“Ellen revealed certain secrets today, that in context, make her death suspicious,” Zach added.
Eddie flashed him a look to kill. He’d been filled in on the details of the Heritage Paper presentation prior to the trip over, and didn’t take it well.
“I don’t know what these secrets are,” Mrs. Rhodes said, for the first time appearing flustered. “But Ellen was not of sound mind, and tended to make up grand stories—like the aliens. It’s very natural when the mind begins to slip.”
Eddie wasn’t listening, “I’m also going to need to see the security tape.”
The assistant returned with the list of visitors. Eddie ripped the paper from her hand and began examining it. Two obvious names—Eddie and Maggie—dominated the list. They were the only visitors besides Veronica in the last month … except one.
Aligor Sterling.
“That’s an interesting piece of information that Mr. Sterling forgot to mention this morning,” Zach said. “And what makes it more interesting, is if Sterling knew Ellen planned on making her admission public, then he possessed a motive to silence her. A lot is riding on this election for him.”
Eddie scoffed, “That’s ridiculous. Besides, his visit came two weeks ago. Why don’t you leave the police work to me, Nancy Drew.”
“I’m just saying it would be convenient for him if Ellen was permanently muted. I have no idea what happened, but the fact is, Ellen likely died by cyanide poisoning. Which begs the question—what kind of person can get his hands on cyanide? Probably someone with a lot of connections like Aligor Sterling.”
“You don’t know the cause of death. The tests haven’t even come back yet.”
“I’m just giving the opinion of an unbiased observer. I have no dog in this fight, unlike yourself.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You have a motive to protect Sterling—to save your cushy security job for Kingston.”
Eddie jumped at Zach. He grabbed him by his tie and yanked him in his direction. He was about to start the pummeling when a shrill shout sliced through the room, stopping everyone in their tracks.
“Stop fighting!”
Maggie stood in the doorway, her face flush with anger. “You are acting like a bunch of children! Oma would be disappointed—now follow me.”
For some reason it didn’t seem like they had a choice, so they fell into line behind the twelve-year-old. Except for Eddie, who stayed behind like a pouting child to continue badgering Dr. Bondy and Mrs. Rhodes.
Maggie maneuvered them through the
Long Term Care
facility and out a sliding glass door that led to a courtyard. She trudged over the grounds until she came to a weathered maintenance shed. She went directly to a man in a flannel shirt who was old enough to pass for a resident. Maggie called him Red, and ignored his stench of gasoline and freshly cut grass to embrace him in a hug. She then introduced Red as the head of landscaping at Sunshine Village.
“What can I do for you, Mags?” he asked.
“I need to borrow a shovel.”
Could this get any weirder
, Veronica wondered. But on second thought, she really didn’t want to know the answer.
Maggie flung the shovel over her shoulder and led them to a desolate, wooded area on the campus grounds. Without a word, she began to dig.
The group was too entranced to say anything, or offer help. About a foot deep in the hard November ground, Maggie put her shovel down and struggled to pull out an object that was covered in a plastic garbage bag. Zach and Youkelstein proved that chivalry wasn’t totally dead, helping her bring the object to the surface
At least it’s not a body,
Veronica thought. Hoped.
When Maggie tore off the garbage bag, Veronica was stunned. It was a painting of a young man draped in a fur coat, with long 1970s rock band type hair escaping from underneath a beret.
Veronica moved closer to examine the painting. It could be a fake, but something told her it was the real deal.
And Mama Sweetney said those art history classes would never pay off
.
“You recognize it?” Zach asked.
“Yes—it’s Raphael’s
Portrait of a Young Man
. It was looted from the Czartoryski Museum in 1939. It’s arguably the most famous still-missing painting from the Nazi art plundering during World War II.”
Youkelstein joined her in examining it. “My Lord,” he uttered, focused on the inscription. Veronica cringed.
Who would do such a thing to this valuable painting?
The writing was in German, but Youkelstein translated. “It says: To my beloved Ellen on the birth of your Josef. He will be painted one day as the leader of the world, and his painting will be titled The Chosen One.”
He paused for dramatic effect, before adding, “And it is signed by Adolf Hitler.”
Oh, him.
Veronica guessed that if he was willing to destroy a race of people, desecrating a painting likely wouldn’t have caused him any sleepless nights.
“I’m not a handwriting expert,” Youkelstein said, “but I’ve seen that bastard’s writing more than my own. I’d bet my remaining years that it’s not a fake.”
Maggie turned to Veronica. “Oma said I should show you this painting if she died unexpectedly. She said you would know what to do with it.”
“How did you …” Veronica began, but her words trailed off. She knew the answer.
“We got it from her security box at the bank when we picked up the photos you yelled at me for before.” A sheepish grin came over Maggie’s face. “Oma really didn’t see aliens that night—it was just an excuse to bury the painting.”
Ellen
was
crazy, but not crazy the way they thought. She was crazy like a fox. But she was wrong about one thing—Veronica had no idea what to do.
Zach noticed something. “Look—there’s a note taped to the back.”
Youkelstein pulled the note off and read it. “It says to deliver the painting to Flavia’s Art Gallery in Rhinebeck.”
Arriving at his office just beneath the clouds, Otto peered down at the magnificent skyline of New York City. It was as if he were levitating above the great metropolis.
No wonder people think I have a god complex
, he thought to himself with a grin. But reaching the top of the world was only the first step—a journey sixty-plus years in the making—it was now time to run it.
He felt a tremble go through his body, and noticed his hands shaking. He didn’t know if it was from the overwhelming anticipation, or just the effects of his advanced age.
The last few days had been the most stressful of his life. Whether to remove Ellen from the equation was the toughest decision he’d had to make since being anointed the leader of the Apostles—it was as if it were a final test. But Ellen had spared him the gut-wrenching choice, by choosing to take her own life—her loyalty shining through one final time.
When Otto heard the news, the first thing he thought of was the Führer. He always had a special spot for Ellen, but the Führer understood the importance of making the ultimate sacrifice to reach necessary goals. He had predicted this day many years ago, and now he’d taken Ellen home so she could join him in viewing their great triumph.
Thoughts of his mentor momentarily calmed Otto, and stopped the shaking. But as he studied his wrinkled hands, he realized he no longer recognized them. That was the cruel part of the aging process—he remained trapped within the excruciating knowledge of his deterioration. He envied Ellen, and her alien sightings, unaware that her mind had turned to mush.
In his mind, he was still the dashing young spy of yesteryear. His legend grew to the heights of the Loch Ness Monster within Nazi circles. Nobody could ever identify the mysterious Otto, but they knew he was present, camouflaged seamlessly into the background.
And perhaps his greatest secret was that the renowned Nazi spy wasn’t even German. He grew up in Dublin as Petey O’Neill. He’d come a long way from that street-hustling kid in Ireland, who was only a toddler when his brother was killed during Bloody Sunday. At the mere age of ten, Petey carried out orders to kill a British intelligence agent—disguised by his youth, they never saw him coming—to achieve justice for the brother he never really knew.
The British came after him mercilessly. This was no surprise, since the British never understood the concept of mercy, and his life in Dublin was effectively over. In order to save his last remaining son, Petey’s father moved his family to the States—Brooklyn, to be specific.
Petey never fit in his new surroundings. Ironic, since his natural ability to assimilate into any situation is what made him such a lethal spy. As he entered his teens, he grew to hate America, and especially the Jews who controlled his father’s job. The one he slaved at over a hundred hours a week—until one day when they decided they didn’t need him anymore, and killed him and Petey’s mother.
By his mid-teens, Petey was orphaned and passed around from neighbor to neighbor. He did find comfort in the Good Book. Not the Bible, but a visionary work by an up-and-coming German politico named Adolf Hitler, called
Mein Kampf
. It was as if he’d understood Petey’s pain. A pain that he could only numb by running—he channeled his tortured emotions into becoming the top high school track athlete in New York. Just the thought of those days bemused Otto. He patted his old legs, wondering if they were napping and would wake up in time to sprint to the finish line.
Many in his Brooklyn neighborhood, made up of hardworking Irish, Germans, and Italians, raised money for the local track star, so he could attend the 1936 Olympics Games in Munich. Jesse Owens stole the headlines at the Games that year, but nobody ran faster than Petey O’Neill. He ran all the way to a new life. He wouldn’t return to America for nine years.
While at the Olympics, he posed as a British diplomat in order to gain a meeting with his hero. The Führer was impressed by Petey’s ability to avoid his security, which, combined with his desperate need for English-speaking spies, made him an ideal choice to become a German intelligence officer. It was an offer he couldn’t refuse. Petey might not have been blood German, but his loyalty to the Führer was unmatched, and he was willing to go to any length to prove it when challenged, which the Führer constantly did.
He was assigned to Reichsführer-SS Heinrich Himmler, who many considered the second most powerful man in Germany, and unquestionably the most ruthless. Petey was sent to Britain, where he enlisted as an agent in the British SIS named Peter Jansen. Mixing trickery with charm, and his debonair nature—he still believed the James Bond character created by Ian Fleming, whom he crossed paths in British intelligence circles, was based on him—he moved quickly up the ladder.
When war broke out in 1939, Peter Jansen was able to pass important strategic information to Himmler, including the British plans to defend Belgium and France. With each piece of classified information he turned over he grew in stature and responsibility.
His signature moment came in May of 1941, although he wouldn’t realize the significance until much later. He was to establish communication between the Duke of Hamilton and his German contacts, to create a secret meeting in which Hitler’s right-hand-man, Rudolf Hess, would travel to Britain as an envoy of peace. Peter Jansen tipped off the SIS about this meeting, allowing the British to capture Hess.
Of course, it wasn’t Hess who had parachuted to what he thought was the Duke of Hamilton’s residence. Nor was the man who spent the rest of his life jailed in Spandau Prison after being convicted as a war criminal at the Nuremberg Trials.
The Führer was so impressed by the Hess operation that he began affectionately referring to Petey as Otto, because he “carried the spirit of the ‘Iron Chancellor’ Otto von Bismarck,” who was credited with the unification of Germany. It also catapulted him into his most trusted inner circle—a group of twelve men and women anointed as the Apostles. The group’s name was a sign of both the Führer’s contrarian side and gargantuan ego. He didn’t lack for either. But its formation showed a pragmatic side that was not normally his strength.
The purpose of the Apostles was to carry on the workings of the Reich if the war effort failed—a fact that all German leaders grasped long before the stubborn Führer. It was a plan that Otto unknowingly set into motion when he helped remove the real Hess from Germany. Hess was accompanied by a child named Josef, who was entrusted with returning the Reich to its rightful place. Hess would serve as the child’s father in their new home, while the plane was flown by a brilliant German intelligence officer, who would play the role of Josef’s mother.
And while the plan was enacted over the next six decades, the chaos of April 30, 1945 in the Führerbunker was a constant reminder to Otto that things don’t always go as planned. It was a day that almost derailed the entire operation before it began. But even with the many bumps in the road, including the many issues concerning Josef, they were now on the threshold of regaining the kingdom in the most glorious fashion.
He looked down again at his shaky hands that held his cell phone. He understood now why they shook. He dreaded making this call.
The Candidate answered on the first ring.