More clues and more riddles. And a tantalizing possibility. He read the last paragraph again. Another Humboldt? The only Humboldt he could think of was the German voyager and naturalist. So Brohm had been an explorer. And from there, the rest was simple. Jamie’s researches had uncovered the pre-war SS expeditions sent to seek out the origins of Aryan civilization. Those expeditions had travelled to Finland, the Middle East and Siberia. But to only one land of giants.
He reached into his wallet and pulled out a card, then dialled the number into his mobile phone. It was late, but he had a feeling the man he was calling wouldn’t mind.
XXIII
JAMIE HAD JUST replaced the phone when he was interrupted by a knock. When he opened the door, Sarah was waiting, dark hair tied back, dressed all in black and carrying her own rucksack.
‘Ready?’ she asked.
‘Ready as I’ll ever be.’ He switched off the light and closed the door behind him.
Wewelsburg Castle by day intimidated, by night it had all the charm of a Transylvanian keep under a full moon. They parked beside the road circling the base of the hill and stood for a few moments in a tense, nerve-tingling silence. Sarah bowed her head and he wondered if she was praying. He remembered what she had said – This is where it happened – and he knew she was thinking about the men and women who had died here. This was the very ground where the pictures had shown the Russian prisoners, the homosexuals and the emaciated shells of Hitler’s political enemies toiling to make Heinrich Himmler’s crazed dream of an SS Disneyworld a reality.
Jamie had identified a track that wound across the tree-blanketed slope. It was less a path than an unofficial shortcut created by wandering deer and children on mountain bikes, and he cursed silently as unseen brambles clawed at him and nettles whipped his face. A few feet behind, he noted tetchily, Sarah moved easily, as if darkness was her natural element, a silent shadow that treated the fierce incline as if it didn’t exist. When they reached the top of the hill, he began moving to his left. She placed a hand on his arm.
‘Not by the museum, there’ll be some sort of security.’ She led him through an arch and into the shadows. ‘I told you I was good at research.’
‘If you’re so good at research what is the penalty in Germany for breaking into a national monument?’
‘You should have thought of that earlier, but I’m fairly certain you wouldn’t get away with anything less than being put up against a wall and shot.’
‘You’re right, I should have thought of it earlier. Where now?’
‘This way avoids the museum.’ The grounds of the castle were on two levels. She led them to where a narrow stair led up to the roadway and the main gate. ‘Just pray there aren’t security lights with motion sensors.’
For once, he found the intellectual high ground. ‘Rabbit burrows.’ He pointed to the dark shadows in the grass. ‘They’d never be off, think of the electricity bill. Bugger.’
Sarah stopped. ‘What is it?’
‘I’ve left my rucksack in the car.’
He heard a soft mutter that might have been ‘idiot’. ‘We can’t go back now. We’ll just have to get by with what’s in mine. Come on.’
They trotted to the gateway with Jamie in the lead. At one point the clouds parted and he felt as if he was the focus of a hundred eyes as moonlight reflected from the castle windows, but soon they were across the bridge and inside the internal courtyard.
At the far end of the triangle lay the wooden door to the north tower. It had been open earlier, but now it was locked and Sarah pulled the stolen keys from the voluminous pocket of her hooded jacket. Jamie used his own anorak as a shield and switched on his torch. She studied the lock and speculatively dangled the keys. They’d discussed the likeliest ones for each door, but now, faced with the choice, she was uncertain which to try.
‘OK, baby, which one are you?’ She chose one of four similar black keys designed for mortise locks, and tried the first. It slid easily into the lock but didn’t turn. She repeated the process with the second with a similar result.
Jamie fretted. She was taking too long. ‘Let me try?’
The darkness hid her face, but he guessed that the look she gave him would leave a permanent scar. Fortunately, she thrust the keys into his hand without argument.
He worked the next key into the lock, but it barely fitted. One last try. As he juggled the keys in his hand they rattled like a prisoner’s chains.
‘Jeez, next time I’m going to commit a burglary I’ll make sure my partner’s a rhinoceros. He’ll make a darn sight less noise. Try the first one again. I had the feeling it might just be stiff.’