The Heritage Paper

Chapter 60



Kingston’s mansion in Kings Point was only five minutes away. Yet Veronica knew the likelihood of the future president keeping kidnapped children in his home the day of the election was minuscule. And the possibility of him revealing their location to her was zero. But it still seemed like their next illogical step.

Any attempt to get there by car would be near impossible. The small town was packed with heavy security, clashing supporters and protestors, and practically every news outlet in the world. So Veronica began to run toward the mansion.

Zach caught up to her and made a convincing argument that her mad dash might garner some unwanted attention from the security force. She thought of those guys outside of Sterling’s with the machine-guns, and knew he was right.

So they walked. Veronica’s fashion slavery was backfiring, as the boots were killing her feet. But she figured they might come in handy when she put her foot into Kingston’s ribs. And Mr. Head of Security, Eddie Peterson, better be wearing a cup when she got a hold of him.

As they walked, Veronica mentally untangled the branches of Ellen’s family tree; from the dark roots to the blooming of the new buds, Maggie and Jamie.

“So if Joseph Kingston was the Chosen One, then Ellen was his mother and his father was … ” she blanked. All the Nazis were melding together in her mind.

“Heinrich Müller—head of the Gestapo—captured by the CIA after the war, and later became Gus Becker,” Zach informed.

“Why couldn’t she just have told us this in the first place, instead of sending us on this crazy chase?”

“Because nobody would believe her. If she made such a claim against Kingston, it would’ve been laughed off as the ramblings of a crazy old lady. She was counting on a respected journalist getting the proof she needed, to give her claims credibility. Only then could it be stopped.”

“Don’t hurt yourself patting yourself on the back.”

“I didn’t mean me—I think she meant Maggie.”

Veronica looked surprised, as Zach continued, “I also think Ellen wasn’t just trying to stop it, but to also protect her family in the process. She didn’t want Kingston to be harmed. I think she considers him to be a victim of all of this. Just like her other children, whose heritage led to their demise.”

“If she wanted to protect her family, then why put Maggie in harm’s way?”

“I don’t know, but I get the feeling that before this day is over we’re going to find out.”

“Do you still think Kingston isn’t connected because his political views differ from Hitler’s?”

“I guess I forgot something else that Hitler said—that the great masses of people will more easily fall victim to the big lie than the small one.”

Veronica nodded. And noted for future use, that one of the first signs you’re with the wrong man is when he starts quoting Hitler. “Is there any reason I should believe you this time?”

“You shouldn’t, but I’m all you have right now, so I have desperation on my side.”

They pushed their way toward the gates. Veronica thought maybe if she could see the house, she could feel the presence of her children. She was banking on one of those special innate powers to finally kick in—the ones she thought she’d naturally obtain upon becoming a mother—but no such luck.

Zach suggested that before they start banging on the gates and demanding entrance, they regroup to come up with a more plausible plan, or at least one that would reduce their chances of being shot by security. Veronica didn’t want to leave at first, but eventually agreed.

They re-traced their steps to Zach’s Audi. Veronica’s feet felt like someone was driving knives into them, but that wasn’t even close to the sharpest pain she was feeling at the moment. They drove to the Great Neck Public Library. It was housed in a modern-looking stone building that was located a couple of miles from the Kingston mansion.

On the short ride over, they looked up Joseph Kingston on the Internet. All the information they found was in relation to his more famous son. This past Father’s Day, Kingston gave a speech at the Merchant Marine Academy in King’s Point, about his father and the qualities he believed he’d ingrained in him. For most candidates, the family rhetoric could be taken with a grain of salt, or in some cases a salt mine, but Veronica believed every word in this case, especially the parts about his father instilling loyalty into young Jim. This family had been loyal to each other for generations, never divulging their secret.

On the official Jim Kingston website there was an entire page devoted to his family. One picture stood out to Veronica. It was of a twelve-year-old Jim Kingston with his father. They were sailing on a boat in matching striped rugby shirts. The mother in Veronica was attracted to the father/son dynamic. But the cynic in her saw a politician trying to exploit the heart strings.

With little information on the Internet about the elder Kingston, and since the local newspapers only archived articles on their websites going back fifteen years, Veronica and Zach headed for the microfilm room in the library. They weren’t so much interested in information on his father’s life—they were more interested in his death.

According to a local newspaper, Joseph Kingston, 33, of Kings Point was gunned down at the local marina after getting off his boat on a September afternoon in 1972. There were no witnesses, and no arrest was ever made. Veronica winced at the gory picture of Chosen Joe, sprawled out on the pavement in a pool of his own blood.

“Notice the shirt,” Zach said. “It’s the same one he had on in the photo on the website. I think there was a witness. I think young Jim Kingston witnessed his father being murdered when they returned to shore that evening.”

“Maybe that was his fishing shirt, or his favorite. My kids would wear the same clothes for a week if I’d let them.”

“With all the father/son photos he could have used on the website, he picked one related to the boat his father was murdered by, wearing the same shirt. I think it’s a symbol.”

Veronica thought he was reaching, but nothing would surprise her at this point. Zach scrolled through the next six months’ worth of articles that followed the murder. Microfilm was a slow and tedious method of getting information, but Zach plowed ahead skillfully.

There were plenty of related articles over the remaining months of 1972, but none of them shed any light on the motive, and despite a couple of locals being brought in for questioning, no real suspect ever materialized. There were rumors in some of the gossip pages that the murder was connected to the terrorist group Black September that had been responsible for the murder of eleven Israeli athletes at the Munich Olympics, just weeks earlier. That they had targeted Joseph Kingston for marrying into a prominent Jewish family.

The marriage reference sent Zach off in another direction. “They love society stuff out here,” was all he said.

He searched until he found what he was looking for—the society section of a 1959 paper. It was coverage of the wedding of Joseph Kingston and Erika Sterling.

“I should have identified her as Erika Sterling from the photo on Ellen’s Facebook page,” Zach said. “Besides the visibility of being the mother of a presidential candidate, I had attended a couple fundraisers that she was at.”

“Stop being so hard on yourself. That wedding photo is from over fifty years ago. How were you supposed to recognize her?”

The only photos that Ellen had posted on her page were of the bride and groom. But the newspaper had complete group shots of the wedding party and assorted guests.

“In the letters Flavia showed us, Ellen mentioned that Josef’s wedding was the only time that all of the Apostles were in the same room,” Zach said, intently studying the photos. “We’re probably looking at some of the most notorious war criminals in history, including Himmler and Rudolph Hess, hidden right in plain sight. And there’s our old friend Gus Becker,” he said, pointing at the screen.

Veronica picked out Erika Sterling’s brother, Aligor. “I don’t get it. I thought he might have been responsible for Ellen and Carsten’s deaths to protect his legacy, but I never thought in a million years that he’d be part of this group. He dedicated his life to getting justice for persecuted Jews, and he was in that concentration camp with Ben.”

“Just like Ellen was,” Zach said. “And I don’t think it was a coincidence that he paid her a visit the last week of her life.”

As did Eddie. Veronica now saw those visits in a different light.

She again looked at the close-up shot of bride and groom. Veronica couldn’t shake what Ellen wrote in the letters about this wedding “merging” two Apostles families, which allowed the Apostles to associate closely without suspicion.

She now feared that the strategy for growing the family business had changed from merger to acquisition. And her children had been part of a hostile takeover.