Selected Detective
ANTIQUE SHOP

The Jean-Michel Dupont antique shop is located on a quiet, winding Street in the center of Toulouse, just a few hundred meters from the blast of the red walls of Basilique St. The spectacular Sernin, whose bell tower tip can be seen on a ceramic-covered roof, is like a lighthouse towering over the sea with choppy orange waves.

As agreed, Layla arrived at 1:30 p.m. After pausing for a moment in front of the shop, with a window filled with various objects and fading marks announcing the LA PETITE MAISON DES CURIOSITES, he opened the glass door and stepped inside, a bell clinked loudly above his head.

From the inside of the shop was the smell of cigarette smoke and polish. The situation was crowded by a heap of various confusing objects, everything from furniture to books, paintings to fragmentary, porcelain to braso ornaments, etc, although in the end the pile of collections looked like military nature. There was a tailor doll dressed in brocade uniform; a shelf containing a pet hat and a helmet; and on one wall, flanked on both sides by stuffing bears and panels of glass windows, stood a long closet full of bayonets and a gun.

“Vous desirez quelque chose?”

A fat man emerged from the back of the shop, dressed in corduroy and the outerwear of a traditional Breton farmer. His shoulder-length hair and goat-like beard were decorated with a few strands of gray hair. A semi-circular spectacle hung around his neck with a gold chain; a freshly smoked cigarette was half tucked between the fingers of his right hand stained with nicotine. With a fat sagging under his chin and a moody expression, he was like a big police dog.

“Monsieur Dupont?”

“Oui.” Layla introduces herself, speaking in French. He nodded in recognition and, by slipping his cigarette in the corner of his mouth, stepped forward and shook Layla's hand, took her around the counter and climbed up through the narrow, creaking stairs leading to the first floor. He stopped there for a moment, slipped his head through a curtain of beads and had a conversation with someone in the room there “Ibuku,” he explained, “ia will keep the store while we talk” then head to the second floor, where she opens the heavy wooden door and takes it inside her study room which occupies the entire floor of the building. The bookcase is attached to two walls, the counter of the workplace on the third wall, which is filled with equipment Hard-drive computers, monitor screens, key-pads, floppy piles and CDs. On the fourth wall, the furthest from Layla, there was a large display cabinet with glass on its front just as he had seen in the store downstairs.

Dupont asked if he wanted coffee, and when Layla answered yes, he walked to the counter and started busying himself with an electric kettle. Layla waited at the door; then curiously, she began to walk around the room, research first one of the bookshelves of the mixture between the antique dealer manual and the history of the Third Regime (Third Reich) and then to the cabinets that are on the wall there.

At first glance it seemed like this space contained a common military collection like the one on display below, and only a short while after that he realized, with a slight tremble, it was a little shaky, that in fact this store stores specifically a collection of items Nazi Military Medals, Bayonets, photos, objects attached to uniforms. On one shelf was a row of iron crosses with red, white and black ribbons; on another shelf a line of dagger blades, each with a twin SS badge on the handle and the MEIN EHRE HEISST TREUE legend on the blade.

“Honorary dagger SS,” clear Dupont, emerges from behind Layla and gives her a cup containing coffee.

“My honor is loyalty.”

“You sell these items?” layla asked while receiving the cup.

“No, no. doing that in France is against the law. It's just a personal hobby. You disagree?”

He shrugged his shoulders. “This is not something I want to be in my house. With existing moral connotations.” He smiles. “My interest, I assure you, pure is aesthetic. I no longer sympathize with the activities of the Third Regime (Third Reich) than collectors, say Roman Artifacts sympathizing with the weakness of civilization in terms of slavery and crucifixion. It's the skills that interest me, not the ideology. That and its historical context. After all they were all important artifacts. When you know more about his background, you will also be interested.” He shrugged his shoulders again, unsure.

“You don't trust me? come, I show you something.” He takes Layla to the end of the closet when the safe cabinet is attached to the wall. Turning his spinner around, he opened the cupboard and took out a small square box bound in black leather, lifted the lid and showed the contents to Layla. Inside, in velvet, there is a black metal cross with a beautiful silver handle in the form of oak leaves and crossed swords on top of it, the latter is coated again by what looks like a tiny diamond.

“Knight Crucifix with Oak Leaves, Sword and Diamond,” he explains. “Highest military honor of Nazi Germany. One of only twenty-seven pieces ever awarded, and only one was awarded for a non-combat role. It's worth more than all my other collections. More than anything else in this building when it's assembled as one. Probably also more than this building itself.” He paused for a moment, then added, “The recipient, I'm sure, must be the reason you came here today.”

Layla looked up, her eyes enlarged. “Not ... Dieter Hoth?” He nodded.

“How can you get this?” Layla asked, taking a step forward and looking at the medal.

“Long and boring story,” he replied, sambal move his cigarette. “And I don't want to waste your time by telling it. I just want to say that the most important thing is, now that you know the context, you'll also be interested, even if you don't want to. The fact that Hoth himself is a very unpleasant man, you know, you know, you're also interested, unimportant. You are interested in the story, and therefore inevitably also interested in the material left of the story. Moral considerations do not fall into this equation.”

“So, what exactly do you want to know about our friend Dr Hoth?” he asked, his head tilted to one side while reading the title of the book.

“Basically, anything you can tell me about what he did in Castelombres,” Layla replied, putting down his coffee mug and reaching into his bag. “According to Magnus Topping, you have done a great deal of research on that subject.” He pulled out his notebook and pen, then sat down.

“I also want to ask about footnotes in the article you wrote for the web, which associates Hoth with a man named William De Relincourt.”

Dupont nodded, continuing his search with his fingers on the back of the book on the shelf before pulling out a volume of books and blowing dust on the cover of his face. He opened the page, then approached and gave the book to Layla.

“Dieter Hoth,” said, pointing to a rough black and white photo. “One of the few pictures there is about it.” A tall and handsome man was looking at him, with thin cheeks, deep-colored eyes as well as a long, curved nose. He was dressed in a Nazi official uniform with twin-linked lightning shining on his collar.

“Hoth join SS?” yukie, surprised.

“Ahnenerbe,” Reply Dupont. “That you might call the brain SS. He's an archaeologist. Very smart.headed department Ahnenerbe egypt.”

Layla was surprised. “He's an expert on egypt?”

“A egyptian archaeologist might be more appropriate. But, yes, egypt is his specialty area.”

“So what made him do the excavation in the south of France?” Dupont was stunned, sounding a deep throat like a car engine that began to light up.

“Inciting questions. And that has never, as far as I know, been satisfactorily answered by anyone.” He smoked his cigarette for the last time and, while walking to his work area, threw the cigarette into the ashtray and lifted his body into a moving wooden chair. From somewhere above they heard the pigeon's decur and the friction of the claws on the ceramic.they were silent for quite a long time.

“To understand Hoth's career, you have to appreciate the extent to which the Nazis are obsessed with history,” said this French man finally. “For Hitler and his friends, it is not enough that the Third Regime should be a military force. Like all authoritarian regimes, and emphasizing they want to do justification and validation of their power by wrapping it up in an aura of historical legitimacy

He pulled a small flat lead out of his pocket, and took out the next cigarette and lit it.

“From this exposure, archaeology and archaeologists, play an important role in that process. Himmler realized its significance. In 1935 he established Das Ahnenerbe, the Society of Ancestral Heritage (Ancestral Heritage Society), a specialized department within the SS responsible for finding materials to support German historic supremacist ideals. expeditions are carried out all over the world to Iran, Greece, Egypt, Tibet.”

“To dig?”

“Partially, yes. Himmler was appointed to open up evidence that the German Aryan culture was not only confined to northern Europe but was in fact the main driving force behind all modern civilization. However, the Ahnenerbe also stole, seizing it on an unprecedented scale, shipping thousands, tens of thousands of artifacts, back to Berlin for the greater splendor of the Third Regime. If they are obsessed with the past, the Nazis are too when it comes to the remnants of the past. Because, of course if you control the remains, you will control history itself.”

“And Hoth?” tanyakanya. “How did he get into all this?”

“Yahh, as I said, he's a brilliant archaeologist. He was also a loyal and enthusiastic supporter of the Nazi Party, his father, an industrialist, Ludwig Hoth, was a close friend of Goebbels. So, it was only a matter of time before junior Hoth was asked or volunteered, we were not sure of using his skills to the advantage of the Nazi machine. He was only twenty-three years old when Ahnenerbe was formed, but Himmler had personally appointed him head of the Egyptian unit, with a short talk to excavate and seize as many ancient Egyptian artifacts as possible.” Dupont pulled out his cigarette, wiggling his hand in front of his face to drive away the gray-blue tobacco smoke.