “If I return your weapon, do I have your word as an officer that you will convey this scum here,” he said, nodding at Hoch “to the appropriate authorities in Munich for trial?”

  “If that is what you wish. But I offer no guarantee as to what the authorities in Munich may do with him. The SS have many friends in high places.”

  Cockran nodded. “I appreciate your candor. But I have in mind a specific person into whose custody I wish Hoch to be delivered. Captain Jacob Weintraub of the Munich Police.”

  Sturm nodded. “I‘ve heard of this Käpitan Weintraub. A Jew. The ‘last honest man in Munich‘ by reputation.”

  “You know him?” Cockran asked.

  “Nein. I know of him and his reputation. Yes, you have my word as a German officer that I will deliver Herr Hoch to Käpitan Weintraub.”

  “Fine,” Cockran said. “Bobby, keep your eye on Hoch while Herr von Sturm retrieves his weapon.”

  Mattie tugged at Cockran‘s sleeve. “Bourke, can we talk?” pulling him away.

  “What is it?”

  “Well…. I feel disloyal because Kurt did save my life and, since he gave you his word, I believe he‘ll keep it. But there‘s something you should know about him.”

  “Go on.” Cockran said, his voice still cold.

  “I think he‘s a Nazi. One of the old fighters who was a member before the Beer Hall putsch in 1923. I mean, he‘s nothing like Hoch but he‘s a party member. I‘m sure of it.”

  “But you do trust him to keep his word?” Cockran asked.

  “I do.”

  “Good, because we don‘t have many options anyway. You and Professor Campbell are flying out of here with us. Come on,” Cockran said, pulling her by the arm, “let‘s go ask him. Our only alternative is to let Sullivan or Lanz execute Hoch.”

  Sturm admitted he was a Nazi but once more gave his word. Mattie could see that Cockran believed him. Still, she was not surprised when he asked “Would you mind if I had Brother Lanz have two of his monks accompany you? Even if you bind him, several nights alone with Hoch are not optimum conditions.”

  Sturm nodded. “So long as I have my weapons, I have no objection.”

  Sullivan tied Hoch‘s hands firmly behind him as Lanz returned from the blood-soaked courtyard and its four headless SS corpses. Mattie watched as Professor Campbell made straight for Lanz and, drawing him aside, engaged him in a spirited conversation with many gestures as he talked earnestly to him for a good five minutes. When he was finished, both Lanz and Campbell approached her.

  Lanz bowed to Mattie. “I apologize, Fraulein McGary, for my unChristian behavior that night on the Orient Express. I knew that Professor Campbell was a believer and that he was a member of a brother order in Scotland. But he did not know he was being used as a cats-paw for the Kaiser and I could not take the risk that this time the Kaiser might be successful in claiming the Spear for the Hohenzollerns. Professor Campbell has persuaded me that removing the sacred symbol of Our Savior‘s ultimate sacrifice from the European continent would be in the best interests of everyone. That such evil men as the SS have attempted to take the Spear from us is proof that it will be safer in England than it is here in Austria. That Gaius Cassius Longinus is also buried in Great Britain makes it all the more fitting that the Spear of Destiny should at last be reunited with its original owner.”

  Lanz turned away and then hesitated before turning back to Mattie. “There is something else I need to tell you. Over ten years ago, one of our own committed a grave injustice against your family. The Templars did
not order it nor did we condone it. But your father died because one of our brothers feared he was too close to discovering the secret of the Spear. Please accept my deepest regret. Your father was a brave and holy man, a true scholar of biblical times. Hans Weber, the man responsible for his death, was expelled from our Order for his sin. It was fitting that you saw him die at my hands in Alexandria. Delivering the Spear of Destiny to your father‘s homeland cannot excuse his murder but I ask you to accept it in his memory.”

  Mattie‘s mind was numb at revelation of her father‘s death as Lanz knelt, picked up the Spear in both hands and, staying on his knees, offered it to Mattie who accepted it wordlessly, still reeling from shock. Oh my God, she thought, recalling Professor Campbell‘s story about her father writing the Hofburg for recent photographs of the Spear after he first heard Campbell‘s theory. My father lost his life because he tried to find the truth about the Spear!

  Mattie blinked back tears as she once more saw her father‘s smiling face, his gray hair and the twinkle in his eye whenever he called Mattie his little princess, his little Highland Princess. The father she would never see again. And then, she could blink back her tears no longer. They streamed down her face as she felt Cockran‘s strong arms embrace her and she continued to cry thinking only of all the years she had missed with her father and all the years she hoped she would have ahead with the man holding her.

  66.

  Tristan

  Munich

  Monday, 15 June 1931

  WINSTON Churchill hosted a celebration two days later in Munich in a private dining room at the Hotel Vier J ahreszeiten where his party was staying. The chandeliers were crystal; the champagne Pol Roger and the food superb. Caviar to start, followed by Dover sole, and roast duckling. A new wine with each course. Mattie smiled as she recalled hearing what one of Churchill‘s friends had said. “Winston‘s tastes are simple. He is easily satisfied with the best.”

  It had taken nearly two days of flying to bring Mattie and Cockran to a private aerodrome near Munich, where Churchill and Paddy eagerly awaited news of their adventure. Paddy had hugged them both and then sat with his eyes wide as Mattie told the story of her quest for the Spear, carefully editing for his young ears all the blood, violence and romance. Mattie‘s number one fan hung on her every word. With Paddy tucked in bed by nine, Cockran and Mattie joined Churchill and Rankin for dinner.

  At Mattie‘s request, Harmony had not been invited. Which was just as well since she had more or less kept to herself since their return to Munich. Mattie had been surprised to see Harmony with Cockran and the Apostles on their rescue mission. Tagging along to a firefight in the Alps did not fit with Mattie‘s image of an art historian. But it clearly had not been her cup of tea and Mattie took grim satisfaction in Harmony‘s shell-shocked appearance on their journey back to Munich. She told Cockran all that Harmony had said to persuade her the two of them were lovers and he had agreed with her plea not to confront her over it. “I don‘t want the bitch to have the satisfaction of knowing that she put one over on me.”

  Churchill stood and raised his champagne flute. “To a most successful fortnight,” Churchill paused, a small smile on his cherubic face. “All went according to plan.”

  “Plan? Winston, to whose plan are you referring?”Cockran asked. Churchill smiled. “Mine, of course. Thanks to you, the late Sir Archibald‘s company has been made safe from the Nazis and, thanks to Mattie and her employer Mr. Hearst, the Spear of Destiny will soon be resting securely in the British Museum. Those were my hopes for which I made plans. And they have been fulfilled. Foiling the assassination of Hindenburg by depriving the Kaiser and his son of the Spear was an unexpected bonus. Using violence to achieve political goals is incompatible in any liberal democracy, including the Weimar Republic. So, let us be of good cheer.”

  Cockran laughed. “I‘ll drink to that.”

  At evening‘s end, Mattie was torn. Her knee was stiff and swollen from Hoch‘s kick and all she wanted to do was take two aspirin and go to bed. She was still trying to process and come to grips with her father having been murdered over the Spear. She really wasn‘t up to talking with Cockran about Kurt even though this was their first night back in civilization. It had been hard enough telling him what Harmony had said. She would have forgiven him for sleeping with Harmony because she had done the same with Kurt. Now there was no reciprocity, only her guilt. She had not been able to work out how and when she would tell him. She had tried twice in the Alps but he put her off. She would have to try again, soon. Their future––if they still had a future––depended on it.

  She had asked Winston for his advice earlier in the day. He was the closest thing to a father figure left in her life and she needed––badly needed––someone to talk to. So she had told him everything. Her fights with Cockran. Jumping to the wrong conclusion about Harmony. And, most humiliating of all, her brief affair with Kurt. “I‘ve tried to discuss with Bourke what went on between me and Kurt and what I was feeling. I wanted to have it out in the open.”

  Churchill pursed his lips but said nothing.

  “But Bourke won‘t let me tell him. He just takes me in his arms, kisses me, and says we should leave the past in the past and focus on our future.”

  “Wise advice, I would think, my dear,” Winston said.

  “But I feel so guilty.”

  “It seems to me he‘s forgiven you for any, ah, indiscretions, you may have committed.”

  Mattie sighed. “I guess so. Maybe. No, not really. He says there‘s nothing to forgive. An innocent misunderstanding he calls it.” Mattie let out a short laugh. “But there was nothing innocent about it. Maybe I‘m asking too much. But I wish he would talk about his feelings.”

  “His feelings for you? Or his feelings about you and Herr von Sturm?” Winston asked.

  “Both. But really the latter. He‘s very open about the other, how much he loves me.”

  “Well then, my advice is to leave well enough alone. You two seem to have survived what in the long run you may look back on as merely a small bump in the road of your romance. These things may happen. Take them as they come. Dread naught. All will be well.”

  Easy enough for Churchill to say. Would he be so calm if Clemmie had cheated on him? She didn‘t think so. But Mattie still had no viable plan to bring everything out in the open. She was relieved, therefore, when Cockran begged off their being together that night. He was limping pretty badly with his banged-up hip and its new stitches put in that day and they had each promised the other a rain check when they healed, maybe even by tomorrow night, Cockran had said with a wink. Mattie hoped she could come up with a new approach by then.

  HARMONY awaited her lover‘s arrival. They had been separated for over two weeks and every moment spent apart had been agony. But always, she had done what she had been told and gone where she had been directed. She had even saved his life during that horrible night of terror in Munich. Soon he would be here and she would have her reward. She heard a knock on the door and opened it to see her lover, Reinhard Tristan Hoch, in all his black-booted SS glory.

  “Hurry,” she said, “before anyone sees you,” as she pulled him inside and closed the door behind him. I knew you would come, just as you promised,” she said as she eagerly embraced him, pulling her hero, her Tristan, towards the bed. “Your Isolde is ready.”

  67.

  All I Care About Is Mattie

  Munich

  Tuesday, 16 June 1931

  RISING from bed felt like rising from the dead, Cockran thought, his body heavy with sleep, his hip hurting even more than the night before. Mattie had quickly agreed with his suggestion that they sleep in separate rooms to give their wounds time to heal. And for that he was grateful as he had meant it literally as well as figuratively. They had not had much chance to be alone together and he feared that once they were, she would attempt to complete the confession she had started in the Alps about Sturm. What was it with women anyway? The odds were great tha
t she wanted to tell him she had an affair with Sturm after Harmony had duped her and she felt guilty. He could understand that. He felt guilty himself about how close he had come to the same thing with Harmony in Munich. But he sure as hell didn‘t want to talk about it. It was in the past and it couldn‘t be changed. As far as he was concerned, talking about it would not make things better. Leave the past behind and move on. That was what guys did. It hurt him that Mattie had fallen for another man in a moment of weakness but they still loved each other and all he wanted now was get her out of Germany and as far away from that blond Nazi bastard as possible.

  Only the prospect of a breakfast date in his room with Mattie at 8:30 a.m. could lure him out of bed and into the shower. He called in the order for room service at eight. The food came late, at twenty to nine. Mattie did not come at all.

  Cockran placed a call to her room at nine o‘clock, but there was no answer. He began to be concerned at a quarter past nine when Mattie still hadn‘t arrived. By nine thirty, Cockran stood outside Mattie‘s room as the tall and wiry hotel manager unlocked the door and pushed it open. “Oh! Mein Gott!!” the manager shouted in a broken voice. Cockran charged into the room and shoved the man aside.

  Blood. There was blood everywhere. Pooled in murky brown beneath the headless body of a hotel bellman sprawled on the sofa. Splotched in dark stains along the carpet. Moving through the sitting room to the bedroom, he saw the blood was sprayed against the white sheets of Mattie‘s bed. The bellman‘s severed head lay propped on a pillow.

  “Call the police!” Cockran shouted. The hotel manager said nothing, leaning against the door frame where Cockran had shoved him earlier, his face drained of color. “Call the police!” Cockran shouted again, getting the manager‘s attention. The manager stared back, slowly processing Cockran‘s words. Cockran pointed towards the phone that rested on a small table next to a desk chair and spoke again. “Call the police. Ask for Captain Weintraub.”