Authors: Daniel Syverson
"Detective? You have a call, line 2."
"Detective Olson. Can I help you?"
"Detective, this is Officer Roberts up in
Roscoe. I have some information you might find interesting. Got a minute?"
* * *
From there, the States Attorney's office was
contacted, then, since it was such a high profile case, the Illinois Attorney
General was called. He contacted Wisconsin's Attorney General, who then called
down to the local States Attorney who would make direct contact.
Except that somewhere in the middle, the German
Consulate contacted U.S. Embassy, who in turn contacted Wisconsin's Attorney
General. And with all this contact up and down, it was inevitable that others
would also find out.
* * *
"
Resurrected Man Heads to Tehran"
- USA Today
"
German Rises from Dead, Goes to Iran"
- Chicago Tribune
"US State Dept Hiding Resurrection?"
- New York Times
"
Superman? Jesus II? Who is Hans?"
- The Globe
"New Jesus Secret Love Child of Mother
Theresa
" - National Enquirer
* * *
Those and a hundred more headlines led not only
the network broadcasts, but every newspaper across the country. Every paper
from USA Today to The National Enquirer had their own take. The secret was out.
By early the next morning, it was a rare
individual that had not heard about Hans Richter. Millions now knew of Richter,
though only a handful ever knew the information for one of the most sensational
stories in history had been reported by a cop in the little town of Roscoe, IL,
and an investigator from the Vatican while having pancakes at Jessica's.
* * *
Within a day, that's all people were talking
about. People began gathering in churches, praying for the Second Coming. Others
gathered at familiar watering holes, the story being just one more topic
discussed over a beer. Still, if they looked up to the monitors playing over
the bar, and turned up the volume, they, too, would be inundated by stories of
either the new Jesus, a brand new prophet, or perhaps one of the successes of
the Aryan breeding by Hitler. The theories began reaching further and further.
The internet began to buzz with searches on
anything having to do with the occult, with the Second Coming, with the Aryan
race, and more. Conspiracy theorists had fresh material, and due to the fact
that the person was German, the U.S. State Department was involved, and now,
Iran, they felt their concerns were more than justified.
* * *
Maybe they were right.
"T
hat's another one! And this one is from one of their own
investigators. I can't believe he hasn't put it together yet, although he's
getting close. We've got to move! This waiting is insane. It's too big a
chance. We did it before, and we can do it again."
The colonel listened patiently as the captain
went through the diatribe. Again. Or more accurately, still. He had a point; in
fact, the colonel agreed, but things just weren't done that way.
In time, the captain would learn patience. Or
was it just giving up? Nodding absently to the captain, Colonel Joachim
wondered about himself. Had he just settled? Go along to get along? Become more
politician than warrior? Was he more mature? More cautious?
Or just tired?
He didn't like the way this train of thought was
going. He abruptly turned back to his computer, cutting off his self-analysis
and the captain's soliloquy in one quick turn. He had nothing official to go
on, no basis in fact, but there was no question that a variety of people had
reported almost identical dreams.
Certain very disturbing items in the dreams had
some important people very concerned. And him too. And the captain. And here we
go again...
The issue was that damned symbol and the
constant reference to mushrooms. There was no question the man they had been
watching for quite some time had not only access to the nuclear program, no
question he had the inclination to use them, but he just didn't have the
political power, the official position, to really make use of it. Still, he had
earned constant, and tight, surveillance.
The difference was that symbol. When it was sent
out to his contacts, it went here, as well. Obviously, he was about to make his
move. Israel couldn't execute a preemptive strike as before, though. World
opinion was just too shaky. They were walking a very tight line with many, and
had little support in the U.S., and less in Europe. A unilateral move by them
would leave them completely isolated, and virtually helpless.
Their only recourse would be atomic, and once
that was used, he didn't even want to consider the aftermath. For either Israel
or the rest of the world.
Any action was supposed to be cleared in advance
by the U.S., which Joachim, like others, found insulting. Israel would provide
most of the intel, the bases, the planes, the on-site spotting personnel. It
was Israel at risk of extinction in a matter of minutes by conventional forces,
or in a matter of seconds in an all-out nuclear attack. Yet,
they,
the
U.S., were supposed to clear any military contacts with any country (except
minor skirmishes with the Palestinians, of course) with them.
Which is why he was sitting at this desk, and
the captain at his. In addition to the intelligence hook ups, he had another
phone on his desk. This one should have been a direct connection to his country's
first strike forces, the immediate response forces that could be airborne in
minutes. The units that had kept this tiny country afloat against enemies that
dwarfed them. But, no, this phone went to the Americans. To the AWACS that
circled far above, providing over watch support. A single plane with the capability
to provide air traffic control support for the entire region. It was they who
would detect planes or missiles in the air, and they who would direct, or at
least coordinate, an air strike by the Israelis. Not by themselves, of course.
He understood the resentment and frustration of
the captain.
No, he decided. He had not gone soft. He had not
gone along to get along. Perhaps he had adopted some of the methods of the
politicians, but down inside, staying in the background like the rest of the
country's ready reserve forces, he was ready, and would do what was necessary,
regardless of the Americans.
He felt a little better now.
But back to the immediate problem. That damn
3
symbol. It kept popping up. And so quickly. He hadn't even
seen
the
symbol since some math classes years ago. Now, suddenly, in the past 24 hours,
he had all these reports of the dreams, not only by his own countrymen, but
others, such as that investigator from the Vatican. How do you explain them? It
was just a symbol. Common enough in math, but for the everyman?
Not a particularly religious man, he was still
struck by the occurrences. If not some type of supernatural, God-like
intervention, it would have to be some incredible psychic phenomenon connecting
these people. Or the obvious fraud. But that was ruled out immediately. Too
broad, too widespread, with no way to connect anyone involved.
Something
was happening. And then, the
intelligence services reported a flurry of activity, all involving this same
new symbol, a symbol that had never come up before in this context.
He had proposed, facetiously, in the last
briefing with his superiors, along with the American representative and some of
the other intel people, that perhaps this was a plot by mathematicians worldwide,
perhaps joined by those accountants, always living on the edge, to take over
the world.
A few of them snickered.
Others gave him dirty looks, unamused.
And a few, perhaps most frighteningly, looked
confused, not understanding the joke.
That
was scary.
He decided not to contribute any more humor to
the proceedings. Probably a wise idea.
And just now, this Hans Richter stuff. Related? Who knew. Too
bizarre. But the timing - things were getting just a little spooky. Too many
odd things, coincidental things, all happening at once. It had taken over the
entire news cycle.
All day, nothing but stories related to it.
Almost no factual information, although more was creeping in. What was scary
was the response of so many people.
He had seen groups of people in the streets
demanding that Washington track him down, that they needed to make contact with
the "alien" civilization he represented, helping provide food and
peace throughout the world.
Across the street from them was another group,
demanding the same thing -
find Hans Richter!
- because he must
represent a powerful alien civilization, and must be destroyed before they
destroyed us.
Then the groups on the religious shows declaring
him the Antichrist. And on other shows declaring him the new Messiah. Doctors
wanted to know how he came back, to study and examine him, to perhaps help
other people heal from severe trauma. Generals wanted to know how he came back,
to make sure enemy combatants
didn't.
He hadn't heard what Jerry Springer had to say
yet.
He simply could not believe how hungry the
people out there were to believe in
something
.
Anything.
He knew the politicians would soon be posturing
to cash in, as were some of the smarter entrepreneurs.
No question about it. He was worried. He wasn't
sure what he should be worried about most, or first, but he was worried. People
in the streets, the symbol popping up everywhere, and now even in
communications throughout a web of connections in Iran.
The common denominator with the symbol seemed to
be a man named Zarin. And he was connected, and the symbol was connected
(through communication ties), to Iran's nuclear forces. Not officially, not
through the government channels, but connected none the less.
That
was
why they were all losing sleep. Mushrooms on the bagels might be amusing in a
dream, but dozens of
reported
dreams of nuking Israel was a whole 'nother
story. Dozens
reported
. How many others had gone unreported?
Who would actually call in a dream?
You might tell a spouse, or a friend, about an
odd dream. But call it in? Who would do that? It would have to be some dream to
do that. He wondered why he hadn't had one like that. Or the captain. Or anyone
in that meeting. Or had they? Would they have told someone of a bad dream, or
dismissed it early on, or been too embarrassed to tell someone?
They were being careful. Their people in Tehran
were watching. The agencies were watching. And even the Americans, reluctantly,
were watching. He wondered if God was watching, too.
* * *
Perhaps God should have been. Or maybe He was. Maybe
He was just waiting to see what played out.
He turned to his circle of leaders. "This
could be the last item we needed to move forward. In a few hours, I'll be
meeting with Richter. If all goes as I expect, the waiting is over. It's not a
matter of
if
anymore, just when, and even there, the when is how soon. We
are so close. I have just now received confirmation - he held up the folded
document - of our destiny."
He unfolded it, and held it up. "The names
on this roster - look closely. Who has signed off on it?"
The closest were able to see the signatures, and
their eyes grew wide. They read the prophecy.
"Was it not as I have always said? And now,
this prophet, appearing from nowhere, and again, disappearing, with documents
signed over hundreds of years. Could it be clearer? Our destiny more defined?
They sat back, nodding in agreement, looking at
each other, then back at him with a new respect, as if seeing him for the first
time. "This is my father, and his father before him. Truly I tell you this
has been our destiny, foreordained years ago."
Ever the showman, he paused for dramatic effect,
looking at the document again, as if rereading it. He set it down slowly,
almost reverentially, on the table. He leaned forward onto the table with both
arms, slowly turning his gaze to each in turn.
"Now, go, and complete the final
preparations. The announcement is imminent, perhaps within the next twenty-four
to forty-eight hours."