SUMMATION

by Daniel Syverson

  "How could this happen?" Zarin was visibly angry. He was not used to being out of control. Information release was tightly controlled. "Certainly there have been no leaks at my end. To whom did you speak?"

  It was the elder Richter's turn to flip from puzzled to angry. "No way. This was not our doing. I have contacted no one. Only a few of my very top people even know I left the U.S. I don't know what's going on."

  The aide returned, whispering into Zarin's ear. After a few moments, he nodded slightly and stopped the man. Turning back to his guests, he stood up.

  "My apologies, gentlemen. It seems neither of us are to blame. The story seems to have been released by other parties. Shall we continue?

  "I was going to show you the stage we will be announcing from sometime tomorrow. You see the podium in the center. I'd like you both to be on my left in those first two chairs. My communic....

  "What's the matter?" He noticed the two staring at the podium. There was an intricate web of lines and curves. In the center, not obvious, but definitely there, if you looked carefully, were two designs. One was the pentacle circumscribed by a circle, and the other, the summation sign. Both were idealized and woven into the overall design such that they were partially hidden. One would pretty much have to know what to look for to see it in the design. But they had seen it - others would too.

  "Isn't that a pentagram?" asked Gerhardt. "A symbol tied to witchcraft, silly or not, won't go over very well with the general public. I'm surprised your people haven't said something about it."

  "You have very good perception. Few people notice it in the design. It wasn't my choice. It was given to me by the man who gave me the letter. The symbol is hidden within a complex design, still present, still open, but normally unseen. He said that if the time were right, this would make the difference. If not, he would return for it to pass on next time. I have no idea what he meant."

  "Make a difference how?" asked the elder Richter.

  "He claimed it was made of the very material that started us out, from that star thing. I don't know, or claim to understand, but I simply had it mounted on the podium as directed. "

  Hans stepped closer for a better look, then jumped back. "What was that?"

  * * *

  There was a quick flicker of the lights, but no one had really noticed. This time.

  Chapter 35

  Realization of Power

  Beg pardon?" asked the host.

  Hans stepped forward again, and grabbed his head. "That."

  He slowly continued moving toward the podium. "What is that?" This time the flicker was more noticeable. He stepped back to his chair and sat down.

  The elder Richter and Zarin looked at each other. Both frowned, and looked back at Hans.

  "Hans, what is it?"

  "It's, it's, kind of like, on the road. I, it felt kind of funny."

  "You okay, son? Want to lie down?"

  Assad Zarin was already on the phone, requesting his personal physician. Discretion was important, and his doctor would not be a problem.

  "No, I feel fine. It didn't hurt, it just kind of surprised me. I don't know why. I don't know what would have triggered that."

  Zarin was still across the room on the phone.

  "I know we just discussed that," he said softly so only his father could hear, "but I'm not stressed, not really. I feel completely in control. I'm okay now."

  He stood up. He was right, he felt fine. Actually, he felt kind of stupid. Stupid, but fine. Now there's a combination. Stupid, but fine. He shook his head.

  "I have my physician coming. Please rest a moment."

  "Thank you, but I'm fine. Really. There's nothing wrong. If it changes, I'll be happy to see him, but I'm fine now."

  "Very well, if you're sure, but please, it's no bother." He paused to make sure.

  "Well then," Zarin continued, "as I was saying, this is our communications center, as your father so accurately described. The cameras, of course, will be as you see them now. Not only do we have the formal background, but it can be switched at the touch of a button to a green screen, allowing us to use whatever background is most appropriate at a moment's notice, similar to any well-equipped television station."

  All three walked up to the stage.

  Again, he felt it. Not pain, but strength. He didn't feel worse, he realized that he felt better. He didn't say anything, but the feeling became - almost exhilarating. It didn't make sense. He looked around to see what could be causing it. For a moment he wondered if he had been drugged, but they hadn't taken anything. One more step forward, and he focused on the podium. More specifically, the carved emblem on the front. He could feel a surge as he reached forward. On closer examination, he could see the entire symbol wasn't a single piece, but rather, the original star symbol was made of some kind of stone, with the rest of the design added around it. In fact, as he looked more closely, he could see that the original stone was carved into a pentagram enclosed by a circle. Unless you were right next to it, you wouldn't know it. The lines and curves continued through and around it so that on casual glance, one would normally not see the star or its completed pentagram. Perhaps they had been overly concerned.

  He reached for it, slowly. Across the stage, his father and host were watching, curiously. They saw the way Hans was walking toward the emblem, and wondered what was going on.

  Something wasn't right. They could sense it in the air - an electric feeling, almost a scent of ozone, such as after a close lightning strike. As he came closer to the symbol, it became more intense, and they both felt it. They knew something was happening, something unexpected, something that was going to change everything.

  They watched as his hand reached for the symbol. When but a few inches away, a spark jumped across. The boy didn't jump, but continued, closer, closer. The spark jumped again, stronger, becoming continuous with that buzzing sound one sometimes hears on old neon signs. He touched the symbol, and there was a flash. Not a flash at the symbol, but of numerous lights in the room flaring up and burning out. He felt the power surging through him, then slowing, and stopping.

  He released the symbol and looked around at the stunned people around him, his father and Zarin among them. He felt more alive than he could ever remember. He stood taller, more powerfully. He smiled. This was it. This is what it had all been about.

  Gerhard and Zarin walked over, tentatively reaching out toward him. "Hans, son, are you okay? What just happened?"

  "This was what we have been waiting for, father. All these years. It has come to pass."

  Zarin reached out and touched the symbol. Nothing. Gerhardt likewise. Same. Hans then tried again. He felt the tingling, but there was nothing else. It had been released.

  "Hans? Did you get shocked? What happened? What do you mean?"

  Hans felt the power. He didn't know exactly what, or how, and certainly not why, but it was there. He reached toward a glass on the table beside the podium, about ten feet away, pointing, concentrating. It was there, he could feel it, he just knew it, had to focus it...

  The glass exploded, sending shards and water every direction. People in the room all stepped back, looked at each other, and began cautiously stepping towards the door. Something was happening here. Something dangerous. Something that made being there suddenly very risky. The room slowly, quietly, silently, became empty.

  No one spoke.

  The ramifications of what had just happened were racing through everyone's mind. Had someone been watching from the door, which none had dared do, they would have seen the three just standing there, staring at a broken glass, water dripping off the table and down the walls. Not moving, not speaking, just staring.

  Finally, Hans was the first to speak. "It is as it has been written, as we have prepared. This is the time, and as it was said, it is not I that is He, but you. I am here to announce, to protect, and to make the way clear for you." He bowed, deeply, dropping to one knee.

  Zarin, stunned, didn't know what to say. Cou
ld it really be true? He had made use of the stories, the legends, the myths- and added to them his own savagery, but could it actually, really all be true?

  "Stand up, please, stand up." Zarin reached to help him up. Hans stood.

  Gerhardt didn't know what to do. What to say. What to think. All their worlds had just been turned completely upside down and inside out. Looking outside the doorway, he could see members of the inner circle. All were prostate. As if part way through their prayers, they just stopped, on their knees, faces to the ground. Even from there he could see some were trembling.

  Zarin was in a similar state. He looked around, also seeing the prostrate generals, the shattered light bulbs, the glass and water all over the table. He suddenly felt powerless, fearful of this boy, this man, this- this creation. This being had bowed to him. Saying the he was the master, the one he followed.

  His mind flashed to the Frankenstein in Western literature. What if the creation turned on its own master? He would be powerless against this. But the boy also spoke of the writings, and he was apparently bound by them. Who knew, perhaps something would happen if he didn't do what he was supposed to.

  He had to take charge of the situation or lose it. He shook off the fear, the questions, the unknown. Taking command once again, he called out for his staff. They came in, slowly, heads down, afraid to look at him or the boy.

  "We have work to do. It's time. And stop hanging your heads and bowing - it's your job to make the rest of the world hang and bow theirs."

  * * *

  In a matter of a few hours, there were few that hadn't heard what happened. Of course, that was a security leak, but being wise in the ways of communication, Zarin looked the other way. He knew the story would travel, and grow, and reap results far beyond anything he could personally do.

  In that way, the Proclaimer was doing his job, in a way no one would ever have thought, and far more effectively than anyone could have imagined. Far more impressive than a magic show on television, his mystique was growing, mere hours later. Truly the writings were prophetic.

  * * *

  Time was booked, and teaser spots/ announcements played steadily for a major news announcement breaking in four hours' time. Richter was earning his pay now - connections were lining up around the world, with bought, traded, and time on credit arranged. And now, Oprah and Jerry and all the others were vying to get time with them. Along with the video from the morgue showing Hans walking out, which had gone viral, and now the leaks about the strange man that could point and destroy....

  * * *

  The whole world would be watching.

  Chapter 36

  The world is watching

  Indeed, the whole world was watching. And some of it was even paying attention. Not to the stories of the Magic Man, no one was buying that in this office, but clearly action was being taken. Besides, it didn't matter if they believed the stories going around, what was important is what the people believed. And right now, a lot of people were willing to believe in anything. The rabid anti-Israeli rhetoric had been notched up several spots, with many vocal supporters using this as their opportunity to slam Israel, or the U.S., or western civilization, or any combination of the above, depending on who one was listening to. It was this talk that was making the people in this office nervous.

  With each speaker trying to cash in on the increased limelight, each one had to go a step farther to keep the focus on himself. The publicity was building on itself. The Proclaimer had not yet uttered a single word in public, not one word, yet the entire world was now buzzing. With that many people racing up closer and closer to the edge, the worry was who was going over first. And once they began falling, it would be over. It would be out of anyone's hands.

  Word began racing around the world, using an internet that allowed it to multiply faster and faster, and with each receiver of an announcement passing it onto ten others within moments. The charlatans and opportunists that thrived on controversy quickly saw their opportunity and began to make their move. They and their followers headed for the streets. With word of a Chosen One arriving, and Magic Man there to assist, many felt that this was their time to shine, and consequences would be out the window. Violence began exploding throughout, first in the hotbeds of the Middle East, where any excuse was a good one, followed by neighborhoods throughout the rest of the world.

  Problems that would have taken weeks to develop into full blown riots in the past could now, fanned by worldwide access and speed of the internet, take effect in hours.

  Men and women from around the world were sitting in their own various conference rooms debating what to do about this new potential threat. The people in these rooms were charged with protecting their own specific countries first, and others in the world took second place. The riots and uprisings had sprung up so quickly, and with so little direct cause, leaders were at a loss of how to appropriately deal with them. The anarchists were making use of the opportunity, and the looters, being of no particular political persuasion, jumped at the opportunity to start breaking into the stores. Leaders were getting concerned. These were the times that the wrong people with the right words would jump in and try to take control of the situations. Any time there was anarchy, there was fear. With fear, there would be a call for strength. That was when the strongest ones walked in and took over, not by force, but by general acclaim.

  Suddenly there were fingers, and not necessarily the best ones, on buttons all over.

  * * *

  When Colonel Rothstein came back on duty, the entire world was spinning at a much faster rate beneath his plane. One of the ideas behind his being there in the first place was that at least some of the fingers on the various buttons would hesitate, knowing he and others were watching from above in his position of Eye in the Sky. He would be among the first to spot attacking planes or missiles. This was in addition to serving as a replacement for Air Traffic Control, able to serve on an international basis. A relatively neutral, stable, powerful third party could balance and watch for the effects of one out of control madman. No surprise strikes. With his ability to contact defensive batteries on both sides, he could and did play referee. And all sides knew it, even if they didn't like it or concede it on television when playing to audiences.

  Normally, that's the way it worked, when everyone is playing at least somewhat nicely. But now, calls were being monitored to and from everyone. Afraid of being caught on the ground, aircraft were in the air all over. Units, as a precaution, had moved from garrison to the field. Needless to say, the Colonel was no longer bored. Cell phone towers were being overwhelmed as people started getting concerned and calling family members, resulting in frightening breaks in communication.

  No one wanted to be caught with their pants down, so everyone began calling their people in. Police departments, hospitals, extra staff at the local stores to meet the increased demand always present when trouble started. When trouble happens, lines begin forming at gas stations. When the news showed lines starting at the gas stations, people headed to the grocery store, and more got in line for gas. Hoarding had begun. It had the look of hurricane preparation in areas that hadn't seen rain in months.

  Tempers began to flare.

  So people started tuning in to the news, awaiting an announcement, any announcement. Some with expectation, some in fear, most out of curiosity. Something was happening, but people didn't know exactly what. It must be important, though, because they saw people in the streets and in line. When they saw that, one of two things happened. One group went to the street, where they joined the lines at the stores and gas stations, or joined those marching, or protesting, or warning, or getting ready to riot. The other group just stayed home, sat down in front of the TV, and stayed glued to the news. For good or bad, the world was beginning to rotate around two people no one had ever seen, and virtually no one had ever heard of.

  * * *

  One man left his home and was standing in line, not at the grocery store or gas station
, but at the airport. He was oblivious, no not oblivious, rather just uncaring about what was happening around him. The chaos being initiated could only help the situation. He was here to board an airplane, to leave the facade he'd been living under all these years to claim his reward for a job very well done.

  The man was dressed in an expensive Armani suit. Purchased for over a thousand dollars nearly six months ago, this was his first opportunity to wear it. He only wore suits like this when he traveled. He would never have gotten away with it at home. He looked up at the clock as he was waved through to the first class boarding, and glanced down to confirm the time, checking a five thousand dollar Rolex. He couldn't have worn that at work either. He'd left his office at the Vatican where the note would be found, along with an item he had no more use for, the next, well, perhaps right about now. It didn't matter anymore. It was a simple note.

  "I serve a God far greater than yours."

  No more vow of poverty for Father Sartini.

  * * *

  His package, securely wrapped and stored in the checked baggage, was to be presented at the meeting. Regrettably, there was no time to examine it with Richter before. This greatly disappointed him, as he wanted to present it in person. Given the option, he'd rather have hung onto it, kept control of it, and made sure to cash in on its presentation. He wanted to make sure his name was up front on the proceedings. He wanted to be sure he wouldn't be left out of the proceedings.

  * * *

  He'd been faxed special access passes for himself and his package, and he had just enough time to get there. He was to bring the package directly to the event staff for presentation, as there was no time for him to do it himself. He'd been assured that he'd be able to meet privately with Richter himself after, that the leaders wanted to meet with the man who had accomplished what none other had all these years. He didn't know how much of it was just the man stroking him, but he had no choice. He'd have to trust that he'd be able to see him after the event. He'd protected himself, though. Like Depardieu, he knew what he was doing. He'd taken dozens of photos of the box, and the items inside. Pictures with and without him. Pictures with newspapers to document the date. He was going to make sure they didn't forget him. Not that he was trying to blackmail or threaten them - not by any means. He had found and presented the chest because it was the destiny of man, His destiny. The World's destiny. He was proud to have accomplished it. He was just playing it smart - keeping some information to be on the safe side, just in case.