Six years have passed since Dr. Hansen, Joseph, Karen and David escaped from the United States and took refuge in Argentina, where they lead a quiet life away from the memory of the violent events in New York. Peace of mind that will no longer be such, since in that city, an important businessman contacts the now private detectives Mark Forney and Doris Ventura with a very specific request: to locate Dr. Hansen and Joseph, under the pretext of protecting the latter and have reliable information that a recognized terrorist group will carry out a violent attack if the clone child of Jesus is not delivered to them to sacrifice him live before the world. Suspicious, they will accept the order without knowing that after that request a dangerous conspiracy is brewing that will put them in the middle of a conflict on a global scale, with the governments of the United States, Israel, Iran, the Vatican (with the first black Pope in its history) and others, and a very powerful secret brotherhood fighting to have the clone boy under their power. Conspiracy that little by little will reveal the dark interests of world domination by those involved in the conflict. Second book of the trilogy, where the author skillfully handles the birth and evolution of the conspiracy around the clone boy, now eleven years old, who is more aware of his origin and of his role in the world, but without being able to avoid that by his cause occurs terrible acts of violence against humanity, as part of that conspiracy.
view moreBuenos Aires, Argentina.
The flight had departed around midnight the day before and despite being sleepy they couldn't get much sleep. The journey went smoothly despite how long she considered it had been. Only when they were passing through the A****n did they feel some turbulence, and that made the girl a little uneasy. She told her that was normal when they traveled by plane and she calmed down. As always, Julianne gave her the security and confidence she needed when she was feeling uneasy or worried about something. Despite not being her mother, she raised her as if she were, especially when her brother strongly asked her to do it for him. She considered herself his mother, having had her under her care practically since she was born.
And to Marianne she was her mother.
The captain announced over the loudspeakers in English and Spanish they were approaching the airport and began the descent maneuvers for the landing, ordering the passengers to fasten their seat belts. Through the window, Marianne watched the city approach little by little, and although she felt uneasy again from the sensation in her stomach every time the plane descended, she did not say anything to her mother and clutched her hand firmly on her arm. Julianne felt the girl’s hand on her arm and held her in turn with her hand, giving her a slight reassuring smile. Finally the plane landed and they left happy to have finished the long journey from the United States.
The Ezeiza "Minister Pistarini" international airport in Buenos Aires is the most important in Argentina. And also the biggest. They had to go through several sections before reaching where they had to look for their bags, and then two more sections to get through customs. Once their passports had been stamped, they went to the terminal, where they set out to look for the person who should be waiting for them. His brother had told her that he would not be able to receive them himself and he would send someone to do so, so she searched among the people with the little signs for whoever had her name, and after a few seconds she found him. He was a tall and somewhat stout young man, and she went to where he was, but when they reached him she noticed he was accompanied by another man and a boy about the same age as Marianne, and for a moment she did not recognize him. Only when she was close to him did she realize he was her brother, and dropping the suitcase she ran to meet him, happy.
"Julius!" She exclaimed with joy, hugging him. “How long!”
Dr. Julius Hansen kissed his sister on the cheek, visibly moved.
"Eleven years, my dear," he told her. “Eleven years!”
"You are very changed! Although I admit you look very good.”
"Well, the early retirement has forced me to have no more worries. I guess that's what makes me look good.”
"You said you wouldn’t come pick us up," Julianne demanded. “You’re a liar!”
"I wanted to surprise you."
He hugged her again, and when they parted he introduced her to those who accompanied him.
"He is David Cranston, and this handsome boy here is Joseph, my son." He stroked the boy’s head.
"It’s a pleasure to meet you, ma’am," David said, shaking her hand. “How was your flight?”
"Wow, exhausting! We went out last night and look at the time we have arrived.”
Joseph stepped forward, looking at her.
"It's nice to finally meet you, aunt," he said, hugging her. Julianne returned the hug, somewhat excited. She looked at his brother and he could understand in his eyes what she was thinking, so he shook his head slightly. She understood it was not the time to talk about the child. She knew everything that had happened to his brother and the boy six years ago, and although she wanted to communicate with him, she was never able to do so at that time. She was only able to calm down a year after all that commotion, when her brother called her and told her that he was fine and safe, promising they would meet again when the time was right, and that moment had already come, so also excited, she was very happy to find him and the child safe and sound.
Dr. Hansen noticed the girl and leaned in front of her. Julianne realized that she hadn’t introduced her.
"This is Marianne," she said, "your niece."
Dr. Hansen looked at the girl for a few seconds, detailing her. He caressed her cheek with his hand, then smiled. She was a very beautiful girl, with large light brown eyes and long light brown hair. The color of her skin caught his eye: she was light brown.
"It’s a pleasure, little princess," he said at last.
"Hello, uncle." Marianne was a bit shy, since it was the first time she saw the uncle her mother talked about so much. Joseph walked over to her and hugged her.
"I’m glad to finally meet you," he said, almost silently. She smiled at him.
“I am happy to meet you too.”
Dr. Hansen stood up and rubbed his hands together.
"Well, it’s time to go. You will love the house we live in, and even more you will love where it is. Let’s go!”
They left the terminal and headed for the parking lot. In a few minutes they were boarding a Volkswagen Suran and leaving the airport, heading for the city. It was already noon.
New York, USA.
He had finished uploading the photos he had taken earlier that day to the computer when the doorbell rang. He pushed the button under his desk and the electric lock allowed the office door to slide open, giving way to a woman busy with two bags of hamburgers and two Coke. She closed as best she could and put the bags on the desk, then sat in one of the chairs in front of it and prepared to eat, taking one of the hamburgers from one bag, and a soda from the other. He looked up and watched her for a few seconds. She noticed and stared at him.
“What?” She asked, hamburger in hand.
"I told you not to eat at my desk," he demanded. “You always leave it full of stains and food.”
Doris ignored him and took a bite out of the hamburger. He had no choice but to take his and start eating too, resigned.
After letting Dr. Hansen, David Cranston and Joseph go, things did not turn out in the best way for Mark Forney and Doris Ventura. Despite having an excellent record as NYPD homicide detectives, they were not forgiven for helping those people escape and were removed from their positions, regardless of whether Captain Mulligan advocated for them until the fatigue. The president of the United States had exploded into a rage upon learning of this and that was enough to end their careers. Now they were working as private detectives and there were very few cases for which they were hired. After a brief period of drought, they were commissioned by an important banker to watch over his wife, whom he suspected was cheating on him, and although it was not what they liked to do the most, they accepted, and that morning they had taken the first photographic evidences of the infidelity, which he was loading at that moment in the computer.
"This woman is amazing," Mark said, pointing to the monitor screen and referring to the woman they were watching. “Not ten minutes have passed since her husband left, when the lover disguised as a cable technician arrives.”
"Not to mention that the cable gets damaged every day," Doris said, still chewing a piece of food, "and it’s the same guy who appears to ‘fix it’," she emphasized the latter with a smile.
Mark shook his head. The banker and his wife lived in an exclusive area on the outskirts of New York, where each residence despite being next to each other, was separated by large tracts of land, with swimming pools, country clubs and even stables, so there was no opportunity for any neighbor to spy on the other, thus exposing the deception that took place day by day in the place. They already had a week and a half of surveillance on their target and there was no doubt the woman was cheating on her husband. However, and despite the photos taken outside the residence, they should have more evidence of infidelity in full swing, so they must risk entering the vicinity of the house and get more photos much closer, or at least with both protagonists having some physical contact that shows they are having an affair. For this, they must count on the husband to facilitate their entry to the property, give them the access code for the main gate of the perimeter fence, and thus access without problems once the "technician" has entered and is in full “repair” work.
"We must call the ‘cuckold’ to give us the key," Doris said with food still in her mouth.
"Yes, I’ll do it later. Remind me to do it before we go.”
The doorbell rang. Both stared at each other puzzled, since no one used to go to their agency at that time of noon. Mark pushed his burger aside, took a sip of Coke, and wiped his hands. Doris got up from her chair, took the rest of her burger and Mark’s and put them on the executive fridge in the corner next to the two sodas. Then she cleaned herself up a bit and stood next to Mark, who pressed a button under his desk. The electric lock on the door gave way to three men in suits and ties. For a moment they seemed to Mark to be businessmen, but the scowl and the way two of them stood on either side of the door and behind the one in the middle made him realize they weren’t. The man in the middle, well into his fifties, approached the desk and sat down in the chair Doris had occupied a few seconds before.
"Good afternoon, gentlemen," Mark greeted them. “What can we do for you?”
The man took a look around, and then looked at Mark. There was no expression on his face. Doris put a hand on Mark’s shoulder, signaling she was ready for anything. The man saw the movement and for a few seconds he outlined a slight smile.
"You don’t have to feel nervous, miss Ventura," the man told her. “We are not what you think. We are here on behalf of Mr. Philip Richmond, who asked us to come to you to help us locate a person. Two, actually.”
"Okay," Mark said. “I see you already know us. And who are these people that you want us to locate you?”
"One is the clone boy, Joseph. You helped Dr. Hansen five years ago escape government custody with the boy, and it cost you your careers. We are here on behalf of Mr. Richmond to tell us where they went, and for that information he is willing to pay you handsomely.”
“And how much are we talking about?” Doris asked, then Mark raised his hand asking her to be quiet.
“And is it possible to know why this sudden interest of your client in the child, after all these years?" Mark didn’t trust those men, and apart from that he didn’t want to break the trust Hansen had placed in them when they helped them escape and stay away from people like those who wanted to find them.
"That is a matter that only interests our client, Mr. Forney." The man smiled slightly, and then turned to Doris: “and in response to your question, miss Ventura, my client authorized me to offer a minimum amount of one million dollars, each, if that information leads him to find the child.”
Doris cleared her throat and squeezed Mark’s shoulder. He felt the squeeze and slowly removed his hand from her shoulder.
"It’s a very generous offer, sir ..." Mark paused, waiting for the man to tell him his name, but he didn’t, so he continued: “unfortunately we don’t have that information. The day you say we helped Dr. Hansen escape he didn’t tell us where he was going. We just paid him a taxi and they left. As simple as that.”
Mark felt Doris put her hand on his shoulder again and squeezed again. The man in front of them looked amused by what he was seeing and leaned forward in his chair, staring into Mark’s eyes.
“Two million, each. He is willing to pay that amount for the information that leads him to find Hansen and the child.”
Doris felt like she was going to faint and squeezed Mark’s shoulder tighter. He removed his hand again, this time with a little more difficulty. The man smiled again.
“Your friend is going to faint. It’s convenient for you to give us that information, it’s a lot of money we are talking about.”
Mark stared at him for a few seconds, and then leaned forward as well, holding his gaze.
“I repeat: we don’t have that information. Tell Mr. Richmond he’s wasting his time with us.”
The man looked at him for a few more seconds and stopped smiling. Then he leaned back in his chair, looked down, and fumbled in his suit pocket for something. He pulled out a cell phone and dialed a number. He waited a few seconds, until someone in the other end of the line answered him.
"As you said, sir. They refuse to give us the information. Or they really don’t have it.”
He listened for a few seconds to his interlocutor, closed the communication and gave a frank glance to the two former detectives of the New York police.
"Mr. Richmond cordially invites you to his residence to personally discuss the matter."
"Well, tell him we’ll be there early tomorrow." Mark reached for a notepad, tore out a piece of paper, and took out a pen. “Tell me the address.”
"He’s waiting for you right now," the man told him. “Please come with us.”
Mark was puzzled. He smirked and dropped the pen.
"Excuse me, but we’re having lunch. In addition, we have pending work. I don’t think...”
"Your client already has accurate information about his wife’s deception," the man interrupted. “A few minutes ago one of our men spoke to your client and gave him the evidence he needed. You can consider the case closed.”
This time it was Doris who was dazed and faced him.
“How do you know about our case, and who told you to intervene?”
"We have been observing you for days. We know about your case and how little you have done so far. Mr. Richmond ordered us to assist you in closing your investigation and being available to work for him, should your response to his initial proposal be negative.”
“And what makes you think we would work for him?”
The man looked at him for a few seconds before answering him.
"Please detectives ... can I call you detectives? Mr. Richmond is waiting for you. I suggest that you first listen to what he has to say and then decide what to do.”
After saying that, he got up from his chair and adjusted his suit.
"Can we go now?"
Tel Aviv, Israel.Justin had taken advantage of the fact that his friends were already drunk when he decided to leave the bar to find a quiet place to try to call his country. He had stolen one of his companions' jeeps and already was on the outskirts of Tel Aviv when he saw in the distance what appeared to be two missiles traveling through the Israeli sky, almost at the same time, and after a few seconds slightly take two different directions approaching the ground. Within seconds he heard a loud bang and saw a huge cloud of smoke and dust rise. In the bar he had heard one of his former colleagues say that the stolen missiles had already been launched against Iran, so he assumed that those that had just hit the city had been launched by Iran in response to the initial attack.He pulled off the road and stopped about two hundred yards from it in the middle of the barren landscape. It was already waning the afternoon. He took the satellite p
Tel Aviv, Israel. In an old shack built in the middle of the desert on the outskirts of Tel Aviv, the group of mercenaries who had lost their nuclear weapons regrouped around the commander of the operation and the rest of their companions, obfuscated by the audacity of the Israelis. The commander, an African-American man with an imposing presence, had just given the news to their client, throwing the satellite phone on the table he was sitting at. He looked closely at his men and after a few seconds that seemed like an eternity to everyone, he got up and said, resting his fists on the table:“Gentlemen, I have informed our client of the latest events, and to my surprise, he has taken it very well, to the point that he has ordered us to leave the country immediately.”“¿And the rest of the payment?” One of the men asked.“The rest of the money is being deposited at the moment in the accounts of e
Tel Aviv, Israel.The five men had talked animatedly for a few minutes in one of the rooms of the old house on the outskirts of town. Abinadab was outside waiting, heard a car stop in front of the house, looked out the window and saw three men coming out of it. He recognized them and hurried to open the door for them, letting them in. Prior to the closure he made sure there was no suspicious person on the street.“Where are they?” One of them asked.“In that room,” Abinadab pointed to one of the rooms. The three men entered the room and found the other Israelis sitting on the floor in a rug, immediately ending the conversation.“Our friends, the gringos!” One of them said, the leader of the group. “Come on! Come on! Sit down with us.”The newcomers sat down next to them.“We heard there was a problem with the missiles,” the American leader said in
Washington, USA.Collins could hardly fall asleep, but he did not sleep enough because before dawn he was awakened by an urgent call from the Secretary General and Chairman of the NATO Military Committee, the Englishman Frederick Williamson, and Italian Admiral Guido Martinengo, respectively. Upon reaching the telepresence room, he found both characters on either side of the big screen in front of him."I apologize for being late, gentlemen," justified Collins, sitting in the chair behind the large table in the center of the room. “Has NATO already taken a position on the conflict in the Middle East?”"Greetings, Mr. President," Williamson told him. “We are calling you to inform you that Turkey has asked the Council to activate security and defense protocols for its nation, arguing that it could soon be the target of attacks by Israel.”“I understand that Turkey is already mobilizing its troops. W
Chihuahuan Desert, Texas, USA.The night before had been too busy in the complex and Hansen could not sleep well, worried about the constant arrival of more guests. When he was about to go out for breakfast, there was a knock on his room door; he opened it and was met by the smiling figure of Harvey. This time Hansen thought it was a forced smile."Mr. Richmond is waiting for you in his private study. Please follow me.”“You hadn’t told me that he had a private study.”“I didn’t it because it isn’t available to you.” Harvey said solemnly as they descended the stairs. “Besides Mr. Richmond’s room, of course.”Hansen found that comment a bit rude, but understood he was in no position to reply, at least not yet. They went through the spacious living room to the southwest corner and they found a kind of corridor, also wide, which ended in a kind of reading ro
Washington, USA.The press conference had not been easy for Collins. They literally peppered him with questions as soon as he stepped onto the press room and, although he expected it, he was not fully prepared to face the suspicion of journalists, and even more so when the only suspects in the attacks were dead. At first, he tried to focus on his government's efforts to end the national emergency due to the attacks, but could not, since one of the journalists asked him for his opinion about what was happening in the Middle East and only said that his diplomatic corps was in talks with several countries to avoid a war in the region, and the whole press conference went there. He expressed surprise at Israel's nuclear weapons and the theft of them, and commented he had offered help to find them.“Do you think they can find them before they are used by those who stole them, as for example, against the USA, hypothetically speaking?&rdqu
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