Lammas Night by Katherine Kurtz

penetrated Himmler’s Section VII, which was a rough counterpart to Graham’s. His first few reports had outlined the expected array of occult and psychic phenomena being investigated by the Third Reich for possible wartime application: the astrological warfare connected with the Nostradamus operation, mental telepathy to influence the enemy, pendulum dowsing over maps to locate enemy shipping. The new material treated even more serious matters.
    Himmler’s agents had begun a crackdown on occult practitioners who did not put their talents at the disposal of the Third Reich. Any group with a potentially mystical or esoteric orientation was suspect. Former Freemasons, odd religious sects, astrologers not sanctioned by the Nazi party, occult lodges and study groups, gypsies—all fell under the scrutiny of Himmler’s black brotherhood. Some of those who agreed to turn their talents to the support of the fatherland were courted and brought into the Nazi fold; but those who would not or who belonged to groups singled out for elimination were ruthlessly rounded up and never seen again. Graham recognized the names of several once-powerful occultists on the list of the missing that Michael’s contact provided. It was grim confirmation that the Third Reich took the entire matter of the occult very seriously.
    Most disturbing of all were the copies of astrological charts and interpretations that Michael himself had managed to secure. Many of the highest echelons of the Nazi high command were represented, including the Führer himself, and even a few Allied personalities such as Churchill and the King. These charts showed subtle differences from a similar set smuggled out six months before—an entirely new hand now involved in the interpretations, far more competent and frighteningly more subtle than previously. Two of Graham’s analysts independently concurred: if Himmler or even one of the other lesser lights of the Nazi court had engaged an astrologer of this caliber to advise the Führer, it could make a great deal of difference. The man went by the professional name of der Rote Adler —the Red Eagle.
    â€œHe’s good—too bloody good, if you ask me,” Grumbaugh confided in the privacy of Graham’s office, pushing his glasses on top of his balding head as he spread an array of texts before his boss. “What especially worries me is that I’m not certain he’s only an astrologer.”
    â€œOh?”
    Grumbaugh shook his head, scowling. “Something in the back of my mind connects him with those satanist lodges we’ve been hearing about. If he’s that good an astrologer, what if he’s also a first-rate black magician? This is just sheerest speculation on my part, but suppose he turned out to be the same masked chap who’s been showing up at secret meetings of the Vril and the Thule Gesellschaft , fanning up support? Several items in the Section VII material suggest such a connection. Take a look at these passages I’ve marked.”
    While Grumbaugh perched on the corner of the desk and paged through the references, pointing out specific items, Graham skimmed them with growing suspicion. The Vril Society and the Thule Gesellschaft —German occult orders spawned at the time, of the Great War from roots of the old Germanenorden —were violently racist and anti-Semitic. The Thule Group had provided all forty of the original members of the New German Workers’ Party, which eventually brought Hitler to power, and had been financed in turn by the high command. Hitler was believed to be an initiate of the Thule Group’s inner core, whose orientation was markedly satanic. No one knew how far the Thulist web extended.
    But as Grumbaugh guided Graham through the evidence, the overwhelming image that kept coming to Graham’s mind was the mysterious Sturm. When they had finished, Graham tilted back in his chair thoughtfully.
    He had