A Geni Curator Team Production.
A Wiki format novel--Contributors Welcome
"THE MALEVOLENT MERGE"
A pulse racing, heart stopping, global thriller about a cabal of corporate white collar terrorists who want to destroy Geni's mission to unite the world in peace and freedom---with unexpected existential, extraterrestrial twists and turns.
Logo created by curator, Jeff Gentes
The Malovent Merge Characters:
- Verushka thought to be the utterly ruthless head of Russian Oligarchs and the diabolical Huxley Media Consortium they clandestinely control. Unknown to all, she is only the mouthpiece for a mysterious leader she has never met.
- Damian, Head of CIA / Homeland Security Division feels like he is decompensating---unrelenting pressure at work
trying to keep the US safe from terrorists, a demanding unanticipated mistress/thearapist, a casual sexual encounter that he cannot recall, but which threatens to destroy his world, and insistantly pressing family obligations.
- Jeanne du Plessis South African analyst to the world's powerbrokers, and Rashad her crossdressing, doublecrossing assistant.
- Neils Swanson, a worldclass journalist, publisher of the Delphi Oracle is obviously a JL wikileaks character, and he is a neutral force situated comfortably in both worlds, consorting with predators, and yet working for the good of the commoners. He is unaware though of the fine line he is treading.
- Rashad in costume
- Layla, is Damian's stunning Ethiopian assistant at Homeland Security-Langley USA
- Marco P. Zendesko the world's highest paid assassin. He evolved from a super spy to highly trained contract assassin, master of the traceless natural looking kill.
- Dr. Janus Wunderkind - The duplicitious leader of the sinister cabal as well as the head of the World Economic Forum's peerless elite think tank, second only to Klaus Schwab, the founder of WEF.
- Ofir, Mossad's covert liaison to the CIA.
- Uriel Schaynerman, an Israeli statesman and revered retired general,veteran of war and peace negotiations, a politician respected by both friends and foe alike.
- Mike Langstom Ml6 British Military Intelligence agent.
- The sisters are the Holy Grail remnant, currently unknowlngly wandering around earth oblivous of their divine powers. Sister 3, Vuga.
- The Othersiders, (agents of good and evil from Dimension M) equal the whole universe, while we earthlings are a goldfish bowl ecosystem---and the universe is peering in as we unknowningly go about our everyday lives like an ocean filled with diverse marine life---the cabal of terrorists being a school of predatory big fish aiming to take control of the ocean.
- The Othersider's intergalactic game of Armageddon is using the Geni.com site as a Wii virtual platform, the stakes are high for the future of the earth is being gambled on
ie. how the members interact on Geni.com site, will virtually resonate powers of evil or good throughout our hemisphere, either the earth will be redeemed from extinction, or doomed to annihalation.
- The murdered Cairo conventioneer was carrying a secret message from
Niels Swanson's Oracle of Delphi's offices to warn the genealogists about a recent glitch in the Geni.com site-
that would enable anyone who would come across the Holy Grail scrolls to be able to breach and discover that there were descendants of the Holy family alive on earth, and their identities could be discovered and be revealed to the world.
"THE MALEVOLENT MERGE" - Chapter l (ist draft)
It happened around midnight. Profile hunter Damien Earl knew his world would never be the same again. Without warning, thousands of merge requests had suddenly hit his computer screen. The scourge had manifested itself in viral proportions overnight. Who could know the dangerous dark secret of the debonaire director of Homeland Security?
Meanwhile, in downtown Moscow, Verushka Shepkovetsky gently caressed the razor sharp edge of her stiletto letter opener as she contemplated her next move. Her long, shapely legs crossed, she sat surrounded by a stunning priceless collection of profile images, a representation of the venerable Medici family line she had just corrupted.
The calmness at Geni Headquarters belied the severity of the situation. Yes, it was true, no problem was too big for the ingenuity of the special forces Geni curators to solve---but little did the Geni team realize that their mission had caught the attention of the "Otherside- Dimension M".
The interplanetary agents of good and evil from the Otherside - Dimension M, were waging bets on whether the family of mankind could indeed unite in peaceful coexistence, or would the power of avarice, greed and corruption destroy this dream. The stakes were high
mankind's very existence was in the balance, and evil had just tipped the balance sharply to the side of earth's ultimate extinction.
The Internet had inadvertently and completely unknowingly penetrated the amorphous twilight zone housing the transcedantal extraterrestrial forces for good and evil, and repository of the sacred holographic recordings archiving the history of the world, and of every single being. This action by the clueless humans had finally offered an opportunity for the agents of the Otherside, to link into an object and synchronize its action to resonate virtually throughout the universe in a holographic fashion.
A coin was tossed, and the agents of Evil won. After a heated argument, they decided that the Geni.com site was optimal for the ultimate intergalatic battle of the powers of good against evil to unfold. To put it simply, the fate of the world was now in the hands of oblivious Geni members and the perturbations of their actions, how they interfaced and worked together would either create positive energy to unite the world in peace---or destroy all hope of it and thus doom earth to extinction via greedy hoarding, and other corrupting moves. Basically, the players were engaging in a Wii-like battle of life and death.
Niels Swanson, the swashbuckling Swedish born publisher, hacker extraordinaire, currently the center of a globe wide scandal rocking the planet, was rumored to be in receipt of a missing trove of ancient scrolls unearthed during renovations recently at the venerable Our Lady of Lourdes Shrine, in Lourdes France.
Furthermore, word had it that if the information found in these ancient documents were to be revealed, it would be catastrophic for the Vatican, and would cause chaos and anarchy in much of the western world. As Swanson sat nonchalantly in Paris-Orly Airport waiting for his delayed flight to New York, his mind was contemplating the extraordinary events of the past week, when suddenly his unlisted cell phone vibrated ominiously and he knew instantly that this was bad news.
Simultaneously, across the globe, in Langley Virginia, NSA headquarters, Damien Earl continued to stare at the malicious Gedcom scourge that had just manifested on his Mac, still uncomprehending the full extent of it's meaning. While, Verushka, flush with triumph dialed an unlisted number known only to her, and a few select powerful leaders of the world. At Silicon Valley everything appeared to be business as usual, for the unsuspecting Geni team, and the small army of tireless global Geni curators
But, time had stood still for a nano second, and the epoch-ending, intergalactic game of Armageddon Gedcom Wii had commenced. Unwittingly, earthling's Internet highway had pierced the universe's protective cyber-wall, the amorphous twilight zone housing forces of good and evil, thus permitting these extraterrestrial agents now free access to the hallowed virgin earthly sphere. The Armagaddon Wii finals were underway and the only antidote to prevent earth's complete annihilation should the Evil powers win lay in unsuspecting Niels Swanson stylish, trendy all white, sleek bachelor apartment located in the centre of The Hague---the Lourdes scrolls!
CHAPTER ll (ist draft)
Armageddon Gedcom Wii Begins
And there she was, Verushka, women of a brilliant mind, more a cyborg than a women, with phone in one hand looking at those faces, while her brain was in parallel processing mode, scanning the images, while the background algorithms were deploying, processing and eliminating matches. Suddenly, there was a hot match, there in front of her, and a definite feeling as she has seen this profile before? Where was it? The information was there, but pointer to that location was missing. Changing her mind, she dropped the phone, and Swanson answered the phone only to meet with an a eerie forboding silence. This could not be good!
In a sunny South African office, the Jungian psychoanalyst, Jeanne du Plessis, was writing up the case notes on her last patient for the day. "For heaven's sake, does everyone's consciousness always have to come back to sex and death?" she murmured to Isis, the parrot – who was muttering away on her own in the corner of the room.
“Hello Ice,” was the conversational reply from the back of the chair, by a consciousness which did not see the necessity for gratuitously repeated syllables.
Jeanne had called the parrot 'Isis', after the iconical Egyptian goddess, because she was fascinated by the quasi mythological status of the lineages of the Pharaohs, and was busy entering them onto the world genealogical tree on the internet. The great mother's name had, however, been quickly reduced to that of a rap singer in the voice of a parrot who still hadn’t worked out she could fly!
She was about to engage in another one-sided conversation with the Macaw – which, after all, was what she kept her for (her own profession always positioning her on the receiving end of such dialogues) – when she noticed an incoming email from a fellow curator on the genealogy website.
Damien Earl was obviously distraught, and making little sense. He had been a long-term client of Jeanne’s as a result of investigations into the terrorist mecca of secret underground subtexts on Geni.com . Falling prey to paranoia was an unfortunate side-effect of his job as Director of Homeland Security for his country, however he knew his fears were not unfounded. His international flights from Washington DC to see Jeanne in South Africa were billed as political business, and always occurred incognito. ‘A necessary covert operation precaution’ which might or might not have been part of his own paranoia, but which psychological instability appeared to have flared up again unless he was reading the tone of his email incorrectly.
Apparently, all his ‘secrets were accessible and now negotiable tender’--the unknown blackmailer had to be stopped!!! But, how??? In addition, someone on Geni had replaced the Medici profiles with images from the Medici tarot cards, commissioned in the 15th Century. This, according to Damien, was evidence of a long suspected international conspiracy of global importance, as well as of immense personal significance.
Jeanne wandered into the office of her secretary, Rashad – a 25 year old computer programmer, who worked for her because it meant his own passion for cyberspace would only be interrupted on an hourly basis to oversee the transition between clients. It had helped that he was a programmer for Geni – Jeanne’s passion. At the moment he was experiencing a crisis identity. The cross dressing geek programmer with exceptionally clean shaven legs reluctantly looked up as Jeanne entered.
Jeanne paid the bills – so he made an effort to focus on her question about the possibility of hacking the Geni data base. Conspiracy theories weren’t something that blew his hair back, but her mention of tarot cards caught his attention. This morning the internet had been rife with talk about a virus that had infiltrated files across the world’s databases with an image that was quickly identified as the tarot’s ‘Hanged Man’ card.
Nobody had reported any malevolent effects beyond this image appearing and then disappearing on the screen, so it had been written off as nothing more than the stylish opening calling card of a new player in the global network game. Now Jeanne was suggesting that it had appeared – along with a ‘family’ of tarot card images - on his watch! Why had he been left out of the loop?
CHAPTER lll ( ist draft )
Murder in Cairo
Across the globe, in a dark gloomy office, in the building with no windows, with the walls painted in blue to imitate the sky she could not see, Buga was leaning over a desk, filthy with coffee and stains. She has spent last night in her cell like quarters at the Doctor's Without Borders headquarters in Kenya trying to find a solution to this terrible Medici cyber-crime. She was not only here on a mission of mercy to help heal the unfortunate, but was also a world class hacker and one of Niel Swanson's best sources. She had never met him in person though.
Now she thought about how he had responded when she told him about her sisters Tuga and Vuga, and how they travelled the Silk Road by camel and foot. She told him how her sister's stories of ancient clairvoyant souls they had met along the way. She was thinking of all those very lost souls and their predications of earthly doom and diseaster in line with the Mayan prediction that the world would cease by the year 2012 as she saw the tarot cards appear.
In Geni, his home turf! How had this happened? Rashad absentmindedly looked up as Jeane discussed dates and other trivia, when in the fact they both knew that this was all irrelevant for her if the Medici line had been activated. So, Rashad kept quietly obsessing, until someone came knocking on the door. The patient's file covered with warnings was in his hand. He momentarily glanced inside--- the name sprang out at him, the name of the one all feared, the one that held the balance of the world in by hand.
Jeane grabbed the file away, and started turning the loose pages, looking at the profiles, and every single one of them had a mark on them , a signature challenge, ‘Catch me if you can’. Why was this happening? This was not just another ego unravelling. Who was this beautiful Golden Vuga? Was she now about to be hostage to unbearable truths? Could a fiendish mind finally have figured out that she knew way too much? All the years treating patients no one else dared take on
politicians, dignitaries, world leader, targets of dark forces only she knew about---subjects which rarely escaped alive and unscathed.
On the other continent, Damian was indeed thinking about Golden Vuga, and her lovely sister Buga, unsure if they were real, or he had fleetingly imagined them during those dark days of the cold war, imprisoned in his nemises, Verushka's dacha. Now with the Gedcom source unleashed, a possible Lourdes Holy Grail find and the Medici profiles corrupted, he knew he was in serious trouble. He needed to see his psychiatrist asap and find out what she thought.
But, instead he took another cup of coffee and returned back to Homeland Security Business. Tomorrow he would take care of everything. Refreshed, he would fly to Johannesburg and and not leave till he was satisfied Jeane had grounded him back in reality. He reluctantly typed a cryptic email to his mysterious friend – cupid strikes tmw--and then he changed his mind. Instead, Damian called Jeane's office directly to set up tomorrows session.
Until now, Verushka had been working tirelessly on her mission. It had been easy to keep curators in other parts of the world distracted from her true goal. Geni headquarters and curators had been flooded with requests for help to repair ancestral lines on the Big Tree now disconnected as major profiles had been deleted. Fake zombie duplicates were appearing at unimaginable rates. Incest prevailed, as parents reappeared married to children and grandchildren---relationships that were real only in Verushka's dark devious plotting mind plagued families.
The possibilities had been endless, and at times even humorous- as far as Verushka was capable of humor. But the ruse had worked thus far--it had kept her true work well hidden. Verushka contemplated the amassed profile images before her, and pondered her next move. She slid the stiletto letter opener into the sheath on her desk.
In the far corner of the low lit Shisha Lounge in a Dubai skyscraper called ‘Babel Tower’ the TV is set to English Subtitles. Breaking news is a bizarre murder that has taken place during the Egyptian riots. A man has been found hung upside down on an ancient cross in the Egyptian Museum. The TV cameras had not arrived in time to capture the image of his body being removed from the cross, but they had been there in time for the moment when a matronly dressed woman, perhaps his mother, knelt to receive his body at its foot.
It wasn’t exactly the pieta pose, although, at first that was all you saw. The alleged mysterious mother was, in fact, too young for the Christ-like way. Although you only saw this once she was dragged away from him; or rather, him away from her.
The man was apparently a French high level delegate at a genealogy conference being held in Cairo. The Egyptian government, only too happy to to turn the world's attention from the steadily growing riots, was showing the 24 hour CNN coverage of the murder in its entirety. A cutaway to an interview with another delegate at the conference, revealed little more than the fact that the woman like the dead man, had been working on a famous Biblical line that supposedly stretched back to ancient Egypt on an genealogy cyber programme called Geni.
Across the room, in a shadowy pool of late afternoon murkiness, dimly spot lit by whirlpools of shisha smoke, a figure moaned with satisfaction as she overturned the King of Pentacles card from the Medici tarot deck, and placed it next to that of the Hanged Man. Momentarily disturbed by this provocative act, her strikingly handsome swarthy companion stands up, nods in acknowledgment and disappears before Verushka could indicate more demands. Challenged by this subtle rebuff, to complete the plan with or without the swarthy companion's artistry, she booted up her laptop to immediately alert the covert cabal gaming community using the Geni.com platform to signal the cabal's next move.
CHAPTER lV (1st draft )
A rested, but very dishevelled Damian Earl had arrived, and was in session brainstorming his dreadful predicament with Jeane, his Freudian bend, and pills? No problem. “No, I don’t think the bird is a phoenix symbol from my unconscious! These girls, this woman – this person – is as real as that psychotic parrot in your office, Jeanne! Well, as real as anything in my line of work. She is definitely behind it all--- see that rare mark from the 15th Century on all the Medici profiles! My &*%, Jeanne – have you not seen the news? They hung our French friend in the Cairo museum!
No! I haven’t lost it! Jeanne – are you listening to me? Just turn on your TV set please. Jeanne, I’ve got to go to Cairo. Oh sh@t, I have an important meeting back in Langley! He was definitely losing it.
Inside the Geni offices the operative smiled quietly to herself. Everything was on track. The capacity to account for incestuous family merges was reinstated on the tree, and Verushka Shepkovetsky's uploads were gaining a verifiable identity all its own in cyberspace, fool's paradise! The message had been sent to those who could read it: "The Fool" had begun his journey, and the Magician must now play his cards. Soon ‘Verushka’ would quietly emerge into the world - disarmingly stilettoed, in a manner so exquisite to suggest that she had to be algorithmically optimized with Phi powers to achieve this level of attraction.
Headquarters at Geni.com always hummed with frenetic activity, but it was unusually hectic this morning. It seemed curators were finding what appeared to be fake user accounts, and fake profiles. Particularly hard hit was the Historic Tree. And just to make the situation more incendiary, the curators too now seemed to be heating up the discussion threads with dissension. Random comments from some seemed to touch raw nerves in others. The well oiled curator team was starting to dissemble. A large part of the success the team had enjoyed thus far was due to their collaborative spirit, and their keen diplomacy under the most trying circumstances.
However, there wasn't much to celebrate lately. Stress? Or was someone unobtrusively pushing the right buttons to set everyone on edge? No, certainly that couldn't be the case. No doubt the team members were feeling the effects of the surprisingly greater than usual work load. Requests for help from users flooded in as a mega amount of merge conflicts filled their screens. Optimists by nature, they felt sure the situation would soon resolve. Little did they know, that this was just the beginning . . .
As he stepped into his Hertz rental in Manhattan, Niels Swanson was glad to speed out of New York, on his way to Damian's plush offices at Langley, Maryland. His interviews with veteran reporter Christiane Amapour and PBS's Charlie Rose had gone well, though Christiana had been relentless in her interrogation regarding the alleged rumors of a sensational Holy Grail find in Lourdes, France.
Congratulating himself for having survived unscathed. His impeccable demeanor had handsomely masked his increasing apprehension. Was the secret still safe? The airwaves were full of the French genealogist's gruesome murder in Cairo. It wouldn't be long now before the assassins would find their way to the scrolls and him.
The mole had to be among the uber-savvy hackers working for him at The Delphi Oracle, his monthly magazine. How else could this have happened? Damian would know what to do. Damian always knew what to do. Damian was privy to the western worlds's most critical secrets, cutting edge surveillance technology and all the power of Washington behind him. Lord, was he glad he had chosen to drive instead of flying on this beautiful day. However, as minute by minute gruesome reports from Cairo kept flooding the airwaves, and as Langley drew closer, Swanson grew increasingly alarmed.
Tensions were high also at the Armageddon Intergalactic Games. The agents of Evil from the Otherside - Dimension M were way ahead, 2 - 0. Nothing was going right for the clueless earthlings mindlessly updating their family trees on the immensely popular, award winning, cyber genealogy site, Geni.com. It certainly didn't look good for the agents of Good. The murder in Cairo---The chaos at Gen.com---Delphi Oracle's Holy Grail Line scroll leak---the odds were fast stacking up for a complete and utter annihilation of the earth.
A sinister cabal of oligarchs, high level government officials, and extremist religious leaders had instantly sprung into action as soon as word leaked out of the spectacular archeological find in Lourdes. Was it really possible? Could it really be true? Had an authentic ancient scroll revealing all the dark secrets suppressed and buried in the crucible of conflict through the Middle Ages been found?
The ramifications were too serious for the cabal leader to dismiss. He knew that they had to act now. All their carefully laid plans for world domination could be at stake if such a document had indeed been found. The two sisters would be tracked down. Their holy ancestor's divine powers would be resurrected and the the cabal's nefarious plot would certainly be thwarted. If truth and transparency were to rule in the world, they didn't stand a chance, and would be utterly defeated never to rise again.
The leader had no choice. Whether a rumor or not, the cabal had to begin the assault on freedom and democracy right now. Verushka's viral scourge of Gedcom uploads, along with the joker tarot cards had been their signal to terrorist sleeper cells around the world that Operation Davos was now underway.
CHAPTER V (1st draft )
Barely a few nice pleasantries had passed between them in the past two hours, as they made fast and furious love. Their passion fueled by her secret knowledge that this would be the last time---it was in the tarot cards---his by the sheer heady presence of their animal lust. They both thought that Rashad didn't know. but Rashad did know. He had begun to suspect Jeanne and Damian's mutual attraction long before their therapy sessions had devolved from the professional to the forbidden.
The first time had been a genuine surprise for both Jeanne and Damian. They had simultaneously bent down to pick up a fallen file, and had accidentally brushed hands. Both had been taken aback by the unexpected carnal jolt of electricity that passed between them. Her heart raced, as her knees buckled---a surge of sheer lust arose in Damian, as their eyes locked. It was at that moment that they instinctively realized a point of return had passed. Rashad had felt the charged atmosphere long before them, but had sincerely hoped he was wrong. Now he regretfully contemplated Damian's demise.
Hell, where on earth was Damian? They had set up this meeting at Langley weeks ago. Swanson was livid, Damian was never late. Spontaneously however, all his anger subsided as he noticed the ebony goddess, with a mane of luxurious dark long wild hair, deeply absorbed at Damian's computer. All was not lost! Damian's assistant Layla looked up flustered. "I am optimizing Damian's hardrive" she nervously said. Raising a mischievous eyebrow, Swanson couldn't resist ." Oh, he's under the desk?" The visit would be productive after all. . .
Access! Top level access! Damian was usually his means to it, but this was even better. "Layla, take pity on this kindly soul
help a starving man. . . ? I guess I'll settle for coffee and a bagel
it's a long drive back and I just wasted the ##@@!! day!"
Swanson knew Layla had no choice. Layla's stint with Damian could catapult her to high level CIA assignments. Damian's three muskeeters were an extension of Damian's network and her job, so needed to be treated with deference. Women rarely denied Swanson anything---his casual boyish charm, twinkling green eyes, white blonde hair were his secret cache of WMD
weapons of manipulative distraction!
All he required was five minutes alone with Damian's computer still running . . . then home and immediately off to Jerusalem to stash the Lourdes scrolls in plain site, where no one would ever find them!
Geni.com headquarters was on high alert. A new threat, zombies, even more potentially damaging than the Medici Gedcom scourge had been spotted invading the critical, ancient historical profile of Charlemagne royal lines.
However, now under zombie attack, Geni.com had no choice but to go off line while programmers created cutting edge, killer countermeasures to eradicate all such unscrupulous activity in the Dark Ages sovereign lines.
Synchronicity, or coincidence? The physical world seemed to follow the virtual realm's fall into chaos and confusion. Major banks started experiencing increased hacking activity. A diabolical plan for world domination via economic control, and media manipulation was underway. Just as Geni.com's integrity and accreditation in the world of genealogy was at stake
the fate of the world too hung in balance. Egregious mortals were battling for supremacy of prominent pedigrees in the virtual world, while the physical realm was similarly under attack by the heinous cabal, and both were cause of delight to the agents of evil from Dimension M, now leading with 3 - 0 score in the Othersider's intergalactic game of Armageddon.
Time to get going. The assassin, a stateless nomad, travelled not the ancient Silk Road of his name's sake, but the golden ghettos of power and privilege. The French genealogist at the Cairo convention had revealed a motherload of information before he was so artfully liquidated. Marco Phi Zendesko contemplated his his invitation to Davos, Switzerland to indulge in Verushka's extreme generosity, his reward for her sheer pleasure in his peerless elegant termination techniques.
The cabal leader smirked with satisfaction. "How exquisitely perfect?" The World Economic Forum of the global elite in Davos was a perfect cover for the umbrella of their super-powerful U.S. based transnational media/telecommunications /information technology consortium, Huxley A. Industries, to meet and discuss the unexpected sudden threat to their unspeakable plans by the alleged Lourdes scrolls find, which if authentic had the power to neutralize all evil on earth.
Verushka, the cabal's representative from Russia , and the leader's spectacular proxy mouthpiece, was due to arrive shortly from Dubai, had set the ball rolling, and now there was no turning back--world domination would soon be theirs.
They had the money, power and means to dictate global commercial values, control/create crises and skirmishes, manipulate the media, and stigmatize all cultural, religious, political or humanitarian endeavors that were contrary to the long-run bottom line of the cabal's corporate financial and political interests.
The leader remained anonymous even to Verushka. The cabal was just another toy in Janus' mind. Like Janus, the god of gates, doors, doorways, beginnings, endings and time, with two heads facing opposite directions, Janus the leader was not taking chances, and had patiently worked his way up through decades of rigorous academic research at Oxford, Betchley, Stanford, MIT to head the World Economic Forum's peerless elite think tank.
Second only to Klaus Schwab, the founder of WEF, Dr. Janus Wunderkind's warnings re global competitiveness and sustainability--though mandatory on the curriculum of the world's elite business schools---were constantly ignored. Janus laughed heartily and reveled at irony of providing the antidote to his very poison, and yet the world was too clueless to heed his cheat sheet. They could not see beyond their next glorified acquisition. He would pit all his cabal's resources against the world's top intellectuals, and he had no doubt who would win.
But, this Lourdes find, if true, that was an existential enigmatic problem no computer algorithm, or human intellect could overcome. If the descendants of the Holy Grail were alive and located, everything he ever worked for, and dreamt of attaining would be instanteously eradicated. Janus planned to secretly listen in as the assassin revealed his findings to Verushka--neither had the slightest grasp of what this Lourdes scroll could mean to the cabal's plans.
CHAPTER Vl (1st draft )
As Marco slowly worked his way to the elevator at the historic elegant Steigenberger Hotel in Davos, heads turned. The assassin was blessed with striking swarthy Mediterranean good looks, questioning bold bedroom eyes, exquisitely groomed close-cropped hair, a trim medium muscular body, and an intoxicating lithe sensual panther-like saunter disguising a frightening cold intellect. If only they knew . . .
Nothing about him was real except for his breathtaking animal magnetism---the genetic windfall he had inherited from strangers who in the mid '70's left a little 3 day old infant wrapped in the finest Egyptian cotton, on the doorstep of the ornate British Intelligence Victorian Mansion, in Betchley Park, secret home of British Intelligence and Alan Turing's Enigma codebreaking machine during WWll. Growing up in orphanages, Marco Phi Zendesko owed allegiance to no one, not even his favorite client.
Should Verushka be targeted for elimination, Zendesko would have no qualms---despite her generous hospitality, and the cool $million that she had paid for a hit as easy as the French genealogy conventioneer in Cairo. The comped boys would be fun, and leisurely pillow talk with the paid for $20,000/night captivating escorts would provide him with intimate insider knowledge of the world's power brokers, that no hacker could achieve.
The real appeal to the clients of these tantalizing contemporary courtesans, was not their high style allure, but their consumate focus. Escorts carefully mirrored empathy, while they artful listened---holding on to your every word--- and submissively fulfilled erotic fantasies that only the richest clientelle could afford. However, in Marco's case, the seducers would be . . . seduced, and it would be the escort's secrets that would be delicately laid bare.
Marco rarely spent money. Madoff's defense that the governments were nothing but big ponzi schemes rang true in Marco's mind, he would not hesitate to add that the world's financial markets and banks were too. His formidable liquid assets were in college funds for children of his victims, and young boys who left the life. Marco himself needed little. He lived virtually out of a suitcase. His office on memory cards. Paid cash for everything--luxury hotels, disposable cell phones, laptops, toxins, survelliance equipment, lethal hardware, bogus id's, latex masks and sundry--leaving no trail. He had no permanent address. Preferred to travel by train or car. Didn't use email. Was a master of disguise.
Currently, Marco Phi Zendesko could only be contacted via a a cryptic blurb encoded in the bio of a certain historic public profile on Geni.com. The elite few who could afford his services knew the highly popular and interactive genealogy site, and the prominent Danish royal profile which contained the cryptic cipher.
Layla was distraught. Her careful exploration of Damian's hard drive had confirmed her worst fears, he had been compromised. How should she handle this? She needed to ride him a while longer, to achieve her ambition---clearance for Langley's National Security Agency's secret Cryptologic Intelligence Department---her options appeared limited.
Layla had come a long way from the 10 year girl who escaped Ethiopia during the last tumultuous days of the Mengistu regime. Though not quite a goddess, legend had it that she was of Menelik I Ibn El-Hakim.
With her Nefertiti-like swan neck, exquisite cheek bones, luminous dark skin, and bewitching exotic eyes, she was often mistaken for super model Gelila Bekele. Layla didn't comprehend the magnitude of the situation, oblivious to everything but her ambition to rise above her humble beginnings, and seek revenge on those who ravaged defenseless poor third world countries, depriving millions of the dignity of even life itself.
Damian Earl had succumbed to momentary human frailty. The CIA- Homeland Security profiler, and avid geni.com profile hunter and code cipher was now hunted by demons of his own imagination, and was target of a cabal serf's unauthorized demonic designs.
In addition to his personal nightmare, The Cairo French genealogical conventioneer's murder had sparked a worldwide media frenzy, and thus a crisis of mammoth proportions for the western government guardians of peace, all organized religious leaders, despotic world dictators, and the unbeknownst covert terrorist cabal. Even The Watchers, the agents of good and evil from Dimension M) were stunned. The murder was a pivotal game changer.
The Vatican and church would be only the first card to fall in the eschatological house of cards if the Holy Grail descendants were found, and the powers of the disenfranchised revived
the rekindled infinite strength of the Jungian greater unconscious could quickly topple the gods of Dogmatism, Capitalism, Socialism and Fascism.
Altruism would ascend, and finally the world would be elevated with the transcendental potency of peace, unity and enlightenment, the only earthly force to neutralize all ego centric inventions.
Damian had flown first to review US government strategic assets in Saudia Arabia, and then straight to Egypt after his uneasy experience, and narrow escape in Johannesburg. Two of the three musketeers met him in Cairo---Ofir, Mossad's covert liaison to the CIA---undercover as a reuters reporter, and MI6's Mike Langstom representing neighbor France's interests .
A disguised Neils Swanson of The Delphi Oracle, the irresistable charmer and hacker extraodinaire, was making his way to Jerusalem to hide the incendiary culprit scrolls in plain sight while a team of his expert hackers and professional archeologists worked on deciphering copies of the Lourdes scroll. If time allowed he planned to meet up with his friends in Cairo, otherwise he had and urgent business to conclude with a quasi paramour in Davos this week. His "friend with benefits" from Huxley A. Industries was quickly becoming a dangerous liability.
Meanwhile, Layla's discreet but persistent calls to The Delphi Oracle Hague offices, and Swanson's bachelor apartment, went unacknowledged. Neils Swanson's cell phone number was privileged information which Layla hesitated to reveal she had purloined.
CHAPTER Vll (1st draft )
After the Lourdes scroll had arrived in Jerusalem, it had been immediately marked with a nano radio-frequency identification spychip, so that no matter what happened in the future, it's location could always be traced by satellite.
Neils Swanson had relinquished the entire operation of safeguarding the ancient Lourdes find to Ofir's father, Uriel Schaynerman, a revered retired general,veteran of war and peace negotiations, a politician respected by both friends and foe alike, and military intelligence offices the world over.
Schaynerman had arranged for the scroll to be surreptitiously placed among a myriad of similar looking hieroglyphic treasures in one of the many glass temperature controlled display cases featuring the Dead Sea Scrolls at the Israel Museum's heavily protected Shrine of the Book.
A decoy scroll had been completed ahead of time by Mossad's elite military intelligence from a supergrade digital copy. Bleached blank Dead Sea Scroll parchment with period ink and writing instruments had been used to create a scroll authentic in every detail except for another nano RFIS chip, and missing a few key passages. This was the copy Swanson would hand over gratis to the Université Charles-de-Gaulle's Institut de Papyrologie et d’Égyptologie for deciphering and safekeeping.
Neils Swanson, of the Delphi Oracle had received the original Lourdes Holy Grail scrolls from an elderly old-world master mason renovating the Our Lady of Lourdes Church stone floor. The mason knew that the magazine paid top price for news leads, no questions asked. In addition, the mason was secretly hoping that the find would make headlines and bring more tourism and business to Lourdes, thus provide an on-going bonus windfall to his family's tourist dives.
This was not the first antique the mason had pilfered and sold. But, the antiquities market in France, and indeed the world over, had dried up because of tightened government and police scrutiny.
Basking in the Syrian sun, a lazy camel caught Buga's eye. She was once again looking through the dusty window trying to recall the first time she remembered that she and her sister's were on a spiritual journey of some sort, but her recollection was sketchy. Had drunk too much, or was the memory still too painful?
She remembered long journeys, people they met on their travels, her companions, exotic villages with strange native dwellers. A tear fell as she remembered her sister, Vuga, who was so sick with Malaria during those travels and how she tried to comfort her.
She remembered coming on the edge of a rugged mountain and the view breaking up in front of them, blue skies touching the Mediterranean sea and shadowy islands in the distance. Her sister was already very weak, but she sat there for a while before turning to her with words: " this is so beautiful, what I was waiting for,", and she collapsed and died on her hands just as a golden bird crossed the sky.
Buga remembered saying to Tuga –" that bird is Vuga, she will now be with us forever." Buga and Tuga had dug a grave on that far mountain. Vuga now belonged here, a rocky grave her eternal nest.
These images kept flashing by, mirages of a distant reality, or was it even true? Buga thought back much further still, to the first time when on a summer day, as a little girl from a village near the ancient city of Turin in Italy, she was visiting her grandparents, and her uncle took her to the mountain where he had fields and orchards to look after.
She had wandered around the orchard, looking for the eels in the creek. Suddenly there was a golden shiny bird that flew above her. Her uncle had pointed to her, "look that is a golden Vuga, we haven't seen them in ages. The bird, was flying above their head, her golden feathers shining as the were made of gold.
And now, her sister village. They were so alone.
Technology had been their savior and contact with the outside world. The nuns of Blessed Virgin Mary, caretakers of the Basilica di Superga, had taken them in and taught them marketable skills---now they were backpacking their way to Bethlehem, on a pilgrimage of thanks in honor of the nuns' kindness.
The three sisters, each named after colorful birds, would stop at youth hostels and find work wherever they could. An old dell XP laptop, was their only significant extravagance. Obsessed with genealogy, they were trying to rebuild their lost family line on a free, and amazingly helpful genealogy site, Geni.com.
Suddenly, one day their Turin rooted tree had been co-opted, or merged, just as their ancestral hunt had reached back to France. Now it didn't seem like their tree anymore. Confused by the addition of Arabic names, German and Danish names, royalty and nobility, they were glad when Damian, the manager of the profile that triggered the tree merge, contacted them. He had fast become their genealogical mentor, friend and closest confidant.
The Vuga flew over their head few more times looking at them, as if to say, look at me, remember. You know who I am, and it is o.k. Seven years had passed since their sister died, and thirteen since they lost their family, yet it was like yesterday.
CHAPTER Vlll (1st draft )>>>>
Follow the money and inevitably you will find your way to the annual World Economic Forum at Davos, or the more secretive pre-emptive annual Alice-In-Wonderland world we live in had long ago come to depend on a heavy consumer driven market economy to finance their governments, major corporations and financial centers. Janus skillfully traversed an exquisite fine line catering equally to capitalist materialism and social altruism---always holding trump cards. Even the very stars seemed aligned in his favor. The nascent stirrings in the Mid East couldn't have come at a better time, as Janus' ultimate goal unbeknownst to the cabal, or WEF, was total control
Janus, the benevolant dictator who would finally create order in the world.
Neverthless, as his elegant high society wife, Anne Maria von Battenberg, whose family was closely related to Houdini-like, Janus possessed secrets that he alone would carry to the grave.
…."The breakdown of information boundaries by the social networking phenomena into a strategic new single digital demographic has an industry such as Huxley. A perfectly poised…."
Janus' every quiet measured word resonated through the auditorium. Janus rarely spoke in public, but when he did, not only was his every word as the guru of WEF's Think Tank deemed important, what he left out spoke equal volumes to the audience of Huxley A. moguls and media giants.
His talks were tantalizing, inspiring, stimulating, igniting the listener's imagination Machiavellian message would get through, Huxley. A. Media Consortium would decide to buy-out or partner with some of the major social networking platforms and gain dominance of this new strategic digital communications phenomena.
For a man who had virtually everything he could wish for, no one could imagine the vast loss that fueled Janus' infinite ambition. That seminal summer vacation in Paris in the mid '70's on a break from research at Betchley. The bliss and ecstasy. The rapture that had subsequently turned to agony as he mindlessly and madly searched the world over to find that elusive love again.
They had been wildly passionate, blind to all but each other. Only reluctantly had they made time to gaily explore the magical Paris of lovers, both above ground and the astonishing illicit Parisian Catacombs, the subterranean 170 miles of tunnels, caves, occasional art galleries and eateries that underlie large parts of Paris. Janus caught himself, and turned his mind back to focus on the lecture he was presenting. Even Janus Wunderkind felt was beginning to unfold, but this he did not mention, as the mammoth global media conglomerate, Huxley A. Industries, was just one of the many decoy puppet pawns Janus had in play.
The swarthy Verushka's hotel suite to capture their debriefing.
The Egyptian Revolution had escalated overnight, completely eradicating the gruesome crime scene in the Egyptian Museum of the murdered French high level genealogy convention delegate. All foreigners were ordered to evacuate. Uriel Schaynerman could find more suitable coverage.
Thus Damian's reunion with his three musketeers was abruptly cut short by the Egyptian protest, leaving him frustrated, and more deeply disturbed than ever. They had been his only hope for escape from his threatening exposure---his friends would have known how to track down and quietly eliminate the villainous source.
"Eeerie", mumbled Damian to himself, his mind racing in all directions, "was the Papyrus Revolution"--- the uncanny coincidental popular name for the Days of Rage protest---"synchronicity?" "Had it not been some sort of papyrus scroll that had instigated the murder they were all here to investigate?" Fortunately, an urgent call from Homeland Security interrupted his increasingly unbalanced racing thoughts. Damian was directed to immediately return home for some high level meetings in Washington.
CHAPTER lX (1st draft )
Showdown: Old friends collide
Just as assassin's sensual signature panther-like saunter towards the exit, turning all heads his direction. The gods were indeed with Marco--his cover would have been instantly blown had Swanson glanced up and recognized him. In 1994, Marco Zendesko's pre elite-assassin days, they had collided into each other, both were seperately investigating a major prostitute trafficking operation in Swaziland--Swanson as Sweden's Dagens Nyheter's fledgling intern journalist looking for his big break, and Marco as a rookie operative for Britain's M16 but fronting as a BBC foreign correspondent.
Aaaah... Verushka, the Swaziland operation had also been the genesis for their tricky business venture. Marco recalled that her ambition had already known no boundaries in those halycon heady days. Verushka's supply and sources were endless for she had been covertly recruited from within the very victim ranks where she had once been a member by duress. Because both of them had been disposable, irrelevant and maltreated by their handlers, and had no family who cared whether they lived or died, they had bonded. A move which subsequently helped save both their lives.
Marco discovered that Verushka's father, an inakomysliachii (intellectual dissident) under Leonid Brezhnev had been forcibly sent to prison camp in 1975, plied with mind altering drugs that quickly drove him insane and subsequently he committed suicide. His wife, Tatyana, penniless, with a year old precocious bright eyed, bubbly Verushka to take care of abandoned her doctoral studies and humbly went to work cleaning homes and ironing for leaders of the hated totalitarian regime taking her little bright eyed daughter along. So, this little budding siren grew up and summered in in the homes and dachas of top Soviet officials, utterly seducing everyone with her intelligence, dangerous beauty, stunning self confidence and regal bearing.
There was even family legend that Verushka's father had connections to the Royal Romanovs. Her mother, Tatyana, died in a mysterious mugging. No one was ever apprehended, but Verushka at age fourteen became the ward of the head of the KGB. Making the best of situation, Verushka learnt the art of lovemaking from one of the most powerful men in the Soviet Union. She perhaps mistakenly concluded the extent of her power as she completely infatuated the Director, he was hopelessly smitten with the elixir of her dewy supple youth and her eagerness to please.
At sixteen Verushka tired of the game, and began demanding more out of life. She wanted to see the world, to study in the university and to be free to mix and mingle with peers. Unfortunately, her increased preoccupation, noticable distancing, and new foreign ideas enraged General Viktor Pietrokov, who decided to teach her a lesson and have her sent to the same Gulag-administered prison labor camp her father had perished in.
Whether it was luck, or destiny, General Pietrokov suddenly disappeared overnight never to be heard from again, and Verushka woke up one morning to find herself enslaved targeted for sexual exploitation in an insidious multibillion dollar organized mafiya trafficking ring catering to the huge global sex industry.
Because nothing ever escaped the assassin's eidetic memory, much about Verushka's story was beginning to not add up. Soon he would find out how stunningly deceived he had been. Swanson's appearance on the scene at Davos would radically change everything. As he was about to leave the hotel, the hair on the back of his neck stiffened as Marco Zendesko's earlier alien feeling escalated to full blown dread. In a flash he recalled that one ice cube in his single malt scotch had never melted . . . and now his extremities were starting to tingle, flushed, sweating, barely able to breath, abandoning caution, he called out, "Swanson!". Neils Swanson turned around just as the assassins magnificent graceful sinewy body clutched him, and with herculean effort pulled Swanson out the door.
The Othersider's were at an impasse, as the intergalactic Game of Armageddon referees were stymied how to score the attempted "liquidation" of an assassin. Another confusing question was the growing wave of revolutionary protests, ie. the Arab Spring demonstrations all over the world. There was gridlock between the agents of Good and Evil from Dimension M regarding this issue too.
A consensus was reached by the Othersiders, that representatives be chosen from both sides to grapple with the great existential philosophical questions arising from war, even if it is waged to ostensibly to gain liberty and freedom---or whether the murder of a contract killer is a positive or negative action?
Otherwise a winning point had never been more positive for the agents of Good, as the collaborative and collegial spirit on Geni.com was permeating the world, increasing global unity and enhancing cooperation between all the nations with members on the site.
CHAPTER X (1st draft )
From Davos to Dubai, to Dr. Jeanne du Plessis, the world renown South African psychoanalyst, sudden disappearance flooded the airwaves. The therapist to the powerbroker's and elite of the world had simply vanished. Her files were gone, the office wiped pristine clean of the tiniest shred of evidence, not even a trace feather of her beloved parrot Issis, or a hair of her loyal assistant could be found. The baffled South African police authorities were inundated by offers ( or rather demands) by secret service organizations around the world to join in their investigation to help locate the missing doctor and her files.
A leading CERN experimental physicist working on an off-the grid cooperative supercomputer in Geneva vanished simultaneously with the South African psychoanalyst, however this fact barely registered on the media's radar. Nevertheless , many Davos conventioneers were keenly aware and deeply disturbed by the idea that the two disappearances might in fact be connected---coincidences did not exist at their level of success.
After a heart pounding, mind bending, toe curling welcome kiss, Dominique Strauss-Kahn of the International Monetary Fund keep the European economy afloat. The fact that the cost of those two Birkin bags alone could sustain a small African village for a year was not lost on Janus WEF's renown economist and second in command.
Dr. Jeanne du Plessis had suddenly closed her elite South African office two days ago leaving not a trace behind. Assuming a complete new identity to leave the country, and changing her appearance she had seemingly vanished into thin air. Janus, sensing a major security breach developing decided to immediately call in his "intelligence assets" to investigate the situation fully.
Thought to perhaps be clairvoyant, Jeanne's assistant Rashad had taken emergency medical leave the day before her departure was the official take on the matter, others not being privy to the fact that a whole team of operatives had been in place to keep tabs on the highly confidential South African operation for Janus. Jeanne du Plessis' files were key to a "benevolent dictator" world domination strategy headed by Janus, and his secret sect colleagues.
Huxley A. Media Consortium was set to implode, but only the Artificial Intelligence Maestro, Janus, was privy to this shocking fact. Withdrawing Rashad and the "clean up crew" from Johannesburgh, as well as his CERN operative had set into motion a series of cataclysmic events that would forever change the casual way the world was run, toppling beyond repair the consummate trust people had in world, academic and corporate leaders. Yet Janus was troubled, the Holy Grail Scroll was a wildcard that had the potential to undermine his life's work. It had to be destroyed, and any Grail descendants hunted down.
Why the %%@&&*! had Verushka not called in? Perplexed by the failure to video tape Verushka's meeting with her assassin hit man, Janus was beginning to suspect that perhaps his control over Verushka was slipping. Rashad needed to be debriefed immediately and prepared for an emergency Paris assignment before Anne Maria returned. Time was of the essence! However, his mind quickly wandered back to the exquisite pleasures only his "friend" knew how to provide.
CHAPTER Xl (1st draft )
Leaning Tower of Babel
Dr. Janus Wunderkind, AI maestro, always knew that there were other contenders sniffing around also vying for control of the world's digital Tower of Babel. Yet, comforted by the knowledge that he alone as head of the World Economic Forum, and Huxley A. Media Consortium shadow overlord, plus hackster par excellence, possessed the peerless credentials to access, both overtly and covertly at the highest levels, the world's vast virtual treasure vaults of obscure deeply classified intel on uber-sensitive government sponsored military research projects, dark ops intelligence and secret bank accounts.
In addition, was he not also master puppeteer to a global cabal of seemingly independent rogue operators, hidden assets situated in the highest positions, who he could manipulate at will to carry out any necessary hands-on housekeeping operations? So how had his airtight electronic and human intel grid failed?
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