The Heritage Paper (34 page)

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Authors: Derek Ciccone

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BOOK: The Heritage Paper
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When Kingston held the memoir, he smiled with relief. He had been more worried than he’d let on.

He handed the document to Sterling—still in the wheelchair—who laid it out on his lap. He read the title out loud, “
My Family Tree—The Last Leaves of Evil
, by Ellen Sarowitz-Peterson.”

He began examining the pages. “This could have ruined everything we worked for,” he said with great relief.

“She was old—she didn’t know any better,” Kingston defended. “I’m just glad we were able to get it back before my enemies could use it against me.”

Sterling flipped to the back of the binder, where he found something taped to the back cover. He pulled off the tape and handed it to Kingston. It was a disc.

“This should be interesting,” Kingston said with an amused look and placed it into a DVD player. Flavia made sure the doors were locked and the room secure.

Ellen appeared on the screen, wearing her Sunday best, along with her usual scowl. Veronica tensed—the last time Ellen made a video they all ended up in the principal’s office.

“Hello, James—this is your grandmother,” Ellen began in her usual curmudgeonly tone.

“I spent the latter part of my life trying to protect my family from the dangers of our heritage. I’d seen too many lives cut short by tragedy. Your father Josef was a victim of it, as was my other son, the half brother you never met, Harry Jr. I tried to protect Maggie’s father and others, but since we’re here today, it means I’ve failed miserably.

“I suspect you are about to be elected President of the United States. And while this is a great achievement, it’s not what defines you. It is what you do with this great responsibility that will. As a man once said—
sooner will a camel pass through a needle’s eye than a great man will be discovered through an election.”

“It’s Hitler,” Zach whispered.

Things had gotten so zany that Veronica’s first impulse was to ask, “Where?”

“No—the quote about the camel’s eye, it’s from
Mein Kampf
. It’s probably why he’s smiling.”

“That or he’s just a sociopath and that’s what they do,” Veronica said back.

“So now begins the last revolution,” Ellen passionately continued onscreen. “In gaining political power the Jew casts off the few cloaks that he still wears. The democratic people’s Jew becomes the blood-Jew and tyrant over peoples. In a few years he tries to exterminate the national intelligentsia and by robbing the peoples of their natural intellectual leadership makes them ripe for the slave’s lot of permanent subjugation

“Around people who offer too violent a resistance to attack from within he weaves a net of enemies, thanks to his international influence, incites them to war, and finally, if necessary plants the flag of revolution on the very battlefields.

“The ignorance of the broad masses about the inner nature of the Jew, the luck of instinct and narrow-mindedness of the upper classes, make people an easy victim for this Jewish campaign of lies.”

Veronica was stunned. “How could this possibly be helping?”

“I have no idea,” Zach whispered back. “But I do know she’s regurgitating Hitler’s words. Those were exact quotes.”

That can’t be good,
Veronica thought with a hard swallow.

“If the Jew is victorious over other people of the world,” Ellen continued with her rant, “his crown will be the funeral wreath of humanity—this planet will, as it did thousands of years ago, move through the ether devoid of men.”

Veronica cursed herself for trusting these people—Ellen … Flavia … evil was in their blood.

“As you know, James, those are the words of a man whose beliefs you have dedicated your life to re-establishing, isn’t that true?”

Kingston nodded his head as if Ellen was in the room with them.

“So if you believe those statements as fact, then
you
will be responsible for this ‘Jewish Campaign of Lies,’ and
you
are responsible for this ‘crown,’ which will be the funeral wreath of humanity. Because
you
, my grandson, are of Jewish blood. You are the great-grandson of Etta Sarowitz.”

Veronica shared a look with Maggie, as if to say
Oma had it all the way
.

“You are a crazy old lady who doesn’t know what she says,” Kingston shouted at the screen.

“You can paint me as crazy if you like,” she continued, as if they were having a real-time conversation. “But every word that was presented to Maggie’s class, was completely accurate. While the Sterlings and others within the Apostles might be using Judaism as a cover for their true identities, my identity has always been true to my blood. I was wrong to keep this from you and your father, along with the rest of the Apostles—only recently did Aligor discover my true heritage. I thought by keeping it from you, I was keeping you safe, but I came to realize how wrong that was.

“And that’s the reason he wanted to remove me from the equation. Because if you found out, then you might question your own beliefs … especially when you find out that the Führer was well aware of my Jewish blood when he took me in and cared for me. That is why he kept me hidden in that bunker in the Alps. He said it was for my safety, which was partly true, but the main reason was that he was worried that if the world found out how he cared for a Jewish girl, he could no longer sell the myth of the Jews as a subhuman race. A myth that fueled his power. A power he needed like oxygen.

“One can detach themselves from large masses of unknown souls, but not from an individual connection. Six million is a statistic, but one person is a tragedy. The Führer treated me with the utmost care and delicacy, but he chose to delude himself about my true heritage. Maybe if he acknowledged it, he would have seen the Jewish people as living, breathing souls, and history would have turned out differently. Nobody will ever know.

“If you don’t believe me, I suggest you ask Aligor about it. He can vouch for what I just told you. In fact, I have it on tape from our last meeting. And while you’re at it, ask him how your father was really killed. The one who was chosen to lead the Apostles by the Führer, despite having the same Jewish blood as his mother.”

Kingston looked at Sterling. He waved dismissively, as if to indicate that Ellen was off her rocker.

She continued, “I knew the Führer as well as anyone, and I know you, James. One of the things you have in common is neither of you carried these vile hatreds until you were young men. You weren’t born with these beliefs. Your father’s murder sparked your anger, just like World War I sparked his. But in the end, it was he, and he alone, who was responsible for what happened. Just like it will be for you, James. The question is whether you take action for the truth, or if you will continue to fall victim to the big lie.”

The screen went blank. The room turned deathly quiet.

Kingston gathered himself. He tried to stand strong and look presidential, but he couldn’t hide the fact that he was shaken by Ellen’s words. He didn’t look at Sterling as he walked to the DVD player and ejected the disc. He causally took it out and broke it in half.

He then began ripping the pages out of the memoir, and feeding them through a shredder.

“No!” Maggie yelled out and began running toward him. Veronica held her by the back of the coat. There was nothing they could do.

Kingston viewed the room, and announced, “Ellen was a great woman who sacrificed for us all. I’d hate for the world to see her in the throes of dementia. She obviously didn’t understand what she was saying.”

Sterling received a call on his cell, breaking the tension. He listened intently, then smiled. “Turn on the television,” he instructed.

Kingston clicked it on just in time to hear the commentator emphatically state, “NBC News is declaring Jim Kingston as the next President of the United States in what is looking like a landslide of epic proportions!”

A loud roar went up in the adjoining room. Kingston moved behind Sterling’s wheelchair and pushed him toward the door.

“So what happens to us?” Veronica blurted.

Kingston shrugged. “I guess it’s up to you. My presidency is about giving power to the people, so you are free to go and live your life as you choose. Spread your lies if you like, nobody will believe you. And as for Maggie and Jamie, they will come to us on their own—they won’t need to be forced—it’s in their blood.”

Chapter 72
 

With Aligor Sterling wheeling beside him, President-Elect Jim Kingston made the first stop on his victory tour. Starlight Roof was located on the eighteenth floor of the Waldorf, where a grand party was being held in his honor.

In the 1930s and 40s, the Rooftop was regarded as the world’s most glamorous nightclub. It epitomized the elite, and its excessive parties were the stuff of legend. At the same time, across the ocean, the Reich had risen to become the ruling elite of Europe, and they ruled with the same decadence and glamour. This party was a sign that what was once great could rise again.

But as Kingston walked into the luxurious rotunda, he felt a threatening cloud hovering over him. Like a thunderstorm appearing on a perfect summer day. This should be a night to celebrate the crowning achievement of the Apostles, but when he looked up at the gilded ceiling he could have sworn he saw that dark cloud of doubt.

The partygoers didn’t share his reservations. Wine was flowing and a band was belting out tunes from the Big Band era. Kingston almost expected to see Sinatra crooning on the stage. He pressed the flesh for over an hour with many of his biggest supporters, and began to regain his bearings. Before leaving, he took the microphone and to overwhelming cheers, announced that tonight marked, “A return of the good old days!” Little did they know how true that statement would be.

As Kingston left the room, he noted the twinkling of the stars through the two-story high windows that peered out on the glittering Manhattan skyline. It was like the heavens were sending their approval. And the feeling of impending doom waned.

Surrounded by his security team, Kingston and Sterling were taken down to the third floor, where they arrived at an ornate, silver corridor that passed under an arched ceiling. His mother, Erika Sterling-Kingston, met him there. Thaddeus. He greeted the still attractive, seventy-four-year-old with a deep hug and a peck on the cheek. She raised him for this day. It was a powerful moment between mother and son, but Kingston couldn’t help feel that the picture was incomplete without his father by her side.

When they broke their embrace, Kingston hooked arms with her and walked her down the corridor. She whispered into his ear her hope that the next time he walked down an aisle it would be at his wedding. She was never a fan of his bachelor life, and felt it was now time to find his First Lady. Marriage and family meant everything to her, although she had never remarried herself after his father was killed.

Onlookers clapped for Kingston, echoing throughout the hallway. A grand piano belted out “Hail to the Chief.” He felt at peace again—the thunderstorm had passed.

The ovations grew louder as they approached the Grand Ballroom, where he’d give his acceptance speech. But before entering, he needed a moment alone with Aligor.

“Yes, Mr. President,” Sterling said with a big grin, liking the sound of the new title.

Kingston didn’t share his jovial mood. There was still much work to do. “I want the children picked up once they leave here and brought back to the house.”

“What about the mother?”

“You are going to need to silence her, and her reporter friend.”

“Don’t you think that will be dangerous, especially after the children were seen at the mansion?”

“I think it will be a love triangle, which will help us solve our Edward Peterson problem. He was in love with his dead brother’s wife, but when she chose Zach Chester, he couldn’t bear it and it led to a murder-suicide.”

Sterling looked like he’d seen a ghost.

“I’m sorry, Aligor, that was insensitive of me. I’d forgotten about your parents.”

“No offense taken, Mr. President. It was a long time ago. What about the children?”

“In the short term, we will put out word that they were guests at the mansion. Maggie invited you to her Heritage Paper project, where she informed you what a big fan she was of mine. So I made her dream come true by allowing her to visit her hero. Her devotion to me is well documented. And make it clear that they were just playing on the lawn, security was trying to stop them because they were worried about their safety. The guns weren’t real. Obviously they didn’t view me as harmful, as they sought me out tonight at the hotel.”

“And in the long term?”

“In the wake of their mother’s death, we will move to adopt the children. Maggie might resist initially, but she’ll come around. Jamie will not be a problem.”

“That would be great PR, but might be complicated. Veronica Peterson’s mother and family members are very much alive, and might seek custody.”

He patted Sterling on the back with a big smile. “We’re the kings of the world, Aligor. We can do anything we want. I’m confident that you’ll figure out how to make it happen.”

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