 
Gateway To Heaven

by Maggie Diak

Published by Maggie Diak at Smashwords

Copyright© 2016 Maggie Diak

ACKNOWLEDGEMENT

The novel is based on my husband's theories (with his permission of course) of what letters, words and languages can reveal about our past, present and future. His ideas and discoveries are unique, which means that before him they have never been told or discovered by anybody else in the whole world. That's why they make my novel unique as well.

Let mi quote the blurb written for the cover by my Slovenian publisher: " A compelling story that will attract you more than Da Vince's Code..."

Many thanks to my husband Valentin Cundric.

1.

With his hands on his back, his lips curled contemptuously, his eyes staring blankly at the floor tiles under his feet, J.E. nervously paced around the room, his Belgian police office in fact.

Four young officers, standing in a line by the wall, watched each of his movements with fear. He suddenly stopped in front of them, eyed each of them from head to foot and not trying to hide his disdain for them, shouted: "You are the stupidest, the laziest scums I've ever met in my life! You don't deserve to serve this country!" He paused, pointed at himself with his finger and continued as if he were spitting the words at the officers: "When I was young, I knew what duty was. I knew order and discipline. You don't have the slightest idea about them. You don't feel any respect for your country. For your own nation! You care a damn if day by day more and more foreigners come trampling on our land, behaving as if it was theirs! Where, for God's sake, is your national pride? When I was young this land was sacred to us, to you it means nothing!"

Taking a deep breath, he pointed with his finger out the window. "As a child I was running up and down the Brussels streets believing they were mine. Ours. Belgian! I was meeting our people. You could hear nothing but our language. But just look at our streets now. No Belgian kid is playing on them anymore. We've been driven to the country! Into ghettos! So that here, on our streets, mob, hordes from all over the world can strut like peacocks. Their rags, which they call flags, are hanging from the windows of some of our most gorgeous houses. There shouldn't be any flags but ours. Our streets resemble runways, closed for us and open to the foreign peacocks. Just have a look at their black limousines. What are they hiding behind the tinted windows? Black faces, yellow faces, slanting eyes, barbarians, who are and will forever remain barbarians despite their shiny limousines. Mob!"

Turning back to the officers, he added with contempt: "But you, the young, have sold your pride. You turned into lackeys. Into the tools of the rabble and thus help them ruin our country. Yours too, not only mine. Step-by-step. However, you are too stupid to be aware of that!"

He paused, knowing that silence would give an additional weight to his words. Then he added scornfully: "But remember! You are not only bad Belgians; you are bad lackeys as well. Do you know what would have happened if I hadn't been here today? Your masters over there," he pointed to the Grand Palace in which European parliamentary sessions were often held, "would be flying in pieces through the air and you, humble servants would be picking up parts of their bodies all over Brussels, shoving them into black plastic bags! But let me make myself clear. I did not prevent the terrorist attack to save their foreign buttocks, I'm not such a fool. I prevented it to save our beautiful building, our Belgian pride! I saved the building! Belgian property that you fool, are so happy to offer to different skunks from all over the world!"

He resumed pacing the office but soon stopped in front of them again. "And where were you when I was chasing the terrorists all over France and Belgium? Here in the canteen drinking coffee and beer! Laughing. Enjoying yourselves. Giving a damn what's happening to your country, to your city!"

He was red in the face, his lips trembled, his fists were clenched. I was afraid he would give the nearest officer a slap across his face. But thanks to, I don't know which thought of his, he didn't do it, instead he flung himself on a chair, bellowing to the officer he had just restrained from punching into the face, to fetch the Foreigner. "I'll question him first. All the others out!"

"You, "he pointed to me, "stay here!"

At that moment, I was happy that Kate was no longer with me. Luckily, she had returned home two days ago. The Foreigner that J.E. wanted to question first, was namely her husband. His name was Peter Otrin. He was a professor of linguistics by profession, his students never called him otherwise than Professor, to J.E. he was the Foreigner. The Undesired!

Yes, I was happy Kate was not with us. Not only because she too would have landed at this police station with the threat of staying behind the bars for the rest of her life like we all were, I was happy mostly because I was spared her accusing look saying: "You promised! You said you would rescue my husband but instead you brought us all into the jail."

And she would be right. I failed. I did promise Kate to bring Peter home. However, things went wrong, but not by my fault and we were all taken captives by the insane Belgian detective J.E.

It looked bad, hopeless, scary, nevertheless, I was firmly convinced that I was going to find a way out. Not only for me, for Peter, Kate's wife, for Isabelle, Maurice and Mary as well.

2.

I took the case because of my wife. She wouldn't leave me in peace. I kept telling her that I wasn't a criminologist but a retired police officer, however, it was all in vain. Stubbornly, she insisted on getting my police badge back, at least for this case. For, she kept arguing with me, one ought to help his friends in need, oughtn't he? Moreover, if those friends trust you, which her friend did. She trusted me more than anybody had ever trusted me. I should be grateful for that!

"How on Earth can she trust me if she doesn't even know me!" I exclaimed.

"Because she knows me," was her answer. So I learned that my wife was a guarantee for my quality!

"Okay," I gave in, believing that a fictitious yielding was the fastest way to get rid of her and her friend, "I am ready to listen to you and give my opinion but that's all. I won't take the case."

Her face lit up. And when she said, with a foxy expression in her eyes, 'of course, my dear', it became clear to me that I had let myself be caught in a snare. It again slipped my mind that if you give a woman an inch, she'll take a mile.

"Kate's husband, you know Kate, my friend, don't you," she started, sitting opposite me, and I nodded although as far as I knew I have never met her friend Kate, "traveled to France a few days ago. The first three days he answered her calls regularly. But two days ago his cell phone went dead. She can't call him and he does not call her. She is dead worried..."

I burst into laughter. "He hasn't called, or rather answered her calls for two days and you start panicking? Are you out of your mind, woman? Let him breathe, for God's sake!"

"You don't understand, Tibor, Kate is convinced that something bad must have happened to him. He is not that kind of a man, "with 'that kind of a man' she meant me, of course," who doesn't bother to call his wife when he is away. Or who even turns the phone off! He didn't turn his cell off, Tibor, somebody else must have done it!"

"But two days don't mean any danger!" I insisted.

She looked at me in disgust. "How can you be so merciless? So... so... inhuman? Just imagine I disappeared suddenly! How would you feel if nobody wanted to help you? How?"

I'll never be so lucky to find that out, I thought to myself. "Tell me more," I said loudly.

"Peter was invited to lecture at the Sorbonne University. He's such a great scientist, you know. He has written many books. On the other hand, he, like all scholars, gets completely lost in everyday life. Kate must guide each of his steps."

Another henpecked husband I thought but kept this to myself too. I must say that after forty years of marriage I'm stuffed with suppressed remarks.

"They were in touch as I have told you," she continued and then corrected herself, "I mean she called him every ten minutes to check on him. To ask him if he was all right and that sort of things, you know..."

She fell silent for a moment, her mouth twisted in anxiety. I have never seen her to be so worried about me. "He is used to being watched over by her day and night and now he was suddenly left completely alone," she resumed. "Kate felt she had to give him exact instructions over the phone, where he should go, what he should say, what he should do. You know, Peter has never traveled anywhere by himself and ..."

I stopped listening. I knew enough. If I were Peter, I would have done the same. I'd dump the phone somewhere or trample it so that she could not reach me.

"What will you do?"

My wife's worried voice brought me back to her.

"Nothing," I said. "Because there is nothing wrong with your friend's husband. He probably needs peace to prepare his lectures. When he's ready, he'll call her. Tell her to wait for his call and stop worrying."

She wasn't even listening to me! Leaning across the table, fixing her gaze upon my face, she said sweetly: "You probably know somebody who could contact somebody in France and ask him to go and find Peter and tell him his wife was worried?"

I've always known that women had fewer brains than chickens, but not as few!

"Do you think that people here and over there in France do nothing but wait to be ordered by me to run to a Mr. Otrin to tell him how worried his wife is? You are completely crazy!"

"But you must have some connections," she insisted. "You've been working with important people for all your life. I'm sure they'll help you if you ask them."

"I'm not going to ask anybody anything," I yelled. I completely lost my temper. "I told you I'll not act! All I want is peace! Peace to enjoy my deserved retirement! Peace to do what I have always wanted to do: make figures of wood!"

As a child I used to chisel a lot, later there was no time for that and now I should give up my hobby for an Otrin?

In vain! All my yelling, all my excuses, reasonable arguments were in vain!

"Talk to her at least," she pleaded. "Listen to her and then decide!"

"No! I have listened to you and I know your friend's husband is just fine. Tell her that and leave me alone!"

Two hours later Kate was at our door and a few minutes later she was sitting in our sitting room opposite me!

She had a tall, slim, as far as I could see still, despite her age, firm figure. In my opinion she might be quite pretty if her eyes were not red with weeping and if she were not so nervous.

"What worries me," she said without being invited to say anything, "is that Peter's suitcase was stolen." Her voice was mild, quiet, almost whispering.

That information took me by surprise. My wife had not mentioned a stolen suitcase. "Stolen? Where? How?"

"At the Paris airport. The woman who was sitting next to him in the plane had stolen it."

"A woman who was sitting next to him?" I repeated. "How does he know? I mean, if he knows, why doesn't he take it from her? Or call the police...?"

"He did," answered Kate crestfallen. "The police have been looking for her since then, but she seems to have disappeared in thin air! Together with the suitcase."

"Disappeared?" I asked unbelievingly. "When did your husband find out that his suitcase was stolen?"

"When it didn't appear on the luggage belt."

"Did he immediately report it to the airport authority?"

"Of course he did!"

"And they didn't run after her and catch her? She couldn't have been very far at that time!"

"I don't know. Peter was so upset that I hardly understood what he was saying."

I looked at my wife exclaiming triumphantly: "Haven't I always been saying that policemen in other countries were nothing but amateurs? Haven't I? You don't know whether to laugh or cry or be angry when watching them dancing on a crime scene, not knowing what to do, destroying the evidence..."

"Tibor, stop," warned me my wife with angry look in her eyes. "Kate doesn't need your boasting, she needs help."

"But I've told you, I'm not going! Don't you ever listen to me, woman?"

"Tibor, please."

Two pairs of eyes, women's eyes, were drilling into my heart.

I sighed, scolded myself for being such a fool to let them make me give in and asked: "Okay, tell me, Kate, how he knows that it was the woman who stole the suitcase and not somebody else?"

"Because he told her about his Prophecies."

"About what?"

"His Prophecies. You know, he wrote a book of Prophecies that he took with him to Paris to read to his students. There was a woman on the plane sitting by his side, a real chatterbox, putting questions to him that he did not want to answer but had to, and so it slipped out of his mouth that he had written a book of prophecies. She immediately wanted to see it. When he lied to her that he had it down in the suitcase, she decided to accompany him to the luggage belts after the landing, because she was really interested in it and simply had to see it. Having no intention to show it to her, and god forbid, let her touch it, it is his last copy, the most precious thing in the world that he would not allow anybody to take into their hands, including me, he impolitely, he can become terribly impolite when angry, told her to leave him in peace.

She was hurt, no doubt, who wouldn't be. But he said, he didn't care. She didn't talk to him or even look at him anymore, which was okay, for he was then able to indulge in his own thoughts again. An occupation he loves most.

When the plane landed, she grabbed her bag and hurried out and he never saw her again."

"When he came to the airport and found out that his suitcase had vanished, he was not worried but angry. He turned around to return home right away, but the police did not allow him. He had to wait to identify his suitcase in case they found it." Uttering a short laugh, she added: "As if it was a corpse! You identify a corpse, don't you?"

"When there is a crime you have to identify many things. Did they find any traces of the suitcase?"

"I don't know; we didn't discuss the suitcase anymore."

I frowned: "You didn't discuss the stolen suitcase anymore?"

I expected people to discuss stolen suitcases for the rest of their lives!

"Peter didn't want to. The mere mentioning of the suitcase made him nervous. I have told you already that he hates nosiness. He told me to stop molesting him! I think he blames me for all the troubles. You know, he didn't want to go to Paris. I made him go."

Of course! Who else?

"And why did you want him to go?" I asked not without some sarcasm in my voice.

"Because it was a unique opportunity for him! Do you know what it means to be invited to the Sorbonne? How many Slovenians have been given the honor? No one! My husband is an artist," she said, "and a good one, but in our country he's not getting the recognition he deserves! I was convinced that he should accept the invitation. It will benefit him. I didn't have the slightest idea that things will change into a nightmare! How could I? Isabelle and Maurice offered to take care of him after I'd told them how afraid he was of unfamiliar surroundings. I know that it is my fault, for I always take care of all his needs instead of teaching him how to take care of them himself." That was more a self-praise than a self-scold.

"Who are Isabelle and Maurice?"

"The students who invited Peter and organized his lectures."

"Then you should call them," I suggested. Only a woman could go on running around like a headless chicken looking for her husband instead of turning directly to the person who knows the answer. "They must know where your husband is!"

"Do you think I didn't? It was what I did first. Moreover, do you know what?" She lowered her voice to a panicked whisper, "that girl that Isabelle disappeared, too!"

At this point, I decided that time for politeness was over. If I went on handling Kate with kid gloves, I'd be merely prolonging her agony. Truth was the best cure even though sometimes painful.

"Kate, I hope you know what that means," I said as tactfully as possible.

She frowned. She did not understand at first what I meant. Then a faint smile appeared on her face: "No, no, Tibor, it's not what you think. He's not having an affair with her."

"How do you know?" I asked more than a little surprised. If somebody gave my wife only a gentle hint that I might be having an affair, she would, without any hesitation, attack me like a mad tigress. She would accept no explanation from my part at all. I might even get a dishcloth into my head. And I believe that most women would react like that. But not Kate. She remained calm and convinced: "Because, he's not interested in other women!"

I managed to suppress laughter, yet I couldn't suppress the remark: "Well, when men reach their ripe age, they usually become interested in young women. Not that they mean anything bad..."

"Not Peter! "Her voice was sharp. "His only interests are books and his writing! Furthermore, Isabelle is engaged to Maurice and about to marry!"

As if an engagement were an obstacle, I chuckled deep inside me. "Have you called that student, Maurice?"

"Yes, I have. He told me about the disappearance of my husband and Isabelle."

"Give me his number. I want to talk to him personally."

She gave me her mobile phone and I called Maurice. I introduced myself, apologized for bothering him, explained that Peter's wife was worried because Peter did not answer her calls and added that I would be grateful for any information.

"I'm afraid," said a young, scared male voice, "that FBI or CIA or more likely Scotland Yard arrested them."

That took my breath away! Arrested by FBI, CIA, Scotland Yard? Have Kate's husband and his student committed a crime of some kind?

"What for? What did they do?"

"I can't explain it on the phone," he answered and disconnected the phone.

I stared speechlessly at the silent device in my hand.

"What is it?" asked Kate shyly, reading bad news on my face. "What did he say?"

"Kate, "I said, discomfort probably showing on my face, "is your husband engaged into anything which could bring him difficulties? I mean, is he dealing with something that governments would not approve of?"

Kate looked at me as if I were mad. "Of course not! How did that come to your mind?"

I told her what I'd heard from Maurice. About Scotland Yard, FBI and CIA. She turned pale.

"Oh, my god," she groaned, "that can't be true! That can't be true!"

"Think it over, Kate. Is there anything about your husband that seems odd or...?"

She vigorously shook her head. "No, Tibor, no! I swear to God that he has never in his life done anything against the law. On the contrary! He sees prohibitions even where there are none, he is full of mustn't, shouldn't, prohibited, not allowed... I often wonder how he can live with so many threats around him. We have been arguing about that for all our lives. No, Tibor, he would never break a law! It must be a mistake! A terrible mistake, or..."

"Or what?"

"Or somebody planted something on him!"

"Somebody planted something on him? What do you mean?"

She told me what had happened to him at our airport after he had checked in. "They nearly stripped him naked," she said shuddering. "He had to go through those metal detectors three or four times and each time the alarm shrilly went off. He had to take off his jacket, shirt, shoes, even socks! Peter was sure somebody was pressing a secret knob or was secretly waving with a piece of metal exactly when he was going through those metal detectors."

I had to laugh. As a police officer, I was used to all kinds of stupidities with which people tried to justify their actions, but this one outdid all.

"Believe me, Kate, no one planted anything on him. Why, on Earth would he do that?"

"Because of envy," she said firmly. "Somebody did not want him to go to the Sorbonne! "

She was not joking. She believed it.

"Listen, Kate, "I started patiently, "if anybody wanted to stop your husband from going to the Sorbonne, he would have done it an easier way. Do you really think the airport police, security guards, and customs inspection officers would let people press buttons or wave with metal pieces around them? Now that security has drastically tightened because of terrorism?"

"Peter believes the police conspired against him," she answered. This remark made me furious. "Kate," I said, "if you intend to discredit police or anybody else without any proof, then you'll have to find your husband alone! It's not how I work. I'm interested in proofs and facts, not in paranoiac cock-and-bull stories."

She looked at me with a twinkle of hope in her eyes. "So, you are going to help me?"

Ninety per cent of me was against taking up the case which did not concern me in the least. Ninety per cent longed for peace, isolation from everything I professionally had to be doing in my lifetime. But ten per cent became curious. After what Maurice and Kate told me, it became clear to me that Peter's disappearance was more than a love adventure. And these ten per cent won the battle.

"I will if we play by my rules," I answered and seeing that she intended to throw herself around my neck out of gratitude, I quickly stepped back saying: "But I cannot promise you anything. I'll call some people; I'll see what they can tell me. Then we'll decide what to do. "I opened the door. "Go home, Kate, and wait for my call or Peter's."

She thanked me with tears in her eyes and left. Finally, I called Frank, a friend in the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, and asked him to find out if any of intelligence services, CIA, FBI or

Scotland Yard arrested a man named Peter Otrin. Frank was surprised.

"I thought you were retired," he said.

"So did I," I answered with a slight uneasiness. "But as long as you live with a woman you are never really retired. She does everything to find you work." He laughingly agreed with me and then I told him about my wife's friend Kate, about how worried she was.

"I am sure the chap is quite okay. He's probably enjoying the company of a young student, which I, honestly, envy him." We both giggled at this. "As for his suitcase, I am not really worried. You know how forgetful professors are. But until I reassure the women that he is fine, they will not leave me in peace."

Frank promised to do his very best. I was calmed down. For me, the case was closed. So I thought. Wrong!

3.

It was two days later that Frank called me. "The Intelligence service says they know nothing about any Peter Otrin, but to tell you the truth, I don't believe them. We both know, don't we, that they are informed about each and single person who crosses the border anywhere in the world. So if they say they have no idea, it means they are hiding something."

He sounded excited. "Are you suggesting that Otrin was arrested?"

He said it was possible. "If they arrested him for some political reason, they would not admit it," he added. "Not until things have been clarified."

"So we can do nothing but wait," I said. "I think so," he answered.

When my wife found out what Frank had told me, she said relentlessly: "Tibor, you must immediately go to Paris to see for yourself."

"Forget it!" I said through my teeth. "I'll go nowhere!"

Well, to cut a long story short, after many hours of heavy arguing, I visited the Head of the police office where I had been working. I explained to him the whole situation and asked him to 'rehabilitate' me for this case. That meant that he would have to give me my officer's badge back. And of course, I would have to get permission to act in the name of the Slovenian police.

He looked at me with amusement. "I knew you were not going to rest in your retirement. Not you."

With a faint, sour smile on my face I nodded not wanting to tell the truth. To tell him that it was my wife who could not rest, not me. I wanted to spare myself from mocking looks of my colleagues.

And so it happened that the first Saturday morning to come, we left for Paris. Yes, we! Kate insisted on going with me although I put all the efforts into persuading her to stay at home.

"I'll let you know as soon as I get some information," I kept promising her, but she wouldn't listen.

"I want to be there when you find him," she answered. He'll need me."

That I doubted, yet had no right to prevent her.

I started my investigation at the airport. After having checked in, I had enough time for a chat with the airport staff. One passport control officer remembered the funny old man, who nearly had a breakdown because he had to go through the metal detectors three times and in the end had to take off his shoes to silence the alarm. They hardly convinced the furious man not to run back home. So, what Kate had told me, was true. And it was true that one of the seats beside him was occupied by a woman named Marija Doval. His story confirmed my assumption that she couldn't have taken Peter's suitcase. She was a retired professor of English and French

languages who used to travel a lot and had never caused any trouble. She was small, plump, according to the officer a motherly looking person, kind, considerate, a person who would not harm a fly. She simply was not strong enough to carry two suitcases, her own, being as heavy as hell and Peter's, also heavy because of the books. No, said the officer, it's absurd to even think of that.

The flight lasted an hour. I asked Kate to tell me everything she remembered about Peter. The more I knew about his character, his way of thinking, his occupations and his looks, the easier it would be for me to look for a trace. A clue. As for his looks, he was not, as much as I was able to gather from Kate's description, exactly a man, who women, especially young women, students, for example, would fall for. Middle height, bony, bespectacled, grey-haired. By character, he was nervous, shy, and always deep in his thoughts that gave him a look of absent- mindedness. He was abnormally afraid of people, believing everybody wanted to hurt him. He felt safest at home. But despite all this, he obviously was a man of immense intellect.

"You know," said Kate, pride shining in her eyes, "his students never call him by his name. They call him Professor. They respect him. He is the cleverest person I have ever met."

It was on the tip of my tongue to say that if he was really so clever as she wanted me to believe, he wouldn't have got lost in Paris after just three days. I swallowed the words. The other thing that I wanted to say to her yet didn't, was that in my opinion schools do not equip you with the knowledge you need for life in the real world. During my professional career, I have met dozens of the so-called learned men who were able to recite whole books by heart, but were, when it came to solving their everyday problems, simple problems, completely at a loss. Don't get me wrong, I do respect highly educated people and I do not envy them. Yet I prefer useful knowledge to the theoretical one. Knowledge that can help people out of their difficulties. Knowledge, which no school can give you. Life gives it to you. Experiences.

"He investigates languages," she said luckily unaware of what was going on in my mind. "Words and letters."

Words and letters? Why, for God's sake, do words and letters need to be examined? They tell you something or they don't! It is as simple as that! But I kept this thought to myself too.

"I was so glad when he got that call from the Sorbonne," she added and still deeply moved by that act of the Paris University, looked down at her hands in her lap.

I looked out. I got lost for a moment in the white, curly clouds on the other side of the plane window. Then I turned back to Kate again. "Tell me more about the Prophecies, " I demanded.

Embarrassment showed on her face. She answered apologetically: "I can't. I haven't read them."

"You haven't read them? I thought you knew all his writings."

"Most of them," she answered, "but not the Prophecies. I have already told you, remember, that he had only one copy that he wouldn't let anybody in the world merely touch let alone take it into his/her hands. He did not show me the text, he just told me he had written it."

O my, o my, what a bastard, ran through my mind. If I was his wife.... After a while I asked, half mockingly: "If he was a prophet then he must have foretold you your future. Did he not mention his disappearance and his reappearance?"

Amusement showed on her face. "Some months after we had met, he looked at the lines on my palm and told me I would never ever get married."

"What a prophet!" I laughed. Then I decided to have a chat with the plane staff.

"Come with me," I invited her and she obediently got up without even asking me where we were going. We went to the front of the plane where stewardesses and stewards had their private place. I showed my police badge and they let us in. We were lucky. One stewardess was on duty when Peter traveled to Paris. She remembered him.

"A nervous and strange man," she said. "He must have had some precious things in his bag, for he was holding it tightly with his both hands in his lap, throughout the whole flight. He even refused food and drinks because he did not want to take his hands off his bag. We were a little bit worried at first for he could have a bomb or other weapon in it, but we came to the conclusion that detectors would have detected it, and so we left him in peace. Nevertheless, we kept an eye on him all the way long."

"I know what he had in the bag and why he was pressing it so tightly to himself," said Kate with a certain uneasiness in her voice.

"He had his cell phone. I forced him to take it with him, even though he did not want to. But I would feel calmer if I knew he could call me in case he was in trouble. The fact is that he is a terribly non- technical type of a person. To make things worse, he is not only non- technical but also afraid of modern technical devices." Kate looked at the stewardess. "When you told your passengers to turn off their mobile phones, he did not know how to do it, he forgot my instructions and he panicked. He was sure that somebody would call him exactly at the time when phones were forbidden and he would be thrown out the plane. So he wrapped it in a few handkerchiefs, put it into the bag, which he pressed to himself to prevent the ringing to be heard. In the evening, he called me, yelled at me that I had put him into life danger."

We spontaneously burst into laughter. Then I asked the stewardess:

"Do you remember the woman who sat beside him?"

The girl frowned. After a few seconds she nodded. "In fact, I do. A lady in sixties or more, stout, so that she and her extraordinary big handbag, you know, some women carry around in their handbags all their possessions," here she uttered a short, scornful laugh, "occupied not only her seat but also a part of the gentleman's, which made him even more nervous. But we could not help. No law forbids heavy people..." She fell silent in embarrassment. It came to her mind that she was not supposed to talk like that about their passengers. I quickly encouraged her to continue.

"She was very talkative. She kept asking him questions, which he, as I noticed, did not answer or if he chose to answer, he did it most unwillingly."

"What questions?"

"I don't know. We are not allowed to eavesdrop." After a short pause she continued: "You know, some people talk and talk when they are scared of the flight." She paused again, trying to picture the woman in her mind and added: "Though the woman did not seem to be scared at all."

"Poor soul," sighed Kate. "I can imagine how he must have suffered."

"Did you notice anything unusual about this woman? Besides her talkativeness, of course."

After thinking for a few moments, she shook her head. "No. No, nothing unusual."

I was turning the information she gave me over and over in my mind. The woman's handbag was big and heavy, heavy was also her suitcase and she was probably awkward, not young and strong, so how on earth would she manage to carry Otrin's suitcase beside her own luggage? She should have been a mule not a human being to carry such weight!

We returned to our seats.

"I can't understand people who steal," said Kate, anger showing on her face. "I have never, never in my life stolen a thing! What kind of a man must you be to steal somebody else's suitcase? He could have in it things of greatest importance! Vital importance! Medicines, for example. He could be dangerously ill and would die without them! Do those people have no heart?"

"Kate, I think that woman did not steal your husband's suitcase," I said. "In fact, I'm sure of it." And I told her what caused my doubts. She frowningly stared at me." If she didn't then who did?"

"That's what we'll have to find out," I answered.

4.

After stepping out of the plane, I was immediately overwhelmed by nostalgic reminiscences. Three decades had passed since my last visit to Paris. Standing motionlessly for a moment I gulped in the most famous air in the world. The air of the city of Eiffel Tower, Notre Dame, Louvre, Arc de Triomphe, Champs-Élysées, Pigalle. I got lost in the time I had spent in Paris. In the longings and expectations that were overwhelming me then. Young, newly married, I and my wife came to Paris on our honeymoon. I felt as if the whole world was lying at my feet! I had so many wishes, expectations and I had the most beautiful bride in the world. And now I was here with Kate. The thought brought me back to reality. I glanced at Kate. Her face was wrinkled. But so was mine and so was my wife's. None of us was young any more.

We picked up our suitcases from the transfer belt and went to the passport desk. The officer asked me for the reason of my coming to France and I lied that I came as a tourist. Even though I was a 'rehabilitated' police officer, I decided not to tell the real reason. Not yet. I did not know who was involved in Otrin's disappearance. It might be the government. And if that were true, they might forbid me investigating Otrin's disappearance even before I started. Before we neared the desk, I told Kate to say the same.

A taxi took us to the same hotel in which Kate's husband was housed. I booked it the evening before and was lucky to get two single rooms. Its name was HOTEL DU LION. I studied the map and saw that it was situated in the immediate neighborhood of the Sorbonne, the church Notre Dame, Pantheon and UNESCO.

"That's why it is so expensive," I told Kate, feeling slightly guilty because she was the one to pay the bills, "the tourists have many magnificent monuments at hand. They don't need taxis and undergrounds to visit them."

"Peter made clear to the students who were in charge of his stay in Paris that unless he was accommodated in the neighborhood of the Sorbonne, he would not come," explained Kate. "He hates traveling. Hates transport. Any kind of transport. So they put him into one of the most expensive hotels. Luckily, the University pays all of his bills."

"It should pay ours too. Look, Kate, we can move into to a cheaper hotel if you want. I wouldn't mind at all."

"No, no, we must be accommodated in Peter's hotel because that way we'll have better chance to find the truth. There will be more opportunity to talk to the staff, possibly other guests. Don't worry about the costs. Money is not important now, Peter is."

When Kate handed over her passport to the receptionist saying that she came to join her husband, I expected a miracle. I expected him to tell her that her husband was in his room and would direct her there. But instead he turned pale and stammered:

"Madam, have they not told you? Your husband has been missing for five days! He suddenly disappeared. The police are looking for him."

"I want the key of his room," she demanded bleakly. "I'll wait for him there."

"I'm really sorry madam, nobody is permitted to enter the room. It's been sealed."

"For God's sake, I am his wife! I have the right..."

Seeing that she was becoming hysterical, I quickly added: "Sealed? But why?"

"I don't know, sir. It's the police order."

We took our pre-booked rooms. When I was given the key of my room, I showed the receptionist my police ID card. His eyes widened. I asked him for an interview. He rejected my request saying that the case was under the French police investigation. He had already been interrogated by a Criminologist named J.E.

"I have told him everything I know, "he said moodily. "I have nothing to add."

It was not easy to make him believe that I was sent by the Slovenian government and that he was obliged to answer my questions, too. In the end he reluctantly consented. We sat at a table in the lobby.

"I don't know much, "he started. "It was last Friday evening. He said he was taking a walk before going to bed..."

"In the evening? In the darkness? "Kate gaped. "He never goes out in darkness! Not even with me, let alone by himself!"

The receptionist cleared his throat. "Well, that evening he said he needed a walk. He was a kind man, very clever. Liked to joke."

"Why do you keep saying was?" Kate's voice became shrill and I hastened to tap her arm to calm her down. "He's not dead!"

Apology flickered across receptionist's face. "Of course not, madam," he hurried, "I didn't want to say that. It's just..."

"When did you discover that he disappeared?" I interrupted him.

"Not until the next morning. When the inspector, the J.E., rushed in. He was in a bad mood because he was sent on the mission which he found scandalously insulting and unworthy of his rank. The Foreign Ministry ordered him to find out what was going on with the gentleman named Peter Otrin, whom his wife could not reach over the phone. He felt degraded. Well in one word, he was furious."

"Who told the Foreign Ministry that Peter's wife was worried about her husband?"

"I did!"

I sharply turned to Kate: "You did? How?"

"I called the French Embassy?"

"You called... How, on Earth, did that enter your mind?"

Kate blushed: "Your wife advised me to."

My wife! Of course!

"J.E. feels the governments should be solving other problems, not marital disputes," added the receptionist, amusement replacing apology now.

Kate answered, offended: "There was no marital dispute! Everyone who knows Peter knows that not answering my calls, not trying to contact me, was strange! In fact, it meant that he was in trouble. That something was wrong. And I was right, wasn't I? He did disappear!"

I exchanged glances with the receptionist. That did not escape Kate. She shouted angrily: "It's not what you think! My husband did not vanish because of a love affair, I know him!"

We cautiously remained silent.

"We went to the gentleman's room," resumed the receptionist. "I knocked, but nobody answered. J.E. ordered me to unlock the door. I did only to see that the room was empty. There was neither the gentleman nor the woman in the room."

Kate and I widened our eyes.

"What woman?" gasped Kate. "Isabelle? The student?"

The receptionist shook his head. "No, the other woman. The one from the plane. The one who stole gentleman's suitcase."

"Don't tell me, she was here! In this hotel together with Otrin?" I exclaimed, not believing my ears. "Did she bring back the suitcase or what?"

The receptionist shrugged his shoulders. "I didn't see her, "he admitted. "I never saw anyone accompany the gentleman except the students Maurice and Isabelle. But J.E. insists that this second woman entered the gentleman's room from the back side of the building. He said she must have entered the room through the balcony door."

"The balcony door? Isn't his room on the first floor?"

"It is. But the back side of the hotel, the north side is cut into the hill and the rooms on this side are in fact on the ground floor, not on the first. It's not difficult to climb the balcony fence and enter the room if the door is not locked. That's why we warn our guests to lock the windows and balcony doors before they leave their rooms. It seems the gentleman took no notice of our warnings and the consequence was the theft..."

"Theft? What theft? Wasn't his suitcase stolen at the airport? Was it stolen here? From his room? I thought the woman wanted to return it to Otrin."

"No, not the suitcase. Somebody broke into the gentleman's room and left it in complete disorder. I don't know if he found what he was looking for, in fact, we do not know if it was really a theft, because the gentleman said that nothing was missing, but..." He frowned, then asked surprised: "Don't you know that? Hasn't your government informed you? "

Kate and I simultaneously shook our heads. His mouth gave a nervous twitch.

"I think I shouldn't tell you more," he said and stood. "Wait for J.E. He is in charge of the case."

He returned to the desk.

I turned to Kate. She was fighting with tears and I felt pity for her. It would be better for her if she had stayed at home. She would have been at least spared the details, of the women visitors, for example. That must have been a shock. She was so sure that her husband never even noticed other women. What if he, after all, did not come to Paris to lecture, but to have fun? What if the lectures were just an excuse?

But why did somebody break into his hotel room? His suitcase having been stolen, there wasn't much left to steal. Or did Otrin stage the theft himself? Lied about it? If he did, why?

After asking Kate to join me for dinner and she turned down my offer, saying she was too tired and wanted nothing but go to bed, I escorted her to her room. Nevertheless, I was sure she would not close her eyes the whole night.

Having decided not to give her false hopes or promises, I made no attempts to comfort her. Besides, she would not accept made up stories. She was no fool.

"Thanks for now," she said bitterly and disappeared into her room. I returned to the reception hall for I had to ask the receptionist one last question. At first he tried to avoid me, pretended he was high over his head in work, yet I am not so easy to be avoided or driven away. So, because of my persistence, he had to notice me. And before I had time to put the question to him, he angrily told me he did not want to discuss the matter with me anymore. I waited, following each of his step and movement with my drilling eyes. In the end, he gave in with a heavy, accusing sigh.

"I want to know if Mr. Otrin was in fact lecturing on the Sorbonne or not. Did he leave every morning to go there?"

"How am I supposed to know that?" he exclaimed indignantly. "Do you think I spy on my guests or what?"

"No, I don't think you do," I reassured him, "but if he was lecturing on the Sorbonne you would know! I think the University would inform you."

"Nobody informed me about anything," he insisted and disappeared through a door behind the desk.

I went out. After taking a deep breath, and coming to conclusion that there was nothing else I could do this evening, I started to toy with the idea of visiting the city center and have some fun. Yet, the wish left me as suddenly as it came and I returned to the hotel. I felt I needed some physical exercise, so I decided to take the stairs instead of the elevator to my room. On the way, I made a plan for the next day. The first thing I would do in the morning would be visiting the Head of the Sorbonne University.

5.

The Head of the Sorbonne University, Mr. Pearson, was about fifty years old, of average height, quite slim, grey-haired. No wonder, I thought. The Sorbonne University is a big institution, to manage it must be stressful.

We shook hands and he showed me and Kate where to sit. He sat opposite us.

"You said on the phone it was urgent," he started.

"Yes," I answered, "I'm sorry to bother you, but it is urgent." I pointed to Kate: "This is Kate Otrin, Peter Otrin's wife." I feared he would say he did not know any Peter Otrin, had never heard of him, but to my relief he nodded. Got up and again shook Kate's hand saying with regret: "Madam, I'm so sorry. I can't believe it!" He said it in English, bad English in fact, nevertheless, Kate was able to understand it.

"Isabelle is your student, isn't she?" I asked in French again. "Yes, she is. Have they told you that she, too, disappeared?"

I said yes.

He got up again, and after shoving his chair closer to us, he whispered: "Can I be frank with you?"

"Sure," I invited him, wondering why he was whispering. Was he afraid to be overheard?

"If you ask me, he is in the hands of either CIA or FBI or Scotland Yard."

I decided not to tell him that I had already heard this from Maurice. "Really?" I pretended to be surprised. "Why? What did he do?"

"Because of the things he was lecturing. You know, I'm partly responsible for this." He sounded guilty, "I should have had myself informed in advance what he was going to talk about. But I trusted Isabelle and Maurice. Now it seems I shouldn't have."

"Wait, wait," I stopped him, "can you tell us, what were 'those things'? Illegal?"

Mr. Pearson sighed. "According to J.E. more than that. Things that endanger the security of our country."

"What? "I shuddered and turned to Kate. I had to translate this!

"Kate," I said, "what the hell does your husband write about?"

Kate's face contorted in anger: "What... What is it again? I have told you!"

"Police thinks that his writings endanger national security!" Openmouthed she stared at Mr. Pearson. Then she cried out: "Are you crazy? My husband is a poet, a writer! He is exploring languages, words, letters."

"Madam, I'm not accusing him of anything, the police are," he interrupted her in his broken English. "And I shouldn't be telling you this! Inspector J.E. explicitly ordered me to remain silent until the investigation is over. However, I can imagine how you must feel and you came so far, I just can't keep silent."

He took a pile of paper and handed it over to me with the words: "We tape the lectures of all our lecturers. After Mr. Otrin's disappearance and police accusations, I had his lectures typed. I want you to read them. Sooner or later, you'll have to confront the inspector J.E., so you'd better know what Mr. Otrin was telling the students."

"Have you found anything aggravating?"

"If I had, I wouldn't be breaking police orders, would I?" he said.

I agreed.

He looked at his watch. I got up and so did Kate. We thanked him. When we were at the door, he said: "You'd better hurry. I mean, you'd better find Mr. Otrin before J.E. does."

"I'll do my best," I said.

"And please, don't give me away," he added.

"I won't," I promised and asked: "Do you know where I could find Maurice?"

He gave me his phone number, but I again had to promise not to tell anyone that he helped me.

"I hope Maurice will be able to tell you more," he said.

"Isabelle is his girlfriend, isn't she?"

"Yes. You are right. They've been living together for four years. They seemed to be in love, that's why I don't believe the rumors."

"What rumors?"

"Well, you know people. When a man and a woman disappear it is because of love or better, sex. Especially if the man is an elderly man and the woman is a young girl."

He glanced anxiously at Kate, but luckily, she did not understand what he was saying.

"It crossed my mind, too," I admitted. "So, you don't believe those rumors?"

"No."

"How did Maurice react when he found out his fiancée had disappeared? What did he say?"

Mr. Pearson once again looked at his watch. "I'm sorry, "he said, "but I really am in a hurry. Call Maurice and he will tell you himself. If he is not away, looking for Isabelle. He really is upset, which is understandable."

Yes, it was understandable. And I was sure that he did not fear CIA, FBI or Scotland Yard. They were only a mask. He feared something else. Being an academic, he was probably no fool. They might have arrested Peter Otrin for something he was lecturing, but why would they arrest Isabelle? Because she suggested to invite him to the Sorbonne? But so did Maurice! They both invited him in the name of Sorbonne University and nobody did any harm to him! Did Peter Otrin and Isabelle after all run away as lovers? Kate insisted her husband was not like that. But in my opinion, he might have been disinterested in other women in the presence of his wife. Not because he wouldn't care for them but because he might have been too afraid of her or did not want to hurt her feelings. But away from her it was probably different. I can't imagine a man who would turn down a young girl's proposal to spend a few days with her. I certainly wouldn't.

As for me, I'd be happier if Peter Otrin was on a love mission because my investigation would be over and I would be able to return home. I had no intention to witness his reunion with his wife.

It was none of my business. Yet even though I was sure my guessing was correct, that is, he was on a love expedition, I nevertheless decided to read his lectures first and then bring Kate face to face with the truth.

6.

While leafing through the pages of Otrin's lectures, I noticed that the content was somehow biblical. It started with the conversation between Abraham and Isaac, his son. I had to dig deeply into my memory to remember who exactly they were. It was a long long time ago since I last had to do with the Bible. I stopped going to Church at fifteen.

Despite my efforts to remember more, I didn't so I went to the library. Kate decided not to go with me, she said she'd rather take a walk in the nearby park, which was okay with me.

That's what I found in an Encyclopedia:

Abraham was one of the three sons of father Nahor. He was married to Sara, who was sterile and was unable to bear him children.

According to the habits of those times, she chose a girl and made her Abraham's second wife. Her only right was to bear children to Abraham. This second wife was Hagar and she gave birth to a son, named Ishmael. When Sarah and Abraham were about one hundred years old, God told her that she too would give birth to a son. She did not believe him, she even laughed which was a sin. But she really gave birth to a son named Isaac.

Now Sarah became jealous of Hagar and Ishmael and persuaded Abraham to expel both into the desert. An Angel rescued them by showing Hagar a well. With water they survived.

Now that I refreshed my memory, I returned to the hotel to read Otrin's notes. Luckily, there was no sight of Kate in the lobby, so I hurried up into my room. I threw myself onto my bed and started reading:

"My lectures consist of two parts," Otrin wrote in the introduction. "The first tells about places and people. This will not be any places or people. I will talk about places that in fact, according to their names, mean Jerusalem, or have a strong connection with it, which I will prove etymologically. As for people, I will talk about individuals, about three people who left a strong, indelible mark on at least one period in history. People, who, in fact, were leaders of the period. I named them Trinity. Not the Holy Trinity, but The Period Trinity.

I will try to prove, what I personally strongly believe in, that nowadays places, people and events already existed before. They existed long before us in the so-called pre-places, pre-events, pre- beings. Those pre-whatever are the source of later whatever, (places, people, events). There are small differences among them, resulting from differences between two periods. Two periods may be different in styles of life, a way of thinking, technological and other development, wishes and expectations, however, the main role of places and people and events, even though put into another time and onto a higher level of development, remains basically the same. And what is their role? To be the mobile force of the period. Each Trinity is the mobile force of the period they live in.

You will probably ask me why that is important. What benefits can arise from knowing who the Trinity was in a preceding period or periods.

Well, there are some benefits. By analyzing the Trinities, we can foretell the future. The future of our Earth, the way it will move. The dangers it will be exposed to. We even might learn how to avoid them. For, we all, places, events and people, possess free will. It means we can act if we want to. Don't believe those, who say, we are being pushed around like puppets by our destiny not being able to change anything. Don't surrender to such beliefs. We possess free will; we can fight for better future. We can look for a way out."

"I can't agree more!" I murmured to myself and went on reading. "I chose the period of Abraham as my starting point. I could not choose the period of Adam because there were only two people living on the Earth then, Adam and Eve. However, before starting to research, I had to find first a Trinity, that is, three people whose lives, or traces of lives, I was able to follow to the present day. The first period or trinity, which complies with my requirements, goes back to the time of Abraham. The Trinity are Abraham, his wife Sarah and their nephew Lot.

As important as people, three people in each period are also places. Places connected with Jerusalem.

Before we start analyzing individual words, let me read a chapter from my newest book titled TRINITY OF THE PRE-BOOK. It will give you an idea of what I believe. I believe that Abraham was clairvoyant. I believe that times are mixed. What I want to say: there is no linear time. Past, present and future are here. Now. All mixed and at the same time.

In the chapter, which I'm going to read, Abraham has a conversation with his son Isaac. It's raining and thundering and Isaac, still a small boy, is afraid.

***

I: Why is God angry if he loves us?

A: My son, you were given the gift of listening. Use it. You'll find the answer in what you hear.

I: I don't want to. I am afraid of the storm!

A: This storm, this thunderstorm will soon be over. I: Father, look! Another lightening! I'm afraid!

A: This storm is noisy, I must admit. But if you listen attentively, you'll hear that it speaks in a comprehensible language.

I: Like a clairvoyant?

A: Yes, my son. This storm is telling us things from a distant future. From a battlefield of generations in the time far ahead. Times still to come.

I: The generations of that distant future have not been born yet?

A: They are neither born nor alive, yet they exist.

I: Exist? How?

A: In us. For, they possess the most inevitable – destiny.

I: Does it mean I will be a part of their destiny and they are of mine?

A: Much more than you can imagine now.

The little Isaac often heard Abraham talking about those matters with his Angel. He eavesdropped, as do all teenagers. He was guilt- driven because of that, not knowing that in fact he was forced to it. God's Word was like food to him. He had to consume it. He was forced into it because later, when he grew up, he had to accept the whole message, as a part of himself. But now, as a little boy, he wasn't able to understand many things. At this moment, for example, a document from the future bothered him. Father Abraham tried to explain it to him. It was a document about the future Jerusalem.

A: You have already heard words like York, New York, New Jerusalem, Eboracum, Karsag, Ur.

I: Yes, Father. You were telling me about them when we were approaching the mountain Moriah. You told me that a powerful city will grow around it. Then suddenly the Archangel appeared, I saw him for the first time in my life, touched your arm with one hand, pointed with the other to the bush where a ram was standing...

A: The city will grow, will be pulled down, will grow again...

I: You wanted to stress something special, Father.

A: Yes, yes... The Jerusalem I mentioned will be the rebuilt Karsag, which used to be the settlement of God's sons on the Earth and which was completely destroyed at the time of the great Flood. The city of Ur, where I come from, was, in fact, applying for this spiritual heritage as well, but God decided otherwise. This city, Ur, will be forgotten. Its soul moved to Jerusalem. However, after the destruction of Jerusalem, built around the mountain Moriah, its soul will move on into its twin city, into another city.

I: The soul of the city can move? It has already moved from Karsag to Ur and it will move from there to Jerusalem?

A: Yes, it will, so to say. The Angel told me that out there in the

West, where the sun goes down, the city, the new home for the spiritual heritage of Karsag will be named Eboracum and York, and then, still further to the West New York.

I: Do you know exactly where these countries will be?

A: I must admit I do not. However, I know the Archangel will inform me in time about things I have to know.

I: Father, tell me again about the New Jerusalem.

A: Have you forgotten what I told you?

I: No, Father, I haven't. I just want to hear it once again.

A: All right, son. The New Jerusalem will be a new Heaven for the Saved Man. It will descend to the Earth after Earth's life and cities have been destroyed and the fields barren. More than that I am not allowed to know.

I: I'll be praying to God for the rest of my life to reveal this secret to me.

A: Do so, my son. Do so.

***

At this point, I stopped reading. As far as I was concerned there was nothing I would describe as suspicious. Not a single word! Except, that Otrin made up biblical events which had never existed. He didn't have the slightest idea what Abraham and his son had been in reality talking about. Nobody knew. And all this crap about Abraham being clairvoyant and cities having souls that move from place to place. What stupidity! What imagination. But that's what writers do. They shouldn't be taken too serious. If he was arrested because of this, then the person who arrested him was an even greater fool than Otrin!

But before disclosing my opinion to the French Police, I had to read the lecture, which I found highly boring, to the end. Just in case he did write things he shouldn't have.

***

P: Do you have any questions?

This question was addressed to the students.

"I do," said an S (S being abbreviation for Student). "Do you really believe that names Karsag, Ur, Eboracum, Worms and York all mean Jerusalem?"

P (P standing for Professor): Of course I do! Etymological research proves it. Additionally, I must say that these cities are not identical with Jerusalem only by names, they resemble it by their content as well. As I told before, each of these cities hides a Holy content in its core, having inherited it from the previous one, which was destroyed. They are the chosen cities, cities worth to give refuge to the Holy content.

S: Is there an etymological proof for that?

P: Yes, there is. The etymological proof is the letter r. I'll explain it. All of the previously mentioned names have the central r, preceded by a consonant, being a permutation of some basic consonant.

Don't forget, we have to ignore vowels! They are of no importance.

Let's take a closer look at the names. Let's find those with a letter r in the middle and a consonant before it.

KARSAG. I see you are nodding. Correct. It contains the letter r, preceded by the consonant k. We will ignore vowel a. So, what we get is:

KARSAG kr

JERUSALEM: jr

WORMS: wr

YORK: yr

EBORACUM: br

R: r

S: But how do you know that r preceded by a consonant proves that the words are identical. That they mean the same? How do you know that you are right?

P: Etymology is not a science, it is a hypothesis, which can be taken as truth until another hypothesis offers a better solution. I first put down my hypothesis of what I believe is true. After that, I try to back it up with more proofs. It is always possible for somebody else to annul my hypothesis, but he must first find more convincing proofs than mine are. If he does, his hypothesis will be valid and generally accepted and mine dropped. But in my case till now nobody has undermined my thesis, so I'll go on believing that what I've discovered nears the truth.

As an example that etymology is no absolute science I'll explain the word dervish, meaning a beggar. But lately a new explanation has shown up saying that the word dervish derives from the word derga, meaning threshold. For now, both are accepted.

S: Why were all cities of Jerusalem destroyed?

P: For different reasons. Karsag fell in ruins after Annunaki, the Sons of God, having been unsuccessful on the Earth, returned to their planet Nibiru. The holy content then moved from Jerusalem to Ur, the birthplace of Abraham. After Abraham had left Ur and built an altar on the Temple Mount, the holy content moved into it. Where used to be the altar once, there now stands Jerusalem. But unfortunately, Jerusalem sinned too many times. Reports have been found of how each of the Chosen ones, living in Jerusalem, became corrupt in a way. Each of them except Abraham. David, for example, sinned so heavily that God told him: "You will not build a house for My name, for you are a man of battles and have shed blood. "(I Chronicles 28:33).

When later Jesus wept over the sinful Jerusalem, the sacred content moved to Europe.

S: I read Nostradamus's Prophecies. He foretells the same! He says that the sanctity will take refuge in Europe.

P: You are right. Nostradamus is moving the Son of God from Palestine to Europe. He claims that both, the Son and the Father will emerge in Europe, to be more exact, in Switzerland.

But let me continue with traveling of the Sanctity. As I have already told, it went from Karsag to Ur and then to Jerusalem. Its next stop, according to my calculations, was Worms, the city of the German Nibelung, ruled by Kriemhild. Unfortunately, nobody knows where this city was.

S: Switzerland, maybe?

P: Maybe. Nevertheless, Worms was destroyed as well and the Sanctity had to find a new refuge.

S: What sins did people commit in Worms?

P: Kriemhild killed her uncle Hagen with a sword because he had previously killed her husband Siegfried. In the end, she herself was killed with a sword. So the Biblical threat 'Who kills with sword will be killed with sword', came into realization.

In any case, Kriemhild's city Worms was from now on infected with evil, which forced the Holy content to move on. This time to York. "

S: British York?

P: Exactly. To York, to Eboracum, which etymologically means Jerusalem.

S: Does New York have any connections with York? I mean, regarding the names and the Sanctity? Is Holy content present in New York as well? Maybe because of the word York?

P: Sorry to say, but it isn't. If New York was named only York, maybe York 2 or if the first part of it were another word, doesn't matter which as long as it is not New, then it could have become the refuge for the Holy content. But a fatal mistake was made. Namely, the word New is reserved for one city only – and that is Jerusalem. The Jerusalem, which will come to the Earth from Heaven after the end of the World. The use of the name New York, which in fact means New Jerusalem, means an abuse of the holy name. And that must be punished. It will bring a curse upon itself. Misfortune. Evil.

S: Was New York attacked on the 11th of September 2001 because of the abuse of the name?"

P: "It's possible. Yes. What I think is that the terrorists would never get the idea of attacking New York if it was named differently.

Or the attack would at least fail.

S: But, Sir, New York has been carrying this name for 200 years! What's the point of punishing it now if it wasn't at the beginning?

P: The point is that the events need 200 years to mature. But you are wrong if you think there weren't indications of the events of today, I mean the event of such importance as is the 11th September 2001.

S: Come on, Sir, that can't be true!

P: But it is. I'll tell you why. Two hundred years ago, in the time of the French revolution, two significant heads fell, were cut off, the head of Ludwig XVI and of his son. The fall of the two heads repeated 200 years later as the fall of two WTC. If you don't believe me, you can calculate yourself.

The comparison of people and buildings might seem strange to you. However, you have to consider this: the fall of a king means the fall of many people. The death of many people. And so does the fall of two high buildings.

S: If that were true then after 200 years somewhere in the world a new double-catastrophe will occur.

P: You are right. And it will. But not in America. There will be no America in the world anymore.

S: No America? That will never happen. No country in the world is strong enough to attack it. Nobody would dare to. It's stupid to even to think of it!

P: I'm not the only one who thinks so. Read Nostradamus and you will see that his predictions are similar. He renamed New York into Selin. He said that the republic, named brotherhood, which the USA are, would disappear. You must admit that many of Nostradamus 'predictions came true.

My predictions differ from Nostradamus' only in the counting of days in a year. Nostradamus made a mistake and in his year there are 360 days instead of 366.

S: Did anything else repeat after 200 years except the fall of two heads?

P: Much. European World Wars, for example, are a copy of the battle between the American South and North. American states united, Europe is now following their example. But the USA states will fall apart and so will the European Union.

The next example is the death of Maximilian I of Mexico. Maximilian was the brother of the Emperor of Austria, Franz Joseph. He was proclaimed the Emperor of Mexico, but many foreign countries, including the USA, refused to recognize, accept his government. Three years later he was executed by the liberals. And what is the copy of this event after 200 years?

Lenin's death! Knowing the exact time of Maximilian's execution, we can calculate the exact time of Lenin's death.

And finally Princess Diana. Her death is a repetition, a copy of the beheading of Marie Antoinette and...

***

I was so absorbed in reading that I did not hear Kate entering my room. Suddenly, she was standing by my bed, making me jump up of fear.

"Sorry, I knocked, but you did not hear," she apologized. "Anything useful?" she asked.

"I am not sure," I answered. "He writes about interesting but weird things. At the beginning he recites the Bible, talks about historical facts, then he starts to fancy things. I don't think there is any truth in his statements; nevertheless, his writings might have attracted some fans. Fans who believe that he really knows some secret. That he can predict the future. I don't see any harm in this. People have the whole right to be fools. What I am afraid of is, that somebody might have found his writing provocative. Inciting to something dangerous... He says, for example, that the USA and Europe will fall apart. We both know what pains are being taken by the European Committee to hold the countries together. I am sure they wouldn't like the idea that all their efforts were in vain. However, the idea of the fall of the USA is even worse. You know how proud the Americans are of their country, of the stars on their flag! They certainly will not applaud to your husband when he tells them they will lose them. Lose the stars. And the reason for the attack on New York. It's so far-fetched. Where does he get these ideas?"

Kate shrugged her shoulders. She probably didn't know any answer.

"I really don't know what to do with this,"I sighed, tapping my finger on the folder.

"I think we should try to find the French police officer who is investigating the case,"she suggested. "He might have found some traces till now."

"We will," I agreed, "but first I'd like to talk to the student. To Maurice. I'm really interested in what he has to tell."

Without objection, Kate followed me out of the room.

7.

Maurice opened the door as soon as I put my finger on the bell. He must have been expecting somebody, but his surprised face told me that he was for sure not expecting us.

"Yes?" he asked shortly, sulkily, disappointedly. He was a blond, slim, blue-eyed young man. The kind, women would describe as handsome. Attractive.

I introduced us." Oh, come in, come in," he hurried, opening the door wide. We entered.

"Do you have any fresh news?" I asked after we had sat down.

Maurice shook his head.

"No," he answered. A faint smile crossed his face, as he added: "I hoped, you were bringing them."

"Sorry to have to disappoint you," I said.

He nervously combed his hair with his fingers. "I don't understand what is going on," he stammered desperately. "This is crazy! I don't know who would... Who could have learned about, about...?"

He fell silent, worriedly shaking his head.

"About what?"I asked.

I noticed that my question confused him. He dropped his eyes while saying that it was nothing.

"If you have any suspicions, please, tell me."

"No, no, because of worries I sometimes talk through my hat."

"I see. Maurice, tell me, what makes you think that CIA or Scotland Yard might have kidnapped them?"

He took quite a long time to think before he answered: "I guess because of the names Professor uses in his lectures."

"What names?"

"Well, Bush, Blair, Laden, the Queen of England..."

"He mentions those people in his lectures?" I asked astonished. In the part that I had read, I didn't come across any of those names.

There were mostly places and all had the meaning of Jerusalem.

"Yes, he does. They are the trinity of today."

"Trinity? Oh yes, I remember. The trinity like Abraham, Sarah and Lot? The leading people in a period?"

"Yes."

"Well, that shouldn't be a problem," I said. "They, in fact, are the leading people, aren't they?"

"But maybe they don't like what he wrote about them."

"And what did he write?"

"I don't remember," he said nervously.

"You don't remember?" I exclaimed unbelievingly. "Didn't you insist on inviting Otrin to the Sorbonne because his lectures seemed so interesting to you?"

"It was Isabelle who insisted," he answered. "I supported her when I noticed how much it meant to her to get him here. I accompanied her to Mr. Pearson where I pretended to be immensely enthusiastic. Just to help her."

I stared at him for some moments. "Does it mean you haven't read any of his books?"

"That's right. I tried. But when I discovered that his theories are not really scientific, that they do not base on experiments and other scientific methods, I lost interest in them."

"How do you know then that he wrote about trinities and about names like Bush, Blair and so on?"

"Isabelle told me. She read some passages aloud. I remember thinking that what he wrote about them was interesting, yet I felt uneasy as well, because I think that writing about people on such high positions, might be dangerous. You never know when you say something... when you insult them, and trigger revenge."

"Did you reveal your hesitations to Isabelle? Did you warn her?"

"Of course I did. She answered that I was making a mountain out of a molehill. But I was right, wasn't I? He shouldn't write about those people."

"Isabelle is your girlfriend, isn't she?" I asked. He nodded.

"What kind of a person is she?"

He looked at me suspiciously. "Why do you want to know?"

"When I am looking for people it helps me if I know about them as much as possible. "

After a short pause, he said thoughtfully: "She's the most attractive, the smartest and the kindest person I've ever met."

That did not tell me much about her, of course. I needed facts not emotional outbursts of a person deeply in love.

"I don't know much," he admitted with some uneasiness. "She comes from Provence. From St. Rémy. The place where Vincent Van Gogh was treated if you remember. The birthplace of Nostradamus. There are ruins in St. Rémy, which cannot be found anywhere else in the world. The ruins of a real Gallo Romanian city. God knows what they are hiding in them. The city was built thirty years before Christ. If only I had the chance to investigate them, I'm sure I'd find remnants, containing DNAs, I could reveal the secret ..."

"Maurice," I interrupted him, "I am not interested in history or any DNA stuff! At this point, I am interested only in Isabelle. In the members of her family. Tell me about those if you can."

Obviously insulted, he continued: "Isabelle's parents are living in a big house in St. Rémy. Both, her mother and her father are reputable lawyers. Her sister is a manager of the Vincent Van Gogh Museum. That's all I know."

"Have you ever met her family?"

"No. Her parents travel a lot and we, Isabelle and I, are always running out of time. We are very busy and..."

"What did they say when you told them about her sudden disappearance?"

His look became desperate. "I don't have their address or the telephone number. I called the Museum to get her sister, but they said there was no person with that name working there."

"Not working there?" I frowned. "Are you suggesting she lied to you?"

"No, of course not! Isabelle's sister is the manager and as much as I know the stuff is not allowed to reveal any personal information about their managers."

I had my own opinion about that, but there was no point telling it to him. I asked him to stay in contact. To inform me if there were any news. He promised and we left.

"He is hiding something," I said to Kate. "He was not telling the truth."

"About what?"

"About everything. He knows more than he told us."

"How do you know?"

"I know. I've been working with people all my life. I can smell a lie. His question, how anybody could find out something, he didn't want to finish the sentence, remember, has a deeper meaning and I'm going to find out what it is!"

After a short silence, she asked: "It's strange that he can find neither Isabelle's parents nor her sister, isn't it?"

I nodded. "It is. Yes. More and more people seem to be missing. It is very strange. Very very strange..."

8.

When we came back from Maurice, I went into my room, picked up the folder with Otrin's lectures, lay on the bed and resumed reading. There was nothing else I could do. Besides, according to many people I talked with, the clue to his disappearance was in those lectures, although nobody knew what exactly was so disturbing that he should be omitted from the public. Maybe put behind the bars. It was for me to find out.

There were two possibilities. Either he put down something that annoyed a government, or there was some information in his lectures worth kidnapping him because somebody wanted him to tell more. If a government kidnapped him, then his life was in danger. The secret police do not let people to freedom if they know a secret or information of great importance. In most cases, they kill them. However, I did not intend to disclose this thought to Kate.

What bothered me perpetually was why Isabelle had disappeared, too. Did she witness something she shouldn't? Or was she by chance with Peter when they got him and so they took her, too? That seemed possible for I was told that they had stuck together since his arrival to Paris. They were, in fact, inseparable. Many of the students were angry with Isabelle, they wanted to discuss words and theories with the Professor as well, however, she behaved as if he was her property. Some even gave a hint that the old man fell in love with her!

Kate knocked on my door and I invited her in. When she took a seat at the small table by the wall, I told her that she would have to help me with her husband's writing. She'd have to explain things I would not understand.

"If I can I will," she said. "But you must know that I don't know much about his theories either."

"Well, together we'll maybe decipher them."

I started to read aloud:

***

P: I am going to talk about 'adequates'. Yes, you've heard right: 'adequates', the word which is used as a noun not an adjective as you are used to. Adequates are my invention and so are the trinities, about which I have already given you some information. I must stress that you can always choose more than three persons in a period and study them. I choose ten. But nevertheless, the most important are the trinities. Trinities are three persons having only one spirit, carrying one message. There are trinities everywhere around us. Even a person himself is a trinity. He is composed of three levels: the head, the heart and the sex. Just as a trinity of a period, each of the man's trinity can gain independence and as such be able to go against the other two and compete with them.

A man outside who does not belong to a trinity is an empty space and therefore a tempting war field for astral parasites. I presume the same is true for a period of time. If it doesn't belong to a trinity, it is a war field.

As you know, my starting point was biblical trinity consisting of Abraham, Lot and Sarah. This trinity was acting the central role of its period. I concluded that each new historical period had its own trinity regulating its social life and in post-Abraham periods political life as well. There was no politics in Abraham's time.

So I came to the conclusion that each trinity is in a way similar to the first trinity that I call pre-trinity. Meaning original trinity. The objects of my research till now have been, besides the period of Abraham, the periods of David, Jesus, Attila and the French revolution. And of course, the period of today. In each period, I was looking for persons who would by the role, they were playing in their society and by their interaction with two other persons, resemble Abraham, Lot and Sarah. After having found them, I checked if their names have the same etymological and arrhetonical roots. I have to stress that I included a person to a trinity after I had got proofs that it matched the person of pre-trinity by its role in the society, by at least one of the characteristics necessary for a leading person, by its interaction with the other two members of the trinity and by their name. Only then I knew I had the right person of the new trinity, respectively the adequate of the pre-trinity.

S: Sir, are you saying you have found the reincarnations of Abraham, Lot and Sarah?

P: Reincarnation is limited to living beings, adaquates can be found among places, events and things. Besides, reincarnation is an exact copy of the reincarnated person, an adequate is connected with a pre-person, the original person, by characteristics I have just mentioned, that is, by their role in society and interaction with the other two adequates. He or she can differ in their character, the way of thinking, emotiveness and even in their actions.

Let's take the period of Jesus. According to my calculations, Jesus is the adequate of Abraham, Pilates the adequate of Lot, Iscariot the adequate of Sarah. Why? Jesus is the Son of God. He unconditionally obeyed God. Abraham who communicated with God obeyed him unconditionally as well. This is a bond between Abraham and Jesus on the human level. Abraham is the first in the trinity of his time, Jesus is his adequate and the first in the trinity of the historical period he lived in. The other two members are Pilates and Iscariot, as already mentioned.

So much about Abraham and Jesus. Their mutual characteristic is the ability to communicate with God.

Let's look closer at Pilates and Lot. What is their link?

Well, the links are their names. Pilates – contains the word lat which is Lot. The consonants l and t are important. Actually, etymological studies of a language take into consideration only consonants. Vowels are ignored. The reason is that in the beginning words did not have vowels. They were invented later and they may mislead us.

There is another link between Pilates and Lot: a dispute or better to say a disagreement. It's known that Abraham and Lot separated because of some disagreement, and it was the disagreement between

Jesus and Pilates that finally led to Jesus' execution. Yet there was no hatred between Abraham and Lot and consequently there was no hatred between Pilates and Jesus. Pilates, being a fan of esoteric doctrine, recognized a king in Jesus, which is revealed by his question: "Are you the King or am I?" Pilates, in fact, tried in a way to save Jesus but was unable to do so.

Lot and Abraham were relatives. Lot was Abraham's nephew. The bonds between Pilates and Jesus existed on spiritual, esoteric level. The third in the Abraham-Lot-Sarah trinity, Sarah, is also linked to the third in the trinity Jesus-Pilates-Iscariot – to Iscariot. She's linked to him by her name. The name Iscariot contains the syllable carsar in Sarah's name. By adding the vowel, a we get cara = sara. All of you probably know the Centum-Satem rule, the changing of the consonant c (k)) into s. However, Sarah and Iscariot are not linked only by their names, they are linked by treason as well.

Iscariot betrayed Jesus, Sarah betrayed Abraham. First she forced him to take another wife because she was sterile and could not bear him children, after having a child of her own, she chased his second wife Hagar and her son Ishmael, who was Abraham's son as well, out into the desert. That is a betrayal for me. Besides Sarah sinned against God by uttering a mocking laugh after he had told her she would conceive. She should have unconditionally believed in God and his words.

S: You have said there is a trinity in our time too. Can you tell us who they are?

P: Of course I can. They are Bush jr., the former president of the USA, the former British Prime Minister Blair and/or Bin Laden and the Queen Elisabeth.

***

"There might be the answer!" I exclaimed.

"Answer to what?" asked Kate surprised.

"Answer to why he was arrested if he was, of course."

She frowned. "You mean he was arrested because of writing about those people? I don't believe it! I think writing about political and other leaders is no offense. They are state officials; their lives should be accessible to all citizens. We voted for them..."

"Yes, yes, Kate, I don't mean that. I mean that mentioning Bin Laden in connection with them, I mean Bush, Blair, well ... Bin Laden was the most wanted terrorist in the world, for God's sake!"

She got lost in her thoughts. After a while she sighed: "Well, you are right. Although I know, he has never ever sympathized with Bin Laden."

"Nevertheless, some might think so! He should have left that name out of his lectures. "

"On the other hand I understand and even admire him, "I added. "Bin Laden fitted into his trinity and he did not care what consequences that might bring to him. That's what real scientists, I mean scientist by heart, do. Besides, I must agree with him that Bin Laden did strongly influence our world. Stronger than the Queen and Bush. In a bad way, of course, in a tragic way, but stronger, if you ask me.

Kate agreed and I went on reading.

***

S: Professor, what exactly connected the former president Bush with Abraham? "

The second proof is their communication with God. Abraham communicated with God and according to some sources, the President of the United States of America, the Prime Minister of Great Britain, and the Vatican Pope communicate with the higher intelligence.

***

Kate giggled. "What's so funny? "

"I remembered Bush saying on TV that God himself advised him to attack Afghanistan. Peter, after all, might be right! Bush might have had contacts with God. "

"The same as I have with the Martians, "I grumbled and went back to the script.

***

P: The next resemblance exists in the duality of the names. We know that Abraham was Abram at first. The duality of Bush's name is in Bush sr. and Bush jr. Both presidents of the USA. The duality of Jesus's name is in his name Jesus Christ. Double Bush is indicated by his pre-adequate Mifiboset. The word Boset is the same word as Bush, mifi means double.

***

I looked at Kate. "Do you know who this Mephibosheth was? Do you know anything about him?"

She shook her head. "I don't have the slightest idea."

Finally, it became clear to me that Kate, even though she was a teacher, a gym teacher, in fact, would be of no help.

"Let's go down to the internet corner," I suggested. "I suspect we'll need a lot of help to understand this writing."

We went and after I had typed the name Mephibosheth into the Google search bar, we found in Wikipedia the following description:

***

Meri-baal ("beloved of Baal"), changed to "Mephibosheth"("exterminator of the shameful one") in textually later parts of the Bible, while textually earlier parts preserve the name Meribaal. He was the son of Jonathan, and grandson of Saul. He was five years old when his father and grandfather fell in the Battle of Mount Gilboa. Hearing of this calamity, his nurse fled with him from Gibeah, the royal residence, and in her haste stumbled, dropping him on the ground and causing his paralysis. He was carried to the land of Gilead, where he found refuge in the house of Machir.

Some years later, when King David had subdued all the adversaries of Israel, he recalled the family of Jonathan, and discovered that Mephibosheth was residing in the house of Machir. So he sent royal messengers there, and brought Mephibosheth and his infant son Micahh to Jerusalem, where they resided from that point on. (Wikipedia)

***

"David, mentioned here, is the David who killed Goliath, isn't he?" asked Kate.

"I suppose so," I answered, but being unsure, I typed the name in the search box anyway.

"Yes," I confirmed. "He's the one who killed the dangerous Goliath by throwing stones at him."

I scanned the next paragraphs. "David became a hero," I told Kate, "and Saul who at first admired him, started to get jealous and decided to kill him. However, Jonathan, Saul's son, who made friends with David, warned him and David escaped. Later Saul and his sons, including Jonathan were killed by some tribes, and David became a king. When he found out that Jonathan's son Mephibosheth was still alive, he brought him to his court."

"Well," I concluded, "now we know who Mephiboseth was, but it does not help us much, does it?"

Kate shook her head.

***

P: Let's repeat: The first trinity are Abraham, Lot and Sarah; the second trinity are Jesus, Pilates and Iscariot; the third trinity are Mephiboseth, Solomon (Jedidja), Queen of Sheba. The fourth...

S: But, Sir, you said that the first adequate was Miphiboseth. Shouldn't it be David. He was the King.

P: You are right, young man, however, I discovered that David in fact belonged to another trinity. The Merovingian trinity, for he was the one chosen by God. Therefore, his place had to be occupied by somebody else and that is Miphiboseth. But be patient. We'll come to that later.

First we'll have a closer look at the time of Attila. At the fourth trinity. The trinity of this period are Kriemhild, Bleda and Hagen.

Those who know the German Nibelungenlied know who I am talking about. For those who don't know, here is a short summary: "The Song of the Nibelungs, is an epic poem in Middle High German. The story tells of dragon-slayer Siegfried at the court of the Burgundians, how he was murdered, and of his wife Kriemhild's revenge. (Wikipedia)

But let me start at the beginning. Siegfried became the owner of the Nibelung treasure after having killed the dragon who protected it. Then he bathed in its blood, which rendered him invulnerable. Unfortunately for Siegfried, a leaf fell onto his back from a linden tree, and the small patch of skin that the leaf covered did not come into contact with the dragon's blood, leaving Siegfried vulnerable in that single spot. Nobody knew that except his wife Kriemhild who he married years later. Without being aware, Krimhild revealed the secret to her uncle Hagen von Tronje who later, together with Günther, killed Siegfried. Kriemhild decided to revenge. To do that she married Atila, who, thanks to his sword Tiew, was invulnerable as well. Kriemhild married him because she hoped to get hold of the sword somehow. For Tiew was the God of war. With it in your hands you could not be defeated. She, in fact, got hold of it and killed both, Günther and Hangen, but unfortunately, she was killed too – by a sword.

Kriemhild is therefore Abraham's adequate...

S: Sir, I do not see any similarities between the two!

P: How can you not see it? It's obvious! Both of Krimhild's husbands, Siegfried and Attila were in fact immortal. Human beings are mortal, gods are immortal. They were gods in fact. Or half gods, for there was a vulnerable spot on their bodies. Yet immortality is god's power and Kriemhild, being their wife, was in touch with it. She was exposed to it. She communicated with the god in them. Abraham and Jesus also communicated with God. And, as I had told before, the communication with God is one of the proofs that a person is the first adequate in a trinity. Both, if we mention only the two trinities, Abraham and Jesus, communicated with God and that is what connects them with Kriemhild.

Now let's move to their connection with the second in the trinities. Lot, Iscariot, Bleda. I have already explained the role of Lot and Iscariot. As for Bleda, he was Attila's elder brother. As nephews to Rugila, Attila and his elder brother Bleda succeeded him to the throne. Bleda's reign lasted eleven years. Then he was killed by his brother Attila. And how are Kriemhild and Bleda connected? Bleda was the king and Kriemhild should be married to him. She by law belonged to the king. But he was killed. They were separated as were Abraham and Lot, and Jesus and Pilates, Mephiboseth and Solomon. The third in the trinities are Sarah in the time of Abraham, Iscariot in the time of Jesus, Queen of Sheba in the time of Solomon, Hagen in the time of Kriemhild. All of them betrayed their first adequate, each in his/her own way.

S: Sir, you told us before that trinity of today, or the last one you completed, were Bush, Blair/Laden, the English Queen. I'm surprised you think Blair and Laden are connected. Blair cannot be compared to Laden...;

P: Easy, easy, young man. I never said they were connected or they can be compared. I said, each of them are, have been or were connected to the first adequate Bush and each of them play or played an important role in the world, different, contrary to each other, yet important. I had to exclude them from being the first adequate, because they never communicated with God. Besides, their names connect them to the second pre-adequate Lot. Etymologically and arrhetonically.

S: Arrhetonically? What is that?

P: Well arrhetons are a sort of children of the root word. Of the original word. Some words have them, some don't. Let's take the word Christmas, for example. It is an arrhetone of Christ. So is the word Christians and so on. We might say that arrhetons carry a DNA of the original word. They may be very similar to the original word, they may be quite different, but if you find the DNA you might trace them down to the original. It often happens that it is not etymology that brings you to the root word, but the arrhetons.

Let me now explain the word Blair. By letters and arrhetons it also means Lear. Irish word for Lear is Lud, which means Lot. However, Lot means Laden as well. They are the same words. As is known, Lot was connected with salt. And so was Lear. His daughter told him she loved him as salt. Salt is a strong bond between Blair (Lear) and Lot.

Laden is linked to salt indirectly. Symbolically. In the past salt used to be the most valuable goods on the Earth. And which is today? Oil! Oil is the salt of today's world and Laden was strongly connected to it.

S: Does it mean, that the trinity of today contains two second adequates?

P: "No. It is either Laden or Blair. But I'd like to draw your attention to their names again. All of them Bush, Blair and Laden are connected to the word water. Bush is the name of the sacred spring under the Most Holy Place, also called the Inner House in Solomon's temple. Its floor and walls were overlaid with gold. It had no windows and was considered the dwelling-place of the "name "of God.

Solomon's Temple was built on the spot where Abraham tried to sacrifice his son Isaac to God.

In addition, etymology brings us to an interesting discovery. London and Lutetia (Paris) mean Lot. Being places and not persons, they cannot be Lot's adequates, yet they are connected with his adequates. In a way, both cities are Lot's cities, that is, Laden's and Blair's cities that they have to fight for. What I want to say is, that the Abraham and the Lot of today will have a lot to do to protect both cities from the irruption of dirty water.

S: Sir, why is Queen of England Sarah's adequate?

P: Her relationship with Princess Diana was similar to Sara's relationship with Hagar.

S: I don't agree! The English Queen did not drive Diana away!

S: Why do you call The Queen of England the Popess?

P: Because she is the Popess of the state religion. You know, don't you, that England does not acknowledge the Pope of Rome. The King or the Queen of England is the Pope of their country.

S: What is the connection with Sarah? She was not the Popess.

P: Sarah was everything in her home!

S: I read in one of your books that the fate of the Pope in liquid manure might befall the Queen of England. What does that mean?

P: The Pope in liquid manure is the Pope from the time of French revolution. After Napoleon's army had occupied Rome, the soldiers threw the Pope into a pool of liquid manure. O yes, something like that might befall her but because it has not till now, I am sure it will not in the future. Somehow, she escaped it.

S: What makes you think that America will disintegrate?

***

Guests began to arrive at the internet corner, interrupting us so we grabbed our sheets of paper and returned to my room.

"Many people predict all kinds of things," said Kate, "worse things than Peter and nothing happens to them. I remember that Nostradamus predicted the fall of America and Europe already. Peter is only confirming his predictions. And he even moves the year of the falls further into the future. Nostradamus predicts the end of the world very soon, in a few years; Peter says the end will not come until... until when? I have forgotten."

I searched for the data in Peter's notes and found it: "In the year 349295."

"You see," exclaimed Kate, "Peter is more merciful to mankind than Nostradamus. And as far as Bush is concerned, he doesn't say anything bad about him! Bush can be honored to be compared with Abraham! And if I remember correctly, Lot was quite a nice person, which means that Blair as well has no reason to be angry if he is compared with him, neither has Laden. I personally do not see any reason at all why Peter would, on the basis of his writing, present any danger to anybody."

I had to agree with her. Nevertheless, this was our way of looking at things. Our way of understanding things. The others might have quite a different one.

"Look, look," I remarked laughingly, rummaging through additional pages of Otrin's notes. "Bush had a chance to be elected the president for the third time because Abraham had three wives!"

"Who says that?" asked Kate, looking over at me with a grin.

"Your clairvoyant husband."

"Bush had the chance because Abraham had three wives?" she repeated.

"Yes."

"Why wasn't he elected the third time, then?"

"That's the question for your husband, not me," I answered.

"Who knows," she said seriously, "if Bush had heard about Peter's predictions before, he might have directed or influenced his fate towards the third presidency."

"On the other hand," I added, "somebody might have become curious what conditions would bring Bush to the third presidency. Curious enough, to kidnap your husband to get more information out of him."

"Conditions?"

"Yes, Kate. Your husband says that Bush jr. could have won the third presidency under certain conditions, but he does not reveal them. Somebody, most probably the National security, might be interested in those conditions."

The cell phone in my pocket started to ring. It was Frank, my source of information.

"Any news?" I asked him.

"I found the address of Marija Doval's friend in Paris whom she probably visited," he said.

I jotted down the address into my notebook, thanked him and asked him to continue with his research. I needed his help for the French Police were not very cooperative.

He promised to do the best of his abilities.

9.

In a rented car Kate and I drove to the suburbs of Paris, to a little town named St. Cloud. I remembered it for the Grand Prix Horse racing. The town is about ten kilometers outside Paris and we visited it because the supposed friend of Marija Doval resided there. We did not try to contact her beforehand. Intentionally. Some people are afraid of detectives and police and do everything to avoid them, hide despite the fact that they are innocent. It's better to surprise them.

I was, of course, sure, Marija Doval did not possess Peter's suitcase, but it was my duty not to neglect that possibility either. The duty of a police officer, even though a former one, is to take all options seriously. Being a police officer means that your personal beliefs must be suppressed. Facts and nothing but facts matter. I sincerely hoped to learn more about Peter's most frequently mentioned book PROPHECIES, besides Marija might have noticed if anybody was eavesdropping on their conversation. Or maybe showing interest in Peter. Or maybe, if somebody was secretly watching him. Women, especially communicative, talkative, curious women like Marija Doval, that's how she was described to me, are good observers without being aware of that. If you put the right questions to them they might be a treasure of information. She might have noticed something suspicious at the baggage transfer belt. She arrived there among the first, so she must have been there when somebody stole Peter's suitcase. I was looking forward to meeting her. I was expecting the mysterious story of the disappearance of the suitcase to unravel. Finally, I had the feeling that things started to move from the standstill.

"It seems this is no place for the poor," stated Kate as soon as we entered the city of St. Cloud.

I agreed. Luxurious houses, half hidden behind high garden fences gave the feeling of wealth. We were looking for the number twenty-two and after we had found it, I parked on the pavement and then we got out of the car.

The garden gate was locked.

"It opens electronically," I said. "With the remote control from the car or the house." I kept pressing my finger on the bell.

Nobody answered the bell.

"They are not at home," said Kate. At that moment a red sports car came rushing from around the corner, stopping so jerkily at our side that the brakes gave an odd squeaking noise. Frightened that he might run us over, we jumped back. A bald man stepped out of the car, average height, quite slim, yelling at us:

"Who are you? What are you doing here?"

Nothing makes me angrier than disrespect. Disrespect out of the blue!

I returned the blow: "And who are you to yell at us?"

He took something from his wallet and waved it in front of my eyes. It was a police badge! I read the name: J.E. So that's the fearful J.E., of whom I have heard so much since I arrived in Paris and whom everybody seems to be afraid of, I thought. I started to observe him with interest. He was not old. My estimation was about thirty-five. With his gray eyes, he looked daggers at me. He was waiting for my explanation and I offered it to him! As proudly and haughtily as he did before, I took out of my wallet my badge and waved it under his nose.

He frowned, unbelievingly looked at my badge, and then asked disgustedly, while putting his badge back into his wallet: "And what does that mean? Why are you here? Who sent you?"

"I was hired by this woman," I answered pointing at Kate, "to find her husband who came to lecture to the Sorbonne and then disappeared nobody knows where."

He grimaced. "Oh, yes, I've heard something." Then he said coldly: "The best thing for you two to do is to return home. I am already investigating the case and I don't need any intruders! I'll let you know about the results."

"I don't have the slightest intention to do that! Our government sent me and I intend to stay as long as it takes to find the man!"

We were furiously eyeing each other from head to toe.

"Due to the fact that the Foreigner disappeared in France, the case falls within the exclusive competence of the French authorities," he said roughly. "And you have no business here."

"That's what you think!"

After having quarreled for some time, he finally understood that he would not get rid of me and that we would obviously have to work together here and there. Nevertheless, he arrogantly added: "Don't expect me to tell you what I've discovered!"

After that, he flung himself into the seat of his car and drove off before I had time to warn him to expect the same from me.

"What a conceited person! "said Kate crossly. "Who does he think he is?"

In the window of the nearby house, I noticed an older woman staring at us. I stepped nearer, shouting up to her: "Excuse me, madam, do you happen to know where your neighbor is? She seems not to be at home."

"She went on a journey," she answered after a short hesitation. "Do you, by chance, know where?"

She shook her head.

"Has she had any visitors lately?"

Anger showed on her face when she retorted: "I have already told everything to the police officer who was here a few minutes ago! You met him! Why do you have to ask again?"

"Because we aren't police," I answered. "We came from Slovenia to find the husband of that woman..."

I explained the whole situation and said that we hoped to get some information from the woman who presumably visited her neighbor.

The woman was obviously weighing my story for a few seconds then her head disappeared from the window.

"She's afraid," said Kate. "Everybody is afraid of J.E. We'll get no information anywhere!"

However, the door of the house opened and the woman came out. "Yes, "she said when she joined us, looking sympathetically at Kate, "a woman did come to Anne. "It was last Monday. However, yesterday they went away."

"And you don't know where?" I repeated.

"No. Anne had, in fact, told me that she expected a visit from her friend who was looking for her half-brother or half-sister."

"Half-brother or half-sister? Here in France?"

"I don't know. You know, I am not the nosy kind of a person. I know only what people tell me. I don't push them."

"And she didn't tell you anything?" I insisted, having a strong feeling that she was far from not being nosy. All women are. Especially the elder ones.

"Well," she answered hesitatingly, "the father of Anne's friend presumably met a woman in one of the German camps during the Second World War. They fell in love but soon the war was over and each of them returned to their own country. They never heard of each other again. The father of Anne's friend, her name is Marija, not Mary or Marie, Marija, never told his wife about the woman he had met in the camp. However, he did tell Marija on his deathbed. He told her that the woman was pregnant when they parted and Marija had to give him a promise that she would find her half-brother or half-sister. Therefore, she came to Anne who promised her to help. That's all I know."

"A woman looking for her brother or sister in a foreign country does not steal suitcases!" said Kate thoughtfully when we sat in the car again and immediately added: "I can't get that... that J.E out of my head. What a disagreeable man."

I was hardly listening to her. I was asking myself if we got any useful information. No, I decided. Marija's search for her brother or sister definitely had nothing to do with Peter's disappearance. Looking sideways at Kate I noticed she was in poor spirits, too. We had both expected to find Peter the moment we arrived in Paris yet we were more and more getting lost in the darkness.

After coming back to Paris, I parked in front of a restaurant and Kate looked at me in surprise.

"I invite you to dinner," I said and switched off the engine. "But we have it in the hotel!" she protested.

"Kate, we need a change of the scene after all this," I explained.

"We need to forget Peter's disappearance for a few hours. We need to relax, otherwise we won't be able to go on."

She accepted my explanation without any comment.

The restaurant was nice. Good food and wine and the young, wonderful female dancers, almost naked, helped to my relaxation. As well as to Kate's as I could see. We made jokes and laughed.

"You know, Kate," I heard myself saying, "I feel so comfortable with you this evening that I wish it would never end."

"Never?" she laughed.

"Never ever!" I confirmed. "Besides, "I continued, "what would we lack?"

She looked around the place and then lowered her look at our table laden with good food and drinks and answered still laughing: "Nothing, I suppose." In a somewhat teasing manner, she raised the glass to her lips. I noticed that smile made her younger. Almost attractive. Suddenly, I recognized that she was the woman I had been looking for all of my life. I felt as if I saw her for the first time. Saw her with completely different eyes. I could not believe that this was the same woman who a few hours ago still went on my nerves! Was I blind or what? At this moment, the most beautiful woman was sitting opposite me. And all I wished was to spend the rest of my life with her. I sighed longingly: "Kate, let's stay in Paris. Just the two of us."

Again a sparkle of tease showed in her eyes." And how are we going to explain that to Peter and your wife?"

"Who cares about them! They'll be fine without us, believe me."

I had to struggle against the wish to jump from my seat, run to her and take her into my arms.

She was amused. "Tibor, Tibor, what a naughty man you are."

"Kate, I'm dead serious! Answer me, don't lie, tell the truth: Have you ever been tempted by a wish to leave everything and go somewhere where nobody knows you? To start anew?"

The teasing smile vanished from her face and eyes. All of a sudden, she became serious too. "Do you think things would be any different?"

Her answer was the proof that she was not happy with her life. If she where she would immediately say so. She would say that she did not want things to be different!

"Of course they would!" I exclaimed. "Everything would be different. Life would be different. Better. With all the experiences we have we would..."

"... we would be making the same mistakes if not even bigger," she finished my sentence.

I stretched my arm to the other side of the table, grabbed her hand and pressed it between my palms. She did not withdraw it. Not immediately.

"We would not make any mistakes," I whispered excitedly. "We are too clever for that. We would enjoy life. Nothing but enjoy."

Now she withdrew her hand, looking down at the tablecloth to avoid my eyes. Yet something in her poise showed me that she liked my feverish, caressing look. She wanted to hide it. Was ashamed of it, but she couldn't. Not from me. I was, I still am, one of the greatest experts on women in the world!

I glanced at the watch. It was late.

"Shall we return to our hotel?" I asked. She agreed immediately. When we were outside, she stretched out her hand: "Give me the keys, Tibor, I'll drive."

"Why? Do you think I am drunk?"

A small laugh escaped her mouth. "No, Tibor, but because of the police on the road it would be better if you didn't drive."

"My dear Kate," murmured, intoxicated by the good wine and new love, "I can't refuse you anything. I am nothing but a helpless sparrow in your hands. You can do with me whatever you want. You bewitched me!"

She laughed, sat on the driver's seat, I sat next to her and we drove off.

When we were standing in front of the door of her room, I lost my self-control, grabbed her and kissed her violently. She pushed me away. Not rudely, yet determinedly.

"Kate," I whispered faintly, "I like you. I'd like to spend the night with you. I know you feel the same, Kate..."

"Go into your room, Tibor, and get a good sleep," she said, vanished inside and slammed the door.

Disappointed and angry I went into my room. I felt too restless to sit or lie down, so I started to pace up and down not knowing what to do. Suddenly such an unbearable longing for my wife overcame me that I reached for the phone and called her. She answered it with a sleepy, scared voice.

I exclaimed in surprise: "For God's sake, are you already sleeping?"

"Of course I am," she said out of breath, "it is two in the morning!"

"Two?" I murmured, surprised that it was so late or better, so early.

"Has something happened, Tibor? Something bad?"

"No, no," I hurried. "I just wanted to tell you that I am fine and you needn't worry..."

She raised her voice. "You want to tell me that you are fine at two in the morning? Where were you the whole day? I was waiting for your call! And yes, I was worried!"

"Jenny, you know I can't call when I'm working!"

"Well, now that you are fine, we can both go to sleep! Good night!" And she hung up.

Not bothering to take my clothes off, I threw myself all dressed on the bed. I was offended. You would expect from your wife to tell you how she missed you, how she felt lonely without you, wouldn't you? She didn't care a damn about where I was and how I was! She yawned and went back to sleep. Just like that! If she really went to sleep, of course. Women are never to be trusted. Who knows what was going on in my home when I was away. What was going on in my own bedroom! In my bed!

The thought catapulted me out of bed again. I must immediately go home! This time, I'll catch her in the act! For forty years I had been suspecting that she was cheating on me. No, no, in fact, there was absolutely no doubt about that. I knew she was having an affair when I was off. Working. Making money for both of us. I knew it! Each cell in my body knew it. The problem was that I could not prove it. She was as cunning as a fox. All women are! Most than anything in the world, I wished to get the proof. That's why I often unexpectedly returned home from my business travel. To get her in the act! But my wife must have the sixth sense or something because I always found her alone, innocently (I never believed her innocence, of course) cooking or ironing or sitting in her armchair with knitting in her lap. Or sleeping. She always accepted me with a broad smile on her face, which made me furious. She was making a fool of me! Yet, despite all my detective skills, she never admitted her adultery. Of course, she was lying!

Ask whoever you wish and he will confirm you that I have always been a good husband to her. So there is no need, no need at all to flirt with other men. In fact, it's a shame she does. She has never lacked anything! We have sex frequently, even at our age, not because I want it so much, but because I want to prove to her that I am better at it than her lover. I don't blame her for having one or more lovers. Not at all! All I want from her is the truth. Confession. If she told me who her lover was, I would forgive her everything. I would understand. What hurts are lies. It hurts so much that I often think of divorce. But I know myself. I would have no peace if I didn't come to the bottom of her adultery first. That's why I am staying with her. I am waiting for the moment of truth.

I felt my anger rising. I lay down on my bed again to calm down before packing my bag and going to the airport. Of course, I must go home! This time, this time... My eyelids became heavy. I closed my eyes. For a minute, I told myself, I'll rest just for a minute, then...

10.

Loud banging on the door woke me up. Confused, at first not even knowing where I was, I jumped out of bed, ran to the door and flung it open. After that, I found myself face to face with the inspector J.E.!

"What the hell..."

"We have to talk!" He entered my room without waiting to be invited.

"What about?" I asked angrily. "About your foreigner!"

I stared at him wide-eyed. "What foreigner? I don't know any 'my 'foreigner!"

"Tell me about his criminal record or don't you chase criminals in your country," he continued coldly.

"Whose record, for God's sake?"

"You know whose! Of the one with the lost suitcase!"

"Oh, you mean Peter Otrin?"

He did not answer. A trace of a wry smile played across his lips. I didn't like it. It was the smile of somebody who was preparing an ugly attack.

"Don't make a fool of me," he growled. "You know perfectly well what I am talking about!"

"I don't have the slightest idea what you are talking about!"

"Your man smuggled a suitcase of explosives into our country, into France. He wants to blow up a... Who knows what. My duty is to find him as soon as possible to prevent the catastrophe. And yours is to help me!"

I couldn't help laughing. "So it is true that you believe all this rubbish? I was certain that people were exaggerating!"

"The woman, who sat beside him in the plane, is his accomplice not a thief! "he yelled.

"Don't yell at me! The woman is neither a thief nor an accomplice. She is an old, retired professor, who..."

"Those are most dangerous! Old women who can trick anybody, pretending to be harmless. And the criminals are well aware of that! They know that the customs officers would examine their suitcases thoroughly, but they would never examine a suitcase of an old woman with an idiotic smile on her face! My investigations show that I am right. Her luggage was examined neither in Madrid nor in London, Rome, Berlin, Tunisia, Djerba or Egypt!"

I looked at him open-mouthed. "Has she been to all these places?"

"Yes, she has! And, as you probably remember, there were destructive explosions in all of them!"

"I sincerely hope you don't connect the explosions with the old lady," I said, shocked.

"Of course I do! She was in each city exactly at the time of the explosion!"

"But that's no proof..."

"That is a very strong proof!"

"For God's sake, Peter Otrin never before traveled anywhere! If the lady had anything to do with the explosions in Madrid, Rome, Egypt, Istanbul, he didn't. Paris is his first travel abroad."

"There is no need for him to travel anywhere. The greatest terrorists act from behind. From home. They have collaborators all over the world! Usually the collaborators do the dirty job for their leaders. The leader, your Foreigner is pulling all the strings from behind! However, the sudden appearance of him, of the Leader in Paris, shows that they are preparing a special action! The greatest destruction till now! They have chosen Sorbonne as their headquarters and a place from where orders are being sent to the collaborators."

"Peter Otrin is lecturing not giving orders!" "His lectures are nothing but disguise!"

"And his students are terrorists?"

J.E.'s face twisted in a grimace. "Some of them are and it won't be long before I track them down!"

"How?"

He didn't answer right away. I saw that he was weighing whether to tell me or not.

"By cracking the codes," he said at last.

I gaped from astonishment. "What codes?"

"The moment I heard the first sentence of his 'alleged' lecture, I knew he was speaking in codes! He was giving orders to some 'alleged' students in the lecture room!"

"Codes? You have found codes in his notes?"

I couldn't believe it! I have already read many pages of his notes, yet I found nothing.

He looked at me with an evil grin. "I didn't find them. He himself told them! All you have to do is listen carefully. But of course, "he added contemptuously, "you have to have the ear for that!"

He was sure I did not have it and he almost convinced me. Have I really not understood Otrin's lectures correctly?

He pulled a bunch of papers out of his pocket and waved it in front of my face. "They are all in here!"

"Lectures?"

"Exactly, "he said victoriously. "I jotted down all of the codes! All of them! I am working on them and it will not take long till I decipher them all! I'm very very near!" He shoved the papers into his pocket again.

I felt stupid. Have I really overlooked such an important information? Was I too stupid to recognize it?

"May I ask you to show me the codes? "It was time to become polite, to give an impression of humbleness. "I might be able to decipher them. You know, I am a Slovenian and many words in his notes are written in the Slovenian language, so..."

"All I want from you is to tell me whether he has a criminal record or not!"

Even though he was yelling again, I tried to be most cooperative. I told him that Peter Otrin had no criminal record. He had never been convicted of an offence, not even a road traffic offence. Of course, I did not tell him that Peter was not a car driver.

But my cooperation was terminated by his next words: "That's exactly what I thought! To escape the hands of justice, criminals in your country need nothing but bring a roasted piglet and a goblet of wine to certain people! And what happens then? They come to us, threaten us and we have to do the job you should have done long ago! We have to put them behind the bars! You damn mafia!"

I felt my eyes bulge in fury. "You'll apologize for that!"

Instead, he turned on his heel and marched away.

I was standing in the middle of the room, breathing heavily when Kate came in.

"What happened?" she asked frightened.

I told her about my conversation with J.E.

"What are you going to do? Sue him? He offended us. He offended our country!"

I shook my head." No, Kate, I won't. We have more important work to do. We have to find your husband. J.E. mentioned a code that Peter presumably used to send secret messages to his people. Do you know anything about that?"

Kate took a breath. "A code? Secret messages? That man is insane!"

"I know, Kate, but according to him your husband came to Paris to send his coded messages to his terrorist assistants. He is convinced that among those who came to his lectures were terrorists as well. In his opinion, your husband is the leader of the whole net of terrorists."

Kate hid her face into her palms. "Oh, my God, where is this leading?" she moaned desperately. "The situation is getting worse and worse! How is it possible that Peter is suddenly accused of such terrible things? Why? Why, Tibor? "

I shrugged helplessly. I had no answer and could not offer her any comfort.

She grabbed my hand, saying pleadingly: "Tibor, I hope you don't believe that devil, that J.E.! I hope you don't believe those who wish him evil!"

I reassured her that I did not believe J.E. even though deep in me I have always been carrying a feeling that in this world everything is possible. But before you condemn somebody you have to find proofs for his crime. I didn't have any proofs for or against Peter being a terrorist, so my duty was to remain cautious. Not to exclude anything.

"Shall we continue reading Peter's lectures?" Kate asked and I promised we would after breakfast.

"But first I have to dress," I added. I expected her to leave my room but to my surprise, she didn't. She stepped to the window and I undressed and dressed behind her back. The events of the previous evening began to creep into my mind. I remembered how I had tried to seduce her. I blushed and was happy she didn't see me.

During our breakfast, we discussed the events of the past days. Those connected with Peter, of course. We were careful not to mention the last evening.

"Do you think they are torturing him," she asked, tears in her eyes. "Of course not," I said reassuringly, but then spoiled everything by adding, unintentionally, it just escaped my mouth: "I am sure he is somewhere with that student girl."

Her hazel eyes became dark with anger. "Tibor," she said sharply, "you are completely wrong! He is not that kind of a man, I told you!"

"Every man is that kind of a man," I answered. What I could not understand at that moment was my renewed wish to take her in my arms. What the hell was happening to me? I liked women, of course, but she was neither pretty nor young! Besides, she was my wife's friend and we were together in Paris to find her husband she obviously loved! What the hell was the matter with me? Why did I find her so attractive? Because of her sadness? Or was I attracted to her because we were far from home, alone among people who cared a damn about us? Is it possible that in the moments of loneliness one tries to find comfort with somebody he does not even know or trust, not caring about her looks and age? Or was I attracted to her just because she was the only woman within the reach? Or because I again felt a pang of jealousy? It was so strange when I was away from my wife. I knew she was not cheating on me, yet I could not get rid of a whispering voice telling me that at exactly that moment she was lying in the arms of her lover. There were moments when I thought the pain would kill me. To get rid of the pain, I had to take revenge! The revenge was going to bed with the first woman who was willing to. And to tell the truth, there were some who were. Not often, but it happened. Later I felt guilty and also angry. Angry with my wife who forced me into this!

"Tibor," repeated Kate stubbornly, "I know my husband. His disappearance did not happen by his own will. And not because of a girl or a woman."

We were just leaving the restaurant. I put my arm around her shoulders but withdrew it immediately, afraid she would shake my hands off her and leave. Two days ago, I would be happy if she left me. I like working alone. At that moment, I wanted her company. "Kate, let's roam the streets of Paris today," I suggested.

"Are we not going to read?"

"Reading can wait."

Kate looked at me disappointingly, so I added hastily: "On the streets of Paris we might come across some new information about Peter. We are going to ask people..." I made up as many reasons as I could think of to justify my wish to go to the city and finally she agreed to join me.

First we went to the top of the famous Eiffel Tower. Not on foot. By lift. Kate was afraid of the height so she clung onto my hand, which did me good. We both agreed that the view from the top was wonderful. The sky was clear and we could admire the whole Paris and its surrounding.

"It was worth the effort," stated Kate. "Despite the fear. Thank you, Tibor. Without you I wouldn't have made it."

I drew her gently to my chest. She withdrew immediately. Our next point was Notre Dame. We took the underground.

"I'd like to lit a candle," whispered Kate. "For Peter's safe return. "

I frowned. "I doubt candles help."

To tell the truth, I felt somehow hurt because she was thinking of nothing else but him. The feeling was funny, of course, I had no right to it, besides we came to Paris to find him, yet...

"They might not help him," she answered, "but they will help me. Lighting candles in a church gives me the feeling that I did something good for somebody. When I focus on the person, pray for him, I am sure I drew the attention of a higher existence to this person, which cannot be bad."

I made no comments. To tell the truth, I hate the ridiculous talk of the positive energy that has lately flooded the world. Everybody suddenly became a guru, preaching the positive thinking, as if he had invented it! And as if thinking could change the world. It cannot change anything at all. The starved cannot be sated by positive thinking. Peter will not be found by a candle but by me! However, not to ruin the day, I decided to suppress my anger. Before going to the church, we leaned against the stonewall encircling the place to admire the breathtaking view over the river Seine and its surrounding.

"I cannot tell you how guilty I feel admiring all this beauty while poor Peter is who knows where, exposed to who knows what bad treatment," said Kate emotionally.

I hastened to comfort her. "Kate, being sad or cry over him will not help to find him, believe me. And stop worrying! Trust me when I say that he is fine."

She looked at me gratefully.

Then I suggested having a look at the Notre Dame surrounding first. With the illustrated brochure in our hands, we strolled around the church, making the longest stay at the three portals, Portal of the Virgin, Portal of the Last Judgment and Portal of St-Anne. They impressed us most. When we were at the back side of the church, Kate suddenly pulled my sleeve and pointed to the left, towards the bush by the wall. A man was kneeling there, digging in the soil with his bare hands.

"It's J.E.," she whispered. "I saw his face!"

"J.E.?" I asked unbelievingly. "He can't be!"

"But he is," she insisted. "I saw him!"

"I'll take a closer look," I said, yet she did not let go of my sleeve. "No, Tibor, let him alone. I smell difficulties."

Of course, I did not listen to her. I headed for the bush with Kate close to my heels. He must have heard or felt us, for he suddenly jumped up, breathing heavily, his hands covered with mud up to his elbows.

"Oh, it's you," I pretended to be surprised.

If looks could kill, we would be dead at that moment. "What do you want?" he yelped. "Why are you here?"

I innocently threw my arms in the air. "We are tourists, J.E. Tourists."

"Tourists are pests for our country," he spat through clenched teeth.

"That's the most stupid thing I've ever heard," I exclaimed. "Each country struggles for more tourists because tourists bring money."

"Tourists bring trouble! The mob that comes here is destroying our sacred land! Do you really believe they are interested in sightseeing? Don't be naïve! Sightseeing is nothing but disguise! Under it, they seek possibilities, illegal, of course, how to settle in our country, together with the hordes of their relatives and friends. Just peep in our restaurants, hotels and shops! Who do you see? The French? Mistaken!" He pointed to an Asian group of tourists. "You can hardly see any French in our cities! They have been driven out of them and then occupied by those and those alike! If I were in power, I would immediately send them back to where they belong, dirty rats!"

He was waving his muddy hand so vigorously that pieces of mud flew all around him.

"Are you looking for anything special?" I asked him to stop his anger that might cause trouble.

"None of your business!"

"If your search is connected with Peter Otrin, then it is my business, too!"

"Who says it is connected with him?"

"It is hard to believe that you are digging for buried treasure!" I answered mockingly.

Not answering, J.E. dropped to his knees again and resumed digging. People began to gather. That was probably the last thing J.E. wanted. He jumped to his feet, trembling all over his body with fury. Pointing his muddy finger to me, he shouted: "If you don't leave immediately, I'll have you arrested!"

"Arrested," I asked, looking at him as innocently as I could, "what for?"

"For insulting an official!"

Kate again pulled my sleeve, whispering: "Let's go, Tibor. Let's go." But, I am a very stubborn person. When somebody tries to force me into something, I don't do it, no matter what. I jerkily shook Kate's hands off my sleeve.

"Well," I answered triumphantly, "in that case it is my duty to charge you with an insult of an official as well. We can handcuff each other if you agree. "

"You an official?" he scoffed. "Don't make me laugh!"

"You saw my badge!"

"Yes, a forged one! I know the Balkans like the back of my hand! All of you are nothing but thieves, forgers, mafia!"

I've really had enough of his insults. "You damn fool," I shouted, clenching fists, ready to punch him in the face. "Who do you think you are? I came here to find our citizen and I'll find him whether you like it or not!"

Kate was trying to drag me away, begging me: "Don't Tibor, don't! Don't you see that he wants just that? If you hit him, he'll have you where he wants to have you! He'll corner you. Let's go. Leave him alone."

Her words brought me to my senses. She was right. I dropped my arms, unclenched fists. And so did J.E. With a nervous gesture, he loosened the collar of his shirt that must have squeezed him, half turned to leave, but before he did, he had to vent some more anger on me.

"You damn, stinking Balkan, African, Asian and another mob, you flooded the whole world! You... you... thieves! Rascals! If I were our government, I would wall you up in those hen houses of yours!"

"That's why you are not the government," I retorted.

"I'll find a way to get rid of you! Believe me, I will," he hissed and left.

It was then that I became aware of how many tourists gathered around us.

"Let's go into the church," I said to Kate and she followed me without a word. People stepped apart to let us pass through, observing us with interest.

There was nobody in the church, so I coughed loudly and immediately an elderly monk appeared. He asked what we wished.

"We saw a man, digging in your garden," I began politely, "and we wondered, hmm, I mean, if you could tell us..."

He laughed, rolling his eyes: "Ah, I guess you have met our famous Police inspector. So he came back."

"What is he looking for? Something special? Da Vince's code maybe?" The church was Notre Dame and when I saw J.E. digging under the wall the famous book Da Vinci's Code immediately came to my mind. I read it only a few weeks before and enjoyed.

The priest had to cover his mouth with his hand to silence his laughter. He shook his head: "No, no, no code. He is looking for a suitcase."

That was beyond our expectation!

"A suitcase?" I exclaimed, looking at Kate's open mouth while in my mind I was asking myself if J.E. had again unraveled a puzzle I had overlooked. Did he find out that someone had brought the suitcase to this church? Peter Otrin himself? Why?

"What suitcase?" I repeated.

The monk shrugged, saying apologetically. "I wouldn't know. He didn't tell me. He asked me if I had seen anybody entering the church with a suitcase, but didn't believe me when I told him that I hadn't."

"You won't believe," he continued, shaking his head in wonder, "he searched the church from bottom to top, knocked on all walls and tiles on the floor and finally almost turned over the altar! Then, thanks God, he started murmuring words bush, spring, temple, bush- spring-temple and hurried out into the garden where he started digging into the soil under a bush."

Now, it dawned on me what J.E. was doing. He really was as mad as a hatter!

"Why does that police officer interest you?" the monk asked and I answered that he did not, we were just curious having seen him on his knees in the middle of the bush. We thought the church did not know it and came in to tell.

I hoped God would pardon me for my lies.

"That's nice of you," said the monk gratefully, opened a drawer and gave each of us a postcard with the picture of Notre Dame on the front side. "As a souvenir," he said.

We thanked and left.

"I can't believe it," said Kate laughingly on the way out. "The fool thinks that the woman who was on the plane with Peter had not only stolen his suitcase but brought it to this church and buried it!"

"I know how he came to this idea, "I said." Do you remember when we read in Peter's notes that the name Bush means the name of the most sacred spring under the Temple?"

Kate nodded and I continued: "J.E. obviously thinks that this is a code. The spring is the river Seine, the Temple is the Notre Dame church and Bush is a bush. He sees in each of Peter's word a code. That's it. A code!"

"Nowadays the whole world has gone crazy with codes," said Kate crossly, leaning with her elbows on the wall, gazing down to the shimmering water.

"What if Peter is not alive anymore?"

I wound my arm around her waist. She didn't object. On the contrary. She laid her head on my shoulder and seizing the chance, I gently kissed the top of her head. "Of course he is alive," I reassured her. "And we'll find him. I promise you."

She awarded me with a thankful smile.

"Shall we continue sightseeing?" I asked. She said no and arm in arm we went back to our hotel. On foot, for it was near. Being so close to her, feeling her breast against my arm, I felt almost irresistible lust for her. I struggled against it, however it was becoming stronger and stronger.

"We have an hour before lunch," she said when we were standing in front of the door of her room. My eyes were dimmed with emotions; I could hardly see her. "I'll lie down a bit. I'm tired."

I stepped behind her back, embraced her tightly, turned her to me and kissed her passionately. I felt her struggle, but I did not care, I wanted her, I needed her and I was going to have her!

Using all her force that to my surprise was stronger than I had expected from such a tiny, fragile woman, she pushed me away. She was breathless and angry.

"What is it?" I asked, feeling peeved. "We both want it, don't we?"

"Maybe you do, I certainly don't!"

"Don't lie, Kate," I said angrily. "Don't you think we both are too old to play hide-and-seek? You were sending me signs the whole morning..."

"Sending you signs? Are you crazy?" she shouted.

"Yes, Kate. Leaning your head on my shoulder, holding my arm,..."

"You are sick, Tibor! I thought you were my friend. I had a nice time. I was grateful to you for offering me comfort. I did not expect this!"

"Expect what? Expect me to like you? What's wrong with that?" I stretched my hand towards her to gently pat her cheek, saying conciliatorily: "Kate, don't be angry, I love you! I have never in my life loved a woman so much. I..."

She punched me in my chest with such a force that I nearly fell. Then she disappeared into her room, slamming the door behind her with a loud thud. She even locked it.

That pissed me off. My first impulse was to break the door. I felt so stupid! So humiliated. She had been teasing me, seducing me for two days and after she saw she had reached the aim, bringing me to the unbearable, she pushed me away like a brat! She double-crossed me! Insulted me! I had the whole right to take by force what she had been promising me! Offering me!

But I changed my mind. I would only bring more trouble into my life, which was the last thing I wanted. I went into my room and threw myself on the bed.

At that moment, I hated women more than anything in the world. They were all alike. First they provoked you and when you wanted to take what they were offering, they accused you of attacking them, behaving as some damn virgins. I decided never again to let them get near me. Never again! Especially not the hags. I knew exactly what they had in mind. Some years ago, a friend of my wife's started to seduce me. Invited me even to her home on a pretext she needed to talk to someone who would listen to her, understand her. She believed I was the right person. I was honored, of course. And it did me good especially because my wife was constantly reproaching me that I was unable to listen to anybody except to myself and that I didn't have the slightest idea how to offer comfort.

This woman said I was the most considerate man she had ever met. Her problem was her husband. She thought he was cheating on her. She was desperate and needed an understanding soul. I did everything to calm her down, however, when I left her she was still distressed. So I came again the next day. She said my visits helped her immensely.

One evening, when we were again sitting on the sofa in her sitting room, she unexpectedly, while complaining about her husband, leaned towards me. She was so close that I couldn't avoid seeing her breasts. I was more than sure that she was offering herself to me. It was like saying: Take me! Take me! I managed to keep myself in control for quite a long time but suddenly I could not endure the torture anymore and I grabbed her. She struggled, but as all women struggle for sheer pleasure, I took no notice of it and did what I simply had to do! What I was expected to do.

After that, I had to go through hell! She threatened to sue me. If she did, my marriage would be ruined and I would lose my job.

When I was waiting for the Doomsday, depressed and desperate, she called me. Not to threaten again but to tell me, she could not stop thinking of me! To tell, she would like us to meet again, to start from the beginning. She said she had never had such a lover!

"Darling, my love," she chirped, "come to me this evening. Please..."

"I taped this conversation," I cried into the phone, "and if you don't let me in peace, this time it will be I who will sue you!"

I don't know how the idea entered my mind, but it saved me. I have never seen her again.

Looking at the door, I said through clenched teeth: "You'll come back begging for it, Kate, but I tell you, no woman will ever make a fool of me again!"

Picking up Peter's notes from my desk, I settled myself comfortably on the bed again, with pillows behind my back, and started reading.

It was difficult to concentrate, but I wished more than ever to find Peter and return home as quickly as possible.

11.

Reliving all the information I had found in Otrin's writings, I hoped to find tangible traces or leads to him. In vain. There were none. At least, I did not see them. All I had were presumptions and unanswered questions. Was he kidnapped or not and if he was, by whom? And what was the purpose? To silence him or to get out of him some information? About what? About all the Jerusalems? Does somebody desperately want to know into which city the sacred content was moved? According to Peter, the sacred content had to leave Palestine because of the hatred and constant fight with Israel.

In the same way as hundreds of years ago, the holy Family, Mary with Jesus and Joseph, had to run. Who on earth would be interested in the new holy city? Who on earth would believe such nonsense? Religious people probably. And those who are filling their pockets with the money of churchgoers. For example, as soon as somebody announces he has seen Virgin Mary somewhere, crowds of people rush there, and the travel agencies lick their chops knowing they'll be benefited by people's stupidity. It's impossible to even imagine the benefits and wealth a holy city would bring to its discoverer.

The next thing Peter was talking about were trinities. Leading trinities as a continuation of Abraham, Lot, and Sarah. To me, all this was nonsense, but it might have not been to those who were named as members of such trinities. One of them or all of them might feel hurt, insulted. They might have decided to revenge. Maybe even to kill Peter.

As for Bush jr., he, in fact, didn't have a reason to feel insulted. Having been described as the Abraham of today, he was given better characteristics than he, in my opinion, deserved. Only the best is allowed to communicate with God. That's what I think. If Peter saw Bush as the best, that was no offence! However, Bush might not be glad to be connected to Laden. Peter tried to prove that relationship between the two was similar to the relationship between Abraham and Lot, ignoring that Abraham and Lot were relatives, which Bush and Laden were not. Nevertheless, they were in a friendly relationship at the beginning, just like Abraham and Lot. And just like Abraham and Lot they later encountered disagreements that led to their separation. In the case of Bush and Laden, the disagreements even caused hatred.

Well, according to my information, this similarity, a sort of friendship at first and some disagreements later that led to the separation of the two, might be true. Of course, it would be possible that Bush did not like being reminded of the first part, of a close friendship and would try to silence Peter. That was one possibility I shouldn't neglect.

What about Blair, I asked myself. Could he feel offended? No, I didn't think so. Lot was not a bad person, so being his adequate is no offence. And according to his character and his deeds it was obvious that he, Blair, was not a direct adequate of Laden but of Lot.

The only one, who might not like being an adequate of another person, might be the Queen. She might not like hints that she behaved towards the Princess Diana in the same way as Sarah did towards Hagar. That she did not like Diana. That Diana suffered because of her. However, Peter merely told or hinted what he had heard from the media. He didn't make it up. On the other hand, he stated that it might not even be true.

In my opinion, none of them had any reason whatsoever to make an attempt on Peter's life. Yet I was smart enough to be aware that different people see things differently. Others might find the same things, which I find harmless, harmful. Besides, if somebody decides to pick holes in what you say or do, he will pick them, no matter what. J.E. will find them, of that I was sure. He already did. Besides, God knows how many other J.E.s were after Peter. J.E.s who believed that Peter was a terrorist and that the names he used in his lectures were nothing but secret codes. Bush, mentioned in Peter's lectures, was to J.E. not a person but a bush under which Peter's suitcase was buried. A suitcase full of explosives. I'd like to know how J.E. deciphered other names. Despite taking him for a crazy guy, I could not completely ignore his assumptions. Until I found proofs to confirm the opposite, until I knew more, they would have to stay one of the possibilities.

Therefore, I resumed my research. Resumed reading. I didn't read two sentences when the phone interrupted me. It was the receptionist. He told me that the Head of the Sorbonne, Mr. Pearson, was on the line, saying that he urgently wanted to speak to me.

"J.E. visited me," said Mr. Pearson somewhat breathlessly. "Do you want to know what's on his mind?"

"Of course I do!"

He asked me to come to his office because he did not want to discuss this over the phone. This time, I did not invite Kate with me.

I did not even tell her I was going out. I just did not want to burden her with my thoughts. No, no, the truth is, I did not want to see her anymore!

"Do you know that he was digging around the cathedral of Notre Dame?"

Mr. Pearson asked me after we shook hands and sat into the armchairs. "He's gotten it into his head that your man had buried his suitcase with explosives under a bush!"

"I know,"I said with a smile. "I was there when he was on his knees under that bush."

I told him the whole story.

"He searched my house," added Mr. Pearson.

"Searched your house?" I stared at him disbelievingly.

"Why?"

"He was looking for the Foreigner."

I couldn't believe my ears! "In your house?"

Mr. Pearson nodded. "He did not openly accuse me of hiding him, of course, he tried to wrap his opinion into a kind of worry for me and my family. He warned me that terrorists might enter the house and make it their base without the knowledge of the owner and that in such a case the owner and his family were in great danger. Before terrorists left the house they, as a rule, killed the whole family."

"What a considerate man," I mocked.

He burst into a short, amused laugh. "He is, isn't he?"

"What worries me," I said, "is that somebody gave that fool the search warrant. This means that there is somebody out there, there might be even a group of people, who obviously believe him."

"You are right," sighed Mr. Pearson. "That worries me, too. But at the same time I have to admit that I understand them as well. We are living in the time of an increasing threat of terrorism in the world, so authorities have to be cautious. You have probably heard about political unrest in our country. About vandalism, the protests. Especially in the neighborhood of Paris."

"Of course I have. You were in all news."

"There you are! French authorities are very cautious about foreigners and they take each warning very seriously."

"Well, be responsible for security of a country is certainly not an easy job," I admitted. "However, security policy is too often abused by those who don't care whether foreigners endanger their country or not. They just hate all foreigners and want them to return to their own country, not asking if it is safe or not. Whether their own country is capable of giving them means for survival or will it let them die of hunger and illnesses."

"You are right, "nodded Mr. Pearson." Nevertheless, I understand people's fear of foreigners, let us say migrants and refugees. They are scared that after the jobs, houses, flats, places in kindergartens and schools have been given to the foreigners, there won't be left enough for them."

"Well, with a proper explanation, reassurance from the government, people would understand that they have nothing to fear and the abusers wouldn't be so successful in igniting hatred in them," I said. "This unnecessary hatred often causes violent reaction in immigrants, the police react even more violently and the foundation for terrorism is laid. On both sides."

"Which makes people like J.E. heroes, "said Mr. Pearson with bitter smile. "They think they have been called to put things in order on their own."

"And make things even worse," I concluded.

Have you read the taped lectures I gave you last time?" asked Mr. Pearson after a moment's silence.

"A lot of it. Not all."

He shoved a sheet of paper across the table. "So you've come across those names?"

I read: Karsag, Ur, Worms, Eboracum or York, New York, Jerusalem, New Jerusalem.

"Of course I have," I said. "And what do they mean?"

"Those are the names for Jerusalem."

Mr. Pearson laughed. "That's what you think! To J.E., they are codes for places that are going to be attacked. New York has already been, now it's other cities turn to suffer and in the end the whole Earth. Namely, J.E. managed to decipher the Foreigner's sentence: And destroyed will be all the cities on the Earth and the land will be made completely barren. According to J.E., the Foreigner is a terrorist who will blow up the Earth!"

"As I remember this is Otrin's prediction of the destruction of the World which will happen in about 350.000 years," I answered. "Exactly! I tried to explain this to J.E. In vain, of course. He kept saying that the Foreigner was the leader of the world terrorist net and believe me or not, he is convinced that I am a part of it."

"No, kidding," I exclaimed. However, as I like to be direct, I asked an, so to say, impolite question. "Excuse me, but is there any reason for him to believe that?"

"Well, I was the one who invited Mr. Otrin to the Sorbonne. Besides, I'm married to a non-French. A big reason enough."

"Is J.E. not a foreigner himself? Is he not a Belgian by birth?"

"Of course he is. Yet, instead of feeling inferior he feels superior. In his opinion, Belgium has the leading role among the countries that represent Europe. Old, real Europe. They are Belgium, France and Great Britain, as you probably know. The union of good old Europe."

"What about the other members of the European Union?"

"They are not in Europe, according to him, and have no right to be included. They are manure, giving off their stink all over Europe.

That fool is strutting around as proud as a peacock because Brussels, his native country, is the seat of the European Union. And he never forgets to mention that he has traced his family roots back to the twelfth century and that it has never ever come to mixing their blood with foreigners. They are, to the last drop, pure Belgians."

"Another Hitler!" I exclaimed angrily. "As for the pure blood, well, it's obvious that something is terribly wrong with him, isn't it? It must be the pure blood. As far as I remember from history, most of the members from the purest families were insane. Am I right?"

A wry smile played on his face. "But he's not aware of that. On the contrary. He says that he would shoot, without the slightest hesitation, anybody in his family who would dare mix his blood, their family blood, their pure Belgian blood with foreigners. I tell you, Tibor, that man is a devil and that's the reason why I called you. To warn you. To tell you that it is of the highest importance, especially for Mr. Otrin, that you take the case into your hands and find Mr. Otrin before J.E. does. I tell you, if he goes on with this case not only Otrin will end on a guillotine but half of the French citizens as well."

"So, who is the terrorist now?" I exclaimed and then added thoughtfully: "I know. The problem is, you know, that he has so many advantages over me... Nevertheless, I'll do my best. At this moment, I must admit that no trace that I managed to find leads anywhere. I'm fumbling around in the dark."

"I am still convinced that one of the governments had Otrin arrested," he said.

I doubtfully shook my head. "My friend, a member of our Department of State, got in contact with CIA, FBI and Scotland Yard, but they all denied having anything to do with Otrin. Nevertheless, they admitted they had been informed about his lectures. "I threw a quick look at Mr. Pearson. "It seems you have a 'spy' on the Sorbonne."

He laughed. "Not only on the Sorbonne, my dear friend! We have them everywhere! And so do you! Don't be naïve. However, as I am no criminal, I take them as my safety."

"J.E. can hardly be taken as your body guard," I joined him in laughter.

"There are always exceptions," he added and got up. "But let's forget J.E. for a minute. I have influential friends on high positions too and I'll try to learn more about this case. What interests me at this moment most is your opinion about the new European Queen mentioned in Otrin's lectures."

"You mean Elisabeth? The Queen of England?"

"No, the new queen! The queen to come!"

"A new Queen? I don't remember reading about her."

"Then read now," he said, handing me his copy of Otrin's lectures. I left mine in the hotel. He went to the door. "I have some things to do. I'll be right back. "

***

S: Is it true that the Pope attacked Provence?

P: It is. The people of Provence believed that Jesus was married to Magdalene, that they had a child, and that they lived in Provence. Therefore, Provence was declared the sacred land. The Pope of Rome did not like these theories. As you know, according to the Christian religion Jesus was never married, never had children and died on the cross. The people of Provence believed he died of natural death. Therefore, they were attacked. The legend says that only four Provence people survived. Two pairs, two women and two men, who later continued the generation of the Merovings. The Merovings are supposed to have saved the Holy Treasure, the Ark of the Covenant, which Magdalene took from Herod's Jerusalem Temple. The legend mentions the existence of five Arks of the Covenant. They are supposedly hidden on five locations all over the world, one of them in Ethiopia.

Jesus' relatives are supposed to have escaped towards Toulouse. Only one branch of his descendants survived. The branch of the Habsburgs, who came to power in Austria in 1272.

S: Are any of Jesus' descendants still alive nowadays?

P: Of course they are. Not long ago I saw one of his descendants on television. Otto of Habsburg. But he is not the only one.

***

Angrily I threw the papers on the desk. Nonsense, nonsense, nonsense! Again nothing but nonsense! I am fed up with it, I murmured to myself. It means nothing! It tells nothing about Peter's disappearance. It gives no clue!

"It does," a voice said behind my back, making me turn sharply. It was Mr. Pearson. I didn't hear him come in. "It does," he repeated, stepped to the bookcase, taking out a book. "It does if you keep in mind that all the questions are asked by Isabelle. Go on reading, you'll find the answer." And again he disappeared.

Having no other choice, I reluctantly went on.

***

S: You wrote somewhere that seven Habsburg souls, those that were meant to rule over Europe, are going to enter human bodies at the same time in seven different places. Six of them are going to give up the throne on behalf of the seventh, the Called and the Elected one. Sir, let me read the passage: The first soul will die as a baby. The second will choose its parents in a Stone Age surrounding. The third will deliberately choose to be mentally handicapped not to develop, to remain on the level of a child. The fourth will choose to be an invalid. The fifth will choose to become too early an old man or old woman. The sixth will deliberately become a victim and the seventh will be the Habsburg, the 'to Egypt called son' (end of quotation). Is that correct, Sir?

P: Of course it is.

S: But didn't you write somewhere that the new European ruler will be a woman?

P: I did.

S: So it can't be Otto of Habsburg? I mean, he cannot be the 'To Egypt called Son', can he'?

P: Of course not! Europe is waiting for a woman. Son has the meaning of a person, male or female. In this case it is female. S: Something else bothers me. You are saying that the new European ruler will be a Meroving, respectively a Habsburg, aren't you?

P: That's right.

S: And she will be a reincarnation of Marat, who lived in the time of the French revolution?

P: Yes.

S: But, sir, Marat wasn't in any way connected to the Merovings or Habsburgs. How can then the new ruler be a Meroving, respectively a Habsburg?

P: Young lady, Marat is closer to the Merovings than you might expect. Etymological research tells us that the name Marat is connected to the name Meroveh, who was the first Merovingian king. So to say, Merovech is the pre-adequate of Marat, giving Marat the possibility to become the king, respectively the ruler. Nevertheless, in the veins of the new European ruler must flow Merovingian blood as well. To conclude, Marat whose connection to the Merovings is based on his name, in fact, lacks the blood connection to the Merovings to become the new ruler. That's why he, respectively she must be born as a Habsburg, for Habsburgs are the only descendants of the Merovings. By blood, I mean. Through this birth and being born as a woman, Marat will fulfill all the demands for the new ruler.

S: But Sir, I still do not understand how Marat, being a murderer, as we know, can be an adequate of the Merovings, so to say, of one in whose veins flows Jesus' blood. Sacred blood. A murderer cannot be an adequate of Meroveh, or of Jesus!

P: History, or rather the period he lived in, did not see him as a murderer. On the contrary! He was worshipped like Jesus. And he was buried with the words of one of the speakers: "Like Jesus, Marat ardently loved the people, and only the people; like Jesus, Marat detested nobles, priests, and rogues, "etc. In Bougeart, vol. ii. pp. 284 sqq, you can read: Whatever may be said as to Marat's connection with the summary executions which took place during the first week in September 1792, nothing is more certain as a matter of fact that he was neither directly nor indirectly responsible for a single one of the executions by the guillotine which occurred between that time and the date of his death. (Wikipedia)

S: But he helped making lists of names of the people who ought to be killed! Thousands of them!

P: Not according to the French writer Alfred Bougeart, as you've just heard.

S: Do reincarnations and adequates act in the same way, as did their incarnations and pre-adequates?

P: Not necessarily. The heritage of their incarnations and pre- adequates is in fact put into their cradle just like the heritage of our ancestors is put into our cradles. But it is up to them and it depends on the surrounding and the period they were born in which part of this heritage they will use.

S: Merovech did not become the king on the basis of succession, but was chosen, wasn't he?

P: You are right. Merovech or Merovius lived in the 5th Century AD. He was a Frankish ruler and grandfather of Clovis. He fought Attila the Hun and gave his name to the Merovingian dynasty.

S: Merovech and Marat do not belong to any trinities, which you described yesterday. Where do they belong? Besides, is the fact that they do not belong to any trinities bad for the new European Marat?

P: No, no, not at all! You have to understand that trinities are not the only group of people who influence a period. There can be a group of four people, five, six, seven etc. And all of them have their adequates in later periods. I have tried to find ten leading persons in each period and their later adequates, but because of the shortage of time, I intend to explain only the trinities. Three people, whose influence is the strongest, which, of course, doesn't mean that the influence of other people is unimportant. I found out that the trinities influence the course of events in the world, while the importance of other people is limited to a certain place. Marat, for example, played an important role in France, the new European ruler will play it in Europe.

S: Who is Marat's and Merovech's pre-adequate? I mean, whose adequate are Marat and Merovech?

P: Adequates of Joseph of Egypt, Abraham's grandson. As an example that not only trinities are important in each period but also other people, I will list ten names of Abraham's period only. You already know the first three: Abraham, Lot and Sarah. Then follow Bethuel (Abraham's nephew), Laban, (Bethuel's son), Joseph of Egypt, Azazel, Eliazar (Abraham's farmhand), Ishmael (Abraham's son), Hagar and Rebekah (Bethuel's daughter). All of these people have adequates in later periods.

S: Can you tell us who they are?

P: As I have mentioned we don't have time for that. But I am ready to tell you after the lecture if you are interested. Nevertheless, I'll give you some examples. In our period, Bethuel's adequate is somebody who will play a big role, a very important one. Sorry to say, I still don't know who he is, I call him Atlantes. Hitler and Stalin were Atlanteses of their time, for example. Who will have most negative, destructive role in the future is not clear yet. All I can say is that a Meroving will fight against him.

The adequate of Laban is Antichrist. He is on his way already, but again I don't know who he is.

The adequate of Joseph Egyptian is the Habsburg, who will sit on the European throne. It will be a woman as I have already told you.

S: Can Atlantes and Antichrist be dangerous to the European ruler?

P: Sure they can.

S: Will you find them? I mean, will you discover who they are?

P: I'm sure I will.

S: Has the new European ruler already been born?

P: She might have been.

S: Which will be the undisputed signs that she is the right person?

P: Hm... One of the signs will be her name. It will be connected to the Merovings etymologically and arrchetonically. The second will be a general resemblance to Marat.

S: Marat was a recluse. He was a physician, which means highly educated and he suffered an unpleasant skin disease. Will the new European ruler have to be like that?

P: Considering that she will be a reincarnation and not only an adequate, I would say yes. Although not necessarily on a physical level. It could happen symbolically. I, personally, would describe her like that: probably a recluse, educated and with a disturbing deficiency in her life. It may not necessarily be bad health. Something hidden. Something in her mind. Soul.

S: Do you have any idea what deficiency?

P: No, I don't. But I think it will bother her and make her feel uncomfortable among people.

S: Marat was murdered by a woman, wasn't he?

P: Yes. He was murdered by Charlotte Corday.

S: Why?

P: She believed he was responsible for the murders of many and that she would save the country only if she killed him. She was beheaded because of that.

S: Will the new European ruler be threatened by another woman? Another Charlotte Corday?

P: Undoubtedly.

S: If Marat is going to be a woman, does that mean that Charlotte Corday will be reborn as a man?

P: I think so. But now, miss, let me finish my theory of the adequates of the first ten of people of the first period. To continue, the sixth is Joseph Egyptian, the next most important beside the trinity. The seventh is Azazel, whose adequate is Princess Diana's Egyptian.

S: Sir, who exactly was Azazel?

P: According to some sources he was the leader of the fallen angels, who came to the Earth and married women. He is supposed to have taught the men how to make weapons, women how to use makeup, he taught them the secrets of witchcraft and corrupted their manners, leading them into wickedness and impurity. Because of all this the angry God ordered the angels to tie him up and take him into the desert, named Dudael, where he was to stay until the great Day of Judgment, when he was to be cast into the fire to be consumed forever.

According to other legends, Azazel is the name of the Scapegoat. By drawing lots, they chose two goats. One was sacrificed to God, the other was sent off into the wilderness to carry the sins of the village people away. (Wikipedia)

Eliazar's adequate is Diana's unborn child...

S: Excuse me sir, but the newest studies show that Diana was not pregnant!

P: I'm not interested in those studies! I have my own. I can guarantee you that Diana was Ishmael's adequate. Hagar's (Ishmael's mother) adequate, is the Jew whom the soldiers of Rome wanted to force to help Jesus carry the cross, but he refused and ran away. From then on, he is on the run and is seen here and there. They call him the Eternal Jew.

Rebecca, Bethuel's daughter and Laban's sister is the tenth in the group of ten people of the period. Her adequate of today was Tenagneworq, the princess of the Ethiopian dynasty, who has died recently. The tradition of this dynasty can be traced as far back as the time of Noah.

A few days ago, I added to this group the elfth. Melkizedek, mentioned by the Old as well as the New Testament as the one who is 'beginningless and endless'. An eternal priest. He was both. The king and the priest, who pre-announced in a way the coming of Jesus. His adequate in our time is Sai Baba.

***

O my God, I sighed. That's too much for me. I can't go on. I put the file on the desk, leaned back in the chair and closed my eyes.

Keep in mind that all the questions were asked by Isabelle, I heard Mr. Pearson's voice in my head.

So what, I argued with it. So what?

She's unusually interested in the new European ruler, isn't she? Too interested...

And? I answered to the voice provocatively. Being interested in someone or something is no crime. It wouldn't be a crime even if she were a member of a group on a secret mission to look for the new European ruler and appoint him or her as the heir to the throne. Only if their intention were to find her, Otrin was sure it will be a woman, wishing to kill her would be a crime...

I opened my eyes. What...? What if...? I grabbed the file to resume reading.

***

S: Why will Marat be born as a woman? Is that a hundred percent sure? Is it possible that he is again born as a man?

P: No, it isn't! My studies show that we are entering the period of matriarchy, which means that a woman or a group of women will control the whole social life. That's why she must be born as a woman.

***

Oh, come on, Professor, I murmured half loudly to myself, you seem to be behind the times. This period is not yet to come; it is already here! It has been here for a few decades. Some men feel it on our own skin. Domination of women was the first information I agreed with!

Mr. Pearson entered the room. "Well, how far have you come?"

I rubbed my tired eyes: "I am reading about ten pre-adequates, ten people in Abraham's time and their adequates in our time. And about who is going to take up the reigns in the world.

"Aha," said Mr. Pearson with an amused smile on his face. "A Merovingian Habsburg, a woman."

I nodded. "Can you tell me more about Joseph Egyptian, who obviously seems very important to Peter Otrin? I am all lost among thousands and thousands of biblical names, he mentions. I do know some, but this is too much!"

"Of course I can," he said kindly. "He was next to the last Jacob's son. Isaac's grandson. Abraham's grand- grandson. His connection with God was noticed when he was still a child. He was much liked and his dreams were foretelling that he would be even more. They foretold him that masses of people would bow before him, kneel in front of him. That aroused jealousy in his brothers, who first intended to kill him but finally changed their mind and threw him into a deep fountain. Some tradesmen found him there and sold him to the Egyptian Pharaoh. When Pharaoh discovered that Joseph was clairvoyant, he gave Joseph a place in his Palace, to be near him.

When Joseph managed to explain Pharaoh's dream, the Pharaoh awarded him by giving him a post of his second-in-command. He gave him his ring and dressed him in robes of linen with a gold chain around his neck. Pharaoh gave him the Egyptian name Zaphenath-paneah and found him a wife. He treated Joseph as equal. Joseph later met his brothers and pardoned them all. He died at the age of one hundred and ten."

"Nice for the new European ruler if she inherits that last characteristic from her adequate," I added humorously.

The phone rang, he picked it up, hurriedly said: "Yes, yes, I am on my way!" He got up, excused himself and went out again.

***

S: What does the European ruler have to pay special attention to to keep the throne? I mean, not to lose it as did the Merovings?

P: She must avoid doing evil and being too aspiring.

S: Can you be more specific?

P: Of course. The generation of the Merovings lost power because they lost holiness. In my opinion it lost holiness because Merovech's relative, Dagobert II, who ruled from 675 to 676, played a mean trick on Corinthian.

S: Played a mean trick? I don't understand.

P: King Samoa, a self-proclaimed Slavic king concluded a trade association with Dagobert II. Dagobert II. sent merchants to Slovenian countries, who in fact weren't merchants but spies. King Samoa killed most of them and Dagobert II used this act as an excuse to attack the Slavs. He won two battles but was defeated in the third and had to return to France.

S: And that is the reason why his generation lost holiness?

P: Yes, one of the reasons. The other was an unnecessary use of a name. Let me explain: the name Dagobert contains the name LACUBERUS, which is the name of the Basque God. By accepting such a name, they probably insulted the Christian god, for it meant that being Jesus' descendants was not enough for them. That way the prime position in the spiritual world was taken from them for as long as their physical ancestors were on the throne, till 1918.

S: Are the Merovings now given back the possibility to return to power?

P: Yes, they are and they will. I told you.

***

I waited for Mr. Pearson to return.

"Is it possible," I asked him, "that this Isabelle has a specific person in mind when asking about the next European ruler?"

He handed me another sheet of paper. "Read the next question. You'll understand in a minute!"

***

Sir, can you explain what the name Isabelle means.

***

I met Mr. Pearson's smiling eyes. "Yes, she is examining her own options to become the next European ruler."

I shook my head in disbelief. "How, for God's sake, did she come to this idea?"

"By reading Otrin's books."

"By reading his books? Does he say in his books that she is one of the..."?

"No, not directly. Indirectly. His answer will tell you what I mean."

***

P: The name is very interesting and indicative. I link the first three letters of the name Isabelle, isa, with the word iron, because gothic word for iron is isarno, Slavic or Slovenian ježe. These words indicate an iron lady from the period of matriarchy, which will soon spread over Europe. The person carrying this name can achieve something really great. Actually, the word Isabelle is connected to the Slovenian word pleh, meaning steel, respectively refined iron. The word pleh is, as far as letters are concerned, the same as the word Pohla, a character in the Finnish national epic poem Kalevala. I've read somewhere that the word Pohla is the same as the word Sarah, so no wonder that Pohla was the Mistress of the Earth, people, money and Sampo, the name of her mint of money. So to say, Isabelle is a very strong name.

S: What about Victoria, sir?

P: Victoria is victory. The Slovenian word for victory is zmaga. And exactly this Slovenian word proves that Victoria is connected with Magdalene. I hope you can hear in the name Magdalene the word zmaga. They both have the same syllable: mag – mag. And they both mean the same: victory.

S: I'm sorry sir, but to me these words sound completely different. P: I'll prove it to you that they are the same. Slovenian word for victory is zmaga, as I have just told you. Latin word for victory is sigi. Both words begin with the same first letter: s/z.

The next letter that they both have is letter m. Magdalene – Victoria...

S: I don't see or hear any m in the word Victoria!

P: Every linguist will tell you that in the course of language development, some sounds changed their qualities; in fact, they became other sounds. One of the most common changes is the change of the sound v into the sound m. The next is changing of the sound m into the sound n. Hence, it follows that victoria becomes mictoria, Slovenian zmaga. So Victoria has m, just like Magdalene. Finally, I must mention that the words Magdalene and Victoria in Slovenian translation zmaga, of course, contain the syllable mag. It is an important syllable because we can find it in the Persian word Magopat. Do you see now how connected are Victoria and Magdalene?

S: Who are Magopats?

P: Magopats were the Three Holy Kings.

S: I'm sorry to say, but I don't see any connection among Magopats and Victoria or Magdalene.

P: The word Mag, present in all three names has the meaning of victory, of great power. Here I must mention the legendary Scythian king too, the giant Magog. I believe, you can hear the syllable mag in his name as well, don't you?

Well, on the basis of all these analyses, I can assure you that the name Victoria is a powerful name.

Word analyses and sound analyses might seem unimportant to some, yet they are of great importance. If you find the same word in different languages, it means that these languages were once united. They were one. Languages, which do not contain such words are younger. Through my analyses, I discovered that Latin is not the oldest language as some linguists claim. It belongs to the younger generation.

***

I was desperate. "I must admit, that I do not understand anything," I moaned.

"I believe you," he smiled. "I myself had difficulties even though my life occupation is languages."

"So, do you think that Isabelle was trying to find out if she was the new European ruler?"

"It's obvious, isn't it?"

"Her name is Isabelle," I said thoughtfully. "Why was she so interested in the name Victoria then?"

"Because her name is Isabelle Victoria!"

"What?"

"Yes, my dear. And there is something else that made her believe she was the One!"

"What?"

"Read!"

***

S: Frankly, I am not so interested in how old a language is as in the reliability of your theories. Can we rely on your studies? Are they really true?

P: It is true that I believe they are true. And I have to add that the name Victoria is not only closely connected to Magdalene, but it carries in itself the reincarnation of the Habsburg and the adequate of Marat as well. A reason more that the name is powerful. It is quite possible that the new ruler will be named Victoria.

***

I whistled excitedly. "Well, I never! Peter is literally telling her she is the chosen one! He's fueling the fire, so to say. Do you think he is doing this intentionally or is this by chance only?"

"God knows," answered Mr. Pearson, pointing with his finger to a sentence on the paper I held in my hands. "Read this."

***

S: How do you explain the name of the place, named Saint Rémy de Provence?

***

I looked at Mr. Pearson for help.

"Rémy is Isabelle's birthplace," he explained.

***

P: Rémy resembles the word Reims, the place where coronations took place. Rémy, Reims, Abraham, all have the same letters.

S: And what does that tell us?

S: Does that mean that is connected, if it is really linked to Abraham, with God?

P: That Rémy, Abraham is connected with God. And Rémy and Reims are, on the basis of letters, in fact, Worms, Kriemhild's Worms and Worms is Jerusalem if you still remember.

S: Is it possible that Mary Magdalene and Jesus lived in Rémy?

P: Of course it is.

S: So the new European ruler might come from Provence, from Rémy?

P: Of course.

***

"So that's what it is all about," I exclaimed. "The reason for Peter's invitation to the Sorbonne are not trinities, are neither Bush, Laden, Blair, the English Queen nor the terrorism, it is the new European ruler! Or in other words, it is Isabelle who wanted to know whether she was the One! Did you know that?"

"Not until Isabelle and Mr. Otrin disappeared and I read the transcript."

After a short pause I said: "Don't you think that the governments would be more than nterested in the idea of the new European ruler? Don't you think they would get scared and try to silence them?"

Mr. Pearson shook his head. "Well, I thought so at first. But on the other hand, it is hard to believe that any government would take the ideas and word analyses seriously enough to act. Yet, you never know."

"There is still a possibility that Isabelle and Peter might have disappeared of their own will, isn't there?"

"I think so."

"But why?"

"Who knows. Maybe they thought Isabelle, as a future ruler, was in danger and they hid. "

"From the government agents?"

"Let's say. Or maybe from the reincarnated Charlotte Corday," he grinned.

He was making fun, but it suddenly came to my mind that he might be even right. Namely, if somebody believes in a new European ruler on the basis of reincarnation, then he most probably believes in the reincarnation of the murderer.

"But they cannot be hiding for the whole of their life," I said. "That would have no sense!"

"They will stay hidden till the time of coronation is ripe," he answered.

"Ripe?" I laughed. "How will they know that the time is ripe? Will she be woken up one morning by an endless crowd of people cheering to her: Isabelle! Our new European Ruler! Our Queen?"

Amusement showed in his eyes. "Who knows?"

After a short pause, he added smilingly: "Another possibility is that they are planning to take the throne by force. Maybe they are already gathering the army!"

Now I had to laugh, too.

"Are you sure that Isabelle's fiancé Maurice really had no idea of Isabelle's dream to be the next ruler? If we understood her questions right," I asked.

He shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know. If he did, he is hiding it damn well."

"If they wanted nothing but confirmation that Isabelle was the next ruler, I wonder why they did not just ask Otrin over the phone, or if that was unacceptable, visit him. Why all this ceremony at the Sorbonne with all those students coming to listen to Peter?"

"Maybe because they were afraid he would not tell them if they asked him directly. Maurice told me that they had to make all the arrangements of his arrival in Paris with his wife, not with him. It was she who always picked up the receiver and when we asked her if we could speak with her husband her answer was that he was busy."

I grinned. "The wives,..."

"No, no, it was not her fault as we later learned. He hated phones, avoided speaking on them if only he could. He kept saying that he believed only in eye to eye conversation."

"Funny man. The more I hear about him the weirder he seems to be."

"You are right. He proved to be a stubborn old man and if Isabelle and Maurice hadn't been so enthusiastic about his language studies, I would not have invited him. Unpredictability of Mr. Otrin must have been the main reason why they had to cover their original intention up. They were probably afraid that even eye to eye they would not get out of him what they wanted. So they lured him to Paris by telling him how honored everybody would be to see and hear him and when he wanted to know who this everybody was, they said the whole world!"

"And it helped? That's strange. As I have heard, he is a highly modest person, not caring for honor and praise at all."

An amused smile spread across Mr. Pearson's face. "Have you ever met a person who would not like to be praised and honored? Believe me, Mr. Otrin is not among them. He'd like people to believe he didn't care, however, you'd have to see his face when you start praising him."

"Ah, yes, I know those kind of people... But I think she did not confide in Maurice. She did not tell him about her dreams to become the European ruler."

Mr. Pearson lifted his eyebrows. "What makes you think so?"

"Well, if she had told him there would have been no need to disappear with Otrin, leaving poor Maurice behind."

Mr. Pearson agreed. "However, "he said, "it doesn't matter what she had told Maurice or not told, from now on there will be no place on the Sorbonne for either of them!"

"So all this crap I was reading has nothing to do with their disappearance," I said disappointedly. "All Jerusalems, trinities and God knows what else! Why, on Earth, did you try to convince me at the beginning that one of the intelligence services kidnapped them?"

"I did not try to convince you! I said it was a possibility and asked you to read the transcription to get your picture of it."

"But now you don't really believe that Otrin's writings about Jerusalems and important political figures made the intelligence services act against him?"

"I've told you. No."

I got up. "I'll have to have one more conversation with Maurice. He did not tell us everything."

He stood up too and we shook hands. "Keep me informed."

"Vice versa," I answered and left.

O, God, how hungry I am, I thought when I was out. I looked at the watch. Of course. It was already time for lunch. I'd spent almost three hours with Mr. Pearson!

12.

After I had left Mr. Pearson, I first intended to call on Maurice but changed my mind at the first pizza restaurant. I was hungry. I ordered a pizza. I tried to put my thoughts in order. After the conversation with the Sorbonne Head, the true reason for Peter's disappearance was even less clear to me than before. What became clear was that not only Peter was crazy, Isabelle was as well. Maybe even crazier than Peter. And I suspected Maurice not to be far from that. I was surrounded by insane people! I had always thought of the intellectuals as being mavericks and high above reality, but it had never entered my mind that they were as crazy as hatters.

How can a sane person come to believe that she is the new European ruler just because of her name? Or that a sacred content changes its place? Or that a place is cursed just because it has a wrong name? Or that somebody is a sort of a copy of somebody else, who lived in the past just because of the name? I would understand if simple, illiterate people fell for this crap but intellectuals? At that moment, I doubted I would ever find out what had happened to Peter. Where he was. I paid the bill and made for my hotel. At the sight of Kate in the lobby, I remembered that Kate was with me. When she saw me, she excitedly came running towards me.

"Tibor," she cried out, "where have you been? I have been looking for you for four hours! I thought something terrible has happened to you!"

There were tears in her eyes, but they did not move me.

"I've been working," I said coldly and added sarcastically: "I'm paid for that, am I not?"

She looked reproachfully at me. "You could have told me where you were going."

"Why should I reveal my plans to you or even justify myself? You are not my wife, for God's sake!"

I hurried into the elevator, wondering why, the hell, I felt so nervous. I flopped onto the bed. God, was I tired. I must have been insane when I agreed to take the case.

I heard knocking on the door but did not answer for I was in no mood for any conversation. It knocked again and Kate entered the room.

I didn't get up.

"What do you want?"

"Why are you sulking?" she asked.

I lost my temper. "Sulking? I'm not sulking! I went to the Head of the Sorbonne, now I am tired and would like to rest! Do I have the right to rest or not?"

"You are not just tired. You are angry. And if you are going to be angry we cannot work together."

"Who says we have to?" I replied caustically and, putting both hands under the back of my head, stubbornly staring at the ceiling, added, "the best thing for you to do is to go home and wait for the news. I'll keep you informed. You see for yourself that here you cannot be of any help at all."

"So you want to get rid of me?"

Without looking at her, I knew she was hurt. I didn't care.

"No. The fact is that I can do the work, which is not going to be finished so soon, without you. You probably have other work to do at home. There is no need to waste your time here."

"My work? Come on, Tibor, you are not worried about my work in the least. You are angry because I did not jump into your bed the minute you wanted me to!"

That made my blood boil! How dared she... Giving her a scornful look, I said as calmly as I managed: "Do you think I care? Not a bit!"

"Exactly, Tibor. You don't care. All you want is another trophy. You didn't get it so everything is wrong now. That's why you are sulking. Your pride is hurt."

"You call an old hag a trophy?"

It took Kate a long time to recover from my remark. I was watching her, enjoying the hurt look in her eyes. Revenge was so sweet.

"You are right," she answered, trying to hide her tears. "To you I would mean but another stupid woman longing to be laid. And you felt obliged to do me a favor. I was aware of that all along. That's why I didn't give in. I knew that after that you would be asking yourself what the hell where you thinking to get involved with me. An old woman, or hag, as you say."

Before I had time to answer, to add another insult, maybe, I suddenly spotted maliciousness sparking in her eyes. "To tell you the truth, Tibor, I don't think you yourself are either young or attractive! You too wouldn't be a trophy to be proud of."

And so we continued for some time. At some point, after we had said to each other quite a lot of ugly things, we burst into laughter.

"We are acting like teenagers, "said Kate, choking with laughter. "I can't believe that suddenly our biggest problem is why I do not want to sleep with you. We are totally out of our minds!"

"Speak for yourself," I corrected her and sat up. My anger subsided. I tried to be rational. "You must be out of your mind to foolishly reject relaxation and fun. It would do us both good. Believe me, it would."

"I can't take sex as a sport or fun!"

"As what then?"

"My perception of sex contains a small flaw, Tibor. I can have sex only with somebody I at least like if not love. And after the intercourse I like or love that person even more. Sex for me is a union, not only of two bodies but of two souls as well. I do not exaggerate if I say that sex for me is a sort of sacred. I always connect it with conceiving. Giving life. I know it is stupid to think of it that way at my age, yet primarily, I think, it was and is meant as giving life and that's why I can't abuse it! I mean, take it just as a sport or fun. You might find me weird, but thinking of sex, I feel a kind of piety. The flaw I mentioned before is, in fact, not in my perception of sex, it is in what I feel after it. And this flaw gets on men's nerves. I just can't pretend that nothing has happened between us. I can't behave as a stranger or just an acquaintance to the man I was so close to. And if this is the man I am not married to, such close relationship brings me nothing but suffering. And I don't want to suffer. Not again. Not at my age."

"We would be in touch," I tried.

"No, we wouldn't. You would return to your wife."

"And you to your husband."

I gave her tit for tat.

"But there would be a difference, Tibor," she said firmly. "I would long for you, you wouldn't for me."

I jumped up. "Goddamn, Kate, why are you women always so sure what men think or feel or will do! Why do you have to make the simplest things so complicated? Sex was given to us, yes for reproduction but also for pleasure! If it was meant only for reproduction, we would mate like animals once a year! However, we were given the strength and wish to do it whenever there is opportunity! We were given it to use it not to suppress it!"

She gazed at me for a few minutes. Then she said: "Tibor, we are not here to have sex, we came to find my husband. I'll not go home and wait for your calls, no, I would be too nervous. We'll continue looking for him together. But if you think you cannot stand my presence any more, I'll find somebody else to help me."

My first thought was to pack my things, go to the airport and fly home. Instead, I said abruptly: "I'll call Maurice to make an appointment with him. "

Maurice didn't answer the phone. I reached for my jacket. "I'm going to his University," I said.

Kate followed me like a shadow. We were walking side by side, speechless and sullen. At least, I was sullen. Kate felt, I suppose, sorrow. That's what I saw on her face. Sorrow for refusing me? Well, whatever she might propose from now on, it was too late, I decided.

Maurice studied at the University Department of Genetics. Actually, he had just graduated and was preparing a doctorate. He was five years older than Isabelle who was the second year student at the University Department of Linguistics.

At the University, we were told that Maurice had not appeared for two days and they did not know where he was. They tried to reach him too but in vain.

"What if he was kidnapped, too?" asked Kate, fear showing on her face.

"It's more likely that he joined them," I answered.

"Joined who?"

"Peter and Isabelle."

She asked incredulously: "Tibor, are you saying that Maurice voluntarily gave himself up to the FBI just to be with Isabelle?"

"No, no. I don't believe any more that FBI had anything to do with Peter's and Isabelle's disappearance. In my opinion, it is more likely that Isabelle, Peter and maybe Maurice are planning to appoint Isabelle as the new European ruler."

She stared at me openmouthed. Then she cried out: "What?"

I told her what I'd learned when I was at the Head of the Sorbonne. She was so shaken that we had to sit down. Although our communication became normal again, I did not comfort her anymore. She'll have to bear the blows, I thought. She herself made the decision to stay with me, which meant she would not be spared the hard blows that probably awaited us.

"What now?" she asked after a while.

"It's time to visit Provence," I answered. "We'll go to Isabelle's birthplace and see if there are any answers."

"But you told me, her family is not at home now. They are on holiday somewhere abroad."

"I'm sure we'll find somebody who knows something."

It was a nice but long way to St. Rémy. It took us the whole day to arrive there. We kept silent most of the time, pretending to admire the beautiful country of Provence. My knowledge of this country was limited to wines. Here were produced the best wines in the world. We stopped here and there for a coffee or snack. Being a driver as well, Kate took the wheel after I had got tired. It was dark when we arrived in Rémy. I pulled up in the parking lot in front of the Hotel Canto Cigalo. It had only two stars but it didn't matter as we intended to stay only one night. What mattered was that it had two one-bed rooms. Later we found out that a small number of stars did not mean bad quality. At least not in this hotel. It was clean, breakfast was rich, personnel kind. The view was gorgeous. Behind the hotel, there were cute gardens. The whole country seemed to me like a paradise. After getting the keys, we immediately went to our rooms. We were too tired to go on research that evening.

Yet, despite the tiredness, I could not sleep. I became restless and finally got up and dressed, deciding to take a short walk through the streets of the city of Nostradamus and Van Gogh. I did not wake up Kate.

When I stepped out the hotel, I suddenly experienced something I wouldn't expect even in my dream! I nearly bumped into J.E.! "What, the hell, are you doing here?" he howled.

"And what, the hell, are you?" I asked in his style.

I expected another shower of angry words but instead he said, after a few moments of silence: "Come with me, I'll show you something."

We went down a long but well-lit street, then turned into a darker one, passed some houses and blocks of flats and stopped in front of a low, old block of flats.

"What's that?" I asked.

He did not answer. He pushed the front door open and a moment later, we were climbing the stairs. We stopped in front of a shabby door on the third floor. J.E. took a key out of his pocket and unlocked it. It was dark inside. We entered the flat and switched on the light. The air was heavy with some kind of rottenness. Later I noticed a big wet stain on the ceiling expanding down the wall. This was probably the cause of the unpleasant smell. The flat was old and so was the furniture. It was faded and scratched.

"This is Isabelle's flat," said J.E., grinning wickedly at the sight of my surprise.

"That can't be! She lives in a luxurious house!"

"Bullshit! She deceived you aa. Well, she certainly did not deceive me, because I have a nose for liars."

He stood in front of me, getting on my nerves with his cocky grin. However, he had just revealed to me an important information, god knows why, but it was hard to believe that he did it because of the goodness of his heart, and as I was expecting more, I had to be patient. "Liars?"

"Believe me, this girl was lying through her teeth. I knew it, I told it, yet people are so blind, so..."

He shifted closer to me, so close that our noses nearly touched. I hate being so close to strangers but didn't give him the satisfaction to move away.

"I don't need to tell you what I have discovered, nevertheless I am going to," he said, emphasizing each word. "After this, I hope you will finally believe I am never mistaken! I have never been; I never will be!" I had it on the tip of my tongue to ask if he was a god, however, I thought better. "After I equip you with all the news, I expect you to stop meddling with the case that isn't your business at all and return to where you came from," he concluded.

He stepped back and I felt a feeling of relief.

"Isabelle has never lived in a luxurious house! She is an illegitimate child, who lived with her mother in this, hired flat. She has no brothers or sisters, her mother died three years ago."

I was really perplexed. "And nobody knew this? Not even Maurice?"

"Ah, Maurice, "he said viciously," he's even a bigger surprise. I discovered the background of his birth and again I was right. He's not pure French at all! I have a nose for such scums as well. His grand-grandmother was a daughter of a Turk who had illegally fled to France, was given a flat and a job of course, thus robbing a decent French who should have got them instead of him! The crossbreeds of his type are extremely dangerous! Nothing is sacred to them, least of all the country that was kind enough, or stupid enough to offer them more hospitality than they deserved." He was getting angrier and angrier. "However, they are never satisfied. No, they want more and more and if they don't get it they start breaking and smashing whatever comes within the reach of their hands. After I find this monkey, I'll have the other two too."

He laughed in my face. "Have you unraveled the secret of the trinities that the Foreigner mentioned in his lectures?"

"No."

"Of course, you haven't. The trinities are the Foreigner, Isabelle and Maurice! Abraham, Lot, Sarah/ Bush, Elisabeth II, Laden/ Jesus, Pilates, Iscariot/. They are all the Foreigner, Isabelle and Maurice!"

"Really?"

I decided not to contradict him. By then I had learnt enough of him to know that nothing I would say would shake his conviction. The best thing to treat such people is to be silent and act your way.

"You bet," he said, marching out of the flat. We returned to our hotel.

"If you'd told me before what you had been planning to do, I could have spared you the long way to here," he sneered at me while we were waiting for the keys of our rooms.

I could not ignore his arrogance any further. I had to return the blow.

"Maurice has disappeared," I said. I saw that the news hit him unprepared. I enjoyed it! Finally, I knew something he didn't.

However, his confusion lasted only a second. He lit a cigarette, to gain some time, with slow and long strokes of his hand extinguished the match and while puffing the smoke out of his mouth, he said in a dull, casual voice: "I know."

I laughed, hoping with all my heart that my laughter sounded mocking.

When I was in my room again I hid behind the curtains and waited. I was right. Ten minutes later J.E. came, almost running out of the hotel, threw his bag into his car and drove away. I knew that now he was after Maurice.

13.

Kate couldn't keep from me that she felt hurt because I went out the previous night on my own. But she said nothing. We checked the information revealed to me by J.E. It was correct. As a child, Isabelle lived in poverty. God knows why she was hiding it. However, she was hiding it well. It seemed that even Maurice knew nothing about her real status or situation. When he had told me that at our first meeting, I believed him. Thinking back now, calling his face into my memory, I was still convinced he did not lie. His face was honest. Nevertheless, everything is possible, isn't it?

"She must have suffered because of her home situation otherwise she wouldn't keep it in such a secret," Kate said.

"Probably."

"I can't really blame her."

"But I do. There are thousands and thousands of people in the world that are poor and illegitimate. I guess it is not easy, nevertheless, to suffer and feel ashamed is too much. It is stupid!"

Kate sighed. "Who knows what she had to go through as a child. It is easier for a child to have both, a mother and a father."

"It depends. It depends on the kind of a father she would have. I have met tens and tens of children whose life was a hell just because of their fathers."

"You are probably right. Unlike many poor children, she managed to go to University. She must have been given a scholarship if her mother was so poor. As a factory worker, she probably didn't earn much."

"I guess so. And she didn't go to any University. She attended the prestigious Sorbonne!"

"No wonder she didn't want anybody to know about her past. About her poverty." Kate's face got lit by faint smile: "Especially if she intended to become a ruler."

"My dear Kate," I said laughingly, "it's obvious you hadn't read your husband's works. If you had, you would know that poverty in that case was her advantage not disadvantage."

"How?"

"Well, it connects her to Joseph the Egyptian whose adequate she is supposed to be. I don't remember the exact words but it goes like this: Joseph the Egyptian, whose adequate is Marat and whose adequate will be the new European ruler, was poor as a child and despised by his brothers. He was even thrown into a well. In the end, he became rich and influential, but before that he had to suffer a lot.

So, Isabelle might believe that having been poor at the beginning of her life, suffering because of that was a guarantee that she would later become influential and rich. Just like Joseph the Egyptian."

"You've become an expert in explaining my husband's work," Kate laughed. "I understand what you have said, but I don't get why to hide poverty if it is, in fact, her blessing?"

"By hiding it she might avoid the 'being thrown into the well' part of Joseph's destiny. Who knows?"

"Maurice is a riddle to me, "said Kate after a while. "He seemed to be so honest. But if he knew about Isabelle's childhood..."

My cell phone rang.

"Listen, Tibor, the police caught that French student, Maurice," said Frank.

"What? "I cried, "caught where?"

"Here in Slovenia. He had broken into Peter and Kate's house."

For quite a time, I was speechless of shock. Then I asked: "But why, Frank?"

"I don't know," he said. "I visited him in jail, however, he wouldn't talk to me. He insists on bringing him to you. He says he'll tell you everything. But Tibor, you know this is against the law. We'll have to hand him over to the French police."

"Frank, don't! Don't do that. If I want to find Kate's husband, I need him."

"For Christ's sake, Tibor..."

"Please, Frank, do me the favor. Make an exception."

"It's not an exception! It's breaking the law!"

"Frank, please..."

"OK. One of my men will accompany him. Where should he bring him?"

"To St. Remy."

"To St. Rémy? What, the hell, are you doing there?"

"Looking for Peter Otrin, what else. Listen, Frank, I met J.E. in St. Rémy. I told him Maurice was missing. I didn't know he was in Slovenia. J.E. immediately ran in search for him. If he finds him before me, Maurice will end in jail as a terrorist. To J.E., everybody in any connection with Otrin is a terrorist and you know what that means nowadays. I'll never have a chance to investigate him."

"OK, you'll have him this evening. But not a word to anybody!"

"Of course! I promise. Thank you, Frank."

I told Kate, who was staring at me scared to death, what Frank had told me. Her eyes widened when I told her that Maurice had broken into their house.

"But why? What was he looking for?"

"I don't know. He'll tell us in the evening."

Maurice looked pale, disheveled, tired.

"I strongly advise you not to try any foolishness or otherwise I will immediately hand you over to J.E.," I warned him after we had entered the room we were going to share. He promised. He was so scared that he didn't even dare to ask what we were doing in St. Rémy. In Isabelle's birthplace.

My first question was what he was doing in Kate and Peter's house.

"I was looking for the code," he said in a tired voice.

"The code! Again the code!" I cried in a fit of temper. "Are you all mad? J.E. is running around the world looking for a code about terrorists, you are looking for... What, the hell, what code are you looking for?"

He closed his eyes. I thought he had fallen asleep, but after a few moments he said almost whisperingly: "Tibor, I lied to you."

"I already know that! What did you lie about?"

"I did not tell the real reason for Professor and Isabelle's kidnapping."

"Of course you didn't, and believe me or not, I know why. You lied because you didn't want me to know that the reason for their disappearance was Isabelle being the new European ruler."

He looked at me surprised: "How did you find out?"

"I have my sources!" He did not deserve the truth.

"I didn't have the slightest idea she would go so far," he stammered.

"So far? What do you mean?"

"It never came to my mind that she would kidnap Professor by herself."

"Kidnap?" That was beyond my expectation. "Are you saying that Isabelle kidnapped Peter Otrin? She, him?"

He nodded. "I don't know how she succeeded in doing it all by herself. Without any help."

"Without any help? Who else could have helped her? You?"

Again, he nodded. "We agreed to take him to a place where nobody would find him. We intended to keep him in isolation until he told us the code for 12 – helix DNA."

"A code for 12 – helix DNA? What the hell is that again?"

"Well, it is something, which would help Isabelle to rule better. It..."

"Maurice, I sincerely hope you do not believe all this crap about the new European ruler! Least of all that it is going to be Isabelle."

He hesitatingly shrugged his shoulders. "To tell you the truth I believe that everything is possible. Isabelle studied Professor's theories to the last detail. I didn't. I am not good in languages, words, sounds. However, she says she found a strong proof that the fate chose her to be the ruler. It is not fictitious evidence! It is a scientific one. It lies in her names Isabelle-Victoria and in the names of the country and town where she was born. I cannot contradict that. If she has proofs, then there must be some truth in it. I just wanted to help her. Ruling over such a big region without any experience would be extraordinarily difficult. So, if she was clairvoyant, well, if Professor knows the word with which we could unlock the part of our DNA in which our supernatural abilities are hidden."

I closed my eyes, grabbed my head with both hands and only after taking a deep breath, answered: "For God's sake, Maurice, have you all gone mad or what? You yourself told me when we met that you stopped being interested in Otrin's lectures after you had found out they had nothing to do with science!"

"It is different with Isabelle's name," he said meekly. "This explanation is scientific. And regarding DNA, well, he tells things that shouldn't be neglected. They might not be quite scientific, but science could use them. Tibor, I know, I am well aware that all this sounds crazy, yet believe me, in the part of the DNA, which is now believed to be inactive, is hidden much more than you can imagine!

The Professor discovered a great secret with the help of words, with the help of etymology; I am nearing it through genetics. If we combine the two, we can in our DNA awake abilities like telepathy, clairvoyance, the ability of teleportation and even immortality that had fallen asleep long long ago. Just imagine a ruler with all these capabilities! He or she would be invincible! That's why we needed the Professor."

He is mad, I heard a voice shouting in my head. Totally, completely mad! But I had neither time nor right to fight his stupid ideas.

"OK, let's forget the supernatural for a while. I'd like you to tell me something else. How is it possible that Isabelle alone kidnapped Otrin if you agreed to do it together? Where were you at that time?"

"I was on a seminar on genetics in Toulouse. Before I went, she said we would do it together. She would wait. Why she didn't isn't clear to me either. I tried to reach her on her cell phone, but I couldn't."

He looked at me helplessly: "I can't answer that question."

"I can't imagine, how a thin, small girl was able to kidnap a man. It's true that he is not heavy, all bones and skin, nevertheless, there is no way she would manage to tie him, lift him and throw him into a car or carry him into a flat."

"She did not tie or carry him," answered Maurice, "she probably intimidated him with a razor."

"With a razor?"

"We decided to threaten him with a razor if he caused trouble. Of course, we did not intend to hurt him. Just to frighten," he explained.

"Of course!" I said sarcastically. The idea couldn't be more innocent.

I looked at Kate. She did not understand my conversation with Maurice, so I translated it. All except the part with the razor. I did not want to frighten her. When I told her that Maurice helped Isabelle to plan the kidnapping of Peter, she suddenly jumped into Maurice and started to beat him with her fists. I quickly shoved her away.

"Are you crazy?" I cried.

"Crazy?" she screamed. "I am crazy? That beast set a trap to my husband! Who knows what that mad girl is going to do to him!"

She burst into tears. Suddenly she became old. Old and desperate. A wave of pity swept over me. Thank God I kept the information of the razor to myself.

"Calm down, Kate," I said soothingly, "she won't hurt him. Now that we know who has him, we'll find him soon."

I turned back to Maurice. "Do you know of any place, hotel maybe, in Paris or in the nearby surrounding where Isabelle might have taken Otrin?"

"No, I don't," he answered. "After her disappearance, I visited all her co-workers, and they couldn't help me either."

"Do you believe they were telling the truth?"

He said he was sure they were.

"Isabelle had no friends," he continued. "As far as I know there wasn't a person she was close to. Close enough to confide in them."

"Maurice, try to remember all the places Isabelle has ever been to or has mentioned. Is there an abandoned house? A flat?"

He vigorously shook his head. "No, I know of no such place."

A place hidden to the eyes, a place where Isabelle would feel safe and sure that nobody was going to bother her, a place... Suddenly it dawned on me that the most probable place would be her flat in St. Rémy. Of course! That's why J.E. came to St. Rémy. He expected to find Peter and Isabelle here. He obviously didn't, but that didn't mean they hadn't been in St. Rémy. J.E. undoubtedly examined the flat thoroughly. If he had found any traces, he didn't tell me. Understandable. I wouldn't either.

"I think Isabelle brought Peter here, to St. Rémy," I said. Maurice's jaw dropped. "To St. Rémy? Here?"

I nodded. "St. Rémy is Isabelle's birthplace. A place far from Paris. A place where nobody knows her anymore. J.E. told me she seldom returned and never for more than two days. And nobody ever saw her. This place meant an ideal hiding place."

Without waiting for Maurice to answer or without bothering to tell Kate what Maurice and I had been talking about, I called my friend in Slovenia.

"Frank, that student girl brought Otrin to St. Rémy. I am sure of that. Do you have any idea how to find out if anybody saw them on the highway? The way from Paris to St. Rémy is long, they had to stop a few times."

Frank was silent for a few moments. Then his harsh voice said: "I'll see what I can do. But it will not be easy because the case is in the hands of the French police."

"I know Frank."

"Well, "he sighed," I'll let you know if and when I get the information."

I turned back to Maurice. "Why did Isabelle lie about her parents and sister? Why did she say that the parents were wealthy lawyers and her sister a director of a well-known museum?"

Maurice's face became red with anger. "She didn't lie! This is all true!"

"O no, Maurice, it isn't," I said, feeling no pity for him. I never pity those who let themselves be fooled by others. I told him that Isabelle didn't have a sister, didn't have a father, and she was not wealthy. She was terribly poor. He was shocked and at first did not want to believe me. His reaction confirmed that he really had no idea who Isabelle really was or where she and Peter were. Nevertheless, I went on torturing him.

"Isabelle is your fiancée, isn't she?"

"I have already told you!"

"Answer my question!"

"Yes, she is."

"Do you love her?"

"That's none of your business!"

"Answer!"

He nodded.

"Does she love you?"

"For God's sake what do these questions have to do with her disappearance?"

His face became crimson.

"Maybe nothing but they certainly tell you a lot about her love to you," I said insolently. "What kind of love is it if you do not tell the person with whom you plan to spend the rest of your life, who you really are? Or if you run away with another man?"

"She did not escape with the Professor, she kidnapped him!"

"Believe it if you want," I said, "but don't forget that she's been lying to you about almost everything. Have you never, in all four years that you spent together, wished to meet her parents and sister?"

"Of course I have. But whenever we had some free time and that was not often, we are both very busy at the University, her parents were away. They traveled a lot and her sister was constantly on a business trip. And St. Rémy is not so near."

"Maurice, have you never suspected she was telling lies?"

"No, never." He buried his face in his hands. I waited. After a moment of silence, he said: "When Isabelle disappeared my first thought was that the Professor kidnapped her."

"He her? Why?"

"For money, I guess."

"Money? What do you mean by that?"

"Well, if it is true that Isabelle is to be the next European ruler, if he has proofs then somebody might be willing to pay ransom for her release."

"Who, for example?"

"I don't know. Somebody. People. Governments..."

Oh my God, I thought, almighty God!

Aloud I asked: "Did you expect to find Isabelle in Otrin's house? Is that why you broke into it?" He nodded. "Yes. Knowing that he does not know Paris or France or other countries well enough to find a good hiding place, for he had never before been abroad, the only logical place was his home."

"Do I get you right? You believed that Otrin made Isabelle go with him by threatening her with... with whatever! After they had passed all the checkpoints without arousing the slightest suspicion, they boarded the plane and flew off?"

"I know it was stupid to think so," he answered crestfallen. "But I was so worried and confused... I was just not able to think clearly."

"Okay, okay. Tell me, what was the first thought that entered your mind when you didn't find them in the Slovenian flat?"

"I began to suspect."

"Suspect what?"

"That the Professor did not kidnap her... that they double-crossed me."

"Both of them?"

"Both of them," he answered bitterly. "Suddenly it became clear to me that they had made the plan to run away after I'd told them I would attend the seminar. They decided to find the code by themselves. I guess Isabelle won him over by promising him an attractive post after she became the ruler."

"What attractive post? To be her lover?"

"Maurice's dark eyes became darker with anger. "Of course not! As an advisor."

"And after she had won him over with her promise, she started to show him her true colors with the razor?"

"Yes."

"What are the possibilities that she'll use it?"

"It is possible but unlikely."

"Why?"

"Because she desperately needs him. Without him, she'll never reach her goal. On the other side... If he doesn't obey her she might lose her temper. Her wish to follow the steps she thinks her fate prepared for her is so strong... Well, I really don't know."

"There's something else I want to know. Why did you break into Mr. Otrin's room?"

Maurice frowned. "I told you! I thought I'd find Isabelle."

"I don't mean his flat in Slovenia, I mean your breaking into his Parisian hotel room the third day after his arrival. I know it was you!"

"No, I wasn't!"

"Yes, you were!"

"How can you be so sure?" He gritted his teeth in anger.

To tell the truth, I wasn't till I learned that he had broken into Otrin's flat in Slovenia. At that moment, it dawned on me that criminals act according to a pattern. If Maurice had the guts to go to Slovenia, to a foreign country, he had never been to before, just to break into a flat, risking to be seen by people who would find him suspicious, risking to be caught, then he must have done a similar act before. Yes, I was sure!

"I just am," I answered. "And there is no need to lie to me!"

He gave in. "Yes, I did," he confessed finally. "Isabelle was convinced that Professor was hiding the code in his room. At that time, she was still planning that she and I were to get it from the Professor. She did not exclude me yet. Well, she was sure that in his room there had to be a file, a piece of paper, a notebook, something containing the code. I went to look for it. Luckily, the balcony door was open. But to my horror Professor came back earlier as I expected and I had to run."

"Leaving the room in a total mess," I finished. "I was wondering what a burglar does not clean the place after himself, thus removing all evidence. I suspected an amateur."

"I know. But there was no time."

"Besides," I added mockingly, "you must have probably already figured out by then how inefficient the French Police, led by J.E. was and so you needn't worry."

Then I added seriously: "You didn't find the code, I guess."

"No, I didn't." His face lit up when he continued: "But I found the proof of the existence of the twelve helix DNA!"

"You must be kidding!"

"Here, see for yourself."

"Not another lecture," I grimaced, seeing a piece of paper in his hand. Nevertheless, I took it and read.

***

Waking the twelve helix DNA would mean return to the heaven. One of the possibilities to do that is the alphabet, atbash, in fact. It consists in substituting aleph (the first letter) for tav (the last), beth (the second) for shin (one before last), and so on, reversing the alphabet. For example:

abcdefghijklmnopqrstuvwxyz are changed into: zyxwvutsrqponmlkjihgfedcba

a = z; b = y; etc.

If you throw the word lama into this system you get out mala, according to the Slovenian alphabet which is a little bit different from the English. The Slovenian alphabet is: a, b, c, č, d, e f, g , h, I, j, k, l, m, n, o, , r, s, š, t, u , v, z, ž. The middle consonants of both words lama and mala are l = m, or m = l. I am a hundred per cent sure that the words containing ml or lm hide the ticket to the door of heaven.

Another possibility to get to the door of heaven is by angeology. This is the sequence of letters klmn. It's known that a word with these letters is present in each Holy book. Yet nobody has found it till today. Or, if he has, he is keeping the secret to himself because he was ordered to do so.

Here are some words, which might open the door of heaven:

kelimat, salomon, klemen, lama, lemur, mel, mleko (milk). All we should do is pronounce the words, one by one in different ways, meaning with different vibrations. When we came across the correct vibration of the right word, the door would be open. Which means the twelve helix DNA would be stimulated to activity.

***

"What does that mean?" I asked, aware of the stupid gaze I directed at Maurice.

"You've read it," answered Maurice impatiently. "The Professor is looking for a way to awake the sleeping part of our DNA."

"Oh, I see. The one containing supernatural abilities."

"Exactly!"

I started to feel the exhaustion of the last few days descend on me. "You know it doesn't exist!"

I know it does!" he answered stubbornly. "All we have to do is to bring it to life again! The first population on our planet Earth was in possession of the supernatural powers!"

"If they were at that time, they would be now as well! We would all be supernatural!"

"No, because the gene or genes were locked by the Annunaki!"

"And who, the hell, are now Annunaki?"

As soon as I uttered the question, I felt I did not want any explanation! My head was full of Trinities, Jerusalems, European rulers, Annunaki! I could take no more!

I'm going home, I decided and started for the door.

Kate, who did not understand a word of what we were talking about, cried out: "Tibor, where are you going?"

"Home!" I said, grabbing the doorknob. I had never before given up, no matter how difficult the case was, but what I was doing in Paris was not solving a case, it was drowning in some stupid, mad texts, which I could not make heads and tails of!

Kate's eyes filled with tears. "For God's sake Tibor, don't leave me now! What did Maurice tell you?"

Although I felt sorry for her, I remained uncompromising.

"Kate, I can't deal with this anymore. I just can't. Somebody is making a fool of all of us, somebody who is smarter than we are. Kate I'm going to hand Maurice over to the French police. To J.E. and then return back home. You should go with me. It's over for us."

But she went on begging and in the end I yielded. Again! And don't ask me, how angry I was with myself for being so stupid. Did I not only the previous night decide to ignore women from now on, to not care what they wish, think, feel? Especially Kate? What's the matter with me?

"Okay," I sighed, "but don't expect too much."

"Just don't leave me," she pleaded.

I furiously turned back to Maurice. "If I am right Isabelle and Otrin are studying words and letters in a hidden place, looking for a code?"

"Something like that, yes."

"Do you believe, do you really believe that funny theories of an old, confused professor of linguistics could make the greatest discovery of the world? Just like that? Scientists, great scientists need decades and complicated equipment of high technology to invent or discover something. Don't be silly, Maurice, murmuring some words will open nothing!"

A faint smile crossed his face. "Do you know how the gene was invented?"

"No, and I don't care!" He told me anyway.

"By chance. And on peas! Moreover, it wasn't even invented by a scientist, it was invented by a failed student who studied science at university and gave up. He did not have any high technological equipment; he did what farmers all over the world do: crossed different sorts of peas and then studied the offspring. Some resembled one sort, the others the other sort. He asked himself why and started to research. So he discovered that there must be a particle hidden in each pea, which gives instruction for the shape of the pea in their offspring. Later this particle was named gene. You see, a simple man using a simple method made the greatest discovery in the world of all times! Besides, he is not the only example of great discoveries having been made by chance and/or in a simple way.

Many were made when people did not bother to make them. When they were taking a walk, for example, or sleeping."

"You'll not convince me," I said. "No word or letter contains such power to awake... whatever!"

"You will agree that words have the power to reveal the past. Whatever existed in the past had a name? A word. Even the Bible says that "In the beginning was the Word", and something like "the Word will become the flesh of the God". Well, I did not go into it, all I know is that words have undergone changes through centuries, yet they did not disappear like many objects, which they named.

Many natural and other catastrophes killed the whole civilizations, destroyed their inventions, achievements, however, the words that describe them, tell us about them, were not destroyed. Many of them denote now different objects from those for which they were invented, but etymological research can bring us centuries and centuries back where they reveal their original meaning. And the original meaning of those words gives us insight into the life of the civilization dead long ago. That is the power of words!"

Due to the fact that I understood almost nothing of what he was telling me, I kept silent, letting him to resume his explanation:

"Look at the genetics! Look at the DNA! Which are its basic ingredients? Amino acids! And how do we name them? With letters! No geneticist can avoid the four letters: A, T, C and G! Let me explain them: A stands for Adenine, T for Thymine, C for Cytosine, G for Guanine. These letters and their sequence determine a substance. For example, ACT, or CCT, or CCG etc. Three letters together, always exactly three letters, make a word. I have to tell you that the whole genetics is based on words. In the alphabet of DNA all words are of the same length, all are made of three letters and a sequence of three DNA bases, called codons. By the way, a codon is instruction, which amino acid should be used for making a new protein. A group of such words or trio of bases composes a sentence or a gene, containing the complete message how to create a life. So to say, not only letters and words carry messages but sentences as well!

What I find most interesting and important is the similarity between the DNA structure and Professor's theories. Number three! Three letters, three bases, three people or places - trinities. The trinities or trios in genes or Professor's theories discover origins of life or/and create it. They are creators of the social, economic and political life of a period. The trinities, made of people, create, direct and influence activities of their time. After a trinity has finished its work, or after it dies, a new period begins. A period, containing a new trinity. We must be aware of something else. Trinities or trios are not immune against faults, mistakes. Either they can be infiltrated into the trinity of people or places or into the genetic trio and the result are deviations and mutations. Because of them, many trinities look different from their pre-trinities..."

"Well, well," I laughed, "all of a sudden you are charged with knowledge of which you had no idea the last time I visited you! When I asked you to tell me what Otrin was lecturing, you knew nothing. Did you suddenly experience illumination?"

He smiled in embarrassment and continued: "Things discovered by scientists are not new. What I want to say is, scientists never create anything, they just find things that have already existed. And they progress slowly. Despite modern laboratories, improved technical and technological devices their progress is very slow. Slower than discoveries made by the Professor. What he does is simply following a word to its origin. The original word usually shows him the plan how to reconstruct whatever he was following. Whatever he was looking for. You all underestimate him and laugh at him, but if the world was smarter and listened to him, it would spare millions and millions of dollars or Euros for expensive studies... hmm... hmm.... Can I have a glass of water?"

His voice was coarse, his face shrunken, tired.

"Only if you stop talking. I don't want to hear any more. Not this evening. I've had enough!"

He agreed and when I ordered him to go to bed, he gave me a grateful look.

He fell asleep as soon he lay down.

"I'm going to bed too," said Kate, starting for the door. Before she opened it, she said: "Thank you, Tibor, I'll never forget that you stayed."

After she left, I took my notebook and jotted down these questions:

1. Why did Otrin disappear: because of a holy town, because of a trinity, because of the European ruler, because of the DNA?

2. Did he disappear of his own will or did somebody force him into it?

3. If he disappeared voluntarily, is he hiding somewhere together with Isabelle? Where?

4. If he was forced, there are two possibilities. Either Isabelle or a scientific institution forced him.

5. If Isabelle kidnapped him, where did she take him?

6. If a scientific institution kidnapped him, which? (Get a list of scientific institutes in France)

7. If he was kidnapped by an intelligence service, which?

8. Would it be smart to issue the disappearance of the two in media? Send pictures of them to newspapers? (Answer: J. E. will not allow this. You must not inform the terrorists that you are hot on their heels)

So many questions and almost no answers. Yawning, I put the notebook into the drawer, turned off the light and closed my eyes.

14.

Despite tiredness, I couldn't sleep. My thoughts were like a swarm of bees, humming, jostling, and hurrying from one object to another. The whole night I kept getting up, lying down, getting up. In the morning when I was so tired that I was finally about to fall asleep, the ringing of the cell phone threw me up again. It was Frank.

"You were right," he said, "your couple really traveled to St. Rémy. They were seen on three resting places. And do you know what? Somebody else wanted the same information as you! You don't have to guess a lot to find out who he was, do you?"

"Of course not," I laughed.

After finishing our conversation, I took the list of questions I had written the night before, to cross out the possibility that Otrin was in the hands of a scientific institution. Now it was clear, that he was with Isabelle. Whether voluntarily or not that was the thing I had to investigate.

Maurice was still asleep when I left him. Even if he woke up while I was away, I knew he was too afraid of J.E. to escape. I was thinking about Maurice a lot. He was not a bad person, yet he had made some stupid mistakes for which he will have to answer. One of them was breaking into Otrin's house. The other was breaking into the hotel room. However, I decided to keep this offence to myself. I decided not to tell anybody. I wanted to spare him punishment for that crime. The next thing we all had to fear was the accusation of being terrorists or at least have terrorist intentions. I was more than convinced that J.E. was leading his investigation in that direction. He wanted to prove that Otrin was a terrorist; everybody connected with him was his collaborator. Including me. I was well aware that no trial led by J.E. would be fair. We would be condemned before we were tried. So, it was suddenly of my interest too to find Otrin as soon as possible, to find him before J.E. and take him home as secretly and as fast as possible.

But the truth was that J.E. was at least one step ahead of me. He found out the truth about Isabelle before me. And before me he knew that Otrin and Isabelle had come to St. Rémy. He had already searched Isabelle's flat and I didn't have the slightest idea what he had found there. I only hoped that something, something small and tiny had escaped his eyes and I would be lucky enough to find it. For I intended to search the flat by myself as well. The only thing he didn't know was that Maurice was with me. Nevertheless, it was only a question of time until he found out, so I really had to hurry. I knocked on Kate's door. I did not expect to find her all dressed up, so a cry of surprise escaped my mouth when she opened the door: "Oh, Kate, what does that mean?"

"I'm leaving," she said. "Come in."

"Leaving? But why?"

"You were right," she said with a faint, bitter smile on her lips, "I really do have a lot of work to do at home."

"You know I did not really mean it," I said, slightly embarrassed. "Stay here and wait for your husband. I'm sure it'll do him good to see you."

"Oh, come on, Tibor, "he sighed, "he won't miss me at all. Just bring him home."

"But, but..."

She took my hand. She had a deep, sad look in her black eyes. I felt an emotion moving in me again, but I managed to hold myself back." Don't try, Tibor, I won't change my mind," she said firmly, letting my hand go, stepping back. "I know I cannot be useful here at all. I don't understand the language, you have enough to do without having to translate to me each word somebody utters."

"I really don't find it difficult..."

"I know, Tibor. The other reason is that I am too old to keep running all over France. I'm getting on in years, you know. Well, my taxi will be here in a minute to take me to the airport so I'm going to say good-bye right here. "She grabbed my hand again and squeezed it tightly. "Please, find him, "she repeated, tears in her eyes. "I wish you good luck. And take care of yourself."

I pulled her to my chest and she didn't resist. For a few moments we stood motionless, tightly embraced.

"We could have a wonderful time," I whispered into her ear.

"I know," she answered, "that's why I am leaving. Because I am afraid of myself. Not of you, Tibor, of myself. Later I would regret it."

She freed herself from my grip, picked up her suitcase and left the room without giving me another look.

I did not follow her. After a while, I returned to my room and woke Maurice.

"Get up, boy," I said, "we have work to do."

15.

I, of course, did not have the key to Isabelle's flat, but many years of work with the criminals taught me things as well. Maurice was watching me with amusement when I was trying to open the door with a piece of wire. It was a piece of cake, especially as the lock was simple, old, an ancient one, so to say, with no special protection. I could read Maurice's thoughts. Something like that: so there you are, a burglar, with your mouth full of praise for yourself, how honest you are, a saint, that's why you have the right to condemn criminals. Yet, you are no better than the rest of us. I didn't care. I had no time for argument.

It took me only a few seconds and the door was wide open.

Though having searched the flat thoroughly, we found nothing. But I just couldn't leave the place. Something was tying me to it. A subconscious knowledge, my always unmistakable sixth sense. Look again, was it whispering at the back of my head. Look again. It's here.

Maurice, standing at the door, his hand on the door handle, was waiting.

With my back bent low, my eyes glued to the floor, I resumed searching. Inch by inch.

"I don't think you'll find..."

At that moment, I noticed something white peeking from under one of the table legs.

"Lift up this corner of the table," I ordered Maurice.

When he did, I pulled a folded piece of paper out, struggled to my feet, silently cursing my belly that without my permission grew big and heavy, and unfolded it. It was all written over in Otrin's handwriting. I recognized it although it was somewhat different from his handwriting in lectures. It was strange, probably written in a hurry.

"Look at this handwriting," I said to Maurice. "What do you think?"

Maurice stared at the writing for some time, and then he said: "His hand was trembling."

"Exactly. Otrin was scared to death when he was writing this!"

Otrin's lectures were written in nice handwriting, showing self-confidence. Letters were equal, nicely formed, standing upright like the soldiers in a row. I remember admiring his handwriting. On thispiece of paper, the letters were bending, falling. Some were big, others small, difficult to read.

Maurice started to read aloud:

***

1. In the word Victoria, a lot of traps are hidden. According to the fact that Victoria is also a statue above the Brandenburg Gate, which had been stolen by the French two hundred years ago as their war booty and has been returned to Germany only recently it might happen that Victoria, the new European ruler will be kidnapped.

2. Queen Victoria lost her husband at the age of 42. From then on, she wore only black and was constantly sad, for she had loved her husband very much. The new ruler Victoria is threatened to become unhappy in her middle age and remain unhappy till the end of her life.

3. The new ruler named Victoria can become a victim of a deadly disease, leukemia, which ne of the queens of the British throne inherited in the past and can burst out in any of the female relatives. The name Victoria will give her the privilege to become a relative of the throne, and thus exposed to the deadly illness.

4. The name Isabelle, at first sight, resembles the name Jesus with the promise of bringing supernatural power to its owner, but unluckily Jesus died on the cross. The same fate may befall the person named Isabelle.

5. Sorry to say, but the beginning of the name Isabelle brings no good prospects. The first syllable suggests that the person named Isabelle might be liable to a tragic fate similar to the fate of Isis, Isolde, Isaac, Isaiah. Her own son Horus beheaded Isis. Isolde was prevented from becoming a queen. Isaac went blind; Isaiah was running naked around and around Jerusalem for no less than three years, as a sign of a protest against the occupation of Jerusalem. Isabelle should beware those fates.

6. There is another danger in the name Isabelle. It can be divided into two parts; is like iron and abel. Biblical Abel was killed by his brother Cain. Isabelle is thus threatened by a too early death.

7. The names Isabelle and Victoria are far from being a good combination. Yet indirectly the person with those names can still rule Europe. Through her daughter who must be given only one name. And that name must be Victoria. No Isabelle or anything else. Just Victoria. Through her, she can fulfill her mission.

***

We exchanged glances. "I don't understand," said Maurice, drawing his eyebrows together in a frown. "It seems as if he tried to scare her, to dissuade her from her intention to become the new ruler."

"What a change," I said, remembering the conversation between Isabelle and Otrin that I had read when visiting the Head of the Sorbonne. "First he makes every effort to prove to her that she is the one who is chosen to be the ruler, and then this! Why, Maurice? Because he finally sees that she is expecting the impossible?"

"She's not expecting the impossible and the Professor knows it. I don't know why he tries to dissuade her from the throne, but I know he won't succeed. Isabelle firmly believes in her future role as the European ruler and will do anything to make him help her."

"Everything means threatening him with the razor?"

"If it is necessary."

When turning the Otrin's piece of paper in my hands, I suddenly noticed some letters at the edge of the paper, written nearly invisibly.

I neared it to my eyes. The letters were SPL! SPL! SPL!

"What, the hell, is that?"

Maurice bent over my shoulder.

"The code," he cried out excitedly. "The code!"

"What code?"

"The one which will awake our DNA! We have to vibrate the sounds of the letters!"

I turned around and my look stopped him. After a while, a thought came to my mind. It was not a code for DNA, of that I was sure, but it still might be a code, a message written in...

I turned to Maurice who sullenly stared out the window.

"Maurice, how does it go, you know, Otrin mentioned it here... wait, wait, I'll find it, it's also written in Da Vinci's Code... well...the thing with letters... Something like replacing letters."

He slowly turned to me. "Atbash? Is that what you have in mind?" There were still traces of sullenness in his voice.

"Yes, exactly! I want you to decipher these letters using Da Vince's Code."

"Da Vince's code is a piracy. That's what Professor says," he exclaimed. "It should be called the Merovingian Code, not Da Vince's. Besides, it's not complete. In addition, it's a forgery of an old Egyptian Code AS-AR (meaning OZIRIS)–NEFER-MARNAS. Da Vince's Code is based on the presumption that John is Mary Magdalene. However, it does not take into account Rudolf Steiner's discovery, which proves that John is, in fact, Lazar. LAZAR- MAGDALENE-JOHN. Do you see what we get by taking into account Steiner? A trinity! A three layered person, if you want! One person composed of three..."

Now that was one drop too many!

"Damn, Maurice, if you do not stop talking about trinities and other stuff, I'll throw you out the window! Decipher these three letters! That's all I want!"

Even though offended, he took a pencil and started to scribble down the letters of the alphabet. He crossed out the vowels and put numbers above the consonants. "Let's see," he said. "The first letter S has number fifteen. Fifteen from the back is letter H. The second letter P has number twelve. Twelve from the back is letter L. The third letter L has number nine. The ninth letter from the back is P. The word he wrote is HLP."

"HLP," I said. "Does it remind you of anything?"

He shrugged.

"Hlp, hlp, hlp, hlp.... Help!" he cried out. "It means help!"

"Of course! Help. He's asking for help!"

"That confirms my theory about the razor," I said.

Maurice looked at me in admiration. "How did you know we must use atbash?"

"God's inspiration! Awakened DNA! Everybody around me seems to have it, why not me?"

I took my notebook out of my pocket and crossed out the possibility that Otrin voluntarily escaped with Isabelle.

"There is still a chance that the three letters are the code," insisted Maurice. "The one stimulating the twelve helix DNA to action..."

"Maurice, I'm not interested in that anymore. Without any doubt, Isabelle had forced Otrin to go with her. It doesn't matter why, yet according to his cry for help he is in danger and I have to find him as soon as possible. How big is the chance of her cutting his throat with the razor?"

"Big," he finally admitted. "If he does not help her get supernatural abilities."

"But if she kills him, he'll never be able to help her, "I said feverishly as if Maurice was Isabelle and I was trying to talk sense into her." Dead he will be of no use! You yourself told that."

"Don't be so sure, "he answered." He might be more useful dead than alive."

"I have no time for jokes, Maurice!"

"This is not a joke. The Professor told Isabelle that after his death his skull was to be prophetic."

I couldn't believe my ears! Speechless I gazed at him.

"I was there when they were discussing the talking skulls," he continued. "I remember him mentioning Adam's skull and Mozart's. He was especially enthusiastic about Mozart's skull. Isabelle asked him if he possessed it because he knows so much about it and he answered that he did. He had it beside his bed!"

"Rubbish," I said.

"It's not a complete rubbish, Tibor. Talking skulls are mentioned by quite a few writers and the Bible too, so there must be some truth in that. I don't believe that talking skulls really exist and rest on people's night tables, but I do believe that by talking skulls are meant a sort of computers. Nevertheless," he laughed, "I'd be happy to have a prophetic skull now. It would help me find Isabelle and show me how to escape you."

"Well, my dear Maurice, if you had used your own, you wouldn't be in all this shit now."

"There you are right."

We sat in silence for a while. It was Maurice who broke it.

"The Professor must tell Isabelle the word that would take her to the throne or find a descendant of the Annunaki."

I jumped up.

"Spare me with that, Maurce! Spare me!"

"As you wish," he said wearily, "but it's an important part of the whole plan and you might get a hint how to go on with the investigation."

"I know how! I don't need any of your hocus-pocus!"

"Have you asked yourself, why Isabelle and Professor are not in St. Rémy anymore?"

"Of course I have!"

"Well, one of the possibilities is that they were kidnapped by the Annunaki."

I pointed my shaking finger at Maurice. "I warned you, Maurice! Get up and get dressed! We are going out! Now!"

"To find information about Anunaki?"

"Dammit, Maurice, shut your mouth!"

16.

We returned to Isabelle's neighborhood. Not to resume searching her flat, there was nothing left, but to interrogate her neighbors. So we learned that Isabelle's mother had died of cancer three years ago. Some remembered Isabelle as a little girl, but after she had moved to Paris to study, they did not see her anymore. With contempt in their voices, they were telling that she did not even come to visit her mother after she had been taken ill. In addition, she didn't even attend the funeral!

Her mother always defended Isabelle, they were saying. Whenever they asked her why her daughter never came, she hurried to explain how busy she was with her studies. She was very proud of her.

At the end of her life she suffered terribly. They helped her as much as they could. Brought her some food. Tidied the flat. However, they could not take away her pain. She died in hospital.

Kate should have heard this, I thought to myself. She felt sorry for Isabelle because of her poverty.

However, we did not get the information we wanted. Nobody had seen Isabelle lately. Nobody had heard or noticed anything strange regarding her flat.

"How is it possible that two people come into a flat and stay there for a few days without being noticed by at least one neighbor? One person?" wondered Maurice.

"Oh, it is possible, believe me," I answered. "I used to live in a block of flats and I can tell you I would not be able to tell for most of the people when they were at home or away, who they were and what they were doing. To think of it, I can only say that if I, who by profession should have known all the people, didn't, then the others know even less. That's why it comes to tragic deaths in the flats, when the corpses themselves attract the neighbor's attention with their nauseating smell."

After a short pause I said: "I guess they went back to Paris."

Maurice didn't comment it.

We had already lost all the hope when finally, a man told us that he had seen something. He saw a red car with the Parish license plate drive into the third garage, which for years had not been used by anyone. That was why it drew his attention. However, he did not know whether the car drove away or was it still there.

We hurried to the town hall, looked for the office where they keep records of their citizens and their property and asked who the owner of the garage (we told the street and the number) was. After the clerk had studied my badge carefully, she told me, it was Isabelle's. We went back to unlock the garage. Of course, again in my special, illegal way. There was Isabelle's car in it. The one that was seen in many places on the motorway between Paris and St. Rémy. We searched it thoroughly, yet didn't find anything that could help us with the investigation.

A dozen questions were roaming my head. What does that mean? Were they still in St. Rémy? Where? Near? Leaving the car in the garage they must have gone somewhere on foot. However, on foot they were not able to go far. Especially if they wanted, if Isabelle wanted, to stay unnoticed. With the razor on Otrin's neck, they couldn't have gone a long distance without being noticed and stopped.

We searched the attic of the block of flats, we searched the cellars. Nothing! Not a small, tiny trace.

"I tell you, the Annunaki kidnapped them!"

I suppressed my anger. I was desperate. Didn't know what my next step should be. Therefore, I told myself that while waiting for something to turn up, I just might listen to the most stupid possibility in the world.

"Okay, tell me about your Annunki!"

"They are not mine. However, they were the first inhabitants of Karsag, of the first Jerusalem. Have you heard of Jetties?"

"Of course I haven't!"

"They were giants and it has been reported that they have been seen near Himalayas and in the USA as well."

"When?"

"Lately. Here and there."

"Didn't these old people all die out?"

He was shocked at my remark. "God's sons don't die out!"

"They were God's sons?"

"Yes! They came to the Earth for different reasons and they left it when it wasn't interesting for them anymore. However, before they left they did everything to prevent Earth from being dangerous to them."

"Dangerous? How could the Earth possibly be dangerous to God's sons?"

"Oh, it could! The Earthlings had all the possibilities to outdo them and consequently to subordinate them to themselves. The God's sons had to prevent this. First, they destroyed the second Moon that belonged to the Earth. By doing that, they gained more power over us, people. Destruction of the second Moon threw the Earth out of the galactic time and because of that, we were moved away from our real, original nature. Thus, we became an easier prey. Radiation was another weapon against us. In the beginning, the amount of radiation was adjusted to the weight of a man. However, Annunaki began to alter it. Either they enlarged it causing our DNA to undergo some fatal changes that led to hereditary damages or they reduced it, which caused construction of hydrogen compounds in our brain, which led to the reduction of intellect. What irritates me most," he disgustedly exclaimed, "is that we are helping them destroying us! With our irresponsible activity we are constantly, day by day, hour by hour, minute by minute destroying our planet Earth not caring that our lives depend on it. We ourselves are sawing off the branch on which we are sitting. It's unforgivable how stupidly we are toying with nuclear energy which can, if it slips out of control, make us all freaks or kill us!"

I had to agree with his last remark at least.

Maurice continued: "And that's why they kidnapped Isabelle and Professor!"

"Because of radiation?" I asked, confused.

"No! Because they fear that Isabelle and Professor will bring the five lost chromosome helixes of our DNA back to life! That would mean an enormous threat to their existence!"

I was probably losing my mind because suddenly I remembered the stories of unexplained disappearances of some people who were not aware of having been absent for a long time and didn't have the slightest idea where they had been for days, months, years maybe! They could not remember anything. If that was true, if people were telling the truth, and I must say that their stories were convincing even for me, the sworn unbeliever, then, who knows, some aliens might really have kidnapped Isabelle and Otrin? Therefore, I decided to find out more about those Annunaki!

17.

We were back in our hotel room. I was lying on my bed, Maurice was pacing the narrow passage between our beds and the wall, glowing with the enthusiasm to have been given permission to enlighten me with, as he had said, very important information about some Annunaki, of whom I had never heard before.

"Annunaki came to the Earth because they needed metal to build some kind of a shield around their planet Nibiru to protect them against the Sun. Many scientists and scientific institutions in different parts of the world have confirmed their presence on the Earth, independently. Professor came to the same results by using his methods of etymology and other language tools. He discovered a lot more than the others. He found out what the Annunaki looked like. They had a bull's head on a snake like body of a man, similar to the appearance of the Minotaur."

"Minotaur? Who the hell is he?"

"It's the Man with a Bull's head. The legend says that King Minos once prayed to Poseidon the sea god to send him a snow white bull as a sign of support. He was to kill the bull to show honor to the deity, but decided to keep it instead because of its beauty. That made Poseidon angry. To punish him he made Mino's wife fall in love with the bull. She conceived a child and the fearful Minotaur was born. Half bull half man." (Wikipedia)

I couldn't help laughing. "I hope you don't believe this legend."

"Shall I continue or not?" he asked reluctantly.

"It would give me immense pleasure," I exclaimed mockingly, which he did not notice because he was too eager to tell me more.

"There is a proof in the Bible that Annunaki lived on the Earth even in Moses' time. Caleb and Joshua were sent by Moses ahead to reconnoiter the land of Canaan. They returned with a big cluster of grapes and with news that in the land of Canaan live giants.

Annunaki were, in fact, giants. According to Professor, the giants, at least those mentioned in different stories, for example in Homer's Illiad, or the giant Longinus, who pierced Jesus in his side with a lance, were not made up. Moses was also very tall..."

"Are you telling me that Moses was an Annunaki himself?"

"Well, he did not have a bull's head but his miracles show that he possessed supernatural abilities."

"As much as I remember it was God who helped him with his miracles, not Annunaki!"

As a kid I was a churchgoer and had to learn stories of Bible that later fell into oblivion, nevertheless, some fragments still managed to remain in my memory. Thus I remembered that Moses turned a rod into a serpent. The water of a river became blood. He stretched out his hand and the Red Sea parted so that the Israelites were able to escape. And there were some more which I forgot.

"It was either God, who helped him or a 12 helix DNA," replied Maurice. "And that brings me back to the Earthlings. The first inhabitants of the Earth possessed a 12 helix DNA, Annunaki had only a 10 helix one. Some sources, with which I disagree, are claiming that Annunaki were eager to find out what was hidden in the sixth pair of the 12 helix DNA, which they lacked. It is said that they were making experiments on the sixth pair till they did not, unable to find out what it contained, destroy it. Unfortunately, they did not destroy only the sixth pair, they destroyed all the pairs except one. The one we possess today. The DNA double helix."

"And why don't you agree with that?"

"Before giving you my opinion, let me tell you more about the history of the Annunaki as others described it. The chief leader of the Annunaki was God Anu. He lived on the planet Nibiru. It was for this planet that Annunaki needed a shield, made of gold, to protect them against the Sun. Anu had two sons, Enki, also called Ea, the first born and Enlil, the second born. The two brothers hated each other. Enki was angry because his younger brother Enlil became the inheritor of Anu's throne. Namely, Enlil was the son of Anu and Anu's sister's daughter (his niece) and thus genetically closer to Anu than Enki, who was the son of Anu and his wife, the Queen. Thus, the throne belonged to Enlil. Yet, Anu made up for the wrong he had done to Enki, by endowing Enki with the knowledge of genetic science. Genetic engineering. Thus Enki had no difficulties with cloning while our scientists are progressing slowly, making their first steps. Enlil was, of course, envious and so the brothers were in constant fight.

It was Enki who discovered the 12 helix DNA in the creatures on the Earth. According to the sources, he started to manipulate the genes of the Niberians and the Earthlings. He was blending the genes of Niberians with the genes of the first inhabitants of the Earth. He used Niberian mothers to bear the embryo and give birth to the child. With gene manipulation Enki supposedly created the people, animals, plants and the whole living atmosphere on the Earth in the shapes we know now. Being an extraordinary scientist Enki knew the exact composition of the DNA, he knew how to cut it into parts, take out genes, insert in new ones and then put the parts together again. Nevertheless, each experiment of blending Nibirian genes with the genes of the inhabitants of the Earth, again and again gave the same result: creatures with a DNA double helix! It is hard to imagine isn't it? How on earth can blending of a ten helix DNA with a 12 helix DNA give a DNA double helix? Well, I don't believe it happened unintentionally."

"What do you believe then?"

"In my opinion he was deliberately destroying the 12 helix DNA of the Earthlings. My conclusions comply with what was happening among the Earthlings and the Annunaki. I have already told you that Anu was the god of the Annunaki and as a god probably more or less cared about justice. His sons feared exactly that. Their father's sense of justice. The reports say that the sons were not very kind to the inhabitants of the Earth. Moreover, they were lazy and haughty.

They subjected the Earthlings to their slaves, who had to dig in mines to find metal for them. In addition, they tortured them and mocked and so the Earthlings complained to Anu. When God's sons learnt about that they took prompt actions. They scattered the first inhabitants of the Earth across the face of the entire Earth. Being far away from one another, the people began to speak their, once common language, differently and soon they were unable to understand each other. They ceased to be one people speaking one language. Not united they presented no threats any more to the sons of God. Nevertheless, the Annunaki never again trusted the Earthlings and many of them thought it would be best to destroy the earthly vermin. They brought floods on the Earth, famine, starvation. They infected the inhabitants with deadly bacteria and viruses. Thus they decimated the population on the Earth, yet they were unable to eradicate it. But finally an opportunity to finish their job cropped up. The planet Nibiru, the home of the Annunaki, which orbits the Earth, started to near the Earth. Here I must tell you something else. According to Professor's foretelling, the planet Nibiru is nearing our Earth now too and will reach its nearest point in the year 2016. This will cause enormous catastrophes on the Earth, for Nibiru has a strong magnetic power and when it comes close to the Earth, the axis of the Earth will incline which will cause immense floods. You probably remember the fatal flood described in the Bible, ordered by God himself?"

"Of course I do."

"Well, according to Professor, it was not God but the nearness of the Nibiru that caused it. Annunaki knew what was going to happen.

They knew that this time the whole Earth would be under the water and all life destroyed. Enlil, the heir to the throne, who wished to get rid of the pest of humanity on the Earth, looked forward to it. Therefore, he sent out orders not to tell the Earthlings about the nearing cataclysm. Everybody obeyed him except his brother Enki. Whenever he could, he thwarted his brother's plans. Thus, he whispered to Noah to build a bark, later called Noah's ark and to bring into it two of all living creatures, male and female, along with every kind of food to be stored as food for the animals and his family while on the ark. Life was saved. But not because of good heartedness of Enki or even love towards humanity! No, it was saved just to oppose Enlil!"

"Tell me, Maurice," I said, "how is it possible that the Annunaki, possessing a 10 helix DNA predominated the Earthlings, with a 12 helix DNA? Wouldn't the opposite be more logical. The human beings should be smarter and stronger."

"Well, it depends," he said thoughtfully. "It depends on what the sixth pair contains. I most certainly do not agree with those scientists who are trying to prove that the sixth pair was hiding a special ability. An ability that even the Annunaki didn't have. What ability, for god's sake? They already possessed telepathy, clairvoyance, ability to go to higher dimensions, immortality. What else could there be? I tell you, Tibor, nothing!"

"Nothing?"

"Nothing at all! In the sixth pair, there was no new ability!"

"Why did they then have the sixth pair? Just to make confusion? To make us wonder?"

He stopped at the foot of my bed, his eyes shining feverishly. "No, no, Tibor. The sixth pair is an inhibitory part of the DNA!

I frowned. "Inhibitory? What does it inhibit?"

"This last pair prevented human beings the use of the other five or at least four pairs! The sixth pair was, to my belief, a brake! It prevented the Earthlings the use of foreseeing, telepathy, teleportation, transition in higher dimensions. For, with these supernatural powers the Earthlings would overpower the Annunaki. They would be able to foresee all Annunaki's intentions, they would be warned of dangers and they would have many options how to avoid them. One would be through telepathy. With the power of their thoughts they would be able to influence Annunaki's decisions, directing them away from them. The other would be the ability to escape with the help of teleportation, escape into higher dimension where the Annunaki could not follow them or at least would be unable to find them. Yet, these abilities could not be activated because of the brake! Because of the sixth pair!

Some say the sixth pair might have contained immortality, but if that was true the first inhabitants of the Earth would still be alive!"

"If our abilities were blocked by the sixth pair then there was no need to be afraid of us, no need to destroy our 12 helix DNA, is it?" I asked, becoming quite interested in the story.

"If you ask me, Enki did not trust the blocker. He was afraid that due to some vibration or substance it might give way."

"And so he destroyed all pairs except one? The one we possess now?"

"In my opinion, he tried to destroy them, but was unable. That's why he was making experiments again and again. In the end he just created the blocker, but not trusting it, as I have said, he put all pairs of DNA, except the double helix, to sleep.

After that he kind of cemented the five supernatural helixes together with the blocker with a substance, which we now call inactive substance of the DNA. In the same way as builder's coat or water something with concrete.

After removing danger of being overcome by the Earthlings, they could proceed with exploiting them and holding them in ignorance.

If it hadn't come to the dispute between Enlil and Enki, human beings to this day would not have known even how children are conceived and born!"

"Oh, come on, Maurice, now you are going too far!"

"No, I'm not! I have already mentioned that Enki was able to clone, i.e. create life. I'm sure that he aroused fear and respect. Enlil was, of course, envious and did everything to make human beings believe that he was the creator of life and not Enki. The creator of children. Being in power, he could easily take some actions. He, for example, separated the women from men. He allowed sexual intercourses among women or intercourses among men. They didn't have the slightest idea that another kind of sex, heterosex was possible. For creating the natural offspring, he chose some women and men, took them to secluded places, made them mate and bear children. He then gave children to different people; the parents were, of course, prevented to come back. There was danger they would tell how things really work. If people had found out about the original sin, Enlil would have no longer been the mighty God and Creator.

Then one day some of these parents managed to escape. I'm sure it happened with the help of Enki. Or it might be that Enlil himself discarded them after they became useless to him. Those people then told the truth to the others. They explained vaginal sex between a man and a woman and its consequences. Children!"

He looked at me with satisfaction on his face. I needed some time to think about what he had just told me. Well, what I had heard were tales, fairy tales, I decided. Most of them identical to biblical stories. The last part about ignorant men and women, not knowing about heterosexual sex and the pleasure it offered and that it produced children, made me laugh. But, I had to listen to all this nonsense because Maurice had promised me information that would help me find Isabelle and Otrin. Where was this information? I did not see it. I sat up.

"Maurice, what does all this have in common with the disappearance of Isabelle and Otrin?"

"They were probably kidnapped because they meant danger."

"To the Annunaki?"

"Yes. Professor is on the way to awaken the sleeping pairs of our DNA. That is for sure danger for them."

"Did they kill them?"

"No, I don't think so, they, especially the Professor are too precious for them. He knows more than they do."

"Where did they take them then?"

"I suppose, that a group of the Annunaki has its hiding place on the Earth or underground, in some tunnels. According to some legends Maitreya, the future Buddha who will reign after the destruction of this world, is already hiding in one of those tunnels."

I climbed out of the bed, thinking what an immense portion of stupidity I had to swallow in the last few days. It was getting unbearable. It was starting to alienate me from the case, from the reality, from the truth I was after. Instead of looking for Otrin on this earth, I was suddenly supposed to look for him in some tunnels, residences of gods, sons of gods... Oh, my, my...

"Maurice, now I'm going to tell you what I think happened to Isabelle and Otrin. Isabelle smelled danger. She might have even noticed J.E. somewhere, or she assumed that he was following her and so she dragged Otrin to some other place."

"But her car is in the garage!" he protested.

"Yes, and that's why I think they couldn't have gone far. I'm going out once again to see if I can find any trace. You'll stay in the room and wait for me."

"I'll go with you!"

"No, you won't! Stay here and wait for me!"

I needed peace. I had to be alone to get my thoughts in order.

18.

First I returned to Isabelle's flat to search it once again. I found nothing. I even started to look into trash bins but stopped when one of the neighbors told me they had been emptied two days ago. I walked the streets of St. Rémy, intently watching the buildings, trying to find out in which Isabelle and Otrin might be. I was imagining that Isabelle was secretly watching me from behind one of the curtains.

Tired, despondent and fed up with everything I stopped at a pub and ordered a cup of coffee. It was so warm outside in the garden that I had to take off my coat. It was quite unusual for March. But unusual was the whole winter. Too warm and without snow. Even in our country which is known for cold weather in winter. This weather was the constant discussion in all radio and television news as being unusual, as something that had never happened before. The blame was on environmental pollution. New laws to reduce greenhouse gas emissions were accepted. I must stress that I have nothing against such laws, they are necessary, but in relation to unusual weather conditions, I have my own theory. I know there have been unusual weather conditions since the Earth exists. In my opinion, the changes have always been due to the position of the planets and not to what we are doing on the Earth. Last winter, for example, was described as the coldest in the history of the Earth but after a while a meteorologist found out that there were winters like that in the past too, which confirmed my argument that climate changes are subject to a sort of cycling. They come around eventually.

Suddenly, a familiar language, spoken by two women at the table behind me, attracted my attention. It was my mother tongue! When you are so far from your homeland, your mother tongue reaches your ear like a gentle melody, it is like a caressing hand. I had to turn around. I was right. Two women were sitting at the table. One was older than me; she must have been over sixty, the other, a little younger and slimmer. The elder woman seemed somewhat familiar to me but, I was not able to remember where I had already seen her. She became aware of my looks and gave me a kind smile.

"Our compatriot, am I right?" she asked.

"It's nice to hear our language so far from home," I answered. "That's true," she agreed. "Have you been here long?"

"Two days," I said and asked if I may join them.

"You are welcome," she exclaimed. I took my cup and moved over to their table.

"That's my friend Stana," she said. "A Slovenian by birth, living in Paris."

We shook hands.

"I came to visit her. I live in Ljubljana. By the way, I'm Marija."

At that moment, I knew who I was talking to! To Marija Doval! The woman who had been travelling with Peter and who had presumably stolen his suitcase! I was shown a photo of her at the airport. According to J.E., she was one of the head terrorists in the net that he was after. I hardly stopped myself from bursting into laughter. This woman a terrorist? This small, plump, old, kindhearted woman? Impossible!

Nevertheless, a police officer has to be cautious, even though his logic tells him there is no need to be. I must admit there have been situations where all logic denounced. That is why I did not tell the women who I really was and why I was interested in them. What bothered me was why the women were in St. Rémy at exactly the same time as were Isabelle and Otrin!

"Have you already visited Saint-Paul's mausoleum?" asked Marija.

"No," I said. "Not yet."

"You must! "she exclaimed and continued enthusiastically: "It used to be a convent in old times, then it was sold to the state and a physician turned it into a mental hospital. Vincent Van Gogh was treated there."

The mausoleum was only a few steps from where we were sitting. I could see the windows she was pointing to.

"He painted two of his most precious paintings there," she continued. "You must go and see his two rooms that have been turned into a museum. It would be a shame to be here and not to see it! That wall over there, "she pointed to some stones, "was built in the 14th century. Moreover, the whole city was built on the remains of the Roman city of Glanum. You'll be surprised at the great number of archeological sites in this city!"

"Don't forget Caroline, the Princess of Monaco," added Marija's friend. "She lives here too. I heard that Diana, the late Princess bought a house here as well!"

Their faces were shining with excitement, but I hardly listened to them. I was thinking how to find out what really interested me.

When they got up to leave, I hurriedly said:

"Do you, ladies, have any special plans for this afternoon? I... hm... I'd appreciate some help with the sights. I see your knowledge of..."

Regret showed on Marija's face when she answered: "Sir, we won't be here in the afternoon. We are going to Avignon to get our plane tickets."

"Your plane tickets?"

"Yes. We will fly to Brussels tomorrow but we think it is safer if you take the tickets a day before the flight. That is why we are going to Avignon this afternoon."

I walked them back to their hotel. On the way, I learned which bus to Avignon they were going to take. After we parted, I hurried to Maurice. I told him about Marija Doval.

"But are you sure about that?" he asked doubtfully. "Isn't such coincidence strange? I can't believe it!"

"You can't believe it!" I exclaimed angrily. "You believe in monsters from the space but you do not believe that you can meet a normal human being in St. Rémy? Well, get ready! We are going to Avingon!"

"To Avignon?"

"Yes, to Avignon!"

Waiting in our car, hidden behind some trees, we were watching some passengers and the two women board the bus. Then we tailed it. The airport Caumont was only about twenty kilometers away. I have never heard about it but it was familiar to Maurice.

"In the 14th century Avingon was the seat of the Papacy instead of Rome, "Maurice said. "And according to Professor, it will be again in the distant future after Vatican is destroyed."

I gave no comment on this. I had other worries.

After the women got off the bus in Avignon, they disappeared inside the airport building. I would like to follow them but was afraid they might see me.

Maurice squinted at me. "What if they fooled you? What if they don't fly tomorrow but are boarding the plane now, to escape us?"

He really got on my nerves. He said exactly what I was afraid of and did not want to admit to myself. I decided to go and see where they were, when I saw them coming out of the airport building. A sigh of relief escaped me. They went, deep in conversation, towards the center of the city.

I nearly threw Maurice out of the car, saying: "Go, follow them!"

Maurice looked at me surprised. "Me? What about you?"

"I have to find out if they really bought tickets to Brussels for tomorrow. I'll catch up with you!"

After I showed my badge to the girl at the counter, she told me that the women had bought two tickets to Brussels for the next day.

Therefore, Marija was not lying to me. Upon reflection, I too bought two tickets. The same destination. The same plane. I demanded seats far away from the two women. The girl did not say anything, but I saw that she was tense, or maybe even scared.

"They did not commit any crime," I said, I had to say something otherwise she might hit the panic button and my research would come to nothing, "however, they are going to take me to a person who knows some information I most need. And, miss, I must ask you for discretion, that is, do not to tell anyone of what I've told you and by all means, don't try to warn the ladies. If you do, I'll have to charge you of not obeying police orders."

She nodded, her eyes glimmering with fear. I knew she would not dare to disobey my orders.

Outside it suddenly came to my mind, what if Otrin and Isabelle had escaped by plane? They could have taken a taxi to bring them here. It was near, only a few kilometers.

I hurried back to the frightened girl.

She immediately looked at the list. I saw she didn't dare say that passengers' names were confidential and that she should not reveal them.

"Yes," she said. "Two days ago they took a flight to Brussels."

I called Maurice.

"Where are the women?" I asked nervously.

"In a shop," he said. "Looking at clothes."

He told me where he was and a few minutes later, I joined him. The information astounded him.

"They flew to Brussels? But why?"

"Don't ask me!" I yelled. "It seems after all J.E. was right! I made a fool of myself, defending Otrin! He is a terrorist! All of them are terrorists!"

I was afraid he'd skin me alive, so angry he became. I stepped back. "Isabelle is not! She might seem confused, well, she might be confused, she might have lied, but she is not a terrorist! Never! I don't allow you to say that!"

"You are in no position to allow or disallow me anything!"

We looked daggers at each other. Then I said, trying to keep my voice calm: "Okay, then tell me what all of them were doing in St. Rémy and why all of them are now suddenly heading for Brussels?"

"How am I to know that? All I know is that Isabelle is not a terrorist!"

19.

Marija Doval and her friend took the last bus back to St. Rémy and we again tailed it. It was very late when we arrived. I parked the car in the parking lot opposite the entrance of the hotel in which Marija Doval and her friend were accommodated. I decided to watch the hotel the whole night. Maurice wanted to keep me company but I sent him to our hotel. Reluctantly he obeyed.

The night was long and cold. And I was dead tired. I nodded off quite a few times. I was angry with myself each time I woke, for during my sleep, even though it had lasted a few seconds, the women could have slipped out of the hotel unnoticed. In fact, when Maurice joined me early in the morning I had no idea, whether the women were still in the hotel or not. What a relief it was, when some minutes later the women appeared and got into the bus.

I was also grateful to Maurice for remembering to bring my luggage too.

"What about the bill," I asked. "Paid," he answered.

In Avignon, we waited until Marija and her friend disappeared into the airport building. Then we parked the car. We were the last to board the plane. Heads low, we crept to our seats that were in the last row, while theirs were in the first. The chances to be spotted by them were almost zero, nevertheless, I decided to be highly cautious.

After I had settled myself in the seat and fastened the belt, I closed my eyes, hoping, I would get some sleep, I missed at night. In vain! My head was too full. Have I finally started to make progress? Was I on the track of the greatest crime in the history? Not only that I was on the track, I was about to prevent it, I! Not J.E., I!

While he was probably digging all over Paris to find Maurice, I was preparing the big catch. Not without satisfaction and a malicious smile on my lips, I imagined his face when the big news got him.

On the other hand, I was well aware that it wasn't going to be long until he found out where Maurice was. The fact that he was with me would put another idea into his head, if it hadn't already been there: that I was a terrorist too. If I wasn't I would have handed Maurice to him. He probably had me on his list of the suspects before, yet because I was a police officer he did not dare to start investigating me without evident proofs. Now he had them. And if I don't succeed in solving this mess as soon as possible, I'll find myself in great trouble. Now I was lucky to be a step ahead of him and I'll have to act fast. I must be ready when Marija Doval and her friend join Otrin and Isabelle.

The plane landed. People got up from their seats, starting to collect their things from the boxes above them. Then they impatiently waited for the plane door to open, standing in the narrow corridor between the two rows of seats, pressing against each other. I told Maurice to hurry to the exit, to stealthily follow the two women. With the help of my badge, I left the plane by the exit for the airport staff. Then I waited in a taxi for Maurice to join me and the women to come out of the airport building. Maurice came first. He immediately spotted the taxi I was in and hurried across the street to me.

"What the hell are you doing," I shouted when he opened the door. "Where are the women? Why did you leave them?"

"There they are," he said, pointing to a bunch of elderly women, pouring out through the door across the street, laughing and chatting lively at the same time. "There they are," he repeated. "They have joined a group of tourists. All women. All old."

"I'll be damned..."

A young woman, the only young in the group, holding a tourist brochure high above her head as a signpost, led them to a bus, waiting at the parking lot at the corner of the airport building.

"They are pretending to be tourists going on a tourist trip," I said. "They are all terrorists. J.E. was right. Old women are the worst. Maurice nodded.

After they'd climbed into the bus to the city, I ordered the taxi driver to follow them.

"Your phone is ringing!"

"What?"

"Your phone is ringing, "repeated Maurice. "In your pocket."

"Oh, yeah, thanks. "I was so deep in thoughts that I overheard it. It was Frank.

"We found the suitcase," he said.

"Really? Where?" I have completely forgotten the suitcase!

"It was sent, by mistake, to Ethiopia. You know how it works there. They opened it, searched the content, closed it again and left it, I don't know where. Then it attracted the attention of a cleaner and after that, they finally read the address written on it and decided to send it back."

"Send it back to Slovenia?"

"Yes. The airport has already handed it over to Otrin's wife."

For a moment, my thoughts wandered to Kate. I could imagine what she felt, receiving Peter's suitcase and still not knowing whether Peter was alive or not. It must have been hard. But, when she finds out that it is true what J.E. said about him, being the leading terrorist, she'll wish he were dead.

However, the suitcase did not get out of my head. This suitcase was the central part of this terroristic group. It was supposed to be stolen by Marija Doval, which was Otrin's lie, of course. The reality was that there was a bomb in it and to avoid police and customs control Marija Doval took it, claiming that it was hers, expecting, according to her previous experiences, that they would not examine the luggage of an old lady. The expectation proved to be justifiable. But now, that the suitcase has been found in Ethiopia with no traces of a bomb in it,.... Well, it means... What does it mean? That, after all, Otrin and Marija Doval are no terrorists at all or that the suitcase was sent to Ethiopia to cover the tracks? If that were true then they must have collaborators at the airports, in Paris and the one in Ethiopia. J.E. was talking about the terroristic world net. What if he was right? The bus stopped and the women got off. One by one, like ducks, they followed the young woman. Was she a terrorist too? Were they all terrorists?

We left the taxi and secretly followed the group. I, hiding behind Maurice's back. I'd never been to Brussels before, so I gaped at the nice sight opening in front of us. It was marvelous. Breathtaking! The market was not paved, as is the habit in our country but was covered with enormous, soft, colorful flower carpet, watered by fountains and cooled by low trees. Three beautiful houses, palaces in fact, like those I had seen in Rome and Vatican were arranged around it. From under the roofs of the palaces facing each other, each standing on one side of the flower carpet were hanging European flags.

In those buildings the European Parliament is probably having their sessions when they are in Brussels instead of Strasbourg, I thought. Suddenly, Maurice uttered a hysterical cry: "Isabelle! Isabelle!" He was pointing towards the third palace. At that moment, my eyes caught the glimpse of Marija Doval! She rapidly left her group and hurried towards Isabelle who was accompanied by Peter Otrin! Both, Isabelle and Otrin, were moving slowly, somewhat cautiously towards the first palace! The one in which at exactly that moment the European Parliament was holding a conference! The thought that they intended to blow it up made me start to run as mad in the direction of the three to stop them. Maurice was close at my heels. I could hear his heavy breathing. Being only a few paces away, I suddenly, to my horror, spotted J.E. in the crowd, followed by two police officers! The officers grabbed Isabelle and Otrin, J.E. caught Marija Doval by the arm. She, screaming angrily, began to wriggle violently, trying to get rid of his hands. A large group of people gathered around them. Maurice furiously started to elbow his way through the crowd. "No!" I cried. "Maurice, don't! He'll arrest us, too! Let us run away!"

But that fool would not listen to me, so, the only thing I could do was to follow him!

The van with Otrin, Marija Doval and Isabelle was about to drive off when J.E. noticed Maurice hurrying towards them. He jumped out of the van like a wild cat, knocked Maurice to the ground, twisted his arms behind his back and forced him to get up, then pushed him into the van.

"J.E.!" I cried. "He has done nothing wrong! Let him go!"

J.E. turned around, one leg in the van, starting to grin broadly at the sight of me.

"Well, well, what an honor. Let me invite you to join us!"

He pulled his leg out of the van to make room for me to enter.

"And if I turn down your invitation?" I asked. I was well aware that it was not an invitation.

"Something tells me you will not," he answered with an unpleasant smile on his face.

"Am I under arrest?"

"Of course not," he answered sweetly. "You'll help me with interrogations. I need experts."

I was not far from smashing his hypocritical, insolent face. But not to make the situation worse, I quickly pulled myself together and climbed into the van. I had the honor to get the passenger seat. The van was divided by a glass wall. I could see Maurice, Isabelle, Marija Doval and Otrin behind it, but I was unable to hear them. The glass was soundproof. Maurice was embracing Isabelle. Otrin's gaze was blank; he was pale, shrunken. In a word, in a very bad condition.

He seemed not to know where he was or what had just happened. He was obviously not aware of the presence of the others. Beside him was sitting Marija. Judging by her swinging arms and movement of her lips I knew that she was still screaming.

J.E, pulled to a stop in the parking lot of the police station. Handing me handcuffs he said: "Handcuff them!"

"But, J.E.," I protested, "there is no need to..."

"Do as I told you!"

Using the back door, I climbed in. Maurice looked hopefully at me, but I said nothing to calm him or the others down, to reassure them that everything would be okay, knowing it was not going to be, not in the hands of J.E. Besides I did not know whether they were terrorists or not, so I just said: "I advise you to cooperate or you'll make things worse."

They didn't cooperate. Maurice stubbornly stuffed his hands into his pockets instead of stretching them ahead, Isabelle hid her hands behind her back and when I tried to touch her, she snarled, showing her teeth to me, two rows of beautiful white teeth, ready to sink into the skin of my hand. I left her alone. Marija Doval was flailing her hands like mad, still screaming hysterically, only Otrin was sitting silent and lifeless, he didn't even as much as bat his eyelid when I handcuffed him. As for the other three, J.E. had to call for help. Six of his officers had their hands full to shove them into the building.

20.

After J.E. had given hard, furious and emotional lecture to the four young officers on how they were totally inefficient, how they did not care about their own country, how the most beautiful buildings in Brussels would already have been blown up if he hadn't prevented it by catching the Foreigner, his accomplices Marija Doval, Isabelle, Maurice and me, after he succeeded in making his officers stand in front of him with tails between their legs, he ordered one of them to fetch the Foreigner, Peter Otrin in fact and it was then that I was happy that Kate was not with me anymore. I was looking for the opportunity to tell Otrin who I was and about Kate having been here, looking for him ever since J.E. brought us to this police office, however, J.E. made sure I never got this opportunity.

Otrin seemed exhausted. He was pale and emaciated. He looked ill. I tried to talk J.E. into having him examined by a doctor first, but he refused.

"We don't have time for that! Who knows what they were planning to do when I caught them. They might have already planted a bomb, which is going to explode any minute!"

Then he turned to Otrin, yelling: "Where have you been the last week?"

Peter wearily looked at him. But when he spoke, his voice did not sound tired, it sounded angry and bitter. "Everywhere. This bitch is crazy."

"Why did you disappear?"

"Because of the razor blade on my neck!" Now he was shouting.

J.E. warned him not to raise his voice again, which made Otrin even more furious.

"Not raise my voice? You treat me like a criminal, and I shouldn't raise my voice? That crazy woman nearly killed me, and you cuffed me instead of her! What kind of police are you? She had been dragging me around like a sack of shit for one whole week! Where were you all the time? Hiding somewhere? And then, when you finally decide to act, you cuff me and treat me like a murderer! Me! I demand that you immediately release me. Immediately!"

His lips were trembling. His black eyes were glowing with anger. He jumped up, but two policemen shoved him back into his seat. When listening to him, looking at him I couldn't but ask myself, if he was, after all, not telling the truth. He sounded so convincing, was so sincerely agitated that I nearly believed him. Wasn't he, after all, a victim and not a terrorist? To tell the truth, I would be disappointed if terrorists looked like Otrin. Not only physically, but... Well, don't get me wrong, I do not sympathize with the terrorists, I hate them, however, if they were like Otrin, then there would be something terribly wrong with the rest of the world. Including me. And please, don't say, that you shouldn't judge a book by its cover. Not in this case. Otrin was hiding nothing. Nothing at all. He was what he appeared to be. An angry, worn out, stubborn old man. To be intimidated by people like Otrin, would be ridiculous. But J.E. was too infatuated with himself to see it.

"Let's start again," he said firmly. "What is your name?"

Otrin stubbornly pressed his lips together. He gazed blankly at the wall behind him.

"Why did you come to France?"

No answer.

"What did you have in your suitcase?"

Silence.

"Where did you hide the explosive?"

Now Otrin's eyes became filled with horror. "What? Are you crazy? What explosives?"

"I'm the one to ask questions, not you! Where have you hidden it?"

Otrin unbelievingly stared at him. "Did I come into the land of fools, or what?"

"Answer!" J.E. was losing his temper. "Who are your accomplices?"

"What do they intend to do? What is their next target?"

Silence.

"Where are they hiding?"

Finally, J.E. hissed through his clenched teeth: "As you wish!"

He grabbed a folder, lying on the table in front of him and threw it into Otrin's lap.

"There in this folder is everything, each word you uttered in the Sorbonne lecture room! I order you to decipher all of your codes and write them on this paper!"

He threw some blank sheets at him. As Otrin did not bother catching them, they flew scattered on the floor. One of the policemen picked them up and shoved them into Otrin's hands. "You have time until evening! And remember I know your codes mean people, places, events! I want names! Names, have you heard? I want the exact time of the events! I want the names of the locations!" He shouted at the policemen. "Take him back to his cell!"Then he pointed with his forefinger to Otrin: "And remember, until evening!"

Now it was Isabelle's turn. I was not so sure about her innocence as I started to be with Otrin's, nevertheless, I had to admit to myself again, that she was the most beautiful girl, I had ever seen. No wonder Otrin fell for her charms. I would, too. Even the razor would not bother me. I had to lower my head to conceal the suppressed laughter at the thought that this tiny girl intimidated him, a grown up man, though not very strong, yet a man, with a razor! And once again I could not help thinking that his one-week capture was after all voluntary. And that Otrin's anger when trying to convince J.E. that he was a victim of the insane girl, was faked.

"Well, Isabelle," started J.E. kindly, "I want you to tell me about Professor's plans. I know you took him a prisoner and had to threaten him with a razor to prevent him, the dangerous terrorist, from escaping, and you will be awarded for that, but first you have to tell us, what this man was up to."

"I want the code!" she retorted, the color of her eyes turning from soft blue to cold grey.

J.E. faked enthusiasm. "That's it! Good girl! The code! Did he tell you the code? What is it? Put it down on this piece of paper, will you?"

He shoved the paper and a pencil before her. Isabelle's, somewhat dreamy look, wandered past him to the same wall that just some minutes ago hosted Otrin's stubborn eyes. She started murmuring: "pns, pppppppns, pnnns, pns... "

"Put it down, Isabelle,"J.E. impatiently urged her. "Put down the code. Write the meaning of it."

He rose and went to the other side of the table. When touching Isabelle's shoulder to encourage her, she wildly jumped up from her chair, screaming: "Don't touch me! Don't you dare to touch me! I am Victoria Isabelle de Saint Rèmy! The new European ruler! I want my throne! Get out of my way!"

J.E. astonishingly looked at her for some time. Then ordered coldly: "Isabelle, sit down!"

She seemed not to have heard him, so he beckoned to the police officers to shove her into her seat again. However, when they neared, she violently started fighting them back, kicking at them and screaming: "I am Victoria! The new European ruler! Victoria is Magdalene, because Magdalene is Vagdalene and Isabelle is Jesus, because Isabelle is Issu and my father was Dagobert, and he is a Meroving and I am Marat. My mother is a Habsburg..."

Finally, the two men held her firmly in their grip. J.E. went back to his seat. He studied her face for a few minutes, then, obviously fed up with her, waved his hand towards the door, and the officers carried her out. Yes, they had to carry her because she wouldn't walk! Long after the door had closed behind them, we still heard her screaming: "I'll have all of you beheaded! All of you! Ppns, pnnnnns, pns..."

After her voice faded out, I said to J.E. that she should be taken to a hospital. There was something terribly wrong with her. However, he again rejected my idea saying that Isabelle was bluffing.

"They are all liars! They are all trying to make a fool of me! "he shouted. "But I'll teach them a lesson they'll never forget!"

Breathlessly, he hurried to the door, turned around, pointed at me and hissed: "I'll be away for a while. Until I come back you are in command. However, I am warning you. If anything happens to a prisoner, if anybody escapes, you will pay with your life! Understood? "

I nodded. I understood and believed. Then he turned to the officers: "And you two are responsible for him (meaning me)! If he escapes, you are dead! Understood?"

They said it was. They, too, understood and believed.

After J.E had gone, we were looking at each other in embarrassment. My first thought was, of course, to escape. If it came to fighting, I would probably overcome these two boys, who were staring at me more with fear than hate. But, if I escaped, leaving Otrin here, how would I explain that to Kate? Or to my wife? Or to my friends who counted on me?

No, I decided. I will not escape. Yet, I'll not wait helplessly for J.E. to return either! I have to talk to Otrin, at least! I have to find out what he, Isabelle and Marija were looking for in Brussels. Did they really intend to blow up the Congress Palace?

I have to talk to Otrin, I repeated to myself. But how? Will the officers allow me to visit him in his cell? J.E. had told them to take care of me, to prevent me from escaping, but he had not told them explicitly not to allow me to talk to the prisoners. He even put me in command of them. I could make a use of that.

"I'm going to put some questions to the prisoners," I said trying to sound as if it was the most normal thing in the world. "One by one. The first will be the Foreigner. Take me to his cell."

The officers exchanged a perplexed look, not knowing whether they should allow me or not. I quickly resumed talking. I must not give them time to think, I said to myself, quickly changing my tactics. I switched my bossy way of communicating with a highly confidential, kind, persuasive one hoping to make them feel like allies. Allies, doing something good for their boss and themselves. I talked nineteen to the dozen how my investigation was going to help J.E. and how they were going to be awarded by him and so on. Finally, they agreed. They took me to Otrin.

"Call us when you finish," said one of them, and then they went back to the main entrance to guard it.

21.

Otrin lay curled up on his bed, his face to the wall. Although he must have heard me, he did not turn. He looked fragile and helpless. I sat in the chair next to his bed. Clearing my throat, I said: "Kate was looking for you. She was in Paris and in St. Rémy as well."

Without turning, he asked wearily: "Who are you?"

"My wife and your wife are friends. They asked me to find you. We, your wife and I, came to France..."

"Where were you so long? The woman nearly killed me!"

Anger in his voice made me angry, too! Who the hell did he think he was? He did not even bother to ask how Kate was! He was not interested if she was still here! He did not express the wish to see her! Besides, he could have shown at least some gratitude, for we really took great pains to get him out of the mess, he had put himself in. And dragged us all into it too.

"Are you at all aware of how many people you put in jeopardy?" I said crossly. "Including me! Because of you, I will be left to rot in this jail for the rest of my life!"

The old man finally turned around. "You? Why you?"

"Because I know you and tried to save you!"

He remained speechless for some time. All he could do was slowly shake his head. Then he said bitterly, half crying: "I really do not know what got into that girl's head. We were having such a good time. I thought we were having fun. Then suddenly she got completely mad. In addition to that I have no idea at all what this J.E. wants from me! Why he treats me like a criminal. When he came to the airport after I had reported my lost suitcase, he acted as if I had stolen it myself! What is the matter with that man?"

Now he raised his head and inquiringly looked at me.

"I will explain what," I answered. Then I told him what J.E. was accusing him of. Otrin's jaw dropped. After I had finished, he stammered: "The first minute I stepped on the French soil, I knew things were going to go wrong, and I immediately wanted to return, but J.E. would not let me go home."

"Peter, I know you don't like being interrogated but you cannot avoid it. When J.E. returns interrogation will become even uglier. I'd like to help you, but first I have to know the truth. So, please, answer this question without getting angry again: Have you ever, ever in your life come into contact with terrorism? I mean, have you met anybody, who had strange, violent ideas. Threatened to destroy..."

He stopped me by raising his hand. "For God's sake, detective..."

"Call me Tibor..."

"Tibor, I haven't met either terrorists nor non-terrorists for ages. I don't have time for meetings. I'm preoccupied with studying and writing. I am always running out of time for even most necessary things in my life. Thank God, Kate takes care of them. My answer is no. I have never met a terrorist in my life! I do not know what they look like! I know terrorism only as a word! It means..."

"Okay, okay," I hurried to avoid new explanation of words. "I had to ask."

"I know," he said.

"J.E. is convinced that the names in your lectures, like Bush, Laden, Sarah, Kriemhild and so on are codes. He thinks that, in fact, these names are the names of the terrorists who cooperate with you.

Moreover, he is sure that the names of places like Karsag, Worms and others are coded messages of places you intend to blow up."

"You must be kidding!" He stared at me as if I were a ghost. "When he was asking me about bombs and other stupidity, I thought they were just rhetorical questions. To anger me."

"No, Peter, they were not rhetorical."

He closed his eyes. I saw that his breathing became heavy. He looked so pale and ill and old that I feared he was going to die right now in front of my eyes.

"Are you okay, Peter?" I asked worriedly, getting up to feel his pulse.

To my relief, he opened his eyes and I sat down again.

"I have always been saying that the greatest danger comes from illiterate, stupid people," he said slowly, disappointedly. "From people with empty heads, being too lazy to fill them with some knowledge! Emptiness in your head easily becomes a hotbed for fears and ghosts. Stupid people are to be afraid of, believe me. Are to be avoided. They themselves arouse troubles and violence against which they are fighting. Because of the lack of knowledge. I tell you, stupid people are the real threat to this world. Bigger than any natural catastrophe."

"Peter, where the hell were you and Isabelle hiding all this time and what were you doing" I asked next. "You have to tell me everything, you have to tell me the whole truth, only then I might find a way to save us both."

"She invited me to go with her to the Provence for the weekend," he said.

"She invited you? Did she not force you to go?"

"No, she did not. Not at the beginning. She said it would be good for my writing if I visited Provence. You know, Provence plays an important role in my works."

He made a stop. Then he continued: "I don't like traveling, you know. In fact, I hate long travels, especially by car. Nevertheless, I decided to accept her invitation because Provence is strongly connected with the dynasty of the Merovings."

"Why didn't you tell Kate, your wife, that you intended to go away? Why didn't you answer her calls?"

He could not hide his embarrassment. "Hm... well... Isabelle suggested this trip should be our tiny secret. She was not going to tell Maurice, and I should not tell my wife. It was only for two days. I agreed I had the right to a two-day's peace, and so we turned off our phones. She was... well, at the beginning she was such a wonderful person. I must admit I was overwhelmed by her kindness... She helped me with everything. She even dined with me because I am not good at those self-service things. I don't know what to choose, what's good and what isn't. You know, at home Kate takes care of my food... my everything. I don't have time to. I must work. That girl led me to the shops with personal equipment like toothbrushes, toothpaste, shaving razors and so on. I had mine in the suitcase that got lost. You have probably heard that a woman had stolen it from me?"

"No, she did not," I surprised him. "Your suitcase was found in Ethiopia. It was sent there by mistake. Now it's already waiting for you at home."

This remark left him speechless for a few seconds. Then he murmured: "I was sure, she had stolen it."

"The woman, who was thought to have stolen your suitcase sat next to you in the van today."

He widened his eyes in amazement: "She? Next to me? How come, I did not recognize her?"

I risked an accusation to see his reaction. "Don't lie! You knew who she was. You had an appointment with her in Brussels! When she saw you she ran toward you like mad. I saw her. I saw both of you, so there is no need to keep it from me."

"Whaaaat?"

"Peter, you promised to tell the truth! However, if you do not want to, I will! You planned to meet at the Congress palace in which the European Parliament was in session that day. Tell me why!"

"I did not plan anything!" he shouted wildly. "Yes, I was on the way to the Congress Palace because I had no other choice! Isabelle was pressing the razor against my ribs!"

"This lie has no sense, Peter! The three of you came in front of the Congress Hall at the same time! You knew each other because you had met before. When Marija Doval saw you, she..."

"Wait until I tell you why we came. Isabelle and I. I don't know about the other woman. You'll have to ask her. We came with the intention to present Isabelle to the members of the European Parliament as the new European ruler!"

"Come on, Peter, you should try better!"

"I'm telling the truth and nothing but the truth! I have already told you that she kept me prisoner, threatened me with the razor the minute I did not obey her. I knew she would kill me if I acted against her will. I was in constant fear, I..."

"Why, the hell, didn't you try to take that damn razor out of her hands? She's weaker than you are! You are a man, for Christ's sake!"

"If you feel the cold, sharp blade on your neck or on one of your veins, you don't dare move, believe me! You are a fool if you think that a razor in a woman's hands is less dangerous than in a man's! Isabelle did not joke! She would not hesitate to kill me!"

After showing me cuts, some of them still fresh on his wrists and neck, I said to myself, well she might have after all, meant it.

"It was my idea to go to Brussels," he continued. "I persuaded her that the best time for her inauguration was when the whole European Parliament was assembled. And that was today. I hoped to get a chance to tell somebody that she was mad. I hoped to be able to cry for help. The fact is, that I would have been saved by now if that fool hadn't caught us and taken me prisoner again. Nothing has changed except that one fool was replaced by another!"

His story seemed logical. Acceptable.

A wry smile flickered across his face when he said: "As a man to man, I have to admit that at the beginning the attentiveness of this girl did me good. Not only because she was more sophisticated than most of the students I had known, not to mention that she was the only one who knew my written works, but also because she was young and pretty. I would lie if I denied I did not wish to be at least twenty years younger."

I started to like him for his frankness that I didn't expect.

"When she asked me if I wanted to spend the weekend with her, I felt like a teenager," he added, somewhat shamefully, but immediately burst into a self-mocking laughter again, while pointing to his flowery shirt: "She even managed to talk me into buying this! When my wife sees it, she'll think I lost my mind. In fact, I did!"

"What did you expect from the weekend with her?"

"To tell you the truth, I don't know what. I was trying to convince myself that Provence made me go, but deep inside me, I knew this wasn't the real reason. More than I was ready to admit to myself, I liked the idea of spending some days with that girl. Secretly, I even hoped... Well, you know what!"

I thought of Kate and nodded. Yes, I knew what.

"When did you find out what Isabelle really expected from you?"

"When we were about half the way to St. Rémy. At first, we were having great fun in the car. We were talking, laughing, discussing millions of things..."

"Her names among them?"

"Yes, and other things as well. History, for example. In addition, we enjoyed the wonderful landscape of Provence. We stopped here and there, tasted the famous Provencal wines. I felt heavenly. We were sitting in a restaurant on the highway when she asked me to read her destiny from her coffee cup. Of course, I told her only good, brilliant things. When I predicted her successful, brilliant life, life of a queen, I didn't even dream that I had just sealed my own fate! She thanked me for the final proof she needed. 'You know, Peter, 'she exclaimed happily, 'I have known all along that I am to be the next European ruler. And you confirmed it now. Thank you. Thank you!' The way she said it, the seriousness with which she had said it, made me laugh. She was silently, strangely watching me for some time before asking:

'Are you laughing at me? '

'Yes, no... Well, my dear, you were so cute when pretending that you believed in my fortunetelling, that I could not help laughing. You should be an actress. You missed your profession.'

Her face darkened, and I saw anger flicker in her eyes.

'Don't you ever again dare to make fun of me!' It was then that my drunkenness left me.

'Isabelle, don't be insulted, I was not making fun of you,' I started to apologize. 'I'd be happy if you became the ruler. I think you would make the best ruler in the world. I'll vote for you if it comes to that.'

'What do you mean I would make?' Her eyes were feverish, her face flushed with indignation, her voice hissing: 'I will be! There is no question about it! Don't doubt it or I'll have to kill you!'

Suddenly I realized that that girl was mad as a hatter. I got scared and decided to get rid of her as soon as possible. I made a plan to immediately return to Paris!

When we were leaving the restaurant, I put a worried grimace on my face and said desperately: 'Isabelle, I've just remembered I have a very important meeting this evening. With the Head of the Sorbonne and the Mayor of Paris. I should have cancelled it, but I forgot. I must go back. I really must! You understand it, don't you? I'll call a taxi, don't worry about me. You just go on, enjoy the weekend...'

Before I finished the sentence, a razor flashed in her hand. 'Get into the car!' she ordered. Needless to say, I obeyed."

After a short pause, Peter continued: "We spent the second part of the way mostly in silence. Or, I spent it in silence. Isabelle was talking about what made her the next European ruler. She said she had found all the necessary information in my books. With the help of my theories, she found out that Isabelle was the same as Issu/Essu. Jesus. She believed she was Jesus. She told me she had searched her family history and discovered that the grandfather of her father was an Austrian, which meant a Habsburg and that his name was Dagobert. As Dagobert was one of the Merovingian kings she was, without any doubt, the new European ruler and my duty was to help her to the throne.

We arrived at St. Rémy late in the night. The block of flats where she lived was in darkness. People were asleep. When I stepped into her flat, revealing her true origin, true social position, I was shocked.

But it wasn't the poverty that really took my breath away, it was the wall of the room, which was to be my bedroom. A big map of Europe covered almost all of it. There was a red circle around Brussels. Small pictures of Jesus, Mary Magdalene, Queen Victoria and her own were pasted around the map. At the top of the map the name Marat was written in red big, fat letters, at the bottom Habsburg, on the right side in even bigger letters Meroving.

Then I knew that she had studied the names long before my arrival to Paris. She invited me after she was certain that it was she who ought to be the new ruler. My role was only to confirm this. To prove it. Scientifically."

"Was there really no way for you to call somebody? "I asked. "When you were in her flat could you not draw any attention of the neighbors?"

He answered that he couldn't. Isabelle was close on his heels all the time. Even when going to the toilette the door had to be left half open.

"I am sorry, that the idea of going to Brussels and the Parliament to present her as the new ruler didn't enter my head sooner. She would have taken me there and in the Parliament I would have been able to shout for help. Instead I was trying to convince her that the names Isabelle and Victoria were bad for her, hoping she would decide to drop the idea of becoming the ruler. But I was wrong. She wouldn't believe me. She demanded from me to find the code for awakening her DNA Each time I said I couldn't, she gave me a cut on the skin. It lasted until I started to play her game. I told her I had discovered the code and gave it to her. It was murmuring pnspnspns. I warned her that the code needed some time to be activated and that in the meantime we could go to the Parliament to take the throne.

That fool agreed! That's why we were in Brussels heading for the Parliament building."

"I found your cry for help," I said. "And I read your efforts to dissuade her from the idea of becoming the ruler."

"I hoped somebody would find it and be able to read it," he said. "At that time, I was in extreme danger. Isabelle suddenly got an idea that I was the reincarnation of Charlotte Corday! Do you know who Charlotte Corday was?"

"After having read your lectures, I know everything," I laughed.

A sour smile spread over his face. He continued: "Charlotte Corday killed Marat. Isabelle was the reincarnation of Marat, so, according to our hostile relationship, I was probably the reincarnation of Charlotte Corday. After this recognition, she started to feel endangered by me. She thought Charlotte would try to repeat the same action in this life too, i.e. kill her. I went to great pains to make her believe that reincarnated people were reborn to repair the damage they caused in their past lives. That they try to make their karma better by acting differently. However, I did not convince her Upon a long reflection, she suddenly established that her karma, a karma of a victim of a terrible crime having been performed by me in my previous life when I was Charlotte Corday, demanded revenge from her. If she didn't revenge, she would be restless to the rest of her life, unable to reach her goals. It was then, out of despair, that the idea of Brussels, of her immediate inauguration in the Parliament, entered my mind and saved me! She needed me for this last act. After that she would kill me. "

A shrill scream came through the wall. It was Isabelle, shouting: "Pns! Pppppppppnns! Pnnnnnnnnnns! Pnsssssss!"

"She's trying to awaken her sleeping supernatural abilities?" I asked.

"Yes," he answered.

"And what does pns mean?"

A roguish smile showed on his face. "It means penis. She is vibrating the word penis! pns."

I joined him in laughter. "Is pns the code, you are all looking for?"

"Perhaps it is," he answered. "Nevertheless, Isabelle is sure it is. She came across the paragraph in my book that gives some solutions to how man can regain his lost image of god. You probably know," he said seriously, "that according to the Bible, the first man was perfect, made in the image of God. I'm convinced that man's regaining this image will happen through the penis, which is a tunnel, where daena/daemon, meaning dom (home in Slovenian), waits for him to take him into the birth egg, which is cosmos, in fact."

"If I understood correctly, Isabelle thinks that penis is the word that would, if pronounced correctly, open the door to the supernatural abilities?"

"Yes, she thinks that word is the door to heaven."

"And is it?"

"I don't know. Penis is only one of the words, which offer that possibility. Although it is, I admit, the strongest because of its reproductive role."

"Which are the other possibilities?"

"Words indicating things or persons with their heads down."

I stared at him in amazement.

He smiled understandingly." Let me give you some examples:

\- Saint Peter who was crucified with his head down,

\- a lamp (you know it hangs on the ceiling or stands on a desk, 'looking' down),

\- a lamprey,

\- a bat,

\- a penis,

\- a daffodil,

-a hangman (tarot cards).

You see, I enumerated a wide range of words, however, Isabelle decided to choose penis and from then on she keeps persistently murmuring it!"

"A good choice," I smirked. "It seems she trusted your theories more than anything in the world. How come, she did not take you seriously when you revealed all the bad characteristics of the names Isabelle and Victoria?"

He smiled bitterly. "I shouldn't have told her about substitutional victims."

"Substitutional victims? What's that?"

"Princess Diana was a substitutional victim, for example. Instead of the Queen."

I took a deep breath. "Are you suggesting, Diana was sacrificed by somebody or some of the people instead of the Queen?"

"No, no! She herself chose to be sacrificed! Sacrifice is not a sacrifice if it is not voluntary. She saved the Queen. And because she was pregnant, her child was a substitutional victim too, sacrificed to save the Prince, the heir to the throne."

"They proved she was not pregnant,"I insisted.

"I know better, "he answered stubbornly, not wanting to discuss that any further.

"You said that somebody decides to be sacrificed for somebody else. Who sacrificed herself or himself for Isabelle?"

"Nobody! And that's the point. She got it all wrong. She has put it into her head that a substitutional victim meant you could choose somebody to suffer instead of you. Somebody you can burden with your troubles, inconveniences, accidents, failures and so on. For example, you can redirect an accident, which was meant for you, to another person. To your substitutional victim."

"Oh, I see. Just like that donkey, who carries the sins of a whole village into the desert and dies there? "

"Something like that. When I tried to make her visualize all the horrors she would have to go through if she insisted on becoming the ruler, she carelessly waved her hand, saying: 'Don't worry, I'll find somebody who will have to undergo these troubles. And if she dies, I'll choose another one. It can't be easier!' I couldn't make her understand that the sacrifice must be voluntary. So you can see why I achieved nothing by warning her not to take the throne."

It was time to go to the other two prisoners, so I got up.

"I believe you, Peter, but that is, sorry to say, not enough. You'll have to convince J.E. as well. I advise you to be as cooperative as you can. Don't let him throw you off balance. Answer all his questions. You'll do no good to yourself if you keep silent."

He immediately got excited again. "Who, the hell, is that J.E.? A God? Our government sent you to bring me home, so he must let me free! He has no right to keep me here!"

"The fact is, Peter, that this man is said to be an expert for terrorism. All governments respect him and give him a free hand to act as he thinks is best. Now he thinks the best thing is to take us all prisoners. Me too. He even took my phone so right now I cannot inform our government where we are, what is happening to us and ask them to help us. We are left on our own. Therefore, we must be more than careful."

Finally, for the first time since our meeting, fear shone in his eyes.

"Don't worry Peter, I'll find a way to get us out of here. Trust me and do as I said."

He nodded and I left his cell.

I ordered the officers to take me to Marija Doval's cell but to my surprise they did not want to. While I was talking to Peter, they obviously decided that I had no right to investigate the prisoners. They escorted me back, by force, of course, to the office to wait for J.E.

While waiting, I was silently grinding my teeth, throwing furious looks at the officers. They did not care. They were standing like two statues at the door, guarding me.

"What is he doing so long?" I asked angrily after a while. "Where is he?"

They remained motionless as if they hadn't heard me. I knew they were afraid of J.E. I had heard him before accusing them of being ineffective and clumsy. He had threatened to fire them saying he didn't need them because he always had to do all the job by himself. If he hadn't caught us, he shouted at them, Brussels would be in ruins now.

No, I could not count on their sympathy and understanding. They were too scared.

I focused on J.E. When I told Peter that J.E. had a free hand regarding terrorism, I did not tell him the whole truth. He was doing things, which no government would approve of, so he was doing them secretly. And that was dangerous. For, instead of handing the suspects over to the prosecutors, as he was obliged to, he judged and sentenced them himself. Often to death and nothing happened to him. The government turned a blind eye on that. That's what I'd heard of different people. I feared that might be the case with us too.

My only hope was Frank. If he had tried to call me and couldn't reach me that must have seemed strange to him. He knew I would never turn off the phone if I was on a case. Especially a case like that. I hoped that his help was on the way and that it will arrive on time.

"I'd like to get my cell phone back," I said. The answer was no.

"I have the right to a lawyer!"

Now they didn't even bother to answer.

Suddenly, the door opened and J.E. came in. He was not alone. With him was a tall man, all muscles, shaved to the skin, big black spectacles on his nose, so I couldn't see his face. The man gave me the creeps. I knew why he was brought.

Without a greeting, without a word he threw himself into a chair, arms crossed over his chest. A satisfied smile showed on J.E.'s face.

"I brought an expert for hearings," he said maliciously. "He knows how to make our birds sing, don't you Claude?"

Claude nodded. I grabbed the sides of my chair so tightly that the knuckles of my hands became white. I was asking myself how much pain I would be able to endure if I was tortured.

"Bring the woman!" J.E. ordered and the officers left the room.

Marija Doval entered with a frightened look on her face. J.E. had to tell her twice to sit down before she was able to understand what he was saying. She sat on the edge of the chair as if prepared to run out of the room in case of a danger.

"Introduce yourself!"

Marija told her name.

"What is the reason of your coming to Paris?"

"I came to visit my friend, "she answered politely. "Were you in Madrid last June?"

"Yes, sir. I was. I have a friend there too."

"What about Rome in September?"

"Yes, I was..." She frowned. J.E. 's questions finally struck her as odd.

"Why did you come to Brussels?"

"I... I came sightseeing... I... Here... What did I do wrong?" Her lips started to tremble. She was scared to death. Tears sparkled in her eyes. She repeated: "What did I do wrong?"

I suddenly felt sorry for this poor, old lady. I opened my mouth to tell her some comforting words, but seeing J.E,'s threatening look, I changed my mind.

"Where did you plant bombs?"

Covering her mouth with both her hands, eyes wide open with horror, she stammered: "Oh, my God, what bombs? I don't know anything about bombs..."

Tears were starting to run down her cheeks. Her eyes wandered from one person in the room to another, asking for help. Nobody dared.

"Where are the bombs?" J.E thundered again while the gorilla with the dark spectacles was slowly, dangerously rising from his chair and stepped behind Marija's back.

"I, I came to Brussels to find my brother!"

"Look, look, so now we have a brother too," said J.E. mockingly. "Names! I want names! You can start with your brother's name!"

"I... I don't know, sir. I can show..." She wanted to open her bag.

J.E. jumped up, hysterically shouting to the gorilla: "Watch out! She's got a gun!"

The man knocked the bag out of Marija's hands. It fell on the floor, but before he picked it up, he twisted her hands on her back and cuffed them to the chair. Marija was loudly sobbing. Then he investigated the bag.

"There is no gun in there, "he said, throwing on the table the content of the bag. Keys, a purse, a photo, a piece of paper.

"I... I... wanted to find... to find my brother... my half-brother..."

J.E. angrily sat back again. He would have liked it if there had been a gun in that bag. He could act immediately! It would be so much easier!

"Your brother is the Foreigner, isn't he?" he howled.

Puzzlement showed on her face. "Sir?"

"The Professor," I explained and received a dirty look from J.E.

"No! No!" she cried. "I saw this man for the first time in my life on the plane! We were talking about his Prophecies. I was interested in what would happen to Ljubljana. I live there and..."

J.E. interrupted her, shouting: "Where did you plant the bomb?"

"I, I... there was no bomb... I....".

"When did you make arrangements to meet in Brussels?"

"Sir, we didn't make any arrangements. I was with my friends. We were admiring the nice buildings. Then I saw the Professor. I wanted to introduce him to my friends. They would be interested in his prophecies..."

"Where is the explosive with which you intended to blow up the Congress Palace?"

"I don't know anything, you must believe me, sir, I don't know..." Her nose was running but she could not blow it for her hands were cuffed. Her face was blushed, eyes wet.

The man behind her back grabbed her hair and pulled it. She screamed from pain. I could not endure it anymore, so I rose, but J.E. brutally shoved me down into my seat.

"I... I really know nothing about the bombs and explosives. Why don't you believe me? Please, please, let me go. I did nothing wrong... Pleeeease...".

"What were you doing in Brussels?"

"I told you, sir. I came to find my half-brother. My father and his mother were together in a German camp during the second world war. They fell in love. She got pregnant... They had to part. My father told me about her and my half-brother on his death-bed. My mother knew nothing about this. That woman wrote to my father that he bore him a son. He tore the letter. But on his deathbed I had to promise him that I would find him. On his death bed... That's why I came."

"Where is the bomb? Where is the explosive?"

"Please, please... auuuu... auuuu... it hurts. Please, believe me. Look at the photo... It's the photo of the woman. Of my brother's mother. On the paper is her address. You can verify it. I am not lying. Auuuu, please, no, it huuuurts..."

I grabbed the photo and held it in front of J.E.'s eyes. His eyes swept over it, uninterested, and then suddenly, he stretched out his hand and pulled the photo out of my hands. He gave it another look; I saw his face fall, his lips and hands tremble. Sweat broke out on his brow.

"Where did you get it?" he shouted angrily, jumping up from his seat. He was shaken to the core! He beckoned the gorilla to let go of her hair.

"Where did you get it?"

"My father gave it to me. The photo was taken in the camp..."

"You are lying, you... you communist whore! Lying! This is forged! Forged!"

With the photo in his hand, he rushed out. Dead silence fell upon us. We were exchanging glances. Nobody understood what had just happened. What had driven J.E. away. I decided to use the moment of confusion.

"Take the woman back into her cell,"I ordered to the officers. I feared that when J.E. came back and saw her, he might kill her, so upset was he about something connected with the photo. The best thing was to move her away from his eyes and then try to bring J.E. to senses.

As soon as the officers moved to do what I had said, the gorilla blocked their way, saying coldly: "Nobody is going to take anybody anywhere! We'll all wait for J.E. to return!"

"But...," I started.

"Shut up! No talking!"

We were sitting in complete silence in the office for five hours! Finally, J.E. returned. His face was the face of a dead man! White and ghastly! His eyes were full of hatred.

He pulled a gun out of his pocket and aimed it at Marija. I intended to jump and take the gun out of his hands but was stopped by the gorilla who grabbed me, pulled my hands behind my back and handcuffed me.

Aiming at Marija with a trembling hand, J.E. shouted: "You bitch! You damn bitch!" To our shock, tears began to run down his cheeks.

I saw Marija close her eyes. Her lips were moving slightly. Was she praying? I thought so.

At the next movement of J.E.'s hand holding the gun, we all held our breath, expecting him to... Hey, what was he doing? He was not pointing the gun at Marija any more, he turned it to himself! He opened his mouth, put the gun into it and pulled the trigger. A second later, his blood gushed out from a big hole in his head.

22.

The investigation following the tragic incident lasted a few days. The French police was cautious. It did not take them long to find out that Marija, Isabelle, who was immediately taken to hospital for treatment, and I were no terrorists or in any way dangerous to their country, but they were not so sure about Maurice and Peter Otrin. Maurice was found guilty of two burglaries. I heard later that he was given a two-year suspended sentence. Otrin had a really hard time to prove that his strange writings, the names of the leaders of different countries, trinities, places and numerous other names weren't secret codes or incitement to illicit acts. Yet even though they dropped all charges against him, they openly told him that he was to blame for Isabelle's insanity. No matter how hard he tried, he could not convince them that it was her own sick ambition and greed that drove her to that. They said from now on he was unwelcomed in their country. It meant prohibited.

The investigation revealed that J.E. was Marija's half-brother. He was a Slovenian on his father's side. A Balkan, as he used to call the Slovenians. His mother and his father, his step-father, in fact, never told him the truth. It's a pity, I think. As a child he wouldn't have suffered much if he had been told that his blood was mixed. He would have got used to it and maybe learnt to respect all people no matter what nationality they were. When he saw his mother on Marija's photo, he ran home to demand the truth from his mother. She told it and paid for it with her life. J.E. shot her on the spot then returned to the office to probably kill Marija. Why he changed his mind we will never know. He must have recognized that he would not be able to live with the truth.

Marija was sad. She was looking forward to finding her brother and she imagined a happy meeting. She felt sorry for him, yet she did not grieve. He was not the brother she would want.

Finally, we were allowed to return home.

On the plane Marija and Peter had again neighboring seats. Yet this time Peter did not behave sulkily as on the way to Paris. He was ready to explain all his prophecies to her. He confirmed his prophecies that in the year 2016 great catastrophes threaten to destroy the world, however, he comforted her that negative powers were always opposed by the positive ones and that it seemed they would be really strong in 2016.

But they had a short arguing too. Marija asked him, offended, why he had said that she had stolen his suitcase. "I have never in my life stolen anything!" she exclaimed. "No matter how hungry I was I never stole a breadcrumb! It was not nice of you to say I was a thief!"

Otrin felt uneasy. "I can't help," he defended himself. "The more I was telling you that I cannot show you my book of Prophecies, the more you pushed me. I could think of no one else to be interested in my suitcase."

In the end they parted as friends.

***

My wife was waiting for me at the airport and Kate was waiting for Peter. While holding my wife in my arms, I was looking at Kate, who had arms around Peter's neck. Our eyes met. My look was saying to her that we could have had a really nice time together if she had only wanted and hers was answering: yes, I know and that's exactly why I left. Forty years of marriage is forty years. You cannot just make them disappear.

When we were in our car, I asked my wife how was her lover. She gently patted my knee, and said giggling: "I prepared a delicious dinner for him and a warm bed. I am anxious to bring him home as soon as possible. I promise, he won't be sorry."

***

More than a year has passed since our return from Paris. I am spending most of my time in my cellar carving small figures of wood. Here and there, I murmur to myself the letters: pns, ppppns, pnnnsssss. Who knows, one day I might hit the right vibration. I could use some clairvoyance to see finally, what my wife is doing when I am not near. I also searched my name. It has an interesting perspective. I mean, I have it. It says I was born to achieve something of great importance. What that is I don't know yet. I'll know when I find the other two in my trinity and my pre-adequate. I'm working on it.

In future I plan to visit Otrin. I need some help. I don't know where he is now. He is presumably hiding somewhere in the mountains. When he returned from Paris, people from all over the world started to besiege his home. They wanted to know what their names foretold them. When he refused to tell them, one of them tried to cut off his head. Later that person told the police that Otrin's skull was going to be clairvoyant and will be able to talk. From then on Otrin and Kate are on the run. Nevertheless, I'll find them when I decide to! Pns... ppppppppns... pnnnnns...
