Pointing at a distant mountain peak, Himmler asked Wilson if he knew what it was. When Wilson shook his head, he said, 'That mountain is the Untersberg. According to legend, the Emperor Charlemagne still sleeps there and will one day rise again to restore the past glory of the German Empire. I believe that day has come that our Fhrer is the reincarnation of Charlemagne and will return us to glory.'

Removing his gaze from the distant mountain, he looked at Wilson through his glittering pince-nez. Wilson, who knew that Himmler was mad, also knew not to smile.

'Now look down there,' Himmler said, pointing with his index finger, then sweeping his hand from east to west, to indicate the vast, snow-covered valley. 'Other than the villages and towns, what do you see?'

'Just the snow-covered earth,' Wilson said.

'Exactly,' Himmler said. 'And when war comes and we move underground, that is all you will still see: just the snow-covered earth.'

Wilson grasped instantly what the lunatic was driving at.... The dream of the Thousand Year Reich had been born out of mysticism: the Cosmic Circle of Munich; the Anthroposophy of Rudolph Steiner; the Theosophy and Rosicrucianism of Vienna and Prague; a belief in Lemuria and Atlantis, ice and fire, Man as Superman... Yes, he grasped what Himmler was thinking and now knew without doubt that he could use him.

'You despise the weaknesses of mankind, don't you?' Himmler said, staring steadily at him.

'Yes,' Wilson confessed.

'And like me, you believe in the evolution of the human race, from Man into Superman.'

'Yes,' Wilson agreed, though he conceived of a superior race based on science, rather than a race of so-called Supermen based on the mystic strength of the Volk and other romantic, idiotic German theories.

'Do you know of the theories of the great Austrian cosmologist, Hans Hrbiger?' Himmler asked, his gaze unnaturally steady behind the glittering pince-nez.

'I don't believe so,' Wilson lied. Actually he was fully cognizant of the fact that Himmler revered the so-called unorthodox, obviously mad, Austrian cosmologist's theories on the birth of the universe and the destiny of Nordic man, but he didn't want Himmler to realize that he had checked him out and now knew so much about him.

'A great man,' Himmler said reverently. 'A man despised by the scientific fraternity of his day for speaking the truth.'

'I'm sorry,' Wilson said hesitantly, carefully. 'I just don't know '

'No,' Himmler said abruptly. 'Naturally not. They would not have taught you his theories in the United States of America where, as even you know, the truth is rarely respected.'

'He was a cosmologist?' Wilson asked, as if confused.

'Yes,' Himmler replied. 'Hrbiger's theory is that the ma.s.s of free matter in the universe takes the form of frozen ice, that chunks of this ice periodically fall into stars and cause immense explosions, which in turn form planetary systems, and that since the world is formed from ice and the fiery explosions they cause ice and fire, you understand?

it is the natural heritage of Nordic men.' He glanced sideways, as if expecting a reply, and receiving none, continued melodramatically: 'Yes, Nordic men! German men! And Hrbiger believed that a return to such a world would eventually lead to men who were G.o.ds...' Mercifully, at that moment he turned away to survey the snow-covered valley. 'A world of eternal ice,' he whispered portentously. 'A world under the earth!'

Quietly exalted by his vision, he turned away from the window, crossed to the centre of the vast room, then faced Wilson again.

'You are a man obsessed,' he said, 'so I know you will understand me. I do not envisage my SS as a commonplace police force, but as a religious order devoted to the creation of the Superman. Indeed, right from the start it has been my intention to eventually isolate the elite of the SS from the world of ordinary men for the rest of their lives. It is also my intention to create special colonies of this elite all over the world, answerable only to the administration and authority of this new order. My first step in the creation of this new elite was to create my special schools in the mountains of Bavaria, where the finest of the SS are indoctrinated in my ideals and convinced that they are men far finer and more valuable than the world has yet seen. My second step was the creation of the Ahnenerbe the Inst.i.tute for Research into Heredity whose function is to finance and publish Germanic researches and to supervise the anthropological medical experiments on the inmates of the concentration camps. And my third and most important step is the Lebensborn Spring of Life which will, through the controlled mating of elite SS men and pure, Aryan women, breed out all imperfect traits from the German character and physique within one hundred years.'

He walked across the vast room, his footsteps echoing eerily, then stopped directly in front of Wilson, to stare calmly at him.

'And while all of this is happening,' he asked, 'where will I isolate the elite of my SS?'

Wilson turned to the side, to nod in the direction of the snowcovered valley below. 'In a world of eternal ice,' he said. 'A world under the earth.'

'Yes!' Himmler whispered. 'Correct! But not here. Not in Germany.' He walked to the window, pressed the palm of his hand against the gla.s.s and then turned back to Wilson. 'Our beloved Fhrer is anxious for a foothold in the Antarctic,' he said. 'For this reason., he is sending an expedition, commanded by Captain Alfred Richter, to the coast due south of South America. From there, seaplanes will be catapulted from the deck of our aircraft carrier Schwabenland with orders to fly back and forth across the territory that Norwegian explorers had arrogantly named Queen Maud Land. It is our intention to make a far more thorough study of the area than the Norwegians had done, to photograph as much of the area as possible, and to then claim the land for the Third Reich. When that is done, Herr Wilson, we will do there what we are about to do here and all over Germany: build underground quarters for the elite of my secret order and the slave labour necessary for our purposes.'

Wilson saw the insane grandeur of the concept even though he knew it would never work. Then, even as he was formulating his own secret plans, Himmler approached him, took hold of his shoulders, and shook him with a rare display of emotion.

'Do you now understand, Herr Wilson, why I'm so interested in you? I will create the perfect man, you will create the perfect machine, and between us we can create a perfect society under the ice. Hrbiger's world of ice and fire turned into reality! My perfect men, your pitiless science, and all the slave labour we require. This is what yon are here for!' He turned away to wave his right hand, indicating the snow-white earth, the hazy horizon, and the unseen Antarctic... 'Your flying saucer will take us there and protect us and finally give us dominion. Now let us go back down.'

Wilson, seeing his dream forged by a madman, followed Himmler out of the Berghof and back down the mountainside.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN After eight weeks at sea, with another seven to go, Ernst had a craving for dry land that made a mockery of reason. Anch.o.r.ed in the South Atlantic Ocean, near the South Sandwich Islands, the Schwabewland, the command ship of the expeditionary fleet, had become his prison and home, always swaying and creaking. For most of the three weeks they were at anchor, Ernst's sole view of Antarctica was of distant white peaks in a constant, sun-streaked haze beneath an azure sky as, on behalf of Himmler, he supervised the ruthless takeover of Norway's Queen Maud Land.

Daily for three weeks, two seaplanes had been catapulted from the deck of the fleet's aircraft carrier, to fly back and forth across those frozen wastelands, photograph the area, and, as ordered, drop thousands of sharp-tipped steel poles, all weighted at the tip to make them dig into the ice, with small swastikas attached to the other end. The thought of covering a vast expanse of the Antarctic with swastikas attached to steel poles seemed slightly idiotic, even comical, to Ernst, but he had his duty to perform and did it commendably, keeping his face straight, keeping his eye on his men, and receiving the film they brought back after taking aerial photographs of that same vast, icy, largely uncharted wilderness.

Surprisingly, they had found many areas free of ice, which is what Himmler had told Ernst he was particularly interested in.

He'll be pleased, Ernst thought sourly.

Divorced from dry land and the world he had known so well, with little to do other than keep his eye on the men, Ernst spent too much time thinking about what he had lost his engineering career, then Ingrid's love and respect and brooding bitterly about how he was being used as a disciplinarian when he should have been working on Projekt Saucer with that oddly unfeeling American genius, Wilson.

G.o.d, yes! The American and Projekt Saucer... Already, it all seemed so far away, beyond the ever-distant, constantly changing horizon, first shrouded in mist, then azure blue and silver striations of light, then blood that boiled out of the sun and poured over the ocean.

Ernst recalled it with disbelief and undeniable pride, since it had been, after all, his first journey away from home: the eerily gray Baltic Sea and the sickening swells of the English Channel, then the grim coastline of France, the white-walled houses on the cliffs of Portugal, giving way to the volcanic peaks of the Canary Islands and the yellow, sun-hazed ribbon of Morocco... He had never been there, had not walked on foreign soil, and felt the loss more acutely, with a pain that surprised him, when the South Atlantic Ocean surrounded him, blue and green, its waves white-capped, offering a different light, more subtle colours, alien creatures, as the boat ploughed through darkening waters into shadows cast by towers of gleaming ice.