Kthulhu Reich

by Ken Asamatsu

  Claus’s face grew grave. “Place a consecrated cross and a vial of holy water in the briefcase.”

  “Consecrated— You mean, you want a clergyman to actually bless it?”

  “Yes. Along with the vial of holy water from an actual church.”

  “What for?” A pinched smile was spreading over Admiral Canaris’s face.

  “For the exorcism. My own kind of exorcism.”

  “Hm. We’ll do it. I promise to return the briefcase to you with the consecrated cross and holy water in three days.”

  VII

  The briefcase arrived from General Oster addressed to Claus at Wehrmacht Headquarters on July 13th.

  Claus ignored the sidelong glances as he accepted it. But he did not contact the admiral or general to let them know he’d gotten it. The chance of interception was too high.

  Claus headed toward Lil’s apartment, briefcase in hand. He’d thought at first, If Gundi has gone so far over, I’m sure Lil has too. But then he convinced himself that the change he’d seen in Lil had been a product of his own temporary instability, and so headed on.

  He arrived at the room nearest the stairs on the third floor of her four-story apartment building, and knocked.

  There was no motor sound coming from the room next door.

  He knocked again and again.

  “Are you here to see Lil Hollander?” a sharp voice asked. Claus turned around to see a middle-aged man in a soft cap and trench coat. Claus immediately sensed he was Gestapo.

  “Oh, we’re just acquaintances,” Claus stammered. If they checked his briefcase, it was all over.

  “The resident of this room was arrested yesterday. Did you not know?” the man asked, stepping closer.

  “No, I had no idea.... On what charge?”

  He was suddenly taken by the thought that the secret police had gotten wind that she’d been replaced by “something.”

  “False representation. The woman’s a Jew but held public office working at the Technical University of Berlin. Fool.”

  “Lil? Jewish? You can’t be serious.”

  The Gestapo agent didn’t hear Claus muttering to himself but suddenly leveled a calculating gaze on him.

  “So, what exactly was your connection to the Jew bitch? You know, it’s like Secretary Himmler says: no matter how blonde the hair or blue the eyes, anyone whose heart has been poisoned by Judaism is a Jew, one and all! And you would do well to remember that it’s our job to identify them, arrest them, and send them to the camps where they belong!”

  “So, let’s say they looked human, but inside they were... different. Is the Gestapo prepared for that kind of thing as well?” Claus asked weakly.

  “Of course. We can always spot an Untermensch.”

  “You have no idea....” Claus whispered to himself, but the Gestapo agent caught something of it.

  “What?! What did you say?”

  “You fools have no idea what you’re doing. You can’t even tell the difference between crabs and people and homunculi!” Claus moved past the Gestapo man.

  “Wait, you bastard! What are you talking about?!” The man tried to stop him, but Claus only laughed. It was a hollow laugh and even he knew it. The Gestapo agent winced for a moment. Claus was painfully aware of what the agent must think of him.

  “You should look into Lil Hollander’s neighbor,” said Claus over his shoulder as he walked.

  “What for?”

  “You might get a glimpse of a real-life crab monster! They’re all over Berlin now, dressing up like people. Chasing them is a far better idea than hunting Jews.”

  “Have you lost your mind?”

  “No more than anyone else these days. Go on, hurry. Open the door, check inside. I’m leaving.”

  “Bastard.”

  The Gestapo man’s insults flooded over his back. Then Claus heard the sound of a door being rammed. He walked past the outside of the apartment building, an ironic smile on his mouth.

  He heard a door shatter and the man stomp into the apartment. There was a commotion in the background. Claus looked up at the third-floor window. The flower-patterned curtains were fluttering. A man’s hand gripped them and then blood splattered and stained the curtains. The man’s arm went sliding down.

  Someone shut the curtains again after the commotion had teased them open. It was neither an old man’s hand, nor a girl’s.

  It was a giant pink claw.

  “Fool couldn’t tell the difference between Jews and monsters.” Claus spat at the Gestapo’s blood stain.

  Claus stayed at his office from the 14th to the 17th. It had a bunk room and shower, and he could get all the clothing he needed from general supply.

  On July 18th he received the order “COME TO EAST PRUSSIA HQ.” It appeared the Führer himself wished to hear Claus’s opinions of the Atlantic Wall proposal and question him about it directly.

  Claus himself barely remembered what he did between then and the 20th.

  On the morning of July 20th, Claus headed toward Rastenburg, in East Prussia, his briefcase clutched to his chest.

  This briefcase I hold in my lap will change history, he thought the whole time he was on the train. His palms were slicked with sweat, as was his body beneath his uniform... and not from the heat.

  He called Admiral Canaris long-distance from the public phone in front of Rastenburg station. The line the operator connected him to sounded unbelievably distant. He was overcome with panic. It was like being chased by a monster in a nightmare, where no matter how fast you run your feet move in slow motion and your pounding heart is the only sound in your ears.

  Does this mean someone is tapping the line?

  Just as panic was overtaking him, he was connected to the admiral.

  “This is Canaris. Is that you, Oberst?”

  “Yes, sir. I’ve just arrived in Rastenburg. I’ll soon be departing for Wolfsschanze.”

  “Very good. General Oster will place a call for you at 12:40. When you leave to take it, place the briefcase on the table. We’ve got a plane ready to bring you back to Berlin. Head directly for the military airfield.”

  “Understood.”

  “Oh, and Oberst....”

  “Yes, sir?”

  “The reverend father overseeing East Berlin has said a prayer for your luck in battle. Apparently, July 20th is the Feast of St. Margaret of Antioch.”

  “Who?”

  “Do you not know her? She was swallowed by Satan in the guise of a dragon, but the devil’s belly could not hold her and split open, returning her unharmed. Margaret is a dragon-slayer saint, much like St. George.”

  “Please give the reverend my thanks.”

  “Oberst, may St. Margaret watch over you this day!”

  Claus bowed his head and hung up the phone.

  VIII

  When he reached headquarters, he found that the meeting had been transferred to a small briefing building outside the bunker.

  Claus shifted the briefcase in his sweat-drenched palms and wandered the hallways in a daze. He felt eyes watching from the corners of the unnaturally high ceilings.

  As he passed officers in the hallways, he overheard queer conversations.

  “Alhazred was done in by those... things from another world, the crab things.”

  “We have to obtain more materials from the Jews.... It’s like von Junzt said... the Führer has foreseen everything.”

  “Well even if you can’t tell by looking... the electromagnetic waves work.... Even Shub Niggurath was surprised by the results.... I’m telling you—”

  The fragmented conversations raked his ears like thorns. He couldn’t help but think of the terrifying photos and reports Rommel had shown him. He shuddered, and his mouth was dry and sticky with foul sputum. A cold sweat ran down his body.

  He kep
t walking, his face blank.

  Then, from behind, he heard a familiar voice say, “Oberst, you’ve been called to the conference room.”

  The sound made Claus jump a bit; then he turned around.

  He saw a smirking narrow face adorned with rimless glasses.

  “Major May!”

  “Yes, what a coincidence.”

  Claus’s cramped smile widened at this, and he gripped the briefcase tighter. The cold sweat kept running down his body. His gloves were soaked but he could not drop his briefcase. If he did, Claus himself would be dust long before the Führer and his Tibetan guru ever were.

  Saint Margaret, give me strength. Oh Lord, let me slay the dragon!

  Claus walked on, his steps naturally growing steadier as he readied himself for death.

  The meeting had been scheduled to have twenty-four members, including the Führer. Naturally, Guru Teppa Tsanpo would be there, too.

  When he heard the number, Claus thought, This plan will succeed.

  He truly believed it. He thought of what the Gypsy fortuneteller had told him when he was young, after she’d read his palm.

  “My boy, you have twenty-four luck lines. This is proof of how important you will be to German history. For, twenty-four is made up of two, which represents the duality of life and death; three, which is the morning, noon, and night, and four, the four elements. 2x3x4 is twenty-four. And twenty-four is the number of elders seated around the Throne of God in the book of Revelation, as well as the number of stars sacred to the Babylonians.—”

  And now this meeting had the same number of participants. What could this be but the hand of Fate?

  This briefcase holds enough explosive to blow half the building to pieces. Now, where do I put it?

  Claus glanced over at the SS officer walking beside him. Major May. The sight of the man’s profile made him think suddenly, I can use him! His mouth began running of its own accord.

  “There are some things I would like to discuss directly with the Führer regarding this battle plan. Could you perhaps ask him before the meeting begins? The Führer does have such a high opinion of you, after all—”

  Major May acknowledged the flattery with a quiet “No, no, I wouldn’t put it that way. But if you’ll wait here....” And with that, Claus was left by the conference room door to meet the Führer before he went in.

  It was 12:25. The Führer appeared from the other side of the hallway, talking with a number of his closest aides.

  Claus suddenly became very conscious of the briefcase still hanging from his left hand.

  “Sieg Heil!”

  Major May saluted the Führer. Hitler stopped at the voice. Claus copied May and stuck his right hand out straight in the Nazi salute.

  “And you are?” Hitler ran his gaze calmly over Major May and then Claus. Claus broke out in goosebumps.

  “Major Helmut May, with Strategic Planning Headquarters!”

  “I am also—” Before he could offer his name, Hitler looked up from Claus’s rank insignia and smiled. The expression did not reach his eyes.

  “That must mean you are the one in charge of drawing up the drafts for the Atlantic Wall proposal, Oberst.”

  “Yes, sir!”

  Claus’s voice broke.

  “Come. I want these fools from headquarters to hear what you have to say. They should hear just how important this base is going to be from a true expert.”

  Hitler patted Claus on the shoulder. A chill went through his whole body.

  “Major May, I’d like you to assist the Oberst. It’s going to take more than one person to convince that stone-headed Heusinger that our army is up to this challenge. Perhaps the heat of two experts working together can soften the old general’s hard head.”

  “Jawohl!”

  And so, Claus entered the conference room next to Hitler himself.

  “Sit here next to me, you two.”

  “By your leave, Führer.” Claus sat in the chair to the left of the Führer, as directed. Major May then sat to Claus’s left.

  “Very well. Gentlemen, today we’re going to be speaking about our defensive line in Northern France, and the state of the war in Europe for our glorious Third Reich.”

  Seated in the head chair, Hitler signaled for the meeting to begin. Claus held the briefcase in his lap as he listened.

  Where is Teppa Tsanpo? Why is the Tibetan not here?

  The fingers of his left hand, now resting on the table, began to move like they were playing the piano. The twenty-four seats were still not filled. And the yellow-robed guru was one of those still not present.

  He looked at the clock. It was 12:28. He had no more time to wait.

  If necessary, I will have to stay here and be blown up with the bomb.

  Resolving himself, Claus quietly opened the clasp under the table. He slipped his hand in, flipped the switch, then closed the briefcase again. His heart was pounding so hard he thought it might burst.

  “Oberst, if you would!” Hitler’s command hammered at Claus’s ears.

  “Of course, mein Führer,” said Claus, and stood up. He could feel Hitler and the generals and officers staring at him.

  “We at strategic planning are in agreement with the Führer’s view. According to our analysis, the Allies’ main attack will come this fall, most likely in early October. Before that happens, we feel it will be possible to fortify the coastline of Northern France.”

  “That means enhancing Fortress Europe by extending the Atlantic Wall!” Hitler slapped the table with one hand. “With six months, we could build a base that could break the teeth of the American and British dogs. Is that not so, Oberst?!”

  “It is,” said Claus, nodding.

  There was a quiet knock at the door on the other side of the room. An officer sitting nearby opened it.

  “What is it? We’re in the middle of a meeting!”

  “I apologize... From central command... emergency report... suspicious activity... Calais....”

  “Is it urgent, lieutenant colonel?” Hitler called out to the officer. He was in quite good humor now that this Oberst from the military affairs department had so strongly backed his plan to build the base.

  “Yes, there’s an emergency call from Berlin for the Oberst.”

  Hitler must have overheard the two whispering. The Führer turned toward Claus.

  “Go see what it is, Oberst. I believe that our views have just received some practical support. Perhaps divine intervention has arrived! Proof that we are driven by the inevitability of history!”

  “Thank you, Führer,” Claus said, and placed the briefcase next to Hitler below the table.

  Enough to take out half the building....

  The sound of a clock ticking could be faintly heard from it, but no one seemed to notice.

  It’ll go off around 12:50.

  Claus crossed the room and turned around. He made one final salute. “Sieg Heil! With your permission, I, Oberst Claus von Stauffenberg, take leave of this meeting.”

  Claus then pushed the door open and walked out into the hallway.

  This cannot fail. I’m an exorcist. The briefcase contains holy water. It has a consecrated cross. Today is the Feast of St. Margaret. There were twenty-four people scheduled to attend the meeting. I am going to change history.

  Claus hurried through the hallways toward the exit, silently convincing himself of the truth of this. He leaped into a Mercedes Benz parked outside.

  “To the airfield. It’s urgent: make all haste!” he commanded the corporal in the driver’s seat, and felt all the strength leave his body. He slumped down low in the back seat. He closed his eyes and the migraine came pounding from the back of his head.

  About a minute after the Mercedes had left, it met another black VIP car coming the other way. The license number ended in a
twenty, meaning it was one of the Führer’s official cars.

  Claus looked out his window at the back seat of the passing car.

  Sunlight streamed into the dark back seat, and he caught a glimpse of it glinting off a pure white cone and yellow robes.

  Guru Teppa Tsanpo.

  Is this delusion? Or do I truly have the eye of the exorcist, to see your true face?

  Claus focused on the car until it disappeared toward the bunker.

  When it was out of sight, Claus turned back and asked the driver, “So, do you like those Tibetan beans?”

  “Huh? I’m not sure. I don’t think I’ve ever eaten anything like that.”

  Claus smiled.

  “Is that so? Me neither. I’ve not had a taste of Tibetan beans, or ration lamb meat.” Claus paused a moment, then put a cigarette in his mouth. He lit it and inhaled, and spoke through the smoke. “Hurry up. Herr Rommel and... My Lord are waiting for me.”

  Epilogue

  Claus von Stauffenberg safely reached the airport at Berlin and reported Hitler’s death to military command there.

  His report was premature.

  Let us look back:

  12:45. Major May, losing patience waiting for Claus’s return, moved the briefcase to the other end of the table from Hitler, saying, “When he returns he can sit at the foot of the table.”

  12:49. Chief of the General Staff Adolf Heusinger stood, pointing at Hitler.

  At about the same time, the conference room door opened.

  Guru Teppa Tsanpo entered.

  The false Tibetan glanced at the briefcase sitting on the table at his spot and cried out, “Watch out, it’s a bomb!!”

  The Guru’s voice rang out over General Heusinger’s, who at that moment was saying, “I am telling you, and Rommel agrees with me, that the Allied invasion of Normandy in June of this year was—”

  At that moment, the briefcase exploded. In fraction of a second, the explosion turned the yellow-robed creature into a spatter of pink meat.

  Major May, who had leaped onto the briefcase at Tsanpo’s cry, was also blown in half.

  Four other officers were killed in the explosion. Hitler, however, was entirely unharmed, apart from a temporary case of hearing impairment.