The Heritage Paper (17 page)

March 28, 1953

Philip,

I can’t tell you how much your letter made my blood pulse. I have not heard from you in eight years. You always taught me about the importance of faith, but your capture after the war tested mine. I’m sure that working for the Americans could not have been easy for you, but at least you were safe and able to continue to fight the Russians. They are truly the most dastardly of all the earth’s creatures.

The plan has carried on in your absence. Thank goodness that the Korean conflict has finally ended, so we can move toward the endgame. Josef is now fourteen and living with the family that was created to care for him. But I must tell you that our son has his mother worried. I’m told his indiscretions are a unique American phenomenon called teenagers. But on the rare occasions I’m able to visit with him, I see trouble in his eyes. I think he needs you … his father.

My next words are the ones I’ve avoided since receiving your correspondence. I have married. A good man named Harold—an honorable police officer like yourself. He knows nothing of the group or why we were sent to America. We don’t share the same fire as you and I did, Philip, but he is sturdy and the best friend I could ever imagine. We have a son named Harry Jr., who is now four years old. I can only hope that one day he will get to meet his brother Josef.

I can’t wait to wrap my arms around you once again. Although, I know secrecy will be paramount for any such meeting.

Love always, Andrew

October 6, 1959

We did it, Philip! We married off our son. What a grand day! I never thought it possible that all the still-living Apostles could be in the same place at the same time. I joked with Bartholomew during dinner that it was our version of The Last Supper, and he responded that he was just glad that no secrets were revealed with so much champagne being consumed. Harold mentioned you when we returned to the city. He was very impressed with the security you provided for the wedding, especially how well organized it was. I could imagine the two of you being great friends under different circumstances. Unfortunately, he can never know who you are. Who we are!

I can only hope this union sets Josef in the right direction. Thaddeus looked beautiful and now that two Apostle families have joined, we are prepared to take our rightful place. I felt Peter beaming down on us. He must have been so proud—he’s the one who anointed him the Chosen One, and despite Josef’s many stumbles, I still believe in Peter’s prophecy. And now we will become grandparents! I wish we could celebrate such a proud moment together, but I understand the situation, as we all do. I was relieved that they had the ceremony before she showed too much. That could be quite a scandal in the high society Josef has now joined. But anything to take the focus away from their true identify is a blessing.

December 1, 1963

I haven’t been able to bring myself to write you, Philip. But I’m so relieved that you’re finally out of the hospital. I feel the need to be by your side, but we both know that’s not a possibility. Harold has focused on my recent depression. He doesn’t know I was down about being unable to help my Philip.

Otto found evidence that traced your stroke to Thomas. I know this is not a surprise to you, or any of us. But this was just the tip of the iceberg when it came to Thomas’ sins against the group. As we might have suspected, he was plotting his takeover since before the war ended, and was responsible for your capture by the Americans, while also plotting with Judas to murder Peter. Trust was always Peter’s downfall, and both of us did warn him of Thomas’ true intentions. I know it’s no consolation to you, Philip, but we brought you some semblance of justice. Thomas is no longer a threat to us, or anyone.

The recent news of the death of President Kennedy was shocking. It made me think of his mother—I can’t even fathom what it must be like for a mother to witness her son being murdered. It made me feel blessed that Josef is alive and healthy, although his relationship with this Olivia woman worries me. I am not one to argue against a mistress for a powerful man, but having a child is complicated and dangerous, as you know, especially with her working for the Americans. But I am glad you have got to spend time with Josef these last few years, and I must say I am excited about our new granddaughter, even if I have reservations about the mother. Get well, my love.

Veronica glanced at Flavia. Her ice princess persona was beginning to melt. Her mother was the Olivia that Ellen spoke of, the mistress who was to have a child with Josef. That would make Heinrich Müller her grandfather, and it suddenly made more sense as to why he left the farm to her. It would also explain the trips her mother made to Rhinebeck and her recollections of Gus Becker’s son—he was Flavia’s father.

Which meant that Flavia and Carsten did have something in common after all—Ellen Peterson was their grandmother.

Veronica’s journey through history brought her to the 1970s. A time of bell-bottoms, shag carpets, and much tragedy for Ellen Peterson. The loss of her children caused a seismic shift in Ellen’s thinking.

September 26, 1972

I’m sorry that I haven’t written in so long, Philip, but I hadn’t the strength to lift a pen. The death of our son has sent me into the depths of despair. I need to be in your arms—it’s the only tonic that could possibly ease the pain. It hurt me so much that your condition wouldn’t allow you to attend our son’s funeral.

I feel you are the only person I can trust now. Every motherly instinct I have is telling me that someone from within the group was responsible for his death. I am the first to admit that his worst enemy was himself. The drugs, the floozies, and his utter lack of ambition and self-discipline, I feel are a reflection on me as his mother. I failed him. The group failed him.

I am suspicious of all the Apostles, Otto included. But I will act like a grieving mother until I get more proof. What type of vicious animal would shoot a man right in front of his son?

August 4, 1975

Maybe I deserved this, Philip. But I would have rather been hit by a lighting bolt than lose another son. I tried to shield Harry Jr. from the secrets of the Apostles, but I couldn’t protect him from his own violent and self-destructive nature. I’ve been thinking a lot about ‘nature versus nurture’ since Harry’s death, wondering if I passed these genetics to both my children. The police say she killed him in self-defense and I have no reason to doubt that. I knew what he had become, I wasn’t naïve, and it happened long before that night. It is part of the dark cloud that has been following me since we came to America. And now both my children have been the ones to pay the price. Harold Sr. is devastated. Some days I worry that he will harm himself. He is oblivious to the dark legacy I’ve brought to my children.

I will spend the remainder of my days on this planet protecting the family that I have left. It will be our secret that I no longer support the Apostles. My only dedication now is to raise my grandson Carsten, and his half-brother Edward. They are my last chance to bring light into my darkness. You must do the same for our granddaughter.

Veronica made eye contact with Flavia from across the room. Her humanity was coming more into focus each moment, even if Veronica didn’t want to admit it.

And Veronica actually found some sympathy for Ellen. She had dedicated the last part of her life to protecting Carsten from the truth of his heritage, only to have him find a box of letters in the back of a closet, sending his curious mind on a dangerous mission. That’s the thing about being a mother—you can do all the right things and offer fortress-like protection, but in the end, the world can be cruel and random, and there is nothing you can do to stop it. Veronica looked at Maggie and Jamie, and realized no matter what she did, she couldn’t guarantee their safety. She felt helpless.

Zach addressed Flavia, “You said you cross-checked these letters against the ones Carsten Peterson had found. The ones that Müller wrote to Ellen. Can we see those?”

“I don’t know where they are. They were in his possession the last I knew, but they weren’t on him when he died, and were never found, as far as I know.”

“We need to re-construct Carsten’s last day. That’s our best chance to lead us in the right direction,” Zach said, sounding assertive.

Veronica didn’t think Maggie or Jamie should be reconstructing the day their father died, and sent them out to “play” with their Uncle Eddie. Jamie was itching to join his police partner ever since Eddie bolted from the house, and eagerly ran to the door. Maggie didn’t go willingly, but after a spirited debate she relented. She was picking her battles carefully.

“It was the first time I’d seen Carsten scared,” Flavia said softly. “He informed me that we’d stumbled into a dangerous situation and that he no longer wanted me involved. I fought him, of course, but he was a stubborn one. Seeking help, he went to his boss at Sterling Publishing, Aligor Sterling, who as you know, is an expert on the subject.”

The comment almost sent Veronica through the chimney. Flavia read her look. “It’s not what you think—Sterling told him that he couldn’t help him. So Carsten took up the search alone and began confiding in a mystery source he’d found through his research. And before you even ask me, he refused to tell me the name of the source.”

Just the mention of Sterling seemed to irritate Youkelstein, who “pulled an Eddie” and stomped angrily into the next room.

“Where did he go on that final day?” Zach asked.

“He left to meet his source in Poughkeepsie. I should have followed him, and I’ve regretted not doing so ever since.”

“What was the game plan after Carsten met his contact?”

“We were supposed to meet up later that night for a strategy session at the motel room he was using in Poughkeepsie. But when I got there …”

Flavia didn’t need to finish the sentence. She began to tear-up and Veronica did the same. She wasn’t sure if she was crying for Carsten or because Maggie and Jamie had to grow up without a father.

“And that’s where the trail ends?” Zach asked.

“Not exactly,” Flavia said, and once again had the group’s full attention. “I found a note in his pocket before the paramedics arrived. It listed a meeting in Bedford, New York with someone named Rose. I have no idea if it was a first or last name. It was dated from the previous day, but contained no details.”

“Was this Rose his contact? The one he went to meet in Poughkeepsie?”

Flavia shrugged. “I have no idea. Like I said, he didn’t tell me the contact’s name. And with all the aliases these people use, who knows if Rose was the real name, or even if it was a man or woman. I don’t even know where I’d start looking.”

After a brief silence, Veronica spoke up, “I know who Rose is, and she didn’t meet Carsten in Poughkeepsie. She hasn’t left Bedford in thirty-five years.”

Otto sat by the open window, gazing out into the boundless water. The cold breeze made the curtains dance and goose-bumped his arms. It reminded him that winter was on its way. Perhaps his last winter. But no doubt his most glorious one.

He returned his attention to his favorite poem,
Nibelungenlied,
which he had read throughout his life prior to entering battle. In it, the dragon-slaying hero Siegfried is stabbed in the back by Hagen of Tronje. Otto remembered reading it for the first time back in Brooklyn. The words articulated how he felt—stabbed in the back—and he wept that night, knowing that there were others out there who shared his pain.

It reminded him of the young German soldier, who also broke into tears upon feeling a stab in the back. Adolf Hitler sat blinded in a Munich hospital in 1917—wounded in battle—when he learned of Germany’s defeat in World War I.

When his sight returned, he was appalled by what he saw. The German state was being run by those who sabotaged them during the war. The Jewish elite controlled businesses, yet he rarely witnessed them sacrificing their lives on the front line. They were profiting from Germany’s defeat. They began robbing the German people of their natural intellectual leadership and enslaving them. He also understood that the oppression in Germany was not an isolated incident, but part of a bigger Zionist conspiracy to dominate the world.

And the only way to stop this world domination was through revolution. And that was exactly what Hitler did, returning Germany to its rightful place in 1933. He fought against the saboteurs of Germany—the Jewish elites and Marxists, and their enablers in Europe and the West—and while he lost his courageous fight, it was only temporary, as Otto had continued the quest. And with the revolution entering the final stages, Otto could feel the Führer’s presence. He was not alone.