by Dean Kutzler
He watched the nephew fumble around underneath the bed. When he came out, he sat on the floor with something shiny and gold in his hand. Then he pulled the book off the bed and was holding the shiny object alongside it as if he was contemplating something.
Then a memory flashed in Lars’s head like heat lightning. Few people at the organization were privy to confidential information. Until recently, Lars hadn’t been either. Everyone had their roles and was informed accordingly as the Führer saw fit. A smart protocol they had lived by for centuries, which kept them invisible from the public eye and protected the organization’s priceless information. Before Lars had received his clearance, he’d used his computer skills to hack into the organization’s mainframe. They had never known. He’d needed an edge. He’d needed to learn all he could to assist the Führer in the centuries old goal. His bold move had landed him his promotion.
While he’d been apprising himself with the vast information in the database, he’d learned about the artifact—the book. At the time, it had all sounded so fanatical; A supernatural book that told the true account of our creation, exposing a lie that had been believed from the beginning. Supernatural how?
More importantly, the Führer had been in search of a particular DNA strand in human blood. The Führer thought that the book held the secret for the process to create the DNA, or that it actually was the secret. Lars's field of expertise had been computers, not biology. He didn’t understand much of the research, mostly just its importance to the Führer and to the future of mankind. The research indicated that the DNA had existed from the beginning of time, but had been destroyed by the great flood. Fragments of the DNA strand had been found, but not in whole in retrospect to the original, and they’d been mostly in a dormant state. They worked tirelessly in the labs below the Vatican to enhance the DNA, to make it whole and activate the fragmented genes, but they’d been unsuccessful. They were decades from a viable solution. Nothing but addled people with parlor tricks at best.
To Lars's surprise, some of the data in the mainframe consisted of footnoted PDFs of cuneiform tablets. The organization had been keeping tabs on the genetically superior humans since the flood. Even back then, they had an unusually advanced knowledge, crude as it was, of the genetic process.
After the flood, the DNA was present in only a few humans and it was fragmented at best. Only a few humans were able to fully develop the potential. Even then, the process had taken a lot of time to develop. Over thousands of years and mixed breeding between humans with and without the fragmented DNA, it had been watered down almost to the point of extinction. Almost. Very few bloodlines contained enough of the strand to even be tested for the potential. On very rare occasions, the probability near impossible, a single member in a generation would possess enough of the genetic anomaly to be a viable source for testing and possible regeneration.
The cuneiform tablets told of the stories in ancient times. The super-sized humans were relentlessly hunted and eradicated because of their size, but more for fear of their strange abilities. The tablets spoke of God’s insistence that the super-sized humans would overtake the earth and deplete it of resources before it could regenerate.
Humans had been dreaming up fiction from the beginning of time. Biblical Frankensteins. Lars shook his head.
The tablets also spoke of a supernatural book. Lars didn’t believe in such nonsense, but if the Führer thought it was important, then there must have been some validity to it. The tablet said the book was forged by God’s hands in order to hide a mistake, sealed by a golden key of innocence. Without the key, the book would be useless.
Lars's vision was filled with the twinkling golden object between the lawyer’s nephew’s fingers. An accomplished grin spread across his geometric jawline as he waited. The Führer would reward him well. Then, the nephew pushed the shiny object flush with the binding of the book and on Lars's third step into the room, he cracked the lawyer’s nephew over the head with the blunt end of his flashlight.
November 12, 8:19 A.M., EST
FDR Drive, New York City
LARS WAS SPEEDING through city-traffic towards JFK airport, ready to take the organization’s private jet back to Rome, when he got the call. The Führer would be pleased with the added bonus. Lars didn’t know the importance of the innocent key; just that another failure of an agent was in search of it. Lars's orders were to acquire the book from the lawyer’s nephew in a nonlethal fashion at all costs. He was not to harm the boy and it took all of his willpower not to exact revenge for costing him precious time with his hand in Wilhelm’s fate. But, as Lars was soon to learn, all things happened for a reason.
After shifting lanes and cutting off the stupid American boy trying to best him in a rice-burner, he glanced at the ringing cell phone on the rental’s seat.
It was the Führer himself.
Lars grabbed the phone and placed it in the cubbyhole of the dash, tapping the speaker button.
“It is Lars, mein Führer. How can I be of service?” he said, watching the American boy blow past him, flipping him the middle finger.
“Have you left the states yet?” The Führer asked in a rushed voice.
“Nein. Apologies, mein Führer. I have the book und am heading to the airport now. There was an incident with Wilh—“
“You are certain, Lars? It is the correct book?” His voice took on a greedy edge.
“Yes, mein Führer, und I would have had it sooner but—“
“That is all that is important.” The Führer cut him off again. “You have done very well, mein favoriten. Your status among your brethren will be escalated as promised to mark your success. You are to safely secure the book und remain in the states. Since the unfortunate theft, new calculations of the lineage have been completed. I have new orders for you before your return, Lars.”
“Mein life exists only as a tool for your service, mein Führer,” he said, as a warm smile cut the angle of his jaw-line. He was the Führer’s favorite, trusted with important intel. Lars had worked hard for this moment.
As he listened to his instructions, he dropped the sports shifter and punched the pedal. Now, where is that stupid American boy?
November 12, 6:30 A.M., EST
The Brownstone, Upper East Side
THROUGH THE DENSE copse of viridescent saplings, flashes of light sparkled like diamonds spilling across silky satin. A warm summer wind blew gently through the trees, making the light shimmer and dance with life as the soft sounds of leaves rustled a gentle song along the edge of the lake. The breeze blew past the lush thicket of trees out into the clearing and the dazzle of light upon the lake intensified to the golden brilliance of the sun within the water’s hypnotizing ripples.
In a silver flash through the distance across the lake, he heard the muffled essence of his name like a speaker under water. Slowly, the silver flash twirled, switching back and forth as the sound grew in volume and clarity before a black sailboat drifted onto the lake appearing from nowhere, blocking his shining namesake.
The silvery sound wavered and careened around the boat, never gaining purchase, as the black sails blocked its path at every turn. Then, the reflected golden brilliance of the sun within the lake began to fade, like an accelerated sunset without motion, until nothing was left but the lone bobbing silver light. Though unseen, the darkness began to pulse with red-hot pain.
The silver light grew in intensity, quickly catching up to the throbbing darkness of pain, and began to surge across the dark water like a hungry shark. The closer it drew near, the clearer the image and sound became. He could just about make out the image now, it was a—
“Jack! Jack! Are you okay? What has happened?” asked Father Alazar. He was hunched over Jack’s body sprawled on the floor, his silver cross dangling before Jack’s face, shimmering in the light.
Like stubborn shades that refused to stay open, the squint of Jack’s eyelids fluttered once, then twice, and quickly went back to a strained squint. He’d passed ou
t. No, he had been knocked out. His head pounded with every syllable that escaped the seminarian’s mouth. “What the—“ he croaked, feeling the back of his head. When he pulled his hand away, blood ran down his palm. Wiping it on his pants he said, “I just put the key into the book and, and—I don’t know. I think someone hit me over the head. I just—” He frantically looked about the room.
“Take it easy, Jack. Just take a deep breath. You are injured” Father Alazar said, eyeing the blood and helping Jack sit up against the bed. “Let me have a look at your head.”
Jack leaned forward so Father Alazar could look at the back of his head. “I found the book, Father. I just put the key into it and, and, that’s all I remember. Now here you are, my head hurts and the book is gone and I—“
“Just try to calm down. There will be plenty of time for talk. You have a nasty bump and a gash on your head. I think we should get you to a doctor. Can you stand?”
“Thanks, I’ll be fine. Just help me up. This isn’t the first time.”
Father Alazar eyed him with caution as he hooked an arm under Jack’s shoulder and helped him sit up on the bed. “First time?” he asked with an eyebrow raised.
“It’s a long story. First, what happened to you? At the church?” Jack shot him an incredulous look.
The man took a deep breath, fingered the silver cross hanging from his neck and said, “That is why I am here, Jack. I have not been completely honest with you.”
No shit? Really?
“Jack, I am so sorry that you are mixed up in all of this,” the priest continued, fumbling with the cross. “You have to trust me. I was trying to keep you safe from all of this. I tried to warn you when you called me.” Father Alazar sat down next to Jack on the bed, his shoulders slumped in resignation.
“I never meant—no, I never dreamt any of this would happen when Father Angeli asked me to embark on this quest. He never told me what he discovered may have been in the book—said he didn’t want to taint me. But we talked about the dangerous organization in great length.” He stopped playing with the silver cross hanging from his neck. “Father Angeli was so resolute, so full of determination on his quest, that I was blinded by the wrong side of right. He felt God was on our side and that we should stop at nothing—“
“Wait a minute,” Jack interrupted, turning an angry eye on the man. “Are you saying that Father Angeli killed my fam—“
“Jack, by the grace of God, no!” His face burst with indignation. “I know we hardly know one another, but you must believe me. Father Angeli was very emphatic on his quest, but he did not commit the worst sin.” He never got the chance. “We never meant any harm to come to your family. We should have gotten the authorities involved and maybe none of this would have happened.” His head seemed to slump farther than his shoulders.
Jack had never fully trusted the man from the start and as it turns out, his journalistic intuition had served him correctly. That whole thing about George Washington and the hidden compartment under the pew was absurd. He wondered what else the priest had lied about. But the man had come here while Jack was unconscious. If he wanted him dead, waking him up wouldn’t have been the first thing he would’ve done. Looking down at the smear of blood on his pants, he said, “Gimme a sec, Father. I’m just going to clean up a bit and then you can come clean, as well.”
Father Alazar merely nodded as Jack left the room to wash the blood from his head and change clothing. He never wanted to see anyone get hurt, but they had, and if he had done the right thing, those lives might have been saved. It was surely the organization that had killed Jack’s uncle and father, but he didn’t know why. Father Angeli’s voice whispered through the back of his mind like a gentle current. Unstoppable, but gentle, his voice echoed through his head about the greater good. About God’s work, God’s will. About how the police were corrupt and didn’t follow God’s law, nor cared of His will. It had all been so clear when Father Angeli was alive, but without his guidance, or better put, his influence, he began to question if what he needed to do was truly the right thing.
For years, the Vatican had kept a close eye on Jack. They sat in shadows, watching and waiting as time rolled by—never taking to action, yet never losing sight of him. But now, Jack was almost at the correct age and the organization, the Bene Elohim, knew it too, despite Father Angeli’s clever theft. Father Angeli insisted that the Vatican take action, which is when Father Alazar came into the picture. He’d known what was being asked of him from the start, why he was truly called to order. His past. It had been a long time since the church had taken such drastic measures. The ugly past of the church should have been just that—the past. The Bishop had said the fate of the world depended on Father Alazar’s calling, even insisted that it was the will of God, like Father Angeli said, and that was where his lack of faith had been birthed. How could the Bishop himself think such an act God’s will? It went against everything they taught him—the very life from which they’d saved him. He knew he was being tested, but he just didn’t know what the right path was anymore.
“Okay, Father” Jack said, walking back from the bathroom dressed in clean clothes. He sat back down on the bed next to Father Alazar. “Why don’t you tell me what’s going on? Starting with what happened at the church?”
“Ahh—yes” he said, like a weight was lifted from his shoulders. “That is why I came directly here. To make sure you were all right.” The relief evident in his eyes. He spoke slowly and calmly, trying to collect his thoughts. “I truly called you to the church so that I could come clean, as you Americans say.” He offered a weak smile. When Jack didn’t reciprocate, he continued. “I was going to show you the work Father Angeli had toiled over, gathering for years, concerning the Bene Elohim.”
“The Bene Elohim?” Jack spoke the words, trying to pull the recollection from his memory. Where had he heard that name? Or seen it?
“Yes, that is the name of the dangerous organization that I told you about at the diner.”
“So you knew their name! Why lie about it?”
“So you would not go in search of them, Jack. I may have lied about their identity, but the warning was solid, Jack. They are very dangerous. You must never cross paths with them, nor can you confront the police about them.” Or let them get their hands on you. “You just don’t know how serious this is, Jack. The Bene Elohim’s reach extends well past the authorities.” As the priest shifted on the bed, his cross dangled back and forth like a pendulum.
“I wanted to tell you and show you everything I found, Jack, in Father Angeli’s office. But I was a coward. I got scared after I hung up the phone with you. Father Angeli was gone—I had no one to turn to. I couldn’t call the Bishop and shame myself. I just didn’t know what to do, so I ran.” He grabbed at the cross. “I was going to go back to my country and start over. Start a new life. Who knew a priest’s life could be so dangerous?” He flashed that weak smile again.
“A priest? I thought you were still in training?” He asked, thinking back to the dated seminarian certificate hanging in the Father’s office. “What was the word you used? Sem—“
“Seminarian” he said, finishing Jack’s word. “That was a little lie, too.” He looked away and when he looked back at Jack, the poor pawn in all of this, purpose filled his eyes. “As you can tell, I’m not a very good liar. A sin is a sin, never too great nor small and I hold my beliefs, God’s beliefs, dear to my heart, Jack. You caught me unaware when you called me. I couldn’t bear the sin, so I thought if I said I wasn’t a full-fledged priest it would somehow make it less of a sin. Foolish, I know.” His cheek raised in a half grin as he said, “See how one lie leads to another?”
Finally, some truth.
“The only knowledge I have of the Bene Elohim, Jack, is that they will stop at nothing to achieve their goal. They go against everything the church stands for and Father Angeli was very close to finding the key. The key you had in your grasp, Jack. Without that, they could not have opened the a
rtifact or gained its power.”
“And now they have both,” Jack sighed, feeling defeated.
“Do not despair Jack, all is not lost. As long as we have faith in God, hope can never be lost. I just wish we could have learned more from Father Angeli’s files.”
“You found files on the Bene Elohim in his office?” Jack said with a poker face better than Lady Gaga.
“Yes, Jack. Like I told you before, it took me a while to gain access to his office, but I finally did and I found his files in his desk drawer. They were all there in his office.”
“And you didn’t get a look at them?”
“No. I left them alone and waited for the chance that we could examine them together. In private. Today was the perfect day. The church is closed. Everyone is at a long awaited conference on religion being held at the Convention Center in Philadelphia. We would have had all day to search his files.”
Jack heavily regarded the man’s countenance. Fool me once, shame on you. Jack had gone through every inch of those files. There was nothing out of the ordinary in them and Father Alazar inadvertently confirmed that he hadn’t moved them into his own office, which meant he was outright lying.
Why?
“You said you came here to make sure I was all right? Why?”
“I was torn between staying and leaving. I owed you an explanation, but my shame got the better of me.” He desperately toyed with the cross. “I felt like the walls were closing in on me and I’d waited too long to leave. I saw you at the gate out front and I panicked. There was no time left to think about it, so I just ran. I ran out the back door and through the graveyard. I hailed a cab and headed for Penn Station. I was going to take the next flight back to Spain, but then I realized that if I walked out now, I would be directly responsible for whatever happened next.” Especially what would have if I had. “And there wouldn’t be a place on earth far enough away to hide from my guilt.” He gave Jack an apologetic look. “So I told the cab driver to turn around and head back to the church and that is when I saw the fire.” His face went blank.