BOOK 2- ELEVEN ELECTORS
Or Hessians are coming

	Contents
BOOK 2- ELEVEN ELECTORS	1
Chapter 1- HESSIAN CANNIBAL	1
Carlos Lehder Rivas goes to Ingolstadt	1
Chapter 2- GOTHIC CRIME SYNDICATE	5
A German-American at his best	5
Massacre in Erfurt -A wave of  Confession hysteria	9
Dec 1, 2003	10
Dec 2, 2003	15
Massacre in Erfurt reported	17
Chapter 3- LION OF JUDA AGAINST HOUSE SAXE-COBURG-GOTHA	18
Castle Coburg	18
Siegfried of Agatha Christie, Passanger to Frankfurt, 1970	22
Code Horowitz	23
Chapter 4- NUMEROLOGY IN A MEDIEVAL CASTLE OF DDR	31
More of Code Horowitz	31
Handbook of Usurpations for Dummies	40
Chapter 5- SOVEREIGN ORDER OF MALTA	41
Dr. Kraft-Ebbing arrives with bad tidings	41
Vaccination	44
Chapter 6- POX GERMANA	47
Europe is not enough for General Pox	47
Suppression of Jesuits	48
***From Jose of Portugal to Carlos of Spain (Leave to Book 5 - Paraguay)	49
Innoculate and conquer	49
Coburg and his General Pox	49
A Gothic Movie: The Neighbors	56
Smallpox inoculation leak	57
Chapter 7- ELECTOR OF BAVARIA	58
Berchtesgaden	58
Elector of Bavaria and his Count Rumford	59
Dec 5, 2003	67
Martha Washington goes to War	67
Ten Cents for Worries of Bavaria	68
Chapter 8- INCIDENT IN WARSAW	70
Dec 6, 2003	70
Elector of Saxony	75
Dec 8, 2003	75
Vehmic Tribunals	77
Dec 9, 2003	77
END OF BOOK TWO	79
Book Three - Mad baron of Mongolia	80





	Chapter 1- HESSIAN CANNIBAL

	Carlos Lehder Rivas goes to Ingolstadt

A Gholem for a while in service of Lucifer the Illuminated

I was lost in deliberations for a few minutes until my attention turned to the screen monitor.

Lehder was driving into the town of Ingolstadt.  He slowed down on a medieval street and performed a curious ritual; he lowered the glass and showed his left palm to a camera attached to a light post. Then he sped up again. He left the car in a parking lot, and walked into a medieval building. The terrain looked kind of scary too. The word Gothic flashed into my mind; is that what they call Gothic, I wondered. He passed by the information desk in the wide and high hall tainted with light through stained glass and walked the dark stairs down into a basement. He walked a subterranean corridor bending every now and then to avoid cobwebs and entered a huge room that was more like a cave.  Our camera was directly behind him. Time on the monitor was the same as the time on digital clock. Besides, the text on monitor said:

‘Real Time...’

This was happening right now. Lehder chased away an insect before opening the door. He closed the heavy door behind him, looked inside the room as if to satisfy himself that everything was as he had left it before, nodded at a book on the table and stepped towards it. Our camera zoomed in on the book on the table and we could read the title:

‘The Illuminati… by Robert Anton Wilson.’

He opened the book and took a folded paper that was inside it. He opened the paper. It was a hand written list of towns. He picked a pencil lying on the table, inspected it carefully, even sniffed it, and then used it to mark three lines from out of the long list.

‘Erfurt… Fulda… Warsaw…’

There was a phone number next to each town on that paper. He reached for a heavy wooden case that hid an antique phone, picked it up and dialed, eyes still fixed on the paper. The phone was ringing. At that moment, another monitor went live in our space orb with blinking text:

‘Receiving coordinates…Warsaw…Meridian… Parallel’

I knew what to expect next. True enough, the blank monitor was filled with a picture of the planet Earth that came nearer at tremendous speed and within seconds we were looking at a phone booth in what must be the central area of Warsaw City in Poland. The phone was indeed ringing but there was none near the public booth to answer it.

Back on the first monitor, Lehder looked at his watch and then looked the list over. He dialed another number. As soon as it started ringing, a third monitor in our space orb went live and blinked:

‘Receiving coordinates…Fulda… Meridian… Parallel’

At this same time, we still had the second monitor on Warsaw, that same phone booth featuring, and the coordinates fixed. Nothing moving there except feet of distant pedestrians. 

On Fulda monitor however, the coordinates were rapidly rolling. The picture zoomed until we were watching a racing car. It was a BMW. At first the view moving with the car was erratic and then steady, giving the view from behind the back sit. Coordinates were rolling on the monitor in proportion to the speed with which the receiving phone was moving inside the automobile. 

There were altogether four persons in that car. Command sit had a cell phone in hand held to his ear. He was talking with Lehder.

‘Sonder Kommando Schmidt!’

’Do it Schmidt!’

‘It is been decided?’

‘Just do it!’

‘Jawohl!’

That was all. The transmission ended but we had all three monitors running. We could sea and hear both sides to that transmission even after it ended. It appeared that once we had a camera on an object, we could stay with that object I knew not for how long.   

Lehder had the list still in his hand but instead of making his other two calls, he was pacing the room nervously. He was also cursing someone. He even kicked the wall and broke loose some fragments of stone or concrete from the cragged surface. Something that Sonder Kommando said must have irritated him.  But all he said was two phrases: it is been decided? And Jawohl. Lehder kicked the wall again while repeating to himself, ‘just do it! Just do it!’ Maybe it was something that ought to be said out of proper respect but was left out. Like, your highness.

I would not want to miss the next calls Lehder was about to make but since he was taking his time kicking walls, I turned my attention to the view of that racing car. The four persons were watching the road with care of predators. The command sit looked ahead and then at the driver as if distraction of the call had lost him a prey. The driver just pointed in the general direction they were following. When they took a turn and crossed a bridge on a creek, I could see the auto they were chasing or tailing. It was a Toyota. There was one man in it. After the bridge the road was solitary and narrow. It traced a river, like connecting two small towns.

‘Perverted Ladino!’ said the command sit, talking to himself.

‘How do you know?’ asked the driver without looking.

‘Was never in Manila. Not even in Bangkok!’

‘Ach so. Why not?’

‘Dangerous Columbian dark horse. Surely Straight. No guessing what he is capable of.’

‘Not your problem, is it?’ 

‘Doch! May become our problem yet. After this job.’

‘Ach so! Easy job. He won’t suspect a thing.’

‘Jawohl. Easy… and slow. Give him a taste of the master race he thinks to have under his command.’

They were still driving along the river and close behind the prey.

‘Now?’ asked the driver of Sonder Kommando, pointing at the Toyota ahead of them.

‘Jetzt!’ said the command sit.

The pursuing car sped up and overtook the prey. In doing so, it hit driver side of the Toyota violently, smashing the door inwards. We could see the target person for a brief moment when the two cars were level. The prey remained calm and slowed down hesitating between stopping and speeding away. No doubt assuming he had to do with four drunks who might be malevolent or just clumsy. At this moment the back right seat threw out a beer bottle, which crushed on the road. Back right seat had thin hand gloves on. Like gloves of surgeons in TV operation room serials, except these were almost invisible skin color.

The BMW sped along, leaving the Toyota behind. Command seat handed a bag to the back seat. Muffled guns came out of it, made ready and put on the upholstery.

‘Just in case’ said the command seat. ‘If we cannot crush him.’

I realized now that they meant to kill the Toyota man. Poor fellow stood no chance because he did not know what was coming at him or what had been planned over a long time. He had been tailed, possibly for months, all his daily routines discovered, best places for ambush marked and the killing act rehearsed. He was going to be killed without even knowing why. He was being deceived to the last minute. That beer bottle was an essential part of the deception. I felt an indescribably oppression. This kind of cowardly killer mentality is sickening. So much unlike most predators in the nature.  

For whatever reason, I suddenly thought of meticulous arrangements around gas chambers of concentration camps. False impressions evoked all along the extermination process, up to the last moment. Signs on the walls: this way to shower rooms, hang all your clothes here, notice the wardrobe number so you can recover your clothes after the shower, coffee hall is that way, etc. etc. Red cross cars, doctors in white garbs, no nonsense blond nurses hurrying around… Signs in all Slav dialects supposedly directing the prey but in fact designed to keep it in ignorance of the mass murder that has been going on for years. Sanitary Abteilung, Wash detergents, new clothes etc. etc.

A sense of urgency came over me. Something has to be done. Let not help come too late again. I looked around myself in the space orb. All the six monks were intensely looking at the monitor. They were not like doing anything. I did not know what they could do to save that man but I wished very much that they should try at least. But they stood as uselessly as the US Navy anchored in Pearl Harbor while Paris, let alone Warsaw,  was under Nazi boots. Nothing moving. I felt like the Japanese who must have wondered at American inaction in Havaii beaches while Europe burned, and suspected a category of perversion the depths of which were not accessible to the oriental mind. At the time I knew not that history of the civilized part of the world is made of an infinite series of such unfathomable Jesuitry. I felt an insuppressible need to stirr the false and treacherous quiet of Pearl Harbour on Hawaii beeches.

‘Are we losing that man?’ I asked incredulously while pointing at the monitor.

‘Now?’ asked the young monk and I realized that the old monk had his hand in the air, palm down, while his eyes were fixed on the monitor.

‘Now!’ said the old monk, bringing his hand down and the young monk touched a button on the remote.

I don’t know what I expected to happen but I was much disappointed to see the picture on the monitor just the same as before. It was still the view from behind the back seat of killer BMW and the four killers were still alive and well. No laser beam from outer space blasting them to pieces. No carry-all space craft lifting them clear off the planet and good riddance. No Robocop blocking their way with blazing guns in hands. Nothing. The four killers were on business as usual. They were driving ahead of the Toyota on this deserted road. They were going to play cat and mouse or rather dog and cat before finishing the job. There was nothing on earth to stop them.

Suddenly all four killers in the BMW frantically chased away some insect we could not see on the monitor. We did not even hear any buzzing which obviously they had heard. All four window panes rose in the doors and sealed the passangers from the unfriendly nature. The driver must have touched a button. The area they were passing through had an overgrowth of greenery, which I assumed to be source of the thing annoying them. 

‘The river is full of bugs.’ said the command post. ‘Get to that hill and stop a little. I have got things to tell you guys.’

The BMW came off the road, moved over the grassy slope and stopped on the bald hill from which they could see the rest of the road.  One solitary Toyota was cruising ahead.

‘We should finish him first’ said the driver.

‘That village he is driving into is end of the road. He cannot escape but must come back by this way’ said the command post. ‘In the meantime I have got important things I must tell you.’

‘Tell then.’ Said the driver in a rebellious tone. He did not like this interruption, which was most probably neither planned ahead nor rehearsed yet. ‘I have things to tell you too.’

‘Remember when you were arrested in Manila?’ said the command post to the driver.

‘Sure. I never understood why they picked me from the hotel room and no one else. I mean all those hotels are in the same business, filled with German tourists with all passports of the world. I was not the only one, you know. But luckily, you were there too and you saved me from the brutal police.’

‘Well, Hans, I must tell you know that I arranged for your arrest in the first place.’

‘You, Schmidt? But you did not even know me at the time.’

‘No, that is not true. You did not know me. I had been tailing you all the way from Frankfurt to Bangkok and Manila.’

‘But why?’

‘To recruit you, idiot. Those were my orders. I also got tapes on you. All Manila hotel rooms are taped you know.’

 ‘So, where is the problem? You recruited me, didn’t you?’

‘Just wanted to say it.’

‘Well, Schmidt, I must tell you now that I have orders to eliminate you after this job.’

‘Why?’

‘Orders. Then I get your job.’

‘How?’

‘How eliminate? Standard procedure. Only the skull to be delivered as proof of contract; the rest is mine.’

The back seat killers were listening to these mutual confessions nervously. They both had the muffled guns ready in their hands. Then they looked at each other and both of them talked at the same time.

‘Bremer, It was I who killed your dog that night we buried remains of the things.’

‘Ruhmsfeld, It was I who blackmailed you with those ritual murder tapes.’

‘Bremer, It was I who burglared your room to get those ritual murder tapes you had on me. I planted in their place a copy tape of Diana and one of Margaret Bourbon-Pharma.’

'I thought mine were just stolen by you know who. I never found the plants in their place.'

'I removed and destroyed them, idiots! You could ruin my career with your petty bickerings, had I not had both of you tailed all the time.' said the command post.

They were pointing at each other with the long muzzles of muffled guns. To emphasise the grief, eachkiller was pushing with the extended muzzle of the gun on the other’s chests. Then, puff, puff, and both of them dropped dead on the back seat of the BMW. Command sit and driver were looking at them incredulously. They two had muffled guns in their hands.

‘Well, Hans…’

‘Well, Schmidt…’

Puff, puff and these too collapsed. All was quiet for a while and then we could hear birds chirruping. 

In the space orb, the six monks were silent. They watched the view, as seen from behind the back seat of the BMW, without slightest comment by word or demeanor.

‘Well, our man is saved now!’ I said jubilant. ‘What a coincidence that they would go berserk just before killing an innocent civilian. How I wish this very thing would happen before every collateral damage on the planet.’

The Oriental company examined me quietly and, as I felt very much sure of, approvingly. The technical monk pointed at the lower part of the monitor where a small text stood. It said:

‘Confession hysteria…’

The reason I had not noticed it so far was because the text was too small and it was not blinking. It also had too little a contrast with the background.

‘They were confessing things they had done against each other? Is such a thing possible?’

The technical monk nodded. The others were inert. No reaction.

‘These killers have been working together for a long time and hiding all that staff from each other? What a pressure. No wonder it exploded. Fortunate timing. Our sensors can detect moods and feelings too! Why, that is way ahead of Eschelon, the Ears and Eyes of planet Voltar.’ I said.

The older monk pointed at the monitor in a grave or strictly business mood. A police car had arrived and a helicopter was landing too. It was a gigantic black helicopter. Two elderly persons in white garb of doctors came out of the chopper and walked to the car. Following them were people, in strange evil medieval uniforms, bringing stretchers. obvioulsy the bodies were to be taken away by the helicopter. Now I could see that the uniforms had huge Maltese crosses on them. Like Knights of Malta caring for pilgrims. The two doctors examined the four bodies.

‘What do you think, Dr. Wackenhut? Sonderkommando?’

‘Jawohl, Prof. Krugge. Destabilized. Happens all the time.’

‘To Schwarzwald?’

‘So fort. Autopsy. Then to Aargau.’

‘I must inform den Graff von Hesse-Kassel.’

’Jawohl, Prof. Krugge’

They moved back to the black helicopter. The view we had was still from behind the back seat of that BMW. We could still sea the road to the small village into which that Toyota had disappeared. Just as the doctors were walking to their helicopter, a car appeared on the road coming from the small village. It slowed down a little as it passed the crowd of police on the hill as if expecting to be stopped and questioned. I trembled with apprehension of the narrowly saved man being accused of a crime. Happens all the time in these medieval duchies. More innocent people are dawned by law here year after year than by bullets of murderers or needles of doctors. 

The policeman standing near his patrol car stood there watching the Toyota pass, and paid expertly attention to the driver, but made no motion to stop the car. The driver inside the Toyota waved his hand, like a white flag of truce, peacefully at the policemen and drove further on his errand, whatever it may have been. He was simply keeping his distance from trouble. Lucky person could not possibly know that his life had been saved just now.

The saying, some people never learn, flashed into my mind. I genuinly feared for the Toyota to come back and the parttime reporter step out of it with a camera in his hand. There would be no saving him then. After all, some such indiscretion at a scene of excavations on the garden of a Hessian cannibal had brought him this trouble. To my relief, the reporter, who could not know enough to fear, never came back. At that moment I observed a similar sense of relief on the face of the patrol car and though I could not see the faces of those two doctors, I felt certain that they too were relieved at one less complication in their very intricate operation of damage control. I cannot describe the sickness that came over me at the thought of sharing something, even if momentarily and for diametrically opposed motives, with this Gothic alien monsters. It was awful... awful. I was overwhelmed with an uncontrollable mental effort to remember all the differences that would justify this lot to be classified as a species unmistakably different from mine. Diet is always a first clue for taxonomists whose job it is to distinguish species of birds looking or acting similar in some ways. I could think of Pork, Blutwurst, Beer, Pretzel, Caraway which I have never touched for whatever unthought reason. Heaven forbid me from sharing in diet of monsters. 




	Chapter 2- GOTHIC CRIME SYNDICATE

	A German-American at his best

Erfurt in Thuringia or Saxen-Anhalt

On the first monitor Lehder was calling again. He looked serious about the job and concerned somehow. We heard the phone ringing and I knew what to expect next. Monks turned their eyes towards one of the inactive monitors among in a long row. It went alive with the usual planetary view being zoomed on. Text in lower left corner blinked:

‘Receiving coordinates…Erfurt… Meridian… Parallel’

Soon we were inside a café. Four persons were sitting around a table with four large beer glasses on it. One of them aliens, bigger than the other three, had a cell phone to a prominent cantilever rat ear. Obviously he was talking to Lehder. 

‘Hier Reuter!’

The top killer had a prominent long chin, a feature much praised in English novels. But elongation did not stop at the chin and the ears. The chap had over elongated limbs too, like matching a general principle on which his design was based.

‘Do it’ said Ingolstadt.

‘Jawohl!’ replied Erfurt and put the phone away into a pocket.

The other three killers on the table hurried the beer glasses to their mouths.

‘Jawohl!’ repeated the corporal to his team.

All three clowns nodded similarly and synchronously like clones and turned their predatory eyes with appetite towards another table nearer the door.  I could recognize the black war veteran there. The good old black American was talking with a hyena. 

‘You are American, aren’t you? I can tell.’

‘Sure! Where are you from?’

The hyena was a blond humanoid. He too was endowed with elongated extremities strangely akin to boss of the killer team. Not to recognize the unmistakeble kinship of the decoy and the hunter; how much naiver than mankind can the zebras be, I wondered.

‘Going back to States today. What about you?’ said the war veteran.

‘Oh, I may stay here a while. The culture, you know. I am Morgenthau. Reinsurence agent. Pleasure to meet you.’

The black man instinctively shirked back at the elongated limb stretched for a handshake and then took it with great effort as if he had just managed to suppress an instant aversion.

‘Have a cup of coffee!’

‘I’ll have a beer, if you don’t mind’

‘Don’t know why I should. Please yourself.’ 

‘Herr Ober, Ein Bier!’ said the elongation to the waiter.

‘You speak German?’ asked the African.

‘Oh, not really. Just enough to get a drink on a hot day.’

‘I wouldn’t worry about that. They all understand English.’

‘Who?’

‘These…’

The African-American checked himself, let the sentence unfinished and moved his chair a bit away from the table on which the Elongation now had his front limbs firmly placed.

‘You been here before?’ asked the German-American.

‘You bet I been here before…’ said the African-American and then stopped like swallowing a long tale.

Blond elongation waited patiently but nothing followed. He looked at the killers on the other table. I had no more doubts that this was a decoy in the hunt. All four killers were intensely watching their empty beer glasses, not risking a stray look that might betray the decoy and alert the game.

‘Seen the interesting parts around here? Martin Luther studied in Erfurt, you know...’ said the blond rascal.

‘Really? Didn’t know the Reverend had been here. Study what? Human rights?’

The rascal looked confused and made no reply. Obviously he would wait for some hint before he did so. The Black American noticed the confusion and disinterestedly volunteered some more, against his better sense and plainly out of the goodness of his heart.

‘’



‘Came all the way back from the States to study here? Was that just after the war? Cannot think of anything he would come to study here right then. You sure of your facts? You mean Reverend Martin Luther King, right?’

‘Wrong. I mean Martin Luther way back. This one was never in America. He was German, you know.’

‘A German with an AfricanAmerican name, fancy that. Why not? Unless he was covered by visa restrictions for German Nazis after the war. Come to think of it, I remember a Nazi author who had written something anti-semitic. The Jews and their lies... I remember that now because there was some dispute over it when we purged the American occupation zone from Nazi dirt. Lieutenant Henry Kissinger in Oberammergau tried to save that book, supposing it to be a classic of German religion. General Omar Bradley said no exceptions for any book praised by the Nazis and that was it. That Martin Luther, author of such poison, would not be allowed into America of course.'

The blond studied the black man as if for hints of his joking. If so, he found none because the veteran looked very serious.

‘No, I don’t think he was dened entry visa,’ said the blond at length studied our friend more intently.

‘What else did you see around here?’ said the blond after a while.

The African pulled his chair nearer to the table after long deliberation as if suppressing some instinct, some inner voice warning him of a lurking danger.

‘I will tell you the reason I came here.’ He stopped to reconsider. Obviously the inner voice was still there. But the decoy knew how to lure the prey; a flattering tone of voice without really acknowledging any quality in the target person; a posture with deep entranched habits of treacherous servitude; an arsenal of diverse weapons I could sense but had no words to describe it with.

‘You had a reason to come here?’ 

While thus prompting the talk, the blond again took a sidelong glance at the four killers. They looked oblivious to all things except the empty beer glasses they had eyes fixed on. The more the blond beast relaxed into his chair,  the more the African pulled his chair away. But the elongated posterior and anterior limbs of the blond pursued him from below and above the table.

‘I had a very important reason to come here this year.’ Said the old African veteran.

The blond creature was all ears now. Silence... How easily did the decoy slip into posture of a reverential listener. False through and through, I could see, but maybe at close quarters there are chemical or other hypnotic influences that numb and dumb the prey.

‘I wanted to see the concentration camp we had liberated back in April 1945.’

The blond creature was still all ears, no mouths. The African American studied him with extrahuman courage. Then, he shook his head imperceptibly as if tired and confessing inability to solve a riddle and continued.

‘I wanted to see it but I could not.’

‘Why not? Did you ask the city tourist bureau? They have all the information.’

‘I asked the city information office. They knew nothing of a concentration camp. They offered lots of alternative places to visit. All kinds of buildings associated with reverend Martin Luther. A local joke here I suppose.’

‘Why joke?’ asked the blond with a demeanor of offence.

‘You think they are serious?’

‘It is small town psychology. They want to look important. No harm in that.’

‘Small they are indeed. But already more important than they ought to be.’

‘How is that?’

‘I’ll tell you how small they are. This Erfurt belongs a province called Thuringia, right?’

‘Saxen-Anhalt’

‘Whatever. And this Thuringia is about a sixth of East Germany, right?’

The blond creature leaned nearer over the table, exposing a hyena profile. He made no sound.

‘And East Germany is about a sixth of the whole thing that is united Germany now, right?’

The Hyena was very still and very tense; primed to spring.

‘And this united Germany is smaller than South Dakota, right?’

‘Oh you mean the area. There is a lot more people here than in Montana.’

The black man jerked back in his chair as if hit with something disgusting and dangerous at the same time.

‘Why did you say Montana?’ 

‘I don’t know! You said Montana.’

‘No I didn’t. I said South Dakota but I did mean Montana. It was a slip of tongue that I said Dakota.’

‘No problem.’

‘You too were in tourist office earlier to day?’

‘No, why?’

‘Because I gave them a piece of my mind and there I said Montana and that was correct.’

‘Don’t worry about it. I understand perfectly.’

‘I don’t.'

The inner voice was back. The African did perceive a peril, became apprehensive for a while and then shook his soldiers as if internally saying who cares and then resumed the talk like he had changed the subject.

'Anyway, I been reading a book in the plane. The Royals. Written by one Kitty Kelley. You heard about it’

‘I am sorry to say I don’t read much fiction.’

‘Did I say fiction? You sure you don't know the book? This is no fiction. It is about the Royal family.’

‘Of England I suppose.’

‘It says things about Coburg here.’

The blond hyena took another sidelong glance at the four killers. There was no change there except one was missing. He looked towards the toilets and then back to the African-American.

‘There is this Duke of Saxe-Coburg-Gotha. Karl Edward. Ever heard about him?’

‘No. Why should I?’

‘Neither has the tourist office ever heard of him. You might think the duke is less important to them than reverend Martin Luther.’

‘Maybe he is. Aristocracy has no power around here since many generations.’

‘That a fact?’

‘Certainly.’

‘Well, this Coburg was a general of Germany in both World Wars. Have generals never had power around here?’

‘This country is a democracy, you know!’

‘I never knew that. Since when?’

‘Since when, what?’

‘Since when is this country a democracy?’

‘Oh, you mean East Germany, DDR. You are right there. It was not a democracy until unification of Germany in 1989. You know what DDR means? Deutsche democratic republic! Ha ha.’

‘Well, this Karl Edward is Duke of Coburg for a very long time. From 1900 to 1954. And the tourist office has no information on him. And they have no information on any concentration camps that were here until 1945. But they have lots of exhibitions on how Dresden was bombed in February 1945.’

‘Oh it is always horrible when a civilian city is bombed.’

‘Like Nagasaki?’

‘That is different. That saved lives in bringing the war to an end.’ said the blond creature with great enthusiasm.

‘Bombing of Dresden did not save lives?’

‘It killed 150 thousand civilians for nothing. Unavoidable in wars I suppose but regrettable all the same.’

‘Dresden has been capital of the Grand Duchy of Saxony for some time. Duke of Coburg might be living there when the city was bombed by the British Royal Air Force. Royal! Yet I bet none of the huge clan was among the 150 thousand dead.’

‘How do you know?’

‘Ask me why not.’

Again, the blond creature leaned nearer on the table. He was again like a hyena ready to spring. Silent and still but deadly.

‘Ask me why not.’ Said the black American with more animation as if provoking the beast to spring rather now than later.

‘Why not?’ hissed the hyena with barely audible voice.

‘Because that Duke of Coburg was the British Royal family in person. Born and bred in the royal palace of London. Matter of fact, born in 1984. Came over to Germany in 1900. How old was the young Duke then? Sixteen. Attended military school in Germany and became a general in the First World War. Isn’t that an important personage for the local tourist office here to know about? Their hereditary Duke.’

‘All the hereditary Dukes abdicated in November 1918.’

‘Was it November? Fancy that.’ The black man measured up the elongated blond beast with a quizzical look. 

‘It puzzles me when a knowledgeable American like you knows how many innocent civilians died in Dresden under British bombing but he does not know how many human beings died in Nagasaki under American bombing.’ said the old African philosophically.  The smile in his eyes was challenging the hyena to top that if he could.

The Hyena took another sidelong glance at the killers. They were four again like four aces hidden inside the sleeve of a false player who would rather win without having recourse to them. But win he must in any case. The four aces were just sitting there focusing on beer glasses with total concentration. The hyena looked at the empty glasses and then at the waiter. The waiter caught the looks, went to the killers and wanted to know if, or rather, reminded them that he should refresh their glasses. Upon this unexpected intrusion, all four looked at the blond man. Although the blond hyena did not react to their querying eyes, all four killers nodded simultaneously at the waiter for more beer.

	Massacre in Erfurt -A wave of  Confession hysteria

(More dialogue in Erfurt cafe - On Kitty Kelley book...)

Reassured of his reinforcements, the hyena recovered from the rebuff and took the offensive again.

'You were saying...'

'I was saying that Kelley says some awfully interesting things about the Royals. Like Duke of Coburg here, Karl Edward, attends the funeral of Georg V Coburg in London 1936.'

'A civilized behaviour I am sure.'

'He does so in full uniform of a Nazi general.'

'If that is his job...'

'Gruppenleiter of the SS for this duchy.'

'I don't think so. The papers would have written it.'

'That is the other thing. I don't know if it was reported or not. There is intelligent folks like you here who seem to know that such a thing was never in the papers.  You were not even born back in 1936, that right?'

The hyena made no response. It looked as if he had not heard the last remark because he was trying to catch the attention of the waiter for another beer.

'This British Duke of Albany, become Duke of Coburg, seems to be the driving force behind both world war efforts of Germany.'

'If he accepted the title, it is the right thing to do, surely. cannot blame a chap for his loyalty.'

'Though officially the duke abdicated in 1918, he seems to have remained very much the duke.'

'How do you know?'

'One of his sons marries a commoner and is disquilified from succession.'

'They have rules, those aristocrats, I suppose.'

'If one of them can give up the job for marriage, why cannot the other give it up for loftier reasons and just return back to Britain? He is duke of Albany there, remember?'

'Kelley writes that?'

'No, I heard this one from Mr. Orwell. You sure you did not read this   Kelley book? You seem to know whatever is not in it.'

'Just guessing.'

'Right on.'

	Dec 1, 2003

There was a long silence during which the prey seemed to perceive a danger and consider his meagre chances. Then, the black veteran straightened up and came eye to eye with his peril, like he had made up his mind for the best strategy: flight forward. The hunted was going to flash towards the decoy, believing him to be the sole hunter. The noisy hound was mistaken for the hunter.

'You heard about the highschool massacre here in Erfurt?' asked the African with mock innocence.

'What massacre?'

'Massacre in high school named after Martin Luther. 

'He studied there?'

'Change, change...'

'What?'

'The subject!'

'He did not study there?'

'The massacre...'

'During the war? Before the war?'

'The Erfurt Highschool massacre in...'

'During the Soviets?' asked the German American with greater force of argument.

'Let me tell you what happened some months before here in Erfurt. A highschool boy armed to the teeth, rifles, guns, bombs, entered the school to which he had been attending for years. It is a school for the best of this race.'

'How do you know?'

'No foreigners, no kids of foreign workers, no blacks, no Jews.'

'Oh, well, DDR is not America, you know.'

'I know but I fear America is 25% DDR.'

'How do you mean?'

'I mean a quarter of America are Germans, are they not?'

'Who told you that?'

'Official census page of the government of the United States of America. You did not know? I have met many German Americans who know very precisely how many niggers there are but seem to not know how many Germans there are in America.'

'Because there is no point to it. What for?'

'Point counter no point; invisible point. No wonder Africans have been on the losing side all this time.'

'Lack of education, poverty...'

'...and chicken and egg... In this last days of my life I have come to think that black americans are in error on their fundamental principle.'

'They have principles?'

'The fundamental principle that all men are created equal.'

'You find that a wrong premise to start from?' The German American became jubilant for a brief moment, like someone proved right at last.

'I have come to think that this is the wrong premise from which to oppose racism. I think organized bigotry ought not be declared the equal of its target. Organized bigotry should be targeted openly and clearly.'

'This is a dangerous thing to recommend. There is already rising antisemitism among black Americans.'

'I think it should be replaced with anti-Germanism. Only then would the bigot party beg for equality among humans, among nations. You declare them your equals to start with, they raise the stakes against you. You must declare them what they said in their hay days, that other races are, that the rest of the world is.' 

'This is a dangerous idea.'

'Not if it is not killing thirty million Slavs and six million Hebrews. Whom can this idea harm?'

'It can harm the Germans.'

'You mean if this idea becomes a dogma in Russia, the Russians may gas six million Germans?'

'It has happened before, has it not? Speeches of fanatics have caused...'

'It was always the one race of fanatics.'

'You forget the Russian pogroms!'

'You forget they happened when Russia was under the yoke of German Czars and officers.'

'Who told you that?'

'Who should not tell me that? Or rather, who wants to know who told me that? It sure was never in books on Russia writen by German Americans. But it is in the Internet.'

'Oh, you surf the world wide web?'

'You don't?'

'What I mean is...'

'Where I sleep...'

'What? You forget the massacres in Rwanda... No Germans involved there.'

'Happened under Belgian peace keepers control. bewlgium is under German king.'

'You forget the Armenian massacre...'

'Could happen only after German officers took command of the area.'

'You forget the Japanese aggression in China.'

'Japan got itself into trouble only after liberating the German colony in China.'

'before that, Japanese aggression in Korea, Manchuria.'

'Japan got there only to protect the natives against invading armies.'

'Of Czarist Russia....'

'Under command of German Czar and German officers: Generals Rennenkampf and Ungern-Sternberg and many more.'

'You know a lot, don't you...'

'You don't know much, do you?'

'But still, you cannot lead all massacres to Germans: what about Pol Pot?'

'Three generations of German missionary orphanages can breed any beast.'

'But Pol Pot was native, was he not?'

'Maybe; on the grandmother side maybe. Like criminal blacks in the Harlem, born to unwed teenagers in orphanages.'

'But surely there are good and bad people in all races. Even among the Jews... What about the crimes of Henry Kissinger?'

'If he is really a Jew, then he certainly is not a Spanish Jew. Nor French nor Russian Jew.'

'What is that supposed to mean?'

'If his crimes are certain...'

'Of course he was the man behind Indonesia and Vietnam...'

'Then his race is not certain.'

'But if he says he is a Jew...'

'Then he at least ought to abstain from Pork, not to insult intelligence of African-Americans. He is from Bavaria, didn't you know?'

'Never mind that! He is American now.'

'Only since 1938! Africans are in America since centuries but they still are not Americans  for the Germans.'

'How do you mean that?'

'I have been travelling in Germany since the D-Day memorial June 6, 2003 and I talked to many Germans.'

'They said you cannot be American?'

'They wanted to know where I was from and I made them guess and they guessed and guessed all countries of Africa and not one of them guessed America.'

'Oh because they do not see many black Americans here.'

'The soldiers at the American consulate are Black.'

'Only a few then...'

'American force in Germany these last fifty years had hundreds of thousands of blacks.'

'They don't come out often then.'

'Some millions of Germans have been to Florida and California on vacations. They must have seen black Americans there.'

'Maybe not.'

'In the American movies then! Surely I do look like Morgan Freeman!'

'Oh, Germans do not see many American films.'

'Except half a dozen per week on TV, I guess.'

'What does that prove?'

'Prove?'

'I mean, what are you trying to say?'

'Trying to? I was wondering about the Erfurt high school massacre.'

'Happens all the time in America.'

'That is what I was wondering about. Where do they come, the shooting kids? They are neither African nor Scottish-Irish.'

'How do you know? Did the American papers say a serial killer was German?'

'No, they did not. Neither did they say he was Irish or Black, which, had it been the case, they would never let pass. But a very few did say he had been to Nuremberg on student exchange program.'

'But they did not say he was German?'

'No, they said he was a lawyer whose parents had emigrated to the United States from Latvia, wherever that may be. You know where latvia is?'

'Somewhere near Russia I suppose...'

'And then, one paper said that the parents had actually come from Germany to America just after 1945.'

'Maybe Latvians displaced by Russians...'

'Maybe so. Then this chap studies law in America, becomes lawyer, lives in a neighborhood for rich people, appears decent chap, all the while amassing arcenal in the appartment. Then, one fine afternoon he drives to three towns, shoots one of each race he can find; Jew, Arab, Chinese, Vietnamese... 

'And then he is caught, I suppose.'

'And then his lawyer pleads insanity.'

'Can happen.'

'And then the Jury thinks he is no more crasy than his German defence attorney.'

'How do you know the lawyer was German?'

'Because his name was not in ninety nine out of hundred news reports. Do you remember the name of the lawyer turned into Serial killer?'

The German American was not answering. Instead, he gave a look at the four killers on the other table like saying our friend here is beyond salvation.

'Schumacher, was it?' pressed the Black African war veteran, to extract some response from the German American.

'I would not know. I never read such stuff. Much too much violence in the media.'

'You find so?'

'Sure, every one knows that. It is no good!'

'The reporting is no good? There was folk back then who never reported on Auschwitz until it was all over. Maybe they too thought the reporting of too much violence is no good.'

'Well, if there was no proof...'

'There never is no proof where you don't look.'

'I mean the serious press must ignore the rumors until...'

'... until the Fuhrer is dead and buried and we are all on the same side for freedoms and democracy against the Russians who discovered the Auschwitz.'

'What do you mean? Another conspiracy theory?'

'Conspiracy.'

'That is ludicrous.'

'I might even laugh, had the ludicrous not caused torrents of blood.'

'It is such theories that cause loss of life.'

'Sure, Russians discovering Auschwitz and filming all the evidence in presence of their thirty nationalities brought on them a horrible cold war, isolated them from half the globe. You think they should have made adetour around Auschwits, like the British made around camps?'

'This is really ridiculous.'

'If you say so, Mr... Schumacher, was it? No, that was our chap in the American consulate. He was very helpful too. Called all kinds of places to find out for me if there was a concentration camp called Ohrdruf near Erfurt. But poor chap, try as he did, no trace could be found. I thought I new the location of the camp we had liberated on April 6, 1945 and I came here all the way just to see the place, but all in vainOur chap in our consulate, I mean Mr. Schumacher of the United States State Department, wanted to know why I wished to visit the place. He also wanted to know maiden name of my blessed mother. Been too long in this part of the world I suppose. I thought maybe he got something embarrassing about maiden name of his own mother, who can tell in these times of unwed teenage pregnancies... In the end this helpful chap declared in frustration that maybe I ought to visit museums because there was no such camp. Probably there never was... maybe I imagined it all! '

'Human memory is not very reliable.'

'Human library even less so. I am the last of the army unit left from the liberators. Sure my memory can fail. But where, after I am no more, is the library mankind may rely on with some confidence?'

'There are experts for that sort of thing.'

'I know. Dr. Schumacher and GmbH. Expertise for locating things is also well enough for dislocating things; train for one, openly and legitimately, and employ for the other. Who is there to suspect? We are not paranoid after all.'

'You are a cynic, aren't you.'

'I assume that means African-American. But that reminds me things happened back in the autumn of 1944 when we were advancing in France towards the Reich. On September 11 it was when we crossed the international prewar border between occupied France and Germany. general Omar Bradly received indtructions from London that all his two armies should concentrate in a valley eight miles long and two miles wide because the Royal Air Force, together with our American Air Force under General Kraatz, is that a German name I wonbder, were to bomb the heaviest formations of the Nazis ahead of that valley and open a passage into the Reich. Geneal Bradly said fine and then not only did not concentrate the two armies into that trench from fifty miles wide front, but even removed the few batallions already there. Would you say General Omar Bradley was a cynic?'

'No idea.'

'Here is what happened that night. All of the allied Air Forces dropped all of their bombs on that eight mile long deep valley where two armies of the United States were supposed to be concentrated. The heavy formations of the Nazis witnessed it withouth a scratch. Our scouts to the valley and back in the morning reported that not a tree nor bush was left in place in those eight miles. Would you say general Omar Bradley was a cynic? Had he done as told, the Allied expeditionary force would have been reduced to only the Britons of Montgomery playing soft war games around Antwerp with the fifteenth nazi Army under general Busch; no American would have survived and we would not have crossed into the Reich on Spetember 11, 1944. Was general Omar Bradly a cynic or not?'

'A General must obey orders.'

'Exceptions to Prussian rules made America great in the past and may do so again in the future. What puzzled me in this highschool massacre in Erfurt is not the crime itself. After all, these people could live with a concentration camp for years and all of them claimed they knew nothing of it. Oh, yes, they were brought to the camp in April of 1945, every one of them, to see and say something. And today, they agains sya they never heard of a concentration camp around here. What was camp Ohrdruf then is an army training area now, and an army which is part of the unblemished Nato too, in defense of the best on this world.' 

'Are you going to sit here long?'

'What puzzled me in the highschool massacre is not the method either: this boy did not just hail bullets on a crowd, oh no. He went through all class and office rooms, washrooms and cafeterias, and shot each of the fourteen teachers in the head; methodically, systematically, in cold blood. But that does not puzzle me either. This part of the world is renown for that much.'

'You going to sit here long?'

'What puzzles me is the upside down crime pyramide here. I asked a tobacconist if any of those vending machines on all corners been destroyed by hooligans; never happened. Not one unguarded cigarette vending machine damaged by drunks. There are thousands of them in the town and several million in all Germany. Yet, none damaged by social misfits, by homeless persons, by whatever it is grows in these ares. And then, suddenly, without prior hints in the crime statistics, this boy goes into his school and shots all his teachers.'

'You going to make a move?'

'Another puzzle of the same kind in crime statistics: near million autos are stolen in a year or two, I forgot, but none of those people who must go homein subway after reporting theft of auto, not one of them smoked on the open platform where subway is on the surface.'

'It is no smoking bitte area.'

'Sure, and it is no car stealing, please, area too.'

'Never mind. Are you going to sit here long?' asked the decoy and the four killers tensed in their sits. The hunt was about to enter its phase of hot pursuit before the kill.

'No, I was thinking of moving right now, if you wont mind. Hallo, waiter, my bill please...'

The German American decoy gave an unmistakable go ahead look and the four killers jerked to attention in their chairs. The top dog took out a cell phone and played with it casually.  At this moment, a typical drunk German staggered into the place and staggering over chairs and tables, reached the table of our Black American Friend. The drunk had difficulty standing up. He dropped on both the empty chair and on half of the table from which the Black American rose and called the waiter again. The drunk gave out strange guttural ugly German noises while reaching the coat of the Black Old Man for attention. Obviously he was being a pest and a nuisance which abound in that part of the world and provide the conspired excuse for the perennial police presence. Just when you need one, I thought and indeed there entered two of the race. The black man seemed releaved at timely sight of the law. He was going to address them but strangely enough, the two policemen advanced as if the one African among all those blonds was invisible. They approached the drunk who had completely covered the table, all the while keeping the black man out of their vision field. It was an intricate manouver among the tables. Then they tapped at a shoulder of the drunk who appeared to be sleeping on the table.


'Ausweis bitte!'

The drunk gave out some more strange noises like he was not going to make it easy for the officers doing their job. But then, suddenly both man turned towards the black man and asked for his identification.

	Dec 2, 2003

'Hey, I am not with that drunk man.'

There was neither hesitation on the part of the police nor confusion. They had lost all interest in the drunk man if they ever had any. They knew what they were doing because while presumably approaching the sleeping drunk German, they had flanked the African from both sides and assumed a menacing look.

'Ausweis bitte!'

What is more, the drunk recovered instantly and stood up in line with the two policemen, and covering the African from behind. He had the same hair cut as the two policemen. He was of the same height and age too.

'Hey, what is this? A shake up?' asked the old African-American in a calm tone, imperceptibly smiling like ready to confront medieval plagues.  

'Ausweis bitte! May I see your passport, please?'

'You may not. Here is my driver licence.'

The policemen walked outside with the driving licence, obviously to make the standard call to their centrale or wherever it is they call for a verification in some database. The drunk German stood his place like duty. The German-American was talking to the four killers at their table. 

'They may search you. Just routine...' said the German American to the black. 

At this, I realised what was happening. Indeed it is just routine before making a hit. The killers of invisible government, cowardly creatures in the rule, more so in these parts of the world than elsewhere, need reassurance that the target person is unarmed. Naturally, the police of visible government must do this dirty work. To legally search a person marked for a hit, in this overlegalistic zone of the world all that is needed is a drunk to appear on the scene and make nuisance of himself. That justifies the police to step in and do their job. In the end, not the drunk but the target is searched. Naturally such a sophisticated machinary would not be scraped if an independent minded reporter, a creature that does not survive in these parts except in plastic imitation. If exposed as such, the police would next time search the drunk too before the target. 

Soon the two policemen would return to the cafe, appear very polite, apologize even, but insist on searching the black man. According to top secret statistics of these duchies, every black African who has been knifed in these parts since unification of Berlin, every such target, has been searched by the police within the last three hours before he was attacked by Neo-Nazi gang. Naturally,  the wave of violence escalating since the unification of Berlin is not confined to Africans. Even Vietnamese are not spared the attacks. So far, the supposedly wild and uncontrollable forces of Hitler have had hands off only from citizens of the four allied countries of the World War. All other nationalities are legitimate targets of attacks coordinated between the visible and the invisible governments. The one disarms and the other stabs. The one stabs and the other laments. 

In the space orb all was quiet. The three young monks were as calm as the three old monks. I looked at them and they looked at me. I pointed at the monitor where the old black man stood like waiting for his driving licence to be returned. He was flanked by the drunk German and the German American. The four killers were standing now, ready for action, which would probably happen outside once the black man left the cafe. I pointed at the monitor but words failed me. I wanted to say that I think it is time we do something; clearly our man could need some help. Now was the time. Fortunately, the monks understood exactly what I would like to say if I could. What is more, they were of the same mind too, and they were going to act. I knew this from the way the oldest monk raised his hand, palm down, intensely watching the monitor, while the electronic monk, the youngest one, stood alert with a finger on the remote and eyes fixed on that palm.

'Now!' said the oldest monk, pushing the air down whith the palm. The youngest monk shaked the remote in his hand. 

On the monitor, GermanAmerican was the first to wave away a buzzing insect. Then the four killers did so. The drunk was standing further away now and he did not react except by turning his attention to the four killers who suddenly started to squibble among themselves. I could not hear what they fought over but the drunk was all easrs, so, it must be sensitive stuff.

The most visible change was in the German American who faced the Old Black War Veteran. The German was alltogether a different character now, talking rapidly in contrast to his previous calculating, slow  and deliberate ways. His speech was now accompanied by a menacing finger which was nowhere before.

'You niggers!' spat the ferocious animal mouth. He was exporting saliva and phlegm in enriched quantities.

'You thirty million Niggers are next on line after those three million Arabs in the United States. A million of your race are already in prison under Wackenhut management. Call it reservations or concentration camps. Same thing. We are getting somewhere. And then it is the turn of the Irish and Scots. Deutsch-America ueber alles!'

'I want no part of this shit, my man!' said the black American and then turned to the ex-drunk on duty; tell your comrades to keep my driving licence till their Reich come. I am getting out of here.'

Africa walked out of the medieval quagmire through gibraltar in the shape of a side door leading to the parking lot. At this moment the two policemen returned through the main door, one of them holding the driving licence and the other still on the cell phone. They walked directly tot he table where the black man had been but was no more. The German American and the Ex-drunk both pointed at the side door but the two policemen were alerted to the quarreling team of four. The ex-drunk too turned to them and joined by the waiter, the quarted closed in on the quarrel table. True, the four beasts were rough handling eachother over the table that separated them but no chairs were kicked yet, So, it must be the phrases they were throwing at each other which were significant for the undivided attention they now enjoyed. 

At this moment I guessed that the four killers were not armed. The guns and mufflers must be in their car. Lacking the weapons, obviously they escaladed the violence against each other in revelations which all those around them recognized for taboo things; absolutely confidential. Then, of all the people, it was the waiter who pulled out a gun before anyone else. He must have a high command post because as soon as he pulled out a gun, the two policemen on both sides of the waiter and advancing half a step behind him likewise pulled their guns. Then all three, waiter boss and patrol policemen started shooting at the team of four until all four went down onto the table and then to the ground under it. 

The German American was still addressing the black American who was not there any more.

'You Niggers are so stupid as to believe that a bunch of Arabs are capable of  an operation like that on September 11. Operation Rheingold, Sieg heil! You stupid Niggers would not register the absence of Air Force during four hours from the planes coming off route to collapse of the two towers. No Arab, no Russian can ground the USAF during four such hours. Only General Siegfried, appointed chief of Norad one year before September 11, has the authority to keep the USAF on ground at such times, to overrule all automatic alarms and procedures. Arabs, hah, dass ich nicht lache.... But believe it for a while, until Der Tag! It was a shame to hurt the World Trade Center. It would be unnecessary had project Manhattan gone on planned course: develop the bomb at expense of American taxpayer and then drop by accident on Manhattan. But Heinrich Truman dared not lest America survive the hit and react by deporting all German Americans to where they came from, back to the Rhine. But now, so many years after 1945, no American is capable of suspecting Germans when a Jewish Synagogue is bombed in Morocco or Argentine. Others are suspect now... We have done it again... Wer will do it again and again and again and...'

The German American shook like he was hit with successive blows and then collapsed. The waiter had done the shooting and as before, the two policemen had joined in after the waiter. Clearly, this waiter in a cafe in the city center had a high rank in the invisible government and the regular police somehow knew his rank or at least that he was authorized to command their allegience.

At that moment, another monitor went alive in the space orb. It showed the black man driving in the direction of the nearest airport to get out of that messed up country. He was talking to himself:

' You should keep it all to yourself. I want no part of this shit, my man! Keep it till your Reich come.'

The black man repeated the words with variations and soon traversed moods of anger, fear, disgust, regret. At the sight of a sign saying thirty kilometers to the the Airport, he settled on merry singing the very same words while driving ahead.

'I want no part of this shit!
No shit, no, no part of this shit, 
I want no part of it, 
keep it, keep, keep it all here
keep it all to yourself
Till your Reich come...
If it ever come again
which will not be before
I am born again...
I am born again...
I am born again...
Amen.'


	Massacre in Erfurt reported

I was very glad that the African could get away. The bloody carnage that ensued just after he left should create full employment for the devilish apparatus until he would get into the plane heading towards his home in the United States. Even the driving licence he left behind should not matter much. The cabal that dares to rule the world had more pressing emergencies now and I had no more doubts that we were watching that very apparatus from which all violence has emanated in all ages and geographies. Though they have been skillful enough to give the appearance of good and bad present everywhere, they could not make evil appear denser anywhere in the world.

The Erfurt view on the monitor had moved out of the cafe into a parking lot where two grave and serious doctors in white uniforms discoursed in the vicinity of a black helicopter. The young monk who must have redirected the camera called my attention to the dialogue merely by his eyes.

'Herr Doctor Kraft-Ebbing, bitte hierher...' said one, showing his companion the way towards the helicopter.

‘I must inform the Graff!’ said Herr Doctor Kraft-Ebbing, walked to the helicopter, climbed in and sat down. 

He picked a pair of headphones and put them on his head. The pads were so huge that they completely covered the cantilever ears. Then he just waited. Obviously a signal had already been triggered because another blank monitor in our space orb came to life as soon as the phones were lifted off the instrument panel. Our monitor went through the usual approach to the planet and zoom on the area where that signal was picked or maybe just activated something like ringing a bell or lighting little red light.  I could see no cable either.  Wired or wireless made no difference. I believed to have spotted the weak point of our tracking system. If the enemy knew how it worked, they could easily arrange each call to ring bells all over the planet, all but one being dummies. But then any technical system can be fooled once its working principle is understood. Then you have to invent something more. I suppose the monks here or whoever supplied their hardware would be up to the task if and when the enemy caught up with what we already had. 



The monitor zoomed on a medieval castle. The word Gothic came to my mind effortlessly. I knew the word before but I never knew what exactly were the components that defined it. Something of architecture, I would answer but none ever asked me what Gothic was. I met the word often enough to justify a look up in some good dictionary but then you know how it is: either the article you are reading is not very important; or the message is clear enough without elucidation of every silly word the composer has thrown in; or else. I better not leave you in the dark about or else. It is like this: I eat my food without salt when two conditions coincide in a Chinese restaurant; the salt is on a free table far from me; and the waiter is a very polite gentleman. The former happens some of the time and the latter every time. Let me make a resolution now: I will look up the word Gothic in a practical lexicon at the first opportunity.

A sophisticated high-tech communications room appeared on the monitor. Our camera was inside and the bottom left text blinked:

‘Receiving coordinates…Gotha…Meridian 20East… Parallel 50 North…’

And then another text flashed on the monitor: 

‘Pearl Harbor, Hawaii … Meridian 160 West… Parallel 20 North…’
‘180 degrees apart… attention… attention…’

Obviously there was some malfunction in the system of the space orb. I wondered what the operating software was and where the source code had been written. I looked at the technical monk and saw him nod philosophically like it was all right. He was also confirming whatever it was I was in the process of thinking or guessing. No point in asking him for details of the software because he would probably say that he was only a user of this operating system, not designer of it. He might however refer me to the producer or distributor of the software for further enquiries. I have never done that in my life no matter how often a message box poppes up and declares this program has performed an illegal operation and will close down now and that if the problem persists I should contact the provider or supplier or whoever. Thank you very much, Mr. Cheap Message Box,  but I got better things to do.


	Chapter 3- LION OF JUDA AGAINST HOUSE SAXE-COBURG-GOTHA


	Castle Coburg


All of us in the space orb converged towards the newest of live monitors.

There was an overgrown youth in what looked like a communications room. He had earphones on and he talked in a muffled, hardly audible way.

‘Residence Saxe-Coburg-Gotha’

‘Professor Doctor Kraft-Ebbing.’

’Waiter...’

‚Bitte um Audience!’

‚Bitte Warten...’

There was music for the waiting. Suddenly title of an Agatha Christie book flashed into my mind: Passanger to Frankfurt... Siegfried... Wagner. Thinking of the name Wagner, I deliberated on the meaning of it: Wagener. A man who repairs ox carts. A Cartright... Then I recalled native Indian names made long and ludicrous by translators: she who stands with a fist, he who dances with a wolf... Probably honest translations should run like Fisty or Wolfy. Well, then! Great German composer 'He Who Repairs Mule Carts'... Besides there is no reason why original sounds of proper names of native Indians should be avoided in dialogue translations. After all, the name too of Nebucadnezzar might mean something and be translated into ridiculous lengths, which is never done.

The communicator did not hurry to anywhere with the message. In fact, he remained in the same posture he was, elongated limbs and all, just waiting. The heavy door slid open with a piercing noise which I found out of character with the secretive atmosphere of this medieval castle. A very elongated person moved in like a ghost. He was bending to protect his overlong head from hitting somewhere, which was strange because the doorway was way higher. He could not touch the lintel if he jumped. He did raise a palm as if he was to touch the horizontal beam that was the header.

If the communicator was a blond, the go-between, for obviously that is what this party clown ought to be judging by the timing of his apparition, was an albino. No color at all except black patches around the eyes like left over from a brawl or an orgy or both.

’11 09 19 44’ said the communicator without consulting any paper. 

The blond and the albino remained motionless for a long minute with eyes locked on each other. No muscle moved on either face. Like there was an occult compact between them, which their boss ought to better know nothing of. Then, the albino turned around his left hand that was still holding the door and went away. This time there was no buzzing insect. In any case, he reacted to none. My disappointment was of short duration though. Our camera was right behind him. 

I was very much interested to see whoever that message was being taken too and hear from him whatever the cryptic cipher meant. Of course we heard the whole communication, which prompted this code. Logically, it ought to mean no more than an identification number for the caller and a code for wanting an audience. But deranged minds capable of coding such a simple thing into bizarre combinations should also be granted with capacity for occult rituals beyond our imagination, a tendency towards the  bizarre in the superlative. 

Maybe there has been arrangements for some operation to start rolling as soon as a certain person calls in. Maybe they have a set of operations, each to be triggered by who called and when. The caller would not need to say anything meaningful if such schemes had been worked out and rehearsed in advance. 

Maybe these medieval characters feared detection and analysis of their communications. That might justify the elaborate rigmarole. Though I could not imagine what sovereign power on this planet could threaten these creatures. Any potential agency would be recruiting according to nationality and I bet these characters have the necessary numbers of embedded people with top qualifications scattered among all nations. 

That reminds me of a book title: Enemies of the Open Society. By a certain Karl Popper. I had a mind to read it sometime though I never actually saw the book in a bookshop. But now that I think of it, with a name like Karl, I bet he gives no hint of a network of petty and outdated dukes in medieval gothic castles plotting for planetary chaos to terrify and hurt, to maximize pain waves in the atmosphere, to dupe the shrewdest and to bleed the poorest. For I expect nothing less from such a gang still in possession of such horrible castles, never losing ownership in spite of all the world wars that have been sparked form this area on the globe. It certainly is a unique area regarding the last two world wars and I bet there were world wars before. If we do not know them as such to day, maybe these creatures will make the future generations to unknow the two wars we know all too well.

The elongated alien was still measuring the length of winding corridors and staircases in the castle with his long and sticklike legs. The way he walked suggested that he was indeed counting his steps. His pace was very regular, his turns standardized, his descent into the basement well practiced. He always kept to the right wall of the narrow passages even when taking a turn.

The albino descended several winding staircases and eventually ended up in a machine room. A big thing in the center looked like a steam boiler. That other cast iron structure might very well be a crematorium of reduced scale. Like commercialized models of Auschwitz as a hobby for German aristocracy. Now that I think of it, none of these dukes faced charges at Nuremberg 1945. Yet they had all been dukes and things during the rise of Nazi party and their vassals never vote for someone without a nod from their dukes. I knew that after the so called reformation, only persons of the same sect as the duke could live and work in a duchy. Whenever a duke changed sect, form Lutheran to Jesuit or the other way around, those of his subjects not fast enough to change their church decoration accordingly had to pack off and move to the next duchy. 

By now, knowing a bit of their mind set, it is not difficult for me to guess that both Jesuits and Lutherans were the same people, having bloody fun at the expense of the wide world around them right and left; just to confuse the Latin in the West of the Rhine and the Slav in the East of the Rhine. Like a wedge driving in from the Rhine delta between these two ancient neighbors, pushing them apart and playing them against each other. 

Every parasite has its modes of achieving a Lebensraum. I wonder why this riverine larva could expand more at the expenses of Slavs. I wonder what made France capable of resistance better than Slavs. I would not be surprised if investigation proved the cause of repeated Slav failure, loss of territory and life in great numbers to be some excess of pity in the Slavs exceeding even the charity of affectionate Latins. 

Come to wonder of this difference, two other books at once come to my mind: Les Miserables of victor Hugo and Idiot of Dostojewski. I am thinking of the way a poor released convict on his way across half of France is treated with suspicion and apprehension by people of every village he must pass through. I must confess that when I first read Hugo many years ago, I naturally empathized with the convict and detested a France of 1830s that so much lacked charity. At the time I knew nothing evil of Germans of course. I could not count on my fingers how many times Germans occupied France nor how many times they provoked France into treacherous wars. I had no awareness of North America passing from French and Spanish Latins to German monarchies by trickery in palaces. In my memory,  the word German was not associated with the British royal house. 

It was an unlooked for accident that associated the British royal family with Germany. I was participating in an Internet quiz for trivia. There were about eighty other persons logged on at the time. A few novices aside, all of us were professionals in knowing things trivial. We threw odd names and dates and place names in response to automated quiz master spitting out its brief questions at pace of thirty seconds for each. It was amazing how much the eighty of us could remember. First lines of novels, leading actors of movies, authors of books, presidents, capital cities odd insular republics, you name it. And then came the question that appeared even beneath a trivia quiz: what nation is the Duke of Edinburgh, Philip of the British Royal Family, from? 

Stupid question, we thought. British Royal Family is British just like the Exiled Greek Royal Family would be Greek... what else! Naturally several participants wrote British almost simultaneously which the automated quiz master declared for wrong. We all got the idea at the same time that components of United Kingdom were relevant here. So, several people typed at the same time: English, Welsh, Scottish, Irish... Wrong, wrong, wrong. It was all wrong. And then I remembered having read somewhere some association of Prince Philip with the island of Crete. Place of his birth or something like that. Obviously such a detail was asked for. Another member of the British royal family was born in Malta I think, for whatever reason. So, I typed Greek for the Duke of Edinburgh. Wrong, responded the quiz master and at that moment the time expiring, the answer appeared: German! Duke of Edinbugh a German? Never, several of us typed simultaneously. Naturally we were all confident trivia knowers on our own right and such a thing could not be without we knowing it. Such a thing would be trivia par excellence and we were the experts of this field. All eighty of us quiz participants felt the same way and we chatted about this for a long while, ignoring the questions that appeared afterwards. In the end consensus was reached by the eighty trivia experts, half of them in the United States and the other half from all over the world: the Bot, the automated quiz master has made a mistake. Philip, Duke of Edinburgh cannot have been a German without the knowledge of any one of us, eighty trivia experts, ever knowing it. It just could not be. More probable was a mess up in the data base of the automated cyber quiz.

I said, at the time when I first read Les Miserables, I knew nothing evil of Germans of course and therefore had no sympaty for a France that suspected a poor wayfarer. It was a time when the United States was locked on a course to make itself the most hated nation of the world. That was the time of Vietnam protests. Before that, it had been the turn of France to make itself the most hated nation of the world. By a strange coincidence, this unbelievable performance that converted a France deserving sympathy of all nations for its resistance to Nazis, into the most hated colonialist power, involved Indochina which included Vietnam and then involved Algeria. Before France, it had been turn of China in Korea conflict to make itself most hated on at least half the globe. before that, by blockading Berlin, Russians had candidated for the prize of the most hated nation for half the world. before that came prehistory of global conflicts, already become hazy in 1968 when world students knew no enemy but America. After Vietnam came Palestine conflict and the Hebrew Nation ventured to out do all others for the prize. Now when I think of these Miss Universally Hated Laurettes in sequence, I realize that here is the complete list of races and nations declared for enemies by the Fuhrer of the German Nation. 

Since 1945, starting with Russians in Berlin, Chinese in Korea, France in Vietnam and Algeria, America in Vietnam, Hebrews in Palestine, Russians in Afghanistan... decent people of the world were in no decade without a hate figure; and all the hated figures happen to be declared enemies for the Fuhrer. Naturally, limited media resources and human memories, let drop the nazi atrocities to make room for crimes of these. Only now do I realize that there is something very strange in the sequencing: these nations, on Fuhrer's enemy list, have patiently waited for their turn before making themselves hated so that there would be no dull decade for the world lest it reflect and remember the Nazi atrocities. They have implicitly cooperated to cover between themselves  the five decades from 1945 to 1995 with atrocities that would make Nazis forgotten. 

In 1972 when Hebrew athletes were executed by the bullets of the German Special police in a place so near Dachau in Bavaria, the word Nazi did not appear in the press coverages. It was Palestine, Arabs, Jews... Yet victims were Jews and they were shot by the German special police who meant to save them from Arab kidnappers. No one suspected German duplicity. No ne questioned the wisdom of allowing Germans to host the Olympic games so soon after Hitler. A black American who may have been convicted of stealing a hamburger back in 1945 would not be allowed to vote even now. He would not have been rehabilitated with the speed of charity applied to Germans. Indeed it was the joining of Germans into Nato inspite of all Slav protests that prompted the Slavs to form the Warsaw pact in response. Naturally the free world condemned the Slavs for aggressive intentions of behind the pact. Probably the Slavs condemned the free world for a too speedy Nazification but we of the free world could get no news from the poor Slavs confined behind the Iron Curtain.


In Dostoiewski, an Idiot of unknown origin, even unknown ethnicity, supposedly come to Moscow from Switzerland, enjoys Slav charity on every corner. People put money in his pocket with utmost delicacy not to give offence. I bet it is in this difference between Slavs and Latins that lies the reason why Slavs had to suffer more under Germanic aggression. I bet the French caution with charity towards peddlers of  unknown allegiance has evolved with time in reaction to the German neighbor. I bet the degree of caution reduces by the distance from the Rhine. I also bet that those moving from Rhine in the direction of Spain for no obvious purpose except some Templar, Jesuit, Huguenot story, are observed with more precaution by the French villager. I bet the simplest farmer shows even more charity to a poor traveler moving in any other direction across France except from the Rhine. 

I would not know how but I am sure that honest and safe statisticians can measure such tendencies; geographical vectors of behaviour. 

Oh yes, safety is essential before you are even to talk of measuring or monitoring things gothic, or Germanic. It is a folly to attempt topography of unwed mothers or gay lobbies on the globe unless grave importance of such studies is announced in advance for friend and foe to hear and also the potential killers loudly guessed at,  in case something happens to the scientists venturing on such a perilous adventure.

I suddenly started and realized that my mind was wandering in all directions without focus. I turned my attention to the monitor and realized that I had been away only split seconds like in a bad dream. Before my mind wandered away from the monitor, the albino had just entered the machine room of the castle and that is where I found him when my mind returned from the walkabout.

The albino surveyed the machine room from corner to corner. I tried with great difficulty to focus on the view, but it was no use. I have been watching for too long. It was too much for one day. I could not concentrate. The words that came to my mind upon the sight of the machine room under a Gothic castle were:

‘House von Klopeks’. 

Now, where did that come from? If average human memory were better than what it is, I bet the Germanic dukes would not be able to usurp so many kingdoms. We forget too fast and the enemy banks on that. How many will say wait a minute, when two generations from now they are given movies depicting the German Schindler saving eight hundred Hebrews from horrible Afghans? May be a few reviewers will find fault with historical accuracy of the work of art and correct it: it was not actually the Afghans who built the gas Chambers in Sudan. That was Osama of Sheyshelles! A horrible dictator who gassed half of his own people and was ultimately brought down by general Norman Schawzkopf on the D-Day.

This would sound ridiculous had it not happened so often before. Probably it will still sound ridiculous to many if they know not that it has happened before.

The Albino traversed the Klopeks basement, pushed a shelf wall end moved into a gigantic cave.

The word Gothic came to my mind again. Except there was not much of architecture inside the cave.  Amidst the big darkness that hid all the walls, if there were walls in this horrible vault, a small isle was illuminated. Neither was any ceiling visible.

A humanoid form, very lean and very tall, moved in the illuminated isle among boxes of various heights. The creature moved with agility of rats in Paris sewer, which Victor Hugo so well described in the 1863 novel, Les Miserables. I instantly had the impression that this creature was no less in cunning than those subterranean experts of survival; a lebensraum adept through and through. He would be capable of terrifying an unsuspecting victim in darkness.  The effect was produced even before details of his face could be discerned. The whole set up of delimited light within greater darkness and an alien form moving in it with purposefulness of masked surgeons around an operation table was somehow familiar. 

The familiarity of this horribilis must be from movies since I have never been to such a place in real life. Oh, yes, the alien kidnapping stories of so many Americans. They have been taken to such places and been obscenely operated on. Whatever makes the poor fellows assume it was inside a flying object? I bet they were drugged and taken to medieval castles in black helicopters of Wehrmacht. I should not venture to assume a motive for transatlantic kidnapping of naïve Americans by Dukes of the Reich. My motives, even my wildest fantasy motives cannot possibly be theirs. The creatures who designed and operated Auschwitz must be of a realm beyond the native phantasy of this planet. It cannot be was the nearest our best brains could come until four horsemen of the First Ukrainian Front or Army stumbled on the fences of Auschwitz. Primo Levi was there among inmates. That was January 1945. In the next month, Captain Solshenitsyn of reconnesance battery was arrested for no other reason than having written to and received letters from a friend in the same First Ukrainian Army that had just weeks before discovered Auschwitz death camp.

I came to the present and with great effort focused on the monitor again.

The Albino approached the lighted isle very silently. Duke of this Lair was bent over one of the sarcophagi on the periphery of the light. He turned around and faced the Albino. There was a large bound volume in his hand, which might be an ancient book or a register of landed property. It might also be birth register of this duchy.


	Siegfried of Agatha Christie, Passanger to Frankfurt, 1970


1f)+ANDREAS Michael Arnim Siegfried Friedrich Hans Hubertus (b.Casel 21 Mar 1943); 
m.Hamburg (civ) 18 Jun 1971 (rel) 31 Jul 1971 Carin Dabelstein (b.Hamburg 16 Jul 1946) 
1g) Stephanie Sibylla (b.Hamburg 31 Jan 1972)
2g) +++Hubertus Michael (b.Hamburg 16 Sep 1975)
3g) Alexander Philipp (b.Coburg 4 May 1977)

Master of the Lair dropped the volume on a study, which was painted pitch dark and yet reflected light at certain areas, which shifted as the observer and with him, what I guessed to be a the tiny SEIKO camera in form of a flying bug, approached. 

‘Gunther, my boy, have you come to see your Duke?’ said the Duke. 

The Albino came to a sudden halt on the border between darkness and light. The mobile camera that fed our monitor must be just behind the Albino and a little above his head. We could now see the face of the Duke. This face was long and lean and it was adorned with two sail-like ears, which in this setting strongly reminded of bats. This must be the face with which a father bat admonishes its baby that cries for no good reason. The Albino had taken offence and the duke found this childish. 

Yet the overlong child kept his position. The older one gave way and walked towards his boy.

‘All right, Gunther Frederick! My boy, I am glad you showed up.’

That did not repair whatever was broken between them.

‘Come on, Christian Gunther Frederick Karl!’

Not enough, the immobility of the boy was saying.

‘Prinz von Schwarzberg-Sonderhausen. I am pleased to see you.’

That did it. The ice had melted. The Albino progressed from the twilight zone into the illuminated isle and gave his hand.

‘Well, well! Princely house since 1697, is that right? But my boy, the meanest vassal in this Thuringia of ours has reasons enough to be proud. Let alone a prince of Schwarzberg-Sonderhousen, though the least of our nine duchies. Fifty years we prepared unmolested. Fifty years we enjoyed protection of the iron curtain as an invisible part of the Deutsche Democratic Republic. Now, my boy, the Iron Curtain is no more. We are out once more in full view of all the paranoids of this accursed planet forging conspiracy theories. It is us or them and Louis XX. ...

You are part of a great thing, my boy, even though yours is the lesser of the two Schwarzberg duchies and they both are the least of our nine duchies here in Thuringia. Five are Saxe and two are Reuss. But my boy, it is still a huge planet to reconquer and we got lots of work ahead of us. The least of our vassals is dear to us in this fight of civilization against natives of five continents. It puzzles me greatly that the Kultur carrier species is immer-noch a tiny minority of five percent while savages multiply like rabits. ...

To every one of us there are still twenty of them. It was a good and great deed to annihilate thirty million Slavs in the last open war but our progress is brought to naught by their reproduction. Slavs to our east and Latins to our west encircle us as never before. Our colonies in the Americas and Australias are looking to us for martial support lest they be engulfed by faster multiplying native species of Cartagean-Briton Kelts, Nordic Vikings, Asiatic Slavs and Phoenician Latins. We have to move fast. We are indeed a quarter of the United States, not counting our reserves the Pennsylvania Dutch who are naother three percent,  and therein lies hidden our joker card in this poker of the planets. ...

But that joker will be impotent if exposed for who or what it is. The strength is in the disguise. Do you understand, Prince von Schwarzberg-Sonderhausen?’

Our camera had moved to a position from where we could see both faces now. The Albino was smiling like a cute baby hyena to which a part of a carcass is brought after days of hungry waiting. He had even bent a little so that the profile matched that of baby hyena’s in presence of affectionate clan. The duke continued.

‘Yes, that was a good year, 1697. Princely titles were given away in plenty. We got Poland the year before, you know. After generations of hard work here in Saxony, and more generations of subversive operations across the border in Poland, we got the biggest prize so far at the time. We had at last the undivided Kingdom of Poland. Duke of Saxony, to whom we of Coburg are loyal vassals, became king of Poland, hosted royal balls and sired 360 aristocrats in Warsaw for the benefit of Slavs. Not that they ever appreciated our pains, ungrateful beasts. 

Yes, Poland in 1696 was the biggest so far that Germany snatched since Spain 1516. Bigger and richer than England we Germans got in 1688. than  More was to follow but our good fortune into the Slav crowns waiting for us to take started with Poland.’

The Albino held his peace like he had heard this before but did not mind refreshing his memory. 

‘Of course our cousin Nassau had got Britain eight years before we got Polland, but you know that, don’t you?’

The Albino was not interrupting.

‘I tell you what, my boy. I will call you Prince von Schwarzburg-Sonderhausen if you do not retaliate by calling me Duke of Saxe-Coburg-Gotha. Deal?’

The boy was overjoyed like finding a toy he feared lost or like beating a grown up in his own game.

‘I will tell you what was worrying me just when you came in.’

The Duke waited a little as if to give opportunity for the Albino to say if he had an urgent message. But the Albino gave no hint of any pending errand. He stood there like he was perfectly idle and had dropped in for a royal chat with his royal kin. The Duke took this as a compliment, like someone had wished to see him for no urgent errand at all but just out of respect or affection. He turned to the study and picked a stapled printout of several pages.


	Code Horowitz


‘Do we know this Dr. Leonard Horowitz?’

‘He is on our list, uncle.’

‘That is my boy. What category?’

‘Malignant tumor that cannot be operated out feasibly’

‘For the time being?’

‘Of course for the time being. We update our feasibilities regularly. And we get them all sooner or later. Terminal surgery works best in the end besides being the cheapest treatment.’

‘Update this one sooner. We got one thirty-three years too late and you know how much that delay cost us. Now, here is what he wrote. It is about a Bible Code. Yet another Bible code. Will that never end!’

‘They have been at it since Babylon. Why do you worry, uncle? Same old story.’

‘Not this one though. This is a recent interpretation. Quite original and that is the annoying thing about it. Innovations in religion are terrible. It takes generations to evolve fool proof arguments against them, you know. Just to dilute the effect. Here is what he says. You read….’

The albino took the printout like he knew all about it already and read:

‘THE APOCALYPSE PREVENTION PROJECT
Live on Radio 7PM Central Dr. Len Horowitz's
“The Insight Hour”
For Immediate Release
Contact: Christopher Rudy-208/265-2575; 800/336-9266
Date Mailed: July 5, 2001

‘That is 66 days before September 11. Continue.’

‘Bible Code Discovery Proves “Beast” Identity and Global Conspiracy.
Sandpoint, Idaho - The identity of the notorious “beast” that prospers from the greatest plagues in history is offered as prophetic revelation in a new book by award winning health science writer, Dr. Leonard G. Horowitz. The revelation makes it possible, for the first time, to prove statistically, a global genocidal conspiracy.’

‘We suffer him to get awards? I can’t believe this. The lodges in Americas have become too lax. The grand lodge masters have become too tolerant, too lenient. Where is the rigor gone, the strickness of the days when we downed Kennedies, I wonder. Continue.’

‘…According to the Bible, during the End Times tribulation, God's counsel to humanity for physical and spiritual salvation from the prophesied plagues involves gaining encrypted “wisdom,” a code, that identifies the deceptive culprits in a global conspiracy to commit genocide, that is, the mass killing of people for economic gain.’

‘I am the deceptive culprit, my boy. And he is dead wrong. There is no economic gain in killing thirty million Slavs. He commits profanation. He allows other culprits beside me, the duke of Saxe-Coburg-Gotha, Liege and sire of half a dozen kings. Blasphemy. Continue.’

‘…The Book of Revelation (21:9) implicates idol worshipers who misuse drugs, and their power, in connection with what might best be called “iatrogenocide” in which malpracticing M.D.s-medical deities-have been increasingly implicated. In Death in the Air: Globalism, Terrorism and Toxic Warfare (Tetrahedron Publishing Group, 2001; 1-888-508-4787), this secret code and hidden intelligence is detailed.’

‘Do I own shares in Bayer? I don't think I do. Never mind, continue.’

‘…Hinting the beast's number, 666, is also the name of a man, Revelation 13:18, advises the wise to “count” to determine the devildoer's identities. Counting a name, according to Dr. Horowitz's book, requires an alphanumeric code which apparently relates to the multiples of six (6), whereby A=6, B=12, C=18 and so on through the letter Z. Assigning these numbers to the letters of suspected villains reveals the conspirators in a statistically provable global conspiracy.’

‘Why six? Why prejudiced against six? Continue.’

‘Among the names of leading suspects, Dr. Horowitz advises, KISSINGER is the only name that decodes to 666.’

'A Christian Bible decoded with Capitals of an English alphabet. What a Hebrew code! A is 6 and B is 12. But then, it is their Aleph, Beth and Camel… I wonder if there is something to it. Check it out anyway.’

The albino added up on his fingers:

‘KISSINGER 66-54-114-114-54-84-42-30-108 Total 666.’

‘No big deal so far. With only 26 English capitals for hundred thousand English words or names. Continue.’

‘…Befitting this beastial identity, Nelson Rockefeller's protégé, Henry Kissinger, has been the leading advisor to the Merck pharmaceutical company-the world's largest vaccine maker. Incredibly, using this system, the word “VACCINATION” also deciphers to “666.” Thus, the probability that Kissinger and vaccination share the “mark of the beast” by chance, given their common link to Merck, is inordinately remote.’

‘Check Vaccination.’

‘VACCINATION 132-6-18-18-54-84-6-120-54-90-84 Total 666’

‘I bet Rockefeller will fall short. Try!’

ROCKEFELLER 108-90-18-66-30-36-30-72-72-30-108 Total 660. So close! Another A and it would be 666. How did you know uncle?’

‘Don’t you think Coburg, the world conqueror, ought to know a bit more than a Hebrew Wizard? Try Huguenot.’

‘HUGUENOT-48-126-42-126-30-84-90-120 total 666. Rockefeller is a Huguenot, isn’t he, Uncle?’

‘From Koblenz directly to the United States. From Neu Wied to be more exact. Like the king we gave Albania once. Vassal of Hesse-Kassel. Same pedigree as Amsel Bauer renamed Rothschildt; except more valuable than our Frankfurt banker moved to London.’

‘ROTHSCHILDS are not Yours? But they have been in territory of Coburg-London for generations.’

‘Still, a vassal of Hesse remains a Hessian, himself and his progeny forever and after.’

‘Huguenot Hessian.’

‘Yes, most of the Huguenots were originally deployed from Hesse to France, you know what for. Baden and Wurttemberg gave very few legions. Bavaria gave none at all, all its human assets messing up Italy at the time.’

‘Catholic Bavaria...’

‘Oh no, the Hessians were deployed into France long before Luther. They waited embedded until we provided an ideology so that they could start yelling it without being exposed as Germans. Lutheran Frenchmen, very funny, but it almost worked, you know. New Bern! That was a mistake. New Paris the Huguenots should name their settlement in America.’

‘But then, was Lutherism not a mistake for the purpose?’

‘Turned out to be, But only because a few Bourbons associated it with East of the Rhine.’

‘Was that not an unavoidable thing? Uncle, our ancestors have been fools.’

‘Not at all! We had substituted the word Protestant for Lutheran and made Scotland to be known as the center of it.’

‘Why Scotland?’

‘It is like Pearl Harbor, you know. A place as far from us as feasibly possible. For all I care, it might be Malta or the Holy Land just as well.’

‘And how did we get the thing into Scotland?’

‘Marie de Guise’

‘Maria von Lothringen? Was not her becoming queen of Scots sometime before Luther and Calvin?’

‘You do not send people after the ideology is forged. You send them ahead and give them time to embed themselves in professions that matter. Then, by the time you announce the ideology from somewhere, they get the idea and propagate it. They adorn the thing with protests against local injustices and corruptions, which they will have produced in the generation before. Textbook case of prelude to usurpation. Machiavelli never advanced that far in his researches, haha, stupid arrogant Latin. But he had already written more than we could tolerate. Imagine, the Kaiser had to occupy Florence for no reason but get the manuscripts edited out. So close the Latino had come to expose the usurpation of Spain by us. No line of it in his extant works of course. Though it was the first thing worth at the time writing about for posterity: conquest of the Spanish Empire by German ruling class, from King Emperor down to the captains. Like later in Britain and then suddenly everywhere. But you know all that. Proceed with reading this Hebrew Machiavelli, this Dr. Leonard Horowitz’

‘…As described by Newsweek's Managing Editor, Walter Isaacson, Kissinger is “the world's most famous . . . banking elite . . . consultant.” He is the man chiefly responsible for implementing the agenda to deploy nuclear weapons around the globe during the 1960s, and was cited by two previous CIA directors, Richard Helms and William Colby, as overseeing biological weapons developments during the 1970s when immune system destroying depopulation alternatives, like the AIDS and Ebola viruses suddenly “emerged.” 

‘We can efford losing Hans I suppose. Though as valuable to him as Rockefeller was to Hesse, Heinz Heinrich Kissinger is not indispensable to the Elector of Bavaria. He got many more embedded very high up in the United States. Many more than we, Coburg, got there. That may be a problem in the future. After Der Tag, I mean, when the spoils will have to be divided. Three thousand duchies carved out of the once United States.’

‘If Canada will remain vassal to you, Coburg, will Mexico be put under Habsburg again?’

‘That is the fantasy of cousin Otto, of course. But the Habsburg-Lorraine Knabe was there merely to accompany Charlotte Coburg, the empress of all Mexicos.’ 

‘Ach so. If both Canada and Mexico are ours, Hesse will insist on what lies between.’

‘Yes, my boy. Even I cannot give Orange and Nassau counties of Florida to the noble house of Schwarzberg-Rudolstadt.’

‘Sonderhausen.’

‘What?’

‘You mean Schwarzberg-Sonderhausen, but I should not worry you with names of minor German princely houses and their several million titled heirs whose best talented can get no better job than errand boys for a reigning Duke.’

‘I am no reigning duke of Saxe-Coburg-Gotha. My grandfather Karl Edward von London abdicated in the year 1918 when my father Friedrich Josias von Coburg was born.’

‘All the dukes of the Reich abdicated on November 1918. But that was merely to satisfy the Gnadenloss Woodrow Wilson, that latter day Bonaparte, that Scottish Presbyterian nightmare of the Second Reich.’ 

‘My boy, don’t ever mention that hateful name in my presence.’

‘But why, uncle? No permanent damage done. Napoleon had the First Reich proclaimed dissolved. It mattered not. The next Reich was proclaimed from the very same palace in which the Latin dictator had written that order seventy years before.’

‘Exactly, my boy. And this coming Reich has to be proclaimed from where that other hateful name, that Scot dictator, wrote his fourteen principles.’ 

‘We are a little past seventy years though.’

‘I care not if it is hundred years past. Es wird vollgebracht. I pledge my Coburg honor.’

‘Uncle my I ask something intimate?’

‘Sure, my boy. This one time.’

‘How do you feel, knowing 75 percent of Americans, I mean the ones who are not blessed with German Vaterheit, know nothing of you and would value honor of actor Sean Connory more than your honor?’

‘Infantiles! They know not their peril. So much the better for the Fourth Reich. That reminds me - where does that audacious American Women stand on our lists?’

‘Kitty Kelley? The same as Leonard Horowitz. Not feasible to eliminate yet.’

‘And her book?’

‘You mean the Royals?’

‘I certainly do not mean Mother Theresa, do I, nephew?’

‘Well, we ban one, we ban all. It is cheaper. Shorter message to bookshops, author’s name.’

‘What of demand? There must be people who know not enough to fear us. Surely some of them go into a book shop and ask for any book of Kitty Kelley.’

‘Oh, we have security cameras in all bookshops, No problem there.’

‘All of them traced?’

‘All of them.’

‘Good. Subversion starts ever so imperceptibly. Beware the Anfaenge! Now lets hear more of the Hebrew Machiavelli. Read on.’

‘George W. Merck, president of Merck, was America's biological weapons industry director during World War II and the Cold War, according to the U.S. Army.’

‘Merck! Merckel! Angela Merckel! You see now? I was opposed to the election of Angela Merckel. But the other ten electors would not listen to me. I could veto of course but I had more pressing issues at the time which obliged  me to compromise. You see now what has happened? Imagine the non-German Americans, and there are 75 percent of them, and that is three millions for each percentage point; they all were familiar with the Merck Corporation. It is a household word in America. But none associated the name of Merck with Germany. Not until the cute little Angela Merckel of the cute little DDR became president of the Christian Democratic Party of this Deutschland. ...

Our strength in America is in ethnic anonimity. I am already worried about presence of the beer producing Tycoon Busch in Pennsylvania; lest some dissident American make a connection between Bush and Busch, Bosch, Bosch castle in Holland. Now millions around the world make connection between Busch-Rumsfeld Junta and the Nazis; they point at parallels between Reichstag fire and World Trade Center Fire because they find the propaganda sequal very similar. But not one dissident imagines the Busch family to be ethnic German. They produce thousands of pages on how Prescott Busch worked with the Nazis until he was stopped by the Justice Department from trading with the enemy. But none thinks Prescott Busch might be one of those Germans who immerhin makes 25 percent of America; and that is three million persons for each percentage point. ...

Now suppose some silly Busch here in this Deutschland were Kanzler just when September 11 succeeded. All these dissidents would instantly focus on ethnicity of Busch and in doing so, if they failed to find documents for the Busch clan, they would still come out of the search with lots of documents for German origin of Ruhmsfeld. You know what his kin did from Bremen? Focus the mocus published it before someone with brains would see and warn. The Rumsfelds of Bremen reject their cousin as a kin because they are against this war! Hah! Distancing themselves: that is what they thought they were doing. Fortunately damage control moved in and removed from the Internet all references to Rumsfeld being an ethnic German.’ 

‘Stupid mistake, that from Ruhmsfelds of Bremen. Even more so sending Bremer to Iraq! Our capacity for damage control is overloaded. We must cut back on routine scanning of the global press. Such overload gives a chance to the likes of Leonard Horowitz to weed the Web for a time until we have capacity free to come back to him.’

‘Of course. He has no priority for as long as he does not even think of suspecting German-Americans as the villains. We care not for metaphorical comparisons of Busch Junta with the Nazis. Nor Rockefeller links to I. G. Farben which is not here nor now. Read on!’


‘…Beast directors, Dr. Horowitz reiterates, “described as deceptive prostitutes for the world's wealthiest merchants and political leaders, according to Revelation 18:3, also practiced 'sorcery' [18:23] derived from the root word 'PHARMACOPEA.' These are BABYLON'S drug kingpins who stole the blood of the prophets, saints, and God's people according to Revelation 18:24. This perfectly describes Kissinger, his Rockefeller associates that direct the blood banking industry, and their affiliated drug overlords.”

‘Babylon is a good diversion. Let the Hebrew wizard err in his holy deserts. Let him not come this way. Let him not connect Heinz Heinrich Kissinger to Fuerth, Bavaria. Let him not connect Rockefeller the Huguenot to the Rhine. Waiter!’

‘…Dr. Horowitz, a forty-nine year old, Philadelphia born, Messianic Jew whose Hebrew name identifies him as a “Lion of God” with Davidian and Mosaic blood lineage, is an internationally known authority in public health and AIDS education.’

‘So, so! Lion, is he? Well I suppose every Hebrew goat imagines itself a lion. Lineage of David the Harper too. His being of any lineage is no danger to us but his knowing it, is. Half of North Africa is probably direct descendents of Hannibal but as long as they know it not, they are manageable. You, for example, are a power, because you know your lineage from the Duke von Schwarzburg-Sonderhausen who was made a prince of the Reich in 1697. Does not matter if it was only a minor prince, one among ten thousand of that rank in the Reich, infact, no more than synonym for captain of infantery... It lessens not your power if there were half a million princes of the Reich already at the time and several million today but augments it. You are not alone and that is something on this dangerous planet. ...

It matters not if every bureaucrat of the Reich is a prince of the Reich. It matters not if princes of the Reich were so many that they flooded ranks of the military from top general down to captains and lieutenants. It matters not that one of the thousand Princes of Neu Wied whom we made king of Albania was a simple captain of Prussian army before he was made king. He was again merely a captain in the Prussian army after he was deposed by unruly Albanians and sent back to Germany. ...

It matters not that one of the thirty thousand Princes of Coburg at the time whom we made king of Bulgaria was a mere captain in the Austrian army before and a mere stamp collector after the unruly Bulgarians deposed and sent him back to Germany. ...

What matters is that these several million princes of the Reich know their lineage. That is the difference between mere vassals in the Reich and the princes. But read on! Everyone who knows his mother in the reich is a prince. Those who do not are mere vassals tied to the soil on which they were born from chaos and confusion.’

After a moment of silence, the albino resumed reading:

‘…The Harvard trained investigator considered God's counsel regarding the utility of counting the name of a man and the entire beast system. This urgency, he realized, corresponded to the darkest time in earth's history, which he believes is at hand-the time of the great tribulation-when (according to Revelation 6:8) the beast kills more than one-quarter of the earth's deceived masses through plagues, famine, and war.’

‘See there! If it is written that I kill a quarter of the world, why, I have to do it! A quarter of Africa I have marked already with the sign, which is the virus. But North Africa I could not penetrate yet. Why does not the wizard show me how I could do this? Is it not in his book of books? I could appreciate some hints here. The Cartagan Colonel, that born again Hannibal is not going to allow me do it to North Africa just because a Leonard Horowitz says it is written in the Bible. I got to know the details. Come on Lion of God, of the tribe of Judah, you can do better. Tell me how to penetrate China with the virus. SARS I failed. What next? If everything is in your Bible, then find out and  tell me that. Why, I could use such a handbook of how to! Maybe the Hebrew Machiavelli will tell us yet. Read on’


‘…Always darkest before the dawn, the good news heralding the Messianic Age begins with Revelation 13:18. Here we are advised to count the name of a person who bares the beast's numerical identity. This, Dr. Horowitz realized, reflects God's wisdom regarding the need to diagnose, that is, “see through” to the heart of the problem-the heart of the beast-before we can effectively administer treatment.’

‘I would gladly show them my heart except we know their treatment all too well. It is Code Louis XX. The Latin House of Capote administered it to our cute Templars in 1307, a good century after Saladin had done so. Capotes finis, of course. Then again the Latin house of Bourbon, a side line of the same Capotes, administered it to our Jesuits in 1773, a good century and half after Japan had already done so. Bourbons finis, of course. Read on!’

‘…According to Dr. Horowitz, God blessed him with the wisdom with which to diagnose the instigators of the greatest epidemics in earth's history, of planetary Iatrogenocide, thus heralding the great healing to come. His work in exposing the man-made origins of AIDS and Ebola viruses, detailed in his best-selling book Emerging Viruses: AIDS & Ebola-Nature, Accident or Intentional? (Tetrahedron Press, 1998), won him the “Author of the Year Award” from the World Natural Health Organization. 

‘Man-made origins of viruses! Man-made! The good Hebrew declared me for man but he would undeclare it as soon as I showed him my heart. Hebrew is no different from Latin and Slav in this matter.  It is not because of the Bible either. This species, brute native of this planet cannot understand us! Away with them and let us make a better in our image. Why should we not have a thousand laboratories along the Rhine cloning millions who will abhor Louis XX as we do? ...

If terms of 1945 surrender forbid us to make nuclear weapons, should we not make the best of virus production? If we miscarry on this planet and perish with its silly fauna, let none judge us. Let any who survives from our boys and recovers from the loss, judge the non-Germanic America of wild Scots and Irish, Italian and French, Polish and Asian, natives all and instinctively united against us, abhorring us for no good reason, by sheer prejudice of wild animals, whenever we show a little of what is in our hearts. It is they who force us to these subterranean vaults, to lodges with passwords. And yet they know not how they force us to these things because most of the times they err around like mindless animals. Read on!’

‘…His solutions for health and defending the “Temple of God”-the human body-against the current and coming plagues were explained in Healing Celebrations, a book twice featured on Trinity Broadcasting Network's (TBN) “Praise the Lord” program.’

‘I know too well with what filth the human body is filled. Temple indeed. Crystalline Rabies virus is a beauty compared to the bowels of men. There is a temple for you. Continue.’

‘…Quoting from Revelation, he refers humbly to his providence in scripture, and public health, by advising [5:5], “Don't cry, behold, the Lion of the tribe of Judah, the Root of David, has won the right to open the scroll . . . Those who have ears, let them hear what the Spirit is saying to the Messianic communities, . . . [from, (3:6-13)] the angel of the Messianic community in Philadelphia, [who] write[s]: 'Here is the message of The Holy One, the True One, the one who has the key of David, who, if he opens something, no one else can shut it, . . . I have put in front of you an open door . . . Because you did obey my message about persevering, I Will keep you from the time of trial coming upon the whole world.”

‘Holy virus! The man is regelrecht authorized to find us out, to do us in, to knock us off, to get rid of us, to liquidate and waste us, to subject us to our very own final solution. I wish we had patented the method and obliged America to hunt down and eliminate all potential patent violators at the expense of the American tax payer, like they do for protection of our medical patents.’

‘…Dr. Horowitz's advice is available for free over the Internet at http://www.tetrahedron.org. His books, videos, and audiotapes are found in select libraries, bookstores, and direct from the publisher by calling 1-888-508-4787.
-NOTE TO JOURNALISTS: For an interview ooor article on this area of Dr. Horowitz´s research, please call Christopher Rudy at 1-800-336-9266. Copyright 2001 Tetrahedron.org’

‘Call him.’

‘What?’

‘I said call him.’

‘Oh, I have a call for you. The message is:  11 09 19 44

‘Ach, mein lieber Professor Doctor Kraft-Ebbing wants an audience.’

’That is what the message I just brought was?’

‘Sure. What did you think?’

‘I don’t have the key to this cipher.’

‘But you guessed something. You always guess something, I know. And you recombine well. What did you guess this time?’

‘Hallelujah! the event of September 11, 1944 is revenged at last! The Atlas that crossed the Reich border on that day is brought down on his knees, Hallelujah!’

‘Ach so! Zufalls combination. Or your mind is preoccupied with revenge for 1945. Can’t blame you, my boy, but the stakes were high. Had we not started that war, House of Coburg would certainly lose the British Empire within a few years. It was not like now, you know. Coburg of London owned a quarter of the landed estate on this planet at the time and we thought no sacrifice was big enough to protect it; not even a humiliating defeat of the Reich, if we could eliminate the future dissenters of all the kingdoms under German kings. ...

We had to produce a paper monster at which the world would attack under supreme command of Coburg von London. Besides the quarter of the globe that was owned by Coburg von London, another batch of countries was under Coburg von Brussels which would almost certainly be lost within two years of losing London. Nothing could keep Coburg in Brussels after Coburg was deposed from London. And then it was bye bye colonies, bye bye Africa. ...

Sacrifice of the Reich losing another war was not a too big sacrifice considering what we managed to keep at the time. The elimination of thirty million Slavs and six million Hebrews was never the main objective of that war. It was just the bonus, to compensate for the loss to stem duchies that was certain. ...

We never meant to bring the Reich as winner out of that war, you know. We had no such plan regarding a defeated Britain. My Grandfather Karl Edward von London was the Elector who chose Hitler, you know. Being Duke of Coburg from 1900 to 1954, he was the Elector who could make or veto both world wars. He made them to prevent Coburg of Britain from being deposed. Considering the planetary landed estate registered to London, he was justified of course. I would have to do the same thing in his place. I may still do it if I live long enough; else, Hubertus Michael, my heir, will have to do it after me. We are at a critical junction  in Britain: 333 years of German rule, you know. That is from 1688.'

The Duke continued in a singsong voice:

'Treason never prospers what is the reason
If treason prosper it is glorious revolution....'

Then the duke continued in his usual creepy tone of a dark master illuminating his acolyte, a Queen Mab instructing a Frick or a novice with great potential.

'Karl Edward was son of Leopold Coburg, son of Victoria Hanover. Leopold Coburg was brother of Edward VII Coburg, king of Britain. His son George V Coburg, king of Britain. Now, Karl Edward, my grandfather, had no better Coburg at hand to place on throne of Britain in case Britain was defeated by the Reich. Most certainly the Coburg monarchy in Britain would end immediately or within a year if we decided on making Britain loose that war. A quarter of the globe would then be lost to the Coburg of London and another eighth of the globe would be lost to Coburg of Brussels: central third of Africa included...

Something like this happened in the Balkans after 1945, you know, because of Soviet power there. We managed to keep Greece thanks to Heinrich Truman but we lost all the rest of Balkans. Remind me to tell you the story of how Greece could be put under a German king once more and even with American help while America hated everything German and pretzels had to be banned in England. It is a textbook case. The secret is not to allow a single paper in Britain and America to say that the king to be installed in Greece at the cost of five years of civil war, that king, happens to be a German; not any German, but grand son of the most hated Kaiser of the first world war. Ha ha! What a charade of a planet we got ourselves stuck in. You want to say something?’

‘The message is:  11 09 19 44. What shall be the response?’

‘Ach, mein lieber Professor Doctor Kraft-Ebbing wants an audience. Tell him to come at his discretion. What else?’

‘Meaning?’

’44 19 09 11. What else, you fool! Off you go. But wait a minute. Before you go, I would like to check a couple of words for that Bible code. What words did Lion of Juda say add up to 666?’

‘KISSINGER and VACCINATION.’

‘None others?’

‘Not in this printout here but I have seen other printouts of him.’

‘And?’

‘And what?’

‘And what other words does he find matching 666?’

‘There is only one other.’

‘Say it. It is not that hated name, is it?’

‘No, it is NEW YORK’

‘Check it out while you still have the key list. A is 6, B is 12…’

‘NEWYORK-84-30-138-150-90-108-66 total 666’

‘No other words does Lion of Juda discover to add up to 666?’

‘None. George Bush makes 642. Short of 666 by a letter D for 24.’

‘Try Roosevelt!’

‘ROOSEVELT-108-90-90-114-30-132-30-72-120 total 786 exceeds by one T; worth 120’

‘Write it Phonetically as the Hebrew wizard would. ROSVELT.’ 

‘ROSVELT-108-90-114-132-30-72-120 total 666’

‘That is the trick.’

‘Oh I see what you mean... A little manipulation can fit anything anywhere.’

‘Almost. Now try two more words.’

‘EISENHOWER AND NIXON?’

‘No, they wont add to 666.’

‘Why not?’

‘None of the pair was ours.’

‘With a name like Eisen…? No  Pennsylvania Deutch? Not a vassal of Nassau?’

‘Not a chance. A hawk in the cuckoo nest! Miracle of a millennium. We were not sure until April 5, 1945 though. We always assumed he was of us just like Maxime Weygand-Coburg in France and Lord Mountbatten of Hesse-Battenberg in Britain, supreme commander of the allies against us. But on April 5, when he scolded an American soldier who had bumped into a German prisoner and was about to say sorry, it was then that we knew General Eisenhower was not of our seed.'

'Oh nein. What a shock for ten Fuehrer.'

'Yes, the general said: what is the matter, soldier? Still hesitating to hate them Germans? Some said America should keep out of this war, never saying but meaning leave France under German boots. Some said Americans did not know what they were fighting for; well soldiers, now that you have seen this concentration camps, now you know what you are fighting against.'

'Oh! Poor Fuehrer! He was given assurance from archive Gotha that Eisenhoover was of our blood; just like Georg Patton and Heinrich Truman. Roosevelt too?'

'Those three were our seed of course. How else could we engage America in the Pacific for so long, while Paris was under our occupation? How else could we keep the American navy parked on the exact opppsite side of the globe from Auschwitz during the first two years of our offensive against Latins and Slavs, with British complicity? You see of course why we needed Georg VI Coburg, king of all Britons, against us in the war. Without such a loud carnival performer raising hell against us, Scottish-Irish and Latin Americans could not be pacifized for so long by their media even though run by our race. But still, even the best genealogy archive in the world can err, my boy. Now try my two words, will you?’

‘What two words then?’

‘BERCHTESGADEN and DEUTSCHLAND. What else?’

‚BERCHTESGADEN-12-30-108-18-48-120-30-114-42-6-24-30-84 total 666’

‚And?’

‚DEUTSCHLAND-24-30-126-120-114-18-48-72-6-84-24 total 666’

‚And you say the Hebrew Machiavelli mentions not these?’

‘Not in what he published so far.’

‘Then in what he has hidden somewhere to be exposed if something suspicious happens to him. I know the hearts of those fanatics who do not give a fig for their life; they cling to it all the same and take precautions to protect them from our violent or smooth final solutions. That is why it is so much easier to get them in their millions during wars rather than get them one by one on congested street accidents or overcrowded hospital operations.’

‘Maybe we should contract him to that Latin Golem we have in Ingolstadt. He would know how to find his cache where documents may be hidden before eliminating the target. What was his name?’

‘Carlos Lehder Rivas.’ said the Duke.

‘German father?’

‘He believes so. Another hawk in the red zone! Except we know it and he does not. Perfect Golem. Well think about giving him the contract on Leonard Horowitz and let me know soon.’

‘I will pass the other message now.’

‘Ach, mein lieber Professor Doctor Kraft-Ebbing wants an audience. Tell him to come at his discretion.’

‘Meaning 45 19 09 11. What else, me fool! Off I go. But wait a minute. Before I go... thank you, dear uncle.’

‘I wouldn’t know what for. Get out of here, Prince Schwarzburg-Rudolstadt.’


	Chapter 4- NUMEROLOGY IN A MEDIEVAL CASTLE OF DDR


	More of Code Horowitz


Albino prince Schwarzburg-Sonderhausen left the cave without correcting the duke for the slip of tongue. I would like the camera to remain because I had a feeling this old duke would blurt out secrets freely when he was talking to himself. This was not to be. After a momentary hesitation the camera turned and followed the Albino. Another time, Coburg, we will catch you yet, I thought. Judging by the stoic demeanors, the monks did not share my sense of loss. Maybe they thought the Duke was a sitting duck now that we had his coordinates. The alien was not goint to anywhere in the near future, considering this castle was the lair of his breed for no less than a thousand years. Maybe that is where the high priests of Memphis and Thebes moved when Persians destroyed their Star Gates sometime before, well, think man, maybe before the second Temple, whenever that may have been.

The Albino was traversing the same route back. He kept to the right of narrow fissures, never making an exception even when overhanging stone protrusions for some strange reason filling that side of the passageways forced him to double. He doubled a good many times but not once stepped aside to the left side, which he could do to avoid the obstructions.

Soon the Albino was back in the communication room. The communicator was in exactly the same position we left him. 

‘Sorry I kept you waiting, Prince Schwarzberg-Rudolstadt!’

‘I was not waiting for you, Prince Schwarzburg-Sonderhausen!’

‘I thought you needed a reply from the old Coburg which I was to bring.’

‘That maybe, Prince Schwarzburg-Sonderhausen, but I was betting on you never making it back.’

‘Not making it back from the cave? You mean alive, don’t you?’

‘No, I mean not to leave the cave in any guise. Many a bone is still there, isn’t it, Prince? The message, if you please!’

‘The reply is 44 19 09 11. What else, you fool!

The communicator touched a switch near a red light on the board and talked into a perforated metal near the green light that came on.

‘Jawohl, Professor Doctor Kraft-Ebbing. You are to see the Highborn, Hochgeboren, at your discretion.’

He touched the same toggle switch, watched the green light turn to red and only than looked at the Albino who was standing very still all this time.

‘Na, Serene Highness? Was the Duke still busy with that code?’

The Albino did not say anything.

‘Come on, I know all about it. The Duke told me about three words that Jew has marked with mark of the beast.’

‘Kissinger, Vaccination and New York?’

‘Exactly. What nonsense. The mad scientist names in his books hundreds of names for evil characters, people and corporations, banks and agencies, and none of them carry mark of the beast. Except a German-American, a medical practice, and a city in America.’

‘Well, in that case you don’t know that two other words have been found that add to 666.’

‘Really? When? It was not on the domain of Leonard Horowitz last weekend.’

‘No, he did not find them.’

‘Our Duke? The Duke found two words that give 666 and the Jew has missed them?

‘Well, yes. At least, not published yet.’

‘What are the words?’

‘Berchtesgaden!’

‘Don't you say! And?’

‘Deutschland!’

‘Uber alles. Well, well. WHy didn't I think of these?’

In the ensuing silence, the two creatures appeared like puzzled apes. I remembered the obnoxious, disgusting creatures described by Johnatan Swift in Gulliver's travels: yahoos. The two thin and long yahoos were silent for a long while. Then, the communicator reached for a laptop and opened it.

‘No other country name gives the number? Only Deutchland?’

‘What do you expect?’

‘There has got to be several among 200 nations registered at the United Nations. Had Germany really been the only state name that adds to 666 according to that Jewish code, then certainly Horowitz would make a big deal of it. He never mentions this. Even though it was no more than a coincidence, it would be something more than what has he got so far, Kissinger and New York…’

‘And Vaccination. He does not look into country names.’

‘Don’t bet on it. He goes into everything but keeps quiet on where he finds nothing that could be misinterpreted by silly logic, by a little twisting. Here with an indefinite there with a definite article as it can me made to fit.’

‘I checked all country names though.’

‘Und?’

‘Venezuela gives 666’

‘And?’

‘None other.’

‘No other country name but Deutschland and Venezuela?’

‘None other. What do you make of this?’

‘It is silly, I tell you. It can mean nothing.’

‘Not a vector to Augsburg Banker Welser?’

‘Certainly not. We Germans have colonized many more countries than Venezuela.’

‘But Venezuela 1520-40 was the first ever case of an overseas colony under pure Germans. It is unique.’

‘Didn’t last long, did it? Twenty years only. Then Venezuela reverted back to the king of Spain.’

‘Also a German. Charles V Habsburg.’

‘Exactly, and he owned all Americas, not only Venezuela. See? Nothing unique there.’

‘If you say so. But mark of the beast aside, that code of him is a bit unheimlich I must confess.’

‘In what way?’

‘Well, in the way words come together for having the same value.’

‘Oh?’

‘Yes. Here I have copies of pages from the domain of Horowitz. To the amount of, let me see, 140 pages. Guess how many words he has there.’

‘Hundred thousand?’

‘106,043’

‘Including all the repetitions of course.’

‘Of course. His code adds to 666 for Kissinger. So, I wanted to know what value Horowitz would give.’

‘HOROWITZ-8-15-18-15-23-9-20-26 adds to 134 times 6 is 804. 

‘The Duke told you the code, did he? Quite simple really, 6 for A, 12 for B, 18 for C…’

‘Drop 138 from 804 and you get 666.’

‘Drop how?’

‘Drop the W. Write it Horoitz and you get 666’

‘Very true: 8-15-18-15-9-20-26 adds to 111. Add letters first and multiply the total by six. It is simpler.’

‘You said something else was bothering you in this code?’

‘Yes. In hundred thousand words of his articles, how many words or phrases give 666, you think?’

‘Beside Kissinger, Vaccination and New York? No idea.’

‘Nun also, here it is: 438 words or word sequences give 666 for total of their letter values.’

‘What is a word sequence?’

‘It is two words in sequence in the text as it is.’

‘Like?’

The communicator yahoo read from the lap top.

‘American medical- Research labs- The darkest- Attenuated- At Litton- Of Litton -
Animal defender- And charities-
A Rockefeller- First ny- Banking axis- For money- Harriman became- Monetary- Manhattans-
Central Africa- Colonies and-Colony by- Conference in- And Afghanistan-
Hate group- Really hated-
Henry Luce- Is censored- Taken over- Twice before-
Incredible fact- New Mexico- This agency- 
Van Helsing-
Wiretaps- Audiotapes-’

‘Why would you pick these double words?’

‘The software I use here picks them when sum of two in sequence gives 666.’

‘What can worry you in this junk? A Rockefeller, which Rockefeller? Harriman became, became what?’

‘No, no! That would only show that the code is nonsense since with an article or an adjective, any noun might be added to, built up, until it gives 666.’

‘Who is Henry Luce?’

‘I will read the paragraph where the name occurs…

THE PURCHASE OF PUBLIC OPINION
In the following years, not only newsmen, but whole newspapers were bought, financed or founded with Rockefeller money. So Time Magazine, which Henry Luce started in 1923, had been taken over by J.P. Morgan when the magazine got into financial difficulties. When Morgan died and his financial empire crumbled, the House of Rockefeller wasted no time in taking over this lush editorial plum also, together with its sister magazines, Fortune and Life, and built for them an expensive 14-story home of their own in Rockefeller Center - the Time & Life Building. Rockefeller was also co-owner of Time's "rival" magazine, Newsweek, which had been established in the early days of the New Deal with money put up by Rockefeller, Vincent Astor, the Harrimann family and other members and allies of the House.

‘Oh, that Henry Luce who started the Time magazine. Horowitz writes this stuff?’

‘It is mirrored on his domain but signed Hans Ruesch. Title: Rockefeller Drug Censor Empire.’

‘Well done Hans, get as close to the enemy as you can. Agree with him if you must for a time.’

‘Well, yes, that is what it must be. That is beyond my point now.’

‘What is your point, prince? What else is bothering you in this unserious code?’

‘Now, Horowitz adds to…’

‘804 if you insist in keeping the W in place.’

‘Well, yes, how many other words among the hundred thousand add to 804, you think?’

‘Tell me. A thousand?’

 ‘No, just 120.’

‘Repetitions included.’

‘Yes.’

‘Nonsensical word sequences included too.’

‘Yes, but there were not any.’

‘Nothing like Of Litton, At Litton?’

‘None. The hundred twenty reduce to 17 unique.’

‘Dropping the repetitions. What are they?’

‘Assessment Breakthrough Demonstrate DENTISTRY Horowitz Information Intellectual Interviewed Nationalist Pastorates Politically Responsible Supported Systematic Testifying Transcribing Tremendous Unprecedented’

‘Alphabetically arranged. So where is the problem?’

‘Can you spot a single word among the 17 that is not directly relevant to the man Horowitz and his work or what he claims to be doing?’

‘Sure. Dentistry.’

‘I will read from his domain the paragraph in which this word occurs.

“Who Am I To Make Such Claims?
Let me briefly summarize my training. In 1977, I received my doctorate in medical dentistry from Tufts University in Boston. I later received several advanced degrees... One in public health from Harvard University. I joined the faculties at Tufts University and Harvard. I directed an alternative health center for more than a decade. In the early 1980s, the Associated Press featured my work as a trendsetter. My clinic integrated dentistry with general medicine, acupuncture, chiropractic, nutrition, massage, homeopathy, and other ""alternative"" methods of healing.
In 1999, I won the prestigious ""Author of the Year Award"" from the World Natural Health Organization for my tenth book. This became my first best-seller, Emerging Viruses: AIDS & Ebola-Nature, Accident or Intentional?”

‘His very own autobiography?’

‘Jawohl.’

‘In his own words?’

‘Yes.’

‘The code breaker is a dentist?’

‘Among other things, yes.’

‘But my dear prince, don’t you see the circular logic here? Of course those words have to be relevant to the man and his work because they are words used in his autobiography.’

‘I wish it were just that. Except there are two objections to your comfort.’

‘First objection?’

‘His domain has lots of material on lots of people in trade, industry, politics and finance. It is not just his autobiography.’

‘Second objection?’

‘I have ran the same program on Roget’s Thesaurus and results are similar. Words having value of 804 according to his code of sixes, are words relating to his work.

‘Only in the English language.’

‘Well yes, of course.’

‘Tremendous Unprecedented Breakthrough Testifying... Demonstrate Transcribing Information... Politically Responsible…is he really such a man?’

‘He has been claiming all these. And he is not author of the Lexicon.’

‘What is Pastorates?’

‘I will read the passage where it occurs…’

""THE LUDLOW MASSACRE""
The United Mine Workers had asked for higher wages and better living conditions for the miners of the Colorado Fuel and Iron Company, one of the many Rockefeller-owned companies.
The miners - mostly immigrants from Europe's poorest countries - lived in shacks provided by the company at exorbitant rent. Their low wages ($1,68 a day) were paid in script redeemable only at company stores charging high prices. The churches they attended were the pastorates of company-hired ministers; their children were taught in company-controlled schools; the company libraries excluded books that the Bible-thumping Rockefellers deemed "subversive", such as "Darwin' s Origin of the Species." The company maintained a force of detectives, mine guards, and spies whose job it was to keep the camp quarantined from the danger of unionization.

‘Churches they attended were the pastorates of company-hired ministers... Horowitz wrote this?’

‘No, actually it is the same article by Hans. But Horowitz mirrors it on his domain.’

‘I see. Careful there, Hans!’

‘You see? Horowitz domain has lots of mirrored material from other penmen and yet all the 17 words that add up to 805 are like attributes of the work Horowitz claims he is doing. Even his organization Tetrahedron that does the publishing and preaching can best be described as a pastorate.’

‘I see. You talked these with the Duke?’

‘Not yet.’

‘Why not?’

‘I am not finished with analysis yet.’

‘Analyzing, are you? What else have you so for?’

‘I scanned a poetry book. Title: Winter; author: Heinrich Heine; language: original German text’

‚Any words of 666?’

‚Der Luther, Politisch, Deutschland, Freien Rhein...’

‚Ah you knew that before the duke, you rascal ... That is nothing. We already know Deutschland. What else?’

‘Chapter four of Mein Kampf.’

‘Sieg Heil!’

‚That is 444! and so are Occult and London’

‚What the Lucifer are you talking about?'

‘Bingo. Sieg Heil, Occult and London are 444 each. And so is Lucifer, now that you mention.’

‘Interesting. What have you in the Munich chapter of Mein Kampf?’

‘Munich Lodge adds to 666’

‘That is not in Fuhrer’s book!’

‘No but it is the only lodge that gives 666 so far.’

‘You will find more lodges if you keep looking. There are a million of them. all with exotic names. What words in chapter four gave 666?’

‘104 words and combinations give 666. Of which, 23 are sort of eerie. Unheimlich.’

‘What are they?’

‘Brutally Calculation Effect-only Opposing Opinions Guarantees
Humanity
Self-conceit Strength The-habsburg Response The-confidence
Example-to Foremost Gained-against Pyramid-all Significant Suppose Providence To-prove The-October
A-convincing And-colonies’

‘Nonsense. These are no more relevant to life of Fuhrer than those others to life of Horowitz. Nothing significant there. The Habsburg indeed. Why not The Habsburg-Lorraine?’

‘You are right no doubt.’

‘Is that all?’

‘Chapter one of Mein Kampf”

‘Words giving 666?’

‘DEUTSCHLAND THE-HABSBURG EVEN-VIENNA SPEECHLESS US-FORGET...’

‘Junk. Nothing new there.’

‘Adolf Hitler adds to 660’

‘Anything relevant besides that adds to 660?’

‘660 yes, Adolf Hitler, Rockefeller, George Busch, Ronald Reagan, the Forbidden, Loyalty, the Germans

‘Busch with sch? Why not Bosch then?’

‘The house is vassal of Nassau. In Holland it is Busch. Like the beer tycoon of Pennsylvania. Written as is, George Bush gives 642…’

‘Like what else?’

‘GEORGEBUSH TEUTONIC THURINGIA GEORGEMERCK WESTNILE’

‘Horowitz cannot possibly know that Merck company made the West Nile Virus.’

‘He claims so in his books. KOBLENZ BIOLOGICAL PHARMACY have the same value: 510’

‘We don’t make such staff in Koblenz. That is where House Rockefeller is registered vassal. Hesse would not sell the asset to Coburg. Lots of haggling between the dukes.’

‘BELGIUM LEONARD MEXICO WHORE give 414’

‘What is special about 414’

‘Nothing. I mean they group together in having the same value.’

‘Leonard does not belong. Child of Charlotte Coburg of Belgium, Empress of all Mexicos, was Maxime Weygand. Supreme commander of France against us in both world wars, ha ha. You think he was babtized Leonard? Now, that would be something.’

‘If you are sure of Charlotte… I must concede that if Charlotte produced no Leonard, we got nothing to fear from this code. But there is no knowing the extend of creative motherhood Coburg brides are capable of. Like creative accounting, you know.’

‘Bible code indeed! Das ich nicht lache. Why not George Herbert Walker Bush? Let him forge a code that fits that in! ROTSHIELD and SADAMHUSAIN would give 660 same as Adolf Hitler if you take liberties with spelling. Come to think of it, spell SAADAMHUSAIN with doubled A and there is another devil for you; 666 exact. Robert Shea is 666 too. Coauthor of the Illuminatus book of 1975.’

‘George Herbert Walker gives ten times 666.’

‘What! 6660? Like mark of the tenth beast?’

‘Laurence Rockefeller and World Trade Center give the same.’

‘You are not making fun of me?’

‘Check them out.’

‘I’ll take your word, prince. Just one Rockefeller. Ill luck for Hesse.’

‘Then there is Mark of Beast without the article.’

‘No! it is this silly English language with articles and plurals and things that allow such manipulations.’

‘Then there is Zeichen-Bose.’

‘Oh no, wait a minute. You cannot pull and push the German language like he can do to the English. Mark of the Beast in German is either Zeichen-des-Boses or it is nothing. Zeichen-Bose indeed! Mark-Evil! That is no translation for Mark of the Beast, is it?

‘You are right no doubt. Here are some more 666: German Busch, Necromancy, Mason Hiram…’

‘I tell you again, the name is Bush, not Busch!’

‘It writes Busch in German though.’

‘Not if you don’t write. Don’t!’

‘Poland is 372.’

‘Grouping with what else?’

‘Cardinal and IG-Farben.’

‘I see what you mean. The Pope and the Concentration Camp. Too far fetched. What else?’

‘Wackenhut is 636. Grouping with Dachau-Munich, Sarayevo, Brandenburg.’

‘Means nothing. Wackenhut von Wurttemburg is guard not only over American prison facilities. Wackenhut also guards all nuclear assets of America. For the day! Wackenhut also guards US buildings in all other countries. Wackenhut is present on site when fanatical Hindus burn Moslem trains.’

‘The other way around.’

‘Hindus and Muslims are on site when Wackenhaut burns fanatical trains. Correct.’

‘Close enough. That was my baby, you know.’

‘I thought Hesse claimed India. The last vice-king of India 1947 being Hesse-Battenberg, the unemployed supreme commander of allies.’

‘True, but claim of Coburg is stronger. From 1847 to 1947 always a Coburg was king of India.’

‘Hanover dropped all claims to India?’

‘Yes. Their claim drives from Victoria of London, Queen of India 1837-1901.’

‘It is a valid claim, Queen of Britain was Victoria Hanover.’

‘At marriage she became Victoria Coburg and passed the rights to India to her little Albert Coburg. Did you know that Albert was born three months after Victoria?’

‘Of course. And the same midwife attended both births.’

‘She must have traveled from London as soon as Victoria was born, to prepare for the coming of Albert in Germany.’

‘Oh yes. Mother of Victoria was a Coburg. Best organizers in the world, Coburgs.’

‘Antichrist adds to 726.’

‘Any other word adds to the samething.’

‘Charles Edward, Ingolstadt, South Africa... each adds to the same 726.’

‘Grandfather of the present Duke?’

‘He was Charles Edward, prince of Great Britain and Ireland’

‘Until 1900. Then he came over and became Karl Eduard, hereditary duke of Saxe-Coburg-Gotha.’

‘I know that.’

‘General of two world wars on this side of the Rhine.’

‘Like Weygand-Coburg on the other side of the Rhine. I know that too.’

‘Without that prince of Great Britain and Ireland, Hitler could neither start in 1920s nor get majority vote in 1933. The Duke merged eight percent vote of his aristocratic party to the 44 percent of Nazis.’

‘I know that. Then in 1936 he was sent over in Nazi General uniform, to negotiate with his cousin George VI, about which German prince should be the supreme commander of allies in the coming war.’

‘They agreed on a Hessian commander.’

‘Well, Hesse insisted on it. Too many Coburgs are kings over the gentiles, Hesse said, feeling encircled. Because Command of French forces was to be Coburg and then Belgium was Coburg, as it still is. And the Fuhrer being a candidate of Coburg, Hesse really feared a Coburg takeover after the world war. Insisted on guarantees in form of a Hessian supreme commander for allied forces.’

‘The only objections was, America might react to a Hessian supreme commander and fight it out on its own.’

‘Roosevelt and Truman would never make such fuss.’

‘But they might die any time. You cannot bet fate of the Reich on two fragile German-Americans.’

‘Perfect war game that was. Played out Between Hesse and Coburg.’

‘Each side was a coalition of the two. Zero sum game. Too big a fanfare just to break Japan.’

‘And Slavs and Latins.’

‘They did not break, did they?’

‘They bled! It helps for the next time.’

‘Ah, Der Tag!’

‚Ah! Der Tag!’

‚Ah! Der Tag!’

‘I found another word that adds to 666’

‘What is it?’

‘Illuminat’

‘Nonsense! The word is Illuminati.’

‘If you say so, Prince Schwarzberg-Sonderhausen.’

‘I say so, prince Schwarzberg-Rudolstadt.’

‘We were united once, you know.’

‘I know, Back in 1907. The year of scandals exposed by Maximillian Hardin, the Jewish  publishers in Vienna. You think this Horowitz may cause as much trouble for us?’

‘May be. If he does, our response must be as then.’

‘Nothing less than…’

‘A world war. Any mediatised minor prince can see that.’

‘Any one of the three million minor German princes running around right now as errand boys for the three hundred dukes...’

‘And for the eleven electors; but still, unworthily employed since 1945.’

‘Great times are ahead then. Chirio…’

‘Behave yourself, prince.’

‘So be it. Sieg heil!’

‚One more thing, prince, before you go.’

‘What now?’

‘Wesley Clark!’

‘What of the dark horse?’

‘Code 804!’

‘Same as Horowitz?’

‘Yes. 804: Horowitz, Unprecedented, breakthrough, Wesley Clark.’

‘I will inform Hoheit. You always leave the most important to the last, Prince.’

‘Edgar Allan Poe!’

‘His quotation?’

‘Edgar Allan Poe makes 666.’

‘The Cask of Amontillado! I love that story. Poe was originally Pfalz.’

‘And stupid Mencken ought not reveal this.’

‘I will inform Hoheit.’

‘Sieg heil!’



	Handbook of Usurpations for Dummies


The Albino was in his private rooms inspecting a huge world map on the wall. The title said:

‘Conquests of Saxony’

Next to it, there was a huge chart. Its title said:

‘Genealogies of Saxony’

He examined areas of the map and boxes of the chart, with the two long fingers of two hands on them. Many boxes on the chart were still empty. His forelimbs were very long and he demonstrated dexterity in this kind of activity like a spectacled ape. Then he went to the table and opened a photo album full of printout cuttings. He picked a printout, walked to the chart, removed the protective layer and attached the self-adhesive paper to the chart. It fitted precisely into an empty box there.

Our camera zoomed on the box and we could read:

‘1696 August the Strong, Duke of Saxony becomes king of Poland. This promotes Saxony to the level of Nassau, which has conquered Britain eight years before, and Habsburg, which has Spain since 1516.’

He then went to a box full of small flags on pins, picked one and stabbed it into the heart of Poland. Then he went to the shelf and picked a huge but thin and bounded volume that might contain the Times Atlas of the World or several copies of the British daily, News of the World. Except the title said:

‘Handbook of Usurpations for Dummies!’

The Albino carried his treasure with delicacy of an experienced mother with a baby and placed it on the table beside the photo album. He opened the cover and read the first page. 

‘Data Year One of the Holy Vehm refreshed and recognized rite on the new Red Earth. 
We, The Illuminated Electors of the one and only Reich which was before Abraham, and which Reich will still be after the second coming, leave a record of our enlightened operations for the benefit of our progeny. May the sun never set on totality of our usurpations! Horus guide forever and bless our seed on this planet. We brought light where darkness was and darkness where light was. We penetrate, infiltrate, destabilize, possess and restabilize on the higher illuminated level what is before us a wretched thing that crawls on earth on hind limbs. 

‘By the time honored ancient wisdom accumulated on the First River do we proceed on the Last River. Before us was the Flood and after us is nothing; then we are the Fire. 

‘It is a law of the elements of this planet that there is nothing for nothing. Therefore start with giving a bride along the long road of getting a kingdom. This was the first wisdom our ancestors discovered in isolation of an island in the middle sea. The Illuminated intelligence of the crystal came to multiply using the vessels of this planet in diverse shapes. The vessel they call dog failed to reproduce progeny of illuminated character because the light was too much for this vessel and it died from the awe of it. 

The vessel they call bird succeeded to survive the illumination and produce issue illuminated at birth. Birds however are republicans of this planet and therefore each nest has to be illuminated anew in each generation. The bird illuminated at birth we call Phoenix. Natives call it cuckoo and worship it not, lacking understanding for higher forms of existence. The nearest word in their language for the winged vessel of pure reason is parasite, which they use, in derogatory sense, for some confounded reason.

‘The vessel they call bee succeeded to survive the illumination and produce issue illuminated at birth. Bees are tribes of the planet and each tribe of large numbers need be penetrated once. Except they start afresh every turn of the planet and the penetration of new clans must be performed a new, the illumination going not with swarms that emanate from a hive. They call the Illuminated bee with derogatory name of the whisperer, Psythirus the parasite.

‘Dogs do their best to spread the Illuminated Crystal but they do it the wrong way, chasing and biting, instead of producing an already illuminated pup and swapping it with pup of another still in darkness, still lacking illumination.

‘Horses and cats resist fanatically to spread the word. Instead, when urged to bite and multiply the light, unable to resist the holy command, they bite stones with fanatical force until they perish without providing the least service to the illuminated crystal. Khylisti is the native Slav word for them that destroy themselves lest they illuminate another.

‘Not all illuminated natives become self-destroying Khilisti however. Had this been the case, we would have no choice but pack and take off to another planet. Efficiency of the process of illumination is measured by the ratio of Khylisti, which are complete loss to our seed, to those who in three or more generations stabilize and become one with us.’

‘From Wisdom acquired in three thousand years on the banks of the Old River, we know that all first generation males born with illumination to native mothers destabilize. Where these elements, find themselves in minority, they become Khylisti. Where they are a majority of two-limbs, they destroy all the illuminated ones before they themselves perish. Therefore, you shall not suffer the males of first borns of your seed from native mothers. But the girls you are to seclude in convents under Archbishops of the Nomes as on the banks of the Old River. In the second generation, only half of the boys born to the secluded nuns are likely to stabilize as the Illuminated ones. They become us. The other half you shall not suffer to live but drawn in the red river. By the seventh generation, all males are Illuminated but they are also sterile, having lost the capacity of reproduction that the native vessel had. So we must recreate from the ashes anew. This is the cycle of the Phoenix, the fire bird, the two headed eagle representing the unity of two kingdoms, upper river and lower river; representing the two essences native scientists not yet illuminated have only recently discovered and called rabid Y and fragile X.’

Item - the native science of taxonomy on the planet and how to evade it.
Updated Theology and heresies - of crystalline virus from interstellar space and heretic view that it originated on this planet from swine genome.
Rabies before Pasteur or the Russia described by Nobel prised native fools



	Chapter 5- SOVEREIGN ORDER OF MALTA


	Dr. Kraft-Ebbing arrives with bad tidings


The Albino interrupted reading and went to the window. A gigantic black helicopter was approaching the castle of Gotha.

‘Ach so, the Grand Master.’ Said the Albino, replaced the Atlas and the Album and rushed to the landing pad that was an earthen circle in midst of grazing lands surrounding the Gothic castle. Stray cattle watched the landing craft with a gravity like they knew the weight of  secrets they kept generation after generation.

No sooner had the craft touched the ground and it took off again, living behind something dark but obviously not to mysterious for the cattle since they resumed grasing; probably they had seen it all many times before.

The occult figure of a humanoid trotted with sure steps towards the castle, ignoring and bypassing the Albino who was obviously there to receive him. The doctor continued thus in contempt of the prince right into the castle and down the winding stairs to the machine room that was antechamber to the lair of the enigmatic duke. The albino followed submissively behind until they came to the secret gate. Only then did the doctor stand aside and allowed the usher, the officiala doorkeeper, to do his antics.

The gate slid open and the duke himself appeared in full length.

‘Baron Freiherr von Kraft-Ebing.’

‚Hoheit.’

‚General of the Sovereign Order of Malta, Prince of the Reich, member of the Holy Vehmic Diet…welcome.’

‘Illustrious grandson of Karl Eduard, Prince of Great Britain and All Irelands and all Indias. Duke of Albany. Prince of the occult. Source of inspiration to all the invisible orders. Beacon of guidance to his reigning vassals in London, Brussels and Sofia. Highest court of appeal for disputes among his vassals adorned with foreign crowns. Hope of his vassals deprived of their birth right to the thrones of Portugal, Brazil, Poland, Mexico, each of which was once ruled by an illuminated Coburg… Keeper of accounts and guarant of just vengeance for all of his vassals deposed by ungrateful natives.’

The duke listened to all his titles seriously, keeping count on his fingers. Then, as if in the name of modesty, he objected to one title among many.

‘Duke of Albany no more, alas. Our cousin George V withdrew that little honor from our house.’

The doctor objected vehemently.

‘That singular British act of 1919 has no validity according to Reich depositions of centuries precedence. A vassal cannot decide on titles of his lord. Besides, it was a political act to calm the rebellious Scots who would otherwise revenge their losses in the war against German Kaiser on German House ruling Britain. George V asked for and received permission of your grandfather, his cousin Karl Eduard, before enacting the farce. Besides, the Dukedom is neither abolished nor granted to another. It is merely suspended until such time you openly reclaim it which may very easily happen after the United States is broken into three thousand counties to invite your vassals as their counts. None other but your heirs have the right to reclaim the dukedom of Albany in Yorkshire according to the Titles deprivation act of 1917.’

Duke and Doctor walked to the study, ignoring the Albino prince at the gate. I would hate to see him go away right now and thus unwittingly lead our camera elsewhere from the two Dibbuks; but the Albino prince did walk behind them submissively. The exalted creatures of darkness took places in the illuminated isle. The Albino prince stood in the twilight zone between light and darkness. 

‘Hoheit, you are in good form.’ Said the doctor, scanning with expert eyes the animal components of his host: elongated limbs, cantilever ears, prominent chin and a long head like a plumb on a stick.

The duke, in his turn, examined the fellow predator, assumed an oratorical posture and said:

‚It is unnecessary for me to tell you how much all your countrymen, and I speak of the great mass of the people, are interested in your welfare.   They have not forgotten the history of their own revolution, and the difficult scenes through which they passed; nor do they review its several stages without reviving in their bosoms a due sensibility of the merits of those who served them in that great and arduous conflict…’

The doctor looked as if he recognized the lines and turned his eyes to the study for the source. He spotted a thick file there, turned to the duke askance and receiving an arrested node, picked the document. On the cover of the old and much thumbed file, in big clumsy letters stood:

‘Akte James Monroe, 1794.’

The doctor weighed the ancient police file on his two paws, put it on his knees, and opened it where a marker had been pasted on to a page. He looked up and down the page and finding the lines he expected to find there, he read…

‘…The crime of ingratitude has not yet stained, and I trust never will stain, our national character. To the welfare of Thomas Paine the Americans are not and cannot be indifferent.’

‘I have been refreshing memory. Curse them both! Paine and Monroe...’ said the duke.

‘Coburg, we have a problem.’ Said the doctor.

‘What is it, Baron? Is it greedy Hesse again?’

‘Greedy Hesse is soothed for now. Sovereign Order of Malta is not without influence in the court of Hesse. The little crisis after Coburg recovered Bulgaria has been resolved. Hesse agrees to not hurry the recovery of Greece in retaliation. Hesse agrees that Latin Force de Frappe has to be dismantled before any birthright crowns can be reclaimed from the Slav Moloch.’

‘If it is not my troublesome cousin of Hesse, what can possibly be a problem for your sovereign order that requires my intervention?’

‘It is something unusual that happened today. Two special teams destabilized.’

‘Where?’

‘First in Hesse, and then repeated here in Erfurt.’

‘I knew it! Hesse is testing new chemicals.’

‘We found nothing in autopsy.’

‘You have to search more. You have to mince every tissue with naked hands. I could help you in this.’

‘I assure you, there are no unusual chemicals involved. Just the usual scrofula.’

‘You have to mince the brain. With naked hands.’

‘Every slice was put through electro microscope. Nothing unusual.’

‘Hesse can have his agents in our labs. What about that Doctor Sassoni?’

‘He is no more. He died of SARS I after replicating the protein in Lubeck.’

‘I should never agree to that as a joint project of Hesse and Coburg. All the expense for nothing. Besides, the target is alerted now.’

‘I don’t think they are alerted at all. They cannot be, since they allowed an expert from Nassau to cooperate on their electromicroscope in Hong Kong.’

‘How many top microbiologists are left out there?’

The doctor counted on the fingers of both hands.

‘Lets see… After David Kelley of Scots, there is just one of each left.’

‘One Latin and one Slav still alive?’

‘Jawohl, and one in China, one in India, one in Japan.’

‘Nuisance. They breed like rats, native microbiologists...’

‘And study like fanatics.’

‘Why can’t they be diverted to arts and music?’

‘Beethoven and Wagner divert a million stupid Japanese but fail to work on the Chinese and Indians.’

‘It is because my incompetent cousin of Bavaria leaked out the racist essays of Wagner.’

‘He had a reason for it, Hoheit.’

‘Sovereign order of Malta advised him to it, right?’

‘True. And it did more good than harm. It diverted the conspiracy chasers from our tracks to those of a tiny folk, which are infiltrated by us to the healthy proportion of fifty percent. The leak was applied selectively so that no Japanese music lover was touched by it.’

‘Too fine calculations are never reliable, baron.’

‘Now to those two destabilized teams.’

‘Are they ours?’

‘No, they operated for Ingolstadt. Extraterritorial and Extrajudicial.’

‘Illuminati of my cousin, the duke of Bavaria.’

‘The king of…’

‘Made king by the Grace of Napoleon…’

‘Like dukes of Wurttemberg and Saxony.’

‘So be it, Baron. My cousin King Elector of Bavaria has sent teams to Hesse and Coburg and they destabilize. Is that the short of your problem?’

‘On the same day and we cannot find the cause.’

‘Are we sure that the cases are limited to those two?’

‘So far yes, but others may follow in other duchies.’

‘A coordinated attack against all of the stem duchies? There is no power on this planet capable of attacking all the stem duchies simultaneously. Not even Napoleon did that. At any time this or that duchy could be made his ally. Of four German Kaisers, two we placed on his side and two against him before he marched against the German Czar of Russia. Even when we started the all out war for final world conquest in 1939, we had placed no less then three Coburg kings on the side of the allies against us.’

‘It is true that even in peacetime, and even in the fantastic fiction of the native nations, there is no such perception or hint or insinuation. Still, you can never know. There is a first to every thing.’

‘I suspect one of our cousins is playing games on us. You say the teams operated from Ingolstadt, Bavaria.’

‘If Hoheit would arrange a meeting between Hesse and Bavaria, through the proper channels and in accordance with established protocols, and get their points and suggestions, our sovereign order would do the investigation.’

‘Sure, baron. I can endure a headache or two for your sake, for contacting my cousin of Bavaria is never a smooth thing.’

Then the duke turned to the Albino who had been standing in the dark border of the illuminated isle. The doctor followed his gaze. The Albino took one step into the illumination and waited. The doctor talked to the Albino as if he recognized the errand boy for the first time since the helicopter pad.

‘Prince Sonderburg-Schwarzhaus!’

‚Baron!’

Then the Albino looked at the duke like awaiting orders. The duke nodded.

‘We want to meet our cousin of Bavaria. At his place.’

The Albino made a military salute, turned on the left heel and left the cave. Fortunately this time our camera did not follow him but stayed in the cave. I looked at the monks wondering if they could deploy a second camera to watch the communication between Gotha and Bavaria. All the six monks however were focused on the monitor. They expected more revelations from the crafty Grand Master of the Sovereign Order of Malta.


	Vaccination


Conquests by Epidemics - From Smallpox to HIV

‘Something else worrying you’ said the doctor while examining the ancient relic of a face of the duke.

‘A bit annoying, really’ said the duke looking towards the printouts still on the table.

‘Ah, that! No problem from Dr. Horowitz, I assure you. No Bible Code ever scared me but Louis XX.’

‘He pokes fingers at epidemics and vaccinations. That could be dangerous even without a Bible code.’

‘Not if he pushed the cart the way we wished it should move.’

‘He opposes vaccination.’

‘Like that Irish rebel of nineteenth century whom we allowed to live a hundred years.’

‘We don’t want effective vaccination of course. It was our Holy Vehm that wiped off the Phoenician know-how of inoculation from the British Isles.’

‘Exactly. All who oppose vaccination without focusing on vaccinators serve our grand design. I hate the day when our targets of Britain rediscovered the prevention against smallpox.’

‘I know the story well. It was Lady Montague in the Levant.’

‘Wife of British Ambassador, 1721...’

‘Whose name we obliterated from school books…’

‘As punishment for letting things leak from the east.’

‘Irish Bernard Shaw was a step ahead of Hebrew Horowitz, you know.’

‘Shaw suspected the doctors more than the methods.’

‘Whereas Horowitz doubts the methods more than the doctors.’

‘Let him help shake confidence in all the Vaccines there are for as long as he points not at the personnel.’

‘Oh, but he did point a finger at Bayer. He wrote an open letter to the FBI, declaring that Bayer only had a motive for the Anthrax scare that followed September 11.’

‘I know. The official who received the letter and filed it is a knight of our sovereign order.’

‘That is settled then as far as official action is concerned. But is there no other harm to expect from the letter being in Internet?’

‘Not if 73 microbiologists of the era before WTC, who might pursue the affair further, live no more.’

‘I’d rather prefer Internet was no more.’

‘We are working on it.’

‘That brings me to the Porno operation last week, managed by the police of your illuminated duchy.’

‘Ah, yes, they raided five thousand homes, cute nimble bastards.’

‘Exactly the mistake I was to mention.’

‘Raiding nests is the biggest pleasure. Why mistake?’

‘A few offices too had to be raided just to smooth out the statistics. Otherwise people may come to ideas that the police of Saxen-Anhalt is a bunch of perverts who thrive on intruding into private nests.’

‘Ach so! Well next time let them raid a few soft porno magazines too.’

‘No need to do anything so dull. Just report it in a normalized way as if it was done so. To the ink worshipping natives of the planet, report is everything. The act itself is nothing. Only the document is real. They will debate a document till the next Reich come, never doubting the truth of its purport. Funny notions of forgery they do have but no conception of the very original and first document being composed to suit them rather than to acts. Throw them one such paper, and they twitch into spasms, twirp in series of chirps, like a school of sparrows. ’

‘How true. Proved time and again. They cannot agree among themselves and they certainly have not the talent of our vassals for obeying orders.’

‘Nay, they even make fun of our corporate talent, our capital asset without which such enormous empires could never be confiscated and put under vassalage of my lowest vassals.’ 

The doctor reflected on this for some time. He thought and nodded in slow successions and counted invisible things on his alien fingernails. 

‘The blessed smallpox did us good. All four Kaisers made the best of it: Vienna, London, Berlin, and Petersburg. Before them, before Kaisers were cloned four, the one and only Kaiser did it from Madrid. Just a few years ahead of each Teutonic conquest always marched the general smallpox.  Natives are too stupid to see a connection on global scale.’

‘First, there is the pox, and it has been bountiful to us. Rich harvest. Time, place and target precisely determinable to suit our usurpation columns in the wake of pestilence. We ride in on a pale horse to mend a broken people, to bind into eternal vassalage.’ 

‘Then there comes the vaccine, which makes the spread easier for us because the danger of being caught in transporting pox blood is no more. The cargo is officially vaccine now except our version of vaccine, ha ha. And what does the clever Bernard Shaw conclude from the results? That vaccine kills thousands in the Wales, Scotland, Ireland and even England.’

‘The trick is to have stool pigeons on all sides of every debate. Remove the best brains of the natives and leave a few second rates in the debate. Not that we could not provide ersatz even for them, but their distinctive blunders give an air of authenticity to the farce.’

‘Natives  like in the Democratc candidates in presidential race debate on CNN today: like Senator John Edwards, Africans Sharpton and Brown, Governor Howard Dean…’

‘How dull their performance, compared to our well groomed babies…’

‘Gephardt, Liebermann, Kerry…’

’Kerry-Heinz. Heinz meaning 600 million dollars of private fortune against miserly campaign money of the General.’

‘Wesley Clark, saver of Kosovo. That is the dark horse to cost us dearly.’

‘Don’t worry about him.’

‘You mean…’

‘Sovereign order of Malta has means unsuspected by any native in all the past ages.’

‘Well then, I am relieved. Because my best dressed babies, so good in debates, are doing poorly in the polls. Three quarter of America are natives of the planet and they have a stinking gut feeling for what their ink leakers call charisma.’

‘And your babies lack it. That is the theory. But never mind the ill defined charisma of the Irish, the Scots, the Welsh, the Negros, the Slav, the Latin, the Chinese…’

‘Fujimori has it but Gephardt and Dashle have it not! What a silly thing.’

‘It is a silly planet. It has the pestilence called life that it deserves.’

‘Whatever. His charisma could not save Fujimori from our Holy Inquisition.’

‘They call it media now.’

‘As long as we own it, as long as it is Teutonic in leadership lineage, I care not if they call a Jesuit catholic.’

‘No, but sooner and later the natives manage to synchronize that gut feeling they claim to have…’

‘They imagine it I doubt. Sort of metaphysical. Beyond the limits of physics, reality, existence. It is all in their dirty minds.’

‘Well when they manage to synchronize their metaphysics, then they suppress the Jesuits or the Templars or the Huguenots or the Khazars…’

‘And of course my babies thus exposed among the Latin or the Slav, panic and run back to the mother Rhine.’

‘Incidentally that was what made Franklin wise.’

‘In 1773 when the Jesuits were banished by all Latins?’

‘Yes. Until then, Jesuits, whose crimes he knew well, were poppists for him.’

‘Pope meant Rome which meant Latin which included Spain and France besides Italy and Portugal.’

‘That is why all those Kelts of Britain in Plantations of America, forgot the foe in London from which they had escaped to the plantations and all signed up as our soldiers against France along the Mississippi.’

‘That was a masterpiece. The key to the landed estate astretching over half the planet.’

‘And then, Latins woke up to Jesuits as an alien force among them and banished them all. 1773’

‘Upon which those Teutonic babies, instead of holding fest in their stations, panicked and ran to the Rhine from five continents. To the fanatically opposed Lutherans.’

‘This opened many a stupid Scottish eye to who is really who.’

‘Is that when Franklin woke up?’



	Chapter 6- POX GERMANA


	Europe is not enough for General Pox


‘I will come to that later. On natives among presidential candidates… 

‘That is where we need Bernard Shaw then and Horowitz now.’

‘Remember the cases of Smallpox around Joseph II, the Kaiser?’

‘One of four German Kaisers in his time but officially the one Kaiser of the one Reich.’

‘True. Joseph II in 1778 hearing that elector of Bavaria is deceased, raised a claim for the electorate.’

‘Elector of Bavaria, Maximilian, died of small pox.’

‘Elector’s sister was wife to Joseph II and had died some years before.’

‘Empress of the one Reich, Josepha von Bavaria, died of smallpox in Vienna.’

‘Joseph II had a sister which was to become queen of France: Mari Antoinette. She was given a castle made for Louis XV when that person died 1774; the year after he suppressed the Jesuits.’

‘Louis XV died of smallpox.’

‘Such are the reports.’

‘Maximilian was deep into pox Germana laboratories. He prepared pox contaminated objects for colonies of all four Kaisers German; London, Vienna, Berlin, Petersburg...’

‘That would make the cause of death as smallpox credible, but only the top three hundred of the Holy Vehm knew of his activity. Top princes of the Reich.’

‘But Joseph II did not intrigue here.’

‘Nevertheless, pox as cause of death for Josepha and few years later for Maximilian, both deaths very convenient to Kaiser Joseph, may have raised some suspicion of intrigue.’

‘Not really. Bourbons and Stuarts had been dying of the Pox and therefore, to avoid suspicion, a few German princes had to die of the same.’

‘Meaning, when they died, cause of their death would be decided according to statistics needed for some purpose.’

‘That reminds me of the thirty thousand Hessians sent against the rebellious plantations in America.’

‘Oh, yes, all Hessians were inoculated.’

‘Exactly. But native subjects of the House of Hanover, king to Britain, were not to be inoculated. None in Canada. No native of Britain was to inoculate himself or another; It was made punishable by death.’

‘That is why troops from Canada could not be used against the rebellion in New England.’

‘But surely someone must have noticed that Hessians were immune. Since so many of them were taken prisoners, surely it would be easy to make them talk.’

‘Yeah but the stupid Irish and Scottish rebels of America did not think of the pertinent questions to put to the captive Hessians.’

‘And then, Ben Franklin endorsed inoculation of Americans against the Pox.’

‘That was a dangerous man. What brought him to the idea? How could he know that Hessians were inoculated but Britons were not?’

‘Like the best of native elite, he served us for a long time before he started a rebellion.’

‘In the seven years war, yes. Both Franklin and Washington served us well.’

‘It must be then that he noticed how we used the Pox against native Americans.’

‘He never objected?’

‘He raised hell every time he saw a poxed Indian village.’

‘And yet he stayed with us seven long years and served us to victory over France in Canada and all along the Mississipi? The man practically got the Ohio valley from France and gave it to the German king in London.’

‘Exactly. Every time Franklin went into fits of lamentations over a native village poxed to extinction; the dead lying around and none to bury them; we procured posthaste a Jesuit who confessed to having done the vile deed in service of France.’

 ‘Of course religion was paramount in the native brain of Franklin, like in all natives, and therefore he could never associate the Catholic Jesuit black robe with London King George III of the Lutheran House of Hanover. Oh yes, we provided opportunity for Franklin to see crimes of Catholic Jesuits in service of France. Franklin saw them with his own eyes and heard the confessions with his own ears. Such evidence is sacred to stupid natives.’

‘What woke him up? Why did he desert the House of Hanover after victory over France and liquidation of this Latin power from America for all times?’

‘Hoheit knows it well. It is nevertheless a pleasure to recount the story for the illuminated listener.’

‘I thank you, doctor, but another time. Right now, I was about to have an update from my Geheim Rat on our glorious pox conquests, the main key of colonization after a thousand years in chains, so to say, in the jargon of that Hebrew wizard. Would you accompany me to the settings appropriate to general Pox Germana?'

'With greatest pleasure, my illuminated duke.'

They walked through the cave into underground tunnels and eventually ended up in another cave which at first sight was very much similar the one they had just left behind.


	Suppression of Jesuits


‘Now it so happened that we got Portugal somehow on our side in the Seven Years War…’

‘Against Spain and France.’

‘Against Latins and Slavs. It so happened that at some point, some land in the middle of Latin America had to be exchanged between Spain and Portugal according to some peace terms we had designed.’

‘Then King Jose of Portugal or rather his fanatic Latin captains, discovered the secret book of Jesuits in a hut on very top of those mountains.’

‘That was during the world war of  1757-63.’

‘In the middle of the war. 1759 actually.’

‘And those protocols of Jesuits were not yet creatively given the title of the Wise men of Zion.’

‘No, they were plain protocols of Jesuits, in title and content visible to any who could see them.’

‘But no outsider saw a copy for a long time.’

‘From 1559 when they were first compiled in that form in the Jesuit college of Ingolstadt to 1759, none saw them except German Jesuits.’

‘That is many generations of the natives.’

‘It is not that none saw a copy. Every Jesuit of inner circle, and every one of those had to be a German, a graduate of the German college in Rome, carried one inside his robe and those holy padres, efficient precursers of the yet very clumsy CIA, were on all continents in all valleys. Sure now and then an outsider, even a recruit to the order who nevertheless would never rise to the inner circle being native Latin,  occasionally saw the copy by accident. Jesuits, like all Teutoniacs, were and are fond of beer and pork in excessive quantities.’

'Which reminds me. There is beer and pork to feast on after our discourse.'

‘But none who saw the secret book of Jesuits could see the light of day again. None could carry the news to the few native kings of Latins or Slavs, Kelts or Vikings. Of course by the time the book was prepared in Ingolstadt, all Vikings had been made vassals to our lowest vassals, lords of swine manors from Oldenburg or Holstein. But the other three races of Europe were free yet, enjoying an idle existence. Imagine a Tudor or Stuart king coming into possession of such a book. At once he would recognize the abyss between the Jesuit and the Latin character.’

‘He would then of course recognize the mental kinship of Jesuits to Teutons.’

‘Naturally a Henry VIII or a James I would immediately start a thorough inquiry into the heart of the matter, which those native kings always mean to be genealogies of the persons involved, and all the way from Pope Adrian von Utrecht to the last Jesuit general would be exposed as blood Germans planted among Latins for fresh usurpations and to maintain the already usurped crowns.’

‘Fortunately, Portugal was no Scotland and King Jose was no James I Stuart to whom we owe the biggest threat to real freedoms - the King James Bible. It will take another Reich or two until we eradicate the last copy of any book that mentions Louis XX.’

‘Never despair. We have done it before. Natives forget things but we don’t and that is the key to our patient victories.’

‘One of the keys only, for to civilize such a chaotic planet takes many keys before many more native kings are wasted.’

	***From Jose of Portugal to Carlos of Spain (Leave to Book 5 - Paraguay)




	Innoculate and conquer 


Inoculate yourself and pox the world
From 1716-1721 Lady Montagu to 1978 when a scourge more potent than the pox was made by doctors of the Reich and agreed on by all the electors to replace the pox. It was to be called HI-Virus: a handshake gift of the master race to all natives of the planet...


	Coburg and his General Pox


The Montagu leak

On nearer look, this cave had some differences. The morbid Duke of Coburg revived like a creature of the netherworld. He was nearer his elements in this cave. The place was full of chests and boxes of metal and wood. A creature of  genus Nosferatu stalked in the dark from chest to chest until he noticed the silent duke and the stalking doctor. Only then did the duke who had been watching with affection address the beast of his bosom.

‘I can see that my archive is in good hands. Do you have all that you may need?’

‘I have, hoheit.’ Said the Nosferatu, pointing at a pile of bones behind a row of chests. 

It was a mixed pile adorned with skulls of humans and of what might be swine, placed on a circle around it. The duke did not look at the pile but walked to a chest that might be a coffin placed upright. He opened it. There were shelves inside and they were filled with human skulls.

The doctor had withdrawn to a recess and looked like he would simply enjoy a performance seen many times before. This was the duke's own show, his work of art, his own Gothic performance.

‘Bone nuit, Monsieur.’ Said the duke to the topmost skull under which stood a label: Napoleon III

The long Monseratu stood there with elongated hands reaching down his knees and watched his even longer duke with admiration. He must have been used to performing for audience because he took the presence of inoccous doctor in the recess for granted, never disturbing him with looks. Probably he was instructed to not recognize the many high personalities, royals and all, who may have been to this cave of Gothic treasures. Probably the prerformance had tradition over generations, since the first ancestors of this duke descended into this area from whatever hell it was they broke out of in the mist of hte time. Scenes from movie 'the Thirteenth Warrior' flashed into my mind; subterranean caves along the rhine, bursting with cannibals and filled with piles and piles of skulls over generations. Antonia Banderas, a Latin hero, among blond cannibals of the Rhinish north. Time? About the end of Khazars in 971 AD. I suppose.

The duke traced the many labels on each shelf from top to bottom. He read the names with much gusto.

‘Benito Juarez, Abraham Lincoln, Bompal, Carlos III… Where are the ladies?’

Judging by the agility with which the duke moved around in the cave, It was impossible for him not to know where every part of the collection was; nor was it conceivable that the relics of necrophilia were often replaced by the subservient Nosferatu at his own cognizance. Most probably, the duke and the Nosferatu playacted for the performace; Gothic art for its own sake. Questions and answers must have evolved over generations to maximise the pleasure derived by thsese necrophiliacs at close proximity with morbid remains, and in this case, remains of their enemies of old; combining pure necrophiliac pleasures with those of revenge for their royal lineage, for their race, species, or whatever these aliens might be. 

For, aliens they were, with or without UFOs, with or without landing fiction of Roswell, New Mexico. This bunch was the nearest thing on the planet to what the collective mind of science fiction authors and fans perceived as evil aliens, kidnapping aliens, meddling and poking and surgery performing aliens, black helicopter aliens. Come to think of it, they were also Mercedes and BMW driving aliens. Considering that all psychologists of America drive BMW, it should be no wonder that their terrified victims had to invent the notion of UFOs, fearing deep down to call attention to the importance of all that bunch driving non-American cars while at the same time hating everything Japanese and agitating against it. I mean the medical profession including the psychiatrists and plastic surgeons. 

Scenes from the movie, Devil's advocate, flash into my mind. keanu Reeves, kid born to unwed mother in deep south, become lawyer, is mysteriously supported in his career, by his unknown father, played appropriately by Herr Hoffman? No, it was Al Pacino but I bet the movie would have become a cult film if the role of the devil was played by a Hoffmann or Rosenkranz or some such false Hebrew. I mean a pork eating pseudo-Hebrew which mas to be a crypto-German with a name like that even after the lessons of Holocaust. people have changed their unfortunate names for more trivial reasons: no genuine Hebrew ought to keep a German name after 1945. That is what I would do in their place: drop the name and throw away every relic of the language of the Master race. And most certainly, abstain from pork if not for the sake of the Bible, the Old Testament, than at least because the Master Race could not live without pork and beer.



The archivist walked to another coffin further away and opened it.

‘We do not keep them together lest they have pleasure in company.’

The duke gave out from himself a cascade of noises which must be the alien simulation of human laughter. He did not do so while walking to the coffin but stood arrested in his place without the slightest movement until the simulation came to an end. Obviouls all the processing capacity was needed for it, leaving none for navigation while laughing. Then the duke went over to the female collection and traced the label with the same long fingers. He read the names:

‘Madame Farnesse, Elisabeth Romanov… Where is Lady Mary Worthley Montague?’

‘In the Celtic collection of course,’ said the archivist with pride in his métier. He walked to yet another upright coffin, opened it and invited his duke to its enjoyment with an experienced flourish of the long hand.

‘Ah, there is the lady who would almost defeat our general Pox and thus rob us of our hard won colonies among the Native Latins, Native Slavs, Native Britons and of course the Native Americans of both North and South. At the time, all Americas were still in Native hands, there being only tiny plantations on the Atlantic coast. The Bulk of America being west of the Missisipi, and this river being in the hands of the Latins, natives between it and the Pacific had not tasted our violence yet. Those were critical times. One tiny accident, like a Frenchman telling the Natives that all they really needed was to mix sulfur with charcoal, both materials abundently available on the surface of America, and that would be curtains for the master race; the end of colonial era there and then in 1700. At the time, neither India nor China had been infiltrated. It would have been curtains for the German race and of its mission to civilize the planet. Another thousand years of confinement to the Rhine delta would surely fallow. It was a narrow escape and the danger was omnipresent until France was eradicated from the Mississipi and from the Canada.'

He took the skull and went to a heavy old wooden table on which were many carafes filled with liquids of diverse colors. He picked one and read the label on it.

‘Drained from Napoleon III during treatment and autopsy. 1874 England.’

I could not make sense of the label at all. A French Emperor dies, of all places in Britain, and his body is dissected as if autopsies were routine in those times? Strange, strange, but by now I knew these aliens well enough to doubt their meticolousness in labeling things. Perverse they were of course, but method they had in excess of what we, the natives of this planet would call normal.

He pasted a drop of the red and coagulated liquid from the carafe onto the skull and sat down at one of the heavy stools around the table. He tasted the tiny trop sparingly with his tongue and placed the skull on a pedestal on the table. The support with three feet must have been for this exclusive purpose because the skull rested on it in a very stable manner. 

Scenes from the TV serial 'V' the Aliens came to my mind. The shape shifter aliens who appeared more or less like elongated human beings, when among themselves, reverted to their own table manners for relaxation from the strain of simulating; live rats in cages after cages in the mother ship taken out and swallowed live after tasting with vibrating split snake tongues. 

It occured to me that a simulating species would have to overemphasize things the natives naturally do. I recalled a memoir of Baron von Moltke, the German Chief of Army who defeated France in 1870 and took Napoleon III prisoner.  Sedan, was it? I know it is the war described by Zola in the Debacle. It is described by Victor Hugo in his memoirs too: population of besieged Paris is reduced to eating rats. But I knew not that Napoleon III somehow ended in British exile after being a prisoner of Germans and then was autopsied when he died. I would like to see biographies of the surgeons who did this abominable thing, nothwithstanding the arguments they must have produced at the time to justify the vengeful necrophilia. I bet none of those supposedly British doctors was a Scotsman. Neither would they be Irish or Welsh. As for English, we do not really know if any of that race be still extant after three centuries of German rule in London: Jus Primae Noctis, royal balls, quartering acts, recruitment for fronts beyond the horizons, transportations for seven years from which none ever returned... 

Imagine, even Camilla with whom prince Charles was involved, turns out to be an illegitimate grandchild of Edward VII Coburg. I had read this on some genealogy site without making sense out of it because at the time I knew not what a Coburg was.

This General Moltke has been in the east fourty years before he became terror of France. He has accompanied an army of the United States of Asia in about 1840. The Prussian captain, as he is at the time, has written about his years in Mesopotamia in great detail. naturally lack of discipline in armies of all nations is the pet subject of every Prussian abomination. Then come table manners. For village after village by the road where the army unit passes through, the Prussian creature makes a point of emphasizing the missing of forks on the table. He never tires of looking for forks and documenting the absence of these tools in every village. Here is an overemphasis that must come from an inferiority complex. I would not be surprised if some honest archeologist like Gordon Childe of Australia documented that of all peoples on this planet, the ones to become acquinted with spoons and table clothes, were the people of Baron von Moltke; just like the alphabet. I bet at moments of over excitement the alien perfectly trained in table manners of the natives he impersonates, would fall back to its natural habits like snatching food directly with the mouth; not even remembering to use the front limbs. Nothing else could explain so much of emphasis on differences in table manners of other peoples. The alien is scared to death that he will be found out as an imitator in whose territory archeologists cannot find even a wooden spoon before the Roman era when Latins will have brought with them African utensils including Phoenician table clothes from Tunis and purple textiles made in Lebanon.


Then the duke waved at his archivist still standing beside the coffin for skulls of Keltic females to which he seemed to have a special attachment. Upon this signal the Nosferatu hurried to his master, bent slightly so that his hands grazed small mounds on the cave floor. He sat on one of those heavy stools, facing his master.

‘How fares your memory? Tell me about Lady Montagu. How could it happen? The leak from the Levant? Knowledge of Inoculation.’

‘An indiscretion of your cousin Hanover, hoheit.’

‘I doubt that very much. Hanover is the most paranoid of the coven, eleven electors. I think the mistake is Hessian.’

‘Hanover got England in 1714 and appointed the native Briton Montagu as ambassador to the Levant in 1716. That the wife would go with him through the war ridden Europe in a severe winter was totally unexpected. I cannot see how Hesse could have a say in the matter.’ 

Maybe looks really deceive. Here was a horrible Nosferatu, not the very first shape to associate with character, defending the honor of an absent party. But obviously the duke saw the matter in a different shade of darkness for he examined the archivist with very sinister looks.

‘You are not in pay of Hesse, are you, my lovely monster?’

‘Nein, hoheit,’

‘Stingy fellow, Hesse. Wont pay you as much as I do. Don’t tell me you have no price.’

‘Nein, hoheit,’

‘Good. I can always overbid Hesse. If he has got Reichsbank in Frankfurt, I got Landesbank Saxen-Anhalt in Dresden. Then there is Zurich of course.’

‘Hoheit has bigger share of Columbian trade.’

‘No need to be pedantic. You know it, I know it, they know it. For all I care, Larry King may know it too as long as he can hold his tongue.’

‘Oh, Larry Koenig is no security risk, hoheit.’

‘No need to be pedantic, I said. He would not be where he is were he that. Now as my archivist you are to tell me how it was the fault of Hesse that the Montague leak occurred. Or would you like me to tell you?’

‘I will have to consult the documents, Hoheit. Allow me to get the record for the year 1716.’

Nosferatu moved away in apelike springiness unexpected of a medieval relic that he looked. He disappeared in the dark recesses of the cave. The duke examined the skull on the table. Then his eyes surfed over labels on carafes. Eventually Nosferatu returned with a big leather bound volume. He read:

‘In 1716 Wortley Montagu was appointed ambassador to Turkey. The long and dangerous journey over the Continent in dead of winter was considered something of an achievement at the time. Lady Mary enjoyed it all, and kept up a constant correspondence with friends in England… Constantinople was full of wonders, which Lady Mary, unlike so many European wives, set out to explore and understand. She mastered the language, investigated mosques, and visited with the women of the harem, whom she came to admire. She discovered that the Turks inoculated for smallpox, and determined to bring the practice to England.’

‘I see your point. House Hanover got England in 1714, and therefore must be responsible for appointments of 1716. But it is not so. House Hanover took responsibility for fief security from Hesse first in 1717 when the grand lodge was registered. Before that, from 28 October 1708, Hesse had the charge of security in Britain.’

‘Hoheit knows best.’

‚Let me refresh my memory and correct me by the book if I err. Anne Stuart dies on 1 August 1714.’

‘Right, hoheit.’

‘That is official date for accession of Hanover. So, why was security in the hands of Hesse?’

‘Because Oldenburg passed it to Hesse, Hoheit.’

‘Ach, yes, that very stupid and insignificant husband of Queen Anne, as my grandmother Victoria often said. What was his name?’

‘Hoheit knows best.’

‚Come on, it may not be in school books of England but my archivist must know.’

‘Georg of Denmark, hoheit. Son of Frederick III, King of Denmark.’

‘Yes, our minor house of Oldenburg. They had command of the Holy Vehm for a short while but it coincided with the fall of Denmark into our hands and they placed their boy Christian on throne of the Viking Union. 11 September 1448. Was it a Tuesday? That was before French Burgundy fell into our hands in 1477... By the time Christian Oldenburg died 33 years later, his  Viking subjects were poxed to exhaustion never again to dare sea voyages. House Oldenburg ruled Denmark and the Vikings till 1863. Then came Christian IX Glucksburg, a cousin of Oldenburg. Oldenburg-Glucksburg rules Denmark to this day; Margarette II since 1972. It was our boy Christian X during both world wars. German king of all Danes from 1912 to 1947. Died at the age of 77 to old father of Queen Margo. naturally in both world wars the Good German would not put his armyunder French command. He would heroically resist the Reich for a few weeks and surrender all resources to the Reich, undamaged, mind you, for our war efforts, and himself sit in the safe British exile until we declared the Reich for defeated, having got rid of his dissidents for him, and game over, German kings back to their thrones; because the allies have won, haha, because Germans have lost the war, hoho. I love this game... Encore, encore! 

Duke of Coburg was silent for a long time. He must be thinking of all the French elite fooled by the most stupid trickery that worked because it was utterly inconceivable for a normal and natural being to imagine a farce unworthy of performance on the lowest provincial stages by travelling carnival performers, played on a global scale, with real blood flowing in torrents. Duke of Coburg recovered, revived, animated.

'Ach, yes... What was I saying?’

‘The year 1716 when Lady Montague went to the East, hoheit.’

‘Ach, Ja… From death in 1708 of George Oldenburg, dynast to Britain, to 1717, Hesse was in charge of security in Britain. That covered all appointments. That was the time when Hesse deployed lots of his vassals to the plantations in America. Queen Anne wars and decrees before 1708 are Oldenburg works and after that date they are Hessian operations.’

‘Hoheit knows best.’

‚But case of Lady Montague is special. It was her disfigurement by smallpox prior to 1715 that made her oversensitive and fanatical on the issue of inoculation later in the Levant. When did she marry?’

‘Hoheit knows best.’

The duke looked at the skull on the table.

‘Nanu, Lady Montagu, was your disfigurement by pox before or after your marriage? I bet it was after.’

The duke patiently waited for a reply from the grinning skull. He nodded as if listening to a report from beyond. He motioned to his creature to read.

‘Lady  Mary Wortley Montagu was born in 1689 in London; her father was Evelyn Pierrepont, Earl of Kingston, a Yorkshire gentleman.
She married Wortley Montagu in 1712. In 1713 Lady Mary's first child, Edward Wortley Montagu, was born. He was later in life to go back to the Levant and convert to Islam. He would die in Italy on 1776 jsut when he was planning to join the American revolution against House Hanover. In 1714, the lady is publishing a lot in England. In that year, Queen Anne died and Wortley Montague's fortunes improved. He was a Lord of the Treasury under George I Hanover. It became possible for Lady Mary, who had been kept mostly in the country, to move to London. In London, her beauty inspiration to poets for a short while and then she got the pox and was horribly disfigured. In 1715 she published the feeling in a poem.

The wretched Flavia, on her couch reclined,
Thus breathed the anguish of a wounded mind,
A glass reversed in her right hand she bore,
For now she shunned the face she sought before.

 "How am I chang'd! alas! how am I grown
A frightful spectre to myself unknown!
Where's my complexion? where my radiant bloom,
That promis'd happiness for years to come?

  "Ah! faithless glass, my wonted bloom restore;
Alas! I rave, that bloom is now no more! ...
The greatest good the gods on men bestow,
Ev'n youth itself, to me is useless now.

  ""Ye cruel chemists, what withheld your aid?
Could no pomatum save a trembling maid?
How false and trifling is that art ye boast!
No art can give me back my beauty lost.

‘You see, my dear archivist, that the lady was already a famous writer in London, friends to all the Scottish and Irish writers opposed to Hanover accession, and was visited by the pox. Hesse ought to know that the combination was explosive; that the Lady could not be bribed and would not keep quiet by any threat once she saw the Levant free from small pox and the means of it a most simple inoculation performed by village women. The mistake was committed in allowing her to go.’

‘They are ever so expensive to bribe but so cheap to kill.’

‘Yes but in this case we needed all the support of her family for Hanover accession. There were already too few natives in defence of a German king to proud Britons. The best to be done by way of damage control was for the queen Caroline to befriend her.’

‘Works every time. A friend in high place can delay fanatics who would not stop at armies in their projects. Delay them with flattery and mock cooperation: just wait a little while more…I mean to do lots of good but I need some more time… to publish now would alienate some of my party…the king promised… etc…’

‘Just, so, dear archivist. But do you think lady Montague was really clever enough to deprive us of our best ally, the General Pox?’

‘She did accuse travel writers before her time but she never suspected all the Ambassadors of Europe in the Levant to be in our occult ring. Why, for example, the French Ambassador never reported back that the Levant was pox-free and the means to it were simple, universally applicable and proved effective not only by experience of the Turks but by all the Christian nationalities of that federation. Lady Montague simply assumes that they did not notice it. How could they not notice absence of pox among the Greek population; the mark of inoculation on the forehead of every Greek, every Nestorian, every Bulgarian, Romanian, even every Gypsy who went from consulate to consulate telling fortunes?’

‘That is the handicap of talented natives. They too easily assume that what they saw instantly had evaded the intelligence of all others before them. Pride is their sin.’

‘Nevertheless it is a great feat to block the news of inoculation for a thousand years.’

‘For longer, my dear archivist. The moors in Spain had inoculation. There never was pox mortality among them nor among the Christian population of Spain for as long as it belonged the Arab Federation of Western Mediterranean: the US of Magreb.’

‘Pity the Levant did not have a means against the plague though. Had we a vaccine against the plague for our soldiers, we could eradicate the primitive Scots and Irish in no time from the face of the Earth. They are going to cost us dearly yet. If they manage to expose and expell the German dymasty from the Thames, I doubt if they will not poke their noses into our laboratories on the Rhine. The two kindred races of Jonathan Swift and Sir Walter Scott still stand between us and our next wave of expansion. It is them or us in America after the last nigger is no more.’

‘Yes. Had the east had a vaccine against the plague, surely we would too and then we could use the plague as well as the pox against the natives of America. In alternation the two epidemics would be very effective.’

‘I guess by now the Latins and Slavs have realized that every attack of our forces against them had been preceded by pox epidemics among them.’

‘No, my dear archivist, they know it not. After all, their books do not have the same timetables as your notebooks. In their timetables, you do not see epidemics and usurpations tabulated together. This one belongs to a specialized library and that one to another, miles apart. I need not tell you that both kinds of libraries are under our management, no matter in what country of Slavs and Latins, and alarm is raised if any native collates the two kinds of information into parallel tables.’

‘How difficult they are to bribe, but how cheap to kill…’

‘Paranoia and principles do not often combine. It is our good fortune that the more principled a native notable is, the less fear of death he knows and the more dishonorable he thinks it to suspect a host or a guest, of slowly poisoning him. Tell them Bruno Kreisky is not really a Jew but a crypto-German. They will not believe you. Tell them he administers strange poisons to their leaders during state visit hand shakes; they will not believe you. Are they yet to save? And yet, they still exist like wild oaths in a fine field.’

‘To deal with either a principled or a paranoid native separately is easy. The combination of paranoia and principles in one native could prove very dangerous to our projects. Charles the Bold was one such person, and so was Carlos III Bourbon, and Francia of Paraguay too... Not many though. What was I saying?’

‘Lady Montagu in the Levant…’

‘Ach, ja…. Bring me the treatise on Small Pox. Latest update.’

The Nosferatu shut and firmly gripped the volume of 1716 to take with him. The Duke however reached at it with a very long limb and grabbed as strongly. Snakey fingers of the Nosferatu would not let it go. The Duke tried shear force in vain and than hissed a command.

‘Los Lassen! I am a duke of the Holy Romani Germani Reich!’

Upon which the lesser snake instantly let go of the volume as if his fingers burned.

‘Now bring me the treatise! Los los!’

The duke watched him intently until Nosferatu disappeared in darkness of the cave without betraying any sentiment. The predator posture and demeanor of the duke relaxed like probably that of a snake after the act of laying her eggs. 

‘Armes Schwein’ muttered the duke to himself and petted the skull on the table. We rarely associate affection with poisonous snakes but obviously they are not always pure venom and hissing. Scorpions are supposedly photographed carrying their small ones on their back.

When the Nosferatu returned with a file, the Duke was smiling at him. It was a terrible smile appropriate to the collection of skulls and coffins around him. The object of this tenderness did not retaliate. 

There is no guessing if he was hurt or what exactly hurt him: the unexpectedly harsh command, an intervention in performance of his duties, indiscretion of exposing the chastity of his documents to outsiders. It might be any or all of these or things beyond our imagination which we would not perceive even though they happened before the eye of our camera. We would need to play back the scene many times and consult among ourselves many days had we a curiosity for refined sentiments of vipers. I have no such curiosity however. It is the interface of the viper universe with our own native universe that interests me in a vital way. The creatures are deadly on a grand scale of efficiency.

‘Sit down’ said the duke soothingly. Obviously he meant to make it up to his offended vassal. Nosferatu sat down with the file very firmly gripped on his lap. The duke looked at the long fingers on the file, grinned with approval and pulled back in his chair.

‘You ought to come out of this cave sometimes. Come to the castle. There is a film I would like you to see.’

‘As hoheit commands.’

‘Jawohl, I command. It is a Gothic film. Naturally diluted as compromise to present conditions in America. The Neighbors, it is called.’

‘Hoheit showed it to me last time.’

‘Ach! But the ending was missing then. Not fit for the general public in America. Specially made for the duchy of Gotha. It arrived only recently. But tell me how much  you remember of the market version and I will tell you the ending.’

‘There is a tiny town we never come to see in the film.’

‘Ausgezeichnet! Excellent! Lets call it Katzenellenbogen.’

‘Hoheit is harsh on House Nassau.’

‘Nassau my foot. It was House Katzenellenbogen and no more. You know why they hid behind Orange-Nassau! House Orange indeed. Do you know where the wretched village of Orange is?’

'Not within the Reich borders, Hoheit. Not in the holy Romani Germany Red Earth.’

‘Of course not. It was a pig manor deep in France near Spain. Cousin Nassau mystified the Scots with the title. It was an idea of Anne Oldenburg we made queen to James VI of Scots. She said Scots might be impressed only if they could not locate the place on maps of the Reich. What she meant was we should never try to displace her father and replace him with a German king of Britons. But the remark inspired the electors. In no time, House Naasau was made HOuse Nassau Orange and more often simply House Orange. What was I saying before?’

‘Gothic film: the neighbors. There is a tiny town we never come to see in the film.’

‘Ausgezeichnet! Excellent! Lets call it Braunschweig-Luneburg.’

‘Hoheit is harsh on House Hanover.’

‘Hanover my foot. It was House Luneburg and no more. You know why they hid behind Hanover! House Hanover indeed. Do you know where the wretched village of Luneburg is?’

‘Within the Reich borders, Hoheit. In the holy Romani Germany Red Earth.’

‘Quite. After the Scottish uprising of 1745 was put down by Duke of Cumberland, that stupid brother of George III Hanover, mad sons of Queen Caroline both, used to boast with being of the House Brunswick. He never said Hanover. The idiot in boasting with Brunswick, was hiding Luneburg, little realizing that Brunswick sounded absolutely as insignificant or obnoxious as Luneburg in the ears of the four native races of Britain. The fools of Luneburg would be overthrown by Scots in no time, had it not been for resources of Hesse and Coburg mobilized against Scots and Irish in Britain and in the Plantations of America. Mind you we were at the same time fighting against all Latins on both Hemispheres. Where would the Reich be without Hesse and Coburg, I wonder, if left to incompetence of Katzenellenbogen, Oldenburg, and Aargau.’

‘Hoheit undervalues the successes of Habsburg: it got Burgundy, Spain, Mexico...’

‘They are still House Aargau, are they not? Habsburg-Habichtburg my foot. Besides, Mexico was a Coburg Queen project. The Habsburg drone ruined it.’

‘If I may be bold enough, hoheit, in the first World War, 1757-1763, Saxe-Coburg was on the side of the enemy: allied with Slavs and Latins.’

‘Ahha. That is the poesy of our wars. Always ally your best general with your prime target against which the Reich goes to war.’

‘And ally the secondary targets with the Reich itself.’

‘It is elementary.’

‘So simple and yet yet no native Slav or Latin or Kelt or Viking ever came to write about this our strategy. too fine in texture for the likes of Latin machiavelli to see.’

‘Writing takes time, and natives are not capable of finishing a text without prior discussion in the open. Naturally the eyes and ears of Holy Vehm pick the intention and weed it out. Cheap and effective.’

‘Hoheit knows best.’

‚What was I saying before?’

‘Gothic film: the neighbors. There is a tiny town we never come to see in the film.’


	A Gothic Movie: The Neighbors


‘Ausgezeichnet! Excellent! Lets call it - Nothing. Tell me more of the film.’

‘There is a tiny town we never come to see in the film. There is the American who works in that town we never see and has his house way outside it; it all happens in and around this house.’

‘That is John Belushi!’

‘He has wife and daughter!’

‘More meat!’

‘The house is at the end of the road.’

‘Don’t forget the swamp.’

‘I was coming to it, Hoheit. There is only one other house at the end of this road. Its owner has died abandoned in an infirmary or asylum or refuge or old age house. He dies under tender attentions of a male nurse.’

‘That is played by Dan Aykrod. There is only one hint to his being German.’

‘Jawohl, hoheit. When the dog is illuminated by the leak from power transmission line, your vassal sooths the German Shepherd dog in our language.’

‘Hab keine Angst.’

‚That is what he says to the dog while soothing the poor thing after the electric shock. The American family has no idea this is German language.’

‘They assume it be some private language between dog and master.’

‘What other Gothic elements did you see in the film?’

‘The swamp, the basement, the simulated lightning from power transmission lines illuminating the derelict house, the sewage disposal man…’

‘And his son, like Hans Klopeks of the Burbs… ‘You remember the film well. What did you miss in the ending of the commercial version?’

‘That the American family got away.’

‘Exactly. In the real ending, made for us, Hans Klopeks eats the teeny girl, his father the sewage disposal man eats the mother and the Gothic couple eat the father. Neat ending, no loose ends. Come up sometime tomorrow and see the real ending. But now to the business at hand.’




	Smallpox inoculation leak

‘Business at hand, jawohl, richtig... Resumption of Smallpox epidemics in Americas from where we left,  master?’

'No, not yet and not me. But I bet on the skull of any Latin or Slav king in this vault, I will bet even on the skull and bones of Napoleon III we have here, that my cousin the duke of Bavaria, be he Elector which I am not, be he even king by grace of Napoleon I, which I and Elector of Hesse are not, that my dear cousin is into this pox business again.'

'Hoheit knows best.'

'You would know, you cheap monster that his Geheim Rat is in my pay. Why are you not in his pay, my lovely Geheim Rat? Too incompetent for a double agent or plain loyal? Or loyal because incompetent? '

'Hoheit...'

'Don't even try to lie to your duke. Had you not lacked the expertise to lie competently, I would have made you our ambassador to China. Pox epidemics: no, not yet. I will leave that risky enterprise to grand masters of Sovereign Orders and their Rotary auxiliaries. Risky it is because there are yet several microbiologists of the gentiles alive who can trace back a virus to the laboratory where it was reinforced for contagiousness, reinforced in virility, in force, in antilife force, antibiotic force...'

At this a loud applaud echoed in the cave like a school of bats. It was the single spectator of the Gothic Opera played by the duke and his equally obnoxious archivist against the background of skulls and bones filling the cave.

'Very well done, my Duke, ANDREAS Michael Arnim Siegfried Friedrich Hans Hubertus, very well said.'

The archivist withdraw like an actor whose part on the stage was over for this performance. The doctor advanced and shook limbs with the duke. Cordial and affectionate like gentlemen scorpions sincerely locking tails.

Eventually the two scorpions let limbs go and walked to the tunnel through which they had come. The archivist did not follow. He was truely a creature of this cave and his works of art were the skulls and bones of Latin kings that had somehow entertained displeasure of the Reich beyond the Rhine.

The two scorpions traversed a good many tunnels and caves and surfaced somewhere in the castle of Gotha. Eventually they reached the communications room we had seen before. The albino errand boy and his twin the communicator stiffened into formality of awaiting orders.

‘Prince Sonderburg-Schwarzhaus! Prince Sonderburg-Rudolfstadt!’ said the Grand master of the Sovereign Order Of Malta.

‚Baron!’ said the two obedient yahoos.

Then the Albino looked at the duke like awaiting permission to speak. The duke nodded.

‘We wanted, did we not, to meet our cousin of Bavaria  at his place. Does his Geheim Rat say the king elector is not available for some time?’

'Jawohl, hoheit.'

The duke turned to the Baron with demeanor of a wronged party. The Baron switched into the mood of a tender mother hyena about to separate two cubs locked in mortal combat.

'These things happen, my duke....'

'It is not that, Baron. Our emergencies are recreations to our exalted cousin of dubious titles. To reclaim the crown of Greece from our other cousin Hesse-Hauke-Battenberg is only the latest of insatiable ambitions. '

'Where would any of us be without those ambitions, my dear Duke...' said the Baron still soothing.

'Call Bavaria for an emergency meeting.' said the duke.

The communicator touched one of many bottons and spoke a code into an invisible microphone at brief appearence of a red light on the console. The light changed back quickly. Obviously he could still hear the other side through a tiny head phone in the listening mode but the other side could not hear voices in this room except for those brief moments when the red light was on. Still, none talked until the reply came through in form of another code. The duke and his two princes of the Reich reacted with similar long faces to what must be bad news but the doctor remained impassive. Obviously Grand Master of the Sovereign order of Malta was not privy to the code employed. The Duke rephrased:

'Elector king of Bavaria is still indisposed. Suggests meeting of Geheim Rats.'

'Somewhat ill or prone to illness.' elucidated the Doctor.

'Indisposed to our meeting even in his lair, doctor! I would say strongly opposed to meeting with lower ranks. He will not meet me except in retinue of my liege, Elector of Saxony.'

'Fair and proper,' said the Doctor.

'But in emergencies, he might bend the protocol.' 

'My dear Duke, let your liege know of the emergency and contact his peer the elector of Bavaria.'

'Not yet. I need more to go on before I divert the Elector of Saxony who is also the occult king of Poland. I myself being the liege of three reigning kings and a dozen claimants, cannot run to my own liege at the first sign of a disaster. But to find out all the facts of the emergency, I need information from my cousin of Bavaria.'

'Let the Geheim rats meet then. That is what they are for.'

'So be it. Call Bavaria again! Meeting of Geheim Rats recommended on an urgent matter.'

'The communicator touched a botton again. This time, in our space orb the usual response to communications on the planet went into action and I wondered why it did not do so for the previous call. I looked at the electronics monk but he was not in explaining mood.



	Chapter 7- ELECTOR OF BAVARIA

	Berchtesgaden

The newly activated monitor gave as usual the receiving coordinates:

'Berchtesgaden... X... Y...'

A small medieval castle appeared on the screen and then the camera was inside a communications room very similar to the one in Castle Gotha. Except, the communicator was not an elongated alien but a thick and fat yahoo with a beer belly. In other details he was like the Garden Dwarfs made of plastics in that duchy.

There were two other Garden Dwarfs about to leave the communications room. The older one of them was holding a postal package in his hand which he explained to the younger Dwarf.

'Elector of Bavaria has a parcel from Elector von Hesse. It contains a manuscript on life and times of one Mr. Benjamin Thompson of Massachusetts. The package is marked with a double cross. Eight flaming points form into a rotating wheel of fire. It is two swastikas forty-five degrees offset. The Helm of terror of Vehmic tribunals of Westphalia, over which Hesse presided since times before archives of Europe. '

The younger dwarf must have been a novice to the occult cabal because the older one explained things  with some patience. he also talked like imprinting unerasably on the memory.

The juvenile Occult-Rat was terrified at the sight of the wheel of fire on the package. The decrepit, creaky, centenarian, more likely antediluvian, occult-Rat explained the difference in messages conveyed by this holy sign of Teutons, depending on which area of the background it was painted on. 

'The background may be a door or a wall of a castle, a mirrer in a bedroom or in a washroom; the background may also be a piece of paper like thiw here wrapping the delivery.'

The juvenile rat could not take his eyes off the sign of the red sign of the wheel on the package. The old one had mentioned Vehmic tribunals of Westphalia. Suddenly, two titles flashed into my memory, both of them by the Scottish Sir arthur Conan Doyle: The Sign of Fourt and The Valley of terror.  These were Sherlock Holmes stories I used to be very much fond of. But here was a cabal much beyond Professor Moriarty whose job it had been to embarrass the British Empire before the First World War. The cabal we were now watching was probably in the business of preparing the third world war itself with ready made plans of what races to exterminate first. An intensive hatred of Latins and Slavs ran through all talks we had bugged so far.

Another garden dwarf entered the communications room of Schloss Berchtesgaden while the older rat was explaining the sign of four and the rules of terror to the young rat.

All three dwarfs jumped to their feet and all three cried at the same time:

'Durchlaucht!

'Nanu, what have you got for the King-Elector of Bavaria?'

'Duke of Coburg...'

'Suggests a meeting of our both Geheim rats on a matter of sume urgency?'

'Jawohl.'

'Let them meet in Ingolstadt. I want no Coburg around berchtesgaden.'

'So it has been arranged, hoheit.'

Then the Elector turned to the old dwarf whose fingers were still on the package.

'Is that a package for me? Proceed with your explanation. And you, my young Geheim rat, listen carefully to every word.'

The old rat resumed the lecture.

'Each of the eight compass points conveys a different message. Depending on which points the wheel fills, it could mean any of the following: your life, titles and property is forfeit; general summons to deal with an emergency crisis; general summons to celebrate another takeover of an empire or kingdom from natives and to legitimize the new line of succession; summons to arrange fake alliances with a target, like often France is one, before starting a world war; summons to deal with internal dissent, betrayal in own ranks; summons to agree on a native race for the Holy Royal Romani Germani sport of genocide, a Safari so to say … This one here says damage control successfully performed for a crisis concerning you of which you probably had no idea. That is Elector of Hesse addressing Elector of Bavaria.'

The old Dwarf bowed to his Elector.

The Elector of Bavaria had listened to the declamation of his Nosferatu with regal patience, all the while keenly watching the junior Rat with an eye accustomed to assessing potentials and capacities.


	Elector of Bavaria and his Count Rumford

The Elector left the communications room with both garden dwarfs, leaving the efficient communications dwarf behind. They walked through scary passages and then past a secret passage into an underground cave.

In the cave, the Elector walked to a table and remained standing beside it. On this cue, the Nosferatu pointed at the parcel still held by the junior rat. On this secondary cue, the junior got the idea, took the parcel to the table, laid it at the center of it and stood back. The duke smiled affectionately, looking from one to the other of his rats. The Nosferatu then proceeded to open the parcel.

A manuscript appeared among the collection of things that had been put together into that parcel. All items except the manuscript were separately wrapped once more. The duke reached, with signs of craving appetite on his face, for a wrapped round object of the size of a melon or rather a big pear but then pulled back with dignified self-control of a strong character on diet until mid afternoon. The Nosferatu remained rigid and attentive all the while in the posture of an authoritative mother watching her child who is about to pick dirt from the ground, which he has been instructed not to. He gave time even after the duke had pulled back and then like to reward a good boy for well-learned behavior, he picked the manuscript and handed it to his Duke. Upon which this exalted superior of all his rats pulled off a hand-written note very loosely attached to the manuscript, and read it:

‘You owe me one more, old boy. I hope you are counting. Signed, your cousin von Hesse.’

‘Are we counting?’ asked the duke, turning his face towards dark ceiling of the cave as if there was a bigger rat there to answer. Nosferatu watched the junior with caution, probably to make sure he is not learning ahead of his degree, or maybe hoping that the novice would not notice that their employer was a lunatic. And then he responded to the question.

‘We are counting, Hoheit. We are counting who owes whom how much ever since Hesse challenged the claim of Bavaria to Columbia.’

‘He did, did he? The crafty Hesse.’

‘Jawohl, Hoheit. Hesse challenged our claim to Venezuela too which is solid as solid can be through the banker Welser von Augsburg, loyal and undisputed vassal of Bavaria.’

‘I’d say lets split fifty-fifty and be at peace with my cousin Hesse. I have enough problem elsewhere as it is: Heinz Heinrich Kissinger, Oklahoma, Lipobay, Cipro, Anthrax, Teresa Kerry-Heinz,... I must micromanage every field agent, every field operation. It is too much for one Elector... Lets split fifty-fifty!’

‘That cannot be, hoheit.’

‘Why not? Surely the climate is similar. You could grow as much cocaine in one as in the other. No Hugo Chavez lives forever. We can wait. I mean after him, cousin Hesse could convert Venezuela into a second cocaine producer.’

‘That is not it Hoheit.’

‘Many more natives and Latins like Chavez? If you can kill one, then you can kill all. Where is the problem? Are not our lodges deeply embedded to form a patriotic government of national unity or reconstruction to any time we whistle? Then they will borrow, borrow, borrow and deconstruct all that was constructed by Hugo Chavez. Where is the problem? I say lets split with Hesse. Why must everything become a contest for all or nothing like that scarecrow Coburg likes...’

‘Our claim to Columbia is a corollary of our claim to Venezuela. We can have none or we must have both.’

‘I understand. Very clear. Of course. Our claim to Venezuela is solid you say? The name sounds Spanish, or is it Italian?’

‘It is both in different ways, Hoheit. Spanish for Little Venice.’

‘And yet Venezuela belongs to us by birth right and legitimate, no matter what Spain or Italy may make of the affair, am I right?’

‘Hoheit is always right. Latins are no obstruction any more than Native Americans.’

‘Why then is my second son not sitting in Caracas as the duke or king or emperor of all Venezuelas?’

‘Your cousin Hesse has put in a veto, hoheit. Usurpations need approval of all electors.’

‘The House of Wittelbach is never usurpers! I thought Venezuela was our birth right.’

‘Forgive slip of tongue, hoheit.’

‘This is how natives see us? The civilizing element, the one and only Herren-rasse? Do they see the master race as usurpators?’

‘Only those beyond the range or reach of our hospitals and aid organizations, hoheit.’

‘None within? They all can comprehend the immense good our blood brings them? I doubt that those savages have so much sense already before we have operated on them several generations. Quartering Acts and Window Tax, you know, and lots of assessors of taxable daylight through windows. Assessing must be done from inside every single room, you know. Houses with less than six windows pay no tax but the assessor must go in to assess if they indeed have less than six windows. I love it the way natives must say; pray, Mr. Assessor, come into our bedroom and see for yourself that the room has no windows.’

‘These are details, Hoheit, not worthy of your attention. For each acquisition by a duke of the Reich, there will be an Adrian von Utrecht to settle the misunderstandings among the natives.’

‘What if he would fail?’

‘If failed, he would not be made the next Pope as a reward.’

‘Incentives work miracles. If von Utrecht can pacify Spain for Habsburg, then he may become the next pope, never mind if only for two years. I am one for incentives, wherever they can be offered cheap enough. Like the job of Bishop of Rome for two years. That is cheap enough. But of course brute force and terror have their artistic appeal, efficient or not. Now let us see the manuscript itself, which has given another opportunity to our cousin Hesse to put us in his debt one more time, and he is counting, make not light of that. Let us see the manuscript.’

Garden dwarf version of Nosferatu took the papers from his duke to the table and made ready to read. The relieved duke straightened like from a burden, surveyed the dark recesses of the cave stretching infinitely beyond the illuminated isle, and than took to a chair. Nosferatu read:

‘Title: How Mr. Benjamin Thompson busted the nefarious Illuminati of Bavaria. A manuscript prepared for publication by the Scottish-American Heritage Foundation.’

‘I hate every Joseph and more so every Benjamin. WHo is this one?’

‘Mr. Benjamin Thompson is the Count of Rumford.’

‘Rumford where? Don’t tell me it is just beyond Battenberg. Did Mr. Thomson marry a Hauke? If not, how else could he come by such a Hessian-sounding title?’

‘Your grandfather gave it him back in the year 1791.’

‘Rumford in Bavaria?’

‘No, Rumford in New Hamphshire.’ 

‘Clever, my grandfather. After the line of this American became extinct, which I am sure it became if my grandfather was involved in the affair, the fief reverted to Bavaria. We own a town in America then, as our birth right. Is it a big town?’

‘It is called Concorde now.’

‘Not the capital city to the grand duchy of New Hampshire, doch!’

‘The same.’

‘I know all the capitals to the grand duchies in the United States.  Must know them to keep an eye on them lest Hesse snatch them all before us. Is it Rumford or Concord, is it ours or does Hesse claim this one too? Why two names?’

‘Americans changed the name sometime after their independence.’

‘That would be after 1783. Was the change of name after the town was made a Bavarian fief, you say in 1791? If so, I would like to know who tipped the Americans to our claim and what folly made them think they could escape their inescapable feodal future, by a change of name. Great Britain could not escape having a German king by change of names. Coburg or Windsor, who cares, as long as the dynast, father of the next king to all Britons, is a pure blood German.’

The Juvenile occult Rat fidgeted like he might have something to say on the subject. The duke gave him the chance.

‘Name of Rumford was changed to Concord in the year 1765.’

‘That is two years after the French war was concluded with all French possessions in North America passing to the German House von Hanover in London. Why was the name changed?’

‘A boundary dispute between two towns was at last resolved and therefore people of Rumford changed the name to Concord meaning peace.’

‘And yet the title bestowed in 1791 is not count of Concord. Hmmm. I will have to consult the occult diaries of my grandfather. George Washington was president at the time and very hostile to all royal titles of the old Europe with which he meant the Reich, no doubt, considering how he doted on and adored everything Latin. He would take it amiss if the actual name of an American town was subject of a title bestowed by the Reich. He would react by supporting France against the German electors if our agent John Adams were not there. But never mind that. When the time comes, Concord can be renamed Rumford and then the County of New Hampshire rightly belongs to us. Is that right?’

‘That is right, Hoheit.’

‘Tell me more about my fief, the town of Concord. Did my grand father establish future claims to other American duchies, and how come Hesse did not oppose the move at the time?’

‘Hesse was declared responsible at the time for losing America. Coburg George III put all the blame on Hesse and carried the other 10 Electors to a motion to chastise Hesse. In fact, a ban was hanged on Hesse not to make any of its vassals kings to new acquisition of the Reich for the following 165 years from 1783. That is until the year 1947 when the ban expired and Hesse was allowed to provide a dynast to Britain. Fifth German dynast to Britain since the glorious revolution.’

On hearing the phrase glorious revolution, the Elector of Bavaria chanted a sing-song:

'Treason never prospers, what is the reason?
If treason prosper, none dare call it treason,
then it is the glorious revolution... tram lam lam la...'

And then he continued in his normal ghastly voice, Shockingly repellent and gruesomely indicative of death.

‘But Hesse further provided German queens for German kings to Britain, Russia, Rumania, Portugal, Belgium and Holland during that period.’

‘That was a concession Hesse insisted on. If Coburg was to provide the kings, then Hesse must provide Lutheran queens to Orthodox Russia, Catholic Portugal, and to Protestant England.’

‘And this was the punishment of Hesse for losing America? I have often heard cousin von Hesse saying that he did not care whose vassal was king to usurped kingdoms for as long as the queen was a Hessian. It is safer for queens in savage kingdoms, you know. Think of Mexico. Charlotte Coburg got out alive as empress of all Mexicos but the poor Maximillian Habsburg-Aargau was shot like a rabid dog by the natives though he was emperor of all Mexicos; I am not saying he was not rabid, mind you.’

‘Charlotte Coburg had left the hemisphere before the disaster, Hoheit.’

‘You mean natives would have shot her too? I doubt it. They blasted Coburg King and crown prince in Portugal 1908 but queens were not killed.’

‘Latins have this weakness.’

‘Towards what they think to be the finer gender, right? I doubt if Scots would kill Queen Caroline although they certainly would hang him if they could catch her son the bloody Cumberland.’

‘Scots have this weakness too, hoheit.’

‘Yeah, yeah, and Slavs and Mongol-Russians, and Chinese and Indians have this weakness. I know that. But why do they have it? Anyway, the answer is surely not even in the unpublished works of Hegel. Same thing in 1913 Greece. George Oldenburg, once captain in Danish navy become German king to Greece,  was shot in Salonika; the German princess Sophie of Prussia was not hurt and became the next queen of all Hellenes and gave birth to the the next three German kings to Greece. The one deposed in 1967 and declared so in referendum of 1973 was her grandson.’

‘She was sister of Kaiser Wilhelm, Hoheit.’

‘That may be. But I doubt if Greeks would spare the Kaiser himself. Five times did they depose a German king and send him back to where he came from but they never hurt the German queens. Natives cannot understand that women are just equal. We, however, treat the women the same way we treat men: so we did in Warsaw Ghetto, in Auschwitz, in Lidice. No wonder we are the only civilizing element. No civilization without according equal status to women, in better or worse. I waste my breath on ungrateful native beasts. Read more of that Scottish manuscript.’

‘Subtitle: an examination into curious attitude of the publicists of two centuries in suppressing all references to the fact that it was Mr. Thompson who busted the extremely wicked Illuminati of Bavaria.’

‘Scottish, was he? Our Count of Rumford-Concord?’

‘Possibly. The same interests and style. Scots of his time were obsessed with inventions related to steam and heat and mechanics applied to transportation. All Scotland was fixated on getting away from what they called tyranny of House Braunschweig-Hanover. It was they who made first steamboats to reach from their western islands to America. So was Thompson too, fixated on practical inventions, wherever he was and whatever official job he held. He is most likely Scottish in origin.’

‘What was his job with us?’

‘Minister of War and the Police’

‘No kidding! A Scot-American becomes chief of police to Bavaria? What kind of minister?’

‘Real cabinet size minister.’

‘I don’t believe it. Why would my grandfather do a thing like that?’

‘Extenuating circumstances.’

‘Mitigating, justifying circumstances… I doubt it very much. You sure this is not a hoax based on some document my grandfather planted in the Library of Congress in America? Or rather Hesse planted it to embarrass Bavaria?’

‘That is not the case, Hoheit.’

'Mr. Thompson is real? Not like Old Shoe Johnson in the film Wag the Dog?

‘Mr. Thompson is real and really was here.’

‘He was really a Minister of Bavaria?’

'That he was. Minsiter of War and Police.’

‘Mr. Thompson was made a count of Bavaria?’

‘A Count of the Reich, hoheit!’

‘There now, I knew it was a Hessian hoax. My grandfather, elector of Bavaria, could not grant such a title. Only the Kaiser could that.’

‘Between two Kaisers, your grandfather assumed as regent the vacant office briefly.’

‘After Joseph II von Habsburg-Aargau died?’

‚And before Leopold II of the same house was confirmed for the office.’

‘And my grandfather found the time in the middle of that chaos, to bestow the title of Count of the Reich on a Scottish-American?’

‘He did, hoheit. Chaos there was no more than usual.’ 

‘You mean Geheim Rats are in total control while electors and Kaisers live and die?’

‘Your illustrious ancestors have organized it well, hoheit.’

‘I know, I know. Just don’t think you are indispensable if I am not.’

‘Hoheit…’

‘Read the damned Scottish paper.’

‘Abstract...

References to Mr. Benjamin Thompson in the libraries of the United States amount to less than one per cent of what they ought to be. Few though they are, in none of those references you will find mentioned the busting of a nefarious organization in the year 1785 by the police of Bavaria, the minister of which was none other than Mr. Thompson of New Hampshire, USA...

This but is only the lesser half of a conspiracy. There is an alternative press called conspiracy theories, lacking respectability yet and therefore not obliging a career academic to refer to them. Unlike the official and rexpectable pulp, here there is mention of the busting event of 1785. These publications expand on importance of a secret society called the Illuminati formed in Ingolstadt of Bavaria; they connect the society to the destabilizing of France and lay the responsibility on it for the French revolution as a prelude to the reign of terror that followed it from 1789 to 1794; they support this thesis with rich documentation from biographies and works published heroically, not few of them by Scots, in those days against all obstacles; but they never mention that the minister of police in Bavaria at the time was Mr. Benjamin Thompson of Massachusetts. This is the more vile half of the conspiracy....

I could not locate any copy of the Scottish book, Proofs of Conspiracy, published around the year of the French revolution, so I cannot tell if Mr. Thompson's role on busting of the Illuminati be mentioned there or no.’

The ancient dwarf stopped reading. He must have sensed that the Elector was running out of patience.

‘That is it? Hesse puts me into his debt for hunting down authors of such junk?’

‘Hoheit…’

‘I want nothing of this. Send it back to Hesse. Let him hunt down Scot-Americans for his sport, but I will not be charged for the costs of his Safaris.’

‘Hoheit…’

‘I don’t know the half of it? What else is there? Read!’

‘Table of contents.

Introduction to the role of German-Americans in the present war on terror, which are no less than a quarter of these United States; An eye-opener on difference of Clinton era, a much maligned proper Scottish gentlemen, who prevented these United States exploding sky high on ignition of the treacherous Illuminati fuses deviously called Somalia, Waco, Oklahoma, Kenya, Tanzania; On the present Germanic Junta that has usurped power in these United States, not by miscounting of the votes as commonly supposed, but by antipathizing the democratic candidates of the elections 1998; and how they are preparing to do the same in 2004 except for general Wesley Clark, a proper highlander gentlemen; Genealogies of the present Germanic Bosch-Junta including Rumsfeld von Bremen, Colonial Governor Bremer von Bremen, Generals Meyers and Franks von Bremen…’

‘Wait, wait, these are all vassals of Hesse, are they not? I bet there is nothing in that manuscript on Heinz Heinrich Kissinger? Our vassals are never exposed. Let Hesse cover himself at his expense if his vassals are so dumb as Rumsfeld.’

‘Hoheit…’

‘Very well, go on.’

‘Chapter one. Demography and topography of the seventy five million Germans in these United States and correlation of their distribution with numbers of unnecessary autopsies in the hospitals of these United States.’

‘That can mean nothing because he cannot prove an autopsy unnecessary. Cannot quantify the benefits to the future mankind, you know.’

‘But Hoheit if he proves in numbers that German doctors perform autopsies on forty percent of normal deaths while Scots-Irish do no such thing…’

‘Nonsense. It will only mean that Germans care more for the benefit of future mankind. Nation of Kant and Hegel, Bach and Beethoven, you know.’

‘Hoheit…I doubt if a single Scot-Irish Celtic American will concede so much credit to the three hundred German names in music and philosophy. Especially when they can count Marx and Engels among our philosophers and Mengele among our doctors.’

‘No, they wont. You are absolutely right there. Those Phoenician brutes wont appreciate how much better the quality of life can be in Auschwitz with Beethoven. Our vassals in Britain lack the sensibilities of our vassals in the east. Look at the number of Japanese talent flocking into this free State of Bavaria to learn Beethoven. I bet not one Scot ever came to us for the lofty music. Cannot catch a moose with a mousetrap, I suppose. Different game, other trap. Very well, go on.’

‘Chapter Two. Experience of Mr. Benjamin Thompson with invisible inks of spy letters during the 1776 siege of Boston and how this helped him later to expose the invisible writings of the Illuminati of Bavaria in the year 1785.’

‘Wait a minute…This Benjamin was present in the siege of Boston then? Did you know that?’

‘Count Reichsgraf Rumford was there, Hoheit.’

‘On which side?’

‘He was with the Hessians, Hoheit.’

‘Hesse again! I tell you, the thing has nothing to do with Bavaria except some Scottish delusion with Illuminati of Ingolstadt. Lets hear more.’

‘Chapter Three. Planting of smallpox by Hessians before they must leave Boston and why Mr. Thompson never suspected of it.’

‘That is interesting.’

‘And why the French could be defeated by German smallpox in the seven years war 1757-63 but Scottish-Americans could not be defeated with the same weapon in the American Revolution of 1776-1783.’

‘I’d like to know why. Did you know why?’

‘I did know it, hoheit.’

‘Has the Scot nuicence got it right?’

‘He has, hoheit.’

‘Well?’

'Someone unexpectedly converts George Washington to benefits of inoculation.'

'Who was he?'

‘Martha Washington goes to war.’

‘Meaning?’

‘He was she.’

‘George Washington worked for us in the French wars. Benjamin Franklin too.’

‘Jawohl, hoheit.’

‘During which we defeated the French in Canada with the smallpox.’

‘We did.’

‘And those Americans in our ranks did not notice the application of small pox to the French and their Indian allies?’

‘Never. Had they known, the Scots and Irish would instantly go over to the French. They had not much love for the House of Hanover for which they were conquering Canada.’

‘And then they rebel against the same House Hanover they served in French war. And this time France is their helper without which they would be exterminated.’

‘Scot also means stupid.’

‘Really? In what language?’

‘Hessian.’

‘Ha ha, very funny. If only Scots knew who their one and only enemy on the planet was and is; they would instantly unite the whole planet against us. They can, you know, like in that science fiction, Battlefield Earth, in which we are the Psychlos, the carnival performers. Ron Hubbard came very close indeed. Almost named the Reich. Tell me about Martha Washington. How does she go to war?’

‘The year is 1776. Small pox has defeated the Americans in siege of Quebec. Canada is guaranteed for House Hanover. And the same pox is about to defeat the rebellious Scot-Americans everywhere. Thirty thousand Hessians stand against as many Americans but Hessians are inoculated and Americans are not.’

‘Americans are not inoculated. Why not? Since Stupid Hesse failed in suppressing the book of Lady Montagu.’

‘That was in the year 1763. The book was an instant bestseller in Scotland and Ireland. It described how a few village women could inoculate all their people in a week.’

‘So why were Americans not inoculated?’

‘Because not one copy of the book reached America.’

‘No kidding. Hesse is certainly good in damage control after he has made a mess of things; but not even one copy to Americas by a Scottish pirate?’

‘Not one. In all the correspondence about the pox decimating the American Army, neither a general nor the congress nor anyone in the colonies ever mentions Lady Montagu or her book, The Turkish Ambassy Letters, published 1763.’

‘But Benjamin, curse the name, Franklin had been in London shortly before 1776. Surely he got a copy with him?’

‘He never saw a copy in London, Hoheit.’

‘Hesse micromanaged that? What about that other most dangerous terrorist?’

‘Thomas Paine left England in 1774. Surely he must have urged inoculation?’

‘He knew nothing of it, hoheit. None who knew survived the passage from England to America after publication of that book in England 1763.’

‘Hesse managed that too? Not one leak? I find it hard to believe, knowing that the House of Hesse is genetically stupid.’

‘Not one leak, Hoheit. Those who could not be removed on the Atlantic passage were taken out on disembarkation.’

‘Well, well, cousin Hesse. What would become of our world domination without Hesse. I surely appreciate the expansion of our dominions with each world war but I would rather it was devised the other way around. Hesse is masochist.’

‘Hoheit?’

‘I mean every time to make the Reich loser of a world war. I am sure it could also be planned the other way around. But Hesse has got a twisted mind. To keep our landed estate under flags of Britain etc.’

‘It is so much safer, hoheit. No burglar would look for our treasures in London.’

‘Nor in Switzerland, nor in Wall Street. But still, after every lost world war, even when we know our pretended defeat expands our dominions under flags of German kings to Britain, Belgium, Holland, I mean, still, the Reich is presented to the world as the loser. It does hurt for a while.’

‘Never for long, Hoheit. Wir sind wieder wer!’

‘Long enough to hurt. I mean those three years from end of the Fuhrer to the blockade of Berlin, we appeared as pariahs of the nations, did we not?’

‘Small price, hoheit, for highest stakes.’

‘But suppose the American public would not be turned within three years after the Fuhrer; suppose Heinrich Truman died prematurely and Nixon became Vice president three years before 1952; none could then turn America into ally of eight Germanic monarchies against Soviet Union of all Slavs so soon after Scottish-American and Russian had together defeated Hitler and liberated five thousand concentration camps. Suppose Americans continued allies of Slavs. Where would we be then? Hell, we could not even start the Korea War. Independent republic of Vietnam would have been recognized there and then; hell, we would net be able to drag France into quagmires Indochina and Algeria. We would not be able to execute the Vehmic program of making the enemies of our Reich the most hated nations of the planet one after the other, one per decade. There would be economic cooperation between America, Russia and China; another Mongol federation ready and able to crush in the bud our every war attempt; hell, we would not be able to start a massacre of millions in central Africa simply by killing two presidents in one plane; inscrutible Chinese detectives of the Mongol Federation would quickly trace back the rocket to our factories and the hand that pusshed the trigger to our duchies. Hell it would be for us without fun; let alone further dividing Pakistan, it would reunite with India, even with Indonesia and Persia, after having uncovered the motives of Hesse-Battenberg-Mountbatten in dividing the land in the first place... Hell it would be for us like it had been in the centuries of the Mongol federation that gave the Slavs the centuries to restructure and grow vigorous again after centuries of Teutonic Order operations from the Baltic. Our Vehmic divisions operating on all continents under flags of Dutch-Nassau, Belgian-Coburg, British-Coburg-Hesse, our agents in the field from Central Africa to Paraguay, would be exoposed and deported like once our Jesuits from all continents. Hell it would be for us, had Heinrich Truman been replaced by Nixon and Eisenhower three years earlier.’

‘In 1945 Hesse guaranteed he could turn America in three years, Hoheit.’

‘I wonder if even Heinrich Truman and Rockefeller could do it without the advent of television. Hesse was just lucky. But still, my vassal Heinz Heinrich Kissinger, operating from Oberammergau, in full cooperation of the Vehmic divisions both here and in America, contributed a lot to the ultimate success of allying America with the eight remaining Germanic Monarchies; having lost the crowns in the Balkans. Except Greece, but of course Hesse had a stake there. It was by indirect route of Andrew Oldenburg in Greece that Hesse got Britain from Coburg. But still, Hesse makes too many mistakes: like those two bases on Cyprus Hesse uses towards recovering the crown of Greece. I bet we will have problems there. How long can Hesse keep themout of the news while Cyprus remains a top item, I wonder... ’

‘Hoheit?’

‘You were telling me about Martha Washington…’

	Dec 5, 2003

	Martha Washington goes to War

'We have a complete file on Martha Washington. If  I may be allowed to...'

'Tell me what you can without consulting documents. I am sure the important parts are impressed on your mind.'

'In the first year of rebellion...'

'I know that inoculation was illegal in the plantations at the time. Tell me how it became so.'

'In the year 1720 an African slave told his Scottish American master how to make the population immune to smallpox. The Scot was one of the Matter family.'

'Doch not the Matter who did our bidding in the Salem witch hunt of 1689.'

'Of the same family. He had served us unwittingly but he was not of our people. Like all the other necessary...'

'...fools, I know. How was inoculation then banned in Virginia? It was first banned there?'

'I think so. Once the black man told the method, the inoculation soon spread like an epidemic. People instantly believed in its effectiveness and soon they were sure of it.'

'Of course they realized that the blacks had never died of the pox while the British settlements died like flies.'

'The reason why blacks never told Britons until 1720 is not known.'

'That is simple. A quarter of the plantations were ours people and they destroyed any who spoke about it and with him whoever he spoked to. After generations our terror they insitinctively know what subjects never to mention even to themselves.'

'The result of inoculation was that Britons increased no less than our people deployed during the reign of Queen Anne...'

'Reign of Dynast Oldenburg in London.'

'Naturally inoculation had to be banned and subjected to death penalty.'

'Naturally, but how was it done?'

'A session of inoculation was announced by one of our doctors and others of our doctors attacked him for endangering the public safety; for risking to start an epidemic.'

'Very sensible. They need to escalate the debate before a check mate.'

'So the case was brought before a court of law which decided against inoculation. Then legislation was made and inoculation banned. Those caught doing it to themselves or to others would be punished severely.'

'Well done. And by the time the Britons rebelled in America against German king of Britain, inoculation was a banned thing since a generation or more. Why then could the Hessians who were all inoculated, fail to defeat the rebels by application of pox?'

'Because Martha Washington went to the war.'

'But what could she do against the law of the land?'

'She violated it; she inoculated herself and proved that the method worked. Then she inoculated her kids and proved that the method was without risk. Then she inoculated the family of Jefferson and won influential people for her campaign to inoculate the Americans.'

'And then?'

'Then, George Washington discovered that the hessian troops were all inoculated.'

'How? None in Spain, Britain, France had ever noticed in their rebellions or wars against the reich that our soldiers were inoculated. Whenever a hundred thousand of them died of the pox, the Reich released similar statistics as if our people died too.'

'It happened while George Washington was besieging Boston.'

'Siege of Boston then. Hessians inside the city and rebels outside it. Nothing simpler than infecting the most charming girls in the town prison and then out of mercy letting them free to go and join the rebels.'

'So it was done, but a rumor got out of town that Hessian generals were doing this. George Washington wrote to the Congress.'

'Exaggerating the rumors no doubt.'

'To the contrary, he wrote that for some unfathomable reason such rumors were being spread but no enemy would go so low as do such a thing.'

'Very well, then.'

'But then, three weeks later, he wrote again to say that unfortunately the rumors have been verified; it is all true that the Hessians are infecting innocent people and sending them out of town to his camps; that in all those who came out of Boston had developed signs of pox, and that all had been examined by Hessian doctors before they were allowed to leave the town.'

'That proves nothing.'

'No, but at that time, Martha Washington wrote him the results of her illegal inoculations.'

'And that changed the mind of the General?'

'It did. On january 1777, George Washington ordered inoculation of all his army.'

'And that is how we lost America to Scots, alas. Stupid Hesse should have taken out both the General and his Martha. How I hate Scots.'

'The general would have been removed, it was even decided until Prussia vetoed the decision.'

'Why would Frederick the Great commit such a mistake?'

'Because his best General had found acceptance by George Washington as Inspector General of the American Continental Army. Had Washington been eliminated, no Scot to replace him would allow the Prussian General to remain in that important post.'

'Fat lot of good. Anyway, no point on crying over spilled milk.'





	Ten Cents for Worries of Bavaria 

This was a worried Elector. he talked about many subjects in quick succession.  It was more like memory training than exchanging new information. Obviously this coven relied alot on memory, maybe fearing documents could leak.

They talked about Count Rumford in Bavaria, his inventions, his reforming the poor houses, his rounding the beggars of Bavaria into military factories, his improving fireplace and chimney designs, his developing a theory of heat and friction convertibility from the observation of drilling into brass canon. They talked about his adventurism, his expertise in invisible inks. They talked about a daughter of Benjamin Thompson who visited the father in Bavaria and was made a countess of Rumford before she returned to the United States; they had made her a countess free to reside anywhere, implying there where she resided would automatically become a fief of the Reich, to be claimed by the Reich maybe centuries later on virtue of her title.

Then they talked about a heirloom of Mrs. Abraham Lincoln; a very strange story that I could not make sense of. They talked about the case being presently before an American higher court, the lower court having decided in favor of the German claimant to the heirloom; they talked about the opposite party in the court which was made of an American Church, the American Red cross and another American institution, an American university; it appeared that Mrs. Lincoln had endowed the property left from her husband for education of her descendents and then added a clause on to whom the endowement should go in case of extinction. 

They talked on the heirloom of Lincolns at some length. The Elector and his Geheim Rat put the blame on some stupid Palatinate fromm Rhineland-Pfalz for a blunder in the process. Someone had not done his homework properly. The last heir of Lincolns, whose mother's father's mother was the widow Lincoln who founded the endowement, had been sterile and knew it before marriage to the crypto-German American form Rhineland-Pfalz. 

The way I understood it from the cryptic hints, the endowment was now worth no more than tens of millions of dollars. Not the amount but a principle was at stake here. That of perfect usurpation by letter of the law. It appeared that the last of Lincolns had suffered a disease and was diagnosed sterile by his reliable doctor. WHat is more, both the Last Lincoln and his doctor had kept this knowledge confidential and private; even from the Vehmic bride until such time when a perfect Rhineland-Pfalz baby was produced as the future heir of Abraham Lincoln. Only then had the last native heir and his doctor had made the report of sterility public, had rejected the cuckoo baby and upon resistance of the parasite, the good old Americans had applied to the good old AMerican courts of law. Cuckoo mother and baby escaped from America into Rhineland-Pfalz, planning not to show up in America until the last heir was dead and gone. But it appeared that the last Lincoln, even if a Lincoln only on the mother side, insisted on settling the matter before his death. He wanted the heirloom to go to the three American instituitons as willed by his grandmother. He was being sentimental in this because his grandfathers had founded those American institutions, including a University. Eventually the last Lincoln and his attorneys managed to produce a court order for the cuckoo mother and child to show up in an AMerican court or their claim would be forfeit for all times. The Vehmic Tribunals gave a Bavarian lawyer and sent the team to America. Somehow, judges had gone and judges had come and a German-American judge decided against the last Lincoln and against the three American Institutions, in favor of the Rhineland heir. These inturn, objected and took the matter to a higher American court and there stood the case by the time September 11 Junta raised german Americans to top positions of Homeland Securtiy, suspending most constitutional freedoms and rights of native Briton and Latin Americans as opposed to German Americans.

This was the gist of a very cryptic conversation on this December of 2003 in the castle of Berchtesgaden, once head quarters of Hitler.

Considering the paltry amount involved in this very sophisticated dispute, and the weighty character of three American Institutions challenged for the heirloom, I thought mybe the Elector and his people were talking in code, and meaning matters all together unrelated to the things they seemed to name. Otherwise, the whole story made no sense; it was too trifling for an alien race preparing a world conquest; claiming to have ruled empries as distinct as Orthodox Russia and Catholic Spain, and not to forget, the last three centuries of the British Empire under German kings.


Then the Elector returned to the subject of Lady Montagu again. The son of this maverick lady had been poisoned somewhere in Italy, I think they said in Venice,in the year 1776, just before he was planning to go to America and join the revolution. He had to be eliminated because he was a living proof of the effectiveness of Inoculation. His mother, the Lady Montague who had been disfigured by the pox in London of 1715 had inoculated her four years old son in Istanbul; she had forced the British Embassy doctor to perform the operation. Upon returning to England, she had convinced all people to the effectiveness of the method by exposing the child to pox victims and conclusively proving that the child was hundred percent immune to the scourge of Britons and Latins. This boy had grown up into an adventurer no less daring than his mother, had travelled in the Levant extensively, had done research in Egypt and written books on causes that made ancient kingdoms fall. Had he reached America and joined the continental forces, he would surely react to the immense losses of the continental army to the pox epidemic in convincing the congress to the necessity of inoculation. He would of course reproduce from memory the whole book of his mother, the Turkish Embassy Letters, in which as a kid of four years, he had been the leading personage as the first Briton inoculated against the pox since 1157 AD when the practice was made illegal by the german Hanse which was the CIA of Plantagenets from the reich who replaced the mixed elite of Scots-Latins come from Normandy in 1066.

Then the Elector talked about Carlos III in connection with Lady Montague exile in Italy and first pox inoculation in Latin America. The Elector hated Carlos III Bourbon and cursed him at every sentence.


Then they talked about Solzhenitsyn and Ryumin but I could not make sense of most of it. I should view the records of this conversation several times to get the essence of what it was that they were so sure Ryumin almost discovered but Solzhenitzin had missed. Then they talked about another Russian Ryumin who had been envoy of Pyotr the last native Czar of Russia before German usurpations. They talked about this Ryumin accompanying Georg I Hanover to London in 1714 accession. They also talked about a crown prince of Czar Piotr who was engaged to a girls of House Brunswick, next of kin to House Hanover; they talked about how this Alexej was drugged and corrupted in Braunschweig and then perverted in ways no Slav mind could understand or accept or forgive; and then, the perverters had provided irrefutable documents of the perversion, except who done it, to the father, and then the son in danger for his life in the hands of the last native justices of Russians before Germanic usurpation, was offered refuge by the same Braunschweig cabal who had perverted him and informed his father. The lost creature, damaged physically and mentally by all the occult and chemical sciences of German genius, was spirited out of Russia into Vienna where the sister of his Braunschweig bride who died during engagement, was queen or princess of the reich; Naturally the last native Czar was furious, had sent a Count Tolstoy to Austria to bring back the runaway. This is all happening before Pyotr the last native Czar of Russians dies in 1725. So, this count Tolstoy must be a grandfather of the famous author who died around 1910.

Count Tolstoy brings back the youth from Vienna to Moscow after giving his word that no harm will come to his life. Count Tolstoy has the word of the Czar on this. But then in Moscow, the last native Czar turns the matter to justices and washes his hands off the affair. When the justices decree death penalty, Pyotr finds himself in a dilemma; his word on the Bible against a perversion for which there is only death penalty in the Bible. In the end, Pyotr withdraws his word and lets the justices free to decide according to the Bible. So, the last native heir to the last native czar is executed and the way to German usurpation becomes wide open by the time Pyotr dies in 1725 without a male heir. It takes another 35 years until German usurpation becomes irreversable, but that is another story said the Elector bavaria and changed the subject.

Then he talked about the French, about a french ambassador called Chetardie in Moscow of 1740, and a French doctor to the last Romanov called Elisabeth like the last Tudor before her.

Then he talked about the claim of Bavaria to the throne of Greece being stronger than that of Hesse-Hauke-Battenberg and even stronger than House Oldenburg. He talked of a Bavarian vassal Dr. Streit whose services to the Reich as Minister of Interior in Greece before 1914. A Bavarian minister of Police in Greece was something unthinkable for me so I thought maybe this too was code talking.

Then Elector of Bavaria talked about incidents in Cincinatti that have taken place the week before. Let that chief of police be grilled, he said. Streicher, is he? And then, eliminate the Scottish reporter who printed the name Streicher in connection with death of another Nigger. According to this Elector, it ws bad enough that all kinds of place names in and around Cincinatti were German: Hotel on the Rhine and what not; the town was flooded by Niggers after its Germans were deployed on sensitive tasks to other parts of America; naturally a very few German-Americans were left behind for law enforcement; chief of Police Streicher was one of them; again naturally, the elite of Niggers had to be monitored and wiped out. But what on earth was the point of beating to death a fat nigger of 350 pounds. That is about hundred sevety five kilograms, and I would not be surprised if taprticular Nigger was fond of beer and pork too, he added knowingly. Two years ago the Niggers had revolted against the police force in Cincinatti and any number of investigations had to be allowed. Naturally, they all had ended in finding the police perfectly within its rights and following standard procedures; so far it was all natural enough. After all, an investigation committee for Auschwitz, if made of German-Americans, would arrive at the same conclusion: standard procedures had been applied meticulously; even in operation of the crematorum, user's manual delivered by its manufacturer, Topf und Topf GmbH of Erfurt, had been followed as closely as humanely possible. But the trouble with such investigations is that names leak out and there being still all too many Scottish-Americans in the local press of that country, German names like Streicher call attention to our other operations in Americas. That is dangerous. Let go if you can a fat nigger rather than being exposed as German-American law enforcement executing Niggers on streets of Cincinatti.

The Elector of Bavaria also talked about the Claim of Bavaria to Cincinatti as a feudal fief. This was a very complicated argument I could not follow. He talked about a Winter King, some Thirty Years Wars, Kurland-Pfalz losing the Kurwurde to Bavaria and with it some territory and some vassals too. Among these transferred vassals had been ancestor of the rightful owner of the duchy of Cincinatti and therefore inspite of Palatinate settlement there, the duchy belonged to Bavaria with no less justification than Greece belonged it through Otto and Amalia, first king and queen of Greeks since Agamemnon and his blood thirsty queen.

I very much tired of disconnected speech of the Elector of Bavaria. If it was not all code for alltogether different matters, then it was pure nonsense. Probably his Geheim rats, his vassals, and all his perverted creatures had to listen to him but surely not for me and no thanks to you. Enough of this junk I thought and all the six monks watching the same monitor in the Space Orb felt the same way by the time I turned to them with all signs of bordem over me.


	Chapter 8- INCIDENT IN WARSAW

Confession Hysteria in Warsaw

Warsaw Cafe... with more variation: Schlepper, illegal immigrants, gun sale, spies from Kazakhstan posing as Russian but in ethnicity German... Confessions come out in layers... unfolded in dialogue... Chinese dentist and cooks ... 

	Dec 6, 2003

By this time, quite a number of monitors on the wall of Space Orb were alive. It is true that we concentrated our attentions on the latest every time a call was made and a new monitor came alive showing the receiving end of the call. But all the previous monitors remained live and as I understood from gestures of the electronics monk, what they showed was also recorded for later viewing. That is why we did not mind missing some of the action.

Now, the very first two monitors we had started with, buzzed with blinking texts on them. Indeed, on the first monitor was Carlos Lehder Rivas making a call and on the second monitor was that phone boot in Central Warsaw. Carlos was calling the last of his three killer teams again. I recalled that he had indeed started with this one but none had answered the phone ringing in a public boot. This time, it turned out that someone was loitering outside the boot on  this purpose because he rushed in and picked the receiver at the first ringing.; probably boss of the killer team.

'Warsaw!' he snapped into the receiver.

'Any problems?' said Carlos in Ingolstadt.

'None.'

Carlos waited for some explanation in vain. The killer team was ready for instructions and alert as if poor Carlos had net been trying to contact it since some time. 

'Very well,' said carlos in resignation, 'Just do it!'

'Jawohl' replied the bulldog growl, hang up and walked out the boot. Our mini Seiko camera must that had been fixed on the boot all this time followed him into the cafe. he walked to a table where three hounds were hypnotizing their beer glasses. He sat down to the fourth glass and joined the occult performance in full silence. His hounds watched the top dog  without raising their eyes from the glasses and then nodded impreceptibly and simultaneously as if confirming the unspoken command: just do it!.

Then all four hounds including the top dog looked sideways at a table not near theirs. There was a youth sitting there and talking in a low and mature voice. Judging by the attention of his listeners, he might be a Polish poet and they likewise Polish admirers of literary arts to which cafe discourse belonged. The speaker was youngest on the table. The poet had a worried face in contrast to the plain demeanor of his good natured and careless listeners. They all looked like good folks, except the one knew knew fear more than the others who probably did not know enough to be afraid of the near future.  The poet threw a nervous look at the table of the hounds but his listeners were oblivious to all else around them in this crowded Warsaw cafe. With a nervous look, the poet registered the return of the top dog and shrugged his soldiers. His attention returned to his table with a comment from his oldest listener:

'Yes, Adam Bielak, you do have a point there, but I think you exaggerate a bit. Those days cannot come back. Those things cannot repeat in these times. Look around yourself, everything is different now. Borders of sovereign nations are respected nowadays as never before. Poland now is safe as never before especially since the end of Soviet Union.'

It was a pity that our camera had been fixed all this time on the phone booth outside; had the top dog picked the phone on previous ringing, we would have known what was talked on this table to deserve this important comment. There followed a long silence. Obviously the poet had been talking a lot until now but had somehow lost his apetite for talk since he registered that top dog return to that silent table of four beers. At long last, he uttered two words, he almost whispered them softly:

'Warsaw Pact...'

No one moved. The poet continued after another nervous look at the hounds as if he could sense the nature of their business and the import of their orders; as if he knew his time was running out and this might very well be his last talk.

'Fear! Fear is a strange thing; it is mother of all occult hokus pokus. All toooften hope helps like a cool balsam that cures nothing but give a temporary relief. Hope is false hope when you know there is no escape from an unnamed source; a sentiment of such a combination induces fear. 

Carefree Poles who would exaggerate no danger and explain away all fearful signs, go through phases of scared sparrows; sudden silence, intent listening, and then prrr. Probably in human beings this happens at the uttering of a taboo word. What makes a word taboo and what lets all members of an aggregation know that it is a taboo if the thing is by definition not spoken off since a certain period in the past, I wonder. 

Maybe, the most difficult of tasks for active human perception, namely the registering of an absence, is instinctively caught and stored away by some passive perception. For invariably, the subject or word they avoid and divert those dear to them from stumbling on it inadvertantly, and do this in jokular moods, when at last broken loose from its burial place and thrown into the open, produces the affect of an unnameable fear on the congregation. Those of you who have been targeted by the judiciary and law enforcement of a medieval duchy and dragged before its courts many times in their teens will know the kind of fear involved hear. '

Poor chap, I thought, must have had experience similar to mine. I wonder in which duchy he had been. The Polish poet continued.


'Courage is not relevant here because courage has no business in the domain of things unnamed yet. To dare in the face of the unnamed is domain of the crazy; which, if a nation not have in enough numbers, it must duck and tremble while gradually rolling towards extinction. All nations that could be eradicated by an unnamed devil driving the colonialist gangs had been over-rational, had lacked crazy members among them; if they had some then not in enough numbers;  too good to survive too dirty offensives. Too good to learn from repeated betrayals, methodical lies; declaring each episode of bitter experience in dealings with such an enemy to be an exception that can never repeat. You can see this very plainly in all the Native American oratory, but most clearly in speeches held on ocassions of signing yet another peace treaty after yet another war which the colonialists were certainly losing until the peace gave them a respite to reinforce their arms for the next unannounced attack, for the next incomprehensible massacre; incomprehensible in humane terms, incomprehensible  to those targeted at the time; incomprehensible to mankind to day when reading and thinking about those days and  those disappeared nations.

I think the nature of printed material that is extant, still available, deludes mankind as regards the essentials of past massacres. Since September 11, individuality of crime, real or invented, is no more. Irrespective of what secret service of what monarchy from Europe burns a train or hits a tower anywhere in the world, whole nations, races, religions are targeted in a war against terror. This is the same procedure with which every single one of five hundred Native American nations was framed,  blamed and destroyed. They were declared terrorists and then massacred kids and kin indiscriminately. Like fighter planes targeting unreinforced towns like Lidice in retaliation to loss of Hydrich von Gestapo and SS. Each time a tribe was accused of scalping an innocent settler family, Whisky smugglers and missionaries and mule peddlars had been everywhere long time before this, the land being over meshed with such networks and the crime blamed on a peaceful native tribe was always of the nature of senseless cruelty and savagery that has happened amply in central Europe during the thirteen Hitler years in such quantitites as to exceed all that has been blamed on natives of all continents during all four hundred years of colonial aggression. What is more, not one of those blamed on natives is really proved, from not one scene do we have a really credible witness; But crimes in central Europe, topping all planetary sums in every category including the extracting of gold fillings in teeth and the cutting of hairs, all these crimes in Central Europe are indisputibly the work of one and only one breed, be it an aboration come about on this planet or something wicked from the outer space.'

The Polish poet made a long pause during which he watched the four hounds with their predator eyes fixed on four beer glasses. Indeed theirs was the only quiet and imobile table in the crowded cafe. It was impossible not to notice that they somehow did not belong. There was no beer on any other table. All others talked and joked with lots of animation. It was impossible that this pack did not look curious and out of place to any one except our poet. Yet, no one looked towards the pack primed to spring. The crowd was like a huge herd of zebras, conscious of the few but deadly hyeans on the rocks overlooking the grass plain; the only hope each zebra could have was safety in numbers. And indeed all except the poet looked alike as zebras do in a herd of thousands and a hyena would have it not simple to decide which one to snatch this time. Except for the poet; he did look different and talk differently so much that you might think it would be his own fault if they picked on him from among the large crowd. 

But I knew better. I knew this was not so. Blaming the victim has never been my thing. It is very popular among zebra crwods though, after each raid; irresopective of the statistics, of the solid fact tha hyenas must snatch one for this meal, the remaining zebras, after the dust of the chase has settled down, and they returned to grazing, must be remembering some trivial defects or faults of their kind who had the msifortune of being snatched today. His fault, they would say and since he or she and none other had been taken on this day, there was some pseudologic to the arguments blaming the victim that was not easy to refute. 

Naturally, by now I knew that all the talk blaming the victim is simply self-diversion from the subject of the hunter, the dangerous pursuit of zooming on the hunters, counting them and studying them. It is a dangerous thing to do and I bet even the chief of police in India dares not ask for alibi of the many secret service field opeartives in the area on the night a train is burned, with very strangly segregated passangers of one sect while passing through the rail station of another town with a majoirty from the other sect.

How many Belgian agents had been in the area at the time? How many Dutch agents? How many British agents that directly report to the Dynast from Hesse, father of the next king in theory? Same thing about the massacre of ruling house in Nepal. How many agents were there at the time and how many of them had training in strange chemicals that make crazy, unaccountable, berserk? I bet there are chemicals which if administered to an honest and serious president of the United States, he could be led in a phone conversation to say things very embarrassing when listened to soberly. Yet no investigator should dare to mention the possibility and ask for a list of  such chemicals developed in laboratories under cuckoo expertise of some Dr. Schumacher; be the lab in America or in Europe.

The Polish poet studied the hounds for a long time. Probably he was weighing whatever alternatives a hunted hare had against four hounds in service of the hunter who was not even visible yet and there was no knowing how many other teams of dogs he had beyond the limited horizon of the prey. 

We in the space orb knew better because we have been watching the process from the point of initiation in Pullach, headquarters of the spooks, to the point in Ingolstadt from where the command was given for the hunt; we had also witnessed on our monitors how two hunts had gone sour with teams of hounds already destroyed; we had seen how the ensuing chaos gave full employment to the forces of darkness, engaged them in a crisis, an emergency which made them forget those indignificant targets. Therefore, planet earth did not appear to us as a hopeless trap as it must have appeared for this Polish poet whose imaginary alternatives had probably all been considered and discarded during the previous months or years when he must have felt the foul breath of the spooks on his trail.

I thought maybe it was time we did something and I looked at the monks; but they were in no hurry. Obviously they did not consider the poet in immediate danger until such time he would get up and leave the Warsaw cafe. 

'How is your amateur radio transmission doing? Does it send yet? rom how far can we listen to it on our radios?' asked a friend of the poet.

'Is it short wave or FM?' asked another friend.

'Will you be doing all the talking?' asked a third friend.


The poet was not answering.

But then, like daring an invisible danger in a dark night, he leaned nearer to the table, held the empty cofffee cup in his hand as if it were a microphone and softly talked into it. He was like rehearsing a speech in a radio studio on air.

'This is Radio Free Poland... Listen Nemsky...' he said and glanced briefly at the hounds that belonged to a dark Medieval inn rather than a bright Warsaw coffee.

Then the poet changed his mind and discontinued the speech. Instead, helaid the coffee cup on the table and took something out of his pocket. It was an old fashioned audio casette. He gave it to the oldest of his friends and bowed his head. The friend silently and smoothly removed the dangerous thing out of sight into his own pocket. I think at this moment his eyes imperceptibly viewed the hounds; so he must be knwoig all the time what was bothering his friend and making him say all those things about hunters and prey, fear and courage. He also gave an dadmiring look to his friend and then turned his eyes down to the table cloth while nodding with his head as if to reassure his friend that he could be relied on.

The poet had lost all apetite for talk. He asked for leave to go and politely refused a friend that would leave with him. 

'I got some private business. Must go alone.'

I could see the poet was very unvilling to depart. The waiter appeared and took the money. The poet left the table.

I looked at the monks with some urgency because there was no more time to loose. All I could guess, the killer team might shoot the poet just outside the cafe. I assumed the killers would need less precautions in Poland than in their stem duchies where they must avoid all appearance of lawlessness. In Poland, they might commit any crime with impunity for as long as they were sure of protection by agents in high places. In the worst case they could allow themselves to be caught and removed away efficiently and deported to where they belong without any newspaper catching any authentic names or nationalities from the operation. The murdered victim would be made known as someone no good, most probably a drug addict and worse, a dealer of drugs. Another dissident might be framed for the crime. Naturally only those nearest to the victims would know the lie but there would be no public platform in visual or print media for them to speak out. The killers would be dispatched to somewhere distant, like to Venezueala or India where they would start fresh without risk of recognition on their usual errands. They might even be incorporated in some extrajudicial German-American spooky organization like Wackenhut Corporation and put in charge of protecting US Embassies in Kenya and Tanzania before fireworks.

The old monk nodded and the young monk pressed the button on the remote control. A buzzing wave spread inside the cafe. This time the wave must have been stronger than the previous case because many tables in thet Warsaw cafe reacted to it with hands chasing away a buzzing bug. 

The electronic action had happened at the right moment because the four killers were already moving out. All four of them chased away the invisible swarm of insects. This was a good sign for it showed that they were reached. But they continued towards the door all the same and left the place. I was worried for the poet because I could not be sure the killers were incapacitated sufficiently; since they managed to walk out as if nothing had happened to them, they might as easily be able to shoot the polish poet at the gate of Warsaw cafe from their auto. I looked at the monks with enxiety but they seemed very relaxed. The electronics monk realised my predicament and pointed at the monitor. The poet had changed his mind and returned to the table. Oh, good, I thought, he is safe yet a while and by the time he leaves, and hopefully our camera with him, we will have the opportunity to have another operation on those killers in case they are still fit to kill.

But to my surprise, the monks were paying attention to talk on other tables in the cafe. At first it was not easy to distinguish any speaker fro the background noise but soon I could do so. Maybe the audio signal was now being processed by the computer of space orb on the way from camera to speakers of the monitor. I could see that the poet too was listening with great fascination.

At a teable near the poet were two elderly persons. They had been there before ever since we got this cafe on the monitor. If they had been talking before, I had heard nothing. Now, we could hear clearly. 

'You will be satisfied with this gun. Made in Belgium. I am giving it so cheap because you are no stranger to me.' said the relatively younger of the two, who must be a gun smuggler.

'I would rateher have a Czech piece, said the older man.'

'Your decision' said the smuggler.

'But I have to confess something. You know I said I needed a gun for the house. it is not true. I need the gun to save my daughter from a house of ill repute in central Frankfurt, near the Central Station.'

'I know and I wish you luck,' said the smuggler. 'I got a photo of you and the licence plate of your car. I took it when you arrived here. Gave it to the Nivea distributor here who is a front for Grenzschutz. Probably already faxed it to the Border Checkpoint. Your car will be randomly picked for search from out of a hundred and they will find the gun. Bad lack.'

Then they were silent. All had been said that existed between them. Neither had anything more to confess.

On another table sat several young Chinese and a middle aged East German.

'Be ready at midnight. I will pick you when this cafe closes; I will take you to the green border crossing where there is no check point; where fox says good night to rabbits. On the other side you walk to the village light and there my colleague picks you up and into the last train.'

'I must confess something,' said one of the Chinese. 'You asked for our trades and I said I was a trained and experienced cook, but that is not true.'

'I know,' said the East German smuggler of humans, a proper  decendent of the slave traders of past centuries. A Tipi tipi probably with the first name of Hans.

'I am not a cook at all,' insisted the Chines, 'I am a qualified dentist.'

'I know, ' said the German smuggler, ' and you will be spotted on the broder by infrared vision and be picked up by the Hubschrauber... the helicopter, dropped straight into Polish territory again.'

'Better I return from here then,' said the chinese.

'Sure,' said the smuggler. 'The Reich has no need of dentists. Illegal construction workers and Cooks are needed in greater supply to fill the allocated quuota for the year. But not one dentist is to cross that broder. Such are our orders.'

The Chinese youth who was a dentist  left two others who were obviously really cooks to the smuggler and walked to the door. He stopped there, looked outside for a while and cried into the cafe without taking off from some horror scene outside the cafe. It might be something on the pavement or on the street. Our camera did not show beyond the door. Some people moved to the windows. The waiter was there before all the others. Eventually someone said;

'It is those four German Nemets beer drinkers. They have been shot in their own car.'

'What are four drunk German Nemec doing in a Mercedes outside a Warsaw cafe,' said an old Pole who must have lived through the second world war and probably concentration camps too.

'We heard no shots, did we?' asked another Pole.

'Those bloody spooks are allissued muffled guns with silencers. Assassins of the state.' said another Pole.

The poet listened to all these, looked at each speaker with affection of a brother or son, than raised his eyes slightly above to the glass through which a small patch of sky could be seen and remained in this position for some time like he was saying a prayer or thanking for a prayer come true.

Then the poet shook hands with his friends all of whom had remained seated while others were on windows and he left the cafe. Strangely enough no Pole had done so during all the commotion, all of them remaining inside as if they feared to be mixed in some criminal incident if they walked past that Mercedes in which were four dead criminals.

Our camera followed the poet to outside but instead of  following him further, it stayed targeted on the infamous car. I could not figure out how a preprogrammed subroutine could make the camere make such a choice. More probably it was the electronics monk who decided and pushed a button to that effect.  I appreciated the choice because once the poet was out of danger, there was not much of interest likely to happen wherever he was going. Probably he would keep a low profile for some time but I had a feeling we would see more of this enterprising Slav poet in the future.

'Take Care, Adam Bielak,...' I whispered. The monks must be sharing my sentiments because the way they showed no reaction at all indicated that they perfectly understood it. 

'... and my God protect Poland from evil Neighbor...' I added and then feeling tired, I sat down on the mid floor of the space orb with my back against the outer wall. I could see all the monitors on the opposide side of the spherical vessel but I was too tired to focus on any of  them. My eyelids became heavy with responsiblity.

	Elector of Saxony
	Dec 8, 2003
Saxony, Evil neighbor to Poland

When I opened my eyes, I could not tell if I slept nor for how long if so. The electronics monk was working at a console on the side which looked like the working place of a system administrator. Indeed, he had some source code on the huge flat monitor to the size of a house door laid on its longer side side. It was also curved so that the programmer could better see things on its sides. Obviously this monk knew a lot about the source code of the operation system for the bugging equipment dispatched from this space orb to any cooridinate point of planet earth to the accuracy of a phone booth or a window. Obviously the operating system had software to tap into the communications network of the planet, to trace signals from caller to receiver and even to identify the receiving coordinates according to an earth map.

Besides these, the operation system and the hardware which included tiny two gram Seike flying cameras in form of buzzing bugs, as light as small insects allowed for some manouver; a camera could be fixed on a moving target, a person or an auto and it stayed right behind the target outdoors or indoors. Besides deploying a camera to a coordinate point where a target would be located and followed, a camera could also drop a target and pick another from among the objects within its vision. I suppose this was achieved at sending of a signal from the space orb.

Then of course there was the frequency or electromagnetic wave that induced a confession hysteria; its effect was not the same on different people but then people did not suffer under similar pressures. The more intriguing and evil a person, the more explosive his reaction to confession hysteria. A decent father who was buying a gun to save his daughter from enemies of mankind had told a lie to the gun smuggler and he quietly confessed the truth at the slightest inducement. But those killer tams who were like barrels of stinking poisons, reacted more wildly, destabilized and as they have been trained to solve problems by shooting, and had never known punishment for such murders, when gone berserk against each other, they reverted to this simple solution and just shot each other with their muffled guns issued to them by their pirate state.

I thought about the manufacture of gun silencers. It is not as if these spooks use improvised pipes for mufflers. The material and equipment they use is most certainly standardized, knowing the mentality; it is most certainly manufactured subject ot very precise specifications; and it is all manufactured by companies licenced for the purpose. Now that I think of it, these factories are all in the German monarchies: Belgium, Holland, Norway, Denmark, Luxemburg, Monaco, Britain, Lichtenstein. And then three German states: germany, Austria, Switzerland. And then, companies under  German-American control. And then, German plantations in colonies of Britian: Canada, Australia, New Zealand. That is about the map of the German intrigue with its visible and hidden components. And it is from these places that all the land mines and all the assassin gun silencers have been deployed to all over the planet.

Naturally it is not easy for us to trace every land mine and every gun silencer and every bugging camera; but it is an easy thing to name the factories that made them all. There are countless organizations in central Europe against use of land mines. These have produced thousands of publications. In none of them can I find the names of manufacturers nor their addresses. And yet this is a culture obsessed with addresses. You want to travel on train at fare not more expensive than plane ticket for the same destination? You must get a rail card. To get this, you must give your address. Therefore I would think that any document produced against use of land mines on the planet should start with a list of the manufacturers. Nothing of the kind. The false humanitarians not only divert attention from the dozen or so oligopols who produce toys of destruction, but these campaigners against the mines collect signatures with addresses, of people who are against use of land mines; they even insist on having your address if you pointed at the importance of making known who the devils are who produce these things in the first place.


The space orb was divided into two half spheres. The floor I was standing on was the dividing plane. There were some stairs leading to the lower half which must be divided into living quarters. Indeed, the missing monks did come from below through the helical stairs. They looked refreshed. One of them brought with him a thermos and glasses. The drink turned out to be a nutritious tea that substituted food as well.

They all turned to the monitor showing the car outside Warsaw cafe. The scene was as I had left it before my eyes closed but the text did not say real time any more. Instead there was the date and the time and it was one day behind the present moment as I could compare it to the planetary time and date on the clock. I must have slept a whole day while the monks have supervised the monitoring system and the recording of events.

Now we would see a playback of the incident at Warsaw, speeding up where no interesting  conversation was until we would arrive at real time once again. We could not have missed much, I thought, because we knew of only three targets and all three had been saved. The first one was a reproter in Fulda, the second target was the black American Veteran of world war, and the third target was a Polish poet.

Now, the matter at hand would be to find out as much as possible about this devilish machinery that had started all past wars neither for war profits nor for land gain by military conquest but merely in order to hide the operaitons of usurper, the cuckoo acts, behind smoke screens that wars necessarily produced.

The electronics monk who was the system administrator of the space orb electronics looked at us to make sure we were all ready and then started the play back. 

The Mercedes with four dead killers in it stood parked outside the Warsaw cafe. No pedestrians on the pavement. A car or two passed in either direction. Eventually what must be a car of the Warsaw police did show up at leisurly pace. Two Poles in uniform got out and walked to the Mercedes. They were not much impressed at the four bodies but they admired the car for some time, walking around it. It might be four dead dogs as far as the Poles cared. Then one of them called on a radio phone. he gave the street and the building number.

'Ambulance and tow track! Doctor too, if you insist.' 

The monk speeded up the playback quickly going over a half hour during which nothing much happened around the car until the reinforcements arrived. Watch the doctor carefully, I told myself.

'The doctor' said one of the monks.

The four dead killers were transferred to the ambulance and the Mercedes was towed away. No other policemen had come to the cite of the incident. The original two stayed behind and filled some papers on the roof of their car. Then they walked into the cafe either to drink something or to look for witnesses.

Our camera stayed with the doctor outside. He had not even looked at the dead killers but he had paid some attention to the licence plate of their car. He walked to the phone booth and dialed a number. 

Instantly a new monitor at the right end of the bottom row went alive. Blinking text said:

'Dresden Coordinates X Y...'

The System administration must be editing the source code now and then to improve the presentation on the monitor. Soon, a communications room appeared on the latest monitor.

'Schloss Saxen...' said the communicator of a castle near Dresden.

The doctor gave a code and hang up. Then he walked to the police car parking outside the cafe, looked around for the policemen, reached inside the car and touched the horn button several times. He then stood there looking towards the cafe having no intention to go inside. The doctor from a Warsaw hospital, possibly coroner or whatever, had come in that ambulance but had stayed behind and made a call; a call, not to his hospital, not to any official of Polish government; this doctor whose job it was to show up on scenes of violent deaths, had called a castle near Dresden. Very mysterious doctor our good Poles have got there, I thought. Quite possibly the best qualified of the lot too among doctors of the General Government of Poland.

Eventually the two policemen came out and walked to the car. They got inside the car as if ignoring the doctor but then one of them reached to the back right door and opened it for the doctor to step in. It was obvious that the two native Poles did not like the doctor. We will drop you at the hospital, said one and they drew away. Our camera must have moved into the car with the doctor; obviously it was locked on this object now and would go to wherever the mysterious doctor went. That the doctor was an agent of an outside power was clear to me but all else was shrouded in darkness. He appeared to be a Pole: was he or was he not? He appeared to be trained to save lives: was he also trained to take lives? What was his rank in the occult cabal? What motivated him? Was he working for his own people beyond border or was he betraying his own people to paymasters beyond border? We would find out no doubt now that our tiny Seiko camera tailed him wherever he might go and whatever he might do. I wished he would attend some meeting with people of his organization pretty soon  so we get an idea on how deep inside Poland the alien creature has penetrated once more after it was in 1945supposed gone for ever.

The monks had lost interest in the doctor. They were keen on the communications room of Castle Saxen in Dresden.

The communicator who had listened to the code word from the doctor scribbled something on a paper and left the room in which he had been alone. Our camera had no difficulty in tailing him. This was another typical Neanderthal Albino. He entered a big hall through an opening that had no doors. There sat an elderly person in a uniform of some unknown army; it might also be a fancy uniform designed according to his own tastes and instructions to the tailor of this castle. There were lots of medals on his breasts, several of them in variations of Malta crosses.

'Have you got something important enough for the Elector of Saxony?' said the self-made general pointing at the piece of paper his errand boy held to him.

'Incident in Warsaw' said the Neanderthal errand boy.

'Ah, prince! You have something for the King of Poland then,' he said and looked toward a gardrobe full of different uniforms. he walked to the dark colored textiles and picked a uniform.

'My ancestor August the Strong, first German king to Poland, wore this uniform in 1696 on the day of coronation. So did his son August II wear this unifom on 1733 on coronation as king of Poland. He was king of Poland till 1763, the year in which both he and his heir died but by then Germany had Russia itself; with a German Czar on top of all Russians, there was no point in keeping Poland even under a German king. So, it was divided between three German Emperors: Berlin, Vienna and Petersburg; two women to delude the world: Catharina the Great von Anhalt Zerbst as Czarina of all Russians; Maria Theresia von Habsburg as Kaiserin of all Germans; and then Frederick the Great von Berlin who happened to be the biological father of Catharina...'

The Neanderthal prince suddenly fidgeted as if he was scared for his life. maybe these aliens took pleasure in revealing sensitive material to persons they intend to kill and possibly consume on the dinner table. So visible was the terror of the errand boy that the Elector of Saxony and King of Poland turned to look at the shaking wreck. He took the mesage paper from the trembling hand.

'Easy. You can go now. I will come to the communications room myself.' said the terrible general like a cannibal giving another day to his live meal kept in a cage.

	Vehmic Tribunals

	Dec 9, 2003

 Our Seiko camera stayed with the Duke and followed him to an underground cavern.

There were twelve hooded persons siting on a pedestal raised from the cavern floor. Each pointed hood hiding a coward head was adorned with two holes for the eyes to see through. There was a humanoid creature in seated position without a hood but with bonded limbs and a hooked rope, a hangman's halter, around the neck. A standing person, also hooded and cloaked, held the loose end of this rope. On entry of the Elector, this guardian stiffened to attention so suddenly that he pulled the rope in the process and the victim cried with anguish; poor creature was almost strangled.

The Elector inspected the many cobwebs hanging down from the high cavern ceiling. He admired the artwork of spiders for some time.

'As magnificient as Carlsbad caverns' said the Elector.

He walked to the hangman still at attention with the loose end of the rope tightly in his hand and expected an opinion from it.

The hooded vassal who must have terrorised many a hanging victim by inventing tortures worse than hanging to make his job a work of Gothic art, was now far from scaring anyone because he himself stood in awe of the terrible Elector to whom obviously his life and everything belonged. And probably he was no expert on the subject of cobwebs. But obviously the Elector thought otherwise and therefore stood nose to nose with the hangmen, determined to press a response.

'Jawohl, Kurfurst!'

'Jawohl what, you idiot?' said the Elector. 'Do you know where Carlsbad caverns are?'

'I have not been there, hoheit.'

'But you know where the Carlsbad caverns are?'

'In Karlsbad.'

The Elector moved away from the hangman and fixed his eyes on the bonded man from a safe distance. 

'I am in mood to forgive you for whatever it is you have done' said the duke and silenced a hooded jodge on the high pedestal who was about to protest.

The accused did not talk. Maybe his crime was beyond forgiveness. Maybe he was too confused or too excited at a chance of escape where he hoped none.

'The tongue?' asked the Elector to the coven of hooded judges.

'Is in place yet,' said the chief justice in hood.

'Speak, man! I am in a mind to forgive you for whatever it is you have done. I need these hooded fools who are the Vehmic Tribunals for my kingdom of Saxony, for an urgent errand in Warsaw.'

 The accused looked at the elector and at the panel of judges but said nothing.

'What has he done?' the duke asked the panel.

'He has done nothing yet.'

'Ah, that is different,' said the Elector. Even the Elector King of Saxony cannot forgive a person who faces the vehmic tribunals for having done nothing. Well then, hang him and be finished with it. I need the vehmic Tribunal to clean up some mass in Warsaw. I need the tribunal and its field aperatives to find out who made the mess in the first place.'

The accused fidgeted like he was about to say something.

'And grant him a last wish. We are not monsters here.' said the Elector. Then he turned to the accused agains. 'What is your last wish?'

The poor creature said nothing. The Elector put the question to the panel.

'Do you know what his last wish is?'

'We do, hoheit.'

'Hell, what is it? Something impossible?'

'Not at all.' said the chief justice. 'he wants to see parts of his body barbecued and eaten by the panel here before he is hanged.'

'Ah, like the vassal of Brandenburg who had to travel all the way to Hesse to fulfil this sacred wish. A specimen in the terminal stage of mutation, the highest stage of evolution. Grant his wish another time then. Away with him into the cell. This is no time for your recreation. We are in the process of modifying all the borders of all the nations, starting right here in Eastern Europe. Off with him and hoods off too.'

The hangman removed the bonds from the feet and raised the accused from the chair. They moved away towards a dark tunnel that must be leading to cells where many such persons might be.

'Wait a minute' said the Elector. The hangman returned and finding the Elector's eyes on the accused, he turned the creature to face the elector.

'Do you know where the Carlsbad Caverns are?' the Elector wanted to know from the accused.

'I have been there, hoheit,' said the prisoner. 'A group of caverns in southeastern New Mexico.'

'Not in Karlsbad, Germany?

 'No, hoheit. They are in Karlsbad caverns national park. There is world's largest cavern with spectacular underground formations.'

'But why are they called Karlsbad caverns?'

'This Karlsbad is a town in southeastern New Mexico on the Pecos River near the Mexican border; rich potash deposits.'

'Do you know the caverns in our Karlsbad?'

'I do hoheit. I have been there.'

'Why, the Holy Vehmic Tribunals of that duchy meet there. Were you brought before the Tribunals and acquitted?'

'Hoheit knows that no person may see a vehmic tribunal in session and go free.'

'How then?'

'I was one of the Vehmic Justices in Karlsbad.'

'Did you have many convicts who had this last wish?'

'Many, hoheit. It tastes no more after a while but increases the desire to...'

'I see, poor devil. Your wish will be granted, the Elector of Saxony and Occult king of Poland guarantees that. We are not monsters here and we respect last wishes.'

'I humbly thank you hoheit.'

The duke motioned to the hangman to remove the poor devil. In the meantime, the twelve justices of the Holy Vehm had removed their hoods; obnoxious creatures every one of them.

'Follow me,' said the Elector. We are off to claim our kingdom of Poland. Something has happened which may give me the pretext to get the crown that is my birth right.'

	End of Book TWO




	Book Three - Mad baron of Mongolia

    Source: geocities.com/touxxaint1