Chapters (61)
- Prologue
- Chapter One
- Chapter Two
- Chapter Three
- Chapter Four
- Chapter Five
- Chapter Six
- Chapter Seven
- Chapter Eight
- Chapter Nine
- Chapter Ten
- Chapter Eleven
- Chapter Twelve
- Chapter Thirteen
- Chapter Fourteen
- Chapter Fifteen
- Chapter Sixteen
- Chapter Seventeen
- Chapter Eighteen
- Chapter Nineteen
- Chapter Twenty
- Chapter Twenty-One
- Chapter Twenty-Two
- Chapter Twenty-Three
- Chapter Twenty-Four
- Chapter Twenty-Five
- Chapter Twenty-Six
- Chapter Twenty-Seven
- Chapter Twenty-Eight
- Chapter Twenty-Nine
- Chapter Thirty
- Chapter Thirty-One
- Chapter Thirty-Two
- Chapter Thirty-Three
- Chapter Thirty-Four
- Chapter Thirty-Five
- Chapter Thirty-Six
- Chapter Thirty-Seven
- Chapter Thirty-Eight
- Chapter Thirty-Nine
- Chapter Forty
- Chapter Forty-One
- Chapter Forty-Two
- Chapter Forty-Three
- Chapter Forty-Four
- Chapter Forty-Five
- Chapter Forty-Six
- Chapter Forty-Seven
- Chapter Forty-Eight
- Chapter Forty-Nine
- Chapter Fifty
- Chapter Fifty-One
- Chapter Fifty-Two
- Chapter Fifty-Three
- Chapter Fifty-Four
- Chapter Fifty-Five
- Chapter Fifty-Six
- Epilogue
- Author’s Note
- Acknowledgements
- About the Author
Everyone in the office appeared hypnotised by the transmission and, as he opened the door, a four-way split came up showing shots of the Argentinian ID cards for Gerald and Ronald Franklin, alongside grainy photos of Hitler and Bormann. Although his mind was now submerged in a murky fog, he recognised the voice of Amanda Carter, the reporter who had interviewed him many times for the BBC World News. Suddenly, he found himself running through the office at breakneck speed, heading for the bank of lifts. Weirdly, he felt as if he were moving through quicksand and was conscious that all eyes in the office were glued to him. As the lift doors closed, he felt a brief moment of respite and he breathed out for the first time since seeing the TV images.
A few minutes later, he was driving out of the underground car park into the busy morning traffic. His mobile, which was resting on the dash, appeared to be having a seizure, as it manically vibrated with incoming calls and messages. He flicked it on to silent and floored the accelerator. Instinctively, his reflex thought was to call his dad, and then, a millisecond later, he remembered he couldn’t. He felt alone and desperate and needed some time to think. The unimaginable had happened and now he had to find a way to process and deal with it. He caught a glimpse of the read-out on his iPhone and saw six missed calls from his wife, along with over twenty others. He couldn’t bear going home to face the inevitable questioning, and he pictured a hunting pack of reporters and cameramen waiting outside his house to assault him. Instead, he headed for the sanctuary of his father’s mansion in Pacific Heights.
Amanda Carter’s wrap-up was perfect in every way. It was delivered in an authoritative tone, combining the sensational and grave aspects of the story.
“The man who many of us believed could be the next president of the United States is an impostor – a counterfeit candidate. From the day he was born, he was groomed by inherently evil people, obsessed with world domination and the creation of a super race. I want to end this report with the grotesque words of Adolf Hitler, a vile monster who we now know escaped justice and planned to build a new dynasty. ’The sacred mission of the German people is to assemble and preserve the most valuable racial elements and raise them to the prominent position.All who are not of a good race are chaff.’ These are the words of John Franklin’s grandfather, Adolf Hitler.”