19
On the Twenty-fifth Anniversary of the Glorious Fourth Reich, a special Sunday service was held at the Reich Temple. In attendance were Valhalla’s over twenty-five thousand residents. The complex’s two newspapers, Der Sturmer and the Volkisch, had been announcing for weeks that there would be a special announcement at the ceremony delivered personally by the Reich Gott. All of Valhalla’s residents waited with great anticipation for the announcement.
On the main stage, Heinrich Mueller, the High Priest, stood the right of Das Maschine containing the Reich Gott. To the left was the reclusive Dr. Josef Schreiber. With the exception of those who worked at the Schreiber Institute and the few remaining original inhabitants of Valhalla, barely any of the attendees recognized him. For years he had restricted himself to the confines of the institute, performing endless diabolical experiments on Jewish victims in his surgical laboratory. Thousands had died under his scalpel, and yet the goals of his experiments remained obscure even to his closest colleagues. For the past few weeks, however, Dr. Schreiber had been emerging from the Institute on a daily basis, meeting privately with the Reich Gott for hours.
The ceremony began as a regular Sunday service. Near the end of the service, however, Dr. Schreiber lifted up a black cloth to reveal that several new modules had been attached to Das Maschine. After a short pause of complete silence, to everyone’s astonishment, a voice was heard over the Reich Temple’s loudspeaker system. It had a somewhat mechanical quality, but it was unmistakably the voice of Hitler.
Dr. Schreiber had finally fulfilled his promise by having successfully added the modules to Das Maschine that would let Hitler hear and speak. He was also near completion of a third module which would allow vision. However, after discussions with Hitler via the teletype, he had been ordered to install the two working modules and save the visual module for a later ceremony upon its completion.
Hitler addressed his people as if he was back on stage in 1930s Nuremberg.
“Using my power as the Reich Gott, the beginning of a new era in the history of the world is about to begin. In just three days, I will unleash my vengeance against the peoples of the upper world.”
“The first country to feel my wrath will be the so-called State of Israel. This country made up of subhuman mongrels, untermenschen, is polluting the hallowed ground of our planet. They believe they are the chosen people. I will expose this lie. Israel will be the first country that I will destroy. On that day I will kill all the Jews, including those living in Valhalla.”
“I will then proceed to kill the remainder of mankind. When this holy work is complete, I will send you, my children of pure Aryan blood, out of the Halls of Valhalla to repopulate the world. The coming Fourth Reich will encompass all of Earth. For I will rule the world forever.”
Tears flowed down the jubilant faces of the congregants. Heinrich Mueller and Professor Broder couldn’t believe their ears. It was, without a doubt, the same Hitler they had known and loved, speaking to them once again in his own voice. They were so overwhelmed that they began to repeatedly shout at the top of their lungs, “Heil the Reich Gott! Heil the Reich Gott!”
Soon, all of the citizens of Valhalla were on their feet, shouting “Heil the Reich Gott!” The deafening noise shook the air of the caverns for over fifteen minutes.
Finally, Mueller called upon the crowd to be quiet, motioning with his hands. Silence fell over the Reich Temple.
Again Hitler’s voice came in over the loudspeaker. “Professor Broder, come stand with me.”
Broder, in emotional ecstasy having heard the Reich Gott address him directly, immediately jumped to attention. Even though he had grown old in the sunless caverns, he sprang up with the energy of his youth and raced to the stage, remembering the exuberance he had felt at the numerous Hitler rallies he had attended before the War. He proudly stood next to Mueller in a state of euphoria.
Hitler continued, “Professor Broder, you have served me with total devotion. You have fulfilled your solemn vow not to rest until you achieved success. Now you have fulfilled your purpose in the world, providing the Fourth Reich the ultimate weapon which we will use against our manifold enemies.”
“I will now bestow upon you the highest honor possible. You will have the glorious distinction of being the first human sacrifice to me, the Reich Gott.”
Broder, upon hearing Hitler’s proclamation, became confused. He thought to himself, “After all these years of locking myself up in the laboratory, have I forgotten the difference between reward and punishment?”
Looking at the smiling, envious faces of the thousands of residents of Valhalla, he resigned himself to his fate. With a mighty thrust of his arm, he gave a final Nazi salute, shouting repeatedly, “Heil the Reich Gott!” He then bent over and placed his head on the altar.
High Priest Mueller walked over to the altar and raised the ceremonial silver sword. In one swift motion he brought the razor-sharp blade down onto Professor Broder’s neck. Broder’s head rolled off the block into a gold basket. Mueller then lifted Broder’s head out of the regal basket by its hair and displayed it high in the air as blood flowed out of its severed neck. The congregation broke out in wild jubilation. They chanted together, “Heil the Reich Gott” with sublime intensity.
Afterwards, the remainder of Broder’s team were called up and one by one sacrificed to the Reich Gott. When the ceremony ended, Hitler instructed Mueller to destroy all of the research concerning the Strain. Hitler had a practical reason for doing this. In Hitler’s mind, thee Strain was to be a one-time weapon of mass destruction comparable to Noah’s Flood. Once the world had been emptied of its current inhabitants, there would be no more need for the Strain. Additionally, Hitler was concerned that one of the scientists would have second thoughts about their role in the mass murder of billions and somehow leak word to the outside.
That same day the Messengers gathered in Bonn, Germany for their own ceremony marking the successful placement of twenty thousand cylinders across the globe. Only for Israel had Mueller used an outside agency to place the cylinders, because Hitler had felt that it was inappropriate to send an Aryan to the cursed ground of a Jewish country.
At the end of the ceremony, the Messengers were ordered to open a small pendant hanging from their necks. They each removed the small brown cyanide tablet within and swallowed it. Then they raised their arms high and declared, “Heil the Reich Gott!” Seconds later they were dead.
With this final act of obedience to the Reich Gott, there was no longer any evidence of the existence of Valhalla or the Strain Project outside of the complex. All that remained were the bodies of the Messengers and letters by Adolf Hitler send to the leaders of all the countries of the world informing them of their imminent destruction.
The following day, West German police were alerted to the discovery of dozens of bodies in an abandoned industrial facility in what appeared to be a mass suicide. Unfortunately, the investigators had no idea of its significance.
The only hope for the world that remained was Joshua 74575. However, Joshua was locked in solitary confinement in a sub-basement of a prison in Tripoli. Moreover, he was about to be executed in just two short days.
20
Upon leaving Tel Hashomer Hospital, Ronald Fletcher drove directly to the United States Embassy in Tel Aviv. He knew there was hell to be paid for going AWOL. Furthermore, he was sure that his higher-ups had realized that the unusual activity at the PLGA base in Lebanon was somehow linked to his absence. Fletcher just didn’t give a damn. He had warrior blood in his veins, and the commando attitude of “I just don’t really care what you think.” Still, he was somewhat concerned about the valuable time he might have to waste dealing with his superiors.
Being Sunday, there was only a skeleton crew in the building. That suited Fletcher just fine, as he was in no mood to answer questions. As he entered the Embassy building, he passed the American Marine guard. It gave him a warm feeling to know that he was entering a secure h
aven for Americans in a foreign country.
Fletcher rode the elevator to the third floor and used his key to open his locked office. There was a stack of memos on his desk, mostly copies of reports had been forwarded from other intelligence services.
A CIA memo regarding an unusual letter received by the White House mail office caught his eye. Attached to the memo was a copy of the letter. It read:
To the President of the United States of America,
Soon your country will fear the wrath of the Reich Gott. Behold, I will unleash a second Holocaust against the Jews that will begin on the twenty-fifth of June. You will observe in horror as my cylinders of justice bring me my long-awaited revenge. The following day it will be your country’s turn to experience my vengeance.
Adolf Hitler
The memo concluded with a report from the Federal Bureau of Investigation’s Forensic Laboratory. It stated that the letter, which had been mailed from a public post office box at Chicago’s O’Hare International Airport, was printed on a German teletype machine made between the years 1942 and 1944. The paper was similar to teletype paper that was found in a bombed-out factory in Dresden in 1945.
After carefully reviewing the memo, Fletcher was certain that the “cylinders” mentioned in the letter referred to those brought by Ali Rajad into Israel. He also was sure that the three Germans who had met with Rajad were connected to “Adolf Hitler.”
Fletcher sat down his chair to think. Unconsciously, he picked up the Newsweek Magazine he had bought at the hospital. Thumbing through the pages he noticed the feature story of the week. It concerned the trial of an alleged Israeli spy who had been sentenced to death in Libya. The article included some color pictures of the accused individual. Fletcher stared at the picture and suddenly made a connection. The alleged spy had the same ghostly skin tone as the three Germans who had met with Rajad.
Fletcher rushed out of his office and drove to the only person that he felt could provide him with some answers, Rachel Bronot. The offices of her anti-terrorist organization, Nekama, were located at the national military headquarters, HaKirya. Ron was grateful that in Israel, all government offices were open on Sunday.
Fletcher parked his car and walked over to HaKirya’s main gate. Handing his U.S. Embassy identification card to one of guards, he said that he would like to speak with Rachel Bronot. The guard scrutinized the photograph on the card and then asked him to wait, disappearing into the complex.
Five minutes later he returned with Bronot.
“Hello, Ron! I thought you Americans didn’t work on Sundays. Did you come to visit?”
Fletcher was not in the mood for banter. “This is strictly business.”
They walked through the park-like area leading to the office building where Nekama was located and took the elevator to Bronot’s office. Fletcher sat down opposite Bronot in front of her desk. His body language screamed that he had something important to tell her.
Fletcher began. He systematically reviewed all of the information he had gathered from the PLGA base, leaving out the details of just how exactly it had been obtained. He then described the letter that had been received from “Adolf Hitler.” Fletcher knew the only way to get intelligence from the Israelis was to show as much of one’s hand that was permissible. Once they were convinced of your sincerity, they usually opened up.
Rachel smiled. “You haven’t been to Rajad’s base by any chance? I’ve received several reports that the base, along with hundreds of PLGA terrorists, was mysteriously wiped out. And us much as we Israelis would love to take credit, it wasn’t us. In fact, there is a rumor circulating that the base was destroyed by one angry man. Do you know anything about it?”
Fletcher gave a cold stare at the beautiful spy chief and replied, “Maybe. Are you going to cooperate or not?”
Rachel knew Fletcher had given Israel at least a fighting chance against Rajad and his cylinders of death. Her question about the PLGA was rhetorical, as she had confirmatory evidence that the man responsible was Fletcher. He had done Israel a great service in destroying the PLGA base of terror.
“Ron, I’m going to let you know what we found. First, we received a similar letter warning us of our impeding destruction. Also, while you were away, we recovered two of the three cylinders. Our forces are scouring the country in search of the third cylinder.
“Our scientists discovered the hard way that the cylinders contain some sort of deadly biological material. It is so dangerous that the missing cylinder contains enough of the material to wipe out the whole country. We are still trying to determine how the cylinders are activated. Unfortunately, I understand this will take some time.”
Fletcher tried to digest the new information. “I have some information concerning the approximate location of the third cylinder. I would be more than glad to share it with you. What I need is your permission to have one of our experts examine the cylinders you have.”
Bronot thought for a moment. “If I can arrange for your expert to examine the cylinders, it will have to done here in Israel. They cannot be moved from their present location, which is a contaminated laboratory.”
“Deal,” Ron replied. “Next question: Who is that guy in Libya?”
Bronot was taken aback. “Honestly, we have no idea who that man is. And not for lack of trying to find out.”
“I think he’s the key to stopping Rajad. I’ve got to speak to him.”
Bronot was confused. “I’m not sure where you’re coming from, but I’ll take your word for it. So far, you’ve been spot on.”
“The problem is, I can’t get to him.”
“We’ve actually been working on that, however, for a totally different reason. Apparently, when he found by the Libyan army, he handed the soldiers on patrol a Hebrew bible.
“I’m sure you’re aware that our Prime Minister is devoutly religious. When the Chief of the Mossad told this information to the Prime Minister, he was livid. He said that the man must be Jewish, and, according to our tradition, saving a Jewish soul is equivalent to saving an entire world. He demanded that we find a way to rescue him before the execution.”
“Is it possible?”
“Logic says it’s not. The prison is impregnable. Also, the route to the execution in Martyrs’ square is supposed to be lined by practically every soldier in the Libyan army.”
“Since when did you Israelis become so logical?” asked Fletcher.
“Ah, Ron, I see you’re on to our game. Very good. Well, I spoke to the Mossad Chief today and he presented a plan that defies logic.”
Bronot summarized the details of the plan with Fletcher. “What do you think?”
“I like it.” Ron smirked.
“Are you with us?”
“I can’t answer for my government. As you probably have already gathered, I have my own agenda in this matter. But I’m with you personally if you agree to one condition.”
“What’s that?”
“I choose the stand-in.”
Rachel smiled at Ron. “Deal.”
After meeting with Bronot, Fletcher drove directly to the United States Ambassador to Israel’s villa in Herzliya, just north of Tel Aviv.
The Ambassador, Wendell J. Cranston III, was a self-made billionaire. He had founded the most cutthroat and universally despised law firm on Wall Street, but had given it all up to peruse his dream of becoming the United States Ambassador to England. As a self-identified bigwig, all he wanted to do was spend his days hobnobbing with kindred souls. And as a top donor to the President’s campaign, Cranston had been high on the list of candidates. Unfortunately, an unintentional snub of the Secretary of State’s wife at a state dinner doomed his short-term prospects. Still, the President assured him that if he did a good job in Israel, he had a good chance of getting the post when it opened up after the next elections.
Fletcher knew that Cranston, despite his pretentiousness, was a man of action. In fact, that is precisely why the President gave him the toughest assignment
in the diplomatic corps. Fletcher knocked on the door and was greeted by Cranston’s imported English butler who showed him into the Ambassador’s study.
Cranston then entered the room. “Ronald, please let me express my deepest sympathy to you and your children. Mary was a remarkable woman, and we will deeply miss her.”
He then gave Fletcher a castigating look. “You know, it wasn’t very professional for to send your assistant to inform me of your leave of absence. Where were you?”
Ron wasn’t about to tell the Ambassador about his unauthorized raid on the PLGA. Instead, he ducked the question. “Well, I was depressed about my wife’s murder. I had to get away for a few days.”
“Of course, how insensitive of me,” Cranston sighed unconvincingly.
“You have a big responsibility on our team. I’m sure you realize the Israel military establishment has a great deal of respect for you. You represent the United States that the free world so much wants to believe in: strong, soft-spoken, and always ready for action.”
Fletcher thought to himself, “Cranston could deliver a two-hour speech praising a mannequin.”
He decided to jump into the purpose of his visit. “Sir, did you read that unusual CIA memo about the threat to destroy Israel and the United States?”
“Yes, nasty business that. I believe the madman signed the letter as Adolf Hitler. Well, what about it?”
“I’ve received some evidence supporting the claim. In fact, I believe the threat is real.” He filled in the Ambassador regarding Rajad’s meeting with the Germans and the smuggling of the cylinders into Israel.
Cranston listened carefully. When Ron finished, the Ambassador walked to the window facing the garden and stared out for a long moment. Then he turned to Fletcher.
“I’m afraid to admit it, but what you say is quite concerning. If your conclusions are correct, we are facing a serious threat. On the other hand, you realize, some of this is mere conjecture. How am I to convince the Secretary of State that pale men with German accents are prancing around the desert? We need real evidence. And secondly, we need to determine whether these cylinders are really as dangerous as the Israelis claim.”
Agent of Vengeance Page 16