The Alchemist’s Code by Martin Rua Page B

Reich’s most desired SS officers – by women and by men. And Friedrich Müller was no exception.
    There were several reasons why Henri von Tschoudy had been given charge of that particular mission. His extensive knowledge, the legacy of his name and his personal involvement in what had been secretly called Operation Outremer, had conferred upon him the honour – and the burden. It was in particular his total devotion to the Third Reich and the Führer which had convinced the Nazi leaders to entrust him with the delicate task of guarding the artefact until it reached its final destination. The temporary site chosen to accommodate it was, ironically, one of the icons of those that the Nazis had tried to exterminate: the new synagogue in the heart of the Mitte district.
    As soon as the precious cargo had arrived in Berlin, however, the bombing of the Allies and their advance on German soil had suggested that this was not the right time to move it, so Von Tschoudy and his small group would remain to protect that secret until further notice, even though, as more of Germany collapsed by the day under the blows of the Allies, it became clear that the order would never come, or would come too late. The only thing that might have saved the Reich – the powerful atomic bomb – was now an unobtainable delusion, and although the secret that Von Tschoudy had been called to guard was the only way to resurrect the moribund regime it seemed that the Reich was no longer able to make vital decisions.
    Müller looked down in embarrassment.
    â€œWell, nothing is certain any more Captain,” he said, looking for an excuse to continue talking to his superior. “Insofar as we can consider ourselves luckier than our other comrades who continue to die in combat, how long can we continue like this? How much time have we got left before a bomb sweeps us away or our enemies invade Berlin from all sides?”
    Müller realized too late that he had confessed his doubts to his superior – doubts that he should have kept to himself.
    However, although Von Tschoudy’s face had stiffened he answered without resentment. “We have chosen to serve the Reich until the end, sergeant, and that is what we will do. Our job is to stay here, hoping to complete the second part of this mission. We must allow what happens around us to affect us only up to a certain point. As long as the Führer is alive and his will is that we stay here, this is what we must do.”
    â€œYes, Captain—”
    Müller was about to add something else, but the sudden roar of a plane froze the words in his throat. Von Tschoudy’s face suddenly darkened and his deep eyes scanned the dark sky above them for a moment, in search of the bombers.
    â€œThere they are again. Let’s get out of here,” said the captain, just before a bomb fell out from the night sky and crashed a few blocks away. A second later, a cloud of pulverized rubble hit them, and the two rapidly fled the building.
    â€œInto the basement, Müller, come on.”
    As they crossed the great nave of the synagogue, which was cluttered with rubble after the devastation of Kristallnacht and the bombing of 1943, another bomb fell nearby and shook what was left of the building. The shockwave caused by the bombardment was so violent they could hardly stand up, and they only reached the entrance to the cellars with difficulty. There they found the soldier who was standing guard.
    â€œYou all right, Bauer?”
    â€œYes, Captain – just a bit of dust.”
    The stocky Bauer was cut from an entirely different cloth than the puny Müller, and would never have shown the slightest trace of fear or doubt. Moreover, growing up in the Bavarian Alps there was not much chance he would have taken up the study of German philology at the University of Frankfurt.
    â€œIf things get any worse, take cover in the hall or join us below. I don’t think there