The giant entrance doors to the Kaiserhoff Hotel appeared to be in a constant state of opening and closing, spewing in and out a variety of hotel and military uniforms, and various styles of civilian clothes. The mixture of textures and colors gave the impression here is the center of European fashion – and the Second World War.
“Can I help you, sir?”
“No, thank-you, I’m waiting for my colleagues.” Dr. Heinrich Fesel had originally been a schoolmaster. He was an accomplished classical scholar and one of the few in the Nazi party who knew Sanskrit. To say he was a colleague of Karl Krafft was stretching the truth, since they had only met once in 1935 at an astrological lecture given by Krafft in Mannheim. Fesel had always been fascinated in the occult since he saw – what he believed to be – his grandmother’s ghost when he was 11 years old.
“Very well, sir, perhaps I may get you a chair while you are waiting?”
The hotel porter had noticed the special pin of Fesel’s collar, which identified him as being a part of the Foreign Service. The extended offer of superior service was motivated by a fact every worker at the Kaiserhoff knew – that foreigners and those of the Foreign Service gave the best tips.
“No, thank-you, I shouldn’t be long.”
Recruited into the Foreign Intelligence by Walter Schellenberg, Fesel worked in Section VI of the Reichsicherheithauptamt (RSHA), and was responsible for Krafft and his wife while they were in Berlin. Fesel, an amateur astrologer very familiar with Krafft’s work and family background, were the two factors for his being assigned to watch the famous Swiss astrologer and his wife while they were in Berlin.
Immediately after Fesel had said he wouldn’t be long, a taxi coasted up with the expected passengers. He turned and grinned to the porter, who nodded back as if to acknowledge his clairvoyance statement. Fesel walked up the car to greet his guests.
“Welcome Herr Krafft!”
“Thank-you.” Karl Ernst was not expecting a personal welcome, but was also not surprised. He had observed over the years that the Third Reich could be very caring… when they wanted you. “And how are you Herr…?
“Fesel. Dr. Heinrich Fesel. We met once in Mannheim when you lectured our group… but that was a long, long time ago. Please, call me Heinrich.”
“Ah, yes, Heinrich.” Krafft said it as if the name and title jogged his brain into remembering the brief encounter.
“…and this must be Elaine! Madame, you are even more beautiful than the photograph they gave me to recognize you!” Elaine grit her teeth and looked down at the sidewalk. While indeed a compliment, the comment also signaled the party had more than files and photographs of you – and perhaps more information one is not aware of.
“I’m sure you both would like to freshen up, and perhaps have some lunch?”
“Yes, that would be nice.”
“Fine, I’ll make sure the rest of your luggage from the station gets to your room, and then I’ll be back here at two thirty to go over a few things before our meeting on the 17th. Did you get a chance to look at some of the samples we sent you?”
“Yes, of course.” The answer hinted that even more was done than just looking.
“Good, good! I myself am very anxious to see what you have come up with. You know, Herr Krafft, I am a big admirer of your work!”
“Is that so?”
“Yes, besides having read all your books, I also subscribe to your Economic Bulletin… most intriguing! Your accuracy and insight is truly amazing!”
While it was a tendency for Fesel to flatter his guests – even personal ones in his home – he was playing up to Krafft a bit more than usual for professional reasons. Fesel’s intelligence profile of Krafft had the important bit of information that Krafft tended to be gullible to praise, especially celebrity worship from those interested in his field.
“And I am truly amazed concerning your department… Herr… Heinrich.” All three entered an empty elevator. “Simply a stroke of genius to use Nostradamus as an ally for our cause. Who was it that did that interpretation of Quatrain III, 57 passage?”
Fesel put his hand on Krafft’s arm and leaned in closer. Even though they were alone in the elevator, he whispered the answer as of to stress the secrecy of the matter.
“It was Goebbels’ wife!”
“No!”
“Yes! She was reading the 5th edition of C. Loog’s book just after the outbreak of the war and saw the relationship with the passage!”
“Unbelievable!” Karl Ernst was indeed impressed with Frau Goebbels’ insight, yet at the same time was a bit ashamed he – the renowned expert on Nostradamus – didn’t see the parallel between this passage and the events that occurred on the 1st of September.
“I can understand using the text to place the time, but how did she place Bastarnan as being Poland?”
“My dear Krafft, one of Frau Goebbels many talents is history. I was told that while reading the passage she was immediately aware of the fact that an ancient Greek writer named Tacitus had described a Germanic tribe called the Bastarnan. They first appeared on the lower Danube around 200 BC, then later settled to the east of the Vistula River, which is present day Poland.
Karl Ernst swallowed his pride as the elevator opened its doors. Walking to his room he then realized the important lesson in this new piece of information: In order to interpret Nostradamus correctly, understanding the place where an event occurred was just as important as calculating the time of described event. Timing events was Krafft’s specialty.
When events will happen, were after all, the most often sought after questions people had for astrologers. It was rare indeed anyone ever requested where they would occur. Frau Goebbels had already taught Karl Ernst a valuable lesson.
Otto already had the door open as Bettina exited the elevator.
“I’m glad you’re still up.” She said, skipping through the huge white door with black trim. The tiny one room flat was in its usual cluttered state, with kilometers of wire and radio parts resting on anything with a flat surface.
“I’m glad you’re off early.” Mimicked Otto in the same tone of voice, as he shut the door behind her. “Are you hungry?”
“Just a little.” Bettina gave her usual reply, meaning she would be happy with whatever was already cooked or convenient, so she could quickly eat and then get to bed.
“I have just the thing!” Otto followed her with a plate of fruit, cream cheese and an assortment of bread slices. Although food was available in Goebbels’ office at anytime, she never felt comfortable eating there.
“Rough day with the Herr Minister?”
“No, he’s actually in a good mood… and has been for several days.”
“Hmmm… that’s rare.”
“No kidding, but enough about work…” Bettina mumbled while finishing a grape, “…kiss me.”
Nothing more was said after they embraced. Usually Otto would go through her briefcase and photograph as much as he could after she fell asleep. But being Bettina demanded his full attention and strength for this evening, he too fell into a deep sleep after they both exhausted each other.
Sex, then, would also be a factor in the lack of British Intelligence’s awareness over what the astrologer Karl Ernst Krafft was working on for the Third Reich.