David Perkins - Hitler's Astrologer

“I saw Oma last night, daddy! Is she still here?”

“Heinrich, you saw who ?”

“Grandmother! She came into my room to say goodbye, is she still here?”

Dora and Edward Fesel looked at each other. Earlier that morning they had received a telephone call that Dora’s mother had passed away last night at 11:50 pm.

“What time did she visit you last night, Heinrich?”

Little Heinrich Fesel thought carefully. He had learned to tell time a few months back, but did not look at the clock when he saw his grandmother, who lived in Bremen, some 200 kilometers away. Then he remembered something.

“She came just after the midnight train came by…”

The “midnight train” was the daily overnight express from Frankfurt am Main to Berlin that usually could be heard off in the distance – if one was awake. Even thought it did not stop in their town, it was called the midnight train since it passed their tiny station at precisely 11:45 pm each evening.

“So, until 16:00 tomorrow… here?” Fesel said as he clicked his heels to show his intention of leaving them.

“Yes, I’ll be waiting here… and, Herr Fesel, thank-you. Thank-you for everything.”

Heinrich Fesel looked directly into Karl Ernst eyes. “Heinrich, please, call me Heinrich… I would be honored.”

“Yes, of course, Heinrich.”

Krafft closed the door, walked over to the window and stared at the breathtaking view the hotel had of Berlin’s center. He reflected what he learned on the elevator over Magda Himmler’s assessment of where and who was involved in the 16 thcentury passage. He made a mental note that despite his expertise of finding out when events would happen, he needed to focus also on these two other elements as well.

“Karl, what a beautiful room.”

“Yes, and all this provided courtesy of the Third Reich!”

Even though he was considered the foremost astrologer in Europe, his native Swiss compatriots, individuals and institutions, never paid him the respect he felt he deserved. Now he was getting it from Nazi Germany.

Elaine joined him by the window. “Karl, do you think we should tell them…?”

Maxi heard the back door of his taxi open and looking in the rear view mirror saw a rather fat general let a slender, well-dressed woman in first, then plumped in behind her. Cigar smoke began to fill the cab.

“Schulerstrasse 26!” The general barked, as if giving an order to one of his subordinates.

Maxi turned over the engine, heaved a sigh and shifted the car in gear. For the past several nights he had been waiting for Bettina, hoping to pick up one or two more pieces to what Goebbels might be up to. At least this fare would take him near Otto, who might know the whereabouts of Bettina.

“Does schatzie like what she saw?”

“Ja, mein General! When will it be here?”

“You can have it next week, however, my dear, you have to be a good little girl until then.” The cigar went back into his mouth.

“Of course, my general, I always obey orders”. The woman said this breaking out into laughter, which caused the general to burst out as well.

Maxi could see both where beyond drunk. Through the rear view mirror he could also see the general’s hands cover her breasts that were pushing up through a low cut gray blouse. The woman looked in the mirror and mocked a flirtatious kiss, as if inviting him to join in as well. Maxi returned the mimicked kiss and shook his head.

“Ah, I will miss these when I am in France!” Muttered the general, as his mouth replaced his hands for contact with the woman’s sizable assets.

Maxi pretended not to hear the comment. He began turning the dial on the radio as if to appear to be occupied with another sound source in case the general suddenly realized his slip. He didn’t, he was too drunk. Or was he acting drunk already aware Maxi was an agent and wishing to plant flash information? Such were the considerations in espionage.

The woman seemed too preoccupied with keeping the wavering cigar from burning her hair and face to give the comment any special attention.

“Schulerstrasse 26.” Maxi said while turning on the inside cab light, happy to change the topic.

The general tossed up a wad of bills, double the fare. “Keep it.” He said, never taking his eyes off his date. “ You are a good driver.”

“Thank-you, Herr General.”

After getting out, the woman turned towards the front passenger window and leaned forward, grabbing the sides of her blouse and bra strap, then began shaking her breasts until they slowly worked their way back into the stretchy material designed to hold them.

“Thank- you , Fräulein…!” Maxie muttered, showing appreciation for the spectacle.

“Schatzie” mocked another kiss blown then caught up with the general.

The Count looked at the paper, then at the young Swede who delivered it.

“You saw both of them… together ?”

The young man nodded in the affirmative.

The Count set the paper down on the small Louis IX table by the front door. “Good, you can go. Keep your watch then on both of them, let me know immediately the next time you see them both together, whether they actually speak or not.”

The young man nodded, bowed and disappeared.

The Count’s plans for walking on both sides of the fence in this particular scheme appeared to be in jeopardy – especially when two of the eight key players he was playing against each other were speaking. He thought of the possibility these parties were now on speaking terms, and this became his biggest concern. Where there others playing both sides of this war as well? Where these two supposed pawns working on their own, or for others? If so, who? The Russians? The Americans? Neither were in the war… yet, but either one could be in the near future.

The Count’s influence and power reached and directed just over four hundred associates all over the world, yet each of these individuals were in positions of power and influence as well. At any given time, the Count’s influence could be acted upon in any nation on earth. He himself was not a nation, but with his seemingly unlimited wealth, old European banking family contacts influence, astuteness, and political connections – his power was equal, if not more, than any governing body on the planet.

Now it appeared he might have competition.

“Something hot?”

“General Schmidt-Prange just mentioned he will miss Birgit Witte’s tits while he is in France.”

“Is he flying or going by car?” Otto asked sarcastically.

“What plane could lift that fat pig off the ground?” returned Maxi. “Get hold of anything recently on your end?”

“Everything and nothing.” Otto handed Maxi a sheer thin sheet of paper. “Two of our guys haven’t returned to Holland. They left Velno a few days ago to make contact with an RC in Dortmund, who was then supposed to come see us. We’re being asked to keep a watch in case they end up here… I have the Oststrasse prison being watched.”

“What were these two after?”

“How Hitler is getting information from some kind of special source… or something, that has to do with the occult.”