Selected Detective
ANTIQUE SHOP II

“Over the next three years, Hoth traveled throughout Egypt, apparently carrying out legitimate excavations under the clothing of Deutsche Orient-Gesselschaft, the capital of Egypt, but in reality steal whatever he can do with his hands and smuggle it back to Germany. We're talking about thousands of objects here. A letter from Himmler to Hans Reinerth, another Nazi Archaeologist, jokingly complained that, thanks to Hoth, the Wewelsburg Castle SS headquarters began to look like something in the movie Mummy Boris Karloff.”

“But how does all this lead to Castelombres?” Ask Layla, interjecting. “I don't see the connection.”

“That's the whole core,” says Dupont. “Indeed it seems to have nothing to do. This is what made this story so interesting until 1938. Hoth's career focused exclusively on ancient Egyptian archaeology. It shows no interest in any other branch of history, not least in the kind of naive mystical lie that appeals to such a person as the Himmler Holy Grail, Atlantis, that kind of thing. He could have been a thief and a usurper, but unlike other Nazi archaeologists, Hoth was never a delusionist.

“In November 1938, the man for whom this Land of the Pharaoh was everything, who was widely respected as the best Egyptian digger of his generation, who showed no interest in any other subject, he suddenly left Egypt with everything and instead devoted himself to investigating what is best described as a series of half-baked Medieval legends about buried treasure. It's amazing not only the change of direction, but also the complete change of character. I'm surprised this doesn't attract more attention.” Layla was stunned, tapping the pen on her notebook.

“So what happened in 1938? What suddenly caused this sudden change of interest?”

Dupont shrugs his shoulders. “Nobody knows. One time Hoth and his team were digging in Egypt, at a site outside Alexandria; the next he hurriedly returned to Berlin for a very secret meeting with Himmler who was, by chance, meeting, it was so important that Himmler had to cancel his dinner with the Fuhrer in order to attend the meeting. Then, a few days after that, Hoth appeared in Jerusalem was making measurements in the Church of the Holy Sepulchre and asked a series of questions about the legend of the buried gold that had been about eight hundred years old.”

“William De Relincourt,” says Layla. This Frenchman nodded.

“However, that's just the beginning. Over the next five years Hoth went back and forth across Europe and the Levant investigating what seemed to be a story about a treasure known to man. He visited many libraries, studied private collections of manuscripts, dug holes everywhere from Turkey to Canary Island before finally returning to Castelombres in September 1943, which somehow seems to be the culmination of an entire odd episode.”

“And there is no indication as to why he did all these things?” Layla. “What is he looking for?” Dupont shook his head. “Of course, it could be that he is simply living what he is told to. filling Himmler's rather idealistic fantasies. He was a dedicated Nazi. Will do whatever the boss tells you to. Or maybe he lost the plot. He is not the first academic to be infatuated by his work.”

“But you don't think so, ‘kan?”

“No,” reply Dupont. “I don't think so. I think he's purely working for something. Something so important, so significant to the entire Nazi history machine, that he was ready to turn his whole life around in pursuit of it.” He stared at the tip of his cigarette, then looked up at Layla.

“And whatever he was looking for, I guess he found it in Castelombres.”

He stared into Layla's eyes for a moment, then with a wry smile, put away his little chair and headed for the kettle, lit the fire again.

“I can't prove it, unfortunately. From its beginnings, the excavation of Castelombres was shrouded in secrecy that was so intense even by Nazi standards. What we do know is that Hoth arrived there in mid-September 1943, carrying heavy equipment for excavation and units of Sonderkommando Jankuhn, a division within the SS that specialized in excavation and dispossession. And he left three weeks later while carrying a kind of box or mysterious wooden crate.” Layla advanced her body, her chest tight from being so curious.

“Do we know what's in it?”

Dupont shook his head. “Unfortunately no. We know where it was taken from, because three days after they left Castelombres, Hoth and the coffin was at Wewelsburg Castle in northwestern Germany, their place was greeted by at least a welcome party conducted against Heinrich Himmler and Fuhrer itself.”

“No!”

“Of course it is very unusual,” said Dupont, sambal puffed his cigarette. “We have the diary of one of Himmler's aides who records how when he arrived, Hoth was awarded the Knight's Cross you saw, after which Hitler gave a speech and declared that the contents of the wooden crate was a clear sign that what Titus had started, he, Fuhrer, was assigned to finish it.” Layla's eyes shrink.

“That means?”

“Yahh, diaries are usually not very detailed, but I will say that almost certainly it is a reference to the Holocaust. Titus was the one who in 70 AD conquered Jerusalem and drove the Jews out of the Holy Land, and thus the concentration camps and gas chambers were a logical extension of this action. How exactly Hoth's discovery is relevant to the Final Solution.” He flicked his hand as if saying “I really don't know”.

“One of the many fascinating elements of Hoth's five-year journey into the mysterious and secret world of the Middle Ages is the sudden interest in the history of Judaism and Judaism. He even learned to read Hebrew. This was done by a man who was famous for his strong antisemitic attitude.” There was a clicking sound behind him as the kettle boiled.

“Add coffee?”

However, it is far from revealing the true essence of all this.

“So, what happened later?” tanyakanya. “After Hoth arrived in Wewelsberg?” Dupont was pouring water into a cup, the cigarette still stuck in his teeth.

“As far as can be said, there is nothing. The mysterious wooden crate disappears in the depths of the castle; Hoth returns to Berlin and he then accepts a job behind a desk in Ahnenerbe; this whole strange tale seems to be coming to the end.” He lifted the cup, took out his cigarette, and began to gulp.

“While, there is a little important addition, which can be related can also not. It happened over a year after Hoth's arrival at Wewelberg, in late 1944. At this point, the war turned towards the Nazis.

The Americans and the British pushed into Germany from the west, Russia from the east, and although the Fuhrer still insisted that they could cope with the situation, they did, deep in the heart of the high Nazi commander knew that the Third Regime was counting days. they began to move gold and treasure troves of loot artwork out of the path of Allied soldiers and send them abroad or hide them in secret locations in Germany, usually inside abandoned mines He sipped his coffee and returned to the small chair, with the cup in one hand and the cigarette in the other.

“Amidst all this, in December 1944, Dieter Hoth suddenly appeared at the Dachau concentration camp in southern Germany, while carrying, according to a statement given by camp deputy commander Heinz Detmers, who was a member of the military, two trucks, one containing a large wooden crate.” Layla's eyes widened. “Yang...”.

“Maybe yes, may not,” says Dupont, anticipating questions. “Surely something quite important to Hoth as he had gone all the way carrying it himself, but was it the same wooden crate he had brought back from Castelombres He shrugged his shoulders. “The only thing we know is that he commands a working team of six prisoners, and then leaves again. It could be that he brought the wooden crate to hide somewhere close by, or it might ship it overseas. Then, he also had an entirely different purpose. The next day he went back to his desk in Berlin. And the chest was never heard from again.”

“And he was killed at the end of the war? Right it?”

Dupont nodded. “He and a group of other SS officials tried to get out of Berlin before Berlin fell to the Russians. He was hit by a Katusha rocket as they tried to sneak across the Weidendammer Bridge. There was not much left of him, in any case his head was broken, as well as his two legs. they were just trying to identify him because he was wearing the Knight's Cross and was carrying a number of artifacts from a site that people knew he had seized in Egypt He made a last puff on his cigarette, then turned it off in the ashtray.

“Not more than he deserves, I imagine. Awesome men, brilliant academics, but very flawed humans. Tragically, when you contemplate this the brain is so brilliantly exploited for terrible purposes.”

He sighed and, while holding his hands together behind his neck, looked up at the sky light above his head. Layla sat back in her chair and rubbed her eyes, suddenly overwhelmed with fatigue. Whatever William De Relincourt found in Jerusalem, whatever he had sent to his sister in Castelombres, whatever had been brought to Montsegur for safekeeping, whatever Dieter Hoth dug up and brought to Germany, he seems to be straying again. So close, but so far away.

“If you have time you should visit St Sernin,” Dupont says. “Part of it is dated to the time of the First Crusade.” Layla muttered “Ya” slowly but not too much listening. All he thought about was where he should go after this.

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