The First Book of Samuel - SAREJESS (chrysanthemum read aloud TXT) 📗

stopped praying. “Rather those poor bastards than me” thought Samuel as he was instructed to open the door to the first cell. Entering the cell the voice of the Gestapo captain could be heard reading out the order of execution. “Prisoner Dietrich Bonhoeffer by order of the Fuehrer you are to be executed forth with for crimes against the state. Heil Hitler! Undress this instant.” In three other cells the same actions and orders were being read out by the other officers. The pastor began to undress slowly, the beard which had grown while he was in prison, shabby and untidy. The Captain not liking the fact that the pastor was taking so long, struck him with a riding crop. “Hurry you scum” he shouted as a welt appeared on the prisoner’s bare back.

Once the prisoners had been assembled cold, naked and shivering in the passage, the Gestapo troopers made them kneel and polish their boots. One of the troopers sat on one of the prisoner’s rums and smoked a cigarette. Growing bored, the trooper stubbed the cigarette out on the body of the prisoner. The man screamed in pain, his pale skin in stark contrast to the inflamed area of his body. The infuriated guard began kicking Hans von Dohnanyi with their heavy boots. When the beating was over the prisoners were marched out to the gallows. The early spring weather had not cleared away all the snow that had fallen. Now the prisoners shivered, their skin turning blue as they stumbled along the hundred meters to the tall gallows. In the distance the smoke from the furnace could be seen climbing to the sky. “Another camp of death” thought Samuel as the men mounted the gallows naked as the day they were born. They did not hang their heads like the concentration camp expected them to, they held their heads high as proud Germans.

They began to say the Lord prayer once this was completed their hands were quickly tied and the ropes placed around their necks. A tall blond-headed German captain standing on the platform gave the order for the guards to push them off the platform. Samuel standing just below the platform thought he was going to be sick. The men fell, their feet a few meters above the ground, their bodies dancing in violent protest at the supply of oxygen been cut off to their bodies. One of the men’s bowels failed and the watching troopers were treated to a display of Samuel being showered with feces. The tongues of the dying men protruded from their mouths as the life passed from them, the blood settling to the lower extremities of their bodies When about five minutes had passed the captain told Samuel to cut the bodies down, while others made sure that they were dead.

Samuel returned to the barracks what he had just witnessed sickened him. He showered but still felt dirty. Removing a prison uniform that he had stolen a while back he dressed in it. He left the barracks, walking quickly he joined a line of concentration camp prisoners who were bound for the gas chamber....


CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR
22 November 1963 Dallas Texas USA
America was in mourning. Earlier in the day the president had been shot. Samuel stood in the lounge of the hotel and looked at the screen of the TV which had been moved there so the public could watch the unfolding events. Samuel has given up counting how many times the ABC broadcast had replayed the home movie, which had captured the terrible moment on film forever. Right now they were playing a mournful piece of music, the image of Jack Kennedy flashing across the screen.

The mood in the hotel lounge was subdued. People spoke quietly as if stunned by the enormity of what had happened the president had come to Dallas on a routine visit only to be gunned down by a lone gunman. Well that is what they were reporting, but Samuel knew better. For he had seen the glint of the rifle’s barrel a moment before the second shot had repeated across the space that separated the presidential motorcade and the man. Things had happened so fast that it was difficult to work out if there had been two or three shots. For the second shot had been fired so rapidly it was possible that the weapon could have been an assault rifle. The first shot had been fired from high overhead that much was clear. Samuel had heard it as he stood just below the school book depository building. The president’s body had jerked involuntary as the bullets had found their mark. Jackie had thrown her body across that of her husband as the motorcade speeded away towards Parkland Hospital. Later it would be reported from the hospital that the president had been declared dead. At that moment Samuel had stood mesmerized, as William Longmont whom he had last seen way back in 1870, rose from the knoll dropping the rifle back into its concealed hiding place under his coat turned and began to walk away.

For a moment longer Samuel had stood shocked at what he had just witnessed. Already the police were moving in towards the school book depository building. Others who had witnessed the shooting stood still, not knowing what to do others were weeping openly. Samuel began to follow William Longmont. He crossed the road and walked towards the slight rise, his eyes on the ground searching for the shell from the rifle. Finding it, he picked it up and dropped it into his pocket. In the distance William Longmont was beginning to walk hurriedly trying to put some distance between himself and the crime he had just committed. As Samuel followed, Longmont looked back and smiled as if satisfied with a job well done. He reached a stop light where he waited for the light to change. Samuel hurried to catch up with him. Just as he arrived at the light it changed and Longmont crossed. A police car pulled to a halt next to Samuel "Stop" shouted an officer. Samuel stopped, turned and looked at the car as two uniformed officers climbed out. In the moments that it took them to climb from the car Samuel dropped the rifle shell into a gutter and waited. "You can’t leave. Everyone that was present needs to be questioned" said one of the officers. "I saw what every body else saw" said Samuel "Some one shot the president. What an aweful day this has turned out to be" he said. "It sure is" said one of the officers. "Alright give me your name and address" said the officer. Samuel complied with their request and was allowed to go after been warned that he might be needed for further questioning. Turning back to the lights, Samuel crossed now hurriedly seeking the pavement ahead for any sign of William Longmont.

Now on the evening of that fateful day, Samuel watched everything. The late Jack Kennedy had done what was right. No one saw that he had almost brought the nation into great disrepute with the Bay of Pigs debacle, now they only remembered the good. The announcer on ABC was now speaking again. Images of a young Jack Kennedy in his Navel uniform were being flashed across the screen, the tale of his heroic deeds on a certain night in the South Seas during the second world war were being recounted.

There was a brief announcement to say that "A man Lee Harvey Oswald had been charged with the murder of the president. He had previously been questioned in connection with the murder of a policeman." "Darn Commie bastard" said one of the guests "I hope he gets the electric chair" said another. "God what is America coming to when the president can be killed on the streets of Dallas" said another. Samuel reflected “That is not something new, just under a hundred years ago another great president had been assassinated in a theater.” Most people back then had asked the same question. Now there would be a state funeral and of course many heads of state would attend and make speeches to the greatness of the man John F Kennedy. Samuel thought for a moment of the poor dead president’s family. How they would be feeling tonight the boys crying their eyes out on pillows, knowing that their father would never again play ball with them. And what of Mrs. Kennedy, what emotions now filled her mind as she spent the first night alone a widow?

CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE
2001 AD New York A bad day
Samuel had jetted in from London the previous afternoon booked into the Millennium Arms hotel, taken a quick shower and had gone to sleep. He was feeling a bit jet lagged and as a result he did not sleep well. He woke at three in the morning and ordered up some sandwiches and coffee from the kitchen. While he waited he took another shower and dressed. At 4AM he walked downstairs and bought a copy of the New York Times, nothing much happening in the stock market. At five thirty AM he tossed aside the paper and left the hotel and walked across the street to the World Trade Center.

The meeting began just after six AM the investment bankers Brodhearst and Bulkier were located on the 109th floor of the tower. They had been very accommodating in allowing for the meeting to get started so early in the day, but money talked and the proposal that Samuel had for them was a good one. The plan was to buy up a number of sites worldwide and build a hotel on each of these sites, which would be the pride of the Ferreira hotel group and the envy of many others.

The meeting was basically the first step to putting this plan into operation. Samuel had several million dollars, which he wished to spend on the project. However he did not have enough for the first year’s running costs and this was the reason he had come to New York to see the bankers, who had a reputation, which even reached into the third world and was known for helping the businessman who was wishing to expand his empire. Their criteria were strict and each person who approached the bank had to be recommended by someone who had previously been or was currently a client. Samuel had been lucky enough to be referred by a good friend in London. Now he found himself in the presence of these bankers who fired questions at him on every issue which he addressed "Would the local sultan of some backwater country want bribes for the building of the hotel? Would there be problems with the sale of Alcohol in a certain Muslim state where the use of Alcohol was band?" To all these questions he gave the answers.

By seven thirty he was already feeling tired, the results of jet lag began telling on him. He was working hard to convince these bankers that his project was sound and worthy of investment. He had spent years working towards this goal and no investment banker was going to stop him now. After all he had already lived through; this should be a pushover. Yet he found himself working hard to answer their questions, to set their minds at rest over various things, which they were unclear about. He was looking forward to the weekend, which was still a few days away for he had been invited to the country estate of one of the partners in the firm, which he had heard was out at the Hamptons, but first there was the small matter of convincing the partners of the soundness of the deal from