Forgive No More

by Seb Kirby

  “Yes, and that he was close to Rosicrucians because they claimed to have found it.”

  “But it still doesn’t explain why Arndt was so interested.”

  “James, you know we have had the feeling since we started that Arndt is guiding us even though he is no longer with us. I think he may be pointing us to look again at the mythology with which Lando and those before him surrounded themselves.”

  “You’ll need to explain.”

  Ferrara continued. “Let me take you back, James, to what I was telling you about my work, about those who cross the line from myth into madness. What if you were to allow yourself to enter into the mind of a man like Alfieri Lando, a man for whom the myths about Leda had become so real he may have come to believe that aspects of those stories conceal literal truth? Once you cross that line, you ask the question, why did Zeus disguise himself and seduce earthly women? As a swan with Leda. As a white bull with Europa. You might deduce that even for him, pleasure was everything. And that might lead you to another conclusion. What if when Zeus came to Earth to seduce those women some of his immortality was lost to mortals? And, if that is the case, it is only a short step to believing his immortality had been left behind in children, twins like Helen and Clytemnestra, and over time there must be descendants. Some mortal, some immortal, just as in the myth.”

  I was working hard to understand what he was saying. “But men like Lando were mad?”

  “Yes, but within their madness, ideas that are crazy to us could be believed as truths by them. Only them. What if, for them, it was just another short step to believing it was now a provable fact that the essence of immortality, the Elixir of Life that men like Newton and so many craved, had been distributed throughout this select number of mortals on the Earth. As a result of the past folly of Zeus and the accidents of their birth, certain twins had come into possession of some part of the immortality that was in the first place all his own. And, of course, if you were a true adherent, you might find it easy to take a further step along the way to madness – to come to believe that if you could find such mortal-immortals by some means, you might become like Zeus.”

  “And have your own chance of immortality. To somehow gain it from the women?”

  “I am afraid it could be so. It would be knowledge worth any amount of effort to keep hidden; something to conceal in a secret society.”

  I had to interrupt the flow of his argument. “I’m sensing what you’re telling me is more than speculation.”

  He nodded. “You are right. I think it is the terrible truth that Arndt has been pointing us towards all along.”

  “But we still don’t have hard evidence. This is all still what if.”

  He pointed to the empty pile of unread papers before him. “And I have arrived at the end of Arndt Schreiber’s evidence.”

  I gestured towards my pile of papers. “Me, too.”

  Gina agreed. “And me. All I have left is this. Doesn’t look like it’s going anywhere.”

  She handed over her last bundle of papers. Ferrara speed-read them. “It is Arndt’s work on trying to trace further back into the history of the Lando family. He has the genealogy, pieced together from Church records. It must have taken months. He traces the Lando line back to before 1400. But there is nothing more substantial here other than what we know; the Lando family has been in a position of power for centuries.”

  I was disappointed. “So we still don’t have a convincing lead on where to go next.”

  Ferrara was trying not to be downbeat. “We have discovered much. What we seek will come, I am sure of it.”

  We sat for some time, staring at the upturned piles of paper, trying not to admit we had exhausted everything that Schreiber had researched.

  It was Gina who broke the deadlock. “Arndt knew about the importance of twins and the importance of Florence. It’s where I first met him, on the streets of Oltrarno, seeking out the women there who were twins. He must have discovered more. Are we sure we’ve looked at everything?”

  Ferrara checked the documents. “I am sure I printed them all.”

  He looked again at the hundreds of icons on the laptop screen. “Except. We have not considered the audio files.”

  Chapter 73

  Instinct had told Bill Maynard not to delay, to head straight for Washington.

  It had been too long since he’d been here. It made him realize how much he was losing influence while in Europe running the London office.

  There had never been any question before about who to call. But every year key personnel moved on. As he searched his list of contacts, he found it difficult to choose, now that he needed someone with influence to get things done.

  The name that caught his eye was Vincent Carnegie. They’d been recruited by the Agency at the same time, trained together, but never got on. Something between them didn’t click. There was no real reason for it, unless Carnegie disliked Maynard for being so up front. Now Carnegie was Deputy Director of Surveillance. Authority enough for what was needed.

  The sample of explosive from Mexico had been delivered at San Diego by Debbie Miller as arranged and fast couriered to Quantico Virginia, where the tests were positive beyond any doubt. The explosive used at Town Lake was a one hundred per cent match for the material supplied from Tijuana. The results, delivered to him on arrival in Washington, had shocked Maynard.

  Craven had questions to answer and Maynard was the man to ask them.

  The appointment with Carnegie came sooner than expected. The man seemed pleased to meet an old colleague. “It’s been too long, Bill. How’s London treating you? I’m hearing you’ve lost none of your get at ’em approach.”

  Maynard was surprised by how time had mellowed their relationship and how well Carnegie had come to terms with Maynard’s take on life. “You’ve done so well, Vincent. I wasn’t sure you’d be able to see me.”

  “Anything for an old friend. What can I do?”

  When Carnegie was told about the Quantico tests, he was surprised. “You sure, Bill? That’s one hell of an accusation. Nate Craven has just been given the Star. You know he’s something of a hero round here. Some say he’s the future of the Agency.”

  “It’s more than an accusation, Vincent. The tests prove Craven deceived the Agency over Town Lake. The attack couldn’t have been the work of East Africa terrorists. And that means he’s had the Agency looking in the wrong place for the perpetrators.”

  “Craven has a motive?”

  “To prevent knowledge coming to light of the kick backs he’s receiving from the drugs trade out of Tijuana.”

  Carnegie was shocked. “You can prove this?”

  “Agent Miller has been investigating this. She has the proof.”

  “So, what are you asking for, Bill?”

  “Authorization to investigate Craven.”

  “I’m not sure I can agree without hearing what Craven has to say.”

  “There’s no time. I’m sure Miller is in danger.”

  “From Craven? Isn’t she in his team?”

  “That’s just it. He’s in a position to know she’s on to him. I’m sure you can understand my concern, Vincent. Given her evidence, he has reason enough to harm her.”

  “You’re saying she may be in imminent danger?”

  “I believe that’s the case. So, let’s be precautionary. Let me investigate, internally. Sort this thing out once and for all.”

  “What do you need?”

  “Half a dozen men, armed, from outside of Craven’s team.”

  “I can do that. What else?”

  “Authorization to go as far as is needed.”

  “You have that also.” Carnegie paused. “Listen, Bill, I’m trusting you with this. Don’t make me regret it.”

  Chapter 74

  Dillon Ashley was delivering. That pleased Nate Craven. More important was the fact that Craven had chosen well. Ashley could expect rapid advancement in the Craven team.

  So, Debbie Miller had been c
onvinced to come back to Washington.

  Ashley was almost apologetic when he’d called. “I had to use some force, Nate. Enough to make her see sense.”

  “Regrettable I know, Dillon, but you’re doing your duty. It’s going to be better for her and for the security of us all now she’s coming back to set the record straight, if you get me. Great job.”

  Craven gave a smile as soon as the call ended.

  Ashley must have roughed her up more than he cared to admit.

  Chapter 75

  We gathered round Ferrara’s laptop as he played the first of the audio files taken from Arndt Schreiber’s computer.

  Ferrara explained, “Arndt’s embedded notes tell us that each file is a recording of a phone call with a witness, as he describes them. He does not say if the other person knows the recording is being made, but perhaps that should not concern us too much. The first recording is a call from eight months ago with a school friend of Arndt’s brother, Max, here in Munich.”

  He started the playback. The school friend was called Dieter.

  “Herr Schreiber?”

  It was the voice of a frightened young man. Arndt Schreiber could be heard encouraging him to be calm and accept Schreiber’s word that whatever was said would go no further.

  “Dieter, I want to bring you to the reason why I am calling.”

  “It is about how Max died?”

  “Yes. I know it was a shock to you but time has passed and I am asking for your help.”

  “l can only tell you this, Herr Schreiber; l am glad l did not follow Max in joining them. It was something I was close to doing.”

  Schreiber’s voice was calming. “And why was that, Dieter?”

  “Because of the change I saw in him. In a few months he lost all the good nature and humor we liked in him so much. He became a different person.”

  “And who are they? Were they active in searching for recruits at your school?”

  “Yes. It began with extra tuition in German history through the after-school club. Then we were invited to a meeting in town, outside of school. Max joined. I spoke to my parents. They forbade me to have anything to do with the Ancestral Heritage Society. They told me they were fascists.”

  Ferrara paused the playback. “The Ancestral Heritage Society. Sounds like a throwback to the Ahnenerbe Group set up by Himmler within the SS to investigate the occult madness that fuelled so much of the Nazi atrocities. It is of concern in itself that anything like this could still exist in modern Germany. As far as the outside world is concerned such organizations were closed down and banned after the War. Yet here they are again, signing up naive schoolchildren to poisonous beliefs.”

  Ferrara recalled the section of notes assembled by Schreiber on the Ahnenerbe. “Arndt spent a great deal of time seeking to understand just what kind of society his brother had become involved with. So the Ahnenerbe has relevance after all. But perhaps it has more relevance for Arndt than for us. We have to show tough love here. What happened to Arndt’s brother Max was the tragedy that drove Arndt Schreiber. What is driving us is the need to uncover what lies behind the madness of the Landos, to rescue Gina’s sister and end the threat posed to your wife and family, James. It would be a great mistake to give equal weight to both.”

  I was satisfied we should depend on the clear thinking of the professor, on his ability to retain focus on what was relevant to our discovering the truth behind the Lando menace and take his advice to not get diverted by the background noise within which they had hidden themselves. “It’s a tough conclusion to come to, Nico, and one that may be necessary. But where does it take us? What do we have so far to use against the Landos?”

  Ferrara, like all of us, was looking tired. “Yes, James. There has to be more.”

  There was little to be learned as we ran through the remainder of the playback. The young man no doubt felt he had risked enough in what had been already said.

  “We may return to this one later. Here is the second file. Arndt’s note tells us it is the recording of a phone call made with Herman Schmidt, now a Lutheran pastor but, during the War, a member of the SS.”

  Gina was curious about the man’s age. “Must be well into his nineties.”

  Ferrara agreed and began playing the recording.

  Schreiber’s voice came first.

  “Dr. Schmidt, thank you for agreeing to speak to me. I know it must be difficult to return to those days but, as you know, I am grateful for your help in finding the truth of what happened to my brother.”

  It was the voice of an old man but with the assurance of one who had no regrets about his past. “I am here to help, Herr Schreiber. But I am puzzled why you would want to return to those dark days for Germany.”

  “Let me say, Dr. Schmidt, l take no pleasure in returning to events long forgotten and best kept that way. But my investigations show this is where I need to go in order to find truth.”

  “So long as you place light over darkness, truth above deceit, I am prepared to assist in whatever way I can.”

  “I give you my word.”

  “What is it you need?”

  There was the sound of paper rustling as Schreiber referred to his written notes. “You served in the Waffen SS, with Obersturmbannfuhrer Benito Lando.”

  The old man’s voice hardened. “Where did you get that information?”

  “You deny it?”

  There was a long pause. Schmidt’s voice became quiet, close to inaudible. “I have refused to deny it all my life. And I have made a new honorable life for myself. If you are a true friend of Germany you would not want to expose me now and ruin all I have achieved, the reputation I have in my closing years for being an honorable and caring man.”

  Schreiber was quick to respond. “No. This is not why I am calling. I need the answer to specific questions. About matters of fact. I trust you will tell me. Then I promise to preserve your anonymity.”

  “Is this not a threat? If I don’t answer your questions you will expose me?”

  “No, it is nothing like that. When you hear my questions, you will realize that nothing you tell me will jeopardize what you have now.”

  “Though you do not leave me much choice, I agree I must trust you. What is it you want?”

  “I have an accession list of paintings, great works of art, acquired for Himmler and taken to Wewelsburg Castle.”

  The old man sighed. “So, it is about the art?” There was relief in his voice.

  “That is all I am interested in.”

  “And this will help you find out what happened to your brother?”

  “I believe it will. Tell me about Wewelsburg.”

  “How do you know about that?”

  “I do not believe the paintings on the list ever went to Berlin, as was ordered. Neither do I believe they were destroyed there by the British and the Americans.”

  “We captured many items on Himmler’s orders. You will need to be more specific.”

  Schreiber began reading from the list. “Mantegna, St James Led To His Execution, Fra Angelica, Last Judgment, Botticelli, Portrait of Cosimo De’ Medici, Ghirlandaio, Jerome and John the Baptist, Fra Bartolommeo, Assumption of the Virgin…”

  Dr. Schmidt interrupted. “I understand. You know about the paintings.”

  “I can give you the SS accession numbers.”

  “There is no need. I believe what you are saying.”

  “What happened to the art?”

  Schmidt cleared his throat. “You are right. The paintings you mention and many more were taken to Wewelsburg Castle. They were about to be shipped to Berlin under the Fuhrer’s orders. But Himmler knew the end was near. He knew the British were within a few hundred miles. He instructed Obersturmbannfuhrer Lando to take them instead to Italy. To find a safe hiding place for them there.”

  “Do you know where in Italy?”

  “Lando suggested Florence. He told Himmler he knew places where they could be concealed and he would keep them there until the Re
ich established victory. Himmler agreed.”

  “Do you know where in Florence the paintings were taken?”

  “I am sorry. This is all I know. I saw the paintings being crated and loaded ready to be sent. But I was not instructed to accompany Lando to Florence. I do not know where he took them.”

  “You saw them leave?”

  “I did.”

  The conversation between the two men continued but offered nothing more than closing remarks, Schmidt still concerned his involvement would not be revealed, Arndt Schreiber checking to make sure the pastor knew nothing more of value and reassuring the man his past would remain secret.

  Schreiber was about to sign off when he asked one more question. “I almost forgot, Dr. Schmidt. Why was Himmler content for Lando to take the paintings to Florence?”

  “Himmler knew the War was lost by then. He would not admit it to his men but we knew that was the reality. His mind had turned to the future. The distant future. A way to ensure that what he believed in might endure.”

  “Lando promised to feed money from the sale of the paintings back into Germany after the War?”

  “That is right. He agreed to pay the money into a holding company charged with keeping the ideology going, albeit now as a secret organization.”

  “You know the name of the organization?”

  “I do not. It was some sort of umbrella to fund new far right societies in a new Germany. That is all I know.”

  Ferrara stopped the playback. “We now know one of the reasons Arndt was drawn to Florence. And we know how the theft of the paintings could have played a part in funding the kind of organization that Max was drawn into, membership of which led to his death.”

  Gina cut in. “It would explain Arndt’s interest in Florence. If he could expose what was happening there, if he could discover the source of funding for the far right in Germany, it would in the end lead back to Ancestral Heritage Society in Munich and those who killed his brother.”

  Ferrara agreed. “Indeed. The more so since Arndt was an intelligent man who knew about art. He knew about mythology. Enough, anyway, to know the significance of paintings like Leda and the Swan.”