Prologue - Unholy Pact

Dear Readers

This is a work of fiction. Some historical facts and figures have been used to suit my narrative. Any similarity to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. 

Here's to a new journey with Dr. Khushi Kumari Gupta and Agent Arnav Singh Raizada.

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January 9^th, 1940.

The tall pines stood quietly shivering in the cold rain. The snow refused to disappear as chilling rain muddied the cobbled streets winding through the alpine thicket. The motors came one at a time, each circling the decrepit circular fountain and stopping to unload its passengers in front of a crumbling mansion. The grey skies resented any remainders of cheer.

A fresh bout of flurry set the liveried servants scrambling to the entrance. Umbrellas were unfurled to protect the entrants, in quiet deference to the ominous event.  Words weren’t necessary as the arrivals gathered in the largest room of the mansion lining a long table. Men greeted each other with silent nods, the reality bearing heavy on their collective souls.

The head of the table remained empty as the guests gathered. Silver trays that had seen better days were freshly scrubbed and held cheeses and fruit, mostly ignored by the gathering. Wine goblets and water glasses were emptied with uncanny urgency as room provided little to no warmth against the alpine chill. A distant fireplace sputtered in hesitation, water logged wood failing to burn in time to help the cold affair.

“We need to start as soon as possible. Look, we can’t be waiting here, forever!” A portly man complained.

“Mr. Schmid will be here soon.” announced a tall doorman, quelling the growing irritation in the room.

A diminutive bald man with horn rimmed glasses carrying a business briefcase entered the room, shuffling his way through the long hall before reaching the head of the table. He was followed by what seemed like an assistant carrying yet more papers in binders. The small man thrust the briefcase on the table and looked up to face the gathering. The gathering fell quiet.

“Gentlemen, my apologies for the delay. I was unexpectedly delayed at the crossing by the Shutzstaffel (SS) guards. In any case, there is no cause for alarm. We have good friends in the right places. Please take your seats.”

The group of men seemed to settle down with his arrival. Servants appeared with refills of drinks and were quickly dismissed. The 30 feet roof echoed every little sound in the room. The two large doors creaked as doorman closed it shut.

“Well, let’s get to business then” the man rubbed his hands together, to fight his nervousness against the danger he could be inviting with the powerful men in the room. “Does everyone have their papers ready? Yes? Henri will come around and gather them.” he piped in his thick Swiss accent.

When the papers were gathered, Henri handed them to the small man who kept them in his briefcase. “And now let’s disperse the Sabres.” He signaled the wait staff who brought in eleven Sabres on eleven trays for each man in the room.

The Sabres were distributed as Mr. Schmid quietly watched the proceedings. As the men absorbed the details of the proceedings, one annoyed guest shouted, “Wait a minute. There should be twelve. What kind of trickery is this?” he rose from his chair thundering in the large room. Mr. Schmid shrank back in fear.

“Sit down!” commanded a portly elder. The angry man sat down his face showing his obvious distrust of the man at the head of the table, Mr. Schmid.

“It is as we had discussed, Your Highness. Eleven Sabres. The twelfth one was to be borne in simplicity. A sabre in spirit yet not quiet.” He signaled and a significantly smaller tray was brought in by another servant. He took a covered box and raised it to the gathering.

“This brings unity and holds it together. Without it, the Sabres are meaningless. Without Sabres this is meaningless. Together, they hold your power.” He raised the box and walked around the table to bestow it upon a man sitting under the dark shadows of torn draperies in the far corner of the room.

A murmur of approval sounded in the room as the tall, handsome man stood up, towering in his presence and accepted the box from Mr. Schmid.

“My pleasure, for my brethren, this burden I shall bear.” A hushed applause filled the room. The celebration was interrupted, with the uncanny sound of Jack boots hitting the cold stone floor of the mansion. The mighty doors creaked open to the protests of the gathered men.

The field grey uniforms and red arm bandannas with intertwined black S's were unmistakable. The Nazis! thought Mr.Schmid. Three SS officers appeared through the door causing a minor commotion in the room.

“Who invited them here!” protested one.
“Get them out!” shouted another.

"I can't be part of this!" growled another guest.

Mr Schmid’s voice rose uncharacteristically high for his small build, “Gentlemen, Please! Calm down! Let me explain.”

Henri rushed to the entrance and paid his allegiance to the new guests in the characteristic salute.

“Heil Hitler!” In quick movements, he pulled a chair and offered it to the leader of the SS officers. “Reichsfuhrer Zimmerman, Willkommen.” The SS officer accepted the chair and as he sat he scanned the room. He smirked with derision at the opulent and vain gathering of men.

“Please gentlemen, let me explain, take your seats.” The men settled and Mr.Schmid began.

“We cannot be doing this alone. We need protection.” His Swiss accent suddenly became thicker; a slight edge of fear ran through his spine. One wrong move or word could end it all for them right here in this room.

“We need them.” He continued.

“No, we don’t! Allied forces will wipe them out. And then what becomes of this arrangement.”

The SS officer snapped and stood up. Wagging his finger at the protesting voice he rasped in a low tone, “You underestimate the Fuhrer. We will win. Be with us and you shall be protected. Without us, you don’t have a chance." the threat in the subtext was not lost on them. Mr. Schmid broke into a cold sweat, he knew things could escalate out of control. He signaled the SS officer to sit down.

More arguments, debate and protests followed. Frustrated , the German stood up and hit the large table with his fist, grabbing everyone’s attention.

“Enough! You live in fool’s paradise. When Nazi Germany rules the world, you will thank us. Take it or leave it. We don’t lose. But you have a lot to lose.” He paused. “If I were you, I would think about it… very, very hard.” The menace was back. The men sensed it.

If there was one thing that brought these men together it was their absolute abhorrence and fear for weakness and vulnerability. It made them, in uncomfortable ways, very similar to the nefarious ideology that glared back at them. They could not deny it. 

An unholy pact was made. A future they envisioned was signed and secured. They would never have to fear weakness, loss or vulnerability. The SS were powerful and growing under the Nazi Germany. They offered protection freely in lieu of small collateral. What’s the worst they could do?