A Walk Among the Dead

by Fanning, Fred

  Police Sergeant Otto Brunner, the watch supervisor, arrived at the shooting scene. Officer Hammer from car 2-12 waved him down. The two took a short walk away from the lights and bystanders.

  “What is this all about?” asked the Sergeant.

  “Sergeant, the victim of this shooting, was Inspector Albrecht,” said Hammer.

  “My God,” said the Sergeant Brunner.

  The police officer handed the Sergeant the wallet. Sergeant Brunner gathered up the investigators on the scene at the back of his police van. He quickly verified that this was the home of the inspector and that the wallet was indeed his. Sergeant Brunner went swiftly to the house at Rehkitzsteig 11 to use the phone.

  “Hello, Chief Inspector Wagner.”

  “Sir, this is Sergeant Brunner. I hate to bother you at home, but I have some terrible news. There was a shooting tonight and the victim has been identified as Inspector Werner Albrecht.”

  “Outrageous. I will get our best team there immediately. Don’t do anything until I arrive.”

  “Got it, sir, see you soon.”

  Sergeant Brunner’s face went flush and he blankly stared at the phone as he hung it up. Uniform police were the only ones on the scene at this time, but he knew this would be a rough night. Sergeant Brunner walked around to each police officer and directed them to look busy, but not to touch or move anything. To the onlookers, it had to seem as if an official police investigation was going on.

  Chief Inspector Wagner’s next call was to the clinic administrator to explain the urgency and sensitive situation of Inspector Albrecht, who was now a patient there. The administrator agreed to do all he could for both the Inspector and his wife. The Chief Inspector’s second call was to Frau Ute Albrecht in the consulting room of the clinic.

  “This is Pastor Aden speaking, may I help you?”

  “Pastor, glad you answered, this is Chief Inspector Wagner. How is Frau Albrecht?”

  “Best as can be expected. The doctor gave her some calming medication and we are sitting here talking.”

  “May I speak to her?”

  “Certainly. I’ll put her on.”

  “Chief Inspector Wagner, it’s good of you to call me,” she said.

  “Ute, I am here if you or Werner need anything, just call.”

  “Thank you so much, the clinic staff has been very kind,” she replied.

  “I will go for now Ute, Pastor Aden will take care of you,” he concluded.

  “Good-bye, Chief Inspector.”

  The Chief Inspector arrived at the crime scene and called all the uniformed police to the rear of Sergeant Brunner’s van. “Ladies and Gentlemen, Inspector Albrecht has been shot and we must find the person or persons that committed this crime. Please do your best with a search of the surrounding area and please speak to everyone to get all the information here,” he directed.

  The uniformed police officers left to go back to search the area and to interview everyone in the neighborhood. The area was filled with single family houses and it was a lot harder to obtain interviews with the residents than with condominiums. The interviews and search were going well with Sergeant Brunner in charge. The police forensic van arrived and the team members focused on the actual scene where Inspector Albrecht was shot. A second team joined the search for the shooter’s location.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  BRRRING, BRRRING rang throughout the room at the Apartment-Hotel-Dahlem.

  “Hello, Johann here.”

  “Hello, Maggie Hoffmann. Do you have a few minutes? I have a couple of questions.”

  “I do Deputy Inspector,” Johann responded.

  “Please, call me Maggie, I’m not really a formal person. What do you know about Edward Bulwer-Lytton’s book The Power of the Coming Race?” Maggie asked.

  “I know that was my father’s favorite book, but nothing else,” said Johann.

  “The crime scene investigator found a copy in the drawer of your dad’s bedside table,” said Maggie. “Did your father ever speak to you about the book?”

  “He never said anything that I recall. I do remember him belonging to some kind of club to do with the book when I was young,” said Johann.

  “Have you ever heard of The Society for Truth?”

  “No, never heard of it,” said Johann. “What is it?”

  “It’d take too much time to explain over the phone, I’ll tell you in person. If I may change the subject, I was told that your father donated the family estate to the NAZI party before the start of the World War II, is this true?”

  “Yes that is true,” said Johann, “my family believed so firmly in the NAZI party that they gave all they had to it, even the family estate.”

  “I also need to verify that you and your mother are the only living members of the von Manntoell family to survive the war?”

  “Yes, with my father’s death that is true,” replied Johann. “I believe my mother and her sister are the only survivors of her family from the war.”

  “I am sorry for your loss. It appears your family paid a high price for the war.”

  “No apology necessary. My family knew what they were getting into or, at least, they thought they did.”

  “If I may be permitted to change the subject yet again if the murderers were looking for something in your parent’s flat, what do think it could have been?”

  “What are you saying; this may be more than robbery and murder?”

  “No, that’s not what I’m saying, this is just a question that naturally comes to mind when a crime scene has been ransacked.”

  “Sorry, I can’t think of anything that my parents owned that was worth any money,” said Johann. “My father seemed to pay the bills each month and kept us fed, but that was about it.”

  “That is enough for now, if you think of anything else about these questions, please let me know, goodbye for now.”

  “I certainly will.”

  After he had hung up the phone, Johann couldn’t help but think about the questions the Deputy Inspector had asked. He pulled some stationery and a pencil from the hotel desk and wrote down each.

  What do I know about Edward Bulwer-Lytton’s book The Power of the Coming Race?

  What did my father say about the book?

  Have I ever heard of The Society for Truth?

  Did my father donate the family estate to the NAZI party before the start of the war?

  Were my mom and I the only living members of the von Manntoell family to survive the war?

  If the murderers were looking for something in my parent’s flat, what do I think it could have been?

  Johann picked up the phone and dialed his aunt, Käthe. She was his only other relative aside from his mother and father. He liked her from his youth when she would take him to the park and for walks. She was younger than his mother and he thought of his aunt as an older sister.

  “Hello, Aunt Käthe, Johann here.”

  “Hello, Johann how are you doing?”

  “As well as can be expected. I have been answering questions from the inspector on father’s case and she has asked me some very strange things.”

  “Really, what kind of questions?”

  “Questions about father’s personal life.”

  “They may sound strange because of the circumstances, but I am sure the inspector knows what she is doing.”

  “Perhaps you’re right, maybe I just need some rest. I actually called about mother. How is she?”

  “She’s okay, I’ll call if anything happens. Until then, get some rest.”

  “Goodbye, Aunt Käthe.”

  As he sat there at the table, his thoughts wandered. Before long he fell asleep on the desk. He dreamt of the horrific events. It was as if he was actually there in the room when they murdered his father. The sights, sounds, and smells were so vivid. But the face, the face of the murderer was blank. Why would someone want to kill his father? He couldn’t think of any reason for this brutal act, but did any death make sense? He was awakene
d by a knock on the door.

  “Housekeeping,” she said sharply.

  “What…what, who’s there?” he asked.

  “Housekeeping making up the rooms,” she said.

  What time was it? He looked at his watch; it was 9:00 am. What had happened to the last twelve hours?

  “No service needed, thank you,” he answered.

  “You’re welcome,” replied the maid.

  He sat there in the chair trying to wake up completely. The last thing he remembered was speaking to his Aunt Käthe about the questions. Now, what would he do? It seemed that the next logical step would be to research Edward Bulwer-Lytton’s book The Power of the Coming Race and The Society for Truth. With the decision made he took a shower and headed downstairs.

  “Can you call me a taxi?” he asked the hotel clerk.

  “Your destination?”

  “American Memorial Library on Bucher Strasse.”

  He could hear the desk clerk speaking with the taxi company. “They will be here in a few minutes,” she said.

  “Thank you,” Johann said as he walked out the door.

  The taxi pulled up within a few minutes and Johann got in. Once at the library, Johann searched the card file in a musty back room until he found what he was looking for. He took the book from the shelf, found a comfortable chair. He spent the rest of the day reading the entire book. It was about humans adapting to living inside of the earth. The author built a story around a race of beings that moved inside the earth due to the flood of Noah. These people adapted and thrived, forming a civilization that rivaled that of the humans living above ground. He remembered from his college days that this novel had been used by psychics who pushed the story as truth, not fiction. He also remembered that this book was also believed to be the truth by Helena Blavatsky, William Scott-Elliott, and Rudolf Steiner. With a little more effort, he remembered something about these individuals making a connection between the characters in the book with a subterranean master race, which some believe led to Adolph Hitler’s master race. At the University, he recalled attending a lecture that spoke of the occult and a group called the Theosophists. He even recalled some thinking that the Vril Society formed around the book later became the Theosophical Society. “So that answers the first question,” Johann replied out loud.

  Johann then focused on the inspector’s second questions. What did my father say about the book? Johann simply could not remember his father ever speaking to him about it. The only source would have to be his mother and aunt.

  Johann took a taxi back to his hotel room. Once there, he called his Aunt Käthe. “Aunt Käthe do you remember father speaking about a book of Edward Bulwer-Lytton’s called The Power of the Coming Race?”

  “That was his favorite book.”

  “Did he ever speak to you about it?”

  “I don’t remember him talking about it, but he belonged to a club based on the book.”

  “That might be significant. Aunt Käthe, do you remember the name of the club?”

  “It was the Berlin Society of something, I can’t remember the last word.”

  “But, Johann, the club was closed during the war so it’s been gone for some time.”

  “Do you know where I could go to find the full name of the club?”

  “Johann I really don’t know. Maybe you should speak to your mother. Just a minute and I’ll put her on.”

  “Johann dear, how’re you doing?” Johann loved his mother dearly. He was her only child and she hovered over him constantly. He enjoyed the attention and especially her light kisses on his cheek.

  “Not bad mother, I am trying to get some information for the police who are investigating father’s death.”

  “I heard Käthe speaking to you about this. What can I do to help you?”

  “Mother, the police are trying to figure out why someone would break into your flat, did you or father have anything of value?’

  “Johann, I can’t think of anything anyone would break in to steal. We have a little jewelry, some money; Hans even had a small coin collection. I can’t think of anything that would have been valuable enough for someone to take.”

  “I am also trying to identify the name of a club father belonged to during the war. This would have had something to do with the book he kept in his bedside drawer. Aunt Käthe thought it was called the Berlin Society of something. She can’t remember the rest. Do you recall the last word?”

  “No, I really can’t say. It was something like philosophy.”

  “Mother, could it have been Theosophy?”

  “You know it could have been the Berlin Society of Theosophy. That sounds right.”

  “You and Aunt Käthe have been a big help, thank you both very much. I need to get back to these questions, I’ll call you later. Love you, bye.”

  “Look forward to your call dear.”

  As he hung up the phone, he couldn’t help but wonder about the connections he was making. He called a couple of his fellow lecturers to see if he could get additional information about the society. Neither had ever heard of it. He called Deputy Inspector Hoffmann and filled her in on what he had found.

  Within the hour, Freda received a transcript of the call between Maggie and Johann from Police Officer Hammer. Officer Hammer had most of the inspector’s phones bugged. When he heard this conversation, he knew Freda would be interested. She and Reinhardt took a few minutes to go over it.

  “It looks like they are making progress towards the truth,” said Freda.

  “They should hit a wall shortly,” chuckled Reinhardt. “It took the opening of the East German Police records last year for me to find this information.”

  Like a great deal of the World War II files, this information had been sealed for over 40 years in the East German Police records. Reinhardt was able to gain access to the archives and researched them deeply to find money making opportunities. Among several interesting options, he chose the missing Berlin Society of Theosophy money as the one with the most to gain. Apparently there were hundreds of millions of dollars unaccounted for.

  “Freda, let’s give them a little more rope,” declared Reinhardt.

  “I think that’s wise, we still have control of the situation.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Kurt and Günter drove to Helmstedt to the home of Käthe Woolwine. They arrived late in the evening and parked on a quiet street a few blocks from her home. It was about 3:00 am when the two men walked to the house. The house was two stories, painted white, with a clay tile roof. The yard was nicely manicured with evergreen trees and bushes. Kurt cut the phone lines while Günter pried open the fence to the back yard. Günter then jimmied the lock on the back door and in minutes they were both in the house. Once inside, Günter rounded up the two women, pushing and shoving them into a bedroom. Kurt began the search of the house while Günter began the interrogation.

  “We are looking for a large sum of money, where is it?” Günter asked. Neither woman answered. Günter repeated the question. Both women looked at each other but didn’t answer. Kurt arrived in the bedroom. “They won’t answer my question,” said Günter. Kurt struck both women in the face with a closed fist and both women fell onto the bed crying from the pain.

  “We don’t know what you are talking about,” cried Käthe. Kurt struck them both again. Both women cried out again.

  “Ask them again,” Kurt yelled.

  “We are looking for a great deal of money, where is it?” Günter asked.

  Through her sobbing, Käthe said, “We don’t know what you are talking about.”

  “We are here to find money that may be in the form of gold, silver, diamonds, and currency,” Kurt said. “I can’t be any clearer than that.”

  “We don’t have anything like that and can’t tell you what we don’t know,” cried Käthe.

  “Colonel von Manntoell had the money,” Kurt said.

  “Colonel, why would you call him Colonel?” Käthe asked. Günter began to wildly beat b
oth women. Kurt tried to stop him but wasn’t able to until both women were unconsciously lying on the bed with cuts and abrasions on their face and arms. Their bodies were limp and their breathing labored.

  “Dammit, why do you continue to act like an animal?” asked Kurt. “Now we can’t get any information from them.”

  “Search the second floor, while I go to the ground floor again,” barked Günter.

  Muffled sounds came from both levels as the men rummaged through the house. Cabinets were tipped over; drawers pulled out and thrown to the floor. Clothes were thrown from the closets onto the floor. As they searched, both men took any valuable items they came across but didn’t find anything that gave them any information about the treasure they sought. Both men met near the front door. Kurt then went to search the garage and Günter the basement. After a while, both men returned to the ground-floor hall without the information they sought.

  Both women were badly hurt from the severe beating and were left for dead. Kurt and Günter quietly left the home, breaking in the back door as they left. They were speechless on the walk back to the car. Once at the car, Kurt quickly drove to a safe house arranged for them. The safe house was a small flat near the autobahn, allowing them quick access after a few hours’ sleep. The flat was stocked with food and fresh clothing. Kurt showered while Günter fried up some potatoes and onions and boiled some sausage.

  Helga von Manntoell died of her wounds, but Käthe Woolwine, although severely injured, was able to call the police. Käthe was taken to St Marienberg Clinic in Helmstedt for treatment.

  Kurt and Günter called Reinhardt with the update. Freda and Reinhardt were furious that they failed again and killed people who may have had answers. Meanwhile, Kurt and Günter had gotten a few hours’ sleep and took advantage of a hot shower and dressed in clean clothes. Both men were refreshed and ready for the long drive home. They laid out a few types of meat and cheeses for breakfast. They had a hot pot of coffee ready and enjoyed a delicious meal. After a quick refueling stop and adding a couple of cold soft drinks, they left for the long drive back to Berlin. While on the trip Kurt couldn’t help but raise his concern over Freda.