The Heritage Paper

Chapter 72



With Aligor Sterling wheeling beside him, President-Elect Jim Kingston made the first stop on his victory tour. Starlight Roof was located on the eighteenth floor of the Waldorf, where a grand party was being held in his honor.

In the 1930s and 40s, the Rooftop was regarded as the world’s most glamorous nightclub. It epitomized the elite, and its excessive parties were the stuff of legend. At the same time, across the ocean, the Reich had risen to become the ruling elite of Europe, and they ruled with the same decadence and glamour. This party was a sign that what was once great could rise again.

But as Kingston walked into the luxurious rotunda, he felt a threatening cloud hovering over him. Like a thunderstorm appearing on a perfect summer day. This should be a night to celebrate the crowning achievement of the Apostles, but when he looked up at the gilded ceiling he could have sworn he saw that dark cloud of doubt.

The partygoers didn’t share his reservations. Wine was flowing and a band was belting out tunes from the Big Band era. Kingston almost expected to see Sinatra crooning on the stage. He pressed the flesh for over an hour with many of his biggest supporters, and began to regain his bearings. Before leaving, he took the microphone and to overwhelming cheers, announced that tonight marked, “A return of the good old days!” Little did they know how true that statement would be.

As Kingston left the room, he noted the twinkling of the stars through the two-story high windows that peered out on the glittering Manhattan skyline. It was like the heavens were sending their approval. And the feeling of impending doom waned.

Surrounded by his security team, Kingston and Sterling were taken down to the third floor, where they arrived at an ornate, silver corridor that passed under an arched ceiling. His mother, Erika Sterling-Kingston, met him there. Thaddeus. He greeted the still attractive, seventy-four-year-old with a deep hug and a peck on the cheek. She raised him for this day. It was a powerful moment between mother and son, but Kingston couldn’t help feel that the picture was incomplete without his father by her side.

When they broke their embrace, Kingston hooked arms with her and walked her down the corridor. She whispered into his ear her hope that the next time he walked down an aisle it would be at his wedding. She was never a fan of his bachelor life, and felt it was now time to find his First Lady. Marriage and family meant everything to her, although she had never remarried herself after his father was killed.

Onlookers clapped for Kingston, echoing throughout the hallway. A grand piano belted out “Hail to the Chief.” He felt at peace again—the thunderstorm had passed.

The ovations grew louder as they approached the Grand Ballroom, where he’d give his acceptance speech. But before entering, he needed a moment alone with Aligor.

“Yes, Mr. President,” Sterling said with a big grin, liking the sound of the new title.

Kingston didn’t share his jovial mood. There was still much work to do. “I want the children picked up once they leave here and brought back to the house.”

“What about the mother?”

“You are going to need to silence her, and her reporter friend.”

“Don’t you think that will be dangerous, especially after the children were seen at the mansion?”

“I think it will be a love triangle, which will help us solve our Edward Peterson problem. He was in love with his dead brother’s wife, but when she chose Zach Chester, he couldn’t bear it and it led to a murder-suicide.”

Sterling looked like he’d seen a ghost.

“I’m sorry, Aligor, that was insensitive of me. I’d forgotten about your parents.”

“No offense taken, Mr. President. It was a long time ago. What about the children?”

“In the short term, we will put out word that they were guests at the mansion. Maggie invited you to her Heritage Paper project, where she informed you what a big fan she was of mine. So I made her dream come true by allowing her to visit her hero. Her devotion to me is well documented. And make it clear that they were just playing on the lawn, security was trying to stop them because they were worried about their safety. The guns weren’t real. Obviously they didn’t view me as harmful, as they sought me out tonight at the hotel.”

“And in the long term?”

“In the wake of their mother’s death, we will move to adopt the children. Maggie might resist initially, but she’ll come around. Jamie will not be a problem.”

“That would be great PR, but might be complicated. Veronica Peterson’s mother and family members are very much alive, and might seek custody.”

He patted Sterling on the back with a big smile. “We’re the kings of the world, Aligor. We can do anything we want. I’m confident that you’ll figure out how to make it happen.”

Sterling smiled back, looking relieved. “I was concerned that you might buy the nonsense your grandmother was saying on that video.”

“Like I said, she obviously was suffering from a form of dementia.”

“What about Youkelstein? We tracked him to Beth Israel Hospital—he was admitted for a gunshot wound.”

“Let him be—just make sure the bullet can’t be traced back to our men. Nobody will believe the old conspiracy theorist, anyway. He has been screaming about escaped Nazis and the Fourth Reich for decades. He has no credibility, so let’s not be the ones to give him any.”

With business settled, Kingston entered the Grand Ballroom. It was four stories high and surrounded by two tiers of boxes like an Old World opera house. The normal seating capacity was fifteen hundred, but tonight well over two thousand had jammed in to celebrate the election of Jim Kingston.

Sterling wheeled onto the stage and announced into a microphone, “Without further ado, I’d like to introduce to you my nephew, my friend, and my hero—the President of the United States, Jim Kingston!”

Kingston leaped onto the stage, where he was met by Senator Langor. The Vice President-Elect knew nothing of the Apostles, or ever would. He was put on the ticket because they felt his presence would guarantee winning Florida, which most experts thought would be the key swing vote. Although, it turned out to be an unnecessary boulder in a historical landslide.

Kingston and Langor clasped hands and raised them over their heads as balloons began raining down from the ceiling. Their campaign song belted from the speakers—Springsteen’s “The Rising.” Never could lyrics be more appropriate.

When the room settled, Kingston stepped to the microphone. He looked out at the faceless crowd and felt the irony. The Grand Ballroom at the Waldorf was built as a re-creation of the court theater in Versailles. The same city where the treaty was signed in that train car. A document that attempted to destroy Germany forever.

But as he was about to reclaim their rightful spot, and do so in the same manner that it was taken from them—by sabotaging the society from within—he couldn’t shake Ellen’s words.