A Portrait of Elga

2. Berlin

Steve had heard stories enough of the war from his father who was born a few years after the conflict ended. His grandfather had died fighting for the resistance, against the Nazis and then against the Russians. This had shaped his ideas about the German character and it was unsettling to see them confirmed in a strange way as he walked out of the gate into Templehof airport.

The place was beyond clean. Everything sparkled, not a candy wrapper, a patch of gum, a dried leaf, nothing. He wondered if he should check the bottom of his Nikes before stepping on to the highly polished marble floor. This definitely wasn’t BART.

Meier picked him up in a huge new Mercedes. The man was a surprise, a crew-cut German with a scarred face and the athletic physique of an old soldier. He was in his forties or fifties, it was hard to tell, but everything about the man oozed wealth. He wore a tailor made pinstriped business suit, a platinum Rolex President on his right wrist and large platinum signet ring with a deeply carved symbol on it that looked vaguely like a Swastika.

He shook hands with Steve and immediately noticed Steve’s eyes quickly scanning him from the suit to the ring. He smiled, “It’s a Sonnenrad, a black sun symbol – I am not a Nazi!”

Steve smiled, “Didn’t think that, it’s just unusual, that’s all.”

Meier looked nothing like a University Professor, in truth more like a Gestapo thug. Steve realized he was being judgmental. On the drive into town they discussed the job ahead.

“We’ll at greater length this evening, “said Meier, “I have arranged a dinner with some of my associates at the Four Seasons. Tomorrow you will be taken to the Four Seasons in Munich by private plane. There are private papers there I want you to see and review for me. After that you will need to look at Himmler’s witch files in Frankfurt.

“Then we’ll see where we go from there.”

“Herr Meier, forgive me for asking, but surely this is the kind of work you could assign to a graduate student surely? Several students in fact, and for a lot less money than you are paying me.”

Meier smiled easily, “Yes, this is correct, Mr. Leopold. There is one problem with this proposal of yours, secrecy. There is huge interest in the Reich even today. Any new research, new archives indeed such as I hope you will lead me to, would be of immense interest. I must have such information for my use only.”

“You mean, until you publish?”

Meier looked at Steve as Steve glanced at the speedometer. The Mercedes seemed almost motionless but the outskirts of Berlin seemed to be racing by at same speed his jet had landed at. The car slowed as it came to the end of Tempelhofer Damm.

“Publish? A book you say? Well of course. That would be the reason, Herr Leupold.”

Steve was still pondering the answer as the auto pulled in to the new Four Seasons Hotel on Charlottenstrasse. It was clear that he was not researching a book for an author. It was also clear, when he finally collapsed on the bed in his hotel suite, that his client’s wealth extended to him, and that he was being treated lavishly indeed for a lowly Internet geek.

The dinner seemed awkward. Meier did all the talking. Two other men, Dieter Schmidt and Carl Jaeger, seemed more interested in observing Steve as he responded to Meier.

Meier first wanted to know that status of Steve’s current research, “The basic stuff is out there for anyone to find", he told them.

“Goodrich-Clarke is probably the most scholarly source but even he is vague as to the people in the Order Templis Orientis that created the Thule Society. I have been looking at some of the early occultists at the turn of the century, but the data is thin that far back. I have found some obscure books, ‘Among the Adepts” by Hartmann and ‘Occult Significance of Blood’ by Steiner, but nothing there that leads me further back in OTO history.”

The men nodded their approval, “Yes, Herr Leopold, the origins of the OTO have been carefully hidden. You may find a few new facts in libraries here in Berlin and in the Federal Archives in Frankfurt. I do want you to cull German names from the Himmler witch files. They are on microfilm and you can pull copies. Names of 18th century witches, Herr Leopold, will provide you threads that will connect to people in the late 1800s.”

Schmidt leaned forward and smiled, “The original index cards are in Posen, sorry, I mean Posnan. If you need to see them, we will send you there.”

He handed Steve a flash drive and a small hand held scanner, “You will find the scanner useful, and there are files on Hartmann that may provide something you have not seen before.”

Jeager was a small man, thin, aesthetic with a haltering, uncertain manner about him. He spent most of the meal looking at his plate through steel rimmed glasses with thick lenses. Schmidt, like Meier, seemed extremely fit, though older, Steve guessed in his early sixties maybe. It seemed strange that all three seemed to be involved in the research. Usually a professor engaged in work on a book would be a loner, keeping his research close to his chest until the work could be published. Steve knew this much from his years at Yale.

The meal ended with a list of appointments for the following day. Steve shook hands with the three men, a rather formal, even old-world procedure. He headed to the elevators to start work on the contents of the flash drive. He decided instead to get a coffee to take up to his room. Schmidt, Jeager and Meier were standing near the entrance of the dining room, heads together and engrossed in conversation. They did not notice as Steve returned and slipped past them. As he did so, Steve saw Schmidt absently mindedly twisting a thick platinum wedding ring around his ring finger. It was not a wedding ring, but a signet ring that Schmidt had hidden on the inside of his hand during the meal. It had the same symbol on it at Meier’s, a deeply carved Black Sun.

Back in his room, Steve logged in to the hotel’s Internet portal to check his email. Jenny was back in San Francisco: “Promise to date only gay men while you’re away. But that’ll work for only just so long!”

Steve put Meier’s flash drive into his USB port and scanned it. There were a number of files on the drive and after opening the main folder, the finder opened one folder in particular. It was named “Elga” and in it was an image of a newspaper article from an Austrian newspaper, Neues Wiener Journal of June 10th, 1909 and a two rtf files. Steve enlarged the image of the yellowing newsprint page and began to read, his eyes squinting at the old fashioned German characters.

Next: 3. Demel’s Kafe