BOOK 3 - Mad Baron of Mongolia 


Tale of a bizzare heirloom, a Teutonic, Occult and Gothic pretension; Tale of His Excellency Chiang Chun Major-General Baron Roman Fyodorovich von Ungern-Sternberg who was king of Mongolia for ten months in 1921 before he was arrested, tried and executed.


	Contents

BOOK 3 - MAD BARON OF MONGOLIA	1
CONTENTS	1
CHAPTER 1- HACKERS OF DUCHY COBURG	2
Royal Porno Ring	2
Duke Coburg calls Elector of Saxony	4
1779 Reval Lodge	5
CHAPTER 2- BARON UNGERN-STERNBERG VON MONGOLIA	7
1920 Ungern-Sternberg von Mongolia	7
1700 Czar Pyotr Duped the Great	8
1757-63 War of Seven Years	9
1862 Livland -Teutonic Names Become Russian.	11
1761 Russified Names of Baltic Barons	13
1827 Navarino	14
2002 Opium from Afghanistan	15
1917 Russian Revolution	16
CHAPTER 3- SEVEN WORLD WARS	20
Middle Earth and Map of HIV	20
Sir Fitzroy McLean 1936 on Mongolia 1920	23
Books of McLean	24
CHAPTER 4- MAD BARON IN WORLD WIDE WEB	26
Enemies of Internet	26
James Bond McLean Exposes Mad Baron	30
CHAPTER 5- BISHOPS, BIBLES, KNAVES AND KNIGHTS	36
Electoral College of the Occult Reich	36
Many Bibles	44
CHAPTER 6-  HOW COLONEL HIROYAMA WAS TRAPPED	47
Alien Impersonators	48
Spanish Influenza	50
More of Mad Baron	53
Baron Sebottendorff	57
CHAPTER 7- TRAPPED IN BAVARIA	61
The Unknown Superior	61
True Genealogy of a Duke of Edinburgh	71
CHAPTER 8- LIFELINE INTO HADES	74
Carlos has Visitors	74
From Ingolstadt to Frankfurt	77
Hooded Judges of Vehmic Tribunals	80
CHAPTER 9- IN THE FANGS OF VEHMIC TRIBUNALS	85
The Interrogation	85
Dec 19, 2003 Friday	91
CHAPTER 10- ESCAPE FROM WESTPHALIA	101
Dec 20, 2003 Saturday	101
END OF BOOK 3	108





	Chapter 1- HACKERS OF DUCHY COBURG


	Royal Porno Ring


I thought we would now see the Elector of Saxony was conferring with his Vehmic Tribunal on how best to terrorise Poland; but the coven of an elector and twelve occult justices of the hooded order went through so many doors and so many securtiy checks that they shook off our Seiko camera in the process without knowing it. Eventually the camera came to rest ina dark room from which obviously it could not get out. We had lost the Elector for the time being, but I was not worried, since we had the coordinates of his lair near Dresden and we might dispatch another camera soon. To be frank, I did not think the Elector could pull of a quick trick to destabilise Poland right now. In fact I was pretty sure that Poland stood in no immediate peril; the Elector had a tendency towards the theatrical, towards Gothic Opera maybe.

In the meantime, we turned our attention to the monitor showing the Castle of Coburg. The Duke was leading someone through many Gothic passages. They entered a hall packed with electronics and consoles along the walls. In the middle however was a conference table with papers and printouts on it and a dozen young persons around it.

'We are now in the hackers’ hall of Duchy Coburg. This is the place from which war is being waged on international porno rings. Top hackers are in a meeting.' 

The duke and his guest stood nearer a wall and watched the conference.

Outer ring of hackers

'They discuss best ways of fighting porno on the net, to protect minors from indecent material. Tracking down is everything. Slavs of Eastern Europe are employed in this task. This is the outer ring of hackers.' explained the duke in whispers.

The chairman of this assemblage resumed the work before them; he must have assumed this to be wish of the duke.

‘Police force of Saxen-Anhalt conducted a successful operation against international porno rings. You have all watched the press conference, I suppose. The success is greatly due to the tracking we have been doing since a year. Our capability to track Internet access from fixed adobes of single users anywhere in Europe is highly developed. You have all contributed.

‘However, surfers from addresses where they are registered as residents and over phones registered to their names are but a small part of Internet users. The greater bulk of access is from Internet shops open to the public where people come and go.’

‘Gentlemen, I am pleased to announce that we are awarded a contract to develop the capacity to identify and photograph any user anywhere in the world. It is a big project and we are assured of the funds for many years to come.'

The dozen hackers sitting around the long table in the huge conference hall looked at each other uncomfortably. They were a mixed lot of Slavs and Latins. Dark hairs. The director, an albino who was also much older and longer than all the hackers, noticed the signals and paused for questions.

‘What exactly do we want?’ asked a Slav who might be from anywhere in Eastern Europe. Probably Bulgarian.

‘First, we want the photo of anyone who accesses a certain site from among many we will have on a list.’

‘What sort of sites?’ asked another who looked Latin.

‘Porno sites, of course. What else?’

‘Terrorist sites maybe?’

‘Ach so, they too, of course.’

‘Not political dissent sites?’

‘Of course not. Why should we? We are dissenters ourselves, nein?’

‘Why photo?’

‘Because our sponsors want it so. They are paying for it, aren’t they?’

‘Are they?’

‘Was meinen Sie damit?’

‚I mean, whose money is it anyway?’

‘I cannot tell you that.’

‘Then it must be drug money, mustn’t it?’

‘What makes you say that? Besides, why should drug people fight international porno rings?’

‘Come on, boss, none of us here is born yesterday. Any software that can track access to Porno sites can track access to any sites.’

‘What sites could interest drug people?’

‘You tell us, boss! Maybe dissenters who document Bush family connections to drug smuggling.’

‘Funny’

‘Cheese. May I take a picture of you, boss?’

At this, the long albino panicked.

‘Certainly not.’

‘Why not, boss? You think the camera may capture your soul or what?’

Youthful hackers laughed heartily at the confusion of their boss.

Inner ring of hackers

After the Slavs and Latins were gone to solve the tasks put before them as challenges, the Teutonic master race talked of the possibilities for tracking down dissent with the same techniques. To track down any person anywhere in China or Russia and get photo with identification and address immediately is immense task. Only way is to make use of local security. But then, there has to be a Teutonic infiltration. How to promote their man into each local network? Make him distinguish himself for the job. Provide a crime he can solve.

How to create a crime? Who will get caught? In the worst of cases, own people of course. In case some drugged native cannot be arranged.

Then they talked about a Mad baron of Mongolia:
Why is the page not on Geocities server anymore? How material is deleted. How servers are removed, building bought and demolished.

Then they talked about Scots being dangerous still. Then they talked about a particular Scot: Fitzroy McLean, the intrepid Scot prototype of James Bond.

Duke of Coburg left his guest in the hackers hall and returned to what might be his office. I did not notice if he rang a bell or pulled a chord but a monster appeared from many of the side doors and stood awaiting orders.

'Where do we stand regarding the incident in Erfurt?' asked the Duke.

Nosferatu of Coburg explained:

'My Duke of Coburg wished a meeting with Bavaria. The Elector King of Bavaria declined, referring to his more urgent business with elector of Saxony. This was a rebuke of course to my duke who is a vassal of the Elector King of Saxony and King of Poland. Our Secret Counciller met with Bavaria's in Ingolstadt but no progress could be made regarding background of the incident in our Duchy, in which a sonderkommando from Bavaria is involved. We still know not on what errand the boys were here and how they destabilised. We need this information and its source lies in highest altitudes of Bavaria. Now my Duke must lay his business with Bavaria before his liege who may or may not consent to a meeting on highest level with Bavaria.'

'Let Dresden know then.' said the duke in resignation as if he had had enough of Bavarian caprice.


	Duke Coburg calls Elector of Saxony


The Nosferatu proceeded to the communication room of Duchy Coburg and gave the code to contact the Elector of Saxony. 

As the call from Coburg was placed, the monitor that had darkened before revived in the space orb:

‘Receiving coordinates… Dresden…’

Another camera descends from space onto the receiving coordinates. I did not know enough about the monitoring system operated from this space orb and the monk who operated it was not talkative. Probably our previous camera was out of function for some reason, since the computer system of the space orb had allocated a new camera to the same monitor instead of activating another; for there was no lack of monitor on the inside surface of the huge shell that made the upper half of the spherical space orb.

Soon we were looking at another communications room of Elector of Saxony. A juvenile rat wass told the code that came through and he walked out with our camera following him. Soon we were watching another underground cavern in Dresden; Probably under some castle or high rise building. The juvenile rat showed himself and waited quietly until an old occult rat took notice and came to him. The juvenile spoke out the code and moved a step back. Our camera followed the old rat into the cavern.

It looked like the same Elector we had seen leave another cavern somewhere near Dresden with those Ku Klux Klan judges except he did not look like having such a business behind him a moment ago. Instead, he looked like in the middle of paperwork that might be going on since hours. I thought this might be a clone of the alien creature; someone related to the Elector of Saxony.

‘Hoheit, Duke of Coburg wishes an audience with the Elector of Saxony.’

‘The arrogant Coburg wishes to come to me, to his liege Lord. Well, well. Let him!’

I found that a little puzzling. This was Elector of Saxony just like the other one to whom he looked alike. Maybe there were two of them or even several. It might even be the very same person, though unlikely it appeared to me.

The Nosferatu walked back to the entrance and spoke out a numeral code which the juvenile repeated, waited a little to make sure there is nothing else and then turned around and disappeared. The Nosferatu walked back to the assembly. 

‘I cannot stand the arrogance of Coburg. He is only one duke among many of my Saxony. By his behavior, you might think he is the king and not I.’

‘He owns several kingdoms, hoheit.’

‘My vassal nevertheless. He holds those kingdoms in trust, by virtue of his being my vassal. Is that not so, baron Ungern-Sternberg?’

Indeed, there was another monster somewhere in the dark, who moved into open from a recess.

The baron was an overlong creature like the kidnapping aliens are depicted in science fiction of the last two decades. No chest, all limbs and very prominent bat ears.

‘Jawohl, hoheit.’

‘Your ancestors always knew their place in our machinery.’

‘But unlike the Coburg who once had kingdoms of Britain, Portugal, Mexico and Bulgaria, the line of Ungern-Sternberg never made a king, hoheit.’

‘You resent that, don’t you? So would I, my boy, but patience pays best. You have the title to kingdom of Mongolia yet.’

‘I doubt if I will get my birth right, the land being so close to China.’

‘Never despair. One of your kin was governor general of central Asia from 1867 onwards.’

‘Herr Kaufman was from an illegitimate branch of our line.’

‘Nevertheless. And another of your illustrious uncles actually ruled Mongolia.’

‘For less than a year, Hoheit.’


	1779 Reval Lodge


‘Those were troubled times. But tell me about the grand father of our mad baron of Mongolia.’

'Freiherr von Ungern-Sternberg was master of stool to the Lodge of Isis in Reval.’

‘When was that? Shortly after 1773 when we lost our Jesuit armies and before 1789 when we were preparing the French Revolution to revenge that loss, I suppose.’

‘Yes, hoheit. The lodge was formed in 1779 and my ancestor became its master in the year 1784.’

‘Tell me about the lodges of Isis that came to fill the vacuum left by the Jesuit divisions.’

‘Elector of Saxony, your ancestor, was the grand master, hoheit.’

‘I know. We called them Egyptian lodges. We needed a higher command network before an all out attack on France. New budget, new network.’

‘But they were never traced to Saxony, hoheit.’

‘That is always the idea. Just like the Jesuits were never linked to us. If there be not enough Bask names, then there are enough Sassoni embedded in Italy. In three generations, names change beyond recognition. from Saxony, Sassoni becomes Giuseppe Balsamo von Palermo, 1743-1795 who in turn becomes umstrittene Graf Cagliostro. Long before a Frenchman comes up with the idea of a fictional count of Monte Christi, we have been actually doing it. Let our very own Italian, made in Germany, make an appearance in Lyon 1784 while we are organizing a new lodge there. Though a reliable vassal of ours, the Graf is never told who is actually who. His job is to travel so that if something leaks, it was his work and not ours.’

‘But Hoheit, Reval on the Baltic sea is so far from France.’

‘That is caution. I have to control all the way from Mexico to Madagascar before I can make a bid for France. A year after Lyon, an Egyptian lodge is founded in Paris.’

‘1785. The false Graf got himself arrested and put into the Bastille.’

‘Just for one year. The necklace affair, you know, was to cover up the contacts of our underground with the queen of France.’

‘Marie Habsburg.’

‘Better say Marie Antoinette so none connects the destruction of Bourbons to Germans. In 1780, the Graf is in Warsaw, just when we found the Lodge of Isis there. Secret messages are written in script of Pharaonic Egypt and this is long before any Frenchman can read it.’

‘It is regretful that a copy made from the Rosetta stone got back into France.’

‘Cannot control everything. Who would guess that wily Fourier hid a copy from our British lodge?’

‘But it was a violation of the treaty of Alexandria.’

‘We do not hold an absolute monopoly over dishonesty, you ought to know. Native Latins and Slavs are capable too. Though not very many of them and not as dedicatedly as we. They can do it once in a while like some bird can swim underwater for a short duration. We do it all the time like fish in the water.’

‘Very wise, hoheit.’

‘Before Poland, the Graf from Italy was in the Baltic city of Reval.’

‘That is 1779 when my grandfather formed the lodge of Isis there. In 1780 lodges of Isis were founded in Strasbourg and Basel too. And again, the Graf was there when it happened. That ought to mislead all researchers into our lodges. They were work of an Italian imposter, a nonexistent Graf Cagliostro, plain and simple.’ 

‘In 1789, we moved against France. Thanks to the German Queen in Paris, it was a simple walk over. We had a very sound program too. John Adams with the lodges in America would keep the United States out of the affair. George III of Hanover ruling Britain would just stand back and enjoy his revenge for loss of the thirteen duchies in America. Reign of terror for which our lodges were the infrastructure would behead all literate Frenchmen. Marquis von Sade would come out of the prison of Bastille and like all of our fifth column in France, chair a tribunal to behead the elite of France. Our ex-Jesuit divisions were of course the primary party to settle their account with the Bourbons. They had to quickly reconquer the Latin lands before the wide world realized something fishy in Prussian and Russian support for the fanatically Catholic padres.’

‘The Jesuits would cease to be useful if their German ethnicity was revealed of course.’

‘Exactly. Prussia made a big mistake then which Austria did not make. It should be the other way around; Catholic Austria should challenge the bull of the Pope and protect the Jesuits in the Reich. Instead, in the panic of the moment, Catholic Austria pretended to expel them while Lutheran Prussia openly protected them. Austria had to appear on the side of Latins so it could penetrate the palace in Paris; in the process, a Habsburg bride was placed there, you know, and with her capable doctors fromVienna, Louis XV was poxed.’

‘If noticed widely that Orthodox and Lutheran Kaisers of Prussia and Russia, both Germans, provided refuge and support for the Jesuits, that would bring suspicion on the Catholicism of the Jesuits and confirm the Bourbon sentence on the padres - as an alien fifth column among the Latins.’

‘Add to this the other mistake of openly recruiting Germans for Jesuit missions of Latin America.’

‘Why the deviation from the safe practice of using the Sassoni with an Italian or Bask tarnish?’

‘Overconfidence after usurpation of Britain by Hanover led to this mistake.’

‘Loss of Spain to the Bourbons too, which happened in the same year of 1714.’


	Chapter 2- BARON UNGERN-STERNBERG VON MONGOLIA


	1920 Ungern-Sternberg von Mongolia


‘Baron Ungern-Sternberg, now to the business that brings you to me.’

‘Hoheit, you wanted to see me on a matter of titles.’

‘My boy, I wanted to know if your claim to the kingdom of Mongolia is challenged.’

‘Not as far as I know.’

‘Your title is unchallenged. I had it checked out in our archive in Gotha. Our vassal Soros is preparing the ground for restoration of monarchy soon. By way of Non-Governmental Organizations, you know; foundations of the next order. Now tell me more about your birth right, the kingdom to which you inherit the title from the mad baron of Mongolia. He was quite mad, you know. If you are half as mad, my boy, the kingdom is yours very soon.’

‘Hoheit, it is the Outer Mongolia I claim as my heirloom; my fief is what they call republic of Mongolia. Not included in my birth right is the inner Mongolia which is part of China for the time being.’

‘If we could first make them separate themselves from China, then by the time the German Czar is restored to Russia, a German king could easily be installed in inner Mongolia too. But tell me more about your part of that realm.’

‘Hoheit, my Mongolia is one and a half million square kilometers.’

‘Don’t you say, my boy. That is five times Germany.’


‘So it is hoheit.’

‘The realm of Governor Kaufmann in central Asia was as large?’

‘It was, hoheit.’

‘Together, that is ten times Germany. My boy, a bright feature awaits the house of Ungern-Sternberg. But I guess your cousin renown for her aptitude in interpreting dreams has already told you that.’

‘Dr. Olga von Ungern-Sternberg cannot dream what deeds of landed estate your archives contain in Gotha; though she was trained by Jung and also boasts of acquiring all wisdom of a Shaman called Black Horse. 


	1700 Czar Pyotr Duped the Great


Martha Freifrau von Ungern-Sternberg alias Czarina Catherine I


‘Baron Ungern-Stenberg, the only recognized claimant to the kingdom of Mongolia, tell me about the antiquities of your House.’

‘There was Martha Freifrau von Ungern-Sternberg who became the first German Czarina of all Russians; Lutheran Martha of Marienburg became Orthodox Catherina I, the key that opened the door to the East.’

‘How was it done?’

‘According to the textbook, hoheit.’

‘It is an irony of book keeping, is it not, Baron, that the record kept against us serves us better.’

‘Hoheit?’

‘I refer to the Book of Esther.’

‘I understand.’

‘You do, of course, for it is about the antiquities of our Teutonic Order; but does any living Hebrew scholar really understand it? It is a long time since one of them saw through pattern of usurpations and recorded it as a warning to all the target nations. What becomes of that record after none is left among them to understand it? It becomes a testimony, a confession of the Hebrews to their own crime. The crime they warn nations against becomes theirs to rue or to celebrate depending on reigning degree of stupidity progressing with each generation., Poison Ivy becomes herb of grace in confused memories.’

‘How was it done, hoheit?’

‘My boy, it was not just a random thing for Graf Castigliore to assume the title of Great Kopta and teach rites of Egypt in lodges of Memphis all over central Europe.’

‘Hoheit?’

‘Imagine the book of Esther edited in a few details: let it be called the book of Martha Freifrau von Ungern-Sternberg; or Martha von Marienburg on the Baltic; or Martha von Rhine-Nile. Let Mordechai be the Lutheran bishop of Marienburg in Prussia. Let Ahasver be Pyotr the Great of Russians. How does it look then, the text of that book?’

‘It defines the things done to Russia by the Teutonic Order.’

‘And what is the geography of the Teutonic Order?’

‘Prussia.’

‘Jerusalem and the Baltic, my boy. And why so far apart two locations?’

‘I would not know, hoheit.’

‘Just so. And so it should remain. There are things none ought to know except we, the electors of the Holy Romani Germani Reich. This is the main function of all occult gradations in the lodges of all names and denominations adorning the sub-surface of this planet.’

‘I know this well, hoheit. Only the unknown superior is privy to the deepest secrets of our holy race.’

	1757-63 War of Seven Years

‘My boy, tell me about your great grand sire of the seven years war.’

‘In March 1757, the German King of Sweden dispatched Field-Marshall Ungern-Sternberg with a force of about 14,500 men to Stralsund, the fortified capital of Swedish Pomerania. It was naturally a force of Vikings under command of German Officers. The field army (probably about 12,000 men) advanced to besiege the Prussian town of Stettin, at the mouth of the Oder, but were rapidly driven off by a Prussian army under Marshall Lehwaldt (the ""Ostpreussische Armee"" consisting of 19,800 infantry, 7,000 cavalry and 20 field guns). The Swedes retreated north-west towards Stralsund, abandoning the towns and armouries of Usedom, Wolin, Anklam, Demmin and Greifswald in their flight. By late December, Ungern-Sternberg was holed up in Stralsund and Ruegen Island by a numerically inferior force with extended supply lines.’

‘King of Sweden in 1757 was German.’

‘Yes, hoheit. And the Vikings sent to war war potential rebels against xenocracy, foreign rule as the natives whisper it in terror of being overheard.’

‘But he not a vassal of Saxony.’

‘No, hoheit. Adolf Friedrich, king of Sweden from 1751 to 1771 was a vassal of the Duchy Holstein-Gottorp. His house provided four kings to Sweden until 1818.’

‘And then the Latin usurper became king of Sweden.’

‘House Bernadotte have the job since then. The present king is the seventh of that house.’

‘Four of them were fools enough to have German queens and yet, and yet!’

‘Hoheit?’

‘The superstitious French kept out the German doctors and midwives. Josephine Beauharnais is their grand mother; that is where they got the Martinique superstition from.’

‘Hoheit?’

‘Never you mind except this much: we are up against superstition in high places; black African folk humbug: beware of a German doctor! What evidence has an old African fortune teller in the French colony of Martinique got in order to tell Josephine such a thing?’

‘Hoheit?’

‘Ungrateful foolish planet does not make it easy for us to civilize it.’

‘Doubtless, hoheit. It is the burden of the Master race.’

‘I hate that word, race. It makes the African ape appear my next of kin. I tell you, we are not the chosen race; we are the one and only master species.’

‘But hoheit, with all the intermarriages…’

‘Never! Never! Never!’

‘But Hoheit…’

‘Never intermarriage between species.’

‘But hoheit, if Charles I of Britain was a son of Anne of Denmark…’

‘Then we would not axe his head, would we?’

‘Hoheit, I thought…’

‘You thought! A thinking Baron…’

‘Allow me hoheit…’

‘To go and become a Buddhist king of Mongolia, I will allow you, nay, I will make it happen.’

‘What I wanted to say was…’

‘Charles I Stuart was an abomination. He was not supposed to become king at all. An accident happened and ruined our plan: Yellow Fever.’

‘Fever…’

‘Yes, we must resist unseen enemy too. Yellow fever killed Henry, the first son of Anne of Denmark but no kin to James I Stuart. That made the second son, an abomination, to become the king.’

‘But I do not understand the difference if both were sons of Anne of Denmark.’

‘Charles, the second son to Anne Oldenburg, was fathered by the Scotsman James I.’

‘That would make him an abomination, I quiet understand that. But was not Henry, the first son of Anne Oldenburg likewise fathered by the same James I?’

‘Of course not, you fool of a Baron. What is the point of providing a queen to the Scots with three hundred doctors in the tow, if a savage highlander is allowed to father the next king?’

‘Hoheit?’

‘The whole point of providing the doctors with the queen is to make sure the abomination born of mixed species is swapped with a baby of pure master species to become the next king.’

‘I see.’

‘You see! A seeing baron. Well never mind. Of course you saw it all the time, instinctively, only you had no words for it. Lets talk about your grand sire the general of Sweden in the Seven Years war, shall we?’

‘As I said…’

‘His occult job was not to defeat Prussia for Sweden but to bleed Sweden so that there would be no rebellion for some generations to come.’

‘I know that well hoheit, as a descendent of a long line of German generals for both sides of the Great Nordic War; for both Sweden and Russia.’


	1862 Livland -Teutonic Names Become Russian.


‘My boy, I have here a register of the Livland government of 1862.’

‘My house was well represented in that government, hoheit.’

‘I can see that it was.’ said the Elector with irony.

‚Präsident Se. Excell. der Hr. wirkl. SRR R. Baron Ungern-Sternberg’

‚president of Livland?’ asked the Elector as if he knew the answer already.

‘No, just president of the Hofgericht. Then there was Consist.-Ass. Reinhold Baron Ungern-Sternberg.’

'What was he?' asked the Elector as if these ranks were not very distinguished.

‚Assistant to assessor of Landrat. Then there is a Baron Ungern-Sternberg in the supplies commission.’

‘Permanent member, I suppose.’ said the Elector underlining the importance of this position.
 
‘That is right. Then there was Weltl. Assessor: Bar. Ungern-Sternberg.’

'Oh, that is an important post.'

‚It was, hoheit; of the Evangelisch-Lutherisches Provinzial-Consistorium.
(An Ein Hochwürdiges Livländisches.)’

'More?'

‚ then Paul Baron Ungern-Sternberg zu Errestfer.’

'Oh, yes.' said the Elector as if bored.

‚He was of Landraths-Collegium’

‘HRR Exe. CAR Baron W.Ungern-Sternberg.'

'What was he?'

‚Younger member of the Customs and duties office.’

'That is important too. Who else?' asked the Elector with great effort.

‚ Rathsherr W.L.Sternberg.’

'Chief of police, was he?'

‚Fourth Rat Herr to chief of police Klein.’

'Klein! I bet he was Coburg. It was Coburg displaced the Irish from positions of chiefs of police in America, you know. For as long as the Irish were the cops it was not possible to have an elegant lynch party in our overseas duchies.' said the Elector like he wanted to change to more pleasent subjects.

‚the same Rathsherr W.L.Sternberg was Deputy to Vorsitzer, Obervogt R.Hehn of Police Court.’

‘and nothing else?' asked the Elector as if those two jobs simultaneously were no big deal for a member of the house that claimed Mongolia as its feudal fief.

‘He was also second Steuerherr for Steuer-Verwaltung and  second Brandherr to Brand-Collegium.’

‚Second man in both tax office and fire fighting!’ appreciated the Elector.

'Hoheit...' said the Baron while deciding if this was a compliment or not.

‚Not very prominent, don’t you agree? But of course the House of Ungern-Sternberg had important work in occult lodges; more important than administration of Livland under the German Czars.’

‘Hoheit knows best.’


	1761 Russified Names of Baltic Barons


‘My boy, your uncle the mad baron did an important job; elimination of the elite in Mongolia; mad bad blood on the border to China, and more. But one mistake happened in that project.’

‘I know hoheit, he was exposed as German.’

‘My boy, success of sanguine operations lies in their being done under another flag. And when done under the banner of the Reich or with exposed identity of a German Baron, then no witness to genocide must escape to tell the tale. Witness absence of Auschwitz in the American and British press. That is the way these things must be done.’

‘But hoheit, Auschwitz was exposed as no other project of the Reich in a thousand years.’

‘Accidents happen. Nothing would come out in the Western press had Russia not recovered after Stalingrad. It was a fair bet they would not, considering the elite of Russia was removed in advance, to soften the land for our offensive. Tell me how so many of your house remained deep within the Russian organs after the German Czar was no more. Tell me about change of names first. What happens to all the Ottos of our Baltic barons when they are deep inside the Russian government party? Baltic Baron General Wrangel might succeed in restoring a German as Czar after 1917 if he had a Russian sounding name. What is in a name, says a fool but we know by experience that name makes all the difference. Natives judge things and parties by nothing else.’

‘Oh, there is a complete table of name conversions for Russia. Hoheit.’

‘Give me some examples. What happens to a Heinrich Johann in Russia after the revolution?’

‘Every Heinrich becomes an Andrei, Hoheit, and enters service in the state security apparatus. The more hatred against the alien people of an alien czars, the more dictatorial the native regime becomes and the more native elite can a Heinrich become Andrei destroy until the day of reckoning comes.’

‘Excellent! Another Heinrich alias Andrei becomes a political commissar going after the best officers of the Russian Army, to eliminate them all before the Reich Offensive. What happens to each Magnus Friedrich?’

 ‚Every German of the name Magnus becomes Maksim in Russia.’

‘But not Maxim Gorky?’

‘No, hoheit! He was native Russian and he almost saw too much. Had to be poisoned at great risk to our hidden network.’

‘Well, if not his death in 1936 then certainly the rumors around it in 1953 almost exposed our gigantic underground among the Slavs. I say almost, for, we managed to divert the unfounded suspicions to the Jews around which no investigation could reach anywhere. But had the Russians put their mind to investigate for German ethnicity of all executioners of their elite, prison doctors to start with, it would be over and out for us in Asia for a thousand years to come. You would have to say 'to the devil' to your crown of Mongolia.’

‘Architect of Universe beware us from such a disaster.’

‘Lucy in the sky certainly kept his pledge to our chosen race. And Lucy in the sky proved stronger than idols of Old and New testaments.’

‘Hoheit?’

‘Never mind, theology is not your strong point, Winston.’

‘Hoheit? Are you all right?’

‘Never better, my boy. What happens to an Otto Johann in Russia?’

‘He becomes Anton.’

‘And Georg?’

‘Egor.’

‘Leonhard?’

‘Lew.’

(6) George Gustav, Born ... 1757, Died ... .
Married: Christina Amalia Agatha v. Ungern-Sternberg, Born 1757, Died 9.3.1789, Buried in Flemmingshof, Daughter of Magnus Ernst v. Ungern-Sternberg and Juliana v.d. Osten gen. Sacken a.d. Sassmacken (Kurland). Date and place of the marriage: Goldingen, 20.3.1778.

Sigismund Louis (Ludwig) Gustave [Russ. = Loggin] Heyden (Born 25.8.1772 in Hague, Died 16.10.1850 in Reval, commander-in-chief of the Russian squadron in Battle of Navarino (8.10.1827), Vice-Admiral (since 9.11.1827) and Admiral (since 6.12.1834)

‘Sigismund Ludwig Gustave?’

‘Becomes Loggin in Russia, Louis in France, Lewis in England.’


	1827 Navarino

‘Sigismund Louis (Ludwig) Gustave [Russ. = Loggin] Heyden (Born 25.8.1772 in Hague, Died 16.10.1850 in Reval… what can you tell me about this German from Livland?’

‘Commander-in-chief of the Russian squadron in Battle of Navarino…’

‘1827 October 8.’

‘Vice-Admiral of Russian Navy…’

‘From 9.11.1827.’

‘Admiral of Russian Navy…’

‘From 6.12.1834. You see, my boy, that was a command post according to the book. A German Admiral under Russian flag, another German Admiral under British flag and several other German admirals under several other European flags, combine their forces and destroy the Mediterranean Navy of the United States of Asia. This opens the way to cessation of each Balkan nation in turn to be put under a German king. And yet, in aftermath of Navarino, Asia has reason to be hostile to all Latins and to all Slavs but has no reason to be hostile to the German Reich.  The success of such operations depends on secrecy of German origin of all those officers and ministers behind the operation. Even later when one Balkan nation after the other is put under German kings, Asia cannot go back and reexamine the ethnic biographies of their enemy at Navarino. And when later the Reich assaults on the Latin and the Slav, the Catholic, the Orthodox and the Jew, Asia must think this is the enemy of my enemy. Now that is a project Machiavelli could not imagine.’

‘Hoheit knows best.’

‚Now let us look at the project in Mongolia of 1920. There, the Baron was exposed as German. This at once brings two problems with it. First, you cannot maintain yourself as king so far away from stem duchies if you are publicly exposed to be German.’

‘But Hoheit, if it works in Latin America, why should it not work in Mongolia?’

‘It does and it does not. Back in 1867, we thought likewise and we were proved wrong.’

‘Hoheit wrong! Impossible.’

‘My grand father, Elector-King of Saxony made the mistake of overestimating Hesse. We lost Mexico because Hesse lost the Civil War in America. We gave Alaska to the United States just to delay armaments to the Mexican terrorists. It did not help. We lost Mexico to terrorists for a long time to come; and this, because hesse lost the United States to the terrorists of Lincoln.’

‘That time is come, I understand, hoheit.’

‘Not yet. Younger scion of the Duke of Coburg is having some fun in Ciudad Juarez, that is all. The boy is in an adrenalin rush, challenging the law enforcement capacities of both Mexico and the United States at the same time; taking revenge on Zapotec Indian girls for the sufferings of Charlotte Coburg, empress of all Mexicans. It was a Zapotec president of Mexicans, benito Juarez, who defeated and executed our Maximilian Habsburg, you know. But I doubt if the Coburg Junge can escalate the terror to the pitch necessary for usurpation. Not until a major conflict quarters the might of America and brings it on its knees to Frankfurt begging for credit. But these are no concern of yours.’


	2002 Opium from Afghanistan

‘Hoheit, there is the issue of revenues from Afghanistan.’

‘Your share from the opium is allocated.’

‘But I receive nothing.’

‘Let me see: the biggest share goes to my vassal duke of Coburg. He divides his share among Coburgs of Belgium, Bulgaria and Portugal. The second share goes to the cadet line of Hesse, the Hauke-Battenberg now renamed Windsor, that provided the last Vice-King of India in 1947. The third share goes to Hohenzollern because they are now the rightful claimants to the throne of Russia. The Holy Vehm gets a tenth of course. A tenth of the revenue is for your house, as future kings of Mongolia; your share is given in trust to a hedge fund under management of my vassal Soros. Your share is being used exclusively to prepare the field for your reign in Mongolia. You can rest assured that it is being managed in the most efficient way.’

‘If you say so, hoheit.’

‘The Holy Fehme, the Vehmic Tribunals, has the responsibility of suppressing the news of opium from Afghanistan; this is done through the lodges of Masons, Rose-cross, Opus Dei, Jesuits, Huguenots, Templars, and of course Illuminati all of which the Vehm supervises. It is a tricky job to keep out of the press that under American invasion, with huge armed German peacekeeping presence, Opium is reintroduced into fields of Afghanistan. Three quarters of America would cry shame if it leaked through any prominent news channel. The contrary is to be reported incessantly; that the hated regime of Taliban, and never give translation of that word to the stupid Americans, is to be identified with opium. None is to report that it was the opposite, that the ousted regime had completely eliminated the poppy cultivation.’

'An unforgiveable sin!'

'A major obstruction to the march of Germanic civilization.'

‘It is a huge fortune, Hoheit. Can it flow for long while both Russia and China watch? For, even if never reported, surely the native statesmen of those two Asiatic powers know the situation.’

‘They have to be diverted. But we are running out of credible diversions. There is urgency here... and the urgency caused premature release of SARS. A big mistake Hesse made. My boy, we all must pay for the mistakes of clumsy Hesse. Happens all the time. You never met the elector of Hesse, is that right?’

‘Hoheit knows I am not allowed to unless hoheit orders it.’

‘Good boy. But that does not mean Hesse is not spying on me.’

‘Hoheit?’

‘Never trust a Hessian.’

‘If Hoheit says so.’

‘In the year 2002 Opium worth two billion dollars was exported from Afghanistan under supervision of peace keeping force from several German kingdoms of NATO. That is the meager amount the farmers get. Market value on streets of America is 200 billion dollars. Your share being ten percent is 20 billion dollars every year. In the capable hands of our NGOs in Central Asia, that amount ought to be enough to destabilize the border regions of China until the time Hesse releases SARS II. My boy, you may come to your kingdom sooner than you dream.’

‘I humbly thank you, hoheit.’


	1917 Russian Revolution

 ‘My boy, there are things a future king of Mongolia ought to be told. None other than one of the twelve German Electors can tell them; a king from Germany to savages is always a vassal of his German duke who is a vassal of his German Elector. I will tell you some secrets now and others when your kingdom come.’

‘I am all ears, hoheit.’

‘Very true! And long limbs too.’

‘I hope hoheit finds me not of little chest and head.’

‘Certainly not. Cattle have their marks of beauty and we ours. And Slavs are no better than cattle. Now my boy, why do you think the Russians could depose their German Czar?’

‘Hoheit, they could not for 150 years.’

‘Yes but why they could do it in that February of 1917?’

‘You mean because of the strain put on them during the World war.’

‘Yes, hoheit.’

‘What kind of strain was it? That they were losing the war?’

‘Hoheit, the Russians lost ten million lives of their young men before they revolted.’

‘You find that a reason for 190 million cattle to depose their rightful German Czar? Should the next herd of sheep depose their reightful hound just because several previous herds are delivered to slaughterhouse?’

‘Russia was 190 millions when it was brought into the war of 1914. There were ten million less three years later when they said enough.’

‘But don’t you see a paradox here? A continental herd of cattle rebels only after the strongest ten million are slaughtered. You think the carnage a cause of their revolution. Would they not revolt more probably had we not bled them? It is the opposite; I say they were not bled enough, that is why.’

‘But hoheit…’

‘Though you have a point. Ten million lives ought to be enough to cow a continent, to overcome a big nation by affecting it with a feeling of awe, for a generation or two. But why did it not work?’

‘Rasputin…’

‘Please do not tell me you are fooled by Hesse like everyone else.’

‘Uhm…’

‘Yes, yes. Hesse underestimates the intelligence of even cattle. Cost us dearly.’

‘But hoheit it is rumored that Hesse puts the responsibility on Saxe-Coburg.’

‘I have heard that one. Hesse proclaimed it in the assembly of electors in November of 1918 when we all had to abdicate under dictation of Woodrow Wilson, the horrible Scot. But then Hesse had to withdraw the accusation.’

‘Yes…’

‘Before 1914, Hesse had expressed doubts on the timing of a World War. But then, when the Electors moved to vote, Hesse did not veto. And then, after the war, which went according to plan except for the loss of Russia, Hesse recalled those half-hearted objections to make a case against Coburg. It is Hesse all over again. Rebuked by the electors and the Kaiser, Hesse eventually agreed to share responsibility and costs for the loss of Russia.’

‘I understand.’

‘The main objectives of the war of 1914 were three: to break the Latins into German Duchies; to open up the Levant for new German fiefs; to bleed the Slavs all of which had German kings so that they would not think of rebellion till the One World reich come. All justified objectives of the Reich; legitimate objectives which even Hesse could not and cannot seriously oppose.’

‘Yes hoheit…’

‚Naturally, by 1918, the Slavs were bled but obviously not enough and therefore Russia threw off its German Czar; but Bulgaria, Greece, Rumania remained under German kings thanks to the loss of rebellious blood. The Latins were not broken enough to accept German dukes for their kings. The Levant was opened but no German could be installed as king except Maxime Weygand-Coburg over Syria. Even this would not be possible, had his German lineage been known to France or to Syria.’

‘When did France find this out, hoheit?’

‘Never yet. The last dissident who knew it was a Mexican. Now, tell me if you can think of a way we might keep Russia, that is keep the German Czar in his place, all else being what it was from August 1914 to February of 1917.’

‘If my uncle the mad baron were to establish himself in Mongolia, he might then march on Moscow and restore the German Monarchy to power.’

‘His Excellency Chiang Chun Major-General Baron Roman Fyodorovich von Ungern-Sternberg…’

‘My illustrious uncle.’

‘Ruler of Mongolia from October 1920 to August 1921. King of ten months...’

‘Arrested, tried in one of their show trials, and treacherously shot by the Red Army Mongols on September 11, 1921.’

‘My boy, your uncle had the weakest of forces among the dozen so called White Russian generals who fought for restoration of the German Czar. What is more, he was the only one exposed as ethnic German. Kolchak had more chance of victory over Moscow, yet he too failed, and in no little degree because of the hatred your uncle provoked in the passive populations of Mongolia, Manchuria and Siberia.’

‘I am sorry to hear that.’

‘Never mind that now. I will tell you the one factor we underestimated when the plan was approved to drive the ten million educated Russian males to the front and slaughter them. I will say it in one word: women!’

‘Hoheit?’

‘Yes, Slav women did the revolution of February 1917. Take my word on this and tell me what might be done earlier to prevent that revolution.’

‘To recruit women too into the army?’

‘Exactly and file them in their millions in East Prussia for the German machine guns.’

‘But hoheit, was such a thing practicable at the time? I mean there was no word of emancipation and equality in the air. Could it be done all the same?’

‘Why not? And then Germany could condemn Russia for having done it! Double gain.’

‘But what if some American journalist would say it is the German Czar doing this to Russians?’

‘My boy, much more than that depended and still depends on not one American Journalist reporting such a thing. Hesse is in charge of that which gives me the creeps but so far we are not let down on the point of news regulation.’

‘But surely there were other means of eliminating ten million Russian women during that war.’

‘Ahha. Sure there was the small pox, though its coverage limited because old Slav women had no respect for law and ban; they secretly inoculated villagers even though it was banned by decrees of Catherina von Anhalt-Zerbst. But still, it would not do to eliminate a number of women equal to the men killed on the German front. It had to be the next of kin of those precise men sent out without munitions.’

‘But surely the fiancées could not know that their men were sent to die without munitions. All post office masters of Russia were Germans just like the wartime prime minister of Russia Baron Sturmer was a German; censor on letters from soldiers to family was perfected to state of the Prussian art.’

‘For each ten thousand machine-gunned in Prussia, one escaped and never reported back to his divisional headquarters.’

‘Deserters! I hate them.’

‘That is how, young wives and fiancées got the news from the front. And of course they instantly connected the project to the Germanness of the Czar.’

‘But in 150 years of German rule over Russia, this was never printed, and beggar orders constantly scanned the Russian landscape to smoke out and poison any who would spread the rumor. How could the widows suddenly know it?’

‘Beats the reason, but who said the Slavs are a reasonable race?’

‘Animal instincts - very dangerous.’

‘It is their illiterates, you know. Because they cannot or do not read, they assume the truth is written somewhere. How can you demonstrate to an illiterate widow of a Russian front soldier that in no Russian Library there exists any page saying that the Czar is German? They just assumed it is as sure as the bible.’ 

‘Blessed be the educated of the Slavs. Without them, there could be no usurpation; without the educated party among the natives, there could be no German king over Bulgaria, Rumania, Greece, Russia.’

‘That is a keen observation, my boy. That is another thing a future German king of Mongolia ought to know. Do not massacre the all of the native elite but only half, and you know which half.'

‘The ones who abstain from royal balls! Thanks hoheit.’

‘It has always been a mistake not to treat the women equally. Look at the powerful Jews of the world now and wonder why they are in conflict with the whole world except the eight German monarchies of North-West Europe and the three States of the German Reich; because Germans treated them male and female equally in all the five thousand concentration camps. And because Germans are the only race who can treat native women the same as native men, Germans alone are qualified to instruct other nations on the rights of women. That is why, only two decades after the Fuhrer, German NGOs were already in hundred countries of all continents, training the native elite on the rights of women. That is why, the bulk of NGO personnel, four million highly qualified aid workers, are from the eight German monarchies including Britain and from the three Reich states, including Switzerland and Austria.’

‘The point is well made, hoheit. Except for the real Jews who still exist: they hate everything German.’

‘Not for long. Besides, they don’t count. A Jew in the 21st century is someone who eats pork, pretzel, caraway seed, and supports the aggressive equal rights agenda…’

‘And has a German name. Hoheit?’

‘You think that was a mistake? You think every German who infiltrated the Jewish nation ought to be renamed as Abraham, Isaac, Jacob?’

‘Would it not be safer, hoheit?’

‘Of course not. If I am to hide the global activities of three hundred million Germans behind thirty million Jews…’

‘Of which more than half are of German ethnicity…’

‘Then a large enough number of so called Jews have to have German names.’

‘Even Hans? Will not someone find it worth genealogical investigation? Why would a Hebrew name his son Hans since no Latin has ever done so?’

‘It is Heinz really. You are thinking of Heinrich Kissinger von Furth, are you not?’
 
‘The vassal of Bavaria.’

‘There are not many of that name impersonating the Hebrews. The presidential candidate is Kerry-Heinz but then his chances are naught now that the horrible Scot Wesley Clark stepped in. Let the Elector of Bavaria worry over that.’

‘Yes, hoheit.


	Chapter 3- SEVEN WORLD WARS


	Middle Earth and Map of HIV


‘Now to the Levant of 1918…’

‘Pardon, hoheit?’

‘The third objective for the war of 1914.’

‘Yes hoheit.’

‘Look at this map. It is graded in different colors. See the green zone?’

‘Yes. The green zone stretches from Northern Nigeria to Northern Korea, including North Africa, the Middle East, Iran, Afghanistan…’

‘And your Mongolia. Guess what this map depicts.’

‘Africa South of the Sahara is in red. That being Christianized Black Africa, I guess the colors depict religions. The green area connecting Nigeria to North Korea must be the heathens called Moslems.’

‘No, this is not a map of religions. It was printed in the economist of the year 2001, and it depicts prevalence of HIV epidemics. Green area has near zero incidence.’
 
‘How am I to understand this? That the third objective of the war of 1914 has failed?’

‘No, it is yet unfinished. Takes more than one world-war to get rid of some problems. Look at France: it is still there after seven world wars since 1702.’

‘Seven, hoheit?’

‚First global war was 1702-1714, it was us who called it the war of Queen Anne Stuart but Oldenburg boy was in command as dynast to all Britons. I mean in the visible seat of command, which was then London. Real command of both sides in all the world wars is always in the invisible hand of the Holy Vehm. Has always been but more officially so since 1477 Burgundy. Its Head Quarters are always in Westphalia where Brussels is. The first global war was exclusively against Latins; it appears as if France of Louis XIV fights against all German polities. To allow all German polities to appear on the same side of a frontline was a mistake that thought us definitely and for all times that in global wars, at least half the German polities should be made allied to the enemy camp including France.’

‘And the second global war, hoheit?’ 

‘1730-34, Polish Succession. My ancestor August the Strong did the planning as Elector of Saxony and king of Poland.’

‘And the third global war, hoheit?’

‘1740-48, Austrian Succession. Three Electors allied to France, ha ha. Imagine, France supported by three Electors: Saxony, Bavaria, and Berlin; against the Kaiser in Vienna allied with Elector of Hanover ruling Britain. Only a stupid Latin Nation like the France could believe that three electors were sincerely and really warring against the fourth Elector and the Kaiser they have elected together. Naturally the Holy Vehm could extend the war as long as we wished until blood letting was bountiful enough to drain the Latin and Slav nations of any will to rebel in the near future against German kings put into their palaces. There is no way but unlimited blood letting if a German is to rule in peace as king of Poland.’

‘And the fourth global war, hoheit?’

‘1756-63 Seven years war. Two electors against France.’

‘And how many with France?’

‘Two electors,  the Kaiser, Russia under German Generals, Sweden under German king.’

‘The two electors siding with France were…’

‘Bavaria and this our Saxony. My ancestor August II was Elector of Saxony and king of Poland.’

‘The two electors warring against the Kaiser they elect who was now allied with France were…’

‘Hanover ruling Britain and Berlin ruling Prussia. Two electors on each side under coordination by the same Holy Vehm. Naturally we can drag such a war for as long as we like. But Latins are a stiff-necked people capable of surviving false allies. Therefore, Elector of Saxony and king of Poland, my ancestor August II, took another precaution before starting the war: he gave two brides to the two royal houses of the Latins.’

‘One to Carlos III of Spain…’

‘That was Amalia of Saxony, married 1738.’

‘One to grand son of Louis XV, the dauphen who would father Louis XVI…’

‘That was Josefa of Saxony, married 1747.’

‘August II of Saxony and Poland was married to sister of the elector of Bavaria.’

‘Naturally each bride went to the Latin courts with three hundred courtiers, the executive arm of the Holy Vehm; capable doctors mostly.’

‘Naturally.’

‘1738 Spain and Italy Saxonized, 1747 Fance Saxonized, and voila! Let there be a world war, and let two electors be on each side and let the Kaiser be on whichever side you like.’

‘It is incredulous that Latins actually fell for that again.’

‘And again and again and they will fall for it one more time, one last time.’

‘And the fifth global war, hoheit?’

‘1776-83 Rebellion of the Plantations against Elector of Hanover. Naturally all electors gave their armies to Hanover and the Holy Vehm did everything possible to keep the Latins neutral, but it did not work.’

‘Because…’

‘Because the incompetent Hesse had the supreme command, by virtue of his chairing the Holy Vehm.’

‘And the sixth global war, hoheit?’

‘1914-18 the objectives of which I explained before.’

‘And the German kings supposedly on the side of France?’

‘Oh a dozen at least: Britain to start with, under my vassal duke of Coburg at the time; then Russia, under Duke of Holstein; and Belgium under Coburg, Bulgaria under Coburg, Rumania under a cadet line of Berlin, Sigmaringen or some such pigstall in Wurttemberg; Greece under Oldenburg…’

‘And all these German kings sided with France and France believed them?’

‘Sure, why not? No newspaper in France ever mentioned that any of these kings was German.’

‘Hesse arranges that sort of total control of media?’

‘With all the budget put into the hands of Hesse for the job, I cannot see how Hesse could fail in news control.’

‘And the seventh global war, hoheit?’

‘1939-45.’

‘And the German kings supposedly on the side of France?’

‘North West of Europe as in the war of 1914 and Balkans too as in the war of 1914.'

'Amazing that all these German kings could remain kings of Slavs and Kelts and Viking even though Germany supposedly lost in 1918.'

'Stupid Woodrow Wilson was merciless against the Kaiser and pressed the German ruling house of Holland to deliver the Kaiser to an international court; but the same Wilson supported restoration of the German king to Greece without ever knowing that the person Greeks hated to have as their king was a German and the queen of all Hellenes was sister of the German Kaiser. And that Wilson was a historian, haha.’

‘And the eighth global war, hoheit?’

‘Eighth and last global war started on September 11, 2001 and the beauty of it is that with the exception of the stupid cadet line of Hesse that rules Britain now, no German state appears as a party to it.’

‘But Hoheit, Bulgaria too gave troops for invasion of Iraq and Bulgaria is now again under Simeon Saxe-Coburg-Gotha, your vassal.’

‘Well, the silly Simeon was seduced by the Hessian Charles von London. Besides, his support was really low profile. Not so exposed as Hesse-Hauke-Windsor.

‘Yes hoheit.’


	Sir Fitzroy McLean 1936 on Mongolia 1920

‘Tell me about that audacious Scot agent who endangered your House by exposure. He is the agent upon whom Ian Fleming based the james Bond Character, is that right?’

‘He is. Fitzroy McLean almost ruined the honorable house of Ungern-Sternberg.’

‘How could he?’

‘Hoheit, the Scot published a chapter titled the Mad Baron of Mongolia; in a 1936 book titled the Holy Russia... I think that was the title.’

‘Did he describe your uncle with less than due respect?’

‘He did Hoheit.’

‘Let me call my Geheim Rat on Scottish impertinence; he will have the details.’

The Elector turned towards the Nosferatu who had been standing there all the time like an integral furniture of the infernal cavern. The Nosferatu stood his position for a moment, eye to eye with his elector, and then turned around and left the cavern.

‘Till he brings my expert, what can you tell me about the Scottish agent?’

‘Born in 1911, to a lineage of long time collaborators to German ruling houses in Britain. In 1775 there is a Colonel Mclean of the same Scottish clan who served Hanover against the rebellious Scots and Irish in America.’

‘Beware of our servants! They can do more damage than the rebels of their nations. On the other hand, where would we be without such lackeys who think they serve us out of policy for a time until their opportunity comes to revolt against us!’

 ‘Indeed, hoheit. It is a fine point to balance between native capacity to harm us and intelligence enough to serve us.’

‘Tell me about his life. I know he died very recently, after unification of Germany.’

‘Strachur in Scotland is a village dominated by the home of the late Sir Fitzroy McLean, the legendary soldier upon whom it is said the character of James Bond is based. It has magnificent views across Loch Fyne.’

‘You have been there.’

‘Had to see the nest that produced such monsters.'

'Continue.'

‘In 1992 our Huguenot agent Larouche had this to say on McLean: Now this group in Yugoslavia, is not only connected to British intelligence, through people like Fitzroy McLean, who is still alive (he was Churchill's man, the guy who Churchill used for the relationship with Tito during World War II which is why the British supported the Communist partisans there, and also very close, however, to the Bertrand Russell crowd)’

‘So Mclean is born in 1911 and still alive in 1992. What next?’

‘During 1930's McLean was a British Intelligence Officer in Moscow, and reported the Bukharin trial to London.’

‘So young! But then my vassal George V von Coburg-Windsor would employ any Scot willing to serve, there being not many willing: The younger the better.’ 

‘In 1943 Mclean was parachuted into Yugoslavia to coordinate with Tito resistance,

‘And he was the real-life model for James Bond, this Brigadier McLean?’

‘So runs the story according to Ian Fleming.’

‘What else did he do?’

‘He helped in the founding of Yugoslavia, and until 1991, there was a statue of him in Titograd (now Podgorice) titled "Fitzroy McLean, Hero Of the Socialist Revolution"

‘Quite an achievement for a Scotsman who later became a Conservative MP.’

‘Brigadier Fitzroy Maclean was Winston Churchill’s personal representative to Tito and wrote of his many exploits in Yugoslavia and of his many visits there on Churchill’s behalf. All his life he was a friend of Yugoslavia, and was President of the Anglo-Yugoslav Society.’

‘He was knighted by my vassal Coburg-Windsor but not for the obvious reasons: in the Adria, he was dumb enough to mistake the British bombing partisan vessels for unintentional friendly fire. Thanks to the trust Tito had in the Scottish Brigadier, the Royal Air Force could pinpoint its friendly fire on partisan positions. When did Sir Fitzroy McLean die?’

‘In 1997.’


	Books of McLean

‘Tell me about the books of Sir Fitzroy McLean.’

‘Eastern Approaches printed in 1949.’

‘That is the adventure in Yugoslavia from 1943 onwards…’

‘In 1943,  Fitzroy Maclean parachuted into German-occupied Yugoslavia as Brigadier commanding the British Military Mission to the Tito partisans. He later wrote his memoir: "Eastern Approaches" that described his 2-years there.’

‘Did he write on Scottish rebellions?’ 

‘Scotland: A Concise History.’

‘In which he tells of the three Scottish rebellions against the German kings in London?’

‘That is right, hoheit. 1689, 1714 and 1745.’

‘Does he connect the 1689 Salem witchhunt in the plantation of Massachussets to the Massacre of Glencoe in 1689 when our boy Nassau exterminates the clan of MacIan of Glencoe in Scottish highlands?’

‘He does not.’

‘Harmless chap then, this James Bond of yours.’

‘But he is audacious enough to mention House Hanover by name as the party against which his Scots rebel.’

‘All other penmen of Britain are tamed enough to refer to the king of England as king of England. It is very tasteless to recall the German origin of the ruling elite. A king is a king and London is London. There is no reason to mention Germans from Hanover. But then, Scots never learn, do they?’

‘Never, hoheit.’

‘Therefore, it was right to let loose the Hessians on them, just like on native Americans later.’

‘Doubtless, hoheit. Similarities between Scots and Native Americans are too many.’

‘Same people, I am sure. In fact, Socts are nothing but a colony of native Americans planted there in Phoenician times.’

‘Most probably, hoheit.’

‘What other books did he write?’

‘Take Nine Steps. Printed in New York.’

‘And?’

‘Take Nine Spies.’

‘And?’

‘Holy Russia.’

‘In which there is…’

‘The story of the Mad Baron.’

‘Whom he introduces not as a White Russian general honorably fighting against the Bolshevik Red army but as…’

‘The mad baron ... was His Excellency Chiang Chun Major-General Baron Roman Fyodorovich von Ungern-Stemberg, the descendant of a long line of Baltic barons, crusaders, pirates ...’

‘And your house was indeed among the Baltic barons, the cream of Teutonic Knights.’

‘True, hoheit, but this ought to be no concern of a Scottish adventurer and the wide world is not qualified to be told all this connected in one article. Each of those titles was meant for a different people.’

‘The Russians were to hate him as a Chinese general named Chiang Chun; and the Chinese were to hate him as Russian general Fyodorovich.’

‘That is right, Hoheit. And only the occult lodges stretching from Petersburg on the Baltic to Harbin, Manchuria were to know him under the name of baron  von Ungern-Stemberg’

‘Hesse is good in damage control. I am sure no American who matters for our purposes will ever have seen the chapter on Mad Baron. Ah, there comes my Geheim Rat for this subject.’

Enter the Nosferatu, followed by a juvenile rat. Both personages are similarly constructed, long limbs and all, except the juvenile is dressed as if he were an alien simulating a carefree computer hacker on the planet earth.’


	Chapter 4- MAD BARON IN WORLD WIDE WEB


	Enemies of Internet


‘There is my Hagbard Celine. Come to tell us about the Mad Baron in Internet.’ said the Elector to the juvenile Rat and then to the heir of the Mad Baron, he added, 'Geheim Rat will tell us about how a delicate subject on the Internet can be censored. Naturally the Final Solution has to be the removal of the Internet out of  the reach of the unworthy inferior races; denied to all but us, like the pox inoculation for centuries. Until then temporary solutions. I bet my hacker here has clogged the web with a billion spams today. Is that so, Hagbard!'

‘For addicted browsers, Mad Baron is a computer game, nothing more.’ proudly announced the hacker whose job it was to keep the Internet politically correct.

‘Tell us about the real Red Baron.’

‘Article of Mclean was posted in the year 2002 and killed in the same year.’

‘But not in the same month. Why not?’

‘Because of a stupid typing mistake.’

‘You may explain.’

‘On November of 2002 we found out that the article was available on geocities server since some months. The reason it escaped us before was that the name of the baron was misspelled as Ungern-Stemberg instead of Sternberg; happens at scanning of old type. Someone found it accidentally when searching for Baltic Barons and naturally found the material most interesting. Next thing he did was to discuss it on some forum we had under continuous surveillence, and that is how we heard of it. The posting was then killed.’

‘You have to do better than that, my Hagbard! How come there still are references to Baltic Barons?’

‘Not many, hoheit, concidering the millions of postings per day.’

‘How many?’

‘On November 2002 there were only 116 pages containing the phrase Baltic Barons. This is a very tiny droplet in oceans of information put on magnetic storage in the year 2002.'

'How big was the ocean?'


'In the year 2002 the information put on magnetic storage was three exa-bytes. That is three billion giga-bytes.'

'How do we know? How much did it cost us to find this out?' asked the Elector while counting invisible Reichsmarks in his fingers.

'Our link in the School of Information Management Systems at the University of California in Berkeley managed to commit money of American taxpayer to a survey titled, How Much Information. This spares us funds.'

'Which you divert into producing more billions of spams and disinformation per day. It is what you like best, is it not, my Hagbard?'

'It is.'

'How much is giga-byte?' whispered the baron timidly.

'How much is a giga-byte?' magnified the Elector boldly.

'A byte is a letter of alphabet; a kilobyte is a page; a megabyte is a largish book; a gigabyte is a thousand books.'

'Three billion gigabytes produced in the year 2002 is how much?'

'It is a five hundred books per each person living on the planet. It is half a million libraries of Congress.'

'Not bad. Too much of information is like no information at all; the same effect. Maybe we need not fear the Internet after all!' said the duke while his fingers counting invisible Reichsmarks he might save.

'Only if the search engines were no more. They are horrible; specially google.' said the hacker of Thuringia.

'What do you suggest, my Hagbard, as a temporary solution to hte problem?'

'Make them an offer and buy them out! And then we can place filters so no Baltic Baron can be located.'

'I will pass the word to Soros. What are the existing references to Baltic Barons? Nothing to embarrass our future king of Mongolia here, I hope.' asked the Elector.

'Three of the 116 refenerces to Baltic barons were from the same book of the French Ambassador Paleologue to Petersburg during the war of 1914.’

‘Kill that book.’

‘We are working on it, hoheit.’

‘Soros can fund companies to buy the buildings which house the servers.’

‘Such texts are quickly mirrored on other servers.’

‘We can buy as quickly and demolish. We can buy them in advance even; there cannot be that many buildings suitable for the purpose. What else is there to buy with all the drug revenue?’

‘Jawohl, hoheit.’

‘The Mclean article on mad baron is not on Internet now?’

‘It is not, hoheit.’

‘But other references to Baron Roman Fyodorovich von Ungern-Sternberg are posted?’

‘No more than several hundred and none as damaging as the McLean article.’

‘What do they say? And who posts them?’

‘Latins mostly. France and South America.’

‘Not Slavs?’

‘Not yet but soon they will catch up too.’

‘Unless our submarines put an end to their wing of the Internet once and for all.’

‘Of course hoheit.’

'Synchroniously with earthquakes.'

'Naturally.'

‘To prevent spread of child pornography, of course.’

‘Jawohl hoheit.’

‘Tell us about the postings and we will ask the baron here to judge how close they come to sensitive areas. I am satisfied with my hackers if the Baron is satisfied with the end product.’

The hacker opened a laptop he had brought with him.

 ‘A Swedish site has this: extraordinary career of Roman Nikolaj Fjodorovitj von Ungern-Sternberg; born 1887 to a house of Baltic Barons; officer of the Russian Czar in the 1905 war against Japan; posted as major general of the Czar in Mongolia around 1911; pretended to become Buddhist and boasted with being reincarnation of Djingis Khan; in 1920, marched through half Siberia to the capital of Mongolia, Urga later named Ulan Batur; stormed the capital with a force of 12,000 troops and captured it from Mongols; massacred the Chinese in the area.’

‘That all in the Swedish text?’

‘Jawohl.’

‘No mention that the Baron pretended to have funds from Japan; entertained spies who pretended to be Jews in Harbin, capital of Manchuria; massacred the Jews of Mongolia whom the Mongols took great risks to protect?’

‘No word.’

‘That, what the Baron proclaimed and did in Mongolia 1921 was later program of Hitler applied to Western Slavs in Poland and Balkans?’

‘No word.’

‘That the troops of baron Ungern-Sternberg were Volga Germans?’

‘No word.’

‘That his doctors were Germans connected to the network of global occult German lodges which in fact provided the funds and strategy?’

‘No word.’

‘Well then, it must be one of our vassals in Sweden who posted this.’

‘He is, hoheit.’ 

‘You ran a background check on the idiot?’

‘We did per standard procedure.’

‘Well, let him know that our interest is not in representing the baron in a nice way. Our interest is removing his name from public records. Tell him this is the order from the unknown superior. Do it subtly. We want no commotion in Sweden right now; not until the stupid French king is dead and his daughter is united to a German dynast. If alerted, the Latin fool may reverse his consent to the change in rule of succession. Latins too easily revert to the Salic law.’

‘Hoheit?’

‘Never mind. You are not qualified to know on how rules of succession are changed, nor why they are changed.’

‘But Hoheit, Latins take pride in not going back on their word.’

‘I said never mind, Hagbard Celine. This is not your beer.’

‘Hoheit.’

‘Beware that you hear too much of what I say. It is not safe for you.’

‘Jawohl, hoheit.’

‘Now, then, what else is on the Internet about our mad baron? You said nothing from the Slavs.’

‘There is a book.’

‘But the text is not on Internet?’

‘No, but the book can be ordered through Amazon com.’

‘That ought to be no problem since you get the bank of every buyer instantly and in every bank on the globe is a vassal of ours. We can deal with those.’

‘We do.’

‘What do Latins post about the sanguine baron?’

‘Nothing as damaging as the Mclean article.’

‘What do they say?’

The hacker looked at his lap top on which our camera zoomed and we could see an item under the caption, Books on Mad Baron.

Léonid Iouzéfovitch (Leonid Juzefovic'), 
Samoderz'ec pustyni. Fenomen sud'by barona R. F. Ungern-S'ternberga 
[Le tyran du désert. Le prodigieux destin du baron R.F. Ungern-Sternberg], 
Moscou, Ellis Luck, 1993, 

Baron Ungern (Le). Khan des steppes; par Léonid Youzéfovitch
( Livre )Syrtes (Des) Langue d'origine : russe
Traduit par Élisabeth Mouraviova
2001, 283 p., 19.82 euros


	James Bond McLean Exposes Mad Baron


‘My boy, my Hagbard Celine, this here is Baron Ungern-Sternberg, legitimate heir  to the Mad Baron, king of Mongolia. You will tell us all that has leaked to the World Wide Web so far about his illustrious Uncle, His Excellency Chiang Chun Major-General Baron Roman Fyodorovich von Ungern-Sternberg who acquired the crown of Mongolia and made it a birth right of the House Ungern-Stemberg for all times to come.'

'I have it all here in this lap tap,'

'I have a mind to lend you, my vassal, to the baron here, as his right hand man; success of his House much depends on removing the adverse information from the view of praying natives; a job in which you excel. This will be a promotion; you will become Freiherr von Monte Christo.'

'Your wish my command.'

'The future king of all Mongols already has a high priestess Olga von Buddha to preside over the churches of his kingdom. You will be his high priest for information management.'

'Your wish my command.'

Such absolute vassalage, I thought; a merit or an infection, I wondered. Disgusting when expressed by an otherwise honored profession like hacker. A disgrace to all free hackers on the planet! A chracter from Stephen King book, the Stand, appeared before my eyes. It was the misunderstood bald fire devil in service of the blond devil called Fleck in Las Vegas; after an epidemic that escaped from a top security research lab in Nevada. Come to think of it now, the lab would have been under protection of the Wackenhut Corporation; Stephen King never gives the name of the company responsible for outside guard duty. It is a weak link in this chain that allows the flu virus escape and the ensuing epidemic depopulate Americas. Hope of the remaining few humans is an old African American called Mother Abigail Freemantle and a carefree Scot called Stu for Stewart; played by the humbly stoic Gary Sinese.

Stephen King must have written this in early nineties, or direct after unification of Germanies. Even the movie was made before 1995; that is long before SARS I.

'Now tell us about that Mclean article which the Baron here thinks to be the only obstruction between him and his kingdom to come. Though I am one who believes in the power of words, I doubt much if a Scotsman is born yet who can deprive a German baron of his kingdom. Sir Walter Scott could not open a dent in the throne of Hanover in Britain; not even with treacherously coded and loaded books like Anne of Geierstein or Waverly. Like the most gallant Scots, he had eventually to go down on his knees and be knighted by the Vassal of Hanover.'

'The knighted savage of Highlands later refused a baronetcy from House Brunswick-Luneburg-Hanover though.' added Baron Ungern-Sternberg, probably to show that he was not all together devoid of literary interests.

'Let us hear what Sir Fitzroy Mclean wrote. You may read from your laptop, my boy.’ said the Elector and showed him a place to sit.

The hacker fiddled with the laptop for a while and then finding the desired document, he read:

‘...While Sukhe Bator was in Irkutsk, negotiating with the Soviet authorities for help, events took a different turn. There was a change of government in Peking. In Urga the rule of Little Hsu came to an abrupt end and suddenly chaos ensued.’

‘The year is 1920?’

‘Yes. Urga is capital of Mongolia, later named Ulan Bator as it had been before, and Little Hsu is the toppled ruler in Peking.’

‘Peking is referred to as if capital of a sovereign China? No hint at complete Coburg-London control there?’

‘None.’
 
‘Very well, proceed.’

‘...It is at this stage that a new and strange character appears on the scene: a tall, red-haired, white-faced, Imperial Russian cavalry officer in his early thirties, of part-Baltic and part-Hungarian extraction, by religion a Buddhist, with long, thin fingers, a small head set on broad shoulders, a high-pitched, hysterical voice, piercing, watery-blue eyes, one set lower than the other, pale lips above a narrow chin, a straggling reddish moustache, a fearful sabre-cut across his forehead and manifestly paranoiac tendencies, usually believing himself to be a reincarnation of Jenghiz Khan or, in his less lucid moments, the God of War in person.’

‘That is your uncle indeed, baron; family resemblance is unmistakable.’

‘Thank you Hohait.’

‘...Such was His Excellency Chiang Chun Major-General Baron Roman Fyodorovich von Ungern-Stemberg, the descendant of a long line of Baltic barons, crusaders, pirates and freebooters by sea and by land, carrying in their veins, their descendant proudly claimed, the blood of Attila's Huns, which gave him, or so he believed, a special affinity for Mongols and Mongolia.’

‘So far the Scot has not dared to openly say that the Baron was German just like his Czar. Does he say so later in the article?’

‘No, Hoheit. Baltic is the nearest he comes to the German Reich.’

‘That is why the Scot was allowed to publish. But also, he made the reference subtle so that he would be allowed to publish. Just like Sir Walter Scott. Proceed.’

‘...Baron Ungern had started life as a cadet in the Imperial Russian Navy, had made his way to the Far East and there joined the Transbaikal Cossacks.'

'How does a German officer in service of a German Czar join the Cossacs?'

'He is made commanding officer of a collaborating bunch degenerated for the purpose by drugs, alcohol and gold; easy to manufacture in minute quantities out of every occupied nation.'

'That must be around the year 1900 when Russians under German officers were made to occupy China, suppress the boxer revolution, invade Korea, and then conduct war against Japan in 1905. Continue.'

'...His military career had been marked by a series of illicit duels and other more scandalous episodes. Twice cashiered from the army, each time he somehow found his way back into it. Around the year 1912 he had spent some time on his own in Mongolia, fighting the Chinese and robbing caravans.'

'The far east of those times may with justice be described as in a state of anrachy. No harm in this being in all books on the subject for as long as the German barons who rob the caravans remain out of those books.'

'...In 1914 the outbreak of war had enabled him once more to force his way back into the army, and he had been sent to the German front.’

‘Probably charged with bringing ten thousand unarmed Russian officers to be machine-gunned at Tannenberg.’

‘...There the unfriendly attitude of his brother officers enraged him. He determined to show them what sort of a man he was. 'Dashing into battle like a lunatic', he was soon covered with decorations for gallantry and at thirty-three was a major-general.’

‘That must be after suicide of the real Russian general Samsonov for the timely deed which General Rennenkampf must have promoted the Baron.’

‘...A sabre-cut on the head still further disturbed the balance of his mind. 'I venture to say', remarked a member of his entourage warningly to someone about to encounter him for the first time, 'that he is insane most of the time.'

‘General Samsonov must have resisted suicide with sword in hand then, the night before Tannenberg. Talk of Russian indifference to death: what a myth.'

'Naturally autopsy report dates time of suicide as the night after Tannenberg.’

'Naturally and very scientifically too, towards which end, corpse of the suicided general willhave been cut into very thin slices. Even on hardships of front conditions, science must be served.'

‘...In Siberia, whither Ungern had found his way after the Revolution, the civil war had ended earlier in 1920 with the victory of the Bolsheviks.'

'Poor House Holstein, to lose a fine empire to its natives just like that.'

'...But odd bands of marauding Tsarist White Guards, once part of the army commanded by the notorious half-Russian, half-Mongol Cossack Hetman Semyonov were still at large in the area, living as best they could off the country.’

‘Like Rehoboth; half black Namibian, half you know what. Poor Volga Germans like lost pigs on the tundra after the German Czar is executed by order of that Jew Jakov Sverdlov.’

‘...From these desperate men, with nothing whatever to lose and nothing much to hope for, and from any other likely recruits he could find among the human flotsam and jetsam adrift in the area, whether Mongols, Russians, Japanese, Chinese or Austro-Hungarian prisoners-of-war, Baron Ungern, who had latterly been serving under Semyonov, now raised a mixed irregular force under his own command. His aim was to found a vast Asiatic empire, as Jenghiz Khan had done, and then invade Europe at the head of his conquering hordes.’

‘All nationalities except Germans are fighting desperately to restore the German Czar. As if the invisible millions Volga Germans have no interest along those lines. That is the kind of prose I love.’

‘...One of those thus recruited has left a first-hand account of Ungern's recruiting methods. The Baron was dressed, he tells us, in a dirty fur hat, ‘a short Chinese jacket of cherry-red silk, blue uniform breeches and high Mongol boots. In his right hand beheld the famous bamboo riding whip with which he would lash out savagely at those who aroused his fire. Going down the line of potential recruits, he would stop before each man in turn, look him in the face, hold his gaze for a few moments and then scream, in a high tenor: 'To the Army!' 'Back to the cattle!' Or simply: 'Liquidate!'

‘Pretend you are recruiting for a good cause and then liquidate the confused candidate who is not a Volga German. Hah ha. Your uncle knew the game well, Baron Ungern-Sternberg. Read!’

‘...All men with physical defects were immediately shot, the Baron, who believed implicitly in reincarnation, being convinced that he was doing them a kindness and helping them improve their chances next time round. He also, on principle, immediately killed all Jews, regardless of age, sex or ability. By the time each such inspection was completed hundreds of people had been slaughtered.’

‘That is in 1920, mind you. Before the Name of Hitler is in print. A pioneer of the Third Reich, our Baltic Baron. But still, it is good that the ten thousand books of Latins and Slavs who endevour to explain the Nazi ideology do not connect to the illustrious pioneer work of the baron in Mongolia, nor the work of German Czars in Russia before: pogroms, ghettos, and all else. I love it when they write Russian pogroms without ever saying it happened only under German Czars.’

‘...Baron Ungern's immediate aim was to make himself master of Outer Mongolia, where he firmly believed that he had a divine mission to fulfill.’

‘Divine mission, yes. Very true: to civilize the savages of Asia; a hopeless job, but alas, it is the burden of the master species. Cannot turn our back to the responsibility. Read!’

‘...With the force he had recruited, he now crossed the Mongolian border and, after a long approach march, launched at the end of October 1920 a night attack on the Holy City of Urga. This was a failure. On reaching the outskirts of Urga, his troops found themselves caught in a withering cross-fire from the Chinese garrison, who were well dug in, relatively well armed, and outnumbered his forces ten to one. After suffering heavy losses, the Baron withdrew to the nearby hills. There he waited in a raging snowstorm for a favorable sign from the soothsayers who always accompanied him.’

‘Listen to the soothsayers. That is what I always say. When the royal fortuneteller says beware of the cowbird in the cuckoo nest, and genealogy research says Eisenhower’s father was not of the Red Earth, it is time for suicides.’

‘Henry James; A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man.’ said the hacker who must have recognized a quotation from among the exa-bytes he browses every day.

‘What?’

‘The quote, hohait: the cuckoo's fledgling in the cowbird's nest; it is the first line of Henry James book.’

‘I know. Proceed with the German King of Mongolia.’

‘I meant to say James Joyce, hohait.’

‘I know. Joyce wrote a biography of Eisenhower?’

‘The book is about Stephen's search for his true identity. As the very first sentence informs us, he is not truly of the family into which he was born; there he is "baby tuckoo," the cuckoo's fledgling in the cowbird's nest.’

‘That is Eisenhower, except he searched in the wrong zone. He ought to search in Scotland from where Hessians must have got his grand father at birth. I wish Hesse would keep better records of who is who. Was Eisenhower baptized Stephen?’

‘No hoheit. What Joyce writes is…’

‘Whatever. Proceed with the story.’

‘...In the bloody battle that ensued the Chinese were beginning to get the worst of it and were on the point of evacuating the city. Then one Chinese officer, with the fatalism of his race, rallied his men for a last forlorn stand against the enemy. This, as it happened, turned the scales, and once again the Baron was obliged to give his troops the order to withdraw.’

‘One Chinese officer turns the scale. He should not be there. He should not be alive at all, with all the Hessian missionaries all over China. And yet, Hesse billed Coburg for this oversight, on basis that opium dens in China were fief of Coburg, by way of London, included in heirloom of my vassal the Duke of Albany and Coburg, Karl Edward, grandson of Victoria and Albert. Proceed.’

‘It was not until the end of January 1921 that Baron Ungern resumed the offensive. This time the soothsayers, in acordance with an ancient prophecy, had fixed the first day of February, the fifth day of the first moon, as the day on which his attack on the sacred city was to be launched. It was on this day, according to the old prophets, that the Living Buddha was to be liberated from his Chinese captors. On 11 January the Baron's force, which now numbered 1,700 men, set out from the Kerulen River on the long march across snowy, wolf-infested country to Urga.’

‘The baron has German doctors with him in Mongolia?’

‘Yes, hoheit. Dr Klingenberg, the Baron's chief medical officer…’

‘And…’

‘Dr Engelgard-Eserski.’

‚Proceed.’

‘...Their stopping-places on the march were chosen in accordance with various ancient Mongolian prophecies, while the disposition of the units under the Baron's command was regulated by reference to the cracks in mutton-bones specially dried for this purpose in the ashes of their camp fires. In so doing the Baron was following an old Mongol custom.'

‘No wonder the baron was expert on these Old Mongol Customs; all being invented in our libraries; all you need for the job is a Prof. Hegel and some authentic folk tales from the target area. There are pitfalls of course but you are pretty safe if you do not bring pigs into the tales.'

'How damaging can a blunder be?' asked the baron.

'Not much with proper damage control. Hog in Scotland meant lamb but our scribe inventing myths for Scots could not know that. The myths could not be withdrawn from circulation but ancient lexicons of Scots could be modifed to fit the new meanings. It is a delicate job to remove books from private libraries. Wilhelm Nassau had to impose window tax on Scots so that Hessian assessors would legitimately enter all private libraries and mark native dictionaries to be removed later. Proceed.’

‘...And as we were entering', wrote Friar William of Rubruck in 1253 of a visit to Mongke Khan, 'a servant came out, carrying some sheep's shoulder blades, burnt to a cinder, and I wondered greatly what he could do with them. When later on I enquired about it, I learnt that he does nothing in the world without first consulting the bones.' 'To the simple nomads', wrote one of Ungern's companions, 'it all seemed miraculous'.’

‘Wilhelm von Rubruck is the sole source then for this nonsense. At the time a plantagenet was Kaiser of the First Reich. Duke of York, son of John Lackland, son of Henry II who was the first German king to England. His secret service was the Hanse, opened in London 1157; three years after Heinrich Lorraine -Anjou-Normandy, a duke of the First Reich, became king of England. That first German rule in England ended in 333 years. Beware the soothsayers who say the second German rule in England will also end in 333 years. It started in 1688, you know. But that is a problem for Hesse-Hauke-Battenberg. Proceed.’

‘...More convinced than ever that the Baron was, as they had been told, a reincarnation of Tzagan Burkhan, the God of war, specially sent down from heaven to lead them, they followed him blindly.’

‘The doctors were von Hesse obviously. The style is unmistakable. Like in the Rasputin diversion. Duke of Hesse made all Russians believe that the only reason was Rasputin for the Czarina, sister of the duke of Hesse, appointed the German Baron von Sturmer as Prime Minister of all Russias; the only reason for such a thing in the middle of the world war; in 1915, when Russians were being machine-gunned by the million by Prussians; a Siberian monk Rasputin had too much influence over the Czarina; and her wishes were command for the Czar.'

'Why on earth should a Siberian monk insist on a German Prime Minister for Russia was never asked by any public figure?' wondered the baron.

'Hesse loves blundering and then damage control by total control over print material; he manages it well after having produced an absurdity that would better be avoided. It is the Hessian style. Works most of the time but I find the taste bad. Might backfire generations later! When that happens, will the Hessian heir then accept the responsibility of his Duchy? Never. Deniability is a Red Shield made in Frankfurt, capital of Hesse. Continue.’

‘...On 29 January the Baron's force reached Ubulun, thirty miles from Urga. Late that night their patrols captured two motor-cars full of Jewish refugees, including a businessman with a Swiss passport, who were making a belated dash for the border. 'All', we are told, 'were lynched with great gaiety.' 

‘It is the year 1921?’

‘Yes hoheit.’


	Chapter 5- BISHOPS, BIBLES, KNAVES AND KNIGHTS


	Electoral College of the Occult Reich

‘Well read on; this is exciting stuff.’

‘...The same night Colonel Hiroyama, who had been commanding a Japanese detachment serving with the Baron, managed to escape and make his way to Urga to give himself up. But this did not worry the Baron, who simply sent a message to his Chinese enemies to warn them that the Japanese Colonel was really a Russian spy, with the result that on his arrival in Urga the colonel was immediately executed.’

‘Let us pause here. Hagbard Celine, my boy, you go with the young Rat lest you hear more than is safe for your life. I will discuss a fine point with the young baron.’

The Juvenile Rat led the hacker out of the cavern. There remained the Elector, his Nosferatu rat and the baron.

‘Now, baron, there are things a future king of Mongolia can learn only from the Elector of Saxony and king of Poland. I dare say no other elector is better qualified. You will know that my house was among the seven sole electors in the bull of 1356 and long before: Seven Against the World; the unknown superiors of all the occult in this biosphere. Who were the Seven Electors, baron?’

‘Three archbishops, three dukes and a dupe. Seven Electors of the Reich.’

‘Right, baron. Who were the three bishops whose vote or veto decided who should be the next Kaiser or Fuherer and what wars he could or could not conduct?’

‘Prince Archbishops of Mainz, Trier and Cologne, hohait.’

‘Right. Also called Arch Chancellors; for what parts of the map is each an unknown superior of all the occult cells and lodges?'

' Köln torments Italy, Trier destabilises France and Mainz protects the secrets of Germany.

'And who are the three Dukes who elect or veto a Kaiser?’

‘Brandenburg…’

‘That is the Teutonic Order…’

‘Hesse.’

‘That is the idiot in the family. But you err, baron. In the Bull of 1356, Hesse has not the electoral dignity yet. How Hesse got it is hight of the ridicule. It happened just before the first and longest Reich collapsed under fists of Napoleon; the same Latin abomination gave the dignity of Elector to Hesse along with Baden and Wurttemberg.’

'Why did he?'

'Because Archbishops of Mainz, Trier and Köln lost their sovereignty and therefore electoral rank too. So thought the Latin fool, not knowing our occult underground thrives behind enemy borders. Napoleon thought to have abolished three electorates therefore he gave the Reich three others. Naturally the abolished orders were never abolished but the new ones added by grace of Napoleon, making us twelve electors in 1806 when Napoleon abolished our First Reich. The second Reich would be declared to the world from the same hall where Napoleon had signed the command to abolish the first Reich, but that is another story. If Hesse was not elector in 1356, Who was?'

‘Saxe!’

‘That is me. With what title of the Reich?'

'the Duke of Saxony, Imperial Marshal of the Reich.'

'Who was the third Elector Duke then?'

'the Count Palatine of the Rhine, Imperial Seneschal.'

'Yes, Heidelberg was the Senechal, the major-domo.'

'The chief  butler of the greatest household on the planet which was the Reich.'

'Which Kaiser issued the Bullof 1356 that fixed the seven electors of the Reich?'

'Emperor Karl IV of Luxembourg, King of Bohemia.'

'You have seen the text of the Bull, baron?'

'I have.'

'What strikes you most?'

'That there is to be no stranger in the city of Frankfurt during the weeks, even months when the seven electors sit in conference to elect the next Kaiser of all Romani.'

'What strikes you in this?'

'That our master race had an underground organization that could isolate Frankfurt from the world for so long a time without other nations ever perceiving the operation. It must have been a gigantic exercise in total control over a large area, a whole duchy. I am proud to know that the nation chosen to rule all kingdoms was that capable even in 1356.'

'Very true, baron, and concidering that the black death had destroyed all our lodges among the Latins only five years before, the repairing of the netz so quickly was quiet an achievement.'

'Naturally the Latins could not perceive it in their midst because they were not capable of thinking such a feat possible.'

'Very true, baron. And who was the dupe elector?’

‘That King of Bohemia who signed the Bull; that Slav who was fooled to believe himself a Kaiser for a season!’

‘Imperial Cup Bearer, the Slav fool. Our key into the monolith we have been up and against since the beginning. The Slav monolith, which has been there on our east all the time: the same that was called Scythe, the same that was called Hun.’

‘Yes Hoheit.’

‘A vast continental mass from Tirana to Harbin.’

‘Yes Hoheit.’

‚From Albania to Japan.’

‘But Hoheit, Albania and Japan do not know themselves as akin to Slavs.’

‘Nor do Orthodox Greece and Bulgaria. At times, even Catholic Poland stands apart, but what of it? Our libraries cause this for a time. But at crisis, birds of the same feather…’

‘Fly together.’

'Now, baron, tell me who the natural members of the Reich Parliament were; who had a seat in the Reichstag, the Diet, the organ of the Holy Romany Germany Reich that allocated resources which made wars possible?

'The Electors, varying in number from seven to twelve over ten centuries.'

'Who else?'

'In the middle of the seventeenth century there were forty-three lay members and thirty-three ecclesiastical members of the Diet but their numbers expanded steadily until the Empire's collapsed in 1806 under the fists of Napoleon.'

'Who were these men, these legislators of the Reich, who have decided collectively for all the wars on this planet, baron?'

'The Diet included the Electors, the rulers of the larger Duchies such as Wurtemberg, and Oldenburg, the smaller Saxon states and Anhalt, and a larger number of Sovereign Princes and Sovereign. Some of the ecclesiastical rulers enjoyed the status of Princes, others only that of Counts and were ranked accordingly.'

'A larger number of Sovereign Princes and Sovereign Counts; the Reich had and still has hundreds of thousands of these, each one qualified to become king to Britons or Czar to Russians. But given their large numbers, how many votes had these landless sovereigns in the Reich Diet?'

'Counts sat in Circles of Counts; each circle had one vote in the Diet. Same thing for the tens of thousands of princes. A circle of a thousand princes had one vote; meaning a landless sovereign had a thousandth of a vote. Like share holders of corporations today.'

'How was the occult world represented in the Parliament of the Reich?'

'The High Master of the Teutonic Knights, the Grand Prior of Germany of the Order of Saint John (Malta), and the Master of the Knights of the Johanniter Order also had seats in the Diet, ranking as Princes of the Empire. Each one of these had one or more votes, depending on times, geography of proposed operations and peculiarity of projects being voted.'

'Very well, baron. Three main orders had sits in the Parliament of the German Reich. But of these, only the Teutonic Order was known to be German. Should the other two, supposed to be fanatical Catholics agaisnt Lutherans, also have sits in the Parliament of the Reich?'

'But the Templars, the Jesuits, the Knights of Saint John and all other occult rings placed among hte Latins were really our own, were they not?'

'Certainly, baron, but was it right to give them sits in the German Reich Diet? Would this not make Latins suspicious of a fifth column among them?'

'I suppose it might! Has it been a mistake?'

'Yes and no, baron. But I see that you are not yet ready for such fine points. I will illuminate you more when the time comes.'

'Hoheit knows best.'

‘Now, baron, to the reason I sent the uninitiated out of the cave: it is the story of Colonel Hiroyama. Do you have an idea how we could make the Chinese shoot him?’

‘The Scot has told the story as I knew it, hohait. Hiroyama worked for the baron first and then betrayed him. Naturally, he paid for treason.’

‘My boy, that is the surface and it is time you be shown layers under layers. How easy things would be for us if we could find a Japanese colonel who is capable of changes sides.’

‘But hohait, is it not the easiest thing to do under pressure?’

‘Not for those fanatics, my boy. Karl Edward, duke of Coburg imported back from London, was sure in 1941, that Japan would attack Russia when we pressed on Stalingrad on Volga.’

‘But they did not…’

‘No, they did not. But can you imagine how much they stood to gain if they did? Japan could have all the neutral support of German-Americans, including president Roosevelt and Heinrich Truman. There would be no need for Pearl Harbor.’

‘But then, why did they not cooperate with the Reich against Russia?’

‘I know it is hard to believe my boy, and Karl Edward von Windsor, duke of Albany and Coburg, did not recover from the shock till his death in 1954. he was so sure Japan would attack a prostate Russia.’

‘But why not?’

‘Because, my boy, Japan had signed a treaty of non-aggression with Russia.’

‘Nothing more?’

‘Nothing less, my boy. Those fanatics have never violated a treaty in all their long history.’

‘But hoheit, they are a bunch of liars just like American Indians.’

‘Just like American Indians, how very true, my boy, have they never gone back on a promise they make no matter how much things change and no matter how much more they stand to lose. Danger of Extinction is nothing to them compared to breaking their word.’

‘Fanatics. They are not of this world.’

‘No, my boy, they are of this world. It is a fanatic planet for which we are too good. We deserve a better planet and if we fail to improve this one, I fear we will have to pack and go looking for another planet.’

‘But hoheit, where do we come from?’

‘Ah, my boy, that is the mother of all questions. But one thing is certain. The cunning we exercise is alien to this planet.’

‘But hoheit, the cuckoo, the cowbird…’

‘No, my boy. The cowbird had not this cunning when we landed on the coasts of America.’

‘The European cuckoo then…’

‘Obviously it too had not this cunning before we landed in Westphalia. The birds got the wisdom, which natives would call infection if only they knew about it, from us; after picking on our corpses for generations.’

‘But from where, hoheit. Where do we come from?’

‘My boy, even a claimant to kingdom of Mongolia is not cleared for this mother of all occult secrets. But you are cleared to know how we can make a Colonel Hiroyama appear a renegade who had worked for us even though he never was a renegade and he never had worked for us.’

‘But then…’

‘Yes, the Scot McLean is not clever enough to see through our games; nor was the Latin Machiavelli clever enough to see how we conquered the Spanish Empire in 1506, as soon as we found out Columbus was coming back with gold. Machiavelli was right there in the palace when we did it and yet he could not see.’

‘I have no fear of Latin intelligence.’

‘Baron Ungern-Sternberg, never underestimate the enemy.’

‘Yes Hohait.’

‘Colonel Hiroyama was a most dangerous enemy to our plans. Yet we could not assault him in any direct way. Fanatics are also paranoid; very difficult to get near enough to poison.’

‘I know that, hoheit. They wont trust a doctor whose father was not born in a village they know.’

‘Exactly. They have no respect for reputations made in a cosmopolitan metropolis of mixed populations.’

‘How do we get to them then?’

‘We do not because we cannot. But the news we generate, reach them and make them do things to each other.’

‘Ah, so easy?’

‘But to produce false news, we first need all the correct news there are.’

‘That should be easy; the enemy, the Slav to our east or the Latin to our West, neither is given much to secrecy. A beggar positioned outside a ministry of theirs can list all the people going in and coming out. And it is persons we want to know, not the chatter they produce like birds, for we know all their songs from previous generations.’

‘Exactly. So it was done in Harbin 1920 when Mongols came to the Japanese for help against the mad baron.’

‘The baron had an agent in Harbin?’

‘Lets say, our occult network, closing on China from both sides, from Coburg India and Holstein Russia, had agents everywhere. Naturally the agent must be able to blend into the native street. To train our vassals from stem duchies and then disguise them with paints and surgery is expensive. To breed such operatives in orphanages directly in target countries and under management of our missionaries is much cheaper than make up and training. Have you read the Kipling book on this?’

‘No, hohait.’

‘The title is Kim.’

‘A tale for children, hohait?’

‘Whatever. It is all there, you should know. Except that no Indian is ever told that the power colonizing it is a German king to Britain and Hessian troops. The agent in Harbin who reported the meeting of Mongols with colonel Hiroyama, was Wolfowitz. No pun intended.’

‘Like the deputy secretary of defense who was assaulted in the hotel in Baghdad last week. Any relation?’

‘Possibly, but never mind that now.’

‘A Volga German in Manchuria of 1920. Was he not in danger for his life?’

‘Not at all. He was known there to be a Jew. As safe as safe can be.’

‘Still hard life. Without pork.’

‘Not at all.’

‘But if his cover was Jewish…’

‘A baptized Jew, my dear baron. A modern, progressive jew. We can expect many a sacrifice from the master race but within limits: pork, beer and pretzel with caraway seed cannot be given up even for a kingdom in the Far East.’

‘I see.’

‘Not even in the White house, I might add very confidentially.’

‘I understand. The pretzel incident last year.’

‘The cover was perfect at the time and serves us well even to this day.’

‘How that? The Wolfowitz in Harbin of 1920 must be dead by now.’

‘Yes, but the rumors remain; the records, the leaks, the claims…’

‘And how does that help the Reich even now? Are not leaks to be repaired?’

‘Within limits, baron. You cannot hide every document from everyone for all times. It is not wise to let their contents reach great numbers of natives, like through popular books, because what misleads many may be a hint to some. But if limited to small numbers of natives, unavoidable leaks serve us well.’

‘How in this case?’

‘I have here a book on the baron, your uncle. Let me find it.’

The Elector opened a coffin-like vault and pulled out a book.

‘Here it is: written by a Russian too.
1993 book by Leonid Juzefovic.
Fenomen sud'by barona R. F. Ungern-S'ternberga.
1995 translated into French by Delaby and Beffa
Le prodigieux destin du baron R.F. Ungern-Sternberg.
Le tyran du désert.

And here is page 110 on the agent in Harbin:

'... Ajoutons à cela qu'Ungern ne dédaignait pas d'utiliser les services des commerçants juifs de Chine, grâce auxquels il écoulait le butin pris en Mongolie et qui, bien qu'ils connussent le sort de leurs coreligionnaires, ne refusaient pas de faire affaire avec leur assassin. Le Juif baptisé Vol'fovitch était même agent du baron à Kharbine.'

‘You see baron how the cover serves us still?’

‘What more do you need to confound every analyst? Neither the Slav writer nor the Latin translator could make sense out of the confusion. It all boils down to who is who for the dupes and who is really who and then who is not really who; as Our Minister of War Freiherr von Ruhmsfeld would explain the issue.’

‘I understand.’

‘The baptized Jew Wolfowitz operated as agent of the Baron in Harbin even though he must have known how the baron massacred all the jews he could find.’

‘I see.’

‘A puzzle no native expert of human nature could solve.’

‘And yet the solution was …’

‘As simple as faking an identity. Do you know who Ernst Weiss is?’

‘Hoheit, the phone book of Berlin would have several pages of this name.’

‘Right, well, it was not a real question. Do you know who Harry Houdini was?’

‘I have heard of the magician famous for escaping unnoticed from confined spaces.’ 

‘His real name was Ernst Weiss.’

‘I see.’

‘Now you see and now you don’t. That is the trick.’

‘Real name of Wolfowitz von Far East is Ernst Weiss, then?’

‘Possibly. What matters is that he should appear as something other than Volga German or German at all. A simple swap of identities in the present time confounds all the analysts who might find some of the records in the future. And I mean authentic records; the more of htem they find, the more astray they must go.’

‘I understand.’

‘For some incomprehensible reason, the natives of this planet prefer to believe a law of nature is violated rather than suspecting a mistaken identity.’

‘I have witnessed examples of this.’

‘Tell them a mother killed own baby and they prefer to be shocked rather than find out that the babies were swapped in the hospital. You see, the swapping done by a doctor would be within the margins of commonplace; natives prefer the shocking version; a violation of the strongest bond in life.’

‘I understand.’

‘Well, now, suppose we are in Manchuria when the Mongol delegation meets the Japanese Commanders. It is agreed that Colonel Hiroyama should go on a fact-finding mission. 

'Because the cruelties reported of the Baron are not within range of the credible.'

'Obviously the colonel will act as impartial judge, sort out false rumors from truth and make an alliance between the Chinese and the Mongols against all hostile parties.'

'He has to be stopped by all means.'

'Add to this the fact that our agents cannot approach the Colonel without getting caught. The paranoid Japanese cannot be shot or poisoned without great risk to us. He has no intention of letting Red Cross doctors touch him. What now?’

‘Send him informants with confusing reports.’

‘Not this time and not to this colonel. He will see through every lie and see through the motive in the making of it. He will not let go of the informer but get to the bottom of the source.’

‘Every peace making effort must have at least two sides to the dialogue. Work on the other side. Send confusing reports to the Chinese and Mongols he means to meet.’

‘Exactly! But the stage has to be prepared.’

‘Before telling the Chinese that the Colonel works for the Baron, lure him to the camp of the Baron on promise of whatever is dear to him.’

‘Peace is dear to him; and to them; and it will certainly be achieved if they meet under natural conditions not improved by the artistic hands of our agents.’

‘Promise peace then and once he is in the camp of the baron, delay him there for some time until the Chinese and Mongols find it credible that Hiroyama has united his force with their enemy.’

‘Perfect. Except, there is a snag. The Japanese wont see the enigmatic baron before he meets the simpler parties.'

'What can be done?'

'Start our own caravan on our timing matched to the timetable of the traveling colonel; attack our own caravan with our own Volga Germans dressed as Mongols; let the colonel save the caravan in which is our own Miss Houdini in need of help to reach a place of our own choosing.'

'The baron, my kin planned this?'

'No, his doctors, vassals of my Duchy planned it all. 

'I see.'

'And while the colonel is diverted to uninhabited regions with no witnesses, let his double appear in the camp of the Baron and talk of alliance; and let our own spy working for the Mongols report this to Urga, their capital. 

'Perfect.'


'The diversion and the double are necessary because the real colonel cannot be lured into the camp of the devil, as Chinese and Mongols called the baron.’

‘I thought the word was god of war?’


	Many Bibles


‘Tzagan Burkhan of Mongol fables, god of war of Wilhelm von Rubruck manuscript, Aztec Tezcalipoca of Muller manuscript, who cares! Fables can be edited into religious texts: witness Homer four centuries after that man Moses. It is easy to swap words in manuscripts: Devil for god of war. Important is to not lose the native coloring all together while editing. And once the swapping is done, no native wisdom can undo it. Witness the report on population census.’

‘Which one, Hoheit?’

‘And the more our experts blunder in the past, the more complete the native confusion in the future.’

‘I see.’

‘See better then; go to that dark coffin over there in the dark corner and bring the only book inside it.’

The baron walks to the coffin and opens it. There is not one but a pile of books in it. The baron hesitates and picks one.

‘What is it?’

‘It is the Bible, Hohait.’

‘Pick another one. What is it?’

‘This one is the Bible too, Hohait.’

‘Well, don’t stand there like you are seeing ghosts. Bring both copies to the light.’

The baron comes back and places both books on the table.

‘Open 2 Samuel’

‘It says 2 Kings…’

‘Same thing. Chapter 24 is what we want. Read first verse of Kings.’


‘24:1 And again the anger of the LORD was kindled against Israel, and he moved David against them to say, Go, number Israel and Judah.

‘Who then orders the people to be counted?’

‘The Lord.’

‘Very well. In the book of Kings, the Lord commands. Now in the other copy, open 1 Chronicle.’

‘Yes Hoheit. It is after book of Kings and before book of Ezra.’

‘Chapter 21 is what we want. Read the first verse of Chronicles.’

‘21:1 And Satan stood up against Israel, and provoked David to number Israel.’

‘Who then orders the people to be counted?’

‘Satan.’

‘Very well. In the Chronicles, Satan causes the event. Maybe these are two different events?’

‘Must be, hoheit.’

‘Theology is not your strongest point, Winston.’

‘Hohait?’

‘Never mind. Read verse two from book of Kings.’

‘24:2 For the king said to Joab the captain of the host, which was with him, Go now through all the tribes of Israel, from Dan even to Beersheba, and number ye the people, that I may know the number of the people.’

‘Read verse two from book of Chronicles which is right after book of kings.’

‘21:2 And David said to Joab and to the rulers of the people, Go, number Israel from Beersheba even to Dan; and bring the number of them to me, that I may know it.’

‘King and David are the same person.’

‘But maybe the events are taking place at different times, you think?’

‘Must be.’

‘Read verse 3 of Kings.’

‘24:3 And Joab said unto the king, Now the LORD thy God add unto the people, how many soever they be, an hundredfold, and that the eyes of my lord the king may see it: but why doth my lord the king delight in this thing?’

‘Read verse 3 of Chronicles.’

‘21:3 And Joab answered, The LORD make his people an hundred times so many more as they be: but, my lord the king, are they not all my lord's servants?  Why then doth my lord require this thing? Why will he be a cause of trespass to Israel?’

‘Enough. So it continues to the end. The Satan version was prepared to replace the god version. Blunder was at the time to include them both. But see how it serves us well. We have no problem with either version but in the future, when the time comes, we can use this blemish to discredit every moral precept still in that book.’

‘But hoheit, if the Bible could stand with this blemish for so long, how could it fall with an assault on this point?’

‘It will if we play both sides.'

'How?'

'The party defending it must reject all possibilities of error; deliberate editing or translator errors.'

'In other words, our men must be the defending party.'

'Sure. If left to the Latins, they could easily concede such possibilities and upkeep the morals in the book, ignoring the inconsistencies.'

'Irrational savages.'

'Like the issue of selling indulgences that was made the cause of reformation: Latins had no such thing as selling indulgences. Our cardinals did it with savage exaggeration.'

'And then, our Luther rebelled against the nonsense.'

'But not before a German was made the Pope: Adrian von Utrecht, pope from 1520 to1523.' 

'An Italian Pope would simply say, reform yourselves in Germany, since we have no such nonsense in Italy.'

'The German Pope Adrian however, would raise hell against anyone who found fault with the church.'

'Naturally, no book on the reformation, and there are several millions of them, ever says that the Pope at the time of Luther movement was a German Pope.'

'So, it appears like the rational Germans against the superstitious Latins.'

'Good for our image when luring black haired natives into trap alliances in global wars.'

'I tell you what: though Japan expelled the Jesuits, it thought them Latins, Portuguese to be more precise. To this day, Japan never found out that from 1580 to 1640 Portugal was under German rule and therefore all Jesuits sent to the east or west from Portugal were German Teutonic Order.'

'Probably they dont even know that Spain was under German rule from 1516 to 1700. And that Spanish revolution continued 14 years to block the coming of another German king.'

'Instead, thinking the abomination Portuguese and Latin, Japan assumed its opposite must be good and let in our Dutch.'

'And when hit in Nagasaki, japan never connected this to revenge for German Jesuits of the year 1600 because Japan knew not that a quarter of the United States were German Americans like Heinrich Truman.'

'Just like Spain never found out that in 1898 it was our Theodore Roosevelt, minister of War, who started the American war with Spain, without president McKinley knowing what was going on.'

'Naturally, just like Kennedy and Lyndon Johnson later, or Lincoln and Andrew Johnson before, the Teutonic Order made our man president by murder.'

'I have no problems with American democracy, for as long as it can be tempered with assassination; which reminds me of General Wesley Clark in the next elections, but then, let Hesse worry about that for the time being.’

‘I understand.’ said the baron philosophically.

‘So it is with the myths we write for the Aztecs, for the Mongols, for every tribe and nation on this planet.'

'To swap words comes very natural to our experts.'

'Not that it is a big deal since any virus does the same to the words of genetic code of the host. Important is that natives do not have such an instinct and therefore they cannot resort what we have confounded.’

‘I understand that natives of Mongolia called my Uncle the devil but our experts translated it as the god of war.’

‘Exactly, baron. Now, we will hear the rest of the story as compiled by the Scot McLean when he was in Moscow 1936 and met a few witnesses of those events; but of course, like all natives he preferred a document, where he could find one, to any witness and that is fortunate for us. Documents are our domain wheras survivors can be our doom.'

'I understand.'

'You may go out and bring back my expert.’


	Chapter 6-  HOW COLONEL HIROYAMA WAS TRAPPED


	Alien Impersonators

The baron walked to the door and returned with the Nosferatu and the hacker in the tow.

‘My Hagbard Celine, proceed with the story.’ said the Elector.

‘...The same night Colonel Hiroyama, who had been commanding a Japanese detachment serving with the Baron, managed to escape and make his way to Urga to give himself up. But this did not worry the Baron, who simply sent a message to his Chinese enemies to warn them that he was really a Russian spy, with the result that on his arrival in Urga the colonel was immediately executed.’

‘The double leaves our camp just before the real colonel is to enter the Mongol Capital. Proceed.’

‘...Before launching his third attack on the Holy City, Baron Ungern, in the hope of saving ammunition and gaining some recruits, sent an ultimatum calling on the Chinese garrison to surrender and offering to enroll them in his army.'

'Naturally the Baron does this in the name of Holy Russia, so they must retaliate accordingly.'

'...But this offer they rejected out of hand and retaliated by arresting all the Russians in Urga, looting the Russian Cathedral and Consulate and fining the Living Buddha 200,000 dollars.’

'Naturally the baron has his underground Volga Germans in the town who start looting. Among them being Jews, of pork eating kind with German names, this will later make it difficult for the Mongols to save the real Jews from the Baron.' interpreted baron Ungern-Sternberg II in admiration of his predecessor. 

The Elector nodded and expanded more on the subject.

‘Once the identities are swapped, the more cruel you act towards one of your targets, the better; the bitter party will make your other target pay for the savagery.' 

'It works every time.' agreed the Nosferatu who had been standing like a vessel full of ancient wisdom of darkest kind.

The Elector nodded again, but less like agreement and more like annoyed at the interruption, and continued to illuminate the subject.

'The Chinese have no notion of who really is hitting them from Coburg India and Holstein Volga. The animals can perceive only the visible colors and textiles and these are either Mongolian or Russian. To this day, General Rennenkampf who invaded Peking in 1900 nor Governor general Kaufman of central Asia from 1867 onward, neither one appear as German official of a German Czar in any book in China.'

The Elector made a pause until the importance of his analysis would sink in minds of his listeners.

'Let loose SARS II on them and whom they will cooperate with? Why, the very same lab that produced the beast in the first place. Such is the intelligence level of this last obstacle to our project, this last defender of the planet. But still, never underestimate the enemy, never hurry things, never plan for shorter than three generations.'

'These brutes cannot connect if the plan stretches across generations.' contributed the ancient Nosferatu who had the advantage of generations.

'Natives can be dangerous if they connect beginning and end of our project. Why do you think Mongols of 1240 could crush our Teutonic Order? Because they connected similarities between the early stages of the Assassins in the Persian Gulf and the later stages of the Teutonic Order in the Baltic. An accident of geographical nature caused the recognition of the same beast in two different stages of development. Mongols realised that it was the same organism growing and expanding in these far places. 

'No other target nation was geographically so placed to notice this except the Mongols.' said the Nosferatu as if he had been around since those events centuries before. 

The Elector ramained silent for some time and looked at each face around him like in an exercise of generosity. Probably he was allowing them to speak if they so wished and probably they misunderstood the pause as irritation at interruptions; none spoke. Then the Elector motioned to the hacker with laptop to continue.

'But, what of a failure per century? Natives forget: we, the predators, learn from it;. Proceed, Hagbard.’

The hacker read from the laptop. It was still the Mad Baron chapter of Mclean book, Holy Russia.

'...But the Baron's plans, by whatever means they were evolved, did not in the event prove unsuccessful. The attack was due to go in on the night of 31 January- 1 February.'

'It must have been very cold in camps outside the town.' said the heir of the mad Baron.

The hacker paused until the Elector signalled he should resume reading.

'... It was bitterly cold. As a first step the Baron gave orders for small groups of men to light big fires in the hills above Urga, so as to make the enemy think that his troops were more numerous than in fact they were.'

'Works only if there are embedded agitators inside the town.' clarified the Nosferatu.

'... This stratagem worked so well that the Chinese, despite their greatly superior numbers, actually sent off a messenger across a thousand miles of Gobi to Peking to beg for reinforcements.'

The Elector stopped the reading hacker and gave an overview of the situation.

‘This is still February 1921. China itself is under thick fog of Coburg Opium dens. The outpost in Mongolia cannot be drugged but can be diverted to wrong enemy. Otherwise, this healthy outpost might turn back and liberate China from the empire of Coburg-London, which they knew as the British Empire. At this same time, the middle third of Africa belongs to the empire of Coburg-Brussels. Angola and Mozambic which belonged to Coburg-Lisabon are transferred unofficially to Brussels when in 1908 the Portuguese Latins shot the Coburg king and prince on the streets of Lisabon. In the Balkans, Bulgaria is under Coburg too. Indonesia is under Nassau-Amsterdam, in full cooperation with Coburg. Syria is under military government of Maxime Weygand-Coburg, son of Charlotte Coburg-Brussels. This gives you an idea where the plans of the Baron are made: in the Duchy of my vassal house Saxe-Coburg-Gotha; by Karl Edward, prince of Britain, duke of Albany in England and Coburg in Germany. At the time and at most times Coburg is the command center for all operations involving half of the globe, which is at the time under Coburg kings, vassals of my vassal. Proceed.’

The hacker took sometime to absorb the Electoral data which was probably not to be found among the three billion gigabytes available to him on the World Wide Web. Then he continued reading from the chapter on events of 1921 Mongolia written in 1936 by the Scotsman who would later work for the British Intelligence and provide the model for creation of James Bond by Ian Fleming.

'...Accordingly, while the other two groups made a strong frontal attack on the Chinese positions, the special raiding party climbed the sacred mountain, burst into the palace, seized the Bogda Gegen, and, bundling the blind old man on to a horse between those of two Tibetan lamas, galloped away with him as fast as they could. 

'Stupid Chinamen never knew what hit them.' 

'... In the course of these engagements, the 12,000 Chinese defenders suffered very heavy casualties and also lost a good number of guns, machineguns and ammunition, which were promptly turned against them by the Baron's troops.'


	Spanish Influenza

Elector of Saxony was examining the heir to the Mad Baron. He motioned to the hacker to pause and then explained for the benefit of the future king of Mongolia:

‘Had those 12,000 Chinese troops decided to march back and liberate Peking from Coburg tutelage, they could not be stopped. Remember that this is year 1921, just three years after the Spanish Influenza that killed fifty million adult members of the Teutonic Order worldwide. The damaged nets were not repaired yet.’

The heir to kingdom of Mongolia was suddenly very excited and the cause of it came out of his mouth.

'Spanish Influenza!' cried the baron as if he was hit by an unseen enemy.

The Elector was not surprised. He growled a jawohl as if he had expected something like this. After some deliberation with his innermost secrets, he must have decided to expand on this subject. He moved to some distance from all those present and prepared for a weighty speech.

'It happened in the year our armies entered those lands many call holy. It was the year 1918. Our officers were commanding both sides of the great war. Though Hesse-Battenberg was no longer supreme commander of the allies, our officers promoted by him were all in places of command. As for our side of the front, naturally our officers commanded our armies and those of our allies. Armies levied from the British commonwealth of my vassal Konig Georg V von Coburg were naturally all under command of the Master Race. Those levied from Australia and new Zealand were under our Monasch von Schlesien; resisting him in Gallipoli, and later in Palestine too, was our Liman von Sanders fon Schlesien. We had perfect control of the war.'

'Both sides locked in mortal combat in Eastern mediterranean were under Schlesian brotherhood?' asked the baron incredibly.

'Naturally. Schlesien in Saxony has given many a pair of commandors to conflicting sides in all major wars. There is no better way of micro managing in wars which millions should die and which divisions survive.'

'Naturally.' agreed the baron with a question in his eyes.

'Schlesien is a natural part of Saxony; was officially so until 1742 when our house let Prussia have it. War of Austrian Succession it was and a couple of electors had to be on side of France; a couple of electors against the elector of Brandenburg who is also Grand Master of the teutonic order apart from being king of Prussia.'

'I Understand.' said the baron.

'We did not want a dissident generation to rise in Australia; a point not less important than occupying the lands many superstitious folks call holy.'

'Of course.' agreed the baron again.

'It had been a perfect war: all major goals achieved, except of course Russia, but given the size of landed estate brought under Coburg-London, we had no doubt of breaking Russia again and putting it under German czars again.'

'But it was not to be.' said the Nosferatu filled with ancient wisdoms.

'It was not to be because of the Spanish Influenza!' said the Elector with authority. Clearly, this was a subject that moved him in mysterious directions.

'There had been no mistake on our part, except a few Hessian blunders in Russia. The two alliances were planned with perfect precision; dissidents of all countries already under German kings were herded into trenches they dug for themselves, to never come out alive: Scots, Irish, Balkan Slavs, Latins, Russians.'

'Then something went wrong.' said the Nosferatu.

The Elector turend to him with great irritation.

'Very well, my secret and most ancient councillor, you tell the tale then.'

The Nosferatu must be expecting this. probably the scene had been played many times before. He moved to a place near his Elector and explained.

'Just after all the objectives were achieved and the only exception that was Russia was about to be remedied by a total blockade of the natives who had toppled their german Czar, we were hit by an unseen enemy.'

'Come to the point.' snapped his Elector.

'In the winter of 1918, we had navies in all oceans. It was the greatest of deployments in the history of this planet. practically the youth of half the globe had been drafted into armies of either side, both sides under our officers naturally, and a great amount had been at see. Australians to Palestine, Americans to Vladivostock, Japanese to Siberia, British to everywhere. and then, from october of 1918 onward, every ship that arrived its destination arrived as a ship of death; full of dead soldiers; all died of Spanish Influenza.'

'Why Spanish? Was that country not neutral in the war?' asked the baron.

'Of course it was neutral,' snapped the Elector again. The reich never attacks a dark horse; and such is a kingdom not under a German king. That is why, in both great wars, Spain and Sweden could not be occupied. besides, what is the point? We occupy a country that is under a german king to get rid of his dissidents for him. What other point is there to occupation? You cannot usurp a crown by occupation in open war. You must have done so before you start a war or you destroy the native elite in the war and prepare tu usurp the crown long later, much later.

The Nosferatu waited until all was quiet again. Then, in a voice like from beyond the grave, he resumed:

'Fifty million adult males died in the winter of 1918, just after we had occupied the land many call holy.'

The Elector nodded approvingly, probably at the choice of words.

'And the next roll call of our lodges and cells in all colonies showed that our global network was no more. Our deep infiltrated agents everywhere were dead; all died of Spanish influenza. Without the underground among all nations, we were bankrupt. All our gold was worthless without the organizations to create the demand for it.'

The Nosferatu paused. The Elector wanted him to continue.

'He has a theory he did not mention, the old fool,' said the Elector to the audience.

The Nosferatu added reluctantly.

'I think the Spanish Influenza targeted the master race.'

'Why should it?' prompted the elector as if they had not had this conversation before.

'It happened like way back on the Nile.'

'He means the man Moses confronted our Ramses.'

'Merneptah, not Ramses,' corrected the relic of the Old Kingdom on the Nile, with unexpected defiance.

'As you wish,' said the duke, 'but why would a flu target us?'

'Our folk never could find out how the curse of Moses killed the first born of every house on the Nile, in Crete and in the islands.'

The Elector looked uncomfortably at his young vasals, the baron, the hacker and the secret Rat and let a terrible laughter fill the cave.

'My Oldest Secret rat reads too many books on papyrii removed from mummies of the Nile. So many that he identifies with them.'

Then, he truned to his ancient counciller.

'What was special about the first borns on the Nile?'

'They were of the Master race seed.'

'And the others of each house?'

'They were just native Africans.'

'How that?' asked the Elector but left no doubt that he already knew the answer. The Nosferatu hesitated. His initial excietement was over and now he did take notice of the youth in presence. Perhaps he was considering how much was allowed to reveal in the present company.

'Jus Primae Noctis.' he said at last and they all seemed to understand his meaning.

The Nosferatu was exhausted; he gratefully took a seat the Elector led him to. Then, the Elector rounded up the issue.

'My Ancient Geheim Rat believes that whatever it was that in time of that man Moses could distinguish the cuckoo egg in each African house on the Nile did it again when our armies occupied the lands many fools call holly. His last will and testament is that we should not approach those lands; that we should pull out all our divisions there, even those planted as if Hebrews, prok eating version of course.'

'Makes sense,' said the future king of Mongolia.

'Sense or no sense, we cannot. For as long as we dare not violate the treaties with America, for as long as we cannot openly become a nuclear power, for as long as the Latin enemy next door has his nuclear deterrant, Force de Frappe, we need a safe place to keep our two hundread nuclear heads. And there is no land for such an errand, safer than the lands many fools call holy. failure in South Africa proves the point.'

The company fidgeted in fear as if an invisible enemy might attack them any moment now.

The Elector noticed the uneasiness. So, he shifted into a jokular mood.

'The old fool scared us all... he caused me to think of Shakespeare; King John. There is a native English Baron there who disinherits his first born.'

'Why?' asked the baron.

'Because the first born is not a native but a Plantagenet from the Nile, I mean from the Rhine.'

'Illegitimate son of Richard the Lionhearted' added the hacker.'

'Go on, my Hagbard,' said the elector.

'Well, the disinherited cuckoo goes to King John and claims the heirloom. he is knighted and put in command of an army against France.'

'Does Shakespeare ever mention that a son of that King John came back from England to Germany and was elected the kaiser of Holy Romani Germani reich?'

'He does not.'

'Not in the play titled King John?'

'Nor in any other extant text of the Scottish bard many call Shakespeare.' said the hacker.

'Enough diversion, my Hagbard, let us resume the story of our Mad baron in Mongolia.' siad the Elector and threw an affectionate glance at the Nosferatu who had collapsed into the chair and become oblivious to all talk around him. During the following proceedings, the elector continued to look in the direction of the old man, posibly his link to some ancient occult thing.'


	More of Mad Baron

'Read on, my Hagbard,' said Elector of the Holy Romany Germany Reich.

'...By midday a couple of thousand Chinese had taken to their heels and the remainder had barricaded themselves as best they could into several buildings in the centre of the city, notably the Bulun Barracks, the Russian Consulate, and the solidly built offices of the Russian Goldmining Company.'

At mention of a Russian Gold Mining Company in Mongolia of 1921, all the audience laughed merrily as if this had been a house joke. Even the ancient and exhosted Nosferatu revived in his chair. The Elector watched his broot in admiration and explained.

‘You guess right; the gold mining company is no other than the Teutonic Order. Like mining companies all over Latin America. Especially those in Mexico during the long reign of our Cuna baby Santa Anna who served us so well.'

'What is a Cuna?' asked the young future king of Mongolia. 

Heir to Baron Ungern-Sternberg would probably need all the knowhow of countless generations developed by the alien species among natives of this planet if he was to be more successful than the original mad baron. He would need all the tricks of his kin to maintain a perilous throne on the gates of China, the last trench in defence of the planet; a planet under attack by a vicious parasite who defied sum total of the native logic the planet might boast of.

None spoke. The Elector continued.

'Near each German mining company in Mexico of the generations prior to 1863, there is a foundling house, a Cuna, under charge of German missionaries. That was the secret that broke the Mexican Empire, ceded territories from it, annexed them to America as Slavery States until these became majority against free states; this in turn, made the secession of Southern States possible. Civil war in America followed. The objective failed; it was the breaking up of landed estate that was the Untied States of America into Duchies under German dukes. Anachronically I might say, to Balkanize America was the plan; but it was the other way around. Failing to fragment America, we applied the same plan to the Balkans; same lodges, same grandmasters, same Templars, same Jesuits. Had Lincoln not prevented the decreed fate, the phrase would be to Americanize the Balkans. Continue.’

'...Soon his men were in amongst the Chinese, bayoneting them where they stood, while the Cossacks attacked them from the rear. In the savage street-fighting that followed the attackers blew in the doors and windows of the houses with hand-grenades and then set fire to the buildings. Before long the battle had become a massacre and the whole town was given over to murder and looting by the Baron's victorious army.

‘This is capital of Mongolia on February the first of 1921. None of this could be achieved, were Peking not in hand of Coburg-London like a Lama  in the coils of a boa constrictor.’

‘A participant has left a lively account of the proceedings…’

‘That is the part that will appeal to you most, baron,' said the Elector. 'Let us see the Teutonic Order in real action.’

The Baltic Baron preparing to become king of Mongolia must have known what to expect after his species overpower the defences of a city; he pricked his ears while licking his front limbs.

'...Mad with revenge and hatred, the conquerors began plundering the city. Drunken horsemen galloped along the streets shooting and killing at their fancy, dragging things outside into the filthy streets, dressing themselves in rich silks found in the shops. In front of the Chinese banks lines were formed. Each man was allowed to plunge his bloody hands into the safes and take out what his luck brought him. Some were lucky enough to pull out gold coins and bullion. Some were less fortunate and only got silver.'

'Most of that gold and silver is in Vaduz, Lichtenstein,' explained the Elector with a sigh as if his house had been cheated out of their rightful share of the booty. 

What a parasitic and treacherous species, I could not help wondering, to pillage even the Mongols in far off Ulan Bator and yet fill the libraries of this planet with stories of horrid detail and precision on how it was the Mongols who did such things to nations. With hindsight now I am astonished at the naivity of the elite of all the nations who mistook such books for documents or written material, without ever wondering how come the most chilling details of Mongol cruelty were always revealed by German scholars. No wonder the accounts of horror had a somehow credible structure and consistency; these savageries had been real, except Mongols, like all other native races of the planet, had been the victims, not the predators. The parasite had been progressing along a bloody path while attributing his own evil to native nations right and left.

'Well go on.' urged the Elector like ordering sweets after a good meal.

The hacker resumed reading which all were awaiting impatiently.

'... Jokes and laughter drowned the noise of the fighting. There were some remarkable scenes, too, when the Chinese prisons were opened and the Russian prisoners set free. Crazed by hunger, they threw themselves on any food they could find, tearing raw meat with their teeth like wild beasts. Mad with joy, they kissed all the horsemen within reach.'

Elector of Saxony looked at the watery and dripping mouth of the Baron with approval. 

‘My cute cannibals. It is wise to not say the released prisoners were Volga Germans, cells and lodges, that were freed by the baron; the primary aim of the whole expensive operation. A German Baron, and never say he is German, risks everything to release Russian prisoners of the Chinese, while he himself is in rebellion against the Russian government. To simply make the prisoners appear Russian confounds every analyst. A swapped identity can work better than an extra division on any front.’

'Read further. Such an expensive operation must achieve several other objectives to become feasible. The least to do is to locate a minority among the peaceful majority and devour them; that confuses many if not all because they wonder what the minority must have done to deserve such treatment; they understand the horror per se only after the majority itself must share the same fate but then it is too late for them to resist or to smuggle out a message about what what exactly was done to them and by whom. Read further.'

'...Led by Dr Klingenberg, the Baron's chief medical officer, the mob now attacked the Jews and all of them perished in agony. The humiliation of the women was so awful that I saw one of the officers run inside a house with a razor and offer to let a girl commit suicide before she was attacked. With tears of gratitude she thanked him in a few simple words and then cut her throat.'

‘Dr. Klingenberg is the participant who made this lively record. He had to report to the Teutonic Order, of course. Some of his reports were captured on the baron when he was caught by the Russians. That is how natives like Scot McLean knew of them.’

'...The drunken mob invented a new sport, which consisted of killing people in the streets by hitting them in the face with thick wooden blocks. One Cossack was killing his own men left and right until someone shot him. Cadet Smirnov chose to strangle old ladies, because he enjoyed seeing them wriggle as he broke their necks. Mr Olsen, a Dane, was dragged along the streets by a rope tied to a wild horse until he was dead. Many women offered to sell themselves to save the lives of their husbands and brothers. But, as often as not, they were cheated in the end.'

‘See how simply the swapping of names works. Just swap Mr. Olsen the German and Cadet Smirnov and everything fits in place nicely. Very little editing necessary: Dane for German lest someone notice the overabundance of Germans, in every theater of massacres; even if the record says they were victims.’

'...At first the Mongols had welcomed Baron Ungern and his men as liberators. It was not long before they discovered their mistake. Entering Urga at the head of his victorious army, into which he had managed to instill a measure of discipline by dint of massive floggings and executions, the Baron, on whom the Living Buddha had by now obligingly bestowed the exalted title of Khan, at once announced his intention of liquidating all those who had had any dealings either with the Chinese or with the Bolsheviks-in short the greater part of the population.

‘Very elegant. You can guess that the Blind Old Mongol had no say in the affairs. Our doctors publicized him as the living Buddha; our doctors bestowed on him authority; and our doctors said he had delegated the authority to the Baron. Naturally these cosmic happenings were announced by Volga Germans dressed in garbs of all nations near and far. Even an Aztec priest was there, to tell the Mongols in Volga accented Russian that the Baron was reincarnation of Hermann Cortez. He could not know that the name said nothing to Mongols, but what matters is the style in which such revelations are announced. No nonsense that is delivered in appropriate theatrical style ever passes without producing some effect to the confusion of natives. All very elegantly performed. I would love the costumes. Maybe I should commission an opera of the event. Proceed.’

'...At the same time the Living Buddha, 'a stout old man with a heavy shaven face resembling those of the Cardinals of Rome' and 'wide-open, blind eyes', was proclaimed Emperor of All Mongolia, with Ungern doubling the roles of Military Adviser and God of War. The Baron now instituted a reign of terror for which it would be hard to find a parallel, and which he only interrupted for occasional sorties against such Chinese as still remained in the country.

'Freiherr von Robespierre!' said the ancient Nosferatu from his chair in darkness.

Elector looked in the direction with displeasure and then rapidly resumed his talk as if he did not want a diversion implied by whatever it was the ancient Geheim rat implied.

‘You get it, don’t you! At some point it became necessary to make the Old Mongol address the broken people from a balcony like in Rome. Naturally, he looked like a twin of Dr. Klingenberg in costume. These costume arts are practiced in the carnival of Venice ever since the beginnings of the First Reich in the year 971.’

After another pause, the Elector pointed at the laptop and urged the hacker to read more.

'Go on. I want to know if any Jew could get out of Mongolia alive to tell the world what was happening. I want to know if anyone at all got out alive besides our own field operatives inside all groups, factions and sects.'

'...Contemporary accounts abound in tales of baker's boys being baked alive in their own ovens; of sacks filled with human ears; of elderly Tartars driven up on the roofs of their homes in midwinter and kept dancing there like madmen to stop themselves freezing to death; of young women being raped to death by whole squadrons of Mongol cavalrymen; of Jews having water poured over them till their arms or legs froze stiff and could be snapped off at will; of prisoners being fed to the Baron's private pack of wolves; of innumerable men, women and children of all ages, races and creeds being hacked to bits and bayoneted and shot and strangled and hung and crucified and burnt alive, whenever possible in the presence of the Baron himself, who, we are told, watched their widely varying death struggles with glee, though, when it came to the point, his 'favourite and most-used penalty was lashing to death.'

	Baron Sebottendorff

‘All of this was done by squadrons of Volga Germans in costume of Mongol cavalrymen. Exquisite art. A foretaste in 1921, of the Third Reich to come in 1933. This reminds me of my vassal Rudolf Glauer become baron von Sebottendorff; adopted by Baron Heinrich von Sebottendorff in Turkey in 1911.’

The Elector was preparing for a necessary excursion. His brood were all ears.

'Have you got his files in that laptop, my Hagbard?' asked the ELector.

'I have.'

'Give us some background then.'

‘I have here what researcher Ellic Howe writes about Sebottendorff.'

'Read it.'

‘...In 1920, out of this eccentric landscape emerged Baron Rudolf Freiherr von Sebottendorff, the prototype Nazi, before Adolf Hitler made his first public appearance. He founded the Thule Society and in 1918, purchased the Munchener Beobachter, a weekly Munich newspaper which he transformed into an anti-Semitic organ of the Thule Society. Little has actually been written about Sebottendorff, other than that he was  a Turkish citizen, claiming to have been adopted, who was probably familiar with Sufi and Islamic literature.’

‘What else, my boy?’

‘...Sebottendorff was an initiate of the  Eastern mysteries in Turkey  as well as of Freemasonry. "Just before World War I he made several trips to the Near East. During the Balkan War of 1912-1913, he directed the  Turkish Red Crescent and was named a Master of the Order of the RoseGarland (Rosenkranz)." In 1910, while living in Istanbul, Sebottendorff controlled his own secret society based on a combination of Islamic Sufi mysticism, masonry, alchemy and anti-Bolshevik ideology.’

‘Parallels are too striking, you find, my boy? Except in Mongolia the cant has to be Buddhist and here Sufi. But I warn you, my Hagbard: beware of knowing too much before your initiation. Only then are you to be told about similar Teutonic Barons all over the globe then in 1920 and now. Of similar baronic projects in Paraguay from the war of total extermination managed by our mystic lodges in 1867 to cloaked German King Stroessner of 1955-1995, I will tell you after your initiation to the higher degree of the occult. But for now, proceed with Mongolia.’

‘...By all accounts most of the men around Ungern seem to have shared his tastes and inclinations. His adjutant Ensign Burdukovski, otherwise known as Teapot, is described as 'the gayest of the murderers' a 'huge powerful animal' who was always present when Ungern received a visitor. Tall and heavily built, he had a vast body, deep-chested with massive arms and legs. His little curly blond head rested on broad shoulders. His small colourless blue eyes, cold and expressionless, looked out from under a low, narrow forehead. 

‘Blond head, blue eyes! Typical Mongol, would you not agree? Of course all of the Teutonic Neanderthals around our baron are blond and blue eyed. Probably the father of the Baron personally fathered half of them on the Baltic estate; Jus Primae Noctis. Family resemblance is unmistakable. But once a document says they are Mongols, just sit back and watch the native scholars making heads and tails of the issue. I hate the phrase Fragile X though. Proceed.’

‘...His unusual nickname had not been idly given. Should the Baron in the course of an interview ask for 'a teapot' Burdukovski knew exactly what to do. Cautiously, he would approach the visitor from behind and then suddenly strangle him to death with his powerful hands.’

‘Vehmic execution; standard procedure.’

'...By some authorities, notably Dr Ossendowski, Colonel Sepailov, for a time the commandant of Urga, is represented as Baron Ungern's evil genius, 'the darkest person on the canvas of Mongolian events', 'the inventive genius of the most outrageous murders'.

‘Darkest meaning the most blond.’

‘...Though usually accompanied by two professional executioners, he preferred, we are told, to carry out as many executions as possible himself, singing and joking as he performed the grisly task.’

‘Spirit of dedication and responsibility; made the Strurm Staffel, our dear SS, so efficient. McLean writes this in 1936 but he has no idea that such is the ideal performance of the officers of the Third Reich. But it is easy to be thus perfect in the overall atmosphere of discipline of the Third Reich. To be so in far off Mongolia or Paraguay without compromise is an occasion that makes me proud of my vassals.’

‘...Even the Baron became uneasy at his excesses, and twice appointed a commission of surgeons to examine him in the hope that they would prescribe a rest cure.’

‘Standard procedure. Probably the examination was performed shortly before St. Vitus day, June 22, when suddenly the blood boils in the veins of the master race wherever we may be. Dances need to be organized for the most active, to hide the compulsive urge to jump; the drang nach cemetaries, the urge to open graves.’

‘...But Sepailov countered by finding a witch-doctor in Transbaikalia who prophesied that the Baron would die if he ever dispensed with his services, and thus successfully secured his own continued emloyment.’

‘That is Hesse all over again; did it to explain the never existent influence of Rasputin too; Why does the Czarina appoint those ministers? Was the list sent by her brother the Duke of Hesse from Frankfurt? Of course not, stupid! Drunk monk Rasputin in the bar scribbled those names on a piece of packing paper and sent to the Winter Palace; but why could the Czarina not refuse him? Because if he desert the royals, they will die; the prophesy, you know. The irony of it is that two years after Rasputin dies, all the royal Romany Germany ruling family of Russia is executed. Fates! make me not target to prophesies of Hesse.’

‘...General Rezhukin's adjutant was Captain Veselosvki, a tall young man with long curly red hair and an unusually white face, heavy and stolid with large steel-cold eyes and beautiful, tender, almost girlish lips. 'In his eyes', we are told, 'there was such cold cruelty that it was quite unpleasant to look at his otherwise fine face.'

‘Red hair, blue eyes; one of the many half brothers of the baron form the Baltic estate.’

'...Ungern's easy victory at Urga had gone to his head. Confirmed in his belief that he was a military genius with a divinely ordained mission, he now decided to extend his operations across the border into Russian territory, where he was convinced that the population, groaning under Bolshevik oppression, would flock in their thousands to join him in his triumphal march on Moscow.

‘That is March 1921 and our baron has taken capital of Mongolia from twelve thousand Chinese troops. This is the time he produces a flag and coat of arms as king of Mongolia. Continue.’

‘...The Bolsheviks for their part were by now becoming seriously disturbed at the Baron's activities.'

'That is the native half of the Bolsheviks, the other half being Crypto-Germans from Volga. Good thing the real Hebrew jakov Swordlov died of Spanish Influenza in the spring of 1919; only months after he ordered the Holstein-Hesse Czar and Czarina executed.'

'But I thought the Spanish Flu killed only our folks on all continents.'

'Naturally, but there were a few exceptions, thanks to our doctors in far lands. A village of Eskimos died out completely from Spanish Influenza, thanks to our missionaries in its vicinity. But no negroes of America were among the fifty million deaths form Spanish Influenza of winter 1918 because they were too poor to visit our doctors in America.' 

'Could we not offer to pay their bills?' asked the hacker in a disobedient or naughty way.

'It wont do, my Hagbard,; said the Elector. 'Target becomes suspicious unless he must pay dearly out of his own pocket. never offer free poison cheese, for they wont eat it. Natives, Puah!'

'...Towards the end of 1920, after Ungern's first attack on Urga, Sukhe Bator and his companions had left Irkutsk and moved to the Mongolian frontier near Kyakhta, where they set about organizing a revolutionary party and government in exile.’

‘In 1920, Poland, to which Elector of Saxony, my house, is the only legitimate king, was used at this junction to divert the red Army from the Baron in Mongolia. In May, Poland declares war on Russia; in August, US warships are brought to Danzig to challenge the Red Army; Royal Air force appears over Poland in full formation to protect the poor little Poland; in October, Poland takes prisoner twenty thousand red army troops before signing an armistice. Thus the Baron is given ample time to do his thing in Mongolia, defeating China on the one hand, and preparing to restore the German Czar with the help of so many duped nationalities on the other hand.'

The hacker was taking notes onto a piece of paper he had placed on the laptop. The Elector paused, walked to him, took the paper and placed it in his pocket while eying the hacker with a reproachful look. Then he continued. 

'I tell you, it was the most expensive project of the Reich running at the time. All dukes contributed to it and all dupes of the planet were mobilized for it. With 25% of the United States ethnic Germans, it is up to our lodges to decide when the US navy should enter Danzig Haven, when to stay away from France and hang around Pearl Harbor, Hawaii, on the exact opposite side of the planet, when to send a battle ship Maine to Cuba and when allow it to blast and sink so that Spain can be blamed; too easy! Like piece of pretzel with caraway seed on it.’

He took the paper out of his pocket and examined the lines on it which were meaningless scribbles. He walked to the hacker and returned the paper. 

‘Let me reflect on what else was happening in the year 1920: Seventh Olympic Games in Antwerp from May to August; excellent cover for the Vehmic Teutonic Grandmasters to address general assemblies of operatives from all over the globe and to coordinate the operations on global scale.'

He paused again. The ancient Nosferatu who had been motionless and quiet like a mummy wrapped in black papyrus coated with tar, uttered a single word:

'Ireland!'

The elector welcomed the utterance with a nod.

'Unfortunately the Irish somehow sensed that all the occult lodges of the Coburg were engaged elsewhere on the planet and they rebelled massively, forcing the hand of George V Coburg to sign in December the bill for partition of Ireland. Nevertheless, Sinn Fein founder Griffith could be arrested in November. Except Ireland, we were having successes again and repairing the loss of fifty million field operatives to the Spanish Influenza. We were having successes elsewhere.'

The Elector was preparing to give examples.

The Nosferatu uttered another word:

'India!'


'Yes, in the same November 1920, congress of India for independence was made to choose non-violent resistance just when slightest violence would  give them independence.'

The Elector turned to the hacker:

'What else, in the year 1920, my Hagbard?'

Hacker read from the laptop:

'Scotland rejects prohibition after big debate 12/20; Nine million cars in USA 2/21; Ford makes a million cars a year 4/21.’

‘Enough, my Hagbard. Enough for now. I have some domestic trouble to attend to for which I must prepare.’

The Elector said no more until every one of his company departed, even the ancient Nosferatu went away unwillingly. Then he relaxed the Prussian officer posture and walked to a sarcophagus like a zombi tired of cave light. He opened the cover, laid inside the coffin and pulled the cover back to its place.

There was nothing interesting to see in the castle of this Elector for some time to come. Our Seiko flying camera stayed fixed on the sealed sarcophagus; obviously neither the limited autarch software the camera had, nor the operation system in the main frame computer of the space orb which might direct the camera, were not able to redirect the camera to follow any one of those who left the Elector. Come to think of it, even I could not guess which of them would be worth to follow. The Nosferatu might attend to some secret archives at deeper levels of the cave but then he might simply go and sleep in a coffin second in class to that of his elector. The Baron did not appear a reading type; he would probably join a drinking party with other barons like himself, each claiming a kingdom somewhere on the planet. The hacker might be the most interesting of them to trace; but then he might simply go back to maintain and improve programs that produced spam mail in millions. No, it was not easy to decide which of the cabal was worth monitoring. When in doubt, do nothing: the camera had followed this golden rule.


	Chapter 7- TRAPPED IN BAVARIA


	The Unknown Superior

Carlos Lehder Rivas was making a call from the same subterranean office in Ingolstadt, Bavaria. This was his first attempt to contact anyone since his call to Warsaw. Neither had he been called from outside. He was oblivious of the events outside, the three kill jobs he ordered. Each of his murder teams was destabilised in a different duchy and each malfunction had alarmed at the highest level the invisible medieval government of the duchy it fell under the jurisdiction of. A cobweb of occult connections had been activated in each duchy separately. Geheim Rats of each of the three duchies had found out that the incident involved an operation originating from Bavaria, and one of the duchies, Coburg, had attempted to contact the Elector of Bavaria to clarify the background. While an ancient machinary in its triplicate copies went into motion, no feedback had reached to the person who had activated three operations by three phone calls. 

Carlos Lehder Rivas was in total darkness on the fate of his operations. Judging by the irritation he showed, obviously he knew somethings had gone amiss. Maybe there had been priorly agreed procedures for as long as things progressed as planned. Absence of feedback from every one of his three teams might tell him that things were amiss, that things had gone wrong three times in three separate duchies.

As Lehder completed the dialing, a new monitor went live.

'Receiving Coordinates, Pullach, Bavaria, X... Y...'

I remembered this had been the very first of building object we had monitored; the starting point of the trail that took us to Ingolstadt and to three hit zones and the three dukal governments. This had been the biggest headquarters of spooks in Europe during the half century of cold war. Carlos Lehder Rivas had an office here, he had received the three murder contracts here and from here he had driven to Ingolstadt to manage the contracts. He was reporting back within his regular hierarchy. Quite natural, I thought; what else can the creature do!

It is true that we had a camera in this building in the very beginning of this adventure but that camera had left the building along with Rivas and driven in his car all the way to Ingolstadt. It was through this camera that we were watching Rivas. When he called his point of departure, the operating system of the Space Orb Surveillence dispatched another camera; directly to the communications room of the spooks headquarters in Pullach; the view appeared on the last monitor of the bottom raw in the space orb.

'Here Lehder!' said Carlos Rivas from Ingolstadt on the earlier monitor and gave a code.

'Top priority' translated the communication room of Pullach on the latest monitor and connected the call from outside to an extension line which might or might not be in the building.

This was a problem for our camera in the communications room. obviously it could not navigate from room to room through intricate passages by virtue of having the coordinates for both departure and destination points. I wondered what we could do and turned to the electronics monk for help. Just in time too, because he had been daydreaming! He had been watching, I know not for how long, the green planet through the transparent side of our space orb. But he woke up instantly and came back from the earth into the space orb, looked at the latest monitor where the communicator was dialing and then nodded like everything was under control. Obviously he had a good knowledge of what the system could do automatically, by virtue of its subroutines, and when manual intervention would be necessary. he simpy pointed at the first monitor on the left side of the second row from bottom. All of the first row of monitors were active now.

Indeed, that monitor went live within instants of the monk pointing at it.

'Receiving coordinates... Second British Base, Cyprus, X... Y...'

This must be where the immediate superior of Carlos Lehder Rivas passed his time while his employee managed three kill jobs in the home duchies. 

'What is the killer over-boss doing there,' I thought but obviously not silent enough since the oldest monk moved a hand like saying, quite please. Maybe it was just a coincidence. I am very touchy in some things.

Soon the newest monitor zoomed on the island of Cyprus which I could recognize by the contours.

'So near the Nile Delta,' I thought and looked at the old monk but his hand was not moving. He was too absorbed at the view of the Eastern Mediterranean on the monitor. The wiev was indeed breath taking: all those colors! The Nile flowed all the way to Cyprus and washing the island at levels below the sea, divided around it to east and west.

'Where does a Pharaoh escape to, when Persians come?'

The question flashed into my mind I know not from what book or movie.

'Or when Assurians come, or Akkadians...' I heard an echo in my mind as if someone was sharing my thoughts and adding to them. I doubted if these monks from Orion would be familiar with the ancient history of the planet which was no more than local history of Syria; or maybe it is Assyria.

Soon the view on the monitor zoomed on a territory on the southern coast of the island of Cyprus. For a short while we could still see that the waters of the Nile different in color from the sea in which they flowed, reached that coast. Then the view further zoomed onto military facilities, judging by the airport packed with military looking aircraft. Then we were inside a compound. What looked like a British General was drinking beer with what looked like a Prussian Officer. 

This office was the receiving coordinates then.

'Yes, the Duke of Edinburgh is here.' said the British General into the phone, and looked at his guest.

But the Duke stood up, said he would receive the call in his own office and moved to a side door. Our camera following him, we could see both rooms. The Office of the duke was larger and more sophisticated. It had a conference table with a dozen or more chairs. The General's office was like that of a secretary to the bigger room. Obviously the Duke of Edinburgh was at home here, in his own office, with his own secretary who was a British General.

I must confess that I did not expect Lehder to be a direct employee of such an illustrious personality. I thought the immediate superior of the man in Pullach would be another one in the same Apparatus, only higher in rank. I could make no heads or tails of this thing.

'Maybe just wrong number! Happens all the time,' I thought timidly, fearing to distract the monks from their concentration by my unfocused and stray thoughts.

The duke of Edinburgh entered his office and closed the side door behind him but not before our mini Seiko flying camera had passed through.

The duke went to his table and picked the antique phone.

'Repeat!' he said.

Lehder repeated the code.

'What is the matter?' asked the duke.

'I want out.' said Lehder.

'Who am I?' asked the duke.

'My lifeline!' said Lehder.

'Who am I, precisely?'

'The Unknown Superior!'

'What is my name for friends?' asked the Duke.

'Philip Weishaupt.' said Lehder.

'Where are you?' asked the duke.

'In the Den of Adam Weishaupt.' said Lehder.

'Very well, remain where you are no matter what happens. You will have visitors who will take you out.' said the Duke and terminated the connection.

Be he really a duke of Edinburgh, Scotland, or not, this was a worried duke now. He brooded for a long time. Clearly, here was some unexpected trouble come when least expected in the middle of some important project. The duke went to a safe embedded in a wall and opened it. What looked like a huge safe door turned out to be a metal gate to a safe room. He walked in but our camera remained behind. This was wise because the Seiko insect camera could be trapped inside this airtight chamber. Still, through the open passage we could see rows and rows of files. We could even read the label on the shelf the duke was handling:

'The Gholems!'

What an evil duke of Edinburgh, I thought. Clearly, this here was the last refuge of assassins all over the globe. Here was the lifeline to take them out when somehow compromised.

The evil duke came out with a file in hand and made ready to study it. he sat down and opened the file. There was a picture on the first sheet. The caption said:

'Carlos Lehder Rivas; Gholem made from a Native Latin.'

I thought of Orcs and Balrogs. How are they made? This had been a continuous theme throughout the Lord of the Rings. In the end, when all rumors were put together with all the observations, a terrible possibility appeared to be the explanation: captured Elves, that is the nomads, were the original material from which Orcs were made. Obviously this was done in a process comparable to the production of mule from horse; except something more evil than a Cyprus donkey had been used to supply the evil half of the genetic material; a parasitic and murderous molecule, a Luciferian compound or combination. 

How was a native Latin converted into a killer? How could such a thing be done? Our camera had zoomed on the file and we could see the picture of Carlos Lehder Rivas very clearly and we could compare it to the real Carlos on our other monitor. It was him alright except the picture was some years younger. He had looked much like Che Guevara in his early years: similar hair and beard, similar face and features. Only the cap was missing; I mean the cap with a star on it.

Obviously the duke was going to study the file for some time, to refresh his memory and reach a decision on how to save his protege.

On the Ingolstadt monitor, Carlos was sitting and tapping on the table nervously. Otherwise, he seemed to be just waiting like someone who knows the waiting will take a long time but has no doubt of the outcome.

Nothing interesting was happening on other live monitors. 

I turned my gaze to the transparent side of the space orb and watched beyond the planet earth into the deep dark space.

'Black holes!' I thought suddenly. 

All the monks except the system administrator had disappeared to the lower deck of the space orb where I assumed there were living quarters. I did not feel tired yet but I would soon need washing and refreshing for which I assumed there were facilities in the lower half of the global space craft.

'What of black holes?' I asked myself, searching for the source of this inspiration. I had to find the association now or it would pass away without a trace, taking with it all the potential fruit of a fertile idea.

'Ah, yes! The less you see the more it is! The less signals, the larger the black hole!'

That was it! The base on the southern coast of Cyprus where the Duke of Edinburgh had a permanent office to which top assassins of the planet had a lifeline in emergencies! This base was the black hole. The association between this abse and the black hole was the absence of signals, news, reports from them to the rest of the universe.

'So strong a black hole that even light cannot escape it to bring the news!'

That was it. The geographical position of this base, these two bases rather, in Cyprus, would entitle them to show up in many a news report; more so during the second Gulf war of Georg Ealker Herbert Busch. Not less so during the first Gulf War of the Father,  Georg Busch I. neither less so in the news regarding the Cyprus problem that has been sort of current news ever since I could read papers. Yet never in my life had I heard two British military bases in Cyprus mentioned in the news: not in the news of Cyprus conflict, nor in the news of Kofi Annnan plan for reallocation of lands in Cyprus, not in the news of logistic support for the colaition forces in Gulf war.

This British miltary bases were two black holes in the Eastern Mediterranean, from which not even light excaped to spread their news.

A principle became clear to me: the higher the improtance of a spot for the invisible government of the planet, the less its mention in the news. The bigger a black hole, the less the signals that could depart from it.

I thought of a technique to figure out hidden command centers but then I remembered where I had heard of this: Mission Earth of L. Ron Hubbard. Pity the idea was not my invention. However, I must add that Hubbard does not tell the reader how exactly this analysis is made to find a hidden command center. he merely lets us know that there is such a technique which the Space Engineer Jettero Heller, officer of the Fleet of Voltar Confederacy, has learned such a technique in the Space Academy. The black hole analogy is not mentioned there nor implied.

The duke closed the file and rose to a walkabout around his office. As he paced the space, he stood to examine pictures adorning the walls.

There was the Sphinx.

'What is your secret, o Sphinx?' the duke asked.

'Half man, half beast!' the same duke answered after a thoughtful pause.

There were sequential pictures of a cuckoo evicting a host chick; host mother of the victims feeding the kuckoo chick twice her size; the same who had killed all her own chicks before.

'Well done by boy,' he said to the cuckoo, petting it with a finger.

' Nothing personal, little native mother! We must survive too. Jus Primae Noctis ' said the duke to the mother sparrow, tapping on her head with the finger.

A crow landed on the window sill of the office.

'Go, raise a cuckoo, you silly lazy thing!' shouted the duke while throwing a paper weight at the crow.

Then the duke went to the phone as if relaxed and ready to work again, and dialled.

'Receiving coordinates... Frankfurt, Hesse X... Y...'

Second monitor from the left side on the second row from bottom went live and soon showed us a study room.

'Duke of Hesse speaking! That you, Philip?'

'Who else, you idiot? It is my dedicated top security line, is it not?'

'Calm down, cousin Philip Hauke-Battenberg!' scolded the Duke of Hesse.

'Hesse, we have a problem!' said Philip duke of Edinburgh.

'I know it, but how come you know it too?'

'Are we talking of hte same thing?' asked Philip.

'We sometimes do, you know, my dear vassal!' said Hesse.

'We often don't' said Hauke-Battenberg.

'Out with it!' 

'You first!'

'Well, Diana tapes, of course! The latest is that  a copy set is in safe keeping in an American bank.'

'You own all the American banks, through your vassal Rothschild.' said Hauke.

'Well, lets say almost all!'

'Not this one?'

'Not this one, no.'

'What are you going to do about it? Buy it I suppose?'

'Sure, as soon as I know the name of the bank!'

'You don't?'

'No, I don't, Not yet!'

'But why do you need the name of the bank in which Diana tapes are kept?'

'How else can I buy a bank if I do not know its name?'

Duke of Edinburgh released a terrible laugh.

'No wonder the Coburg calls all stupid things Hesse!'

'You are Hesse too!'

'Of cadet line! You are the main line, cousin! And it is you whom Coburg means.'

'Well, help me out of this one then. Can you find out which American bank is in question?'

'No, of course not. I mean not in a few weeks.'
'Why then am I more stupid than you, bitte?'

'Because you need the name of the bank in order to buy it!'

'You would not, in my place?'

'Of course not, stupid Hesse.'

'You would do nothing while those tapes remained there until such time when a dark horse like General Wesley Clark becomes president of the United States and we lose all possibilities to intercept those tapes? Do you have  no notion of the cost to our house if they are ever broadcast without prior editing? It is your head before mine, and what is at risk is your dynasty! My interests in the affair, my risks and coasts too, are only secondary to yours.'

'But nothing that is mine is really mine, cousin liege! I am a simple vassal to you. It is all yours and I have lived my life.'

'Watch it, cousin! I can still inflict pain on you.'

'And if I help you out with the bank thing?'

'Then your impertinence will be forgiven for this last time.'

'Very well, then! Look at the list of American banks that you do not own yet! It is a very short list.'

'So?'

'So, buy them all, damn it! Must I spell every Buchstabe for you?'

'Oh, I see! But oh, dear, oh, meine Guete! This will upset the schedule.'

'So what?'

'My dear cousin, we do not improvize like Latins and Slavs do at the slightest emergency! That is our difference, the mark of our superiority. We must not descend to their level.'

'What is the schedule for your Deutsche Bank, together  with your Rotshchild banks, to take over the very last of American banks?'

'It is scheduled for after  10 June 2011.'
10 JUN 1921
'Why so? What is so special about that date?'

'It is the months after Gaddaffi teams blast all the laboratories in the United States and let contagious material in them contaminate the air; pox, specially.'

'Is that all? Make Gaddafi do it a bit early!'

'How can I? It was you who fixed that day to your nintieth birthday.'

'I will change my ninetieth birthday then.'

'But a date fixed is a date in the schedule. We cannot just change it.'

'But if I change my ninetieth birthday?'

'But you cannot! You wer born on 10 June 1921, on the Isle of Kerkira, Mount Repos, Corfu, Greece. Father Prince Andrew of Schleswig-Holstein-Sonderbert-Glucksburn, Prince of Greece. Mother Princess Alice of Battenberg.'

'And what was I born, cousin Hesse?'

'You were born Philippos Schleswig-Holstein-Sonderbert-Glucksburn, Prince of Greece.'

'And when did Philippos become Philip?'

'During schooling in England. In 1939 when you entered the Royal Naval College of Dartmouth.'

'You see how easily names can change. Why not birthdays? And when did I become Philip Windsor?'

'On your marriage to Elizabeth II Alexandra Mary WINDSOR, Queen of England; marriage on 20 November 1947, Westminster, Abbey, London, England'

'And why did she not become Alexandra Schleswig-Holstein-Sonderbert-Glucksburn?'

'Because that is the way of the cadet line of Hesse, forgotten? Your great grandfather, brother to my great grand father, both sons of the Duke of Hesse, yours married Hauke; Mrs. Hauke was created Duchess Battenberg; so, your line became Hesse-Battenberg. And later, when a daughter of Lord Burma-Battenberg married a Holstein, she did not become a Holstein but he, your father Andew, became a Battenberg. And when you, a Hesse-Battenberg, married a Windsor, she becomes not a Battenberg but you become a Windsor.

'But her father was a Coburg!'

'Not my business, cousin. Back to our problem. We cannot advance the date for takeover of last American banks. That is fixed.'

'Why not?'


'Because it is your ninetieth birthday, and that is fixed.'

'Well, then, as of this moment, I change my ninetieth birth day! On what grounds can you oppose that?'

'Well, I cannot of course! Your birth day is your own business, and if you change it, you change it.'

'That is settled then?'

'Not quite! What is your new birth day?'

'What do I care? Make it September 11.'

'Then Gaddafi teams will have to do the stunt on September 11, 2011!'

'Still 2011?'

'I cannot change a year in a schedule. I cannot take liberties with the year of a major operation as you can with your birthday or with your name, Philippos Schleswig-Holstein-Sonderbert-Glucksburn become Hesse-Hauke-Battenberg become Mountbatten become Windsor become Duke of Edinburgh to all Scots.'

'Why don't I whine about your Hessian Lutheran barmaids made Czarinas of all Orthodox Russians as brides to seven Holstein Czars? Oh, ten thousand Coburgs! '

'The Lutheran breed, every one of whom is qualified to become a dynast to Britain or Belgium! To Orthodox Bulgaria and Catholic Portugal! Lucifer take them all.'

'And give them to Hesse as vassals.'

'Not yet, cousin, not yet! There is a time for every Coburg under the Heavens! Now to my problem.'

'It was not Diana Tapes?'

'Of course not, stupid! That was your problem.'

'Well, what was yours?'

'The Weishaupt thing! I have a Gholem who wants out.'

'Where is he now?'

'In the den of Adam Weishaupt.'

'In Ingolstadt!  Why can't you work it out with the duke of Bavaria? It is his duchy.'

'Because he worked for the Duke of Bavaria, from his duchy, and wants out of it. You have to take him out, examine his case and deal with it per code.'

'Vehmic code?'

'If the case merits it.'

'His name?'

'Carlos Lehder Rivas.'

'One of yor Latin Gholems?'

'Jawohl.'

'I had told you, had I not, that it was all too good to employ deranged Latins all over the globe but it was not safe to base them in a stem duchy. What has he geh broken?'

'I cannot know. He wants out through me, his last lifeline can only mean that he feels his life is in danger because he has caused something that would invoke the displeasure of his direct employer, the duke of Bavaria.'

'He was assigned to Pullach, this Latin Gholem of yours?'

'He was.'

'Wait a minute!'

The duke of Hesse rang a bell and an ancient secret coucellor, a Geheim Rat, a Nosferatu entered his office.

Duke of Hesse scribbled the name of Carlos Lehder Rivas on a notepad and pointed at it with the pen. The Nosferatu looked at the name and then compared to the notes on a notepad he was carrying and nodded emphatically while holding the pad for his duke to see. The Nosferatu left the room without the load on his crooked ancient shoulders he had brought with him. It was a very relieved mummy that left the room; a cheerful mummy. A problem that had been too much for him had been resolved by his duke. That is what dukes are for, the vassal might be thinking when he left the room.

'He, du, Philip!' said the now cheerful Duke of Hesse into the phone.

'Immer noch hier!' came the response of the Duke of Edinburgh whose accent was not one bit Scottish.

'It is about that Gholem of yours!'

'It is about that Gholem of mine that I called you!'

'That too! What I mean is, we had a sort of martial law here on account of that Gholem of yours.'

'In the whole duchy of Hesse?'

'And in Coburg too.'

'What has he broken?'

'We will find out soon, now that you turn him to us, officially. But until this moment, we were having real problems.'

'With my Gholem? Two top and foremost Electors of the Reich?'

'No kidding.'

'I knew the Latin had talent, but that high? What did he do?'

'We don't really know and we were having difficulty to find out.'

'Can that be in the stem duchies? Are we not proud of total control even on number of migratory birds entering the Red Zone along the Rhine from its source in Lichtenstein to its Delta which is Benelux?'

'Hey, stop that! This is serious! But you saved us.'

'Where was the difficulty?'

'Bavaria! Always the stiffnecked garden dwarf of Bavaria. He would not meet me, your liege, nor would he meet the Duke of Coburg, liege to your queen!'

'Ach Liebe gute! The protocol obsession of the Elector king of Bavaria!'

'Absolut! He would not meet Coburg because Coburg is neither Elector nor king; and he would not meet me because I am Elector but not king. He would meet the liege of Coburg, Elector King of Saxony, but that Illuminated personality could not be spared to attend us; seems he got his own problams in Warsaw, being the occult king to Poland.'

'And now, how is the thing solved?'

'Now that you gave the Latin Gholem to my Jurisdiction, I need not wait for clearence nor for information from Duke of Bavaria. I will simply lift your Gholem from where you say he is waiting to be taken out. He will have all the information we need because it was his three teems which destabilised on the same day in three different duchies.'

'That is very unusual!'

'What do you think? We have martial law here. Highest alarm levels in Hesse and Coburg. Only Bavaria does not respond to our alarm calls.'

'Oh dear Lucifer! Is this a concerted atack on our dear stem duchies? Are the Latins on the march?'

'We will find out soon. Wait a minute till I dispatch the Vehmic batallion to Ingolstadt. Then we can chat a little more until they are there and back with your Gholem.'

'Black helicopters?'

'Of course. Give me a few minutes.'

Duke of Hesse went out of his room but our camera did not follow him. We could hear through the phone receiver that the duke of Edinburgh was whistling like he was afraid of darkness.

The duke of Hesse returned and suspiciously listened to the whistling and searched for its source in the direction of the sole window. Then he gave up and picked the receiver.

'it was you whistling!'

'Dispatched the death squads?'

'Interrogation teams really. We need to know everything, everything.'

'Good riddence to bad Latin,' said the Duke of Edinburgh with much gusto.

At this, it became clear to me that the old devil had no intentions of saving his Latin protege. This lifeline trick was obviously a last precaution against individual malfunctions in this global gothic syndicate of crime. A person who found him between the deepsea and the devil was offered a devil's tail of a lifeline so that he would not go wild in trying to save himself; a desperate animal was to be led through a street lined on both sides with glazer shops without erring into any shop. At the other end of the street was a house of horror for torture and then slaughter and beyond it maybe a butcher shop and a royal kitchen.


	True Genealogy of a Duke of Edinburgh


How orcs are made and who are the Balrog?

'Philip you still there? How are things in the Levant?' asked Hesse.

'Could be better, much better! The Hanse blunders a lot!'

'No kidding! Bremer and Rumsfeld?'

'Make a mess wherever they touch!'

'Even with you as supreme commander? During the world war you were in the British navy in the Levant, were you not?'

'Some of the time, but mostly I was in the pacific.'

'That was the right place to divert the allies to, in order to save Paris.'

'It was too.

'But now you are in over all command, are you not? Like your uncle Louis Battenberg in the Second World War.'

'With some differences. My uncle Battenberg, Lord of Burma, was officially supreme commander of the allies.'

'And his father the Louis Battenberg was supreme commander of allies in the First World war.'

'Yes, but Scots insisted and got him, my own grandfather, deposed in 1917, you know.'

'Really?'

'Really deposed.'

'No, I mean really your own grandfather?'

'Stop it, cousin, if you be really a cousin, but then who knows who is who in Hesse!'

'Hey, none of ours matched the record of August the Strong of Saxony in Poland.'

'In Catholic Poland.'

'The crooked Lutheran converted, did he not?'

'Of course he did. How else can an elector of Lutheran saxony become king of Catholic Poland?'

'But he remained Elector while he was king of Poland.'

'Obvioulsy his vassals in the duchy of Saxony were more tolerant than his subjects in the kingdom of Poland.'

'Tolerance: that reminds me of Princess Alice of Battenberg.'

'Who?'

'Your mother, Philip. Was she not tolerant to your father Andrew Oldenburg?'

'Well, yes. Father took off to indulge himself in the fleshpots of Monte Carlo while mother looked after her four daughters.'

'Each of her four daughters, your sisters, married a German dukes and general before the second world war. That was good for coordination of sophisticated operations. But where were you when your father was in Monte carlo and your mother raising the girls?'

'I was in England, you know. With my uncle Louis  Battenberg.'

'Lord of Burma!'

'The same.'

'Terror of Japan!'

'Well, that too. On the day Japan surrendered and he attended to the surrendering generals of Japan, he said to the Americans under his command: be not soft to these animals!'

'He commended thus?'

'Jawohl.'

'A duke of the Reich commanded thus the allied forces in the pacific just when the whole world thought the reich finished!'

'That is the game.'

'In return, for such service to the reich, Hesse insisted that you, his nephew, a cadet line of hesse, to become the next dynast to Britain after Coburg fief expired.'

'So it was cousin. Your father insisted on this.'

'And convinced all the electors of the Reich. Even Coburg raised no objectives in the end.'

'But Philip, tell me, how old were you when the Greeks rebelled?'

'Oh, that was in 1922. I must have been one year old.'

'What did they do, the greeks?'

'King Konstantine Oldenburg escaped in a British ship that was always ready in the haven. My father Andrew Oldenburg, Battenberg by marriage, could not escape and was put into prison. Five minsiters of Georg Oldenburg were summarily executed by the Venizelos gang; for leading Greece into disastrous adventures in Asia. My father Andrew was awaiting the execution squad. Greeks were offered half the planet by our cousin King Georg V of Britain but to no awail.'

'The Coburg did that for an Oldenburg?'

'Why not? It was not his planet he offered. Besides, it would be only for a short time.'

'Like Greek Republic in 1831. How long did it take until the sovereignty, won after struggle of centuries supposedly,  was lost to a German king?'

'Less than a year. Their first president Kapodistrias was shot at the gates of their main Orthodox Church.'

'And Catholic Otto of bavaria made king of Greeks.'

'Those were the days. Lutheran Amalia made queen of Orthodox Greece.'

'Hey hey hey, Philip, duke of Edinburgh.'

'Hey hey, the next king of all Britons calls me father.'

'But we know better, hey, Philip Hauke-Battenebrg?'

'I do not know better. Do you?'

'Never mind that, Philip, we are not tribal primitives.'

'There be some in Scotland who might call you a bastard for talking like that.'

'What do Scots call you, cousin Philip?'

'Hey, it is punishable by law to call me names, cousin. not in Britain.'

'Nor in the Levant, Philip, not in Greece; with two military babses reporting to none other than you in the great britain.'

'So much the better.'

'But Philip, how does project Recover Greece proceed? Tell me not that all your attention is in directing the Gulf war, while you are in your Cyprus military base. You cannot given up on Greece. What number were you on the line of succession to the Greek throne when the fanatics deposed your uncle Constantine?'

'The fifth to succeed to the throne of Greece, as king of all Hellenes, was I.'

'In 1922 your father was in prison and you, Philip, were a baby of only eighteen months, fifth in line of succession to the Greek throne, when your uncle the king had to flee into exile. Greece was under the heels of a revolutionary junta of fanatic Venizelos. Your father, Prince Andrew, was arrested and tossed into jail. Others who opposed the new regime had already been summarily executed and Andrew seemed assured of the same fate. Your mother left the family's island home on Corfu and journeyed to Athens in an attempt to save her husband. She appealed for help to her cousin, England's King George V. He dispatched a British secret-service agent, Commander Gerald Talbot, to Athens with instructions to negotiate Prince Andrew's release or, if that failed, to rescue him from prison. After much ado, the family was finally saved.'

'Venizelos pitied my mother. I hate all Greeks for that. How can they pity when they grab a chance in hundred fifty years? I hate all fanatics.'

'Of course you do, Philip, and that is why you still have two military bases in Cyprus! For your just revenge. But to all things their appointed times.'

'In our schedules of conquest.'

'Yes, right now, America must be weakened; must become hated by the last Hindu, the last Budhist, the last Hottentot. Then, it is Der Tag. May you saddle America with many many Gulf wars yet!'

'Well cousin Hesse, was nice talking to you.'

'To you too. Auf wiedersehen, Philip Oldcastle. Kiss General Gerald Talbot for me.'

'Tschuess!'


	Chapter 8- LIFELINE INTO HADES


	Carlos has Visitors

Carlos Lehder Rivas was still waiting for his rescuers. He was in the same office from which he had activated three killer teams. Failure of all three teams to report back had made him nervous. And then we watched him contacting his unknown superior to be taken out of trouble. It was to be assumed that he was in trouble when none of three teams reported back from important assignments; obviously that was the way he evaluated his position. Maybe there were procedures in place for cases when a team fails; procedures which in this cases somehow did not unroll automatically. Maybe he feared treason from his immediate superiors and therefore went to his last lifeline, his unknown superior. Maybe thre were arrangements agreed on in case things get out of hand; maybe such arrangements were made during the recruiting phase.

I wondered how a person like Carlos Rivas, an inteligent looking Latin American possibly, had been recruited by the aliens. I wondered if he knew for whom he really worked. Maybe he thought he was serving an unknown superior, whose cause and reasons to remain incognito might be good; maybe he was led to believe that he was actually planted in the Bavarian Illuminati in order fight its worst excesses. Maybe Carlos Rivas would talk of these things and thus unwittingly satisfy our curiosity.

But then, planted or not, with them or against them, this man had undertaken the task of murdering three very innocent persons; an honest parttime reporter, a black American war veteran and a Polish poet.  This man had teams to activate for murder jobs; most probably these three were not his very first crimes attempted. Those teams had a mannerism of long experience as assassins. Weather they had been only recently assigned to Carlos, it was not possible to tell yet. 

Carlos Rivas was still patiently waiting for his lifeline. He was tapping on the table which was cleared of all the staff like by someone who was preparing to leave a place not to comeback for a long time if ever. Even the book that had been on the table when we first saw Rivas enter this subterranean office was not there any more. There was a shoulder bag on the floor to the right side of the table towards the door. Carlos Rivas had already packed.

I had a feeling that the Latin killer was at this very moment being betrayed by his unknown superior while he awaited his rescuers. But then, watching him wait calmly without slightest agitation, maybe he knew something I did not. Maybe he had taken precautions which would discourage treason.

At last there came action; it was in the form of a polite knocking at the door.

'Come in!' yelled Carlos in the direction of the door. There entered two creatures of somehow familiar appearance. Long black trenchcoats, black hats it was that made them look familiar but this was the first time they showed up on our monitors. They were totally new faces for Lehder too. 

Soon I realized that the creatures looked familiar for a silly reason; they were imitations of some characters in a movie. It might be any odd thriller figuring two FBI agents; these would be Bavarian imitations then. But then I thought of the book by Franz Kafka: The Process! The lifeline of Carlos suddenly lost all reliability in my eyes. 

But Rivas greeted them sincerely. These two types were this end of the lifeline that was thrown for his rescue.

'Can we go now?' asked the long envoy without greetings, throwing an eye at the packed bag.

'Sure, lets go!' said Carlos with total trust, putting his fate into the hands of these persons sent by his unknown superior.

Our camera followed right behind them. There was a van in the parking lot; a truck with an enclosed cargo space converted into a camper equipped with living quarters.

The long envoy opened the back door and showed Carlos in;

'You must be tired; there is a bed in there and food too.'

The other envoy who suddenly looked like a small and fat waiter in a road side inn where unsuspecting travellers are trapped, robbed and murdered, read the menu with relish:

'Weiss Wurst, Bier, Pretzel!'

Lehder moved in without reply. The Latin now looked hungry and tired. He closed the door behind him like an exhausted man going into early retirement without regrets.

The two agents of the unknown superior put on black spectacles, climbed into the driving cabin, and the van started. Now they were suddenly Men in Black, except there was no trace of Will Smith charm in this medieval version.

Our mini flying Seiko camera had made the right choice: it chose the driving cabin. Judging by the picture on the monitor, the camera had roosted on some point on the back wall of the cabin. We could see the road ahead and something of the two faces. The wall that separated the driving cabin from the caravan chamber was solid metal; Carlos Rivas could not hear these fellows into the hands of whom he had put his life. Neither could they hear him, but then they probably knew what to excpect from him but he could not guess what was coming at him; or where he was really being taken to. I felt certain that the Latin was in for a surprise by the time this van called at its destination. Interrogation was sure fate of carlos now, but whether in form of gentle debriefing or as rude as in the hands of gestapo, we would wait to find out.

I  must confess that I expected carlos to ask a few questions about their destination; but then maybe thus surrendering into the hands of deliverers is a long established procedure in these occult outfits. Maybe trust is not a privilege of good guys only; after all, without some such principles, no organization could hold for long. There was no doubt about the longevity of the ring we were observing now; these people, as a species have been at it for generations, for centuries, if not for millenia, the way I figured from some of the talk those arrogant dukes gave from themselves; I had a feeling they did so for no obvious reason at all except maybe to refresh their memory and maybe to build up courage or to chase away fears we natives of this planet can have no concpetion of!

After all, fear has been in the roots of many an irrational behaviour; irrational for us natives. Very rational for the alien creatures whose needs and fears must be outside our experience; I mean outside the sum total of the experience and deliberations of all our philosophers and wise men present and past. 

Species gap is a very serious gap which even strongest potential for empathy my fail to bridge in its full reality; except when misunderstanding.

If some of these creatures ever empathized with us natives, it has to be due to some misunderstanding; may be they per chance witnessed an accident and wrongly concluded that it was contrived by a tricky native; they would have thought us not much different from themselves and become somehow tolerant to the many differences until such time when they would be undeceived, find out that it was not in the nature of the natives to lay traps for each other; and upon this realization, they would hate us more violently. It ought to be easy to test this hypothesis: which vassals of those duchies hate the  natives of all continents most? If those who have travelled everywhere hate us more violently than those who have never left the duchy, then the hypothesis is proved. But naturally, the tricky species would not allow itself to be tested straightforward; those who have traveled among our continents would know us and would feign sentiments they saw in us and abhorred.

This van was going to drive Carlos for some hours. 

Nothing significant was moving on other monitors. This was a good time for me to take a rest.

I looked around myself in the space orb for a place to lay down but then one of the monks motioned at me to follow and descended down the helical stairs.

I followed to the lower half of the sphere where I expected living quarters. Indeed this was so. I saw a plate with my name on it attached to one of eight doors. I headed towards the door in a hurry, but then suddenly remembering I was a guest here, I decided to wait for the monk to lead the way. The monk however, having assured hmself that I had seen the name plate, pointed at the door for me to enter and himself went back to the monitor hall upstairs.

I was flattered; my employers had confidence in my intelligence. They needed not to show me around and explain things. 

Once through the door, I realized why there had been no need to show and explain. All shelves and gardrobes had transparent doors. All inner rooms were delimited by transparent partitions; except the bathroom.

There were fresh clothes; there was water; there was food; there was bed; there was table with chairs. There was a flat monitor hanging against a wall like a large painting; but only one monitor. The monitor was blank. There was a keyboard next to it. The keyboard was cordless. Microphone and speakers were embedded in it.


	From Ingolstadt to Frankfurt

I found lots of mango juice behind a transparent door of a cup board. Drinking half a liter of this proved sufficient to feel satiated. 

'How long did the nation of cats need to develop the cleaning after dinner,' I wondered. Scientific cast of the cat species must have discovered the microscope and established the link between diseases and very tiny mice invisible to plain cat eyes; from there to discovery of the importance of cleanliness for good health must have taken them no longer than half a million years. Naturally bigotted professions of the nation who benefited form epidemics would have resisted the reformations and declared all the whiskered maverics for heretics but progress must have been unstoppable given the bright spark of intelligence sparingly distributed in the demography of a species; a tiny spark that survives all winds of suppression.

After washing I was prepared to put on some robe as the monks have them but to my surprise there were fresh clothes matching those I had on. It was not that I thought the monks incapable of such sophistication but I would not expect them to be distracted from loftier thoughts by such mundane business of animal needs. It is a matter of spare capacity in the processors that are called minds, I suppose. Obviously no detail is beneath attention if and where  there is comfortable excess capacity. Maybe to maximize excess capacity was a basic tenant of the monks from Orion. Different galaxies had different priorities.

I laid down on the bed and closed my eyes. It was three hours later when I woke up. 

The flat monitor cought my attention. There were no botons on the monitor; the keyboard had too many of them. I fiddled with the keyboard starting with the top row of function keys. Naturally I could not tell which function key it was but one of them it must be that started the monitor. A menu appeared with lots of things offered; useful things, no doubt which I would surely explore later.

This was not a menu bar but a chess board kind of menu filling the whole of the screen. The appearance of commands arrayed in rows and columns was like the digital tablets become popular during the last decade of the twentieth century and then disappeared from design offices for some unfathomable reason. It was like rog software companies banned the good old tablets.

One menu item on the chess board was pretty clear to me. It said:

'Browse the Live Surveillence Monitors.'

Another menu Item made sense too. It said:

'Deploy camera to coordinates.'

On the key board I could see arrows for normal speed, fast forward, play back at various speeds. Naturally I pressed them all individually and in binary combinations but nothing followed. 

The longer I looked at the simulated tablet menu on the screen, the more items acquired sense; as if the menu squares were introducing themselves not all at one but one after the other without haste so that I could preserve their names. Like it should be in polite society.

There was Archive; there was search Word/Picture in the Archive; there was Extract/Edit a video script.

I wanted to select one: 'Browse the Live Surveillence Monitors.' 

I had a pretty sure feeling of what this had to be. Live Surveilling monitors could only refer too the live monitors in the upper half of the Space Orb. Clearly, this was the menu item that would bring the view on any one of those monitors onto this screen. I wanted to see the caravan in which Carlos Rivas was moving towards his fate in custody of two Men in Black.

To activate this menu square from among all the rows of commands on the Liquid Crystal Display, which I assumed the flat monitor to be, I touched all the keys on the keyboard. Nothing happened. It has to be a binary combination, I thought, like with Shift or Alt or Control keys plus another. Though I have great confidence in the method of pushing keys at random, I am not so bold as dare to expect results from random pressing of binary combinations. There is a point in every solitary pursuit beyond which it is better to start looking for company. I decided to ask for help.

The word help instinctively moved my finger to the function key F1. There was a reason why this key had escaped my compliments till now: on this key board with 64 function keys, F1 was slightly offset from its row and column and placed uniquely at the upperright corner of the key board. It had red color while all the other keys were black. 

'Why not have on it the word help, I wondered while my finger went to the F1 key where I would expect and Escape key instead. As soon as I touched the key, a small window appeared on the upper right corner of the flat monitor; there was the system administrator sitting at his console; obviously he could see me as I saw him. My eyes looked for a camera sitting on the frame of the flat monitor; it was not there. The Young Monk who was the system administrator of the Space Orb was waiting patiently for my question. The window frame through which he looked had appeared on the right margin of the monitor; the chessboard menu was still visible in its entirety.

'How do I pick a menu item?' I asked as a confession of defeat.

'Which one?' asked a polite system administrator.

'This one here: 'Browse the Live Surveillence Monitors.' I said while unintentionally touching at the square on the flat monitor.

As soon as I touched the menu item, two things happened at once: the help window disappeared but not before I could see a mischievous smile. This must be the notion of humor for the electronic monk: to see people asking for information they need not ask at all or at best, the answer materialises of its own  when the question is made less ambiguous. 

The other thing that happened simultaneously with the disappearance of the good help was that the chessboard pattern that was menu items gave place to a chessboard pattern of  the same appearance with the monitors on the upper deck filling the squares. I could see that the order of rows and columns was the same as on the upper half opaque wall of the space orb. There it was, the second monitor from left on the second row from the bottom: the same caravan was driving on. The same two Men in Black were in the driving cabin. 

The frame for each monitor was the size of the menu botton which was a small square. Now that I knew this was a screen sensible to gentle touch, I could move ahead by touching. Clean hands I thought and looked around; there was a stick hanging by its cord on the side of the monitor.  It was the same length as the hight of the monitor and had the same color as the frame. No wonder I did not see it before. This could be nothing other than a pointer.

I picked the pointer to touch the botton on which a tiny view was travelling on a motorway and I had no doubt that I could enlarge this one view by simply touching it with the pointer.

But before moving ahead, I had to know how to get back to my starting point, the main menu. This menu had first appeared when I touched so many keys at random. Now, I examined the keyboard again and indeed found a key which said 'Main menu'. I also found other keys labeled Next Screen and Previous Screen. This might be what I though it was. Only one way to find out. I touched the previous Screen! Indeed, it took me backwards. Except the frame in which the help had appeared was empty. There was a refresh botton on its own menu bar. A menu bar came like an old acquintance. I touched the botton saying Next Screen successively through the blank monitor, then the empty help frame with option to refresh, then to chessboard pattern of all monitors in the upper deck. Next Screen was not producing further change. Now I was sure of what these two keys were. Now I could roam ahead without fear of losing my way in a jungle. I could back up any time to familiar territory.

I touched the menu item that was a mini live view from inside the cruising caravan. Indeed  the picture grow to fill the whole screen. I would need to have several monitors from upper deck to appear simultaneously in their separate windows on my monitor. How to do that, I wondered.

I touched the monitor again; the picture was minimized into a menu item in its place among the many. Touch again and it filled the whole screen again. Then I noticed that the frame produced a menu bar of its own when enlarged. There was a menu item called Combinations. The sensible thing to do now was to try every sub menu here.

Under menu Item combinations there were not many sub items. There was arrange optimum, divide view into two, three, four, eight, sixteen. Then there was PIP. What can this be, I wondered. Naturally, I assumed this anagram hid the very functions I would need most. I had no fear of blundering irretrivably thanks to the previous screen button, so I could boldly press PIP which I did. The view from the cruising van reduced to about an A3 size in landscape orientation, width longer than height, and shifted to somewhere near the lower right corner of the flat monitor. A caption on it said: Picture in Picture: always on the top.

I touched several other live monitors in size of menu boxes and each one of them filled the monitor hiding  everything else except the Picture in Picture. Then I made each one a PIP upon which the view reduced from the door size of the flat monitor into A3 size and took a place next to the previous pips. There was enough place on the monitor for several dozen A3 size PIP views. Next thing to do was to rearrange the PIP frames. To do this presented no difficulty. When the pointer touched the blue ribbon above the menu bar of a view, an anchor sigh appeared; the view could be moved to any location on the monitor. 

This was all very familiar from the good old Microsoft. What I did not know was if the Operation System of the Space Orb was really akin to Microsoft or weather some interpreter software was creating an interfacecompatible with my own experience. I had briefly seen the System Administrator on his won working console and there was nothing on it that I found familiar. But then, this was not a point on which I would like to waste my detective talents.

I tried to concentrate on the view from the cruising van. By all appearence of the two men in Black, they were still on the same journey and with the same cargo they started some three hours before. I had slept in between but I felt no loss because I knew by now that the archive of the Space Orb got the uninterrupted record of the pictures sent by all our active cameras in their diverse coordinates on the planet. I could always play back and find out if anything important happened to the cargo of that van if I did not find Carlos coming out of it in one piece when the Men in Black arrived at their final destination.


	Hooded Judges of Vehmic Tribunals

Judging by the guiding signs on the motorway, the van was approaching Frankfurt on the Rhine. It stopped at a roadside inn. Top battlements of the remnants of a medieval castle could be seen beyond the inn and behind a ridge, a long narrow elevation that looked like natural but it might also be an eartwork hiding some purpose; it was too straight for a natural watershed dividing two valleys.

The inn was decrepit; worn and broken down by hard use; lacking physical strength or vitality. But as all too often, looks could be deceptive in this part of the planet. Bulky stones had been used in the masonry of the inn.

The two Men in Black stepped out of the driving cabin of the van and walked into the inn without slightest concern for their cargo. Our flying mini Seiko camera must have registered either one of the Men in Black as mobile targets; it followed them into the inn. There were about a dozen creatures drinking what looked like beer. The place looked dark and dirty. 

'What a horrible bunch of balky cyclops,' I thought. 

About half of them were one armed each. There were metal hooks in place of the missing limb. Soon I could see that the other half who still had both front limbs were all one legged. A wooden peg stood attached in place of the leg missing from beneath the knee.

I have always felt uncomfortable at sights of mutilation. I know from a cyber quiz that there is a phobia name for this, like there are phobia words for a few thousand oddities.

Yet these mutilated giants were making merry, producing gruf sounds, deep and harsh as if from shouting or illness or emotion, that made the anomalous jolly company roll with horrible laughter.

The two men in Black walked to them at ease as if they were returning from the wash room back to the table. The short man in black took the drinking glass of a one armed pirate and drank. The pirate did not mind one bit. The long man in black walked to a counter behind which was a one eyed monster with an eye patch on the other side of his head where there might have been another eye in a distant past.

'Everything ready?' asked the long man in black.

'Ihr habt die Ware!' said the piratical innkeeper, and walked to a back room with the two men in black following.

The back room was as dirty and dark as the front hall and as primitive except a metal door the paint of which lended a peculiar appearance to it' The solid door in an otherwise ramshackle room  appeared as if made of wood. Only when the pirate opened it for the men in black to inspect, the unpainted insides showed the door to be heavy metal.

In the chamber behind the door were boxes of provisions piled right and left. A dirty curtain was at the end of this storage. The piratical innkeeper pulled the curtain aside.

There was a twisted rope made of winding wires going through a pulley fixed ovehead. the rope descended into a well from two sides of the pulley. No mechanism could be seen. The innkeeper pulled one of the two ropes over the pulley until a bucket ascended from whatever hell was below. The bucket was half filled with some dirty liquid which might be water or beer or something else.

Then the inkeeper let go of the rope and waited. The bucket went down again. Mechanical noises could be heard from the bottom of the well. Then a low humming of an electric motor could be heard and the rope moved in the other direction.

An elevator cabin  rose from the well until its floor became level with the floor of the storage room.

'Alles Klar! Bringt die Ware!' said the inn keeper.

The two men in Black walked out to the parking caravan. The short one opened the back door of the van. Carlos was there; he was lying on the bed that filled half the cabin. On the other half of the cabin was a table and two chairs, all probably fixed to the metal floor of the cabin.

Carlos Rivas straightened in the bed, put his shoes on and stepped out; he was dizzy and had to hold on to the van for some moments.

Each of the two men in black held him by an arm and helped him walk into the inn.

The merry dozen of mutilated monsters around the raw wood table stopped talking and examined the Latin customer. The men in black ignored them as they led carlos to the back room. 

Strangely enough, carlos showed no agitation at the sight of a covert elevator that led probably to deep underground. This might be a normal part of the lifeline he expected.

The two men in black still holding a dizzy Carlos by the arms, stepped into the elevator.

It was a long descend into hades.

At this point I thought of the book by Sir Walter Scott; Anne of geierstein. I could remember passages that I felt certain were from that book but by my best effort, I could not remember when and where I had read that book. Maybe during long hours of browsing the web I had gazed through some of the text and then for whatever reason discarded it as if a thing of no interest. It was only when watching scenes reminiscent of something I had read before that I could remember glimpses. A day before, I might swear that I knew of no such book.

The elevator came to halt with a splash: either the pit really was a water well, or had been for some time, or simply unwanted ground water had seeped into a covert elevator shaft. Depending on the smell which fortunately our Seiko camera did not convey a sample of, the pit might be full of sewage.

The men in black were now holding carlos by the arms with firmer grip. The way they almost dragged him out of the elevator and into a gigantic cave was no more behaviour of helping friends. Dizzy or not, Carlos must have felt the same too because he made an attempt to shake himself free from the grips as if to show he could walk now. They did not let go. The trio walked some distance in the cave, strangely illuminated as if by radioactivity, and reached a furnished area.

There was a podium; a wood platform raised above the irregular ground of the cave. This might be for the purpose of providing a clean and even floor or to give prominence to the persons on it at the expense of those placed on the rough terrain around it. 

There was a pit on the left side of the platform in which a strong solid chair was placed. This could have several purposes; to denigrate the person placed in the pit; to restrain the person in case he might be tempted to respond to provocation.

Carlos walked towards the podium. He looked tired and dizzy and obviously wanted to sit down. On the podium there was a huge wooden table made of rough timber. It was exactly like the table in the hall of the Inn on the surface above this cave. There were twelve wooden chairs on three sides of this woodwork. The long fornt side was not chaired.

Carlos walked towards a side of the podium that was about knee high from the cave floor; he was making for one of the side chairs. Until this moment the Latin in a cave under the ground of a roadside inn near a medieval Castle showed no signs of agitation or fear. He had been walking along on his own feet as he was led ahead; either all this ritual that was moving in the direction of cloak and dagger melodrama was part of a procedure well known among people in the business of global murder incorporated, or Carlos was heading towards the surprise of his life. 

My feeling was that the Latin was being led step by step to a place there is no darkness except total oblivion. Where I could see only sinister premonitions, the Latin saw his way to safety.

The two men in black stood aside and watched carlos approach the podium. They had on evil smile on two faces but they reamined passive as if their part of the job had been concluded. They  were merely enjoying spectators of the next act. The two men in black were not all together comfortable in spite of the evil smile; they threw glances at the darkest direction in the recesses of the cave with evil expectations.  Like  they were spectators without tickets; like the actual paying customers for those two places might arrive any time now and the ticket control with them.

But Carlos was still calm. He had advanced to the edge of the platform and was looking for an appropriate place on the cave floor from which to step onto the high platform. Suddenly about a dozen shapes appeared from the darkest recess of the corner. The foremost one was carrying a burning cross that served as a torch. They must have emerged from a tunnel bend because there was no sign of a fire approaching until they materialized in full view of the Latin. The evil smile on the faces of the two men in black escalated into shades of ecstasy. They were now like patrons of a bloody opera well satisfied for their costs.

The leading gorilla of the troop stamped the burning cross halfway between the platform and the pit. His troop, all of them hooded shapes in long cloaks, rushed to the Latin and grabbed him on every limb. They brought him to the pit and quickly moved out of it. It happened so fast as if they had simply dumped the man onto the heavy chair. But when they made a ring around the pit and admired their handiwork, it appeared that the poor Latin was bound to the immobile chair by a very thick rope that looked like the coils of a pyton.

Under the illumination from the burning cross no expression could be discerend on the Latin face. It was not possible to guess if he was under shock or if he merely assumed this to be a test of some kind before he was to be conveyed to safety by despicable underlings of his lofty unknown superior.

'Is the Latin beast drugged into harmlessness?'

Asked the chief hood or master cloak.

'He is unschaedlich if he ate the weiss wurst!' replied the short man in black.

'He is unschaedlich if he drunk the Lowenbreu!' said the long man in black.

'Nun, has he or has he not eaten the weisswurst?' asked the chief hood with merciless authority.

The short man in black twitched in agony but could bring no noise out of him.

'Nun, has he or has he not drunk the beer?' asked the chief hood.

The long man in black made an uncontrolled, short, jerky motion in agony but could bring no noise out of him.

'Go to the van and find out how much of what he has eatin, you nitwits!' admonished the chief hood.

The two men in black walked to the dark well that was the hidden elevator shaft connecting the cave to the inn above. The van would still be parked outside the inn. Nono of the hooded company moved for the quarter of an hour until the two men in black came down the well.

'Nun, has he or has he not eaten the weisswurst? Has he or has he not drunk the beer?'  repeated the chief hood this time with warmth of a comrade.

'He has touched nothing but the wash water.' said bot men in black in unison.

'Was the wash water drugged or was it not?' asked the hood with resurging anger.

'The water was for washing only and therefore it had not been drugged.' Said the long man in black.

'There was beer for drinking,' added the short man in black.

'Well, well! The sneaky Latin has cheated us!' mused the chief hood. He has drunk the wash water and left the beer untouched! But he has not thought of wasting some beer to make us believe he has been drugged unschaedlich while he has not been so.'

The chief hood walked to the edge of the pit in which Carlos was sitting without slightest reaction.

'To drink would have been better for you.' said the chief hood and barked a command at the two men in black who were now errand boys.'

'Injection then! Get den Herrn Doktor Mengele Junior!'

The tow errand boys in black rushed to the elevator shaft and disappeared.

'Guten alten Hans Mengele,' he added warmly like very pleased at the prospect of seeing an admirable personality.

Scorpions have their affections too, I realized with surprize.

The dirty dozen of hooded men moved away from the pit in which Carlos sat. He was bound with thick ropes and  unable to move but the twelve hooded beasts were afraid of him from the moment they found out he had not been drugged.

The hooded company went to the platform, jumped on to it and filled the twelve chairs around the timber table. Judging by the noises their stampeding feet made on the wooden platform, some of them must have wooden shoes. The long cloaks they wore dragged on the dirty floor, hiding their shoes completely. 

The hoods had long pointed ends and two holes for the eyes. In the light of the burning cross it was not possible to figure out what color the gardrobe was or if all of the uniforms had the same color. Variations that appeared and disappeared might be due to shades; the illumination from the burning cross might be bringing out different aspects of the dirt as they moved or as the flames transmuted. Judging by the turbulance of the flames, there was an alternating draft in the direction from the tunnel through which the hooded company had appeared and the well that was a hidden elevator shaft.

Doctor Hans Mengele Junior walked into the area illuminated by the burning cross. He came not by way of the shaft through which the errand boys had gone up to fetch him. He walked out of the dark recess from which the hooded company had appeared before. 

'Ach, der gute Alte Doktor!' said the chief hood jubilant. 'Hat schmeckt in dem Schloss?'

The good old doctor with his medicine bag and old coat was a typical specimen of general practioners in these medieval duchies. His face was a grinning mask. 

'Hat schmeckt lecker in dem Schloss?' repeated the chief hood and at the same time mouthed invisible goodies.

The grinning mask gave the chief hood a hush warning look without relaxing the grin.

'Keine sorge, herr doktor! Delicatessen  kommt nicht mehr raus hier!' soothed the chief hood and again mouthed invisible goodies like he had been looking forward to eat delicatessen. 

I had a horrible feeling that delicatessen for the hooded company and their dear old doctor would not be salads; the creatures looked every bit carnivorous!

The good old village doctor was grave and serious in the sequence of his movements in spite of the unchanging and misleading permanent grin mask; he walked to the pit, put his medicine bag on the ground and jumped inside the pit as if he was very familiar with every lose stone on the rough floor of it. He opened the bag, took out an injection and trusted it into the neck of the Latin.

'Na, you do not blink!' said the doctor to the bound Latin and petted on a shoulder as if carefully testing a sedated savage cat.

Carlos made no reaction.

Dr. Mengele Junior stepped out of the pit with the help of the two errand boys in black who had returned to the performance by way of the same hidden shaft. Why it took them longer than the doctor was a mystery. Maybe they had called someone from the inn and someone had called some one other until the doctor could be reached. Then, the errand boys would have some beer before they descended to the cave.

As for the doctor, he might have been in that decrepit looking medievall castle that was visible breifly from where the van had parked outside the inn. Maybe there were underground tunnels connecting to that castle various caves under all the roadside inns on the roads approaching Frankfurt.

I forced my memory to remember all that I could about that town. There is the central bank also called Deutschebank; That must be the same called Reichsbank before. There are lots of other banks. This is the town from which bankers Rotschield have started their operations but not before changing their name from Amsel Bayer into Rotschieldt. 

I wondered what historical characters so vital in global tragedies had been formed in the occult dens which were hidden beneath the ground on this side of the Rhine; if Friedrich Engels, an undisputed German and Karl Marx, probably a crypto-German, were cooked in this town; in the very same lodge or cell in which Amsel Bayer was trained for a most delicate operation. maybe it was here that the back bone of what the world came to regret as the British Empire had been forged like a Gholem out of banknotes and sulphur in these very forgeries of Eisengard or Eisenburg under watchfull supervision of Wizard Sarumann or Duke von Gerumann.

The assemblage that had gathered around a sedated Latin inspired fear but also thoughts. Dark shades produced by the illumination from the burning cross stretched to nooks and cranies of the cavern but when watched from the safety of a Space Orb on the monitor, when observed free from physical fear, free from direct danger to the animal half of us, these bizzare shades contracting and extending erratically as the draught from the tunnel thet led here from the castle, also darkened explanations in the mind that had been looked clear enough in my unsuspecting and carefree existance before now.

Was it really so that these people famous for meticulous planning down to the last detail had so much miscalculated in two world wars and ruined themselves in their delusions?

Was it true that after each ruination come after losing an aggressive war, these people were raised by American generosity?

Was it true that these people had really lost those wars?

I could not believe that such obnoxious cannibals had won every single conflict they provoked; even if on their own timing and on their own choice of war theaters and against allies of their own choice, differnetly configured in each war to suit their ocult agenadas. They would have rally and genuinly lost many a war. But here was a parasitic species whose main capability was deceit. Therefore, I would not be surprised to find out that the wars they appear to have lost are those they actually won; and this has to be judged not by what seemed to be the outcome of a capitulation but the actual solid results a few years later.

Again, I would expect from a deceitful species to impose the memory of the wars it actually lost to be its victories; just to deceive the natives of this planet so that resistance would look for friends in wrong places and suspect enemies where natural kin are.

Deceit then is the key concept when attempting a taxonomy of this species, these Easterlings as Scots called them for generations! Easterlings from behind the Rhine Latins must have called them for a thousand years or more.

Only recently it must be that the deceitful alien has redefined the word Easterling to refer to natives of the planet further east from them; the Slavs and others. if this redefinition of words really happened, it can have one main objective: to delude the Latins into false alliances against natural allies.


	Chapter 9- IN THE FANGS OF VEHMIC TRIBUNALS


	The Interrogation

A short while after the injection the doctor descended into the pit once more and held the pulse of the Latin prisoner. He must be counting silently. Then he nodded at the podium upon which the chief hood hammered on the timber table with a wooden gavel.

'Die Fehme! Holy Vehm! Free Vehmic Tribunal of Westphalia is in session! I proclaim silence!'

The hooded company on the podium hushed; they all straigtened up in their sits and assumed the appearance of a tribunal to which the the gavel holder was now the presiding judge. He opened the session with grave airs of following the due process of law:

'A criminal is to be judged. A cause to be decided. the  Graff and the Free Echevins are assembled around the Konig-stuhl. The Frohner my open the proceedings.'

Upon which the long man in Black stepped froward to near the pit where the sedated Latin was from the the corner he had been standing together with the long man in black and recited what sounded like an ancient rhyme:

'Sir Graff, with permission,    
I beg you to say, 
According to law, and without delay,    
If I your Knave,    
Who judgment crave,    
With your good grace, 
Upon the King's seat this seat may place.'

To this address the chief hood who must be the Graff replied:  

'While the sun shines with even light 
Upon Masters and Knaves, I shall declare 
The law of might, according to right. 
Place the King's seat true and square; 
Let even measure, for justice' sake, 
Be given in sight of God and man, 
That the plaintiff his compliant may make, 
And the defendant answer if he can.'

In conformity to this permission, the long man in black who was the 'Frohner ' walked to a crudely made timber chair of some antiquity, pulled it from under the doctor who had been perching on it. This worty specialist jumped up with his medicine bag tightly held in his lap and stood aside. The Frohner carried the crude vehicle of justice to the podium and placed it in the middle of the empty area on front side from the long crude timber table.

'The frohner has placed the  seat of judgment in the midst of the plot,' echoed the chief justice as if to an invisible court stenographer for the record.

'Listen to the Frohner; he will speak for the second time.' said the chief justice and the Frohner indeed spoke a second time. There could be no doubt that due process of some ancient law was being followed to the minute detail.

'Sir Graff Master brave,  
I remind you of your honor, here,  
And moreover that I am your Knave;  
Tell me, therefore, for law sincere,  
If these mete-wands are even and sure,  
Fit for the rich and fit for the poor,  
Both to measure land and condition;  
Tell me as you would eschew perdition.'

'Where is the wand, you knave!' retorted the chief justice in hood and the whole coven broke into monstrous laughter.

The long man in black looked at his empty hand and then around himself in confusion.

At this moment, the short man in black came running to him and handed his comrade a stick. This was a wooden scepter of about a meter long. It appeared like made from a tree branch. It was adorned with carvings to look like ceremonial or emblematic staff, a baton used by a magician or water diviner.

The long man in black took the wand, turned around to face the twelve hooded justices and placed the want on the sit of justice.

'Encore, you knave!' thundered the chief hood.

The long man in black took the stick from the chair, and repeated the dictum:

'Sir Graff Master brave,  I remind you of your honor, here...'

'Enough, you knave, place the meter wand on the Stuhl of Justice.'

So it was done.

The Graff then left his chair, walked round the table to the front of the platform, raised a foot and placed it on the sit of judgement.

'I measure, by placing my  right foot against the wand on the Stuhl of Judgement.' he declared and then having satisfied the law, he walked back to his chair.

'Now, the other Free Echevins are to do what I did; in rank and order, according to seniority, bitte.'

Each one of the hooded company made the same journey to the crude chair of precise judgement, each one raised a foot and placed his shoe along the stick on the chair and then returned to his place.

Chief justice on the Rhine or rather under the Rhine spoke again:

'The length of the mete-wand being thus proved; the  Frohner will speak for the third time.'

And indeed the long man in black did speak another time, and it was the third time for any who have confidence in the count of a chief justice such as this hooded monster.

'Sir Graff, I ask by permission, 
If I with your mete-wand may mete 
Openly, and without displeasure,  
Here the king's free judgment seat.'

And the hooded Graff replied:

'I permit right, 
And I forbid wrong,  
Under the pains and penalties  
That to the old known laws belong.'

Then the hooded Graf left his own chair once more and walked to the Sit of Judgement. The Frohner took the measuring wand from the sit and placed it into the open hands of the Graf. Upon completion of this stage in the due process of law, the other eleven characters likewise left their chairs and lined behind the Graf who had walked to the front right corner of the platform. Upon this, the long man in black took place at the end of the line and then the short man in black climbed the platform and stood behind him. There were now fourteen persons standing in line of which first twelve were hooded and cloacked. They stood motionless for sometime until the chief hood shouted at the doctor who was watching the holy ceremony with fascination.

'Get on, doctor!'

The doctor did get on to the platform with the help of two men in black and took his place behind them in line. They all held a hand stretched out as if they were all holding one invisible rope.

The Graf said:

'Now is the time of measuring the mystic plot. It must be measured along and athwart. along first.'

He bent down and carefull placed the stick on the platform. Then the hooded creature behind him gave the stick a sommersault and then the one behind him likewise until all fifteen of them had done so and the stick had reached the other end of the platform. Upon this careful application of the due process of law, the length of the crude timber platform which was to serve dispensation of justice was  certified to have the length of fifteen sticks; sticks, the length of each having been previously ceritfied to be a number of feet of the hooded chief justice.

'Now is the time of measuring the mystic plot. It must be measured along and athwart. athwart next.' said the chief justice and the ceremony was repeated for the breath of the podium. The width was likewise certified to be equal to fifteen of the same authorized stick.

'The mystic plot is measured by the mete wand along and athwart, and the dimensions are  found to be true.'

Thus announcing the satisfactory results, the Graff placed himself in the seat of judgment which was now moved to replace a very similar chair on which the chief hood had been sitting before. The previous sit was lowered from the podium to the ground. The doctor who had no place allocated on the podium nimbly jumped down and occupied this empty chair. Probably his services were needed during the interrogation of sedated Latin prisoner. It was clear to me by now that Carlos was a prisoner of these people and that they had no intention of his going out of this place as a free man in possession of his mental capacities to tell the wide world what he had witnessed in a cavern under the grounds of an inn by the side of a motorway leading to Frankfurt.

Fifteen strangely costumed men standing in line and holding the same rope or snake! Now, where did I see this image? Sethos! In the pyramid of Sethos! Since I have never been to Egypt, where could I have seen a wall painting deep inside a pyramid? Reincarnation would be a mathematical absurdity. To see and forget a movie from which glimpses come back is more hygenic than to be born again! Oh, I got it. I have seen the image in one of those big art format books full of color pictures. In one of those books produced mysteriously, put on show at horrendous prices for a years and then moved outside bookshops into boxes of discounted junk.

This scene, I had seen in one such discounted art book; a reproduction from the original painted inside the pyramid grave of Sethos, first of the name. The scene depicted fifteen men in ritual costume measuring a rope; they were lined by rank along the rope at equal distance from each other. They held the rope at belt level, each person lending one hand to the task. The front end of the rope was stylized into a snake head.

Gradually I could remembered those large hardcover art books exhibited outside a shop. I had paged through several but bought none; to heavy to drag alone. I had seen one titled the Grave of Sethos I. It looked like giving all the pictures there were on inside walls of that pyramid. The pictures had not appealed to me at all and no significance could be read into silly symbols; but then, at the time I knew nothing of the Fehme of Westphalia with power over death and life in this twentyfirst century. 

Vehmic Tribunals; mockery of Justice; Judiciary arm of the hidden hand! Here was the original monster, the source of all nightmares articulated in all alien horror stories full of unidentified stalking objects, hairraising tales of kidnapping.

I remembered an episode from Star Trek. An invisible breed of a scientific Volk has penetrated the starship Voyager. They are everywhere in the ship from sick bay to the lift, pricking needles into faces of people; for the advancement of science, we understand. Targeted crew of Voyager sufferes under incessant headaches and other pains. Visible medicine is helpless. Except, Seven-o-Nine can see them! An accident, a freak, and therefore a factor unexpected by the invisible parasite. So advanced and yet so primitively necrophilic! Pricking needles that cause pain! If it is not scientific to enjoy inflicting pain, juct call it: we study pain! 


Suddenly I could visualize a page from that art book. Title on the page was: pictures on the fifth level of the grave. There was a rope held by 15 persons; or may be 16 persons. The picture was cut and spread over two pages, making them difficult to count exactly. This motive was repeated on other walls of the pyramid, sometimes the rope being styled as a snake but always held by the 15 persons standing apart along a line and holding the rope or the snake with one hand each at the level of their belt.

it would be interesting to know when the pyramid of Sethos I was first opened, when those pictures fist became available to Europe and how many centuries before that the Holy Vehm of Westphalia had this ritual. The question of origin ought to be examined with absolutely open mind; the Rhine or the Nile? 

Scrambled associations flooded into my mind: Amarna letters, Ramses, Nineteenth dynasty, Nomes and Duchies, Priests and Dukes, Troy, Border Station of the Hittite, the Sea People in service of the Unknown Superior, ANZAK in service of the Coburg king of Britain. 

My processors were overloaded. I was knocked out of focused thinking. Reboot, I thought, raising two fingers of the left hand and one of the right hand. Control and Alt and Del. I smiled and relaxed: good old Microsoft, where would we be without you.

While I strayed in time and space, the Vehmic Tribunal of Westphalia remained rigidly focused on its ancient rituals in the cave under Frankfurt. For now the best thing I could do was to watch the cabal very carefully. I could not decide yet which was the worse evil, the Latin from whose killer teams we had saved three innocent lives or the Holy German Inquisition which was going to grill their killer who had failed. I could see no reason why to interfere in this ghastly process except to observe for the record. After all, even venomous snakes are studied for purposes, if for no practical reason, then for the sake of giving them the place they deserve in taxonomy of life forms. A venomous snake or scorpion has the same rights to a place in taxonomy as an affectionate mother polar bear.

The Fehme was in session and it had, maybe first time in its mileannial history, outside observers. I was watching, the three old monks from the orient were watching or could watch from the video record later; and the three young monks from the orient were watching. What makes all the difference is, we were watching from a Sopace Orb at a safe distance from this cabal whose pride over thoudands of years must have been never to let any witness get away to tell the tale.

Chief Justice was going about the business with conciencous attention to due process of law.

'I gave the charge to the assembled Free Echevins, warning them  to pronounce judgment, according to right and justice.' said the chief hood with the satisfaction of a pedant after a job well done.

The unholy coven had been so absorbed with the ceremony that they hardly looked in the direction of the prisoner for the benefit of whom the complicated and expensive process was obviously being enacted.

The Graf hammered the timber table again.

'On this day, with common consent, 
And under the clear firmament, 
A free field court is established here, 
In the open eye of day; 
Enter soberly, ye who may. 
The seat in its place is pight, 
The mete-wand is found to be right; 
Declare your judgments without delay. 
And let the doom be truly given, 
Whilst yet the Sun shines bright in heaven.'


A free field court under the clear skies? Do the subterranean rogues know not where they are?

Strange, strange, I thought and remembered a quote: ' nothing in this strange system is what it appears to be. Everything here is the opposite of what it ought to be!' Who said that and to what was he referring? That is the problem with my memory overloaded with random browsing. Too many movies, too much junk. The pearls may be there too but how to find them when needed? Ah, Tom Paine of course. But was he referring to the Hessians or to the Hanoverians, or to a church infiltrated by these? Never mind that now but check it out later, I thought and resumed the torturous job of watching the bizzarre alien ritual in a cave somewhere under Frankfurt. 

What an irony if this network of caves, stages of mediveal, nay, BC medieval rituals expanded to under most modern looking facades above ground, like the Deutche bank. I would not be surprised if this turned out to be the case. Maybe access to and from the bank into and out of the cave system had an interface legitimately built under the bank as bomb shelter.

A free field court under the clear skies? Do the subterranean rogues know not where they are?

Suddenly a text flashed into my mind from a far away context that I must have read during my random foraging in the libraries of old. 

'I tell you clear and open this day as I stand on this bank of the river Euphrates, that your wish will be granted in three times etc.'

It was about oracles of vestal virgins in the Pantheon of Rome. These brides of the invisible gave oracles in rhyme to Romans who came to the gates of the Temple with questions of burning importance to them. I forgot what the question was to which a vestal virgin opened a chest full of fragmented books and picked half a page from which the daughter of Rome read this text.'

Now here was a tribunal of twelve hooded and colaked justices, assembled in a cave deep under the Rhine and yet the ceremonial text they lip serviced had all the marks of stolen property; stolen from some honest folk in ancient times; some honest folk not given to cloacks and hoods nor to caves; some tribe that dispensed justice in open courts held on open ground and the decisions of which were presented to friend and foe for evaluation and admiration or condemnation and revision as the case might deserve.

Here however was a species with a character alltogether different from the character of whatever folks these rhymes were stolen from.

Many associations flooded into my mind: story of the hangmen and the convicted virgins in the time of Tiberius when ancient laws of Italy still survived and forbade the punishing of any virgin; stories of aliens taking possession of an American small town; and much more from real life as well as from works of fiction. I was too overwhelmed to sort out all the associations, so I let them go as they came to my mind. Much is the pity because such bridges hold keys to passages that will possibly long remain unexplored if the transient key of inspiration is not immediately employed in openeing the gates to them or at least copied in solid form for later use.


	Dec 19, 2003 Friday

My mind was wandering again until hammering of the gavel on the monitor refreshed my attention.

The chief hood was definitely master of his cave. The Latin in the pit, sedated by the injection, was oblivious to all the ritual, all the care expanded by the hooded troop; but the holy and jolly Vehmic Tribunal appeared determined to allow the the accused all the benefit of the due process of law; this, even without antics of a defence attorney, sincere or false. Had such a defense attorney been present, he might raise objections to the practice of sedating with injection but then even this might really be for the benefit of the prisoner; lest he lose temper. There was no way an accused person properly sedated to lose control and be in contempt of court, a state of affairs that has never been to the advantage of the accused, even of the wrongly accused. 

Chief hood was at it again:

'Judgment will be given by the Free Echevins according to plurality  of voices.' 

And again:

'Only a very few reports of these our Free Vehmic Tribunals of Westphalia have reached the ignorant masses unaware of the good work we perform for them. Unexcusable poetical license has transferred something  of these our judicial rhymes into mockeries.'

Hooded and cloacked chief judge made a pause and deeply sighed, possibly at the ingratitude of the beneficiaries of a sound system. The hooded company was excited and produced words appropriate and descriptive of the fate of selfless idealists everywhere: 

'Schande.'

'Jawohl, eine schande ist das.'

'Was alles man macht fuer jenen die...'

'...die es zu bequem haben ohne zu wissen...'

The gavel banged on the timber table: 

'Enough self pity. We do what we can for the good of all. The actual  constitution of our courts, the protocols of our  proceedings,do not altogether realize the popular  idea of our terrors and tyranny. It may be allowed to me to  question whether the protocols of our tribunals are quite  worthless to correct all the falsehood of rumors respecting us. Unfortunately the false rumors have an advantage over our secret protocols; they spread out there while our protocols must be confined to the trust of the elect only.'

He paused and sighed again. The hooded company harmonized again:

'Very true.'

'Jawohl, sehr richtig.'

'No doubt about it.'

'Gar kein Zweifel.'

'Not our fault.'

'Of course cannot publish the secret protocols just to make a point to some fools.'

'Better bring them here and show them here.'

'Very true.'

The gavel hammered again, with longer pauses between each bang. Sympathies were appreciated.

Chairman o a wronged and maligned tribunal continued:

'Our Court is held with known and notorious  publicity:  the doctor here knows it, the innkeeper above knows it, the duke in the castle knows it, the accused will come to know it when he revives somehow from the protective sedation.'

The twelve hooded judges sitting on the bench and looking at the accused in the pit through the eye holes in their hoods broke into enthusiastic applause. They did this not with two clapping hands but by banging hands and hooks on the timber table. 

'Could not agree more.'

'Very true.'

'Jawohl, he will know us.'


'Our Court is held beneath the eye of light.' said the chief justice and all agreed pointing at the burning cross that illuminated the cave deep underground.




'And our sentences, though  speedy and severe, are founded upon a regular system of established  jurisprudence, not so strange, even to England, as it may at first  sight appear.'

'Very true.'

'Wilhelm Nassau had the same in London.'

'After him Oldenburg extended to Ireland and Scotland.'

'After him Hanover took it to french Canada.'

'And to the plantations. For the benefit of Scots in new England.'

'Too primitive for our Vehmic Law, the plantations chose the  path of terrorists.'

'Cannot civilize all the people all the time but surely some people most of the time.'

Chief Justice gave time for the pearls of wisdom and then bang, came down the hammer.

'Westphalia, according to our ancient constitution, is divided  into districts called 'Freygraffschafften,' each of which contains one, and sometimes many, Vehmic tribunals, whose boundaries  are accurately defined.'

'Very true.'

'No law and order without accurate boundaries.'

'Jurisdiction precisely defined.'

'Top fine to reveal to the uninitiated.'

Chief Justice was obviously well versed in the lore of justice in Central Europe; down to what point in ancient time, I wondered.

He continued with glittering blue and red eyes in the holes of the hood, reflecting the flames of the burning cross. 

'The right of the Stuhlherr, or Duke,  is of a feudal nature, and can be transferred by the ordinary  modes of alienation, and if the Duke did not chose to act in  his own person, he nominated a 'Freigraff' to execute the office  in his stead.'

'Of course!'

'Duke of Hesse is busy in the castle!'

'Especially since September 11!'

'No time to personally attend every session.'

The chief confirmed every comment with a nod, and then continued:

'The court itself is composed of Frey-schoppfen,  Scabini or Echevins, nominated by the Graff, and who are divided  into two classes: the ordinary, and the 'Wissenden' or 'Witan,'  who were admitted under a strict and singular bond of secrecy.'

'Justice is a sensitive business.'

'Of course we must meet in secret.'

'Our faces must remain hidden.'

'To dispense justice without fear from reaction.'

'Reaction is be terrible.'

'We must remain unknown.'

'Unknown to the accused.'

'Unknown to the witness.'

'Cannot let a witness get away if he saw the judges.'

'Unknown to the happy beer drinkers above.'

'Even as they owe us the standard of their life.'

'None must know who we are.'

'Or where we sleep.'

'Could be fatal. The Tribunal must protect itself.'

'Holy reflexes!'

'But we must know where every creature has its nest.'

'Our undercover V-men must count them and number them.'

'Film them and file them and watch them.'

'Our undercover army must not know our faces.'

'We are not safe. None is safe.'

'Danger lurks.'

'We must be well protected.'

'Terror lies in wait for us', 

'Terrorist lies in ambush for us', 

'Resistance to progress behaves in a sneaky and secretive manner.'

'French resistance...'

'...is evil.'

'Shame.'

'Shande!!'

The gavel in the one hand of the chief of Holy Vehm hammered the timber again, prescribing an absolute hush.

'The field under the open sky, even this holy German Red Earth on which we stand to dispatch justice, is measured with the measuring wand and found correct; it has been measured by us; but are we qualified for the job? We are, and I will now state for the record whence our authority.'

The masked company on the bench was silent even at the pause. This here was about their personal qualifications. Obviously this breed had principles: not only where they keen on passing judgement accorfing to due process of law but they were even ready to subject their own qualifications to scrutiny. All very proper.

Chief justice explained:

'The initiation of every one of you, members of my holy bench, has taken place upon the red earth, which is the ever expanding territory separating the Latin from the Slav. The Rhine is its backbone, from Lichtenstein to Luxemburg  within the ancient Duchy of Westphalia.'

He paused again for the geography to register.

'Bareheaded  and ungirt, each candidate is conducted before the eternal tribunal.  He is interrogated as to his qualifications, or rather as to  the absence of any disqualification. To join this bench, as each of you have done, a candidate must be...'

The chief nodded vehemantly at his bench upon which they joined in one after the other according to some rank under the hoods and cloaks that hid all distinguishing features and decorations.

'He must be freeborn, a Teuton, a Teutch!'

'He must be clear of any accusation cognizable by the tribunal of which  he is to become a member.'

The chief justice nodded to each contributer and then continued:

'The candidate to join this bench is thoroughly interrogated. If the answers are satisfactory, he  then takes the oath, swearing by the Holy Law that he will conceal  the secrets of the Holy Vehme from...'

The chief justice paused and nodded at his bench again and they joined in:

'... that he will conceal  the secrets of the Holy Vehme from wife and child,'

'from father  and mother,'

'from sister and brother;'

'from fire and water;'

'from  every creature upon which the sun shines;'

'or upon which the rain falls;'

'from every being between earth and heaven.'

'It is a dangerous place between earth and heaven.'

'Under the earth is safety.'

The chief continued:

'The candidate before joining this bench further swears,  that he will say forth to the tribunal all crimes or offences...'

'... which fall beneath the secret ban of the Emperor, 

'... which he knows  to be true,'

'... or which he has heard from trustworthy report.

The chief Justice rounded up the contributions:

'... and  that he will not forbear to do so, for love nor for loathing, for  gold nor for silver nor precious stones. Each one of you, members of my bench, have satisfied all these conditions, have you not?'

'We have!' yelled the hooded company, wawing a mixed forest of limbs and hooks that appeared from beneath the cloaks.

I wondered if it was also a condition of qualification that half the bench have an amputated leg and the other half an amputated arm. Probably the chief justice would explain this detail too, since he was the most competent pedant I had ever encountered in real life universe or in virtual and parallel universes of fiction.

Give to the law what is due to the law; the chief Justice had more to give:

'This oath being  imposed upon him, the new Freischodff is then intrusted with  the secrets of the Vehmic tribunal. He receives the password by  which he is to know his fellows, and the grip or sign by which  you recognize each other in silence; and he is warned of the  terrible punishment awaiting the perjured brother.'

The hooded company shivered in unison. Risks of the profession were not made of light matter.

The seriousness of the way they conducted business was interfering with my own moral judgement. What was I to make of this performance? Had their authority not extended over life and death, I might even laugh. Were they abomination? Probably, but who would associate abomination with perfect organization?

If I could say with certainty that these creatures were an abomination, abhorrable aliens invisible to the bulk of mankind like those perverted aliens who once infiltrate the star ship Voyager to inflict pain and study it, then all their procedures would add to the abomination. Here is what I would make of the farce then:

Password, grip or sign of hand for recognition. Stock of all branches of the cowardly occult cabal to this day. Members of a gang assigned an area to terrorize do not know each other. Clan masks hide their faces where they meet and go over lists of natives to murder. Being people of no character, they live in constant dread of being caught by the natives. They well know, judging each from himself, that if natives were to suspect the existence of such a thing in their midst, would easily catch one and make him talk. Each knows how much his oath is worth. Not a bad penny as soon as beyond the reach of terror. A credible offer of protection against his own pals and a little gold would be enough for any of them to trash the whole organization. 

Or, would it? How much bribe would a snake ask for before betraying the den of its own kind?

The chief justice gave more of the rules by which the bench was bound.

'If a member of this bench discloses the secrets of this Court, he is to expect that he will  be suddenly seized by the ministers of vengeance.'

He looked at the two men in black and they stood to attention under the illumination of the burning cross.

'The eyes are  bound, he is cast down on the soil, his tongue is torn out  though the back of his neck; and he is then to be hanged seven  times higher than any other criminal.'

He paused.

'By virtue of the stronger ties of mystery,  no instance is ever known of any violation of the secrets  of the tribunal. Not in our generation, not ever.' 

The chief justice looked admonishingly at the doctor who had yawned. Doctor mengele Junior must have heard this many times before.

'Thus connected by an invisible bond, the members of the  Holy Vehme became extremely numerous. In the fourteenth century,  the league contained upwards of one hundred thousand members of the benches.  Persons of every rank were in this powerful  community of justice, and to participate in the immunities which the brethren  possessed. Princes allowed their ministers to become  the members of this holy alliance; and the cities  of the Holy German Empire were equally anxious to enroll their magistrates  in the Vehmic union.'

Maybe what bored the doctor was not the standard procedure but the delving into the past done at discretion of the chief justice merely to satisfy his vanity.

The sedated Latin, the accused for the benefit of whom the session was being conducted was oblivious to all this; probably he did not even hear the tale. In any case, sitting in the pit tightly bound to the rough timber chair, he showed no reaction. Radiation of the flaming cross bounced off his eyes as if those were made of glass. 

'The supreme government of the Vehmic tribunals was vested in the  great General Chapter, composed of the Freegraves and all the  other initiated members, high and low.  Over this assembly the  Emperor of Holy German Reich might preside in person, but more usually by his deputy,  the Stadtholder of the ancient Duchy of Westphalia; and once which,  after the fall of Henry the Lion, Duke of Brunswick, was annexed to  the Archbishopric of Cologne.'

Doctor Mengele Junior yawned again.

Freegrave is free graf I gather, Graf meaning Baron and free meaning landless yet  but available to become Emperor of Mexico or king of Texas after the next war of secession. Then, the chap is no more free, having assumed the immense responsibility to westernize Mexico or Texas.

The hooded judge had so much to say and nowhere to say it but this cavern. He was not taking any shortcuts. Not even to save the doctor from suffocation under severe boredom.

'Before the general Chapter all the members were liable to account  for their acts. The 'Freegraves' reported  the proceedings which had taken place within their jurisdictions  in the course of the year. Unworthy members were expelled or  sustained a severe punishment. 

'Statutes, or 'Reformations,' as they  were called, were here enacted for the regulation of the Courts,  and the amendment of any abuses; and new and unforeseen cases, for  which the existing laws did not provide a remedy, received their  determination in the Vehmic Parliament.'

There was a Vehmic Parliament; a shadow parliament, that governed through its organs convening in caves under all centers of population.

'As the Echevins were of two classes, uninitiated and initiated, so the Vehmic Courts had also a twofold character: the Ofenbare Ding was an Open Court or Folkmoot but the Heissliche Acht was the far-famed Secret Tribunal such as we are here.'

The chief justice went on:

"If without any certain accuser, and without the indication of crime,  an individual was strongly and vehemently suspected; or when the  nature of the offence was such as that its proof could only rest  upon opinion and presumption, the offender then became subject to  what the German jurists term the inquisitorial proceeding; it  became the duty of the Echevin to denounce the 'Leumund,' or manifest  evil fame, to the secret tribunal. if the Echevins and the Freygraff  were satisfied with the presentment, either from their own knowledge,  or from the information of their compeer, the offender was said to  be 'verfambt' -- his life was forfeited; and wherever he was found  by the brethren of the tribunal, they executed him without the  slightest delay or mercy. An offender who had escaped from the Echevins  was liable to the same punishment; and such, also, was the doom of  the party who, after having been summoned pursuant to an appeal  preferred in open court, made default in appearing. 


"But one of the  'Wissenden' was in no respect liable to the summary process, or  to the inquisitional proceeding, unless he had revealed the secrets  of the Court. He was presumed to be a true man; and if accused  upon vehement suspicion, or 'Leumund,' the same presumption or evil  repute which was fatal to the uninitiated, might be entirely  rebutted by the compurgatory oath of the free Echevin. If a party,  accused by appeal did not shun investigation, he appeared in the open  court, and defended himself according to the ordinary rules of law.  If he absconded, or if the evidence or presumptions were against him,  the accusation then came before the judges of the Secret Court,  who pronounced the doom.

"The accusatorial process, as it was termed,  was also, in many cases, brought in the first instance before the  'Heimliche Acht.' Proceeding upon the examination of witnesses,  it possessed no peculiar character, and its forms were those of the  ordinary courts of justice. It was only in this manner that one of the  'Wissenden,' or 'Witan', could be tried; and the privilege of being  exempted from the summary process, or from the effects of the 'Leumund,'  appears to have been one of the reasons which induced so many of  those who did not tread the 'red earth' to seek to be included  in the Vehmic bond.


"That Frenchman Charlemagne, according to the traditions of Westphalia, was the  founder of the Vehmic tribunal; and it was supposed that he  instituted the Court for the purpose of coercing the Saxons, ever  ready to relapse into the idolatry from which they had been  reclaimed, not by persuasion, hut by the sword.

'But we know better on this side of the Rhine. Before the French Empire was, we are!'

 The chief justice had been standing during most of his speech. Now that he demonstrated the court competent to deal with the business brought before it, he sat down with satisfaction.

There was long silence. The flaming cross continued to produce evil shapes on nooks and cranies of the cave. The doctor looked happier as if he knew the worst or the most boring part to be over. The two man in black shifted to attention from a relaxed standing position.

'What is the charge against the accused?' asked the chief justice with utmost gravity.

'He knows too much!' said the long man in black.

'That is a serious crime. How come he by the knowledge of too much?'

'In the course of duties entrusted to him.'

'May he be delivered to the cook without adversity to the Reich?'

'He may not until he tells things only he can know.'

'That is a case for specialists. Does the bench agree?'

'Jawohl!' growled all the hooded judges.

'It is decreed then that the accused be kept in the cells of this cave; be made available to the experts in this same place for debriefing for the duration of three months, extendable if so requested by the experts; and at the satisfactory termination of debriefing the accused be delivered into the hands of the royal cook of the castle. Take him to his cell.'

The two men in black walked towards the pit to get the sedated Latin.

The bench however had objections to some parts of this decision. All the hoodeed judges of the secret tribunal murmered among themselves and when the murmur became general, they found courage to become more demonstrative. Hooked armes banged on the table. Wooden feet stamped and stumped on the wooden podium. It was a mayhem.

'This court will not allow unlawful crippling or mutilation of an accused before his time for delivery to the royal cook of the castle who is also the keeper of the inn above this ground.'

The bench went wilder. They were shouting deliriously.

'However' continued the chief judge, considering the experts will need not the head and mouth of the accused and he will need the belly and intestines to remain fit during the three months, to be extended if so requested by the experts, the four limbs of the accused may be removed under care of the doctor present in the Tribunals, with no adversity to the process of interrogation.'

The bench howled with joy.

'Well, don't just stand there,' yelled the doctor to the two men in black. 'You heard what the bench has decreed! Go fetch the cook who is keeper of the inn above.'

Both men in black moved towards the lift well but the doctor yelled again and ordered the short man in black back.

'You go unbind the accused. No reason to fear; he is sedated harmless. He can walk but only to where you lead him. He is not capable of breaking away. Unbind him and bring to the podium.'

The sedated Latin was brought to the podium. He walked without resistance as the short man in black led him.

The Latin was urged to climb the podium but he could not raise his foot that high. The doctor helped. On the podium, poor Carlos was gently laid down on the wooden floor on his back. 

Four of the judges left their sits on the bench, came to the accused and sat on his four limbs with their massive bodies.

The elevator came down and the inn keeper walked out of it with a huge axe in his hand. He also had a belt like that of hand workers except this one had an assortement of butcher knives hanging from it. The long man in black was carrying another axe and besides, a big plastic bowl: a round vessel that was open at the top; used for holding fruit or liquids or for serving food.

The innkeeper walked to the accused lying on the podium. Judging by the way he went about his business without a word, probably the innkeeper had much experience in what he was about to do.

The long man in black placed the bowl on the cave floor near the platform. The four judges on the platform pushed the accused nearer the edge so that the feet were dangling at the knees. Each axeman took position near one leg. If cut, the leg would fall into the bowl and the blood too would flow into it.

I was like undershock from the moment the two axmen walked out of the lift. Carried along with the long and ardous procedures of the due process of law, I was cought alltogether unprepared for such a turn of events. I was like paralyzed.

Time was running out and none of the remainder should be wasted on moral evalutation. Here was a horrendous thing about to happen which ought to be stopped whatever the outcome.

I looked around myself but then realized that I was not in the monitor hall of the space orb and therefore the monks were not around me. I was all by my own in the living quarter allocated for my use in the lover half of the sperical vessel.

With utmost effort I made a start like about to run up the stairs and beg the system administrator to interfere. But then, this would be too late.

This was like one of those dreams when the horrendous approaches and I knwo it is a dream and try to wake up but cannot.

Suddenly I desperately pressed the help botton on the keyboard without thinking. Only when the system administrator appeared in the help window did I recovered some of my senses and pointing at the view on the monitor, urged the electronic monk to interfere.

The good Oriental already had the remote control ready when he appeared on the help window. He had it ready to activate the confession hysteria frequency that would emanate from our mini Seiko camera that was conveying those pictures from the cave to our space orb.

I was speechless. Fortunately the system administrator had the same idea as I. He pushed the botton and briefly waited for the effect before he would leave my monitor. 

On the monitor, the long man with axe suddenly trembled with a sensation, lowered the ax and turned to the doctor:

'Herr Doktor Joseph Mengele Junior, have you any news of your ten years old daughter who disappeared last year?'

He was also tapping at the edge of the plastic bowl. It was big enough to hide a child of ten.

The doctor was sitting on that same chair on the cave floor with his medicine bag tightlly held in his lap. He looked at the long man in black without understanding. The short man in black norticed the puzzlement and ventured to bring some light onto the matter. He walked round the podium to a heap of dirt and food rests and picked somethings out of it. Then he advanced towards the doctor and showed them.

'I have a sudden urge to tell the truth, Doctor Joseph Mengele! These here are bones of your little daughter. That over there is the bowl in which she was brought here and then up the well into the kitchen above. Then she was brought down here as stuffed piggy. There was lots of beer too for all the bench. Then...'

The short man in black could not finish his sentence. A gun exploded and before its echoes had left the cave completely, the short man in black was a dead man, hit and collapsed into that very same bowl into which limbs of the accused were about to be chopped.

The doctor was still sitting in the same position and the bag was still on his lap, tightly held by one hand, but the bag was open. The other hand of the doctor was resting on the medicine bag but it was not holding it. There was a gun tightly held in this hand. 

After the short man in black collapsed, there was a momentary freezing of all movement in the cave. Except of course for the flame of the burning cross that appeared to be dancing to some gothic music.

The doctor was either shocked into a freeze or exhausted. He did not change his sitting position but he did move the hand resting on the bag slightly and pulled the trigger again. The Innkeeper collapsed onto the plastic bowl on top of the man in black. Then the hand of the doctor moved slightly to change the direction the gun was pointing at and fired again. The long man in black collapsed too.

The bench had been frozen until this moment. Upon the fall of the last axe, the bench revived, jumped down from the podium on the side furthest away from the sitting doctor and the twelve hooded judges disappeared into as many tunnels.


	Chapter 10- ESCAPE FROM WESTPHALIA


	Dec 20, 2003 Saturday

Doctor Joseph Mengele Junior remained seated with his medicine bag held by one hand in the lap, with the other tired hand holding the gun still rested on the bag. This was an exhausted old man. For whatever devils he might have served all his life, he looked a stranger to this stage.

Naturally I had abhorred the man for the job he did and had done many more times in the past. He was in the service of the duke of Hesse, raised as a vassal of the same, and had obviously served well since he enjoyed confidence of the occult cabal. He had not betrayed the devils he served until the shock of finding out that he himself had been betrayed by them.

I knew not how to judge this man; what to make of such a tragedy. 

I thought of butterflies come out of their cocoons and opened their eyes to find themselves deep underground shrouded with darkness instead of light they must be programmed to expect.

I have it on good authority that this happens more often than you would think possible. Every spring millions of butterfly larvae are transported by ants to underground tunnels. Completing the first episode of life, the larvae spin their own shrouds and prepare for the after life. Whether the butterfly that comes out of the shrouded corpse still possesses memories of its earthly life, I cannot know, but judging by universality of forgetfullness, I might bet against the rememberance.

What does a butterfly think deep down in the tunnel while busy ants go by in every direction? To start with, the tunnel through which the worm was brought down is not a friendly way out for the delicate wings. Comparing to the same fate for humans, the butterfly has one advantage: the ants that are cause of the tragedy are not cunning devils who delight in further torment of their victim. The ants do not hinder the escape into light from darkness. They probably regret the out come of their own doing. 

Though the inflated clan of entomologists has not yet reported it, I bet there exist ants who even widen the tunnels to ease the escape of their unfortunate guest into light from the darkness in which it is trapped beofre rebirth.

Then there are kidnapping ants which bring eggs of other ant species to their underground metropolis; the slaves are born there, know themselves to be of this city and serve it well. They are treated as second class citizens; this much is documented by the bug watcher clan. What do they talk among themselves, we do not know. I bet those second class negro ants champion equality in the city and naturally fail in realizing it. To claim equality with the kidnapping species instead of declaring the parasite as inferior is utter folly that plays into the hands of the parasite and makes the institution of slavery persist for longer than it ought to.

Yes, the doctor might be just one more such kidnapped ant born into foundling houses of the parasite and raised to serve it. Naturally, fanatical fondness for his offspring would be an attribute of the kidnapped, which the kidnappers will have abhorred but tolerated as compensation for the services they extracted from the victims.

When the confession hysteria frequency hit the cannibalistic company, they knew what secret would produce the most violent effect. Somehow, when under compulsion to confess, these people started with things most shocking to someone in the present company.

Probably many more confessions would follow had the doctor not carried a gun in his medicine bag. I would like to hear what confessions the judges on the bench would make that would shock each other. This was not to be. The fear for life had proved stronger than the urge to confess. The judges were gone into recesses of the tunnel network under medieval castles around Frankfurt.

It did not appear that the doctor had recovered from the shock. He remained in the same position. Carlos Rivas also remained lying on the podium with legs dangling from the edge of it but not because of shock. The Latin prisoner was still under the effect of sedatives injected by the doctor in his life before the shock.

The three dead creatures were lying on the floor now because the plastic bowl onto which they had fallen had collapsed and flattened under the weight. An axe had fallen to the ground but the other was lying on the podium near the leg of the sedated Latin, leaving no daubt about the purpose of it.

Flames of the burning cross made the whole cave appear even more bizzare; the flickering caused stationary things appear as if they were moving around like critter creatures.

Our camera had remained behind when those twelve judges ran in panic in as many different directions. Probably the software available to the mini Seiko flying camera could not decide between which of the twelve hooded and cloacked judges to follow. Probably the camera would go after them had they left together. it might be interesting to see where or to whom those creatures run to when they panic.

But I was glad that the camera stayed behind; I was more interested in the immediate future of the two persons left alive in the cave. What would the doctor do next? He still had the loaded gun and he was under shock. he might turn it at himself or he might fire at the Latin lying on the podium.

But the doctor was not about to take action anytime soon. His head was still fallen on his chest and the white hairs still covered his face. He was like in another world, maybe with memories of his little daughter that had fallen victim to foul people he had served for his whole life. 

The doctor had shown no interest afterwards in the little bones that had shocked him first. Clearly, he had no inclinations towards necrophilia. This was a point in favor of the hypothesis that the doctor, like kidnapped ants made slaves, was not of the species he served. Necrophilia is the distinguishing mark of the natives along the Rhine. I know this from their museums, their paintings, their exhibitions. Parts of mutilated bodies are the beginning and the end of fine arts around here. Vacancies in hospital mortuaries attract applicants from all ranks of their society, with thousands of people ready to give up their existing jobs for the privilege of guarding the dead in hospital basements. I know this from personal observation. Psychologist Eric Fromm who has managed to escape from head hunters of the Rhine into America during Hitler era has documented it too, and linked necrophilia and aggression as symptoms of something evil brooding in the Rhine; an alien species landed in the previously uninhabited border region separating the Latins from the Slavs.

The doctor raised his head and listened; someone was calling.

'Is anyone hurt down there? Hey answer me, will you? I heard three gun shots!'

The doctor made no effort to get away. He listened in all directions merely out of habit of responding to a caller. Then he fixed his attention on the lift well through which the voice came again.

'I am coming down!' yelled the intruder.

He might be an assistant to the inn keeper or someone sent from the castle to check on things. There was no knowing if the twelve hooded judges had reached somewhere and given alarm. Considering the panic in which they left, they might still be running in the underground tunnels or hiding in recesses of them. I doubted if these creatures had the courage to go without circumlocution to their superior, the duke and boldly report the mess they had made. Probably their sovereign lord would have to hunt for each one of them and then to interrogate them with the knowhow that is native to these duchies to extract the whole truth of what exactly happened. They might even meet the just punishment they deserve even if for all the wrong reasons.

'I am coming down!' yelled the intruder again and two feet appeared in the elevator shaft.

A strongly built man came sliding down the elevator ropes and landed in the crude elevator cabin which had neither roof nor walls. The elevator was just a metal cage with awooden floor; open on all sides except for the frame made of welded pipes.

'Hello, hello!' said the intruder at the burning cross and walked out of the cage.

The doctor was still sitting and holding the gun. He looked  at the intruder very carefully until the latter, having scanned the scenery, on the ground the three dead man and on the podium the one lying man, turned his eyes to the doctor.

'Hello, hello!' said the intruder to the doctor. if he saw the gun pointing in his direction from its resting place on the medicine bag, the intruder gave no sign of this. He approached the doctor a few steps. The doctor whose permanent smile mask was no more, was  examining the smile on the face of the intruder with sceptism. 

The intruder had a wooden peg in his left hand. he held onto it like a friend in need; a friend to depend on among much treachery. He was a strongly built man with thick and long  black hair and beard. He was like in that famous picture of Che Gueavara. The doctor looked from the intruder to Carlos Rivas lying on the podium as if to make sure this was not him. Indeed, the intruder looked like Carlos Rivas as if they were twins.

'You allow me to introduce myself! That is a good start.' said the intruder and paused for reaction. He was still smiling.

Then, the doctor must have reached a decision as to quality of that smile on the face of the intruder, the doctor sunk his head again on his chest as if he had no more interest in life or universe or anything.

'Old man, you are in a bad shape!' said the intruder as if talking to himself, and then after a brief look at the table and twelve chairs on the podioum, as if he understood the function of this cave, he proceeded in a more formal way.

'I am Bars. Koysuren Bars. Mehmed for friends.'

Whaddaya think, a namesake, I thought with instant pleasure but then checked myself. If the name be real, for, in these duchies of cloaks and daggers, intrigue and cannibals, nothing is what it appears to be.

Bars, the intruder walked to the flattened bowl and examined from a safe distance the three dead creatures around it. 

'Three cockroaches!' he said.

Then he scanned the cave around him and repeated:

'Three cockroaches and two humans in a cave!'

Then he watched the burning cross and repeated:

'Three cockroaches and two humans under a burning cross!'

He admonished the flaming cross with the index finger of his right hand while holding the wood for a wapon in his left hand.

'You, mother of all burning crosses, you!'

He watched the flames for some more and added:

'You mother of all burning crosses along the Mississippi, you!'

He looked at the dead inkeeper and the axe lying near him.

'Cockroach Number One got what he deserved!'

He looked at the dead long man in black nearer to the podium and at the axe he had placed on the podium.

'Cockroach Number Two got what he deserved!'

He looked at the dead short man in black further away from the podium and then looked for a third axe but did not find it.

'Cockroach Number Three probably got more than what he deserved!

The long man in black had been hit through the head and was lying with his mouth in his own blood gathered in the collapsed plastic bowl.

'Nanu, ob es schmeckt, Freiherr von Scheissberg?' he asked simulating the custom among polite society of cockroaches on this side of the Rhine.

Then he looked at the Latin lying on the podium, looked at the legs dangling from the podium, at the two axes and at the flattened plastic bowl on the ground.

'Standard procedure! Interrupted...'

He turned around and examined the doctor once more. The doctor was not moving; his head was into his chest. The gun was in his hand.

'I wonder...'

The intruder looked at the gun carefully and at the three dead cockroaches again as if spotting their wounds, counting them. He had heard three shots and all three were accounted for.

The intruder looked at the twelve chairs on the podium and then his eyes searched for tunnels leading from the cave in all directions and found several. But he showed no inclination to examine the case further in that direction. Instead he walked round the three dead cockroaches to the edge of the podium, studies the face of the Latin lying there, and while examining the features of him, moved a hand over his own hair and then over his own beard. 

The intruder casually looked over the body and satisfied himself to absence of wounds. The man was unconcious surely but not wounded.

The intruded looked at the face some more as if familiar from somewhere. From the mirror, you fool, I thought while watching this scene live on the monitor from the safe distance of the Space Orb.

Then, the intruder turned his shoulder to the podium, pulled the unconscious Latin onto it and moved towards the elevator shaft.

'For you, I know not what to do, brother!' said the intruder to the doctor who was watching the proceedings from the same seated position. The one hand was still holding the medicine bag. the other hand rose slightly and waved imperceptibly with the gun.

The intruder came to the elevator with his load. At this moment, Carlos Rivas revived, opened his eyes and waved back at the sitting doctor:

'A Dios, Hermano!'

The doctor who was raised to know himself as Joseph Mengele Junior waved more strongly with the last of his strength and replied in a voice hardly audible:

'Vaja con Dio, Amigo!'

Intruder Bars moved into the elevator cage and founding a shalter crudely embedded into the side of the shaft, pressed the only botton there. The elevator rose very slowly.

Our mini Seiko camera zoomd on the elevator cage and remained with it. Obviously the flying camera was going with the Intruder. This meant that we would not be able to watch the immediate future of the doctor but still, the camera software had made a wise choice, I agreed. 

I was not familiar with the operation system controlling the monitoring gadgetry of the Space Orb. it was possible tthat the software evaluated a number of parameters and then decided which target the camera should follow; it was also possible that when a target moved  uniquely away from a stage where nothing much else moved, the camera simply followed the moving target. But then, the errand men in black had been sent out of the cave by the chief justice before but our camera had not folowed them. There is no pint in asking the system administrator to explain these things; he had said that he knew not much himself, being a user and not the designer of this system.

The Intruder Mehmed Koysuren Bars walked out of the elevator into the storage room, carrying carlos Rivas on his shoulders, walked out into the hall of the Inn which was empty and then out again to the parking lot.

The van that had brought carolos was still parked in the same place. At some distance from it was another car, a Toyota. There was no one else in the vicinity. The intruder opened a back door of the Toyota and placed carlos there in sitting position. The Latin was awake now and could sit by himself.

Then the Intruder went to a tire lying near the car and put it into the coffer room. He looked around and picked several items left over from changing the tire and put them into the coffer room and shut it. He was very calm and made no undue haste. he took his time, I might say; before stepping into the driver seat, he looked in the direction of the ominous castle with a very thoughtful face. And then, as if reached the decison of his life, he nodded imperceptibly and stepped into the driver seat.

before starting the car, he turned his head halfway towards Carlos in the back seat and explained:

'I stopped here to change a flat tire. When finished, I went in to wash my hands;  only to wash hands, ind you. I know the kind of meat they serve in these places watching all approaches to Frankfurt. I am myself in the restaurant business and I have never yet found out who delivers the flesh to these roadside inns managed by owners who look similar as if twins.'

The intruder turned a little more to take a better look at carlos. then he continued with the tale that had brought him down into the cave:

'Any ways, the place was empty which surprised me because I had seen two blond men leading another with black hair and beard into the place. Though I saw them only very briefly just when I was driving in, I remembered because I had thought the black haired man, which is you, was faimiliar from somewhere.'

He started the car.

'Then I heard the shots and found the elevator shaft. I called but none answered. it would be folly to descend into hell unarmed so I picked a piece of timber from the leg of a chair just in case. The rest, you know!'

The car left the parking place and entered the motorway.

'Got to be in Bonn day after tomorrow,' said the Intruder. ' Must appear in the court for some silly charge. I have a place where you can stay for as long as you like without anyone knowing it.'

He turned again and registered the consenting nod from Carlos Rivas.

'Nothing serious, my court case,' he added. I have lost count of these false charges. More than thirty cases so far. Not easiy to run a restaurant under such harassment, but what can anyone do? This is the game and those are the rules. Lawyers are not complaining though.'

As the car sped on the motorway, the thoughtfulness gave way to a cheerful mood. He was singing.

'The one man band is coming;
Koysuren Bars is coming
Mobilize Westphalien
Your final farce is coming...

Right into the ambush
Right out of the ambush
In the hell of this
Rhineland-Westphalen...'

He stopped singing and listened.

'The one man band is coming;
Koysuren Bars is coming...'

Carlos Rivas on the back sit was not only singing along but also tapping the rhythm with the tips of fingers. He repeated the lines several times; the tone more relaxed with each turn. 

'Sorry I discounted you, brother; I thought you were too exhausted to count among my forces...' said Bars with a feeling of shame lest he had unwittingly caused an injustice to a fellow human being.

Carlos Rivas stretched himself into sleeping posture, looked at the road ahead one more time and closed his eyes. The face was free from fear, free from anxiety, free from torment. It was the renaturalized face of a cute bear freed from a very long captivity in the hands of the practitioners of an infamous trade.

This prodigal son of the Latin Nation was tired.

The Intruder, Koysuren Bars Mehmed, watched the innocence on the face which must amazingly contrast the bizzare conditions of the cave he was found in; and murmured like a brother on the side of a hospital bed.

'Nothing time cannot heal, brother,' he said to himself philosophically and then added in a practical way, 'good food and rest for a fortnight is all you need. I can tell because I am in catering business myself. Did I tell you about my restaurant?'

The prodigal son of the Latin Nation was already asleep. It was a sleep of regeneration, a process of renaturalisation.

The Intruder hummed his song again:

'The two man band is coming;
Koysuren Bars is coming
Mobilize Westphalien
Your final farce is coming...


	END OF BOOK 3

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