Berlin
22-23rd November RY154
An evening at the opera in the company of my more musically minded associates is always a pleasure. One only lessened by the fact that even after all these years, I have failed to persuade Frida of the enjoyment of such an evening. However, the company of Tristan Heydrich and Matthias Kapler and their wives at the gala performance of Tristan und Isolde largely made up for her absence, especially with the lovely Heinrike Karsten, the new Honour Guard commander, as my escort.
After what had happened to Rikart Schultz in the Aurellis Logrus, Roland and I had spent a good couple of months with him in fast time, helping him to recover and trying to show him what his new responsibilities meant. The fact that Jaina, who I had created to be Handmaid of the Church of Protection, had decided to stay with the aspect, rather than with me, at least meant that he had a helping hand, and he was no longer in denial about becoming an Aurellian god. However, by mutual agreement, we'd decided that he should step down as Head of the Honour Guard and from active duty (with a promotion to honorary Gruppenführer as a reward for putting up with me so for so long), so he could concentrate on his new responsibilities. His deputy had agreed to take his place, thus becoming the first woman to hold the position of Head of the Honour Guard.
Held at the Kaiserin Elsa Arts Centre, that evening's opera was the Berlin half of a cultural exchange between our nation and Sable, with simultaneous performances in our respective capitals. Olivia Castle, a soprano from my brother's nation, sang Isolde and did a surprisingly competent job, although in my opinion, she couldn't quite match our own lovely nightingale, Margitte Schell, who was performing in the Marriage of Figaro in Sable that same evening. Elsa, herself, represented the Kaiser - again, not an opera fan - and the glittering reception afterwards rounded off the evening to perfection.
It was around midnight, and my party were heading out for a late supper before returning to the SS Village, when I felt an incoming Trump call. I instinctively knew it was my brother - one of my newer abilities as Aurelian God of Trumps appears to be an enhanced form of caller ID, where I don't really even really having to think about it to know who's calling, if it's someone I'm very familiar with.
I sighed. The chances were he wasn't calling to compliment me on Margitte's performance.
"Guten Abend, Mein Bruder," I said, as I opened the link. He was dressed in the tuxedo which was standard dress for civilians at the opera (we were obviously in dress blacks), and looked concerned, angry even, although for once I was pretty sure that his ire was not directed at me.
"Evening, Rupert," he replied, "how was the opera?"
"Very enjoyable...Fraulein Castle is a talented young woman," I answered, trying to keep the right side of civil, "how can I help you this fine night?"
"Everything went smoothly? No problems?"
"No. Should there have been?"
"We've had an incident here in Sable."
"And you wanted to see if it was a co-ordinated effort?" I replied, "allow me to assure you that it was not. What happened?"
"First assessment is that someone tried to kill either Gottleib Karsten or myself, or possibly both of us, tonight. We're still trying to find out which of us was the target."
Karsten is the Reich Consul in Sable, as well as being Heinrike's uncle. A career politician, he's very good at toeing the Party line, whatever his own personal views on a subject. I knew that he wasn't exactly the biggest fan of the Treaty, but he was professional enough not to let that influence his dealings. And of course, Robert is Robert.
"Are you both alright?"
"We're fine, as are his party."
"But...?"
"We've had some casualties. About a two dozen killed or injured."
"My condolences," I replied, "what happened?"
"The attack was biological: a gas or virus of some sort. And I'm sorry to tell you that Miss Schell was the...method of delivery."
"Excuse me?"
"My people are still investigating, so I don't have all the details yet. However, what I can tell you is that one of the audience realised that something was wrong with Miss Schell during the performance, and became concerned. My security people were alerted, and once we arrived at the reception, a pretext was made for her to wait in a side room before being introduced to the receiving line. While she was waiting, something happened and she...well, this bit doesn't make that much sense yet, and I haven't been allowed near the crime scene to confirm reports...but it sounds as if she disintegrated, and as she did the toxin was released."
"Presumably she's dead?"
"I'm afraid so."
"But you don't know for sure who was the target? Are you sure that it even was you or Karsten?"
"It's the first assessment from my security people. As I said, investigations are ongoing, and apparently one of the assassins may still be here. When we catch him, we should get more answers."
"How could a person be used as a biological weapon in that way?"
"Believe me, I'm trying to work that one out myself. Hopefully I'll know more later."
"Thank you for informing me, Mein Bruder. If there's anything my people can do to assist, then call me."
"When I know more," he answered, and broke off the call.
"Problem, Rupert?" Tristan asked, strolling back towards me from where the cars were parked.
"Margitte Schell is dead," I answered, still somewhat surprised, "killed in a terrorist attack against my brother and Consul Karsten."
"Who was the perpetrator?" he replied, snapping back into 'on duty' mode.
"That's what's bizarre. It sounds as if she was. Talk to Schneider and von Raeder. Find out if they've heard any chatter. And if they haven't, find out how this could have sneaked in under the radar."
"Of course, Herr Reichsführer," he said, saluting smartly, and then crossed to his wife was waiting and made his excuses. Kapler offered to make sure that Veronika got home safely, and then Heydrich crossed to me and got into my car. We drove back to Hradcany Castle together, and on arrival young Belvoir, one of the post-Solstice new recruits to the Honour Guard, stayed with me as we went while Heinrike diverted via the Village, so she could change back into something more appropriate. It was going to be a long night.
* * * * *
"Any progress, Mein Bruder," I asked, as Robert finally got back to me at around 04.00.
"Yes, but you're not going to like it."
"I knew that when you first told me something had happened. Who and how?"
"How is definitely a good one. From the analysis I've been given by my people, it seems that Miss Schell was altered at a fundamental level using a combination of ritual magic and genetic manipulation, to make her into a remotely triggered weapon. She was supposed to...activate?...when she was being introduced to Karsten in the receiving line."
"How is that even possible?"
"Very good question," he replied, and I had the impression he was as baffled as I was, "the details we obtained from the prisoner were quite sketchy. He was definitely a monkey, not and organ grinder."
"You have a prisoner?"
"I'm afraid we had a prisoner. In the spirit of co-operation, my people allowed your Major Graber to be in on the interrogation. And once Graber had got what he thought was everything relevant out of the captive - one Frank Carlsson - he unilaterally decided to shoot the prisoner in the head."
I cursed roundly. I had the impression Robert's reaction had been similar. Moreover, Carlsson's name was not unfamiliar to me. Some years before he'd been involved in some unauthorised mayhem within Sable itself.
"Did Ambassador Karsten approve of this?"
"He certainly didn't stop it."
"That would seem to have been a precipitous decision," I commented, "unless the prisoner could have told us something Graber himself would have rather he didn't."
"What was done was done," came the answer, "I'll make sure you get a written copy of the interrogation report."
"So what did they learn."
"First, as I mentioned, Karsten was the primary target, although to be honest, anyone in the vicinity would have been exposed, including myself. Miss Schell apparently had a longstanding disagreement with your Consul. An affair and a child, if I understand correctly. So she was easily recruited by someone wanting to get at him. However, it seems that her intention was just to embarrass Karsten, which was why she agreed to work with the conspirators."
"Allowing yourself to be turned into a human bomb really doesn't imply that embarrassment is your motive."
"No, but from our more...esoteric investigations...it seems that what was done to here to make that happen was neither of her volition, or known to her. So she had no idea what she was getting into. I'd even go as far as to say that she was as much of a victim as he was supposed to be."
"There's a very short list of people who could do something like that. You, me...father. One or two of the Ahnenerbe geneticists..."
I stopped. Robert's expression had changed as I said that.
"One of the Ahnenerbe geneticists was involved? Which one?"
"Jaime Armin."
The stream of invective I let out at that point would have embarrassed a sailor.
Jaime fucking Armin.
Again.
Despite being head geneticist for the Ahnenerbe, and formerly both a Companion of the Order and an honorary Sturmbannführer in my organisation, he had also been implicated in the Germanenorden plot to blow up the Treaty signing in April. I'd let him live then, as his skills and knowledge were unique, especially in the field of Talent genetics. He, alone, had had some success in recreating the exceptionally rare mutation which allowed a Talented child to be born to non-Talented parents. He was also physician to the children of a number of prominent Citizens in Berlin, including Conrad Berthelmes' son Xavier. And worse still, he was supposed to have been under surveillance, after his previous faux pas. I was going to have to have some strong words with Dierk Schneider, as it sounded as if the Gestapo had been asleep on the job.
"Who else?"
"Elias Sauber and August Nagel. I presume you know them both - they're ex SS."
And Companions of the Order, although he wasn't impolite enough to mention that.
I tried not to let my dismay show on my face. Sauber had retired from the Waffen-SS after years of faithful service, reaching the rank of Brigadeführer, while Nagel had been with the Ahnenerbe and now taught history at the university. The only positive thing about it, was that, at least this time, none of the guilty were full Knights. When would the opponents of the Treaty realise that they're campaign was going to be unsuccessful?
Of course, if they had successfully killed the Reich Consul in Sable - and potentially injured the King of Sable as collateral damage - it would have gone a good way to restarting hostilities. Which was presumably their intention.
"I'd like to send some people to Berlin to apprehend the criminals," Robert continued.
I hesitated before replying. Did I want Sable agents running around Berlin trying to play policemen? Not really. On the other hand, my brother was probably smarting from the fact that he would have been a target, for which I couldn't blame him. And of course there were the politics of the situation. An open example of Sable-Reich co-operation to tackle a mutual threat and apprehend the traitors could probably be given a positive spin.
"Did you hear me, Rupert?" Robert asked.
"Oh yes, I heard you," I answered, "I'll allow it on condition that a) they have a liaison assigned to them at all times, and b) they work with the Kripo, rather than acting independently."
"Why the Kripo?"
"I rather suspect that they'd prefer working with the Kripo than the Gestapo."
"Fair point."
"I'll arrange for a Pilot to come and collect them. Have them be at the Sable ATS station at 10.00."
He thought for a moment and then nodded.
"Acceptable."
"Good. And don't worry, Mein Bruder. I'll try to make sure they don't get broken."
With that, he broke off the Trump call, I considered who to assign as the liaison between the Kripo and the Sable group. In the end, I settled on Sturmbannführer Emil Thorsten who, while officially being SD rather than Kripo, was a known entity to them and had served well at the Treaty signing. Perhaps, in earlier days, I would have assigned Jorge von Raeder the job, but given his new status, to do so no longer seemed appropriate. I also decided that Hauptsturmführer Charlotte Pascal should be the Pilot sent to bring the Sable team to Berlin. I rang Tristan to bring him up to date and ask him to make sure that Thorsten and Pascal knew to be in my office at 08.00. Then, once that was done, I decided to head back to my apartment in the Village, to get a couple of hours sleep.
I was back in my office by 07.30, somewhat rested and at least refreshed with breakfast, reading through the overnight intelligence chatter on the incident. It didn't seem as if much more had been discovered beyond the informal briefing I'd been given by my brother, and hoped that that was due to having received a full report from him, rather than a failing in my organisation's information gathering. I contacted Tristan, Schneider and von Raeder and informed them that we would meet in my office at 09.00 to discuss the matter, and then settled down to wait for Thorsten and Pascal.
After various meetings and a certain amount of thumb twiddling, I received confirmation of the arrival of the Sable group, including their identities at 10.15. Some of them were known to me and some of them weren't, and I couldn't decide whether to be delighted or disappointed that Julian Bond, a perennial thorn in my side, was not among them. I had some good news for him, when the time was right. With his usual subtlety, one of those my brother had sent was Giselle Armand who, while not being actively on the official persona non gratia list, was not one of my preferred Sable operatives. Most of the others were less controversial choices. Still, as it turned out, sending Pascal had been providential, given that it could be seen as reminding Fraulein Armand that I both still remembered what had happened at the AMTRI on Niedersachsen, and still had her sister within my sphere of influence, should she attempt to do something as firmly against the Reich's interests as her actions on Niedersachsen again.
Once they were established at Kripo HQ, I ordered my car around and despite the fact that she was technically off duty by then, asked Heinrike to accompany me. I reasoned that she would want to be in on the kill, as it were, of those who had tried to murder her uncle. She was only too happy to comply, although we agreed that it would not be in an Honour Guard capacity, as she didn't consider herself to be fit for protection duty, given that she'd been on shift since the previous evening. So Stuckart and Torres also accompanied us to Kripo HQ.
I was met at the entrance by Reichskriminaldirektor Beata Dietrich, who had been informed in advance that I was on my way, and she led me to a small room off the main security office, where we could monitor discussions. After all, I had rationalised that my walking in on the planning would probably make our Sable delegates nervous, but I was curious to observe how they worked. On the white walls, magical projections were being displayed of what was going on in the room where our Sable guests were being accommodated, and she handed me a comms crystal, taking one herself, so we could hear what was being said. The discussions were efficiently conducted, although there was the obvious issue of mutual mistrust between the Sable group and the local law enforcement representatives. However, Thorsten did a good job of smoothing things out between the Sable group leader, a Captain Walsh, who I had encountered at the Treaty signing; and Kriminalkommissar Gerhard, who was co-ordinating the investigation from our end. There were other representatives of the treaty group as well, including Armand, and a young woman - a Trump artist - who despite her different appearance, I was pretty sure was the same one who had helped me get away from Cavazza.
They decided that a near-simultaneous arrest of all three key perpetrators at their places of business was the way forward. However, this meant splitting their forces three ways. The Sable team seemed most keen to be involved in the arrest of Sauber, the ringleader, which suited me fine. I wanted to go after Armin, and I didn't have any particularly strong feelings about the third member of the conspiracy. Given that Sauber's movements were the hardest to predict, they decided that the way to go was an assault while he was travelling between his properties, and requested that forces be made available, although Walsh expressed concerns about whether the SS troops would follow his orders.
Around lunchtime, they took a break from planning, and Thorsten joined me to discuss what needed to be done. I also brought Heydrich into the conversation. In the end, we agreed that we would leave the Sable agents and the SS forces to have their fun with Sauber, and Tristan and I would personally deal with the others. An agent was sent to watch Sauber's movements, so they could pick the best time to strike, while I organised for a small group of crack troops, who wouldn't lose their heads on an operation in central Berlin, leading to too many collateral casualties, to be made available. On a whim, I also provided an honorary rank for Walsh, so that he would have the direct authority to run the arrest. The things I do for mutual co-operation. Then we co-ordinated timings, allowing for myself to have an opportunity to observe how the Sable group worked with the SS (and perhaps derive a little amusement from a Sable naval officer leading a squad of my best men into action), and then Thorsten returned to Walsh's people to report.
Zero hour. Word came through that Sauber was moving, and they began to move out. I dispatched Stuckart to the vicinity of Armin's office, to keep watch in case the good doctor got wind of what was happening and tried to run, while Torres I sent to Ploetzensee Prison, about fifteen miles outside of Berlin, where she could receive the prisoners as we brought them in. Then I ordered my driver to bring the car round and followed the group going after Sauber at a discreet distance.
In the end, the operation was undertaken in a clean, clinical manner, with Walsh, Thorsten and Gerhard co-ordinating from an appropriate vantage point, and the more action-oriented members of the Sable team in the thick of the fighting or running interference. Needless to say, given his background, Sauber didn't go down without a fight. There were casualties, albeit mainly among the SS troops, but realistically it was only a matter of time. He went down and was arrested in short order, and as he was handcuffed, I felt a Trump call.
"Herr Reichsführer?"
"Yes, Niklaus."
"Armin has ordered for his car to be brought round."
"I'll be with you shortly," I replied, and took one last look at the scene in front of me. As I did, the young Trump artist looked in my direction. Our eyes met, and I confirmed to myself that I hadn't been mistaken in my identification. I also now knew the feel of her Trump signature - a new concept I was just beginning to appreciate. I threw her a mock salute, and then got back into the car and we headed for Armin's clinic.
He was just coming out when my car pulled up, blocking his vehicle's path. As I got out of the car and slammed the door, I saw a look of panic cross his features. He glanced away from me, obviously gauging whether he could make a run for it, to see Stuckart walking up the pavement towards him. He bolted anyway, ducking round the bonnet of his car and trying to run down the street opposite, but Heinrike was on his tail immediately. Given their relative ages and levels of fitness, she outdistanced him in short order and despite his weight advantage, hit him in the small of the back and brought him down. Stuckart joined her seconds later, while I threw up a ward that would prevent him teleporting away. By the time I reached them, he was cuffed and on his knees.
"Hello, Jaime," I said, pleasantly, as I gestured for him to be hauled to his feet.
"Herr Reichsführer," he said, looking at me through hooded eyes
"You and I need a little talk."
"Make an appointment with my secretary," he answered, defiantly.
"Not this time," I replied, and brought Torres's image to mind. I opened a Trump gate between us and gestured for Heinrike and Stuckart to take Armin through, following close behind them. We were met by the prison Kommandant, Sturmbannführer Erich Kassmeyer, who led us to the cell which had been prepared for Herr Doktor Armin, complete with magical defences. He was stripped to his underwear, and then we opened the door, pushed him in and slammed it behind him, leaving him to stew for a bit without any food or water. An experienced guard took up guard outside. Heydrich brought Nagel in a short while later, and he was imprisoned a few doors down under similar conditions.
The Sable group had expressed a desire to interrogate Sauber first, so the plan had allowed for him to be returned to Kripo HQ. Letting Sable agents loose in Ploetzensee, first - and often last - destination for political prisoners and enemies of the Reich, could so easily have led to misunderstandings and tedious conversations about Human Rights. At that point, Tristan and I returned to Kripo HQ, to make sure things were under control there, taking a few moments to send Heinrike off duty, to report back to me that evening.
I returned to Ploetzensee at around midnight. The lights were still on in Armin's cell, and he had been denied food and water during his stay, although the guards had been in to visit him occasionally to amuse themselves. I indicated for Radulf to wait outside and went inside with Heinrike and the prison guard assigned to his cell. As he heard us enter, he sat up slowly on his hard, bare bunk, obviously favouring his side, and he stared at me warily. His left eye was swollen and bruised, and the fingers on his left hand weren't exactly perpendicular any more, but despite the pain he was obviously in, he remained defiant.
"Why did you do it, Jaime?" I asked, meeting his gaze as Heinrike hauled him to his feet.
"I thought the Treaty was a mistake when it was signed," he answered, "and I still think that."
"And again your method of protest is to sanction an attempted assassination? Our Consul to Sable and possibly the King of Sable himself. On Sable territory. And no care for collateral damage, given that your chosen weapon wasn't exactly discriminating. Again."
"We were following our consciences," he answered, dodging my question.
"What an interesting justification," I answered, looking at him, "but unacceptable."
"A traitor to the Fatherland would say that."
"Jaime...Jaime..." I said, shaking my head, "didn't we cover this after the whole Germanenorden debacle? What am I going to do with you?"
"I'm a true patriot. Why should I be punished for that? Isn't it what we want all our Citizens to be? What we bring up our children to be?"
"Your definition of patriot is flawed," I replied.
"Says the man who meets with the enemy leader on a regular basis, and has debased the honour of the organisation he claims to serve by giving honorary rank in it to that enemy leader. Says the man who has made himself subject to the higher authorities of still another non-Reich country, by virtue of becoming a 'god' in that place."
"There are reasons to my actions far beyond anything you can comprehend, Herr Doktor," I answered, levelly.
"A typical bullshit answer, Delatz," he replied, "I used to believe in you. Believe you were our protector. Believe in the faith you had in our great nation. Believe that you placed the good of the Fatherland before anything else: friends, family, anything. However, it is now obvious to me that this is no longer true."
As he spoke, I felt anger at his impudence, but I did my best to control it: keeping it cool and directed, rather than lashing out.
"As for what you're going to do with me," he continued, "the answer is, you aren't going to do anything. You didn't before, when you had more justification. You're not going to now. You know the Fatherland needs me...my knowledge. No-one else has got close to the breakthroughs in genetics which I've made in the field of the Talent and how to neutralise shape shifters. And who else could have made this attack possible? You need me."
"Actually, no," I replied, quietly, "what I need is your knowledge. You are irrelevant."
And with that I flexed my hand and hit him with a paralysis spell, then crossed to him. I placed my hand on his forehead and started to rip every piece of knowledge and information out of his head. Fear came into his eyes, followed by an understanding of what I was doing and finally a deep hatred of me. His loathing hit me very strongly, and was the final emotion I tore from him before his mind went blank. I removed my hand and stepped back, looking into his empty, glazed eyes. The only reason he was still upright, was because the paralysis kept him that way. I paused for a moment, then shrugged and conjured up a memory gem - a useful little device, which allow you to store thoughts and impressions taken directly from the mind of the subject during interrogation. Until recently, they had been hard to produce, but my Arcane Defence Group has come up with a simple method of production and implementation as an adjunct to their work with wards that detect sentience, rather than just physical or magical intrusion. The head of the group has kindly taught me the techniques required to make them. Into the gem I transferred all the knowledge and essence that had been Jaime Armin, and then slipped it into my pocket.
I was about to turn and head for the door when an amusing thought crossed my mind. I contemplated for a moment or two and conjured a reel of piano wire.
"Scharführer Brae," I said to the prison guard standing silently beside Heinrike by the door to the cell.
"Yes, Herr Reichsführer?"
"Find something entertaining to do with that..." I said, indicating Armin, "and this..." and I threw him the spool of wire.
"Yes, Herr Reichsführer," he repeated, snapping a smart salute.
He crossed to where Armin's empty shell was still standing and set to work. I observed for a few moments, Heinrike silent beside me, and then made my way to the door. I knocked and was recognised by Radulf, who opened it and let us out. The head of the Honour Guard fell in behind me as I left, showing very little concern at the fate of the prisoner. Then finally, as Radulf closed behind us and then fell in beside me, I snapped my fingers and released the paralysis spell.