The Incubus, Succubus and Son of Perdition Box Set: The Len du Randt Bundle (55 page)

Germany: April, 1932 (
Seven
Months Later
)

‘What exactly happened that night,
Meister?’ Hanz asked. ‘Who or what did you see?'

The man that Hanz addressed as ‘master’ sat silently
for a moment, stroking his moustache and staring intently at the wall across
the room. Minutes felt like hours, and he finally spoke in a soft, almost
quivering voice. ‘The new man is among us,’ he said. ‘He is here!’ He paused
and darted his eyes about the room, as if searching for someone; or something.
‘I will tell you a secret,’ he finally said, his voice slightly above a
whisper. ‘I have seen a vision of the new man; fearless and formidable! I
shrank from him! I was afraid!’

Hanz was confused. ‘The new man?’ He could see
unadulterated fear in his master’s eyes; something he had only ever seen that
evening in September; and now...

Who could manage to scare
this
man so? This man that stood up against Hindenburg himself during the voting
rounds in March and April, despite overwhelming odds. Sure, Hindenburg won the
elections, but still his master stood tall and proud, more determined than
ever.

Adolf Hitler stood up and glared at Hanz and it felt as
if Hitler’s eyes bore holes into his retinas. Hanz could feel an invisible
force drain the strength from his body.

‘We are never to speak of that night again, Hanz. Do
you understand me?’

‘I… I understand…’ Hanz uttered, weakened.

‘Good!’ Hitler said and broke his gaze as he turned to
leave the room.

Hanz could only breathe deeply as his strength slowly
returned.

.I.

 
‘We do not want another
committee.  We have too many already.  What we want is a man of
sufficient stature to hold the allegiance of all people and to lift us out of the
economic morass into which we are sinking. Send us such a man and whether he be
God or devil, we
will
receive him.’

- Paul-Henri Spaak,
Secretary-General of NATO, 1957

South Africa: Today

It was a hard day at work for
Trevor Elliot. His eyes burned from the constant glare of his computer screen.
He spent his day solving Internet problems over the telephone and found the
customers’ relentless queries physically draining.

His numb fingers turned the keys to his apartment door
and he heaved the door open with exaggerated effort.

‘What a day,’ Trevor sighed as he slumped comfortably
onto the sofa in front of his television. He kicked off his shoes and, with
exaggerated effort, reached for the remote control next to him. As he
suspected, all the channels were covering the birth of the new media giant:
Global
Media Network
. The network was the result of a global merger between all
Television, Print, Radio, Internet and news related businesses, be they private
or government institutions. Those not willing to join the GMN team were forced
to shut their doors.

‘Tune in to GMN,’ the voiceover boomed, ‘and become
involved as we cover
all
the news,
all
over the world,
all
the time.’

‘While the tax payers pay your ridiculous salaries,’
Trevor mused. They had a complete channel to themselves seven days a week,
twenty-four hours a day. They also pulled the best crew from various media
sources and doubled their salaries. The conspiracy theorists yelled ‘Big
Brother’ from day one, claiming that GMN was the government’s method of
brainwashing the masses. Trevor couldn’t care less. He just wanted the news
without all the fuss; and while talk shows on all the other channels covered
the merger, GMN covered the news.

Let’s see how good these guys are
, Trevor thought as he turned
up the volume.

‘Israeli police say that the double suicide bombing
earlier today claimed the lives of at least seventeen people. The identities of
the victims will be released once their next of kin have been notified. Israeli
troops are positioned at the border, and all Palestinians are subjected to a
thorough search whenever entering Israeli territory. This has been the ninth
suicide bombing in just four days, and Israel’s Prime Minister, David Cohen,
will release a formal statement at 9 PM, Standard Eastern Time.’

‘Why don’t they just nuke the whole lot?’ Trevor asked
aloud and rolled his eyes. He couldn’t understand why the Israelis would allow
this to happen and not retaliate. If he had been in some position of power, he
would have shoved hundreds of tanks down the Palestinian leader’s throat by
now.

‘The European Union’s bid to create what they call a ‘
United
Europe,
’ was stalled today as three countries, Egypt, Britain, and Iran
were in deadlock about converting to the Euro as their primary currency. The
United Europe would consist of countries currently within the EU, as well as
some outside its borders. A spokesperson for the European Union said that the
United Europe would be built on the blueprint of the old Roman Empire, which
included Egypt and Iran as two of its member countries. European Union
negotiators will try to convince the leaders of the three countries to join
their efforts in what the EU refers to as:
a Greater Empire.
’

Trevor flipped through the rest of the channels,
wondering if there would be something,
anything
, that he could watch
instead, but before he realised it, he was back on GMN.

‘A major Earthquake wreaked havoc in India today as
highways were ripped open, and buildings came crashing down to their
foundations. The quake struck earlier this morning, just after ten o’ clock,
and measured seven point nine on the Richter scale. The death toll is currently
standing at twenty thousand while thousands more are missing.

‘The country has turned to the United Nations for
financial assistance to provide food and shelter for those left homeless or
have been injured by the quake.’

Trevor flipped through the channels again, and again
there was nothing interesting on except the hype around the GMN merger. After
watching a quick interview with the broadcasting manager of GMN, Trevor
returned to the news.

‘Tragedy struck as almost all the members of the
religious cult group known as
The Oracle of David
committed mass suicide
today. According to eye witness reports, their leader, John—no known last
name—shot seven of his eight ‘elders’ before setting their communal home on
fire. He then turned the gun on himself. Tune in next week as we interview the
sole survivor of this terrible ordeal.’

How stupid can one person be to fall for garbage like that?
Trevor thought as he
contemplated making himself a quick something to eat.

‘A man has been arrested for raping and killing a
three-year-old girl. Her badly mutilated body was discovered last week in a
field near the outskirts of Cape Town, South Africa. When asked by prosecutors
why he did it, 27-year-old Joseph Kanizene merely shrugged and claimed that a
‘witch doctor’ told him that raping and killing the girl would cure him of
Aids.

‘This has been the four hundred and fifty-sixth
reported case in only six months, with the number climbing daily. Kanizene’s
medical records indicate that he is still HIV positive, and the local community
are demanding the reinstitution of the death penalty at the—’

The television went black as Trevor pushed the power
button on the remote. He had just lost his appetite. ‘What is this world coming
to?’ he sighed. As he sank deeper into the sofa, he closed his eyes for a quick
nap.

- -
-*  *  *- - -

Egypt:
Four Months Later

Victor Samael Yoshe took a long,
meaningful drag of his cigarette. He liked doing everything with exceptional
style, and even his
€
350 hair cut was
trimmed to perfection, complementing his
€
2800 suit as if they were of the same substance. Every muscle in his
body was perfectly toned. In short, he was the perfect human specimen.

Ryan Archer stared at his employer from across the
room. Victor had found him in an alleyway a little over two years ago, drunk
and broken. His drinking had started casually at first, but soon got out of
hand. It got worse after his wife left him, and then his sole mission was to
see if he could drink himself to death. Had Victor not intervened, he probably
would have succeeded.

Since that fateful meeting in the alleyway, Victor had
trained Ryan in the martial arts, taught him how to be a crack shot with any
pistol, and even polished his etiquette. But aside from these life-altering
changes that Victor had introduced to Ryan, one event stood out from all the
others, etched into his memory like the burn marks of a hot poker. It was when
Victor caught him in his private study, placing the rim of a glass against his
lips as he tried to drink some of the most expensive liquor on Earth.

With perfect stride and emotional control, Victor had
walked over to Ryan, extended his hand toward the broken man, and said, ‘Be
healed, and drink
no
more.’ Just that. Nothing else. He said those six
simple words and left the room, leaving Ryan standing there with glass in his
hand, looking at the golden liquid as if it was gasoline. He hadn’t touched a
drop since, and probably never would again. Although Victor himself still
consumed large amounts of alcohol at some of his extravagant dinner parties,
Ryan never flinched. He just simply didn’t
need
to drink anymore.

Ryan was more of a personal assistant to Victor than a
bodyguard, but he still fulfilled both roles. It wasn’t as if Victor
needed
a bodyguard; it was more a case of keeping up the appearance that he did. Ryan
didn’t mind being a lug-for-hire, as the job included lodging in Victor’s
multi-billion Euro mansion, meeting world famous movers and shakers, and also
earning more in one month than half the world population did in an entire year.

Ryan shifted his gaze from Victor and examined the
figure sitting opposite him more carefully, studying the man’s body language
for any signs of unusual behaviour. So far, there were none. The figure was the
Egyptian President, Ahud Somlal, and unlike Victor, he actually
did
need
bodyguards. He had two of them standing behind him, towering over him like sentinels.
They are brutes
, Ryan thought,
but I could take them out in less than
fifteen seconds.
Ahud himself was a short, stocky man with greasy hair and
sported a
show-me-the-money
look. He clutched his whiskey glass tightly
with his stubby fingers as if it was the most precious thing on Earth. Spittle
flew from his mouth every time he spoke.

‘Now let me see if I understand you correctly, Mr.
Yoshe,’ the Egyptian President spittled.

Victor smiled warmly, and waited patiently for Ahud to
recap the last hour’s conversation.

‘The European Union sent you to convince me to change
the primary currency of Egypt to the Euro, and to join this ‘United Europe.’ Is
that correct?’

Victor nodded.

‘And this United Europe will be divided into ten
regions. Am I right?’

‘You are,’ Victor said, still smiling warmly.

‘And in return for my...involvement...in this United
Europe, you will make me the leader of one of those regions, no?’

‘That is correct, President.’

‘And I will be granted free reign within my appointed
region?’

‘No one would be able to touch so much as a hair on
your head,’ Victor said. ‘But you do, of course, understand that you will fall
under the jurisdiction of the United Europe, which will also be referred to as
the
European Empire
.’

‘The European Empire,’ Ahud said as he painted a
picture of it in his mind. ‘And I will be emperor over—’

‘More like
king
,’ Victor corrected him quickly.
‘A title which, I am sure, is more fitting to royalty such as yourself.’

‘You flatter me, Mr. Yoshe,’ Ahud said and studied the
tall, charismatic gentleman in silence for a minute. He rubbed the stubble on
his chin as images of royalty flashed through his mind. The European Union had
sent many negotiators to him before, but something about Victor just
felt
right. He couldn’t figure out exactly what it was, but he liked it, and he
wanted more of it.

‘Well then, Mr. Yoshe,’ Ahud said and extended his
sweaty palm toward Victor. ‘I am pleased to say that we have a deal.’

Victor took the President’s hand in a firm grip. ‘Let’s
drink to it, shall we?’ he said and exposed his perfect teeth while he lifted
his half-filled glass into the air. Ahud followed suit, and their glasses
connected with a soft
cling
.

- - -*  *  *- -
-

Jerusalem: Passover,
Three
Years Later

The wind swung the wooden window
frame open and shut, causing it to crash with a loud
thunk
sound each
time it slammed back. A storm was brewing and Malcolm Freedman could smell the
coming rain as he reached over to close the window.

He paused to look at the clouds forming on the horizon
and whistled softly.
This is going to be a heavy one
, he thought to
himself as he locked the latches on the windows. Rain mainly fell during the
winter season in Israel, and it was strange to see a storm of this magnitude in
spring.

In the distance, lightning bolts danced around
playfully across the lavender sky as they set off little rumbles of laughter.

Everything was ready for the Seder; the table settings,
the food, the candles, as well as the wine glass and plate, set aside for the
prophet Elijah each year. Elijah, it is believed in certain groups of Orthodox
Jews, is to announce—and prepare the way for—the long awaited Messiah. No one
really knew when Elijah was going to make his appearance, or at which
household, but everyone
felt
that it was going to be soon, and hoped
that it would be theirs. Families had faithfully set aside Elijah’s plate and
cup for generations, and had—since the early 90’s—begun to fill it with food
and wine.

Malcolm looked at the eating utensils. They were the
finest
and were never used on any day during the
year other than this day. It had been a wedding gift from his wife’s parents
but, because of its value, Mary and Malcolm had decided to use it only at
Seder. Everything else: the plates, napkins, wine glasses, and even the glass
used for the water, were of exceptional quality, yet it still couldn’t match
the elegance and style of the utensils. Malcolm took his seat at the table. The
Seder was ready to commence.

‘Let the daughter of Zion come forward and kindle the
festival lights,’ Malcolm recited. ‘As these lights are lit in Jewish homes
throughout the world, we usher in the Passover of the Lord.’

His wife lit the candles.

‘Thank you, Mary.’

Malcolm waited until his wife was seated again before
continuing, ‘At Passover we drink from our cups of wine four times. Each cup
symbolizes a vital element of the telling: Sanctification, Plague, Redemption,
and Praise. As we lift our first cup together, let us remember that we are
sanctified by our relationship with HaShem, and praise Him, saying:’