A Time To Every Purpose Page 3

  Her parents had told her, “The reason we’re still here as a family Leigh, is because we don’t force anything. Your grandfather said to let the wheel turn at its own pace and God will place you where you need to be and send the people he needs to send.”

  She was taught to be careful and cautious. To only allow others to see what she chose them to see. Again and again she was schooled to trust no one outside of the family. No one. Her father had sat her down in front of the six-spoke Wheel of the Messengers that was their family relic.

  “Leigh, you can trust God, your mother and me. But even then, don’t tell your mother and me any specifics of any plans you may be working on. You keep them between you and Him. Promise?”

  “I promise, daddy.”

  She had joined the Bund Deutscher Mädel on her fourteenth Birthday. She studied the lore and traditions of the Party, the Reich and the history of the Führer. Her mother had told her that to wreak havoc on the system she needed to know that system inside and out.

  On her sixteenth birthday she had received the Reichsführer-SS Prize for an essay she had written about Hitler’s thoughts and motivations in saving the world and humanity. The version she wanted to write, but couldn’t, would have belittled the penniless artist who had blamed his circumstances on anything but himself and his own shortcomings. How his inner thoughts had manifested themselves into a warped and sick political ideology. She knew the sequence of events in the early 1900’s that led to the Great Famine. She could recite how and when the Spanish Flu had broken out and how eventually the global economy had collapsed into depression. She had studied the growth of his polluted ideas into a firm doctrine and how he had manipulated the early forms of mass communication to get his message out.

  She knew in detail how he had masterfully manipulated the theories of Darwinism and the survival of the fittest in the animal kingdom. How he twisted it and pointed to the helplessness of the world’s powers to help everyone during the disasters that were befalling them.

  He had blamed the Turner Religion and its teachings of non-aggression for debasing true human nature. He said the Turner’s doctrine that insisted all should be loved and protected, even the weakest, had left humanity with no fight. The weakness was a cancer at the heart of the people. It pandered to the weak and allowed the sick to survive. It denied the strong their rightful spoils.

  He sought out those that had been most effected by the natural disasters that had befallen the world in those years. The ones who had lost family, friends, prosperity and security and he offered them an easy solution. He told them they deserved better and together they would take it. They were easily manipulated and quickly transformed into thugs and murderers.

  The next step was to find a soft target for his bullies and all around him stood Turners. He knew they would not, could not, fight back. His mantra remained that the poor were being subjugated and destroyed by the elite of the ruling classes. That all the Nations on the Earth were being controlled by the puppets of the Turner Religion. The Turners were the real evil in the world. Threatening the survival of the fit by the inclusion of the weak.

  As his followers grew in number he had uniforms produced and regulated their appearance. He drilled them and paraded them, held rallies and processions. When they were seen as a separate identity to the rest of society he united them further by saying that they were, in fact, a superior race. He wrote that the races were not equal. He said the long history of humanity proved that there were stronger nations and cleverer people than others. How in ancient pre-history the White Homo-Sapiens had evolved out of the Black. A superior race, a different species, as different as the Cheetah was from the Tortoise. How could the Aryan peoples allow the base, pre-evolved races to survive? Not only to survive but to own land and property and harvest food that the strong should have. How could they be allowed to rule and to spread their weakness?

  He railed that had humanity bowed to the strength and fury of Mother Nature, the one true force, visible everywhere, we would have weeded these miscreants out by now. We would have been a stronger, clever people. He avowed that it was people who were weak and animals that were strong. He said it was forgivable to kill weak and pathetic humans but a base crime to harm strong and majestic animals.

  The wind was now a strong cold force from the east and the flags flapped and danced in the artificial light. They threw shadows across her and onto the road in a way that reminded her of the famous footage shown to all schoolchildren of the Reich. The 1929 rally; a little man, animated on a big stage.

  ***

  “Friends, the true force is that of Nature herself. I am only her conduit. I am only the voice that says what you all know. I am her expression of life.

  If we did not turn to this weak magician, this false force, this charlatan, this Prophet, then, friends, then the world would be populated by the strong and the clever.

  There would never be economic disaster. Mother Nature would look after the strong, as she does with the least of her species. Wouldn’t she look to do the same for her greatest creation, her greatest evolved power?”

  The crowd noise ebbing and flowing. Waves of cheers building and breaking on each point. Made to watch it at least four times a year in school assembly Leigh could still recite the whole speech. As she waited in the cold she allowed her mind to recall the images.

  “There would never be failed crops or famines under the true force of Nature. There will be prosperity for all the strong. Friends, I am strong like you. Like you I yearn for our strength to be returned to us. To know that Nature is the true law that we should live by. Blessed are the peacemakers? What nonsense,” he paused and raised his fist bringing it down onto the podium in rhythm with his next sentences.

  “Blessed are the strong who protect their children from the weak and feeble minded!”

  “Blessed are the strong who protect their friends and family from the weak!”

  “Blessed are the strong who protect our Homeland!” The cheers erupted. With a calmness born from practise, he waited for the noise to subside.

  “The army which we have formed grows from day to day; from hour to hour it grows more rapidly. Even now I have the proud hope that one day the hour is coming when these untrained bands will become strong battalions, when the battalions will become regiments and the regiments divisions. When age-old banners will once again wave before us.”

  Stage-managed to perfection the old banners of the Legions of Rome, updated to reflect his doctrinal mantras and surmounted with the reversed Swastika, were unfurled around the stage. The light of torches caused the flags’ shadows to fall on him as he spoke.

  “Then reconciliation will come in that eternal last court of judgment; the court of Mother Nature. The ultimate authority before which we are ready to take our stand. Then from our bones, from our graves, will sound the voice of that tribunal which alone has the right to sit in judgment upon us. She will judge us, who as Germans have wished the best for their people and their Homeland, who wished to fight and to die. Those who oppose us may declare us guilty a thousand times, but the goddess who presides over the eternal court of history will, with a smile, tear in pieces the charges; for she declares us guiltless!”

  Leigh remembered the noise the crowd had made and how the roar had actually made the camera shake. The force of the crowd’s passion still so strong even through the scratchy, disjointed newsreel footage. The noise ripped through the distance of history and reached into the room where she had sat, transfixed by the birth throes of a terrible creature. She recalled how he had waited patiently for the crowd to quieten.

  “I know we are strong. But what are we to do? Are we to wander unguided? I know that we need a leader and so tonight I come to you to ask that question. To ask us to begin to search for one to lead us.”

  On reflection, it had been a masterful ploy. He knew all they lacked was a leader. He wanted them all to have a leader. He would search to find a leader for them. His final play was to refuse
the mantle of Leader. He expertly managed and manipulated the whole drama. He was elevated on the shoulders of his followers, he was paraded through the narrow streets of Munich and his Lieutenants started the spread of the whispers; ‘Why not him to be our leader?’ The whisper became a murmur which grew to become a cry that ripped the world to its foundations.

  Leigh knew the dates and the events and the history of the changing of the world like it was her own life history. The Führer consolidated his power, took supreme command of the German nation in 1933, built up the strength of the armed forces and all the while the Governments of the world, bound by Turner Doctrine, opposed him with nothing but words and prayers. He sponsored similar movements in Japan, Italy and Spain. He did it all in plain view and denied he was doing it.

  The rest of the world failed to see the evil that was truly in their midst. When the realisation that appeasement and turning the other cheek would not stop the force that was coming, it was much too late. With no military forces, with nothing but love and peaceful protestations, the free nations of the world were annihilated.

  Their final surrender and the declaration of the Greater Germanic Reich happened on the 20th August 1940. He had stood on the steps of the defunct parliament of the people and declared, ‘It is finished.’

  She’d always thought it was the strangest thing to say. It hadn’t been the end. It had only been the beginning. The transformation of the world into an image of his making had only just started.

  ***

  Boredom of sitting on a roadside kerb caused her to light her third cigarette of the previous forty minutes. Typically, just as she had taken the first two draws from it, a Horch staff car with SS pennants flying swept through the archway at the head of the Mall and approached her.

  She stood, put her notebook and cigarettes away, smoothed her skirt down and adjusted her jacket. Crushing out the cigarette on the side of the adjacent waste bin, she walked forward and stepped to the roadside. The headlights from the Horch swept along the right hand side of the road and lit her so that she had to shield her eyes with her hand. The car slowed and stopped almost gracefully, its large V8 engine softly purring in the evening. A Sturmmann in the uniform of the Großbritannien Division of the Waffen-SS stepped out briskly from the passenger side door and saluted her. She nodded as he reached for the right side rear door but also realised he was not any of the normal security detail that she was familiar with. She ducked under the sill and stepped into the spacious rear compartment taking her seat behind where the Sturmmann was regaining his.

  Glancing forward and left to the driver she didn’t recognise that man either. He was anything between mid-thirties and mid-forties, brown hair with a few small flecks of grey beginning to appear at the temples. She guessed at him being slightly taller than she was, lean but toned. He had a pleasant profile, deep set eyes, straight nose and generally appeared to Leigh as quite a handsome man. He wasn’t wearing the normal SS uniform. In fact he was in civilian attire. Denim jeans and a close fitting black tee-shirt. She noticed he was looking at her in the rear-view mirror. She looked back into his eyes.

  “Hello Doctor Wilson. I’m Heinrich Steinmann.”

  Chapter 4

  “You’re late. I thought you’d forgotten about me.”

  “Oh no, that was hardly likely, just delayed a little. I hope you are not too cold, shall I turn the heating up?” he glanced from the road to the rear-view mirror as he spoke.

  Leigh was uncomfortably aware that the man’s eyes were unnervingly... What? Not mean or threatening. She had expected him to be as cold as all the other Security Police she had ever encountered. Their eyes tended to be hooded, with a coldness that belied either the deeds they had seen or the deeds they had done. But this man’s eyes were different. She realised with a flush of guilt accompanied by a blush of colour to her cheeks that this man’s eyes were unnervingly attractive. Even in the dim light cast from the interior dashboard displays she could see a hint of green in them but it was their depth that held her. She realised she was staring. She glanced out the side window as she answered.

  “No, the temperature’s quite comfortable, thank you. I must admit I expected a pool driver to pick me up. To what do I owe the honour of being chauffeured by a man who has direct access to the Führer?” Leigh tried to make the question sound light-hearted but inside she felt sure he was here to take her directly to an interrogation centre. She casually moved her hand inside her jacket and slipped her fingers around the small tablet concealed there.

  “Oh you know, sometimes you just can’t get the staff,” he laughed lightly, “To be honest Doctor Wilson...”

  She interrupted him, “Please, call me Leigh. You did say you didn’t like formality.”

  “Okay, well, to be honest, Leigh, I fancied having a look around the town again and I don’t like being a passenger. So I asked young Sturmmann Wiehaden here,” he nodded in the direction of the young man in the passenger seat, “if I could drive. I think it might be a control thing?” he smiled and glanced at her in the mirror. The young Waffen-SS Sturmmann remained silent and the conversation progressed around him like he wasn’t there.

  “I would imagine it might well be a control thing. I could see that of you. You said again? You’ve been to London before Heinrich?” as she said his name she once more caught his eye in the mirror. She was used to acting in an innocent manner in front of all sorts of Nazi Party members, but this was something different, unusual. She needed to be careful. She did notice that the car had powered around the Memorial and was now speeding back down the Mall, heading north-east.

  “Yes, I was an undergraduate at Balliol, Oxford. Used to escape and come up to the big city at the weekends, you know to, um, study. But it was a while ago, I’m older than my looks,” he smirked.

  “Ah, but your modesty covers for you, yes?” she asked mockingly.

  “Something like that, yes,” he laughed and she put on her best fake smile in response.

  “So what did you study at the second tier University of England?”

  “Now, now Miss Wilson, just because we’re being informal doesn’t mean you can have a sneaky dig at me for being an Oxford Alumni. Keep that up and I’ll drop you here and you’ll have to walk in the cold,” his voice was light and almost playful. “Anyway, I studied Criminal Psychology and bizarrely then decided to do a Masters in English Literature,” he said.

  “I see. So not only can you understand and read the language that is my native tongue but you can study all my body language and tell me what I am thinking, eh?” Leigh asked in a comically sarcastic tone.

  “Well, sort of I suppose,” he glanced into the rear-view mirror and held her eyes for slightly longer than was safe as he sped east through London.

  “Very astute. Do you think I could ask you to maybe pay close attention to the road, given the speed we’re doing? I’m not the world’s best passenger.”

  This conversation was not what Leigh had prepared for. She had composed herself whilst she waited on the Mall. She had reminded herself why she was doing what she was doing. She was ready to face the monster and if necessary she would use the final option in her jacket. What she hadn’t expected was to be in a slightly flirtatious conversation with the man who was quite likely preparing to interrogate and execute her. She had had adrenaline rushes before but none of them ever made her feel like this. As the car went quiet for a moment she found herself looking through the gap in the front seats and appraising the right side of Heinrich’s body. She could see his muscles outlined through his tee-shirt. She noticed his arm as it reached to the steering wheel, toned and slightly tanned. She also noted that the car had continued to head east towards her work and not north-west to Harrow. She relaxed a little, took her hand from her jacket and turned to look out the side window again. She wondered about the nature of the man up ahead.

  He spoke more seriously than before and shocked her back into reality. “I’m sorry Leigh, I never meant to make you feel unsafe i
n a vehicle. I assure you I’m a competent driver. But, please accept my apology.”

  Leigh looked round at him. She was instantly angry with herself and with him. “So, Herr Steinmann, you’ve read my file, very good,” she said it coldly, almost spitting the words out.

  The car was quiet, he didn’t speak again. She sat back and watched the Thames pass on her right. They had sped along the special traffic lanes used exclusively by the Security Forces and had made the journey from the West End to the Isle of Dogs in just under fifteen minutes. Leigh watched the old docks pass on the left as the car drove the loop road down to the southernmost tip of the Isle. She saw the lights of the Todt Laboratories as the car turned left into the main approach road. She began to feel sweat on her palms again and a rising panic. She knew that she was either going to work or going to a cell depending on where the car stopped. She was determined to remain on her guard and not give herself away too early. Especially with this cunning bastard who had made her feel like a flirting teenager, then reminded her that he had studied her file and knew about her history before coming to pick her up. She calmed her breathing. Getting angry was not a good idea. Her hand slipped inside her jacket.

  As they slowed he turned off the headlights so as not to blind the gate guards. He slowed more, opened the side window and was recognised by the on-duty soldier who had seen him leave the complex not long before. A smart salute was delivered which Steinmann acknowledged with a cursory nod of the head. As the automatic boom gate came up he powered the staff car through. Leigh’s heart rate raced as she watched to see if they would head to the small holding facility over on the eastern side of the compound. She was conscious of breathing a deep sigh as instead they made straight for the main entrance steps of the laboratory complex. Sturmmann Wiehaden had his door open and was out, opening Leigh’s door, before she had actually acknowledged the car had stopped. She slipped her hand from inside her jacket, clutched her bag and stepped into the neon security lighting that flooded the area. Steinmann was coming around to the front of the car. He told Wiehaden to take the Horch back to the motor transport yard, fuel it, park it up and have a relaxing night. He would see him in the crew room at 07:30. Wiehaden snapped a drill book salute, shut Leigh’s door, walked around and climbed in to the driver’s seat. He pulled away from the entrance steps smoothly and without causing so much as one gravel-chip to fly up.