Prey World II E-Book

Alexander Merow

• Herausgeber: BoD - Books on Demand
• Kategorie: Fantasy und Science-Fiction
• Serie: Prey World
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2024

Seitenzahl: 270

Beschreibung

Oppression and manipulation are the order of the day in the year 2030. Only one nation has been brave enough to fight for its independence - Japan. But the World Government is not willing to accept an independent state and plans a military strike. Frank and Alfred decide to join the Japanese army as volunteers. When the Global Control Force finally starts its invasion, the two friends have to face the bloody nightmare of all out war...

Leseprobe

Chapters

Sunrise

Peace is War

Volunteers for Japan

Masaru Taishi

Outbreak of War

The Way to Sapporo

All Quiet on the Sapporo Front

Leaving Hell

Grief and Doubts

Special Mission

The Jungle Calls

On the Warpath

Hukushuu

There and Back Again

New Plans

'In a few generations, maybe in a hundred or two hundred years, mankind will have died out, if we define a human being as an individual capable of thinking and inventing. Beyond doubt, a human being like this will no longer exist in the future. But there will be one exception - us!

The rest of the creatures, who will creep over the surface of this planet, will be something other than human beings in the old sense. They will still have a human body but the difference between these 'man-things' and livestock will be hardly recognizable. At this point in time, the old world will have been long gone. Nobody will remember it anymore, because the 'man-things' we will create, will no longer be able to remember any higher form of culture. All history will have been rewritten in our meaning and the only thing these 'man-things' will understand, will be the order to serve.

We will decimate earth's population to get rid of those who are nothing but useless eaters. The rest of the human pulp may survive to work for us.

Moreover, there will remain a small group of elite drudges with a rudimentary intelligence; the officers of our New World Order. We will control and form them from the womb to the tomb. And they will be our most fanatical servants, always eager to relay the pressure we put on them onto the mass of mindless peons below them. This will be the perfect completion of the Great Plan of the Elders. This will be the predicted world of milk and honey for us.'

Brother Orbitus in, 'The Holy Scriptures of the Council of the 13', Chapter XXXIII, 'The New Temple'

Sunrise

The summer of the year 2030 had begun and an unusual heat prevailed over the capital of the newly founded state of Japan. It penetrated everything down to the last corner of the endless street canyons. Tokyo was like an enormous hotplate and its citizens were suffering under the merciless sun.

The sun had risen in the Far East again, at the outermost end of the Asian continent, as the national flag of old and new Japan had always symbolized it.

Haruto Matsumoto, the President of the island state, was sitting in the garden of his mansion on the outskirts of Tokyo. He had been thinking about the future since dawn. Everything around him was flowering, insects were humming and a blue sky stretched above him. It was a wonderful day - and very hot.

But the President hardly noticed the world around him. His thoughts were stuck in the middle of a swamp of concerns and fear, and even the blue sky which was majestically expanding above his country could not change this. The President of Japan was sitting on a couch and was once more reading the foreign press reports which were pouring a gust of hatred over his country. After a while, Matsumoto put the papers away and stared angrily at the sky.

His old friend, the Japanese foreign minister Akira Mori, sat beside him and was still studying the current reports of the international media. From time to time, he murmured quietly and looked at Matsumoto. Finally, he also put the newspapers aside, straightened up and crossed his arms.

Behind the two men, the outlines of the Fujiyama, the great, old mountain, dominated the horizon. The 'Fujisan' or 'Mr. Fuji', as the Japanese called their holy mountain, seemed to mount guard over the capital.

But whether the mystic mountain could really protect the Japanese nation, was not certain.

'Will it go on forever in this manner?' Matsumoto asked his friend and adviser.

'I don't think that they will just stop this campaign tomorrow,' answered Akira Mori and took another newspaper from a table.

'This hatred is incomprehensible to me. One day, they will call me a child murderer!' said the President, full of frustration.

'They caricature you, in the 'Global Policy News', as a dung beetle that wants to throw a bomb at the world,' replied the foreign minister. 'You will have to live with this form of slander, Haruto.'

'Over 89% of the Japanese have voted for me! Yes, 89%! And these lying rats of the foreign press tell the world that I have deceived my own people!' grumbled Matsumoto.

Mori, who did not expect any other behavior from the international media, answered: 'You took great risks, when you liberated our country from the World Union. You have created an independent Japan and have given our land back to the Japanese. So be glad about your achievements. The economy is booming in your hands and our people admire you. This is the best time for Japan since decades. Just ignore those liars. You know what they are. It is their usual strategy to defame all forces of freedom on this planet.

The time will come, when even other nations will wake up and break their chains. You have shown the rest of the world that resistance is possible. Millions of men and women look up to you, because our country is their symbol of hope.'

'Nevertheless, the price is high...,' said Matsumoto.

'Of course, you are right! But even the worldwide boycott of our goods has not yet carried the fruits that the World Government was expecting,' answered Mori with an aggressive expression. 'Japan stands like a strong rock in the sea.'

'Will they start a war against us?' asked the President in an exasperated manner.

The foreign minister was silent for a moment. 'I hope not, Haruto.'

The two men stared at each other and finally turned to the window. They regarded the Fujisan, and the snowy peak of the mountain reminded them of the white beard of a wise old man. “Mr. Fuji”, the ancient father of the Japanese nation.

He had always been there, hard and steadfast - and Matsumoto wished to have only a little piece of his power. It was not easy to rule over a renegade nation, a country of dissidents. Millions of Japanese people had given him all their trust, but Matsumoto feared disappointing them. Japan was isolated and enemy troops were gathering at its borders. A peaceful future seemed to be nothing but an illusion.

The goods of the island people, formerly appreciated in all other countries, were now proscribed and rejected by the surrounding administrative sectors. The conversion of the Japanese economy to a bigger autarky was becoming increasingly difficult and laborious. Occasionally, Matsumoto thought about giving up, because his fight often seemed to be futile.

He sometimes wished to be a 'private person' again, free from all responsibility. But a private life was not possible anymore after he had awakened the hatred of the World Government and the international network behind it.

They would never forgive him, that he had led his country to independence. Since he had even abolished the interest system some weeks ago, in his eyes the root of all evil, the hateful nagging of the international press had become a true hurricane of slander.

Only his friend, Akira Mori, was able to keep his crumbling morale up, again and again. Even in times of deepest resignation and hopelessness. He was a gift of heaven, the foreign minister with a heart of steel.

The two politicians were silent and knew deep inside that the possibility of a war against their country was anything but improbable, if the economic boycott and the malicious campaign were not successful enough.

But they still continued to hope for peace. Matsumoto went into the house and sat down in his office, Mori followed him. Today, it was valid to prepare another governmental declaration in order to propose to the World Government a peaceful solution to the conflict.

However, the danger that it would fall on deaf ears again was growing with each passing day. Even if the day was as beautiful and sunny as this one.

'If they ignore our declaration again, then remember the old Romans!' said Mori.

'They will probably reject it. Everything else would be a miracle, Akira,' answered Matsumoto shaking his head.

'Then I will tell you something. A proverb of the old Romans, from a time in which they had been in sustained conflict with the other tribes in ancient Italy, Whoever wants peace, must prepare for war!'

'I just want peace and to save our people from another war. Apart from that, we wouldn't have a chance against the forces of the World Government,' returned Matsumoto, holding his head.

'You must take war into account. Don't be a dreamer!' said Mori and clapped his friend gently on the shoulder. 'I also pray for peace, but mind the worst case too.'

'The decision to become a politician was the biggest mistake of my whole life,' hissed Matsumoto desperately. He kicked against his desk.

'You brought a lot of good things to the people of Japan. Never forget that. We will also come through this crisis,' said Mori with a serious undertone.

But Haruto Matsumoto did not want to hear this. He still rued the day, when he had become involved in that bloody and dirty game called 'politics'.

At the same time, Frank Kohlhaas and Alfred Bäumer walked the streets of Vilnius, far away in Lithuania. The two men were visiting the city for the first time since their arrival in Ivas, a small village in the southeast of the country.

They enjoyed a sunny day, sauntered through the streets and hung around in cafes. Moreover, there was a lot to see in this old city, founded in the early Middle Ages. Frank and Alf preferred the old town of Vilnius with its beautiful buildings, in spite of the social decline and the omnipresent state of neglect. Old churches and slowly crumbling but still impressive house facades could be admired here. Nevertheless, the effects of the social crisis had also reached Vilnius. Many homeless and poor people were in the city center to beg the visitors for some Globes. The police presence was, in comparison to the administrative sector 'Central Europe', still small, although the streets in the inner city were meanwhile supervised by numerous video cameras.

However, Frank and Alfred had taken precautions by wearing baseball caps and sunglasses which they rarely took off. Despite of a subliminal feeling of tension, they enjoyed the day and were glad that they had come out of Ivas to see another environment.

'Look at the sticker there!' said Frank to his friend, pointing at a tattered and faded label on a lamppost in front of him.

Bäumer came nearer and took a look at the washed out sticker. He lifted his sunglasses and tried to decipher the Cyrillic letters on the label, whispering something in Russian.

'Hmmm...,' hummed the tall man then.

'Can you read it? It's time for us to learn more Russian,' said Frank, beholding the noticeable symbol in the middle of the sticker. It was a black dragon's head on a white flag with two broad red stripes.

'Thus, it is something about the Varangians, I think,' murmured Alf and scratched the back of his head musingly. 'And it is from an organization called 'Freedom Movement of the Rus'. My Russian isn't very good but I like this sticker. I don't think, that it is legal in the administrative sector 'Eastern Europe'.'

'Varangians? What is that?' asked Frank.

'They are, more or less, the ancestors of the Lithuanians and partly also of the Russians, the Belarusians and Ukrainians. The 'Rus' or 'Varangians' were Vikings who founded the realm of Kiev. They are generally known as the first Russians. It is something historical and I'm sure it is not legal,' explained Alf and smiled sardonically.

'It seems that here in Vilnius is a group of this organization, otherwise this label would not stick there,' said Frank.

'However, we know nothing about this group. I will search the Internet for more information. Maybe I can find something about this Freedom Movement of the Rus. Anyway, I like their symbol.'

Alf still tried to translate the Cyrillic text on the sticker for the next minutes. Shortly afterwards, the two men walked away and went into a pub at the end of the street.

It was a relaxing day for Frank and Alf, despite of the occasionally returning feeling of being observed. Both had missed to see another environment after many boring weeks in Ivas.

Finally, the spent three further days in Vilnius before they went back then to their home village. Meanwhile, a lot of work was waiting in Ivas, and Thorsten Wilden, the leader of community, was already expecting them.

In the evening hours of the following day the annual 'Bilderblick-Meeting' took place in the middle of the idyllic mountain countryside of Switzerland. This meeting was one of the most important political conferences on earth, where the leading persons of politics, media and economics came together to talk about the next steps to change the world in their sense.

Far away from the public, and surrounded by hundreds of policemen and GSA agents, the most powerful men of the world colluded in the luxury hotel 'Bilderblick'. The internal circle of the international network behind the World Government, the Council of the 300, met at this protected place and decided the fate of over eight billion human beings. At this meeting, the introduction of the new Scanchip, which should be implanted, was the main topic.

The new chip was proposed as the successor of the regular Scanchip. A further item on the agenda was the reaction on the incidents in Japan.

Above this committee was only the Council of the Elders, also called 'Council of the 13'. The absolute secret board of the new world system.

Lord Nathaniel Beaconshill, a powerful media mogul, raised his hand after a long debate to say something to the Japanese question, 'My brothers, it is time for an example because the outrageous actions of Matsumoto mock our global order in an unbearable way. If we don't take drastic measures soon, Japan will probably become a model for other states. I finally demand a decision of the Elders, concerning the Japanese problem.'

A murmur went through the crowd of the gentlemen, dressed in noble business suits. Some of them harrumphed, others whispered or shouted through the spacious hall. Then silence prevailed again.

'In principle, you are right, brother. However, the attacks of the media, controlled by us, were not as successful as we have expected. I personally counted on the fact that the Japanese population could be more easily divided in different parts. But our tactic to instigate strife should be reconsidered. Matsumoto's popularity is still very high and the opposition on the island works lamely and is not belligerent at all,' answered Steve Basler, the chairman of the 'Basler Trust Company' from Seattle.

Jeff Dornberger asked for the word and hectically waved his hand which was adorned with several golden rings.

'I think that there are two possibilities for us. One is to bring the enemy to its knees by the various methods of slander, or on the other hand, if this should not be effective, just to ignore him at first. At present, even the most cunning lies fail against Matsumoto. His rule is still stable, as the internal studies of our GSA agents prove, and I'm afraid to remark that we can only bring Japan back to submission with a military strike.'

'I'm right there with you!' shouted Dr. Cyrus Newton, the chairman of the pharmaceutical company 'GPHP', banging his fist on the wooden table in front of him.

Suddenly, Lucius Brownstone, who was one of the envoys of the Council of the Elders, stood up from his place and asked for silence. He stared at his fellows for a while, then he scrutinized the look of his black suit.

'My dear brothers, the instructions of the highest council are clear. I don't wish any debates about that anymore because the Elders have already come to a decision. An example will be made on Japan. An example, the world will remember for many years. The attempt to question our rule over this world must evoke a harsh and cruel punishment, but we must proceed mindfully in order to make no mistakes.

As I have already said, the instructions of the Council of the Elders are clear: War!

The lasting destruction of Japan as a nation and the following destruction of its people and its culture!'

'This will be a lot of work for us, brother Brownstone. How can we reach this goal?' asked one of the men.

'The council wants an invasion of Japan - from several sides. A nuclear strike is not planned yet, because we still have to preserve our image as benefactors. The introduction of the new implantation Scanchip, this very important step towards the total control of the masses, may not be endangered by inhumanly appearing nuclear attacks, especially on Japan. We must still appear as philanthropists, liberators and true humanists. In addition, Matsumoto has nuclear weapons too. A nuclear conflict is also not advisable from this point of view. No, for the highest council the conventional warfare seems to be the best method. And I speak for council.'

Some of the gentlemen looked confused. Others asked for the role of the media, concerning the preparations for war against the renegade island state.

'Shall we just stop the hate campaign against the Japanese now?' Sergej Abramovich, an gray-haired oligarch from Russia, wanted to know.

Brownstone responded, 'Yes, no more reports about Japan! At first, we must prepare the invasion. This country and also Matsumoto himself may be ignored until we are ready to strike back. Then, as the Council of the Elders has decided, shortly before the war starts, all our media will eat Japan alive. We will make Matsumoto responsible for a devastating attack with biological weapons in the East of China. In this context, he will be branded as a mass murderer and insane warmonger. Furthermore, that incident will awake the old hostility between Japan and China again, because we have the plan to recruit masses of Chinese soldiers for the invasion army of the GCF. Finally, the whole usual talk about world peace and human rights will follow from our side.'

Again the gentlemen were shaken by a loud murmur and many of them showed their enthusiastic agreement to this plan. Only a few members of the council remained skeptical, but they had not the position to contradict a decision of the Elders.

'What will we do after our victory?' a brother shouted loudly.

'The Japanese people will be partly resettled to other regions of Asia. Furthermore, their traditional culture will be decomposed and eliminated in the long term,' explained Brownstone who resolutely stared at his fellows.

'So the media will be silent for a while?' asked Leonard Bourger from Marseille.

'Yes! No more attention for Matsumoto until we are ready to start the campaign. The war against Japan will start in exactly one year' replied Brownstone and finally sat down.

Thereupon, the men discussed another topic, a much more important one: The coming registration of earth's population with the new implanted Scanchips.

At first, the North American continent should be seized by this measure. And the powerful gentlemen still planned further steps for the absolute control of mankind but they were heard by nobody, except for themselves. Everything, that was discussed at this meeting, did not leave the walls of the luxury hotel 'Bilderblick'. The eight billion human beings on earth were still living their simple lives, while this small group of men was deciding their fate.

Peace is War

Somewhere under the roof of the ramshackle house was a bird-nest, Frank was certain. Today, he had already been woken up once more by an excited fluttering and a loud twittering in front of his window. Kohlhaas rolled scolding over the mattress and pulled the bed sheet over his head.

'Bloody hell! The noise drives me insane!' he groaned and crept out of his bed.

Alf was already sitting in the kitchen and was drinking a coffee. Meanwhile, he had also noticed the never ending chirping that was robbing the two men's sleep since days. 'They are really loud! Maybe these birds are breeding,' muttered Alf.

'Yes, but where is the bird-nest?' asked Frank who was still bleary. He stretched himself, trudged to the coffee pot and hoped that a sip would finally help him to wake up. Frank yawned loudly as he sunk down on a chair beside the kitchen table.

'We must fetch the long ladder from the shed to search the roof. The birds must be somewhere there,' suggested Alf and rubbed his eyes.

Another yawning followed and Frank nodded approvingly. After the breakfast, the two men left the kitchen, went to the old shed next to their house and pulled a ladder out of a huge pile of clutter.

'Puh!' gasped Frank and walked towards to the house with the ladder under his arm. 'The chirping comes from the corner up there, under the roof.'

'Let me look for the birds!' said Alfred, he pushed his friend to the side and climbed up the ladder.

When he reached the roof and looked over the rotten bricks, it became clear that they had to repair a lot this summer. But now it was valid to find the feathered guests at first. A bird with beautiful black and white feathers flew out of a hole in the wall, almost colliding with Alf's head. Then it took course downwards. Bäumer looked baffled at the small animal and began to smile.

'These birds are probably swallows!' he shouted at Frank. 'I have found their nest. It's here!'

Alf heard an excited twitter between some bars and finally recognized five tiny, yellow balls. Meanwhile, the birds reacted on him with an even louder noise. Alf pushed the ladder a bit to the left and climbed again upward to have a better sight.

When Alfred's face with its dark beard and the bright eyes appeared in front of the nest, the little chicks answered with a panicky: 'Beep! Beep! Beep!'

The tall man hummed and still thought about removing the bird-nest, because the constant noise tortured him since more than a week. But the five little creatures with their small brown eyes and the pretty, reddish fluff at the necks finally aroused his compassion.

If Alf would have removed the bird-nest from the roof, the little animals would have had no chance to survive. And to bring it to another place was no good idea.

'What's up now?' shouted Frank from below.

'Nothing! Let's leave our little friends alone. I think we can familiarize with their noise,' said Alfred.

'You don't want to remove the bird-nest?' asked Frank and scratched his head.

'No! I won't touch these birds. But we have to repair a lot of bricks in the next days!' replied Alfred and finally came down the ladder.

Kohlhaas grinned. 'Ha, you have such a big heart, Alfi! This is so cute.'

'Schnauze!' growled Bäumer crustily and carried the ladder back to the shed. 'The birds don't disturb me anymore. That's all!'

'Nevertheless, yesterday you were still complaining the whole day!' teased him Frank.

'However...,' grumbled Bäumer. He walked away towards the house.

Frank smiled and thought briefly about removing the bird-nest himself. But if Alf was not disturbed anymore, he would also learn to ignore the noise.

'Okay, let's go!' he said, locked the shed and followed his friend.

The rest of the week passed by - with house and garden work. HOK, the computer specialist of the village, visited them once and told them about his newest programming activities. As usual, Frank and Alf hardly understood a word of his explanations and technical terms. HOK had edited their Scanchips to increase the safety a while ago. Nevertheless, the two men had rented a car with their old Scanchips before the assassination of Wechsler in Paris.

Therefore, it was time for some 'new identities', as HOK explained. The concerns about investigations of the GSA, the international secret service, was still above their heads like the sword of Damocles.

So HOK finally replaced the old Scanchips and gave his comrades two new identity cards. Frank Kohlhaas became a construction worker from Berne, called Eduard Rietli, and Alfred Bäumer exchanged his old identity with Peter van Hochvaal from Belgium.

'Safer is better!' meant HOK. And this principle was more important than ever in a time of total surveillance.

Meanwhile, both men had also made some investigations on the Internet, concerning the 'Freedom Movement of the Rus'.

They had found a few forbidden homepages which were officially not callable, and tried to read the Cyrillic texts with HOK's assistance. But the Russian writings were still too difficult for the three Germans, what meant that Wilden, whose Russian was much better, had to help out.

'Well, this organization seems to have held a secret meeting with hundreds of people in the underground, in Minsk. However, this is really dangerous and would be impossible in 'Central Europe'. Look at this, they report about some of their actions; handing out leaflets, spreading stickers, spraying on walls and so on. Even a small demonstration that has dissolved itself after twenty minutes! Ha, ha!

Here is something about 'descendants of the Rus' and 'social revolution'. This means 'Down with the global tyranny!' and 'Russia is the land of the Russians'.

These guys can be glad that the authorities in Eastern Europe are so underpaid and listless. In Western Europe actions like this would be impossible,' said Wilden, studying the texts on the forbidden website.

Then HOK searched for more web pages of the group and finally found a reward poster of the Belarusian police. The authorities were looking for a man called Artur Tschistokjow, the leader of the organization. 'Here they say that this man has obviously founded cells of his group in the Baltic countries, in Belarus and in the western part of Russia. The police assumes that he has changed his name and is living in Minsk now,' said Wilden, the former businessman from Nordrhein-Westfalen in Germany.

'In our old homeland, they would catch this guy in just a week,' said Frank and tried to translate the text at the bottom of the reward poster by himself.

'We should take some lessons in Russian,' meant Alf, looking at Wilden. The older gentleman was pleased about the fact that his knowledge was demanded once more. He smiled proudly.

'No problem. A good knowledge of the Russian language is absolutely indispensable in the long term if you live here.'

The two men accepted the offer and Frank was quite astonished about his gift to learn foreign languages. Alf, in contrast, seemed to be not as talented as his friend, and Wilden, who sometimes behaved like an old schoolteacher, scolded Bäumer several times.

Also Julia Wilden, the beautiful daughter of the village boss, had a lot of fun watching the two men suffering under the strict command of her father. Often she observed the Russian lessons for hours - always with a sarcastic smile.

Both men even got homework from Wilden, who always examined the training success of his students with increasing meticulousness on the following day. Alf was reprimanded again and again, while Frank become something like 'teacher's pet'. After a hard time of learning, Alf finally started to hate the Russian lessons.

The months passed and one day the summer had finally vanished. Now, the leaves of the trees around Ivas slowly changed their color and the days became shorter. Frank knew that the other villagers still admired him, because of the bold operation in Paris. They liked him, he was sure about that. And above all, Julia Wilden, the daughter of the village boss, who had once met him with so much distrust, seemed to cast an eye at him.

After the Russian lessons with her father, in which Frank could score more and more, she often accompanied Alf and him to their house, talking about this and that.

Her eyes were focused on him, as Frank believed. But he still was not audacious enough to start his own 'great offensive'. Wilden's daughter always remained inapproachable and aloof. Meanwhile, she was a very good friend, without any doubt, but Frank was not satisfied with that. To show feelings, apart from hate, he had somehow forgotten since his time in „Big Eye“. So he still behaved gawky, never knowing what to do next in her presence.

The nightmares and dark visions, that had occasionally afflicted him in his sleep, were currently not very frequent, and Frank was glad about that. He had no more panic attacks, as it had been one year ago. Meanwhile, he rarely startled up before he fell asleep, and 'Mr. Madness', his imaginary cellmate, was banned from his mind. But his grown immunity had demanded a high price.

'I can't feel any longer,' thought Frank. 'I can't cry anymore, and I also can't be happy like a normal human being. I can only exist.'

Perhaps, the genuine feelings would return one day. They were just locked up behind a large concrete wall at the end of his head.

Before the winter came over Lithuania the emotions seemed to have buried themselves in a hole deep in Frank's mind. Now, they slowly came back, even with a power Frank had never expected. Unfortunately, the positive feelings had not the major part in this outbreak, because the darker the days became, the darker it was in Frank's brain.

Depressions started to torture him and he was scared to fall asleep again. The glaring, cruel light of the holo cell returned in his dreams, allied with the computerized woman's voice from the loudspeaker.

Sometimes, Frank dreamed that somebody had pushed him into a brightly illuminated hole without a ground. The fall lasted eternally and he rushed faster and faster downwards - but never reached the bottom.

His murdered father and his dead sister seemed to send him messages from the other side, as Frank sometimes thought. They spoke to him, in the lightless hours of the winter nights, reminding him to take care of Nico. From time to time, his little nephew appeared as well, telling him that they had surgically removed his heart. Then he held the bloody, pulsating muscle in his hand and said, „If you don't believe me, uncle Frank, I can show you what they have done to me!“

These visions were an agony and Frank had the feeling that there was nobody he could talk about this. Alf had already become a good friend, although he was not the right interlocutor for topics like this. His mother would have been one but she had already left this world a long time ago.

Meanwhile, Frank could hardly remember her face and her voice. If he woke up at night and looked around in his dark bedroom, he cursed the causers of his mental horrors. Sometimes Frank thought about calling the educational institution, in which his nephew Nico probably was. But this was connected with a very high risk. What should he say to the responsible persons? He was a wanted person and did not exist anymore as a 'normal' citizen.

Furthermore, only family members had the right to ask for Nico, but the little boy had no more 'official' relatives. Anyway, they would lie to him, Frank said to himself. So it was senseless to call the orphanage. Wilden, the often paternally appearing leader of Ivas, whom Frank viewed as mentor and friend, was not the right person to talk about psychological problems and inner fears. The gray-haired man was just too sober for such things.

Frank had also a good relationship to his daughter, but he avoided to talk with her about any emotional things. She took him for a weird guy with a heart of iron, and that was the image Frank wanted to preserve. Hence, he tried to hide the dark marks on his soul from her attention and was internally ashamed, because of his psychological flaws.