The Madagaskar Plan by Guy Saville

Author:Guy Saville
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780805095968
Publisher: Henry Holt and Co.

PART III

MADAGASKAR

All attempts to create a sovereign Jewish nation must be eliminated. At the same time it is necessary to prevent any objections to this, especially those coming from the USA.

—“MADAGASKAR-PROJEKT,”

15 August 1940

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

Tana airport

20 April, 06:15

WALTER HOCHBURG WAS sketching a new Schädelplatz, hoping to ward off the despondency that had crept hold of him. It was the despondency that always accompanied success.

He sat in the cabin of his private jet, eager to leave before the explosive device he had planted aboard the Ark was discovered. The plane was a converted Junkers Ju-387 bomber: white leather seats, air as cool and dry as aerosol vapor. Through the window, the wings shimmered steel blue and gold as the sun sneaked over the hills of Tana; a ground crew busied themselves with fuel hoses. The Jewish scientists he’d spent the last forty hours scouring the island for were being loaded into the hold. All he needed now to possess his superweapon was patience, and yet with his hunt on Madagaskar at an end, the loss he’d spent a lifetime trying to dampen felt present again. Each triumph only made him yearn for the next distraction.

He drew in the notebook he’d given Feuerstein, using precise, confident pen strokes. His draftsmanship came from his days as a cartographer, dispatching secret maps of British Africa to Berlin. This new Schädelplatz would be a fortress built on a scale not yet envisioned on the continent: turrets thrusting into the sky like the towers of a fairy-tale castle, a deep catacomb of offices below, the walls so thick tank shells would barely dent them. At its heart, instead of a quadrangle, he planned a great circle of skulls. Not twenty thousand this time—a hundred thousand. Concentric rings of nigger bone, then British and Belgian skulls and all the breeds of men who defied his rule. The outer rim would be reserved for the disbelievers among his own ranks. Once Feuerstein delivered, Hochburg would oversee the construction himself.

A sudden idea possessed Hochburg. His dissatisfaction vanished, replaced by a cold rapture.

At the center of the circle he inked a black hole, out of scale with the rest of the drawing, like the vortex of a whirlpool. He had intended to fill it with the skull he’d salvaged from the original square in Kongo—but that could be put behind glass in his private collection. A more gratifying alternative had come to mind.

Feuerstein emerged from the steps that led to the hold and locked the door behind himself. Hochburg had given the scientist the key and ordered him to travel above: that would establish his authority over the others while creating a seedbed for potential resentments, something that might prove useful later. Feuerstein lingered by the chair opposite, his hands plucking at the pockets of his trousers. He wore a mouse-gray suit that once belonged to a teenager but was ample for his frame. A razor blade had exposed coarse jowls.

“You don’t have to wait to be asked,” said Hochburg, not looking up from his sketch.

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