“I saw you leaving from your visit to Eva Braun’s luxury cell, very much on your feet. And she only had one visitor in the log last night, who happened to sign in under the name Otto. It’s a name that would be hard to trace, but one I’m quite familiar with.”
Aligor didn’t flinch. He just smiled. “And they say I’m the great spy.”
Youkelstein wasn’t as good at keeping his emotions in check. He always wore his fiery passion on his sleeve, and seeing his onetime kindred spirit here—up close—he felt a fire burn in the back of his throat. “I don’t understand. You were there with me at Terezin! I saw you beaten by the Nazis until you spit up blood.”
“I was in so many places and called so many names. I was once Petey O’Neill from Ireland, and then of Brooklyn. I was Agent Peter Jansen in the British SIS. And I’ve been known as Aligor Sterling since 1944.”
Youkelstein would have thrown up, but he was certain he had no insides left.
“I won’t rehash the story of the brilliant escape-pod designed by the Führer, codenamed Apostles. I’m sure you’ve gotten your fill of that the last few days. And your instincts were correct to believe in Ellen.”
Aligor wheeled into a large office and the door shut behind them. He took a seat behind a large mahogany desk.
Youkelstein sat across from him. He looked right through his old friend, and out a large window behind the desk. It displayed a great view of the enormous front lawn, which led to the sturdy gates. Behind those gates was an unsuspecting world they were preying on.
“I was suicidal after Esther’s murder and you saved me. You healed my soul.”
Aligor smiled. “I saved your life in much more tangible ways than that, Ben. You see, my boss was the Reichsführer-SS Himmler. And as usual, he was only concerned with saving his own ass. So for PR purposes he worked a deal with Switzerland to release a number of Jews from concentration camps in December of 1944. Of course, he also got a nice sum in one of his Swiss bank accounts for his efforts. Himmler never did anything for free—even save himself. You weren’t originally on that list, Ben, but I made sure you ended up being released.”
Youkelstein wasn’t feeling very grateful. “So everything has been a lie?”
“It became quite obvious that the war would end badly for Germany. So we were forced to put the Apostle plan into motion, and the Führer honored me by offering me a large role in launching the operation. My American cover was that of a young Jewish doctor from a wealthy family in Prague, who had been incarcerated by the Nazis. I’ve always been a firm believer in research—so I did time at Terezin preparing for my upcoming role.”
Youkelstein wanted to stab him in his sardonic smile. Kill him in cold blood, just like the Nazis did to Esther. But it wouldn’t help. Aligor was just a piece of the machine, and he had to stop the machine from rolling uncontrollably down the hill.
The room began to spin. The book-cased walls were whizzing by like he was looking out the window of a moving subway car. But it stopped just as quickly. Something had caught Youkelstein’s eye, and the world froze. Like a hypnotic sleepwalker, he struggled to rise to his feet and shuffled to the large painting that hung on the sidewall of the office.
Aligor noticed the source of his attention, and glowingly stated, “It’s the 1959 wedding of my ‘sister’ Erika and Joseph Kingston.”
And to show off their macabre humor, the wedding photo was shot to the exact look of Da Vinci’s painting of The Last Supper.
“It was the last time all of the original Apostles were together,” Aligor said with a touch of nostalgia in his voice. “The only ones not present were that swine, Martin Bormann, and sadly, the Führer himself. It felt a little empty without him there.”
Youkelstein’s nose was now practically touching the photo, reviewing each person with diligence.
“All the way on the left,” Aligor pointed from his seated position, “is our photographer, Rose Shepherd.”
“Eva Braun,” Youkelstein mumbled.
“Next to her is our head of security, Gus Becker, a police officer from Rhinebeck. Even in the United States there was a lot of threats directed at a wealthy Jewish family like ours, and Gus did a great job of keeping the event safe.”
“How sad that Heinrich Müller was forced to do the grunt work at his own son’s wedding.”
“He was very proud of Josef, as were the groom’s parents—the Kingstons. A blue-collar family from here in Long Island. Frank was a fisherman, while the groom’s mother, Mary Kingston, was a brilliant pilot and intelligence agent who worked under me. She flew Hess and Josef to safety out of Germany years earlier. She was a vital member of the group, and it’s sad that she didn’t live to see this day.”
Youkelstein remained fixated on Frank Kingston. It was Rudolph Hess.
“I must say, Ben, that your analysis in your book that declared the prisoner in Spandau a fraud, was right on the money. I was glad I pulled the strings to get you in there to examine him. The more conspiratorial you became, the more it hurt the credibility of your arguments, even if you did have evidence on your side.”
Youkelstein always thought it was fishy that the prisoner refused to see his wife and son until twenty-five years after his imprisonment, but was willing to be examined by a forensic doctor for a book. He felt sick, realizing that those he hunted had mocked him.
“It was the easiest analysis I ever did. Apart from the fact that the flight plans, auxiliary tanks, and maps of the route didn’t add up, Hess had received a rifle wound to the lung in World War I that was so severe that he spent a month in the hospital, yet the prisoner in Spandau had no scar on his chest. And perhaps the most damning evidence of all, was that many of Hess’ fellow Nazis called out this stand-in as a fraud at the Nuremberg Trials. There is no doubt in my mind that it was an imposter—but I can’t figure out why this man was willing to sacrifice his life for a lie.”
“When he agreed to parachute into Scotland on May 10, 1941, pretending to be Hess, I don’t believe he understood the long term ramifications. But he knew if he chose to talk, Himmler would be able to get to his family. They were all afraid of Himmler and his sippenhaft.”
Youkelstein’s focus trailed back toward the center of the wedding table, zeroing in on the man pretending to be Aligor’s father. When he pulled away the layers, Youkelstein felt like he had been set on fire. He couldn’t believe it.
Aligor wheeled beside him, inches from the photo. “And of course you remember my father Jacob Sterling. I’ve never seen him look so proud as he did that day. But I guess it’s normal for a father to feel that way the day he gives away his daughter.”
Youkelstein peered at the man in the photo. He wore horn-rimmed glasses and looked different without his Charlie Chaplin mustache. He’d seen Jacob Sterling thousands of times—his picture still hung on the walls throughout Sterling Publishing—he’d even broken bread with him in his home. But he never looked at him like this. In this new light, the forensic surgeon in him noticed possible plastic surgery, but it was undeniably him.
“I sat right next to him when you invited me to spend the holidays when I first came to the States. I can’t believe I celebrated the holiest of days with the devil himself!”
Himmler.
Chapter 63
Youkelstein continued to stare at the Nazi Last Supper in disbelief. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the pad in which he had scribbled down the Apostle names during yesterday’s trip to Rhinebeck. He mentally filled them in. He now had a complete list from Peter to Thaddeus.
“I must disagree with you on Himmler, Ben, calling him the devil would be insulting to Satan himself. We never wanted him or Bormann to be involved, but he always had the Führer on his marionette string.
“He was a brilliant planner and economist, and while it pains me to admit it, the Apostles never would’ve survived to see this day if he wasn’t at the forefront of our formative years. Our first step was to build a wealth worthy of a great empire. Nobody wa
s better skilled at these tasks than Himmler.
“He also knew the best way to engage the enemy was to become the enemy. And by posing as Jacob Sterling, he became a beacon of the Jewish community.”
“Why did you bring me into this? Nothing you did was without calculation.”
“It was like a miracle when I ran into you at the Eichman trial. And certainly not planned. All the Jews there were so bloodthirsty, but you even more than most. I realized if I hunted down these vilified Nazis, then the Apostles’ infiltration into the enemy would be complete.”
“You used me.”
“I gave you a platform for your revenge and you bit into it like a slobbering shark! And often we were on the same team. For instance, we both wanted Bormann dead.”
“He was about to talk before you killed him. He had no idea he was speaking to an Apostle—he never knew the true identity of Otto, only a select few were privy to it. I thought your rage overtook you, but killing him was about revenge … because he murdered your mentor.”
“If not for the Führer, Bormann’s own men would’ve killed him ten times over. He sent more people to death then imaginable, and whored himself to whoever was the most powerful man in the room. And yes, he did betray the Führer by joining forces with Himmler, and I vowed to get justice.”
“You were surprised Himmler had devious plans? Killing Hitler might be his one redeeming quality.”
Aligor glared at him—he’d hit a nerve. “Himmler’s ego wouldn’t allow him to play second fiddle. His plans were so grandiose and delusional that he actually sought a meeting with Joe Kennedy in early 1960, seeking to be his son’s choice for Supreme Court Justice if he won the presidency. Jacob Sterling on the US Supreme Court, can you imagine it, Ben?”
Youkelstein shuddered with thoughts of the damage that Himmler could have caused from that powerful seat. But also saw how his craving for the spotlight had threatened the secrecy of the Apostles.
“When he was told there were no openings, he created one. In 1962, Supreme Court Justice Felix Frankfurter was forced to retire from the court after suffering a sudden stroke, but President Kennedy nominated Arthur Joseph Goldberg to fill the Jew seat vacated by Frankfurter. So Himmler declared war on the President and his family. He was clearly out of control at this point and putting the group at risk. And when we discovered that he’d murdered such a great leader, we had to act.”
“You are saying Himmler was responsible for the Kennedy assassination?”
“I said nothing of the sort! The great leader I speak of is the Führer. To even compare his legacy to a lightweight like John Kennedy is blasphemy! And we both know the communists were behind that day in Dallas, Ben.”
“So tell me how you killed the devil. After all the help I’ve provided you over the years, I think I deserve one last joy before my death.”
“I will defer to the US Coast Guard on the official cause of Jacob Sterling’s death, which they declared an accidental drowning,” he said with a smirk.
“With all the time you spent around Himmler, I see you picked up his opportunistic traits. When he went overboard, it boosted you into a position of power.”
“I always preferred to work behind the scenes, but with Jacob’s death, and the age and health issues of the others, I was forced to take on a leadership position. And I thought it would just be temporary, until Josef was ready to take his rightful place.”
“But the chosen one didn’t turn out as planned.”
“That would be an understatement—and it set us back a generation. Unfortunately, he became Americanized—the drugs, the women, and his overall reckless behavior. We all believed, or at least hoped, that marriage, along with the responsibility of his own child, would set him on the right path. But the decline continued, culminating with his affair with that CIA operative from his father’s case, which resulted in another member of the bloodline.”
“Flavia. Daughter of Josef and Olivia Conte.”
“And thanks to Josef’s loose lips—often fueled by alcohol—Olivia learned too much about our operation. And it was just a matter of time before she acted on what she learned. It was a messy situation. Eliminating a CIA member was a great risk, but we felt we had no other choice.”
“Did Ellen know you had her son killed?”
Aligor’s eyes shifted. Youkelstein could tell he wanted to avoid that issue. “While it was very clear that Josef would not live up to expectation, we found hope in his son. But we worried that Josef would drag Jim down with him, and we couldn’t afford that. He was our final chance.”
“I think ‘final solution’ would be a more appropriate term. By killing his father in front of him, and in doing so, painting the Jews as his killer … you created a monster! Or more accurately, re-created one.”
“That’s humorous coming from the man who believes in nature over nurture. You know as well as I do that Jim Kingston is a product of the bloodline. All I did was clear the path for him to accept his destiny.”
Aligor stood and walked to the window. He stared through the thick bulletproof glass out at the energized crowd that had gathered just beyond the gates of the Kingston Estate. He cleared his throat and said, “And destiny has arrived, Ben.”
Chapter 64
“So what is Kingston planning to do when he gets in office—nuke Israel?”
Aligor turned back toward him, looking mortified by such an accusation. “Of course not! You are a student of history, Ben, so you know that revolutions are not won with guns—they’re won with the hearts and minds.”
“The American people will see through your lies,” Youkelstein shot back.
But when he glanced at the zealous crowds beyond the gates, he knew his response was laughable.
Aligor followed Youkelstein’s gaze out the window. “We’re just leading them where they want to go. Any poll will tell you the last thing they want is war—if Jim embraced that position the election wouldn’t even be in doubt. But look at the people, Ben—the revolution has already been sparked!”
Youkelstein knew only a fool of the highest order could doubt the energy and passion he was watching from Kingston’s supporters. And he was aware that Hitler didn’t take power in Germany with tanks and bullets. Although, contrary to popular myth, he never received more than 37% of the vote in the 1932 elections. And he used underhanded tactics, such as threats of a military coup, to gain the position of Chancellor, which he used to vault himself to power in 1933. But by the looks of things, Kingston would need no such tactics.
Youkelstein also was aware that the Apostles would leave nothing to chance. And when Sterling boasted about the details of his “billion dollar bet” made on the election, he knew nothing could stop a Kingston landslide victory.
“So how were you able to spark your so called revolution?” Youkelstein took the bait.
Aligor returned to his wheelchair, eager to discuss. “We waited and watched. We had the ups and downs of any American family—sad deaths followed by happy births. And I won’t kid you, when Josef and Harry Jr., both direct links to the lineage, failed tragically, it placed doubt in our minds. But Jim’s rise returned our hope.”
Youkelstein clenched his arthritic hands in anger.
“But it would take more than hope. As the 1980s came to a close, and the Berlin Wall fell, marking the end of the Cold War, I began to wonder if our time had passed. Müller and Hess had both died by that point, and Ellen was never the same after she lost her children. I looked to history, and realized that the great leaders understood how one small spark could turn into a blazing inferno. America understood this, which is why they withheld information about the Pearl Harbor attacks to wake the people from their slumber back in ’41.”
“You accuse me of creating elaborate stories to push my agenda, but I could never equal your imagination!”
“You really still doubt me, Ben? British intelligence agent, Peter Jansen, one of my many aliases, was the one who delivered them the news of the imminent at
tack a month prior. But my real interests lay with Germany, whose main objective was to keep the US out of the war. The Führer knew that the US could tip the balance, and he was right. I don’t know if my information ever reached FDR, and doubt that it did, but someone in the hierarchy of government chose to sit on it.”
“I’m not sure I understand what Pearl Harbor has to do with what you’re attempting to achieve today.”
“Because Pearl Harbor taught me that the only way to move Americans to action was an attack on their homeland. Just like the events of September 11, 2001.”
Aligor savored the stunned look on Youkelstein’s face. “Like I said, Ben, I’m a student of history. And like you, I believe in nature over nurture. There is a reason the US never learned from their past mistakes. For better or worse, they are genetically programmed to act in a certain way. So it was no surprise they reacted like a preoccupied grizzly bear when attacked, swatting at flies around the world, while the true enemy rose from within their own borders. And unbeknownst to them, a revolution had been sparked.”
As Youkelstein scrambled to reconstruct the puzzle in his mind, Aligor continued, “Those who learn from history end up as the ruling class—those who don’t, perish. The Führer learned this lesson the hard way. He should have absorbed the lesson of Napoleon’s invasion of Russia, but he followed his passion right into the deadly Russian winter. He chose to listen to his heart instead of his brain … very similar to yourself, Ben.”
“I am nothing like that monster!”
“The Jews were the enemy of Germany, just like they are for America. And the people will cheer as President Kingston tears down the symbol of this embedded enemy.”
“What symbol is this—another cross labeled in code?”
“No, this will be a living symbol … Aligor Sterling.”
“You?”
“The renowned Jewish leader will come clean about his actions in the planning and plotting of 9/11. And I have the evidence to prove it. An investigation will follow, which will reveal to the world that Israel not only had knowledge of the attack being imminent, but they withheld it, hoping to spark the US into helping to further their agenda in the Middle East and taking on Israel’s enemies.”
The Heritage Paper Page 22
