While Frank and Alf were waiting for the attack in their hiding place, and the minutes passed in a state of nervousness and tension, Paris resembled an anthill at the surface. The opening speech of Leon-Jack Wechsler, governor of the administrative sector „Central Europe“, should start at 13.00 o'clock. The streets of the metropolis were already now, around 11,00 o'clock, perfectly overcrowded.
Huge masses of people, roughly about two millions, clustered towards the “Avenue of Humanity” and it came to the first clashes between the visitors of the event and the police in the early morning hours.
In the gray of dawn, bloody riots had broken out with numerous casualties and many deads. In many parts of the metropolis the violence still ruled the streets, particularly in the Arabic ghettos.
Over 40 GP-Policemen and hundreds of Arabs had already been killed. Last night, French patriots had fixed some enormous transparencies with slogans like „France is the country of the Frenchmen!“ or „Freedom for France! Down with the World Government!” at several big buildings in the inner city.
Some activists had been caught by the police, three young Frenchmen had even been shot. In the north of Paris, young Arabs had tried to penetrate into some suburbs, which were inhabited by Frenchmen. Here they had burned cars or had broken into houses. Finally they had encountered some armed Frenchmen and the police. Over 200 people had been killed in that street fight. An illegal demonstration of the “Islamic Federation” in the opposite part of the former capital of France against the policy of the World Government in the Middle East, had likewise ended with violent outbursts. Over thirty thousand Muslims had come together to protest and could only be dispersed by the security forces, after they had attacked the crowd with tanks.
Hugo and Baptiste, the Frenchmen, who had visited the meeting in Ivas at that time, were already active in the boiling metropolis since weeks.
Their political group had distributed tens of thousands of illegal leaflets in the whole city, in which they called up the population to resist the foreign rulers and to fight against the World Government. Some activists who had been caught by the police, were never seen again.
Furthermore, they let countless little pieces of paper with rebellious calls rain down on the shopping streets, from the roofs of some multistory buildings.
They had uploaded a lot of forbidden webpages on the Internet and had even established a secret radio channel which daily sent informations. Apart from this, the freedom fighters had sprayed some oppositional slogans on the entrance door of the “Temple of Tolerance”. The police and the GSA were still investigating feverishly. When the police had located the secret radio station in the end, most of the French acivists had made it to esape them.
This form of resistance was also not less dangerous than a bombing because prison or even death was waiting for people who were classified by the GSA as “incurable politically incorrect”.
Therefore, not only Frank and Alfred risked their lifes down in the tunnel system below the city, in the battle against the global dictatorship. Even at the surface, many Frenchmen, above all the young people, stretched their heads that far out of the swamp of anxiety and anonymity that the police could cut them off. This so called “festival” would become bloody. Even without a bomb strike. After the opening speech, the people would only see on video, the military parades of the GCF troops would begin. Moreover, masses of journalists infested the city like a swarm of grasshoppers and were eager to spread the ideology of the New World Order. A happy world full of peace and harmony, wearing a long cloak - made of lies.
As the „One-World-Song” resounded out of the loudspeakers that had been situated everywhere along the “Avenue of Humanity”, only a small part of the giant crowd sang along. This was disappoiting for the GSA agents who meticulously filmed the people.
Sometimes, even bottles and stones were thrown in the direction of the loudspeakers and screens which showed no pictures yet. Here, the GP officials took drastic measures and pulled every molester out of the crowd. Who was caught disappeared in a police vehicle.
So many of the two million spectators were already upset, although the festival had not been opened by Wechsler so far. Apart from that, many Parisians also just holed up in their houses, hoping that this day would pass as quickly as possible. In spite of the publicity campaign of the media which stylized the “Festival of the New World” to a new climax of human development.
The population of the sector „Central Europe“ had been forced to pay still higher tributes and taxes in the last months and the social misery was growing more and more. Therefore, the people had not very much of this „Festival of the New World”, and all the propaganda around it. The racial tensions also continued to extend. If one drove through some parts of Paris, it seemed that France was close to civil war. But all this was a part of the policy of the new rulers, a small piece of their worldwide opus of decay.
The screaming crowd above their heads could easily be heard, down in the canalization. It roared and yelled and sang and stamped. Frank and Alfred seemed to become only more nervous, because of this din. Time was running out fast, and soon the critical moment would come. The governor was on his way to the inner city of Paris. Now it was vital to pay attention. All or nothing!
„What`s the time, Bäumer?”, asked Frank with an uncertain flickering in his eyes, while the „One-World-Song” was sung above him.
„Three minutes past twelve. Still about an hour...“, answered Alf and extinguished the campfire.
„Okay, let`s go!“, said Kohlhaas, nervously fumbling on his cap.
They checked their equipment again and Frank stroked the explosive in the blue bags.
„For you father, for you sister!“, he silently murmured and stared into the dark tunnel.
Both took their heavy luggage and loaded their weapons. Then they went to the hole to enter the canalization. Each step was arduous now and was accompanied by a wildly pounding heart. The palms of the two men filled with tiny rills of sweat, while the ubiquitous darkness stared at them still more malicious than ever before.
Their flashlights shone the way and they moved through the sewer corridors like creeping cats on the hunt. The larger halls were empty now.
All attention, probably even those of the workers of the public utilities, was given to the enormous spectacle at the surface. What Frank and Alfred did not know was that all employees of the city of Paris were allowed to stay away from work if they visited the ceremonies. Both rebels walked forward through the tunnels on quiet soles. They had soon reached the passage, where that GP policeman had nearly found them. Their hearts pounded like crazy steam hammers and Frank believed to be able to hear the echo of his pulse in the tunnel.
“At 13.00 o`clock, Wechsler will start his speech. When it begins, I put the time fuse of the bomb on ten minutes. This should be enough, to get our asses out of the danger zone!”, explained Alf.
“Okay!”, said Frank who could hardly bear the tension.
Bäumer carefully prepared the bomb and Frank just watched him.
Meanwhile, the black limousine of the governor had stopped in front of the “Temple of Tolerance” and a finely clothed chauffeur opened the door. A swarm of policemen immediately sourrounded the big, flashy vehicle. Shortly afterwards, a black varnish shoe appeared beneath the car door. Then the elegant rest followed. Leon-Jack Wechsler had arrived.
Yesterday he had still been in London and had delivered a speech in front of the members of the Grand Lodge, what belonged to his tasks as its second Grand Master.
Now he was in Paris, in order to open the “Festival of the New World” solemnly. London, the best supervised city on the planet, except for New York and Washington, was Wechsler`s adoptive home. Here, his ancestors had already made lucrative bank businesses. Then a part of his family had emigrated to Chicago and in the end he had come back to the former capital of England.
The governor smiled and shook the hands of some subordinated dignitaries. These
bowed to the dark-haired man with the noticeable round glasses. The politician was fortyish and had already made a great career. Originally coming from the bank business, he had also been active in numerous media concerns and energy companies. Wechsler was a powerful man and loyal to his education, he despised values like honesty or scruple. If it was necessary, also lie and deceitfulness did it, because only the aim was important and its name was “might”.
The polititian combed his hair once again and looked around with cunning eyes. The crowd was far away from him and he had no reference to those people and he also did not want that. He did, what had to be done, and said, what had to be said, so that the new order could live. The plan to create this new world, had been prepared long beforehand, and it tolerated no deviations or delays.
Leon-Jack Wechsler was a cogwheel in this cruel machine, but he was an important cogwheel. The politician knew that, and everyone who knew him, knew that too. And his servants did well not to annoy him.
The clock was ticking and would never stop. As the great wheel of history always revolved – overrunning those who were not able to follow the time.
It was 12.58 o`clock on this historical day, which celebrated the New World Order. Governor Leon-Jack Wechsler grinned like a Pharisee and slowly walked up the stairs to the speaker`s desk. Numerous security men encircled the stage. Most of them just looked disinterestedly around. They seemed to suspect nothing evil.
All these security men were just too many and were to well armed that someone seriously would have ventured to attack them. Tanks, regiments of GP policemen, GCF soldiers and still more best equipped Riot Control Squads had been congregated here, to force the people to love this new world. Moreover, the dreaded Skydragons were lurking in the sky, and they were always able to smash the masses like a hammer. It was suicide to challenge this power.
Leon-Jack Wechsler stroked his black business suit again, looking at the spectators in the distance. Many of them probably hated him deep inside, but this was rather amusing than dangerous, from his point of view. The “herd of animals”, as he and his Fellows called the rest of mankind, would remain impotent and enslaved forever.
“I welcome you! People of our One-World!
I am so endlessly happy, to be allowed, to welcome you here today. So many people have come to our beautiful Paris. We have invited you to this “Festival of the New World”, to a great celebration of humanitarianism! And all of you have come, full of joy and expectation!”
The crowd made some noise and Wechsler looked at the herd with a cynical smile...
Red Moon