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.”
Sterling smiled back, looking relieved. “I was concerned that you might buy the nonsense your grandmother was saying on that video.”
“Like I said, she obviously was suffering from a form of dementia.”
“What about Youkelstein? We tracked him to Beth Israel Hospital—he was admitted for a gunshot wound.”
“Let him be—just make sure the bullet can’t be traced back to our men. Nobody will believe the old conspiracy theorist, anyway. He has been screaming about escaped Nazis and the Fourth Reich for decades. He has no credibility, so let’s not be the ones to give him any.”
With business settled, Kingston entered the Grand Ballroom. It was four stories high and surrounded by two tiers of boxes like an Old World opera house. The normal seating capacity was fifteen hundred, but tonight well over two thousand had jammed in to celebrate the election of Jim Kingston.
Sterling wheeled onto the stage and announced into a microphone, “Without further ado, I’d like to introduce to you my nephew, my friend, and my hero—the President of the United States, Jim Kingston!”
Kingston leaped onto the stage, where he was met by Senator Langor. The Vice President-Elect knew nothing of the Apostles, or ever would. He was put on the ticket because they felt his presence would guarantee winning Florida, which most experts thought would be the key swing vote. Although, it turned out to be an unnecessary boulder in a historical landslide.
Kingston and Langor clasped hands and raised them over their heads as balloons began raining down from the ceiling. Their campaign song belted from the speakers—Springsteen’s “The Rising.” Never could lyrics be more appropriate.
When the room settled, Kingston stepped to the microphone. He looked out at the faceless crowd and felt the irony. The Grand Ballroom at the Waldorf was built as a re-creation of the court theater in Versailles. The same city where the treaty was signed in that train car. A document that attempted to destroy Germany forever.
But as he was about to reclaim their rightful spot, and do so in the same manner that it was taken from them—by sabotaging the society from within—he couldn’t shake Ellen’s words.
Chapter 73
Veronica’s lungs felt like they were about to explode when she exited the Waldorf.
Did that just happen?
She gripped Maggie and Jamie’s hands as tightly as possible, while Zach tried to hail a cab. A nightmare on a normal evening, but tonight it was a near impossibility.
A voice shot out through the brisk night, calling her name.
She looked up to see two members of Kingston’s security team heading toward them. She instinctively stepped back.
“President-Elect Kingston instructed us to give you and Mr. Chester a ride to wherever you want to go.”
Veronica wanted no part of any connection to Kingston, even if that meant she died of old age while waiting for the cab on the corner of Park and 49th.
“That’s nice of you to offer, but I must decline,” she said politely.
“We insist,” the one said. The pleasant smile couldn’t hide his devious eyes.
“I said no,” Veronica responded, firmer.
She felt a sharp gust of fear blowing at her face. The crowded city street failed to provide comfort.
Another voice rang out in the night air. This one female.
“The lady said she wasn’t interested.”
Veronica looked to see Flavia gracefully bouncing towards them. The guards stared at her. Veronica wasn’t sure if it was due to her words, or perhaps because all men stare at Flavia.
“We have orders,” one guard said.
“Do you know who I am?”
“Yes, Ms. Conte.”
“Good—now I’m giving you an order to leave the lady alone.”
The guards reluctantly walked away, their black boots rhythmically clicking on the busy sidewalk.
Flavia approached with apology in her eyes. “Veronica—I just want you to know I only did what Ellen asked me to do. I think she believed if Kingston saw the video he might re-think his position. In no way am I working for them.”
Veronica didn’t trust anyone at this point, but she believed that Flavia was telling the truth. “I’m just frustrated—that memoir might have been our last chance to prove what they’ve done, and what they plan to do in the future.”
Veronica felt a tear roll down her cheek. “And I won’t feel that Maggie and Jamie are safe as long as they are in power.”
Flavia looked like she wanted to hug her. Veronica wasn’t going there, but she needed to hug someone. So she crouched down and pulled Maggie and Jamie into her arms.
She looked up at Flavia, who glistened like the Manhattan skyscrapers. It was like she was part of the sparkling skyline. “So what do we do now?”
Flavia’s face turned stony. “You aren’t going to do anything. You have two beautiful children to protect. You will not put yourself in harm’s way—they need their mother. I will handle this myself—I’m done running from the ghosts.”
“What are you planning?”
Flavia’s voice fell to a whisper, making her hard to hear against the backdrop of honking traffic. “Same thing they did. Rise up from within their ranks, while pretending to be someone else. And I have an advantage—I’m royal blood, remember?”
Veronica was still having trouble grasping that Flavia was the president’s half-sister, both fathered by Josef Müller aka Joseph Kingston. The Chosen One.
Zach continued to struggle with his taxi flagging, so Flavia relieved him of his duties. Veronica was surprised a twenty-car pileup didn’t occur. She secured a cab in less than twenty seconds. Veronica just shook her head with envy.
She ushered her children into the back of the vehicle, joining Zach.
Flavia declined the offer to come with them. “You’re driving back to Rhinebeck tonight?” Veronica inquired.
“No, I’m going to visit Ben at the hospital. I’ll pull up a cot, and then head back upstate in the morning,” she said. She then surprised Veronica by giving her that hug. Flavia didn’t seem like the hugger type.
But as she watched Flavia disappear into the crowd, she realized that there was a purpose to the embrace. She pulled out an object that had been placed in her pocket. A key.
Chapter 74
The cab moved west on 49th Street. They had no firm plan as to where to go, but needed to get out of the city as fast as possible, and returning to Zach’s Audi wasn’t the best way to accomplish that.
As they passed Madison Avenue, Veronica noticed Zach sneaking glances in the rear-view mirror. “What is it?” she asked.
“They’re following us,” he spoke softly in her ear.
“Who’s following us?” she whispered back.
“Those guards who offered us the ride—black Hummer, three cars back.”
Veronica wasn’t as subtle. She turned all the way around and noticed the vehicle swerving through cars to stay close. Luckily, their wannabe NASCAR cab driver, Albadejo, was disregarding the ca
ution flag. But he still couldn’t shake the Hummer.
“Oh my god,” Veronica called out.
Not the smartest thing to say—she alerted Maggie and Jamie. She didn’t have that “cool under pressure” switch like their father. Nor was she as savvy. Of course they weren’t going to let them go. They had damaging evidence that could be used against Kingston, memoir or no memoir. Plus, this group already had kidnapped Maggie and Jamie once before. She couldn’t believe she bought anything that came from the mouth of the man telling the biggest lie in the history of the world—Jim Kingston didn’t believe in freewill.
Zach instructed Albadejo to turn right on Fifth Avenue, which he did, passing the glowing Saks Fifth Avenue. They would’ve yelled, “Step on it!” like in the movies, but Albadejo didn’t need any encouragement.
Now Maggie and Jamie were in the act. They positioned themselves backwards on the seat. They were giving constant updates on the Hummer. “They’re getting closer,” Maggie informed.
“This is cool, Mom!” Jamie added.
They kept going up Fifth Avenue, running red lights, leading to horn-honking chaos at every intersection. The presidential security had turned Midtown into gridlock, but Albadejo remained undeterred.
They continued dashing uptown, strategically using the sidewalk when need be, cruising by 56th Street and Trump Tower. As they passed 60th street, Central Park appeared on their left like a dark emerald ocean.
When they hit 64th Street, Veronica thought back to their time living in the city—places she and Carsten went—and she realized sanctuary was right in front of them.
Veronica shouted for Albadejo to stop the cab. He jammed on the brakes right in the middle of the busy avenue. She then tightly latched onto Maggie and Jamie’s hands and practically dragged them as she dashed across the street, narrowly avoiding oncoming vehicles. Zach paid the driver and followed at his own risk.
Chapter 75
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