"We shall not capitulate … no, never," Hitler exclaimed. "we may be destroyed, but if we are, we shall drag a world with us…a world in flames." He hummed a characteristic motif from the Götterdämmerung-( Rauschning, 5. Statement recorded by Rausching in 1932, before Hitler came into power.)

Isaiah knocked twice on the door leading to the professor’s office, after having found his way there to the Department of History easily with a pretty detailed map of Eaeshore College.

On the whole, Eaeshore College seemed to be on the verge of crumbling down anytime. It had only ten blocks and an ill-maintained Sports’ Stadium. The walls might have once been clinically white but after years of neglect, they had adopted a sick, grey pallor.

Owing to the town which was resolved to remain where it was, Eaeshore College was not given much room to grow. There were only the Arts and Social Sciences faculty, the Science Faulty and the Business Faculty in Eaeshore College. For other degree programs, the locals would have to set their sights further, though not by much since the nearby Bayport boasted a rather reputable University with extremely comprehensive academic programs.

Alvin Skyner had thanked his professor at the acknowledgement section of his Thesis. From that section, Isaiah thought Alvin was perhaps the careless sort of person. His acknowledgement section had only been slightly more than four lines. Isaiah remembered his own thesis fondly. His accreditations had covered a whole page and then some.

He would never want to through all that arduous research ever again. The hours he spent like a hermit locked in his dorm room seated in front of the computer, eyes teary and fingers numbed were still lucid memories in his mind. Recalling, he could almost feel the dull ache at his fingertips from banging excessively on the keyboard. In his most humble opinion, writing an honors thesis was like an experience that should only be endured through once. The process was extremely wearisome but the result was bittersweet- especially when the completed work was in his hand, bounded with his name proudly emblazoned on the cover, ready to be handed up to the professor.

A copy of his Thesis was still somewhere in the library of NYU.

His jet-black hair was now shadowed over by a dark-brown wig made up of wavy, stringy strands. Blue contacts were fitted into his eyes and he was rather uncomfortable wearing his new ‘face’. Unlike Elijah, he had not gotten his brows plucked. There was no need to. People recognized him by his melancholic green eyes and the harsh color of his hair which was a stark contrast to the baby-soft quality of it- effortlessly noticeable when he did not gel his hair up.

With only two changes, he was already mostly unrecognizable in his black Quicksilver T-shirt and a pair of dark blue jeans

Lynn did not join the two brothers. She was back in Tech, busy hacking into the server of the message board- performing her usual clandestine operations in the anonymous world of the Internet.

In actuality, the Internet was not so anonymous. It gave that illusion, but in reality, it one of the best way to intrude into a person’s privacy. Via it, anyone could sift out other people’s deepest, darkest desires, just by monitoring the sites that they paid regular visits to, infecting their computer with insidious viruses and Trojans. Control their machines, turning computers into slaves for a cloaked Master hiding behind firewalls.

Information could be bought and sold easily. Details about anyone and anything at all could be obtained, if one knew how.

The Network might like to think they were experts in such operations but the constant wars with independent hackers with IQs surpassing Einstein’s were very soon tearing down that wall of arrogance and confidence.

Isaiah was in another of his melancholic moods, thanks to his brother. The excuse that Elijah had a horrible childhood sounded increasingly grating to his ears. Isaiah could not remember any incident from his own that could make him ecstatically happy but he did try.

Isaiah silently reproached himself. Guilt and remorse was becoming a common feeling of late. Every little wrong that he had done re-emerged from the deep recesses of his memory to haunt him, echoes of the past floated by.

Hollow echoes resonated- echoes of Lijah’s cries.

He wondered if Elijah heard those echoes too.

Elijah could never guess the damage done by his words and indifference on Isaiah. But what could Isaiah do? Elijah’s soul was his own. Isaiah could try but in the end, it was up to Elijah to decide if he would allow himself be Lijah again.

Isaiah let out a scornful laughter at himself. There he was, a Network Special Agent working undercover. He had to concentrate on his case and maybe wait for some sense or visions.

And all he could think of was his brother’s ill-treatment towards him the morning, blowing lukewarm and then frost again. He felt like he was a terrible agent. Without his gifts, he was nothing more than a layman on the streets, probably still stuck in the NYPD as a normal investigator.

A terrible agent who was distracted by personal problems while investigating.

Perhaps he had always known that he could not cut it, no matter what Gray thought of him. Gray thought highly of him- most of the pride came from Gray’s self-perceived aspect of him of which Isaiah was afraid one day Gray would find that he had in his hands the wrong analysis of Isaiah Raily. Even Lynn who might be able to read him like a book, failed to read between the lines most of the time.

Even Isaiah missed those underlying facets of himself. Perhaps it would take a person a lifetime to tear away the different, kaleidoscopic layers to reach the naked soul within.

He had been letting his thoughts run idle for a long time. The professor had not answered the knock. Looking at the professor’s schedule which Lynn had dug out for them, and the plague on the door, he was pretty sure the professor was in. The light in the room was switched on. A faint alternating shadow could be seen from the gap between the underside of the door and the floor- the ceiling fan must be switched on as well.

He was about to knock again when the door opened causing him to almost hit the professor’s shiny forehead.

The professor was not much older than himself.

"I’m sorry for the delay. What can I do for you?" A tenor voice greeted him good-naturedly, accompanied by flashing eyes.

Isaiah cleared his throat. Time to act. Thespians who could not make it in Hollywood might want to try their luck at being secret agents. The trick was to be able to be very ‘ordinary’- not to stand up like a sore thumb, not to even leave an impression while gathering much information in the process.

Gray Man with his blandness and ability to dissolve into the concrete walls of the city while looking like a normal bloke in the suburbs was a master at undercover operations.

"Ahm Professor Carter, I’m Dennis Hutchinson. I’m a third year student, majoring in History and I’m actually thinking of doing my thesis which will be about the linkage between major faith and political ideas throughout the years- the grey area between. I had read one of your honors student work about the Cult of Hitler and I thought it to be a fantastic piece of research- rather like what I’m trying to expound further upon…"

After a brief pause following Isaiah’s long request which trailed off like the trickle of water from an already closed tap into tiny, rapid droplets, the professor grinned like a Cheshire cat. His light hazel eyes sparkled with intelligence and wits. Decked fully in back, he was perhaps trying to add the allure of mystery to his persona. He was handsome, with that devilish flair that was instantaneously recognizable and a well-kept goatee. Though standing a head shorter than Isaiah, he seemed to be able to command more presence had the two of them been real actors on an empty stage.

"Oh yes, come on in." Professor Carter gestured at his cluttered office and motioned for Isaiah to follow him. Isaiah sauntered in, trying to look relax and comfortable.

Like he belonged to Eaeshore College.

Carter’s table was piled up with papers and invitations to various functions, a common privilege of professors. He seemed helpful and genial and Isaiah was a little relieved. He had to deal with scrooges during his college years and they were the stingiest with grades and assistance. Isaiah gave the room a once over casually, a habit of his. The agents were all trained to be aware of their surroundings.

There was nothing much to speak of except that the Professor was probably someone who kept everything he had ever collected. Thank You cards and letters lined the walls- pasted in a haphazard manner at any blank, unused spot, creating the most interesting and original wallpaper. Photos of him and the students that he had taught were tacked onto a memo board behind. A grid map of Eaeshore was semi-hidden behind the letters and cards. A wide shelf was placed against one side of the room with volumes in neat stacks upon the compartments. There were too many but Isaiah thought he saw Orwell’s Animal Farm and Marx’s Communist Manifesto somewhere.

He took his seat opposite the professor. In his hands was a printed copy of Skyner’s Thesis from the Internet.

"You know, Alvin’s thesis is actually about dubious faith and politics intertwine together to create catastrophe. Maybe you can enlighten me on your own ideas? I’ll be glad to help in anyway I can." Carter wasted no time with formalities. He was sincere and open, leaning lazily against the back of his armchair with a mellowed down version of the grin, fiddling around with his fountain pen.

"It’s precisely because of the connection he drew that prompts me to want to take it a step further. I’m hoping to kind of, you know, come up with something on that. What he had exposed was pretty scary. Before the Enlightenment, we had faith and politics working hand-in-hand. Then Secularization of the political arena came about, keeping faith separate. However, it seems as though nowadays, political issues are once again infused with religion. While Alvin decides to look at it from the angle of Nazism as a pseudo-religion, I’m trying to draw the clash of secularization of politics with some of the world’s most prominent faiths. A sensitive topic which I will decline to comment on any further until I can piece out what I really want to say." Isaiah felt the words rolling out of his tongue without restraint. He had no idea what he was talking about, alright, some idea. But he was no philosophy, history or political science student. He had no way to tell if his spontaneous analysis of political crises were correct.

Carter nodded, seemingly impressed. "I bet your thesis will centre heavily on the Palestinian and Israelites’ question then."

"Like I said, I’m here to see if anyone could help me before I carry on. I don’t want to offend anybody with my thesis."

Carter chuckled. "You remind me so much Alvin. He had this fantastic idea and he came into my office and we thrashed it out. At the end of it, I told him to go ahead with it and he made a joking comment about ‘hoping not to be targeted by any Nazi-Sympathizers’. The poor boy was diabetic but he never let his illness hamper him. Had always been a little neurotic. You do know he had passed away right?"

Isaiah raised his brows in feigned startle. His speech took on a slight shaky quality. "Is it? I’m sorry to hear that… I… whoa… I have been like a hermit during my time here. The only students deaths I know are the recent ones reported on the news."

"Brilliant student, unfortunate end to his brief life." Carter took in a deep breath and expelled it out in a regretful sigh. "I was there with the family at the funeral. It was very sad. He was going to pursue Masters but it seems I’ll never be able to read anymore of his works. His provocative thesis was highly commendable… highlights to us the dangers of the philosophy of hate." Carter closed his eyes. After a moment’s pause, he looked at Isaiah again.

"What do you think of Alvin’s thesis then? Do you think such a Cult could exist?"

Isaiah was taken aback a little by the question Carter posed. He had not thought of it, just took it for granted that if something so warped existed, then it existed. The rationale behind it was a little elusive to him. "I… I don’t know."

"That people are willing to just follow a fanatic and his minions into creating hell on Earth. I have no idea too but my answer will be that it’s actually entirely possible. However, the idea of worshipping Hitler is a little… funny to me. Nazism may be a pseudo religion but the man they view as god is dead."

Isaiah nodded sagely. "Yes. I thought so too."

"The lengths people will resort to. Espousing hatred, thinking it purifies. Little holocausts are occurring all over the world. Rwanda, Cambodia, in almost every continent. Mass exodus being forced upon a minority by the majority. It’s extremely sad and worrying. Makes me wonder if Armageddon is coming. Well, I’m digressing…" Carter gave him an apologetic look before pointing at him with fingers shaped into a gun- the index finger which was the barrel was directed at Isaiah’s heart.

"I think your idea is pretty good. Your history background will help you definitely understand some of the underlying factors to the major conflicts occurring nowadays. But in my opinion, religion is always used as a scapegoat. Human beings always want more. Some people will just twist the teachings of their faiths to justify their greed, perverted hatred and yearning for power. Back sheep I’ll name them. Black sheep." Carter curled his lips- his expression was one of restrained disgust.

Isaiah nodded again. Little holocausts. His experience in Auschwitz brought the horror to a new intensity. It was the systematic killings that rendered the whole tragedy to be so terrifying. Gruel planning was done to herd millions of people to the slaughter house designed to exterminate huge quantities of human lives at each turn.

But he did not voice it out. He was actually mentally exhausted already. His head felt so heavy, he just wanted to close his eyes and sleep. A migraine visited him at the side of his temple. He had no idea why.

"I’ll really love to see how your thesis turns out. Coincidentally, I do have a student who wanted to explore the same area as well but with a more political angle. Leonard Sanders. The first kid who died. You and he could have such intelligent discussions…" Carter eyes hooded over before he continued, his voice a little hoarse.

"Terrible thing to happen. Another student’s funeral to attend. I get so close to my students sometimes. And Leonard has the making of a very successful academic. He’s a self-taught theologian. What a waste." Carter’s voice slipped a few notches down and his mien was clouded by immense regret. "What a waste."

Isaiah bowed his head slightly. "I’m sorry…"

"Leonard and two other kids actually helped Alvin out in his thesis. They were doing their Final Year Project on Parsifal and I thought the two parties could learn much from each other. They did. Alvin’s thesis’ brilliant so was their project but Alvin did not credit them. Alvin’s accreditations were sorely lacking and I did comment a little too harshly about that. But that’s Alvin. He actually garnered many ideas from all those conventions that he attended, I think they went to New Orleans before to attend a convention held by one of UNO’s political science club. I don’t know how much he gained from that but you can try that avenue. Thrash out your ideas with other students interested in the same genre. You may obtain much more insights than talking with old, stuffy professors…"

"So who are the other two? Maybe I can borrow their project and peruse. It sounds interesting."

"Oh yes! They managed to sift out the various influences that Wagner had on Hitler and how his plays, thickly enshrouded with racism, actually molded and reinforced much of Hitler’s warped ideas. Shelia Thompson and Benedict Olson. We call Shelia, Shelly. They are crazy kids but a challenge to be with. But like quite a few of our students, they have been disappearing from classes. Everyone’s a little afraid to be associated with our department. The second girl’s from Political Science as well. Alvin’s girlfriend to be exact, Sandy Miller. They got together after his brief dance with Shelly. I enjoy being around them so much. They’re more like my siblings than my students. Brings me back to ten years ago when I was in college still. With this nightmare, I wonder if there isn’t a curse that’s hanging over our heads. Is the History department facing the same crisis?"

"Oh. The whole campus pretty freaked out…" Isaiah tried for a generic answer, his appearance divulged none of his recognition at any names.

He had sensed the fear Carter was talking about but it was a guided intuition rather than those that he was granted with. The hallways were quieter. Students walked around with a sort of gloom.

It was obvious what the killings had done to the campus. And the town. The town was also too quiet.

"Yes. I have kids who told me they don’t want to attend classes anymore until the killer’s caught. It’s a shame…"Carter’s voice withered away. He let out a sigh.

"Well, I’ll just pray nothing happens anymore. That the killer’s caught. Come back to me when you have any more questions alright? I may not be eligible to be your supervisor but I’m already interested in how you’ll piece that thesis out. You have two Semesters to do it, just like the honors students in our department right?"

"Yes. But it’s not a very long time."

"Neither is it short. Get cracking now and pour all heart into it. You’ll be surprise at how rewarding it can be." Carter stood up; signaling that Isaiah, a.k.a. Daniel had ran out of time.

Isaiah nodded and gave the professor a friendly smile. "Thanks Prof. I was a little afraid you’ll not entertain me, since I’m not of this major."

"It’s alright. I’m paid to help out. And I believe that teaching is a sacred job. That you have found Alvin’s thesis to be inspiring enough for you to come knocking at my door is a sign of sorts. There may be something I can impart to you or maybe something I can learn from you. There’s always a lesson to be learn somewhere." Carter led Isaiah to the door after Isaiah stood up as well.

"Be seeing you in my lecture? I think it’ll help. Personalities, Wars and Philosophies. It’s on every Monday, 1-3 in LT 14. You can always sit in when you have the time."

Isaiah tried to look as sincere as he could. "I’ll see if I can fit it into my schedule. Thanks."

"Oh, and find a good supervisor. I will love to be helping you out with this idea but you’re of a different discipline. Funny how the subjects in Social Sciences always inter-related. But feel free to knock on my door anytime." Carter opened the door and Isaiah smiled briefly.

"Thanks again for your time."

"No problem."

***

Thoughts ran in Isaiah’s head. After he had left Carter’s office, he stole over to the hostel block where Shelly and Sandy shared again. Knocking on Shelly’s door several time and allowing his highly accurate intuition to guide him, he concluded that Shelly was not in and picked her door’s lock.

Stepping in, his mouth gaped opened. The room was bare. There were no signs of struggle. Feeling his heartbeat quickened, he pulled the sliding door of the wardrobe to expose the contents within.

All that was left were empty clothes hangers.

The desk was devoid of anything. Not even a pencil.

The room was absolutely picked clean.

In a corner of the room, a wastepaper basket sat forsaken. Something stuck out from underneath.

He retrieved it. It was one half of a wrinkled photograph. He recognized the person inside as Alvin Skyner from the profiles that Lynn had absconded from the campus server. Skyner’s hand was around somebody who was cut away from the picture.

He willed for a sense, a vision. Anything.

But none came. He had no answer.

His mobile rang then and vibrated in his jeans pocket. Taking it out in a hurry, he answered huskily. "Raily here."

"It’s me, Detective Stern. There’s been another homicide."

Isaiah sobered. It was too soon. Not even a week. Were they really running out of time?

"What?!"

"A priest this time and a girl. I think you and your partner better come over."

Time. Isaiah saw a mirage of a clock ticking in his mind. A fuzzy image.