The Force (The Kingdom Chronicles)

by Alexandra Swann

  “Who?—give me a name?” Josef demanded.

  “I do not know the name. Fred received many communications from them. They are brothers—more than brothers—and they are Americans like Fred. They will destroy you.”

  The blind man could not see the anger flashing in Josef’s eyes. The Sinclairs—it could not be anyone else. He knew that they consulted for GenCEN; that is why Fred had sent them Amanda’s ring. They were the ones who had sent Fred to Dubai. Afshin was wrong—they would not destroy him. He would order a hit on Fred from his vacation home in Switzerland, where he was going immediately after leaving Berlin. His flight to Berlin was leaving in two hours and he could not delay it, but as soon as he finished his errand for Sokol, finding Fred would be his top priority. Then, he would lure the Sinclair brothers and their families to Switzerland where he would dispose of them in his dungeon. No one would ever know what had happened to them.

  The Luger was still in his hand, and he straightened his arm to fire the kill shot.

  Perhaps the old man sensed what was about to happen, for he now spoke again. “There is more….”

  Josef lowered the gun, “Out with it.”

  “You were not born of a woman, like ordinary men. You say you believe in no god, yet you believe you yourself are god. I know what you seek—the Altar of Zeus. You seek to use the Altar to control all men and declare yourself to be god. You believe that you can possess it, but you cannot. No one possesses the Altar; the Altar possesses them. The Altar will humiliate you; you will crawl on your knees and grovel before it, and then it will destroy you. You have no idea of the power it holds and no respect for it. The Altar will break you. Now show me what you have in your pocket.” The withered claw reached towards Josef, and he instinctively backed away.

  “I have nothing in my pocket,” Josef tried to steady his voice. He was still holding the Luger, but all possibility of shooting Afshin had somehow vanished. No one anywhere knew that he was a clone. That knowledge had died with Karl Helmick, and Josef had never shared his origins with any person. How did Afshin know? He could not know; it was impossible. In 2041 most people did not believe that successful human cloning had ever been achieved—a man as ignorant as Afshin living in blindness in a filthy, stinking hole could not begin to understand the most rudimentary concepts of cloning. So why would he say that Josef did not come from a woman? Someone was feeding the old man information to toy with him. But who?

  As Josef struggled to gather his thoughts, he heard the old man’s voice. “You carry a crystal in your pocket that you use to tell the fortunes of the weak and foolish. Give it to me.”

  Almost against his will, Josef felt his own hand reach into his pocket and retrieve the crystal prism which rested in a black velvet bag. Josef observed that his own hand was shaking slightly as he handed the small velvet pouch to Afshin. It was as though he was watching an image of himself from far away—as if he no longer had control over his own actions.

  The claw seized the velvet cloth and felt for the opening. Finding it, Afshin carefully deposited the crystal into his other palm, and closing his hands over it he rubbed both hands over the talisman as he muttered some words in a language Josef could not identify. The ceremony probably lasted less than a minute, but to Josef it seemed as if time stood still.

  When the withered, broken hand finally lifted from the crystal Josef observed that it was glowing with a strange orange light. No, that was not possible. The room was too dark; there was no light for the prisms to reflect. Josef struggled to regain control of the situation. The old man was playing mind games with him. Perhaps, in the specks of dust that filled the air there was some sort of incense—some primitive hallucinogen.

  “When you find the courage to face it, it will show you your future,” the old man’s smile was filled with mockery as he offered the still-glowing crystal to Josef. The prism was inexplicably warm as Josef returned it to its black velvet purse. His own hands were still shaking as he deposited it into his pocket.

  “Now leave me, German,” Afshin’s breath was like the stench of a grave. How had Afshin gotten so close to him that he could feel his breath? In those sightless eyes, Josef imagined that he could see something looking back at him—a penetrating darkness that peered deep into his own mind and mocked and taunted him. It was the most horrifying sight he had ever experienced.

  Turning, he staggered out the doorway into the alley. His legs were so weak they could hardly support him. After a few steps he vomited uncontrollably onto the packed earth. For the first time since becoming an adult, Josef was terrified.

  Chapter 26

  Fred was eating breakfast with the Sinclairs in their suite in Dubai. They had chosen a British-owned retreat that catered to businessmen and heads of state who wanted to keep a low profile, and it had built its reputation on ensuring its residents privacy in one of the world’s most opulent settings.

  Seated at the table with Fred and the Sinclairs was Harold Baker, their IT specialist. According to Jarrod, Harold was “the best in the business” and could open any electronic file, regardless of the sophistication of the encryption used to protect it.

  “You may talk freely,” Harold said looking at Fred. “I swept the entire suite for bugs less than an hour ago. It’s clean.”

  Fred smiled, “I’m certainly glad to know that, because I don’t doubt for a moment that Helmick has informants everywhere who would like to record everything that’s going on here and sell it to him. This morning as I was leaving the Burj Khalifa, Rashid, the concierge, told me that Josef left a few days ago for Berlin to meet with Chancellor Helmut Schmidt and Demetri Kairos, who is the Turkish Minister of Cultural Affairs, to negotiate a transfer of the Pergamon Altar from Berlin to Bergama. Kairos is a name you probably don’t recognize, but I am sure you are familiar with his notorious father—Ari Karras.”

  “The one who owned the Greek shipping lines? Is Kairos his son—the gangster turned pagan art collector? There are lots of rumors that he killed both his parents, but he’s still on everybody’s A list.” Jarrod looked puzzled, “Why would he be giving you information?”

  “Not giving, selling. I recruited Rashid as an informant the day I arrived. Today he tried to act very mysterious and negotiated for a while, but we settled on three hundred dollars.”

  “Where’s Bergama?” Joshua inquired.

  “It’s the modern name for Pergamon.”

  “Why do you think that’s of any special significance?” Jarrod asked. “Josef is not religious. He would have no use for the Altar. He’s always been all about science. I can’t see him suddenly developing an interest in mythology.”

  “Don’t be so sure of that,” Fred responded. “The Altar has been used throughout history to control the masses. You’re aware that Hitler used it as the model for his podium in Nuremberg where he consolidated his power and laid the foundation for the Third Reich?”

  “Yes, our mother was a history major, and she talked a lot about Hitler and the Third Reich.”

  Fred took a sip of coffee and continued, “The Altar is more than a collection of marble friezes. Last year my pastor did a series of Wednesday night teachings on the seven churches in the book of Revelation, and he spent several sessions on the church at Pergamos. In chapter two Jesus says that the church at Pergamos is in the city where Satan’s throne is located, at the very center of satanic worship. Jesus, himself, referred to the Altar as Satan’s throne on earth. That’s pretty powerful.

  “A lot of people believe that when the ruins of the Altar were discovered in 1878 and moved to Germany, an evil was unleashed there that has been at work ever since. Both world wars saw Jewish persecutions—although World War II was much worse. I’m convinced that when the Altar came to Germany forces were set in motion to annihilate the Jewish people. Then, when Hitler came to power, Satan had his perfect vessel to bring about their destruction. We all know that Hitler’s hatred for the Jews was more than ordinary prejudice; it was an obsession.


  “The word Holocaust means ‘a wholly burnt sacrifice.’ The Nazis built their crematoriums to implement their ‘final solution’ but I believe that, for Hitler, the cremations were far more than an efficient means to dispose of the bodies—they were altars for his burnt offerings—his sacrifices to Satan.”

  “Whoa!” Harold exclaimed. “You’re weirdin’ me out, man.”

  “I’m not trying to weird anyone out,” Fred replied, “but I want everyone here to understand what we’re dealing with.”

  Fred looked at Joshua, who had remained quiet during most of the meal. “Do you think this is the beginning of the end?” he asked. “Could Josef be ushering in the Anti-Christ—or maybe even be the Anti-Christ?”

  “Only if we allow him to,” Joshua answered. “In every generation Satan has tried to bring the Anti-Christ to power. But the Bible says that he cannot come until the one who is holding him back steps out of the way. That one is God’s Holy Spirit. I am convinced that we can hold back the Anti-Christ as long as God’s people are willing to stand against him.

  “There could be only one true Christ—Jesus Christ, the Messiah, the only begotten Son of God. He came at a specific time in history to fulfill the scriptures and overcome Death and Hell.

  “With the Anti-Christ it’s different. Anyone who is given over to Satan will do. He is an imitator and a fraud, and God has given His people His Holy Spirit to hold him back. History has seen many Anti-Christ types—Nero, Antiochus Epiphanes, Robespierre, Hitler, Stalin and dozens more. They have all had one thing in common—each wanted to annihilate God’s people and set himself up as the ruler of a one-world government. That is why we are always one generation away from continuing to hold him back; each generation offers a new candidate.

  “Chapter 12 of Revelation says that we overcome Satan by the blood of the Lamb and by the word of our testimony. Jesus has already shed His blood on the cross, and millions of Christians all over the world are standing against Satan and his forces. As long as we are faithful to boldly share our testimonies, we will hold back his coming. One day God’s people will be too few and too weak to care enough to stand against the forces of Satan, and when that day comes, the Anti-Christ will take power. But today is not that day!”

  “For right now, Fred, how would you like to have full access to Josef Helmick’s apartment while he’s away?” Jarrod interjected.

  “You’re kidding!”

  “Nope, I’m as serious as a heart attack.” Jarrod reached inside his jacket pocket and pulled out an official GenCEN ID and handed it to Fred. “After you found the location of Helmick’s Swiss property we were able to have a satellite pointed at it, and a few weeks ago we got a photograph that we are ninety-five percent certain is Heinz Felhaber. That, along with the DNA match to Amanda Sutton on the ring you sent us, and confirmation from the hotel staff that she was Helmick’s date after she died, was enough to get a GenCEN search warrant for his apartment here and his estate in Switzerland. Show this to the concierge at the Burj Khalifa and he will let you in. I am sending a team of GenCEN agents with you, just to guard against any possibility that someone might decide to shoot you.

  “I’ve been holding onto this ID for several months—waiting for the right moment to use it. I’ll send a coded text to GenCEN right now so that they can get their agents in place.”

  “How long will that take?” Fred inquired. “Nobody has any idea how long Josef will be away.”

  “They can be at the Burj Khalifa in five minutes,” Jarrod replied. “I made certain the agents were in place before Josh and I arrived yesterday. They’ve been waiting for the green light. A team will be here to pick you up before you finish that cup of coffee. The sixteen other agents will be waiting for you at the hotel.”

  Chapter 27

  Josef stood at the center of Berlin’s Museum Isle. Nikolai Sokol had informed him that he would meet Demetri Kairos at this location, and they would view the Pergamon Altar together. The following morning, they would have their meeting with Germany’s chancellor to request that the Altar be restored to its original home on an acropolis in the ancient city of Pergamon, renamed Bergama in modern times. Josef was impatient and looked at his watch. He despised tardiness as a sign of both disrespect and inefficiency and this Greek, or Turk—or whatever Demetri was—had kept him waiting for thirty minutes.

  After a full forty-five minutes had passed since the specified meeting time, Josef saw a man striding toward him. Josef Helmick, I am honored to make your acquaintance.” Josef stared at him coldly, but Demetri extended his hand in a friendly fashion. “Nikolai sent me your photo and dossier so that I could recognize you among the thousands of tourists milling about today. I hope you will forgive my tardiness. I had breakfast with Nikolai on his yacht, and he simply would not let me leave. He said that you would understand.”

  Josef kept his composure, but inwardly he was seething. Nikolai knew how he hated to be kept waiting; he had done this on purpose, knowing perfectly well that he would have no choice but to wait. Josef looked forward to the day when he could punish this vulgar, greedy Czech as he deserved, but he reminded himself that this was not that day. Josef needed Nikolai to accomplish his purposes, and, apparently, that also meant that he needed Demetri. He smiled his most charming smile and returned the handshake. As he did so, he studied Demetri carefully.

  He was about thirty-five years of age and approximately the same height as Josef, just under six feet tall. Even in his charcoal suit, which was just one shade lighter than black, Demetri appeared lean and hard. His dark hair, which was the color of a charcoal briquette, matched his suit exactly. His hair was thick and naturally wavy and just slightly too long but very flattering. He had a flawless porcelain complexion that shone as if he had never had a blemish or a breakout of any type. His chiseled masculine features were situated perfectly on his face, as if he had been sculpted from fine Greek marble. Josef was stunned by his flawless perfection—it was unusual to see such beauty anywhere, and particularly in an organic. But it was Demetri’s eyes that immediately captured Helmick’s attention.

  His large almond-shaped eyes turned down slightly at the corners, which made him appear a little melancholy, and they were framed by thick black lashes. The eyes were gray—not gray-green or gray-blue or any of the other faded variations of eyes that Josef had seen so often in his studies of organics. These were the color of storm clouds reflected in the sea; they were the color of liquid silver reflecting light; they were the color of the silver lining beneath a cloud. They were rare and remarkable, and they immediately captured Helmick’s attention.

  When Josef was a child, he had collected butterflies and kept them in his room pinned inside picture frames. When he became a man, he discovered a more interesting collection—eyes. Whenever he saw a person with a remarkable eye color, he cloned that individual and then harvested the eyes for his private display. Heinz had created a chemical solution that would preserve the eyes and prevent deterioration, and through this process Josef had been able to keep some of his early trophies for more than a decade. He had collected all shades of irises—blue and violet and green and even yellow. He had collected sets of eyes from specimens with heterochromia, and he displayed these sets with their different-colored irises together. He had collected so many rare specimens for his wall of eyes that he was beginning to think that there was nothing new left to add to his collection. Now, however, looking at Demetri, he knew that his eyes would be an ideal addition to the wall. During this visit, he must secure the DNA needed to clone him.

  If Demetri were aware of the intense interest with which Josef was examining him, he did not show it. “I am delighted to be able to meet you here so that we can tour the museum together. Nikolai indicated that you had not seen it before. You have spent much time in Berlin, though?”

  “Much time,” Josef responded in as friendly a fashion as he could manage. Now that he had discovered his own personal interest in Demetri, he exhibited as much charm as possible. �
��I have been in Berlin countless times since I was a boy; I used to come here with my father, but we did not spend our time in museums. I have never had any use for relics that are put on display to entertain gawking tourists.”

  “My father and I also visited Berlin frequently. We came to this island every visit. We spent the entire day at the five museums. Most of that time was spent at the Pergamon Altar and the antiquities museum, where my father recounted the mythology of the Greeks and Trojans and gods and mortals. Now I bring my own son, and together we walk through the exhibits and recount the stories of our heroic past.”

  “How old is your son?” Josef inquired.

  “He is eight. He begged me to allow him to accompany me on this trip, but I told him that I had to work and would have no time for him. He can recount the old stories better than I—his mother has schooled him so thoroughly in Greek mythology that he knows these tales more intimately than our great poet Homer. He would have enjoyed meeting you, and I think you would have enjoyed meeting him as well. But this day, I am your guide to the Altar and it’s ancient past. Allow me.” Pointing toward the entrance to the Pergamon Altar museum, he motioned for Josef to step ahead of him, and he followed. A guard standing duty at a locked door opened it for them, and they stepped into a massive structure housing one of the most impressive artifacts of the ancient world. Josef and Demetri were the only two people in the room, which was noteworthy considering that the island was filled with tourists, and the Pergamon Altar was the chief attraction. Josef noted the absence of tourists but said nothing to Demetri.

  “I paid for a special viewing today—a command performance as it were—for just the two of us,” Demetri informed him. “Museum Island attracts over one million visitors each year, and most of them come to see this. A proper viewing is almost impossible. I paid the curator to lock the building down so that we can view the structure as it was meant to be viewed—reverently, without interruption.”