by Iain King
He couldn’t help smiling at the question. It was probably the softest interview Helen had ever done. ‘No,’ he answered. ‘The country would have survived anyway.’
‘But is the US doomed to decline and fall like ancient Rome?’
‘No. Because the US is very different from Rome – different enough. America is set apart by its values. Rome was built on a culture of violence – of empire and aristocracy. Of people killing each other to get to the top, or for entertainment. America is not like that. Perhaps, if America and the West become as cruel as Rome we deserve the same downfall. But it’s up to everyone to make sure we stay better than that…’
Myles had answered the riddle of Rome. Not the puzzles set by Placidia in her terrorist broadcasts, but the real riddle: how was the world’s greatest empire, a civilisation which had lasted a thousand years, brought down by nomads and barbarians? Myles explained there was no single answer. But the best answers were not about Rome’s enemies, but about Rome itself.
The interview continued for twenty minutes. Myles felt able to talk about it now, and he gave one of his best lectures ever. He showed how modern America was partly like ancient Rome, but also very different. He enthralled viewers across the nation as he explained how the Romans lived and died, and how the United States could avoid the same fate.
And as he talked his individuality came through. People could see what Helen had seen before – that Myles was unique. The things that made him unusual were also the things that made him brilliant.
‘Thank you, Myles.’ Live on TV, she kissed him again. Myles blushed, then took her hand as the interview closed.
Finally, it was over.
Epilogue
Over the coming months, Myles would watch the video of Placidia talking to Dick Roosevelt in the Pantheon several times. He always wondered: did she know her people were already safe? If she did, then why did she meet with Roosevelt? And if not, was her death a tragedy that he – Myles – could alone have stopped, if he’d just run a few seconds faster to reach her?
The question was only answered when Myles was fully recovered and preparing to return to Oxford, to restart his academic work.
Exactly six months after her death, he received an email. The address seemed odd, but he clicked on the link it offered nonetheless.
A video file opened on the computer. The format was the same as the YouTube broadcasts Placidia had sent out while she was alive – the broadcasts which had warned of a plot to bring down America like ancient Rome.
Myles pressed ‘play’, and a picture of Placidia appeared. She was in the Pantheon, and he realised it must have been filmed a minute or two before the main recording, when the meeting with Dick Roosevelt was broadcast live to the web.
Placidia moved back from the camera. She looked nervous, and checked behind her. The sound quality was poor. ‘This is a message for Myles Munro,’ she said. ‘Myles, I don’t expect to survive my next meeting with Dick. I think he’s going to kill me, which is why I’m making this video. Myles, I think the whole US is in danger. Every aspect of American power: its military, its reputation, its finances – unless something is done to stop Roosevelt, America will share the fate of Rome. Even the once-great democratic tradition is threatened – the more people like Dick Roosevelt rise up, the more the country will go down, and states could start to peel away by 2020. Someone had to take a stand. That’s why, when Dick asked Juma and I to pretend to be terrorists, to help Dick become President, I said yes. Not to help him, but to sabotage his plan.’
Myles rubbed his eyes as he watched Placidia. In the video she checked behind her again to make sure Dick hadn’t arrived yet.
‘But, Myles,’ Placidia continued. ‘Please believe me. I never meant harm. I always believed in trying to save as many lives as possible. That’s why I insisted the lead factory in Germany only used calcium from chalk, and why the men in Istanbul never got near the real plague.’
She glanced away from the camera again. ‘You see, Myles. The plot was like this. Dick Roosevelt just wanted there to be Islamic terrorists. But I said we needed smart terrorism. It was me who suggested the threat to “bring America down like ancient Rome”. It was the thing I knew most about, so it gave me control. And it meant I could make sure you were brought in. Myles, I thought you’d decode all the references to Rome and understand. And I hoped it might finally bring us together. I never really gave you a chance. I regret that.’
Placidia looked strained for the first time in the video. Myles guessed it was because of what she was saying, not because she expected Dick to be with her soon. ‘Rome fell because it had too many civil wars,’ she said. ‘These didn’t just kill off its soldiers. They meant it came to be ruled by selfish, dangerous, nasty people – like Roosevelt. And once the Empire had started to decline, its civilisation could never be restored. Like love, once lost, it was lost forever.’
Placidia reacted to a noise behind her. Myles saw the light change in the background: the doors to the Pantheon were opening. Quickly she leant forward and pressed a button. The footage continued, but now it was the public video – the material which the world had seen. The video of Placidia and Dick Roosevelt talking. The image stream of Roosevelt incriminating himself, then shooting Placidia while she prayed.
For several minutes, he wondered about everything Placidia had said. Could their relationship ever have come to something – at university, or in the years before he met Helen?
And was she right, that America could be doomed by a single bad President? The country seemed too strong for that. The United States had become as permanent as his relationship to Helen.
His thoughts drifted back to the present – the video should be evidence in Dick Roosevelt’s trial.
He tried to replay it, but somehow he couldn’t. The file was missing.
Myles scoured his computer and his email, but it no longer seemed to be there. It took him an hour to realise, and finally accept: the message had deleted itself.
Like ancient Rome, Placidia’s last words to him were gone forever.
Letter from Iain
Thank you for reading Last Prophecy of Rome. I really hope you enjoyed the book.
If you did like it, then please write a review and post it online – reader reviews help other people find good books, particularly when you give a story like Last Prophecy of Rome five stars (if you help bring the average above four stars, this book will be recommended to new readers).
Reviews also show your support for books like this one, and some of the ideas within. If you have an opinion on one of the themes in Last Prophecy of Rome, then please put it in your review. I do hope some of the characters in the book – especially Safiq, and Dick and Sam Roosevelt – help people reflect upon current events.
And reviews are fascinating: it has been wonderful to read all your thoughts and reactions to Myles Munro’s other adventure so far, Secrets of the Last Nazi, and I’m eager to see whether you liked this one, too – even if you only write a few words. I’ve found connecting with my readers is both enjoyable and important. It makes the many lonely hours it took to write this story worthwhile, especially when you give the book a generous number of stars.
As for Myles Munro, he has more adventures ahead. As well as Secrets of the Last Nazi, there will be another book starring Myles Munro – as soon as I finish writing it. If you’d like to keep up-to-date with all my latest releases, just sign up here:
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So thank you again for your support. Until next time,
Iain
@iainbking
iainbking
www.iainbking.com
Also by Iain King
Fiction
Secrets of the Last Nazi
Non-Fiction
How to Make Good Decisions and Be Right All The Time
Peace at Any Price
About the Author
Iain King CBE FRSA has worked in ten conflicts and warzones, including Iraq, South Su
dan, and Afghanistan – where he served alongside both of the battalion commanders who became Britain’s most senior casualties of the war, and in more frontline bases than any other civilian. Parts of this book were written in Benghazi, Libya, where he coordinated international civilian support during part of the 2011 war. In 2013, he became one of the youngest people to be made a Commander of the British Empire.
Iain King is already the author of two successful non-fiction books: an acclaimed chronicle of Kosovo after the 1999 war, and a jargon-free introduction to moral philosophy which set out a new explanation of ethics. The Myles Munro books – Secrets of the Last Nazi and Last Prophecy of Rome – are his first works of fiction.
@iainbking
iainbking
www.iainbking.com
Secrets of the Last Nazi
READ HERE!
Secrets of the Last Nazi is as controversial as it is compelling. A heart-stopping, action-packed and scarily plausible adventure which will captivate fans of Dan Brown, Scott Mariani and Clive Cussler.
THE GREATEST DISCOVERY OF THE 20TH CENTURY.
KEPT SECRET.
UNTIL NOW.
Berlin, 2015 – a well-connected SS Commander is found dead, having protected the last secret of the Nazi empire for seventy years. A discovery by Nazi Scientists so potent it could change the balance of world power – forever.
Led by misfit military historian Myles Munro, an international team begin to piece together the complex puzzle left by SS Captain Werner Stolz. As their hunt across Europe gathers pace, the brutal killing of one of the group signals that they are not the only ones chasing the answer.
Plunged into a world of international espionage, Myles only has his intellect and instincts to keep him alive. As the team edge closer to an explosive truth, it becomes clear to him that there is a traitor amongst them.
Who can Myles trust? And can he unravel the clues of the past in time to save the future?
‘This is one hell of an action packed thriller, if you enjoy Dan Brown then there is no way you won’t enjoy this…one hell of an unputdownable read!’ Crime Book Club
‘It had me turning the pages with an ever increasing speed so desperate was I to find the ‘secret’…a must read for any thriller fans.’ A Book Lover’s Blog
BUY NOW!
Read an excerpt of Secrets of the Last Nazi:
Imperial War Museum, London, United Kingdom
Myles didn’t turn his head to see the mock-up of the trenches – complete with duck-boards, theatrical mud and artificial smells. The vintage machine guns, both German and British, which had caused so much slaughter in the Great War, didn’t register with him at all. He even ignored the Spitfire hanging above him, the old German Jagdpanther tank, and the V1 and V2 ‘Wonderweapons’ used by Hitler in his desperate last months.
That was all history. An outdated vision of war. Misleading, even. War wasn’t like that, not any more, as he told his students in some of Oxford University’s best attended lectures.
Myles knew. He’d been there.
Even the Cold War had been distorted. The superpower confrontation between the United States and the Soviet Union wasn’t what most people said it was. Myles walked right past the big photo-posters showing scenes from 1989, when the Berlin Wall disintegrated in the bright glare of TV lights. Frozen in time, some faces were celebrating, while East German police stood around, not believing the impossible had come true.
The only scene he couldn’t ignore was the most sinister: a faded photograph, blown-up into a large display, which showed a bureaucrat in front of a queue of Jewish refugees. The man was sitting at a table, registering details from the families as they offloaded from the cattle trucks. The bureaucrat and his paperwork were in control. The refugees clutched their suitcases and precious possessions, leaning forward to speak to the man at the desk, trying to help him with information. The poor men and women were oblivious that they had only minutes left to live.
Myles shook his head in disgust, cursing the bureaucrats…
He walked on. He had not come here to browse, but to help Frank, his old university friend of almost twenty years.
Myles held the glass door open with his foot as he heaved the last cardboard box inside. ‘When do the public arrive?’
‘Ten,’ replied Frank. ‘We’ve still got time.’
Myles nodded, as he continued through the main entrance area. ‘Downstairs with the rest?’
‘Yes – thanks. I’ll come with you.’
With Frank limping behind him, Myles led the way down the metallic stairs, careful to duck his head under the beam.
The museum’s walkways had been designed for children, not tall university lecturers. Frank pointed to a pile of other possessions, and Myles placed the box beside them.
‘Cheers, Myles,’ said Frank, tapping the box with his walking stick. ‘That’s the last one.’
Together they stared at the cardboard dump. Half a lifetime: just three boxes.
‘Really, that’s all you’ve got?’
‘It’s all I could salvage before it sank - but on the bright side, if I’d been asleep when my houseboat started leaking, I might have drowned!’ Frank tried to laugh, but the chuckles came out flat.
‘You sure the museum won’t mind you using their space, Frank?’ Myles asked.
Frank held his stick while he pushed his glasses back into place. ‘I hope not – I am the curator. And if they do sack me, I’ll have to ask you for advice…’ Then the curator’s face reacted, as he had another thought. ‘In fact, I think…’ He started to limp along the underground corridor, looking up at the small cards which explained what each storage unit contained. He stopped opposite a tall cabinet labelled Terrorism – UK, then climbed on a small stool to retrieve a box file. He called back to Myles. ‘We’ve still got it somewhere …’
Myles’ fingers rubbed his forehead. He didn’t want it. ‘It’s OK, Frank. I’ve seen it before.’
But Frank had already pulled out the file. He hobbled back down the ladder, and unfolded the tabloid as he returned to Myles. The headline still screamed at him, all those years later.
Myles Munro: Misfit Oxford Military Lecturer is Runaway Terrorist
Frank was grinning. ‘You see – we still have all sorts of war records!’ He paused with a half-smile, realising he’d just told an unfunny joke. Then he folded the newspaper back up and patted Myles on the back, realising he needed to change the subject. ‘You did well to recover. Very impressive.’
Myles didn’t respond. ‘Impressive’ didn’t matter to him.
Frank nudged him. ‘Come on – how’s it all going?’
Myles tipped his head to one side. ‘Predictable, sometimes.’
‘Predictable bad or predictable good?
Myles paused to frame his thoughts, tried to explain. ‘Most people have very set ideas. Military history just means Hitler to most of them. Even the open-minded ones aren’t open to anything too challenging.’
‘So you’re looking for something else, Myles?’
‘Maybe,’ accepted Myles. ‘Not looking very hard though…’
Myles was distracted by the large vaults looming above them both. ‘So what’s the Imperial War Museum planning next?’ He could see his old friend become enthused.
‘My new exhibition: War and the Natural World.’
Myles raised his eyebrows. ‘Interesting…’
‘It’s joint with the Science Museum – you know, for kids,’ explained Frank. ‘We’re trying to show how natural events have a big impact on war.’ Frank hobbled around, guiding Myles towards a half-finished display called World War Two and the Moon. Then he gave Myles a handout to read.
Myles was impressed. ‘Looks like fun.’
‘Yes – and the displays go right back to Alexander the Great. The eclipse just before his greatest battle was an omen that the Empire of Persia would be defeated – and it was!’
Myles smiled, only half buying it. He let Frank continue.
‘And it wasn’t just ancient times,’ lectured Frank. ‘The Crusades, the Korean War – even World War One began with an eclipse, too. Did you know that?’
‘No, I didn’t.’
‘That’s right – in August 1914, on the day that German and British troops first clashed. And the centre of the eclipse was exactly over where the first big battle took place. It was probably the most important battle of the whole war.’ Frank lifted his stick towards a map of Europe.
‘Battle of Tannenberg?’
‘Correct – and World War Three started with an eclipse, as well.’
Now Myles knew he was being ribbed. ‘We haven’t had World War Three.’
Frank chuckled. ‘No – but we almost did. Remember 1999, when the NATO commander ordered his troops to take Kosovo’s main airport - the one held by the Russians? The attack was only stopped when a subordinate refused to obey. He “Didn’t want to start World War Three”, he said. Well, I discovered the centre of the big eclipse in the summer of 1999 was just a few miles from... wait for it… Kosovo!’
Myles looked sideways at his friend, wondering whether Frank was taking the eclipses too seriously. Frank hadn’t noticed – he was too absorbed.
‘And there was also a very local solar eclipse, exactly over Iceland in October 1986, when Reagan and Gorbachev held their big summit there. Some people say it was the summit which ended the Cold War. Did you know that?’
Myles didn’t answer, as he realised his old friend had become even more eccentric with the passing years. Trying to find sense in the movement of planetary bodies was not a good sign.
