THE MAYA CODEX

by Adrian D'hagé

  ‘Heil Hitler, Herr Reichsführer. Wilkommen zum Mauthausen.’

  A hundred metres away, in the middle of the quarry, Ramona, Ariel and Rebekkah struggled to lift a large rock into one of the hoppers. Levi moved to help them and he winced in pain as an SS guard hit him with his rifle butt.

  ‘Try to pick smaller ones, meine Lieblings,’ Levi whispered. He turned and felt a cold shiver run down his spine as Reichsführer Himmler, accompanied by Obersturmbannführer von Heißen, appeared at the railing of the nearest watchtower. Suddenly a squad of SS guards doubled towards the quarry, rifles at the carry. At the far end of the quarry a line of marching prisoners, all in black-and-grey striped garb, were suddenly halted and ordered to turn to face the cliff.

  A rifle shot echoed around the quarry, and the prisoner on the far left of the line crumpled to the ground, her face blown away by a bullet to the back of the head. Ramona fainted and Ariel and Rebekkah started to cry, cowering behind the hopper. For the next hour and a half the quarry reverberated to the crackle of rifle fire as every two minutes a Jew was shot in the back of the head in honour of the Führer’s birthday.

  Von Heißen watched Himmler’s car disappear through Mauthausen’s main gate before turning to walk back towards the quarry. It had been a very successful day. The Führer’s birthday celebrations had gone very well, and Himmler had personally congratulated von Heißen on the efficiency of the camp. It was, Himmler said, the main reason Mauthausen had been chosen for Doctor Richtoff’s top-secret medical experiments. The Reichsführer had even intimated that all going well, another promotion was in the offing. Standartenführer! Von Heißen could almost see the oak leaves on his collar. He felt a surge of pride and whacked his boots with his cane as he walked along the path leading to the top of the quarry cliff. He looked back towards the gates of the prisoner compound where, as per his instructions, the Weizman woman and her offspring had been chained to one of the stone towers. Good, he mused, feeling a rising sense of satisfaction. From there they, too, would be able to see the quarry.

  Schmidt shoved Levi over the rough ground towards the steps. ‘There are 186 steps, Jew, and you’re going to climb every one of them.’

  Levi glanced back to where Ramona and the children were chained to the stone tower. Ramona’s eyes were full of fear.

  ‘Pick up that rock!’ Schmidt shouted when they reached the narrow stone staircase leading up to a high granite outcrop overlooking the quarry. ‘On your shoulders, Jew man!’ Schmidt’s jowls were crimson now and a strong stench of garlic assailed Levi. He heaved the heavy rock onto his right shoulder.

  ‘Jetzt lauf! Now run!’

  Ramona, her hands chained to an iron ring in the wall behind her head, watched in horror as Levi struggled to climb the staircase, a massive rock teetering on his shoulder.

  Schmidt turned to two young guards. ‘You know what to do. Follow him!’

  The taller of the two guards bounded up the stairs and yelled in Levi’s ear. ‘Come on, Jew, you’re not even halfway yet!’

  Levi’s knees buckled under the weight of the granite boulder. He staggered and fell to the ground, and the other guard smashed a rifle against his ribcage.

  ‘Get up, Jewish pig! I don’t want to be here all fucking night!’ Levi levered himself to his feet and hoisted the boulder back onto his shoulders, closing his mind to the searing pain in his ribs.

  ‘What are they doing to Papa, Mama?’ Rebekkah sobbed, her hands chained high above her head.

  Levi rasped for breath and glanced ahead of him, not daring to stop. Ten steps to go. Nearing exhaustion, he staggered over the very last step and let the boulder fall at his feet.

  ‘Who gave you permission to drop the rock?’ The taller guard swung his rifle butt into the small of Levi’s back. Levi fell face-first onto the rocks, breaking his nose and two of his teeth. ‘Get up!’

  Levi got to one knee, coughing blood and fragments of teeth.

  One of the guards looked at his watch. ‘We’re losing fucking drinking time up here, Günther!’

  ‘Ja. Get up, you Jewish shit!’ Günther snarled, kicking Levi in the stomach. Levi stumbled forward onto a large flat rock that overlooked the quarry. A hundred metres below a jagged outcrop of granite extended from the cliff base to where the prisoners, their ribcages clearly visible, were quarrying stone with picks and shovels. Levi looked up to the left and a chill ran through him. The unmistakeable figure of von Heißen was silhouetted against the fading light.

  Levi shuffled back, but he was shoved violently from behind.

  Ramona watched in horror as Levi tumbled over the cliff, his arms flailing wildly. His scream pierced her very soul as he bounced off a rock halfway down, before smashing into the jagged granite at the base of the cliff.

  ‘That’s what happens when you criticise the Reich!’ Schmidt shouted at the prisoners in the quarry. ‘Now get back to work or you’ll be next!’

  Von Heißen’s batman and the chief steward, the latter holding a large crystal glass of Glenfiddich on a silver tray, were standing at the ready, just inside the heavy cedar doors of the officers’ mess. Flags of the Third Reich and the SS were mounted on one of the stone walls, and the bar had been decorated with a large gold eagle.

  ‘Meine Herren. Der Kommandant!’ Hauptsturmführer Brandt sprang out of his chair to announce von Heißen’s arrival, and the other officers followed suit. Von Heißen handed his cane and cap to his batman and relieved the steward of the crystal tumbler.

  ‘Hans, come and join us,’ von Heißen commanded his adjutant, waving his hand towards an empty leather lounge chair beside Doctor Richtoff’s. ‘Ein Bier?’

  ‘Danke schön, Herr Kommandant.’

  Von Heißen looked towards the bar and snapped his fingers.

  ‘So, Eduard, everything is in order?’ von Heißen asked, turning towards Richtoff.

  Richtoff nodded. The SS doctor’s skin was milky white. His spiky grey hair was cut short above his high, square forehead, and pale-green eyes peered from beneath bushy black brows. ‘It appears to be, Karl. The equipment is being tested as we speak. We should be able to start our experiments tomorrow.’

  ‘What is it that you’re testing for, Herr Doktor?’ Hans asked.

  ‘The SS is to set the standards for the new Reich, Hauptsturmführer. The Mauthausen experiments are aimed at producing a new German elite – a human embryo that combines leader, scholar, warrior and administrator all in one. You will forgive me, gentlemen, but you are not perfect.’

  ‘But a good start, Doktor,’ von Heißen responded, signalling the steward to refill his glass.

  ‘The experiments are also designed to provide data that may help with the conditioning of our troops for possible service on the Eastern Front.’

  ‘How will you achieve that?’ Brandt asked, keen to know how the German race might be perfected.

  ‘Your Kommandant has kindly undertaken to provide me with fit specimens, both male and female. In the first experiment we’ll strip them naked and put them in ice vats to discover how long it takes them to die. Of course, during the winter it will be easier,’ Richtoff added, coughing, ‘because we can just leave them naked in an outdoor cage to see how long they last. In the second experiment we’ll lower the temperature to a point where most of them die, and from the remainder, we’ll see which ones can be resuscitated. We’ve already done some testing in Auschwitz, where we forced iced water into their intestines … but all of them died. Unfortunately that method doesn’t seem to have much promise.’ Richtoff reached for his beer.

  ‘And the pressure tank? What’s that for?’ Brandt asked.

  ‘Low-pressure simulation of an oxygen-thin environment,’ Richtoff replied. ‘Your Kommandant, being a qualified high-altitude diver, knows quite a bit about this.’

  ‘It’s been a while now,’ von Heißen replied.

  ‘We’ve also tested this at Auschwitz,’ Richtoff continued, ‘but in Mauthausen we’re planning to use women as well as men. The hu
man body functions best at sea level, where the bloodstream is saturated with oxygen, but at altitudes above 15 000 feet, the oxygen levels are halved and the body needs to acclimatise. At Auschwitz we found that most subjects died once the altitude simulation reached 23 000 feet. At that height it’s difficult to sleep and the digestion system breaks down. But one lasted past 25 000 feet and we’ve kept his organs for further analysis.’

  ‘How many specimens do you need, Herr Doktor?’ Brandt asked.

  ‘Forty will do to start with. Twenty men and twenty women, but they must be fit.’

  ‘Include the Weizman woman in the first batch, Hans – and make sure those brats of hers are forced to watch. Perhaps next time the boy will not be so keen to hide things from the Reich. In the meantime, in honour of your arrival, Eduard, I’ve ordered some very nice wine for dinner.’

  Night descended on the quarry, and a team of soldiers finished removing gold fillings from the bodies at the base of the cliff. A large bulldozer, smoke pouring from the exhaust flap, manoeuvred into position and began shovelling the corpses towards a refuse pit. Back behind the forbidding stone walls of the prisoner compound, the inmates were standing in the cold between the barrack blocks, waiting for roll call. Ramona did her best to comfort Ariel and Rebekkah, her spirit unbroken but her heart torn apart, aching for the man she’d loved with every fibre of her being.

  ‘Tomorrow, you’ll both be transferred to work in the laundry, Lieblings,’ Ramona whispered. ‘If someone offers to help you, you’re to do exactly as they tell you, all right?’

  ‘But what about you, Mama?’ Ariel asked. His face was white, his whole world shattered. Rebekkah looked up at her mother, struggling to understand what had happened.

  ‘Mama will be fine … you look after your little sister,’ Ramona said to Ariel, adjusting Rebekkah’s blonde locks. ‘Promise me.’

  ‘I promise,’ Ariel whispered, gripping his mother’s hand more tightly.

  17

  MAUTHAUSEN

  Ariel went to Rebekkah’s aid. The laundry bag was nearly as big as she was, and Rebekkah was battling to load it into the back of a battered blue van that made the daily run, carrying the SS officers’ laundry into the little town of Mauthausen. Ariel and Rebekkah turned to go back for the last of the bags, but the driver, a young woman with pale-blue eyes, beckoned to them from the side of the van that was hidden from the watchtowers.

  ‘Listen carefully,’ she whispered. ‘My name is Katrina and you must do exactly as I say. There’s a space in the back of the van near the cabin, and when the truck is full you must climb over the bags and pull them on top of you. I will lock the doors behind you.’ Katrina glanced calmly to the left and right to make sure they were not being observed. ‘Quickly now, get the last two bags.’

  ‘But what about Mama?’ Rebekkah pleaded with Ariel.

  ‘Mama said we have to do exactly what the lady says,’ Ariel said reassuringly, displaying a maturity beyond his years.

  ‘Was ist los?’ The Nazi guard’s piggy eyes narrowed as he walked out of the laundry shed.

  ‘Beeilen Sie sich! Hurry up, you lazy scum! I haven’t got all day.’ Katrina shoved Ariel and Rebekkah past the guard towards the doors of the loading dock. ‘They’re so lazy, those two,’ she said, shaking her head at the guard and getting into the driver’s seat.

  ‘What do you expect? They’re Jews!’ The guard turned to follow Ariel and Rebekkah.

  Katrina switched on the ignition. The engine turned rapidly, but didn’t fire. Katrina tried again and then a third time, but the engine still refused to start. The guard, Katrina noted, was coming back.

  ‘Scheisse!’ Katrina swore. She lifted the van’s stubby bonnet and retrieved from her pocket a rotor coated in green powder.

  ‘It’s the rotor,’ Katrina said, looking at it in disgust. ‘Do you have any sandpaper in your workshop?’ she asked, slipping the guard a packet of Sleipner cigarettes.

  ‘Jawohl!’ the guard replied, smiling snidely at Katrina. ‘Come with me.’

  Katrina let the guard walk in front of her and turned back to Ariel and Rebekkah, giving a quick jerk of her head towards the back of the van.

  Ariel grabbed a corner of his sister’s bag and dragged it along with his own. He helped Rebekkah onto the tailgate, climbed in after her and closed the van doors quietly.

  ‘Quickly,’ he whispered, glancing through the van window. He could see Katrina walking alongside the guard, scrubbing something with a piece of paper. ‘They’re coming back!’ They climbed over the piles of laundry bags, sat against the back of the cabin, and covered themselves with the bags in front. Rebekkah was breathing hard and Ariel reached for her hand and squeezed it.

  ‘There’s always something,’ Katrina complained, snapping the plastic cover back onto the distributor and slamming the bonnet. ‘Vielen Dank.’

  ‘Bitte. Any time. Perhaps you would like a drink after work?’

  ‘We’ll see.’ Katrina let out the clutch and eased the van towards the heavy wooden doors and granite towers that marked Mauthausen’s entrance. The fat guard gave a wave and headed off towards the toilet block for a smoke. Katrina drove slowly, expecting the guards to open the gates, but the thin, spindly man on duty climbed down from the watchtower and signalled for her to stop.

  ‘Was ist in der Lastwagen?’ he demanded.

  ‘Nur schmützige Wäsche. Just some dirty laundry,’ Katrina replied.

  ‘Öffnen Sie!’

  Katrina shrugged, got out and opened the back doors of the van.

  Ariel and Rebekkah instinctively pressed themselves against the metal back of the cabin. One by one the guard pulled the big blue bags out of the truck until there were only two rows remaining. Suddenly, the guard fixed his bayonet to his rifle and thrust it between two of the bags. Ariel and Rebekkah winced as the blade flashed between them and punctured the flimsy metal of the cabin.

  ‘Entschuldigung?’ Katrina inquired nonchalantly.

  ‘Was!’

  ‘I just thought I’d mention that Obersturmbannführer von Heißen’s uniforms are in those bags. Perhaps the kommandant will not be too pleased if he finds a bayonet tear in his tunics?’

  The SS guard grunted and got out of the truck. ‘Load them back in and get on your way!’ he ordered, turning on his heel and climbing back into the watchtower.

  Ariel squeezed Rebekkah’s hand again. With his other hand he checked to ensure the map he’d managed to keep from the Nazis was still in his pocket.

  Half an hour later, Katrina slowed the van to a stop on a side road in a forest. She opened the back doors and passed in a small bag.

  ‘There are some clothes in there. We’ll be in Vienna in another couple of hours, but I want you to get changed while we’re moving, because when you get out, you’ll be going straight on board a ship.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Ariel replied numbly. ‘Would you have a piece of paper and a pencil?’

  ‘Yes; just a moment.’

  ‘What do you want paper for?’ Rebekkah asked as the van regained the highway.

  ‘I tried to memorise those figures on the map the German took. Papa said they were important.’ A tear dropped onto the paper as Ariel reproduced the map as best he could, but he could only remember one of the three bearings. When he’d finished, he carefully put both maps into the bag Katrina had given them.

  A further two hours down the road Ariel looked through the window and recognised some of the buildings. ‘I think we’re near the docks,’ he whispered. Suddenly, they stopped and the van doors were opened. A late-afternoon mist had descended on Vienna, and a small group of soldiers were lounging on some wool bales, smoking and telling jokes. No one was paying any attention to the small, rusted coal freighter rubbing against the tyres on the pylons. A wisp of smoke curled from the Wilhelm Kohler’s single grimy funnel, mingling with the mist. The Danube, brown but powerful, eddied past the steamer’s rusted plates, while further out in midstream, a blackened barge loaded with timber
chugged determinedly towards an unknown destination upstream.

  ‘These are the last two,’ Katrina said to the deckhand from the Jewish Agency in Vienna. She turned to Ariel and Rebekkah. ‘Good luck, and may God go with you.’ With that, Katrina was gone.

  The deckhand ushered Ariel and Rebekkah up the narrow gangplank and below decks.

  The children’s escape from Mauthausen might have gone unnoticed until the evening roll call, but von Heißen was still furious over the missing figurine. Having ensured their father would never reveal the figurine’s whereabouts, von Heißen was determined both Ariel and Rebekkah would witness their mother’s demise, before they too were added to Doctor Richtoff’s list of specimens.

  The siren wailed ominously, warning the locals of a prison break.

  ‘We’ve searched the entire camp, Herr Kommandant. They were last seen loading the laundry van, but they’ve disappeared.’ Brandt was nervous.

  ‘The laundry company?’ von Heißen demanded.

  ‘Their normal driver was off sick, and both his replacement and the van have disappeared, but the guard on the tower insists that he searched the van, and that’s been corroborated by the other guards.’

  ‘The Jews are behind this,’ von Heißen seethed. ‘Bring the laundry manager in for questioning.’

  ‘Should I inform Vienna?’

  ‘No! I will handle that myself,’ von Heißen declared, determined there would be no blemish on his record. He would use his contacts in the Gestapo to seal off any escape route through Vienna or Istanbul.

  ‘Do you want to cancel the experiment with the Weizman Jewess?’ Brandt asked. ‘Doktor Richtoff is ready to start.’

  ‘Tell Doktor Richtoff to go ahead. I will be there shortly. We’ll make other arrangements for the two brats … very special arrangements.’

  ‘Jawohl, Herr Kommandant!’

  In less than two minutes, von Heißen was through to Adolf Eichmann in Vienna, providing him with the registration number of the van.