They Used Dark Forces

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They Used Dark Forces Page 47

by Dennis Wheatley


  ‘By no means, mein Führer,’ Gregory replied. ‘Our earth is only one of ten thousand worlds. Science has shown us that the stars are as innumerable as the sands of the sea. With the exception of the handful of Planets in our own solar system, every star is a sun and most of them have their own system of Planets revolving round them. Science has told us, too, that all the heavenly bodies are composed of more or less the same materials and that all of them, like everything else in the universe, are subject to growth and decay. They begin life as molten bodies and through the aeons gradually cool until they become extinct. Yet in their long lives there is, compared to ours, a single moment of time when they have cooled sufficiently for their crust to harden and produce first vegetable then animal life. In view of the incalculable number of heavenly bodies in the universe there must, at this moment, be at least several hundred of them that are passing through the same stage of development as this world of ours. Their inhabitants may not resemble us physically, but it would be unreasonable to suppose that they do not possess intelligence, in some cases almost certainly superior to ours.’

  ‘I see; I see,’ Hitler muttered. ‘Then you think that when personalities here can progress no further, their next incarnation takes place on another world?’

  ‘Exactly, mein Führer. And I feel no doubt at all that when the time comes for you to leave your present body you will be born again in a world where you will be given opportunities to become an even greater ruler than you have been in this.’

  ‘You interest me greatly,’ Hitler declared excitedly. ‘But I have walked enough for today. I am tired now. I must go down and rest.’ On that this second private conversation ended.

  Considering it unlikely that the Führer would send for him three days running, on the 7th Gregory decided to risk a visit to Sabine. When he arrived at the villa she was delighted to see him but soon began to reproach him bitterly for his neglect of her.

  To excuse himself he told her that there had been several casualties among the staff in the Air Ministry Map Room and replacements for them could no longer be spared; so those remaining had to do longer hours and now, like sailors, had been put on four-hour watches. As, in the present chaotic condition of transport, it took four hours to come out to the villa and return, that had put a visit to her out of the question until that day, when he had persuaded two colleagues each to take half of his watch for him. He added that he had hoped by this time to find that she had left Berlin.

  She shook her head. ‘I’m better, much better, but not completely cured yet and I won’t go until I am.’

  ‘How soon does your doctor think that will be?’ he asked.

  ‘Another week or so. Perhaps a fortnight.’

  ‘But my dear girl,’ he protested, ‘the Russians will be here in a fortnight. They have just launched another of their great offensives. Within three weeks they will have captured Berlin. I’m certain of it. You positively must go before there is any danger of the city being surrounded and all escape routes cut.’

  ‘Yes, that’s what Kurt says.’

  Gregory raised his eyebrows. ‘So he’s turned up again?’

  ‘He has been to see me several times. As I told you he is genuinely in love with me; so he too is anxious for my safety. Naturally, I’ve continued to refuse to let him come back and live here, but I let him spend Sundays with me.’

  ‘I thought you found him a bore, so were glad to be rid of him.’

  She gave a bitter little laugh. ‘It is I who am bored these days. For the past five weeks I’ve seen hardly a soul and it has been getting me down terribly. Anyhow, it was only as a lover that I found Kurt unsatisfactory; he is always interesting to talk to.’

  Later they had a meal together, and before leaving Gregory again endeavoured to persuade her to leave for the south; but he could not move her from her decision to remain until she was completely cured.

  When he was only half-way back to central Berlin a major air-raid began. The thunder of the ack-ack guns was deafening, the sky a great, twinkling carpet of bursting shells, bombs rained down, mostly on the northern part of the city and soon, from the many fires they started, the streets were almost as bright as by day.

  During the next few days the situation began to look desperate. Colonel-General von Vietinghoff, who had taken over from Kesselring in Italy, reported that General Alexander had launched a full-scale offensive and that without big reinforcements it would not be possible to continue to hold the Gothic Line. General Model’s encircled army in the Ruhr was losing thousands of men in killed and prisoners every day. In Czechoslovakia and Austria two more great armies, consisting of the survivors of the scores of divisions sent to South Russia, the Balkans and Hungary, were cut off. In Holland the Army Group under von Blaskowitz had its communications with Germany threatened by the Canadians. The British armour was driving towards Hamburg and that of the Americans towards Leipzig and the Elbe. In the north the Russians had taken Stettin, outflanked the German line and were overrunning Mecklenburg; while in the centre they were launching attack after attack against the Oder, which was the last line of defence for Berlin. It was now clear to everyone in the bunker that only a miracle could save Germany from being completely overrun by her enemies.

  On the night of the 10th Hitler again sent for Gregory and Malacou. When he had given them his usual limp handshake and told them to sit down, he said:

  ‘Gentlemen, things look very black for us. But after the conference today my good friend Dr. Goebbels tried to lighten my depression by reading to me a passage from Carlyle’s Life of Frederick the Great. You, Herr Major, will no doubt know it. In 1796 that great soldier-king was at war with Elizabeth of Russia. His armies had been defeated and the Russians were at the very gates of Berlin. It was thought that nothing could save the city. But on February 12th the old Empress died. Her son, Peter, had always hated her and immediately he succeeded he reversed all her policies. The young Emperor was a great admirer of King Frederick; so he at once ordered his armies to halt and offered Frederick an armistice. Thus at the eleventh hour, by what is known as the “Miracle of Brandenburg”, Berlin was saved. Now last time——’

  A violent fit of coughing caused him to break off. When he had recovered from it he went on, ‘Last time you were here Herr Malacou predicted that the Anglo-American armies would never reach Berlin; yet from the progress they are making I cannot help fearing that they will unless something utterly unexpected happens to stop them. He also predicted that our enemies would shortly be subjected to a great blow that could alter their whole political outlook. It seems that only something of that kind could halt their advance. Can you reassure me that such a miracle is really likely to take place?’

  Gregory and Malacou entered on their usual act. For some moments the occultist rambled, then he produced the following predictions which Gregory translated as: In less than a week the Führer would receive the support and encouragement that it had been earlier foretold would come to him unexpectedly in mid April. This support was associated with the Moon and must, therefore, come from a woman. Although the Russian front was holding it presented a greater menace to Berlin than did the breakthrough by the Allies in the West. The Anglo-American armies would be halted while still some distance from the capital, but the Russians would be in the outskirts of Berlin before the month was out. The event which could alter the whole political outlook of the Allies was the death of President Roosevelt, and it would occur on the 12th.

  At that Hitler jumped to his feet, exclaiming, ‘We are saved! I knew it. My intuition is never at fault. There is to be another Miracle of Brandenburg! The President’s death will alter everything. The Americans and British will become our allies against the accursed Communists.’

  Then he swung round on Bormann. ‘But there remains one danger. We must not be caught in Berlin before the Western Allies can come to our assistance. We will adopt the plan that we have so often discussed. The Bavarian Alps are a natural fortress. Among them the employment
of armour is almost impossible. There is certain to be some delay in agreeing terms with the Americans, so for a while we may have to continue to fight on two fronts. Unless Berlin is seriously threatened, I shall remain here; but preparations must be made for a move to Berchtesgaden. Give all the necessary orders.’

  ‘Jawohl, mein Führer.’ Bormann shot out his arm in the Nazi salute; the others did likewise, then they all left the room.

  Next morning the exodus began. As the Führer intended to remain in Berlin for as long as it could be held, Obersalzberg was too far distant for the headquarters to be established there as yet; but it was decided to form one at Krampnitz from which Keitel and Jodl could come into Berlin daily; so a number of the junior staff officers were sent to make the necessary preparations, while all but a handful of the servants were packed off to Berchtesgaden.

  Among those who left was Himmler’s liaison officer, Obergruppenführer Fegelein. That evening the ex-jockey got very drunk and took no pains to hide his joy at having received permission from his Chief to join him at Hohenlychen. At intervals between pouring brandy down his throat he mercilessly twitted the others on their ill-luck in having to remain in the hell of Berlin and the madhouse that the bunker had become.

  For all the senior officers the following day proved one of the worst they had ever experienced. News came in that the American spearheads had reached the Elbe the previous evening and that the Russians had secured bridgeheads over the Oder. The German front there had broken and the Bolsheviks were crossing the river in many thousands.

  At the midday conference Hitler demanded that heads should roll, and that the troops be called upon to die fighting where they stood. From beyond the partition there came an unceasing flow of curses, denunciations, reproaches and abuse. Hours later the Generals who had been present trooped out, white-faced and weary. Old Koller had had such a lashing because of the failure of the Luftwaffe to prevent the Russians gaining a foothold on the west bank of the Oder that he was again in tears.

  All through the afternoon and evening Gregory hovered about the outer regions of the bunker waiting for the news to come in from the United States; but midnight came, the 12th April was over and there had been no announcement of the President’s death. About two o’clock, by then extremely worried, he went back to the Air Ministry, but only to spend an anxious, restless night.

  In the morning he went to the Ministry of Propaganda to see Goebbels’ assistant, Heinz Lorenz, and ask if there was any news of special interest; but, apart from reports of fresh disasters on the Oder front, there was nothing. Returning to the Air Ministry he tackled Malacou, who could tell him only that Roosevelt’s horoscope had shown him to be in great danger at this period, and that he would actually leave his present body on the 12th had been conveyed by the familiar spirits who, in all other matters, had proved correct.

  There now seemed little doubt that on this occasion they had misinformed Malacou, and as Gregory walked over to the Chancellery he dreaded the reception he expected to receive. It was not so much that Hitler would pour out his vials of wrath upon him that he feared, but that all his careful planning would be brought to naught by the failure of this one prophecy to mature, and that having won the Führer’s confidence by great art and skill he would now find himself completely discredited.

  Down in the passage sitting room Bormann was talking to Keitel and Burgdorf before they went in to the midday conference. On seeing Gregory he said with a sneer, ‘How is the President’s health this morning, Herr Major? It seems that you and your Turk have been made fine fools of by the spirits. I’m not surprised, though. You have lasted longer than most of the occult gentry we’ve had here and done better even than the Reichsführer’s man, Wulf; but you all come a cropper in the end.’

  ‘That is not certain yet, Herr Parteiführer,’ Gregory replied stoutly. ‘It is quite possible that the Americans are holding up the news for reasons of their own.’

  They had better be,’ snapped Bormann, ‘or the Führer will have your head off for having misled him.’

  When they had gone in to the conference Gregory went through to the mess passage, to get himself a badly needed drink. He remained there for some time, talking with some of the other adjutants. He then returned to the sitting passage. Just inside the doorway two men were standing. One was von Below. The other, a shortish man with very broad shoulders and rolls of fat showing above the collar of his black S.S. uniform, had his back to Gregory.

  With a smile, von Below said, ‘Oh, Protze, I don’t think you’ve met our new colleague. The Reichsführer has sent him to replace Fegelein. This is …’ The rest of the introduction Gregory did not even hear. The other man had turned towards him and he found himself staring into the solitary eye of Obergruppenführer Grauber.

  26

  Out of the Blue

  For a moment neither man moved. On Grauber’s face there was a look of incredulity; on Gregory’s, before he could check it, one of consternation. It was just such a chance meeting with his old enemy that he had feared when Goering had first had the idea of sending him and Malacou to Führer H.Q.

  Since then he had become so immersed in the tremendous drama being played out in the bunker as the Nazi-controlled legions were being beaten to their knees, and in his growing influence over Hitler, that he had not given Grauber a thought.

  Now he cursed himself for having failed to realise that in the chaos that was swiftly destroying all organisation in the Reich such private Intelligence services as Goering’s would have broken down, and that men like Grauber would not remain to die fighting with a defeated Army but scurry back to the seats of Nazi power where, for the time being at least, their lives would be safe.

  Had Gregory not been caught off his guard and been able to greet Grauber with bland politeness he might, just possibly, have made the gorilla-like Obergruppenführer doubt the evidence of his eye. But Gregory’s jaw had dropped and his eyes had shown acute alarm. In that instant, despite the extreme improbability of a British agent’s having penetrated the Führer’s headquarters, Grauber identified him beyond all question. With a cat-like agility amazing in a man of his bulk, he jumped backwards and his hand slapped on to his pistol holster.

  But it was empty. He had momentarily forgotten that before entering the bunker he had had to leave his weapon in the outer guard room. Knowing that Grauber’s recognition of him spelt death, had Gregory been armed he too would have whipped out a gun, in the hope of shooting Grauber first then shooting his way out of the bunker. Being used to having to check in his pistol before coming downstairs, his reaction was entirely different but equally swift.

  Raising his eyebrows in surprise at Grauber’s backward spring, he glanced at von Below and said, ‘I’m sorry, Colonel, but I did not catch the Obergruppenführer’s name.’

  Grauber’s high-pitched voice came in a screech of mingled hate and triumph. ‘He knows it well enough! And I know his! He is the ace British Secret Agent, Gregory Sallust.’

  Von Below looked quickly from one to the other, then smiled and said, ‘My dear Herr Obergruppenführer. What you suggest is absurd. I …’

  ‘It is not absurd. It is a fact,’ snapped Grauber.

  Gregory managed to raise a smile and shook his head. ‘I had no idea that I resembled this apparently famous character so closely. But my name is Protze, and I am a member of the Reichsmarschall’s staff.’

  ‘Then you have tricked him,’ Grauber snarled. ‘As you have many other people by your perfect German. I know you for who you are and now, at last, I’ve got you.’

  ‘Really,’ protested von Below. ‘I’m sure you are mistaken. Major Protze has been with us since the beginning of March. He could not possibly be a British agent. All of us here——’

  ‘You fool!’ Grauber piped in his feminine falsetto. ‘I tell you I know him! I’ve known him for years. Ever since the beginning of the war. We’ve been up against one another half a dozen times and each time he’s slipped through my fingers. B
ut not now. Not now!’

  At that Gregory resorted to a show of anger and stormed back, ‘You are talking nonsense! The strain we are all under these days has addled your wits. I’ve never met you before in my life. I’m as much a German as you are. The Reichsmarschall will vouch for me.’

  ‘I’ll take my oath he can’t. At least for only during the latter stages of the war. He cannot have known you as an officer of the Luftwaffe in ’39 or ’40 or even in ’42.’

  The rank Grauber held made him the equivalent of a full General but, like most regular officers, von Below disliked and despised Himmler’s people; so he stood up for Gregory as an officer of his own service and said sharply, ‘Herr Obergruppenführer, this accusation you bring against Major Protze rests solely on your word. He has shown himself to be a loyal servant of the Führer, who has developed a high regard for him. Should you persist in this and be proved wrong you will have cause to——’

  Grauber’s pasty moonlike face had gone white with rage and he cut in, ‘How dare you threaten me in the execution of my duty! I insist that this man be arrested and taken to the Albrecht Strasse. Round there we’ve plenty of ways to make him admit his true identity.’

  Von Below drew himself up. ‘Your suggestion is outrageous. Under torture anyone will admit anything. To have an officer tortured simply because he resembles a British agent that you used to know is unthinkable. No-one can stop you from practising your barbarities on Jews and foreigners. But this is Führer Headquarters and the loyalty of every man in it is beyond question.’

  For a moment Gregory took heart at von Below’s stout defence of him. But Grauber shrilled, ‘That does not apply to this one. I order you to fetch the guard. Whether you like it or not, I intend to remove him.’

  ‘They will not obey you. They take their orders only from Herr Parteiführer Bormann.’

 

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