“Humanity is capable of any atrocity,” she said. “But when you understand the extent of this cruelty, the unprecedented viciousness, the immense scale of the horror, it seems beyond the power of mere people to conceive and execute. It seems demonic.”
When the old woman fell silent, Bibi took it upon herself to bring the teapot to the table and refresh their cups. As she did so, she was overcome by a feeling of having performed this act before, not just the pouring of tea, but pouring from this same pot, in this very kitchen. The moment of déjà vu quickly passed. Because she didn’t know what to make of it, she could only put it aside for consideration later.
By the time Bibi returned to her chair, she thought she knew what Dr. St. Croix would have come here to ask. Perhaps she shared with the professor a need to know what supernatural power it was that the man called Terezin possessed.
“I’ve heard that Hitler was into the occult,” Bibi said. “In all your reading, in your experience, have you found that to be true? Is there any book in your collection you could show me, that might—”
Raising one hand to indicate that there was no need to prowl the extensive shelves, Halina said, “I’ve been blessed or cursed—I’m not sure which—with an eidetic memory. Whatever I dump into my mind stays there, and I have perfect recall. That sounds neat and orderly, but it’s definitely not. Everything is stuffed in there everywhichway. Sometimes I need a minute to sort through it….”
Bibi waited, watching as the old woman sipped her second cup of tea.
At last Halina said, “Hitler was a bit of a pagan, but not entirely that. A vegetarian. He would not allow mice to be killed when they invaded his house in numbers. He believed that the fatherland, German land, had a mystical power that could be drawn upon by the volk, the people of pure German blood. He wasn’t a Christian, could not be one, because of Christianity’s roots in Judaism, so the layered occult system that grew from Christianity—angels, demons, witches, séances, all of that and more—was of no interest to him. But the idea that there was mystical power in German earth and that the pure-blooded volk could draw upon it to become supermen…that is indisputably an occult concept.”
Bibi said, “It didn’t work out well for him.”
“I’m not a big believer in most things occult,” Halina said. “But I do believe the world is a more mysterious place than we often recognize—or care to admit. If there is some strange natural power in the earth under us, some magnetic current yet undiscovered, and if there are individuals who can tap it, then they’re probably those men we say have charisma. Not silly movie stars and singers, not the cheap charisma of entertainers. I’m speaking now of those with great charisma, the power to infect enormous numbers of others with their ego-driven fantasies. Hitler. Stalin. Mao.”
Although Bibi had added sweetener to her second cup, she wasn’t enjoying the tea. She slid it aside.
Halina said, “The Hindu saint Ramakrishna said that when a man becomes a saint, followers swarm to him as wasps to honey. Because he had to become holy to achieve his charisma, a saint won’t misuse that power, that control over others. But if a common man, a volk, with no saintly quality, with in fact an inflated ego, a narcissist, should tap into this magnetic current or whatever, he could draw legions to him…and lead the world to ruin.”
Bibi was disappointed. “And that’s the extent of his occult leanings? The mystical power of German land? You never read anything about him being interested in any kind of divination?”
“No.”
“He was never intrigued by séances, mediums, ceromancy, halomancy, necromancy, that kind of thing?”
“Not to my knowledge. But I am not the world’s primary expert on Adolf Hitler.”
From her purse, Bibi withdrew the electronic key attached to the Lucite fob. Indicating the encased wasp, she said, “Something about this feels occult to me.”
Halina Berg’s eyes widened. She fisted her hands as if to prevent herself from reaching for—and touching—the exotic object. “A wasp in the posture of stinging,” the old woman said, “was the official symbol they chose for themselves, just the unit of the Schutzstaffel garrisoned at Theresienstadt.”
“Schutzstaffel? The SS?”
“Hitler’s praetorian guard, shock troops, his supreme instrument of terror. The primary symbol of the SS was a death’s head. But the unit running Theresienstadt likened itself to Der Führer’s Wespe, his wasp, the sting behind his policies and directives. The camp commandant had the image on his door.”
Returning the key and the wasp to her purse, Bibi said, “I’m sorry if I’ve distressed you.”
Halina opened her fisted hands and then closed them around her cooling cup of tea. “It’s just a thing, a bug in plastic, it should not disturb me. It’s only a coincidence anyway, a novelty key chain. It has nothing to do with Theresienstadt.” She took a sip of her bitter tea. “The fools never seemed to realize they were comparing themselves to an insect.”