The Force (The Kingdom Chronicles)

by Alexandra Swann

  The fantasy was now gone, and Josef was consumed by the same horrifying coldness he had experienced when he left Afshin’s hovel. Somehow Demetri had gained control of the situation. As Josef struggled to remain calm, Demetri watched, savoring every emotion and every slight change of expression.

  Keeping his voice perfectly controlled, Josef lifted his glass, “If the Altar has brought us here at the command of the Force, then we should drink to our host. To the Force.”

  Demetri lifted his glass, and the men finished their dinner quietly.

  Chapter 29

  At precisely 10:00 the following morning Josef’s car pulled up outside the Bundeskanzleramt—the headquarters of the German Chancellery in Berlin. Overnight a storm had moved in, and a cold rain was pouring as Josef stepped out of the car and under the umbrella his driver held for him.

  On the previous evening Josef had informed Kairos that he had many business issues to attend to this morning, and he would meet him at the Chancellery for their appointment. Considering Kairos’ extreme tardiness the day before, Josef surmised that he probably would not arrive until the meeting was almost over and Josef had made all of the arrangements without him. Josef would be sure to let Nikolai know that after the old man insisted that he bring Demetri, he had not even attended the negotiations, and his presence in Berlin had been completely unnecessary.

  The Bundeskanzleramt had been constructed at the beginning of the twenty-first century in a post-modern style of concrete and glass. The Chancellery building celebrated Germany’s reunification and the reestablishment of Berlin as the seat of government. The building also celebrated the triumph of modernism, efficiency, and simplicity over the excesses and abuses of the past. Eight times larger than the White House, the Bundeskanzleramt had been built without any of the artistic touches that graced the old buildings of Europe. It was new, clean, modern and austere.

  For decades this massive but no-frills building had been headquarters to an equally austere, unpretentious government. Germany had embraced its new fiscally-conservative, uncharismatic leaders with enthusiasm and trusted these leaders to navigate it through worldwide recession, difficulties with the Euro, and frequent bickering among the nations of the European Union. Indeed, they had done such a good job that for the past ten years Germany had enjoyed a rapidly-growing economy and burgeoning individual wealth.

  This prosperity had brought increased German prominence and national pride, and it had led the people to look for more photogenic leadership. They had found it in their newly-elected chancellor Helmut Schmidt and his wife Adel. Helmut and Adel were young—early forties and very glamorous. They represented Germany’s new People’s Party. Helmut was an engineer’s son who had worked his way up in the party through luck and skill. His wife Adel was a television actress in Germany—she had never reached star status, but she did have a following. Schmidt had narrowly won the election and was in the process of putting together a coalition government with which to lead the nation, so every move he made now mattered for the future of his chancellorship. Josef knew all of this, and he was prepared to make an offer that the chancellor could not refuse.

  The security guards standing watch at the entrance had been told to expect Josef, and they promptly escorted him to the elevators which took him to the chancellor’s floor. A staff person was waiting there to escort him into the offices. As he neared, he heard the sounds of laughter and a conversation that was well underway. He entered the room to find, to his intense disappointment, that the Turkish Minister of Cultural Affairs was already comfortably seated across from Schmidt’s desk. Demetri set down his cup of coffee and rose to greet him.

  Noting Josef’s surprised reaction at seeing them already engaged in conversation, Demetri explained, “I came around a little early—not as part of the official visit but because we are old friends. Our wives both sit on the board of the International Council for Women and Girls as well as a number of environmental organizations. We have all known each other for years, so Helmut and I have been here catching up.”

  “Guten tag, Herr Helmick,” Helmut greeted Josef as they were introduced. “I am honored to meet you.”

  “The honor is mine, Herr Schmidt,” Josef lied and took his seat across the desk from Helmut.

  They made small talk about Demetri’s and Josef’s uneventful travel to Berlin, about the exceptional quality of the food and lodgings at the Adlon Kempinski, and about the dreariness of the rain which continued to pour with no sign of a break.

  “Yesterday the weather was clear; I hope you were able to take advantage of it and see some of the beautiful history of our city.”

  “Indeed,” Josef responded. “In fact, we spent the afternoon on Museum Island touring the exhibits. The Pergamon Altar was of particular interest to us.”

  Helmut smiled and nodded. He had known this was coming and had been waiting for it. “Yes, I know that is why you and Demetri have come—to ask me to return the Pergamon Altar to Turkey. You must understand why this is impossible. Turkey has requested the return of the Altar on two other occasions—in 1998 and in 2001. Both times the Staatliche Museen Berlin refused. The artifacts that comprise the Pergamon Altar were not stolen from Turkey—they were excavated and legally removed by an agreement with the Ottoman Empire which ruled over Turkey in the late 1800s. We broke no law and violated no agreement. Our government has taken every precaution to protect and restore it. We even negotiated with the Soviet Union to restore the pieces they had removed during wartime. Germany invested millions in the restoration of the Altar in the 1990s to repair marble damaged by rust from metal clamps and fasteners. Our nation has been a remarkably good steward of this treasure; we simply cannot part with it.”

  Josef was prepared with his answer, “I appreciate the expense that you have incurred while the Altar has remained in your custody, and I also understand that many years of costs must be reimbursed, with interest, before any transfer from Berlin to Turkey can occur. It is in that spirit that Nikolai Sokol and I have each committed one billion Euros to the German treasury to compensate the nation for the Altar. Even with nearly two hundred years of interest, you must agree that this is an excellent return on your investment, Helmut.”

  Helmut continued smiling but still shook his head, “Your offer is most generous, but you must understand that the Altar’s presence in Germany is not merely a matter of money. Since the Altar first arrived on German shores, it has been a source of national pride to the German people. Museum Island is one of the top tourist attractions in Berlin; more than one million visitors a year journey from numerous countries to view the treasures on display; the Pergamon Altar is the chief attraction. For me to return the Altar to Turkey now would be to rip the heart out of Germany and throw it into the Mediterranean. The people would never forgive me.”

  Now Demetri spoke, “Helmut, this time it is different. The official request that I bring to you from the Turkish government is not based on any claims of malfeasance on the part of Germany. We do not claim that the Altar was taken fraudulently or illegally. In fact, we acknowledge in our request that Germany has acted within its legal and moral boundaries to keep the Altar and that you have honored it as it deserves. We merely ask that it be restored to its original home atop the acropolis at Bergama—the site where it was constructed.

  “Officially, that is my request. Unofficially, I am here today as your close friend. Our wives both serve tirelessly for the good of the environment. This morning Iona and Adel are in Rio de Janeiro at the annual Earth Summit where they will pledge their time, talents, and resources to a sustainable environmental future. Tonight they will attend the Earth banquet where they will once again renew their devotion to Gaia. We cannot achieve a sustainable global future unless we first give Gaia all that is hers. We cannot elevate her to her proper place without the Altar. If Adel and Iona were here today, they would tell us that the concerns of the Earth surpass all individual concerns of national boundaries and national pride, of history and p
rotocol. The Altar does not belong to Turkey any more than it belongs to Germany. The Altar belongs to the Earth and through the Earth to all of the peoples of the world. It is on the Altar’s behalf that I implore you today to return it to the place of its origin so that its Force can be unleashed.”

  Helmut sat quietly for a moment, staring down at his desk. Both men watched him carefully; neither spoke. Finally, Helmut spoke to Josef, “If I agree, you will pay the money to the treasury that you have indicated?”

  “The funds are prepared and awaiting wire transfer as soon as we have received a signed agreement from you,” Josef confirmed

  “And the Altar itself? Who will take responsibility for its disassembly and removal to Turkey?”

  “Nikolai Sokol has agreed, as an added incentive above and beyond what he is paying into the treasury, to assume responsibility for all costs of dismantling and removing the Altar. His own transportation company will pack and ship the artifacts to the coast; the curator of the Pergamon Museum and the director of the Staatliche Museen Berlin are encouraged to be on hand as this takes place, and Sokol will reimburse the cost of their time to the German government. Land transportation has already been arranged and cleared through President Andre Moreau of France, and His Majesty Luis Carlos of Spain has arranged for uninterrupted land transport through his country and use of the Strait of Gibraltar. From there, it will be taken by sea to its destination. There will be no stops for customs inspections, no handling by low-level security agents, no prying eyes to disturb it. It will arrive safely and ready to be reassembled. Nikolai Sokol guarantees all of this personally—to you and to the people of Germany.”

  Helmut looked at them thoughtfully, “We could make the announcement at the United Nations General Assembly meeting, I suppose. Germany is among the most environmentally-conscious of all nations. We could announce that we are returning the Altar to the Earth.”

  “Yes,” Demetri agreed. “Your chancellorship would be immediately celebrated by all those who understand the significance of such an action. You would have the support of powerful men and women from every corner of the globe.”

  “There is one more thing,” Helmut looked at Josef. “It may be as Demetri says; I may have the admiration of powerful men and women from all corners of the globe. But for me to give away one of our nation’s most valued treasures, I require more than money and more than admiration. I require a place at the table where those men congregate. In addition to all you have promised, my release of the Altar requires my membership in the Club of Rome. Make me one of your Guardians of Mankind, and the Altar is yours under the terms you have previously specified.”

  “Agreed,” answered Josef.

  ψ

  Demetri was taking an evening flight to Turkey; Josef was going to Switzerland. They parted in the lobby of the hotel.

  “It was a genuine pleasure to meet you, Josef,” Demetri shook his hand. “Nikolai speaks of you often and fondly.”

  “So I have noted,” Josef responded. “I hope to meet you again soon. I have business in Gstaad for a few days, but then my time will be free. Please join me there, with Iona and your son, as soon as she returns from Brazil. I have a private castle in the mountains—we can go there for a small celebration of our victory this week—just the four of us. I have an impressive collection of artifacts that should be of great interest to you and your family and a basement filled with amusements—something for each of you.”

  Demetri barely changed expressions, but the corners of his mouth curled into an almost imperceptible smile. With that he turned and walked out of the lobby and stepped into the waiting car.

  Chapter 30

  Nikolai Sokol was drinking coffee on his terrace overlooking his estate in Saint-Tropez. On one side was a magnificent view of a seemingly endless expanse of ocean and blue sky dotted with only a few fluffy white clouds. On the other side was his personal rose garden and beyond that his private vineyard. At that moment the warm breeze mingled the aroma of the grapes with the scent of the roses into an intoxicating perfume that filled the air and delighted his senses. Ordinary men never experience life, he mused. Day after day spent in work and drudgery to scrape out some sort of living is a miserable existence at best. Billions of humans occupying their years on the planet engaged in such struggles cannot possibly have lives worth saving. They cannot be said to be engaged in the pursuit of happiness—they have no idea what pleasure even is. Fortunately, control of the world with its money, its governments, its resources and its opportunities, was given long ago to the Guardians of Mankind. Yet, even the Guardians had proven to be small-minded and weak; even they could not be fully trusted with ordering the affairs of men. Even the Guardians needed a Guardian to rule over and judge them—that person was Nikolai Sokol.

  He was contemplating this when the call came in on his private personal communication device. The caller was the concierge at the Burj Khalifa. “Mr. Sokol, you instructed me to inform you of all activities concerning Josef Helmick. Armed officers from GenCEN are presently in the hotel with a search warrant for Helmick’s apartment; they are up there now tearing it apart. These international authorities appear to have the full cooperation of both the local police captain of Dubai and the federal police force of the UAE. They are locking down the building now. Local and state police are stationed outside the property to check the identities of every person entering or leaving the building. They are also shutting down all communications in and out of the building. I wanted to call you while I had the chance.”

  “Good work, Rashid. Who else have you told?”

  “Only you. You are my only call.”

  “Tell no one that we spoke. Are you calling from a line in the hotel or a PCD?”

  “PCD. The switchboard has been shut down. This is a very organized operation—they came in at mid-morning. I hid my device and did not turn it in when I was told so that, at an opportune time, I could find a hidden place from which I could call you. I am in a storage closet on the basement level of the building.”

  “Good. Are there any liquids in the closet with you?”

  “There are,” Rashid confirmed, adding that there were various cleaning agents and bleach.

  “Place the PCD in a bucket and cover it with bleach. No one must be able to trace this call. Stay in the closet. I will send someone to get you. Under no circumstances are you to call anyone else or tell anyone that you and I have spoken. Do you understand?”

  “Perfectly,” answered Rashid. “I will await my rescue.”

  Nikolai pressed the screen on his PCD and the call immediately connected. The old man spoke quickly but clearly. “There is no time to be lost. GenCEN has issued a search warrant for Josef Helmick’s apartment at the Burj Khalifa. Interpol and the FBI will follow immediately with arrest warrants for him and his entire team. We must move up our time line and set our operation into action now. Under no circumstances can he be arrested; use your own network but only your very best operatives selected from Special Forces. Helmick, everyone who works for him and those with whom he has had extensive personal contact must all be eliminated—including those Guardians who took part in his private experiments. I am sending you a list. There must be no loose ends. Start with Rashid—the concierge at the Burj Khalifa—he is hiding in a storage closet in the basement where he just destroyed the PCD he used to contact me.”

  “I will take care of it immediately. What about the Altar?”

  “The Altar is ready. My transport company has already dismantled it; your submarine can pick it up tonight.”

  “I am honored by your favor, Nikolai. My network is at your disposal; my men are in position. I will activate them now.”

  “See that you do. I will pay you a visit you in a few days.” Nikolai disconnected the call and picked up his cup of coffee.

  Within five minutes a young member of the Dubai police force entered the basement of the Burj Khalifa and walked directly to the storage closet where Rashid had imprisoned himself. No on
e heard the gun shot that put a bullet between the concierge’s eyes and left him lying dead in the closet. Taking out a plastic bag, the officer bagged the bleach-soaked PCD, pocketed it, and locked the door behind him, leaving the body to be discovered by a member of the staff three days later.

  ψ

  Ishan Pai was sitting in a dark SUV across the street from the headquarters of Ambani Global in Mumbai. A few weeks after his trip to Switzerland, he had regained his memory. He was not sure why or how—but one morning well before sunrise he awoke knowing who he was, who Vasana was, and where they both were. He could remember both his old life and his present one. His wife was sleeping fitfully next to him—he could hear her incoherent mutterings from the dreams that tormented her every night. He rose quietly from his sleeping mat and went to the gardener’s shed to retrieve the knife he had used the previous day. When he returned, he pushed the blade completely through Vasana’s stomach until it exited through her back. She woke for only a moment—her eyes looked at him with ghastly recognition. He wondered if in that moment her memories also returned. It did not matter; she bled to death without the exhausted servants lying next to her ever awakening.

  Ishan Pai had wealth of his own that Hemraj had never been able to control. When he left the Ambani estate, he went first to a small family vacation home in the mountains. There was a floor safe there with money he could use to leave the country; from there he traveled to another family home in the Cayman Islands where he plotted his revenge.

  Ishan waited for Hemraj’s car to pull up to the entrance. Ambani was in high spirits—he was about to announce that shares of Ambani Global had more than doubled since the death of his sister and brother-in-law a few months earlier that had ended the internal squabbling for control of the company.

  The driver opened the door, and when Ambani was out of the car, the driver turned and shot him five times in the chest and stomach. He then jumped back into the car and sped down the street just as he had been instructed to do when Ishan had hired him. As employees of Ambani Global ran into the street to see what had happened, and passersby crowded around the crumpled body of Hemraj Ambani, a man stepped forward and offered to assist. “Let me through; I have medical training,” Ishan Pai lied. The ruse worked; Hemraj looked up in horror to see Ishan standing over him. Ishan’s face was the last thing he ever saw.