The Book of Lies - Brad Meltzer [92]
Maybe the monks were afraid of the power. The Leadership had no such problems. And apparently, in a lightning bolt of good fortune, neither did Mitchell Siegel.
It took years for the Leadership to recover from the massacre with the Russians. But as with a broken bone, injury and healing made it stronger. By 1917, the Thules widened their net, attracting over 250 followers. By 1918, they incorporated the ancient and powerful swastika into their coat of arms. And in 1919, they attracted the eye of a young failed painter named Adolf Hitler. A man who desperately wanted to be somebody. And who wasn’t afraid of power.
Was it any surprise that Mein Kampf was dedicated to Thule member Dietrich Eckart? Or that Hitler credited Thule elder Dr. Friedrich Krohn with designing the swastika flag that the Nazis adopted?
Under Hitler, many Thules—Heinrich Himmler and Rudolf Hess among them—were absorbed into the highest positions of the Nazi Party. But even as their political power grew, the Leadership never lost sight of what had been stolen. Or how it might be found.
In 1930, they made their first contact with a dissatisfied member of the United States’ new Bureau of Investigation. By 1932, they had Mikhel Segalovich’s new name and address. And today, over a century later, Ellis was finally ready to finish what his family had begun.
“You related to Ms. Molina?” the Hispanic woman asked, flipping through her clipboard.
“She’s my wife,” Ellis replied.
“Exam room E. Third curtain on the right.”
It’d been well over an hour since Cal and his dad had run from the house. Ellis knew they were long gone. But Naomi was a different story. Ellis had seen the blood running down the side of her face. A wound like that needed a hospital. And if Ellis was right, finding Naomi would also help him find the Prophet. Indeed, maybe she was the Prophet.
It was simple math. When Cal and Naomi left the museum, there were only four people who knew that the group was headed back to the Siegel house: Cal knew. Naomi knew. Plus Lloyd and the woman. Serena. Four people. And since the Prophet knew, the Prophet had to be one of them.
All along, Ellis assumed it was the trickster: Cal’s father. But when he saw the group on the stairs—when he saw Naomi being carried by Cal . . . and her earpiece dangling downward . . . Her phone. The earpiece.
There it was.
Her earpiece.
Such a simple way for someone to overhear.
Naturally, Ellis didn’t want to jump to conclusions. But if Naomi was reporting in—whether to stay safe or just get information—Ellis’s math was wrong. There weren’t just four people who knew that Cal was headed back to the Siegel house. There were five. And if that was the case, well . . . Ellis had to know: Who the hell was Naomi speaking to when she was talking into that earpiece?
“It’s me!” a familiar female voice shouted angrily from the corner of the emergency room. “Where the hell you been, Scotty?”
Following the sound, Ellis turned to his right and stared at the closed blue curtain that was now just a few feet in front of him. Scotty. The only other person who heard everything was Scotty. Scotty heard what was happening. Scotty knew what was coming. Scotty knew it all in advance. Like an oracle. Or a seer. Or a prophet.
“Scotty, can you hear me? Where you been!?” Naomi yelled.
Ellis nodded to himself.
That was a damn good question for Scotty.
60
It’s always Nazis, isn’t it?” Naomi asked into her earpiece, lying flat on the gurney and trying hard not to move.
“Ma’am, can you please put down the phone?” the young nurse pleaded as he tugged on the forceps and threaded another stitch through the cut on Naomi’s temple.
“I told you: federal business,” Naomi said.
“They’re not Nazis,” Scotty clarified through the phone. “Back then, they called themselves the Thule Society.”
“But you said they helped bring Hitler to power— Ahh, that stings!”
“Put the phone down,” the nurse again insisted as Naomi made a face.
“I don’t know,” Scotty