“Frauline Meyer has left Berlin for an important trip on Ministry business.”
“A trip?” Maxi was shocked, and was sure that Otto and Bettina’s parents would be as well. “But, where?”
“Sorry that is confidential. I will make certain that Frauline Meyer receives your note. Thank you for your concern, you may inform all your family and friends not to worry. Some official trips are made at the last minute, and this happens to be one of them.”
“But, may we know when she will return?”
“Sorry, that is also confidential.” Lt. Schiller raised the note in his hand, as if to acknowledge that he will deliver the note, and that was all he could do. “Now, if you will excuse me?” Schiller did not even wait for an answer from Maxi, but simply turned and walked off.
“Yes, certainly, thank you.” Said Maxi, half to Lt. Schiller whose back was turned, and half to the guard. Maxi then walked out the huge wooden and brass doors. It was darker outside than he expected, for in the few moments he was inside, a horizon long length of low dark gray clouds now filled three quarters of the Berlin sky and were threatening rain.
Meanwhile inside, Lt. Schiller returned to his office and sat down at his desk, the sudden darkness outside making him turn on desk lamp so he could read the note Maxi had just given him. After reading it, he folded it in half, quarters, eighths; then tossed it in the army green trash basket next to his desk.
Karl Ernst watched as Elaine and Frau Ney ascended up the stairs, he would prefer she stay by his side in such social situations, or at least in the same room. He never felt secure at parties, where the conversation and actions of the group were unpredictable, confusing and often mundane. He much preferred to deal with groups of people at a lecture, either as an audience member or speaker. At least in that environment one knew their role and what was expected.
Elaine however, felt right at home at any social event. She did not have to understand the local etiquette, or even the language of the group she was in, for her charm and beauty always seemed to make anything she did or said be the correct manner for the moment.
“She’s perfect!” Dr. Frank whispered. Krafft was unaware the Governor was standing right behind him. While he understood the statement as a compliment, he felt a shock the tone this high Nazi official expressed was a serious desire for his Elaine.
The Major approached them both – sensed something was wrong and decided to change the mood. “Gentlemen!” He said grabbing Krafft’s arm and leading him to the kitchen, “Since the ladies are upstairs having their fun, let’s go down to the studio where I’m sure there is something for us to enjoy!”
“Ahhh… yes!” The Governor General murmured, being reminded of the main reason he came to the party in the first place. He followed the Major and Krafft, grabbing a handful of mixed nuts and raisins in stride and stuffing them in his mouth, many of these ending up on the oriental rug below.
“Do you like art, Herr Krafft?” The Major asked with a smile while opening the kitchen door.
As they headed into the kitchen, one man – talking with a group by the cutting board – noticed the procession and promptly excused himself. He followed the group around the kitchen and then through another door, which had a small staircase leading down to a large metal door, one you might see in a factory or shipyard. Whimpering and weeping could be heard on the other side.
When the door opened, Krafft could see a huge statue of a man on a raised horse, stamping out what appeared to be two witches beneath the horse’s hoofs. Behind the unfinished sculpture was a man in a white lab coat – with no pants – having intercourse from behind of a sobbing naked woman covered in mud.
Another woman, also covered in muddy clay and tears, was handcuffed to one of the witches in the sculpture.
“Bruno!” The major shouted, as if not seeing him for several years. “What are you making today?” All of the men laughed hysterically, except for Krafft.
Bruno, who appeared not to have shaven in several days – and seemed to have neglected his hair for an even longer period – looked up at the approaching men and keeping his face towards them, pushed the woman away from him with all his might into a small pool of muddy clay.
“Polish Bitch!” He shouted as he stood up and tied the lab coat around his waist. “I almost had her in the perfect position for this work… but she has no sense for art!”
The Major, Governor General, and other man burst out laughing again. “But Arno, these are the ones you picked out of the truckload we sent you! Must I call Colonel Schumann in Warsaw again and have you sent another truck load?” The Governor General’s tone suggested Arno received a regular delivery of such assistants.
Arno noticed the expressionless face on Krafft.
“Who’s this stiffed up goose? Jens, I told you, no more art critics in my studio, especially if they are my critics!”
“Your studio?” Jens questioned. The Governor General and Major snickered.
Jens turned to Krafft and pointed back at Bruno. “Herr Krafft, that is the one, the only, the master of all sculptures in the Third Reich… and…”
“…and the world!” Arno added.
“…and the world…” Jens finished. “…in fact, may I introduce you to the greatest sculpture of all times! Bruno Becker!”
The name Karl Krafft knew. Bruno Becker was a premier sculptor in Nazi Germany, for the National Socialists greatly admired his many figures with heroic high cheekbones & other physical attributes corresponding to their romantic conception of Nordic men and women –Unlike his sculptures, Arno did not share many of these pure facial features.
“And?” Bruno questioned. “Must I ask again? Who is this stiff you brought into my studio when I am attempting some direction and inspiration in this work?”
“This,” Jens said in an introducing manner, “is the Karl Ernst Krafft – the astrologer!”
Bruno’s eyes lit up. “Ah, perfect, just the man I want to see to… that is, who I want to talk to now! Herr Krafft, my Mars in now in my 5th house, and will soon transit my Saturn, and I am worried that…”
Karl Ernst listened to Bruno, who obviously was schooled on the techniques of astrology in regards to technical and interpretative elements. For the first time tonight Karl Ernst Krafft has one before him who spoke sacred geometry.
Krafft’s mind took Bruno’s data in automatically, as a grandmaster chess player would to start the opening moves in his head. Krafft’s subconscious mind took in what he saw around the studio. Both women had stopped sobbing, perhaps in the fear that even uttering another sound would bring more attention to them – and in this case – more men around might mean more pain. Krafft then visualized Bruno’s horoscope chart. Venus. Scorpio. Sex. Something was not correct.
“Now, the last time I had Venus transit my Sun, my work went through a severe lack of…” Bruno continued, listing facts and personal experience as if he had not spoken to a soul for decades.
The Major began to walk around the sculpture, eyeing it and the women handcuffed beneath the horse’s hoofs. He pulled up her hair to see the muddy face and squished her cheeks together so her mouth was forced open. “Filthy!” The major said to himself aloud.