THE GLOBAL MARK
© Johny Noer - www.noer.info
The gigantic wall at the end of the conference hall in the EU parliament was decorated with a huge blue flag, bordered with l8 golden stars. It was like gazing into heaven. The stars glittered with an inner fire.
The speaker was honoured with ringing applause. "We don't need a further committee, he continued," we have too many of those." The two men who sat behind the tall, thin figure smiled at each other and nodded. The EU-president was right. A black dressed bodyguard behind the speaker watched with a cold and indifferent attitude. Again the ringing applause met the president as he continued," What we need is a man, who will dedicate himself to the cause. A man who can bring us out of the economic, moral and political swamp that has us bound."
The large gathering stood up and clapped their approval. As the clapping subsided, the president, Mr. Pierre-Henri Clark lifted his voice and called:" Send us such a man!" For a minute there was total silence. "Be he god or devil" he ended, "from now on we shall follow him."
Scarcely were the words spoken, when a wave of enthusiasm began. It had no end. Black-clothed men shook hands. Politicians, secretaries, majors, police and officials hugged with emotion. The bodyguard surveyed Mr. Clark and his surroundings with an iron mask. Smiling, Mr. Pierre-Henri Clark gathered the pages of his manuscript. He exchanged handshake and hugs with the two men behind the podium, mounted the steps to the backstage, and disappeared behind the curtain.
He peeped through a hole at the happy audience. His gaze followed several persons, who greeted nobody, but made their way quickly to the exit. He noticed especially a young couple that tried to leave as fast as possible. He had noticed them already at the end of his speech. At the words:" May he be god or devil, we will follow him," this pair had not stood up to proclaim him. Now they did stand up to escape. Turning to his personal guard and two security officials, he said," Be sure to take into custody the people who leave the hall first."
"How many?" asked the security chef dressed incognito.
"Twenty," was the answer.
"Don't take them to police headquarters, but into my office in the EU-Council Building. No police, no uniforms, all in discretion, understood?"
"All in order, Mr. President!" The security officers left the room.
The bodyguard was looking around watchfully. As Mr. Clark turned toward him, he listened with a slightly scornful smile.
"We need this man I spoke of," whispered Mr. Pierre-Henri Clark, half to the anonymous shadow always following him, and half to himself. "I mean it, understand?" He took the well-trained bodyguard by the arm, shoving him against the wall. "Take off those sunglasses," he shouted," the sun isn't shining in here!"
With arrogance the guard took off his" space-"sunglasses. He had a sullen, stern frown.
"I mean it, do you understand?" continued Mr, Pierre-Henri Clark, as he held the silent guard fast. "Be it a god or a devil is of secondary importance, is that clear?"
The bodyguard regarded his boss with a cold stare.
"And I think I know him!" continued the EU president triumphantly. "I know who it is. No, you err, I didn’t think about myself. It is another, who comes after me, and I am nothing compared to him. I only prepare the way for him, and when he comes the whole world will believe he is god. But they are mistaken. I know him, I have seen him. He is not a god, he is a devil...."
At these words, the silent bodyguard turned. In his eyes was the anger at an oncoming disaster…
The elegant black limousine with gold-starred flags flying arrived in front of the European Council Building in Brussels. A floodlight fell on the glittering metal of the statue of a wild steer, and the woman with waving hair sitting on it. The driver jumped from the wagon and let the president out. His guard was already out on the other side, from where he glanced through the street and neighbourhood. Mr. Pierre-Henry Clark turned to his watchful shadow:" Sunglasses!" he hissed.
The grim "One arm" (the bodyguard always held his right hand in his right pocket) took his sunglasses off with his left hand, and kept watching the road. He meditated the steer and woman.
"Yes, look well at it," continued Mr. Clark. It seems he had the habit of sharing his thoughts with his silent, grim shadow.
"Because of this statue I was accused also. They say that the steer is the horrible beast of Revelations, and the rider is the whore mentioned. That is absurd, you understand, don't you?"
The right hand of the "One Arm" clutched a hidden object in his pocket. Mr. Clark sauntered to the other side of the wagon, and confided:" This statue has nothing to do with the steer or the woman or the antichrist. I hope you understand that. I hope you don't believe in such things, or? I can trust you, can't I? You don't belong to them?"
The shadow silently shook his head. It seemed he had a hard time keeping his right hand in the pocket.
"That's good for you," continued the president with a crazy laugh," for if you would believe such a story, you would be fired on the spot. These people are able to kill me, and if you were with them underground...."
The president stopped. He noticed that the security agents still were taking people from the conference into the EU-hall.
"This statue shows Zeus abducting Europe to Crete," he called to the bodyguard," but in here are twenty people believing it is a symbol of the whore riding on a steer, and that we put it up in front of the EU-Centre prefigure antichrist. They also believe that in my talk tonight I invited the devil to take the leadership of EU. These people and their like are a danger to our society. Now is the moment I have to take action. I hope you agree with me?"
Mr. Pierre-Henri Clark strode through the square, followed by his one-armed, black, hate-filled shadow. The streetlight gave the horn of the metal steer a glittering gleam. The wind whispered through the waving locks of the woman-and it was as though the roaring beast could be heard galloping through Brussels.
Just as the two men climbed the steps to enter the EU-hall, two more security guards arrived with a young couple. "Mr. President," called the man, leaving his captors in one stride, "Mr. President, allow me to ask you a question."
Mr. Pierre-Henri Clark turned to him. His bodyguard stepped between the president and the newcomer. "Let us go inside, "said Mr. Clark," and I will gladly hear what is on your heart." All stepped simultaneously through the large glass door into the government palace. They stopped in the foyer, and the president indicated a group of sofas by a marble bench. "I can give you only a few minutes," said Mr. Clark," as I have a meeting with some people in my office, most of them have been waiting a while already."
Mr. and Mrs. Jones are on their way to the same meeting," said one of the officers dryly. They just came from the conference centre where you spoke, Mr. President".
"Oh, I see, you are also invited to this late meeting, welcome." Mr. Clark shook hands with Mr. and Mrs. Jones. "Thank you for accepting my invitation" He scrutinized them as if he already had seen them.
"We didn't really accept," answered Mr. Jones. "We told the two gentlemen that today is not good for us, the children are home alone. They just called for us to return quickly. The youngest got into a little accident."
"I hope nothing serious?" asked Mr Clark with a worried look.
"Not too bad," answered Mr. Jones, "but we ask you to excuse us. It is best we return home immediately."
"If it is not serious nor absolutely necessary, I would greatly appreciate you to accompany me to my guests. I have some serious matters to talk over with all...." The voice of the president sounded cold.
Mr. and Mrs. Jones look earnestly at each other. "In this case may I be excused, Mr. President," said Mrs. Jones to fix my hair quickly. I look pretty unkempt." She started for the ladies' room. The sharp voice of the policeman stopped her." Here is a mirror, Mrs. Jones. If this satisfies you, we won't keep Mr. Clark waiting."
"Yes, but," replied Mrs. Jones.
"It is important not to keep the president waiting," The security officer's voice sounded commanding. "Here is the mirror."
Mrs. Jones neared the mirror and opened her handbag. What happened next seemed like an old, black and white cowboy movie. Mrs. Jones took comb, brush and hairspray from her handbag. As the security officer came close to observe her intentions, she took the hairspray, squeezed three or four times hard on the button, and sprayed into the face of the astonished officer. In frenzy he pulled a heavy gun from under the jacket, and while Mrs. Jones sprayed three more times, he made three shots into the air.
The people in the hall were paralyzed with terror. Mr Jones, a somewhat heavy, half bald-headed man, jumped up with a red face and ran towards Mrs. Jones. Meanwhile Mrs. Jones was observing horrified the security officer, who lay on the floor with an agonized face. Mr. Jones grasped for the pistol that had fallen out of the officer's hand. He shot several times into the air, to empty the weapon.
All the shots made everybody take for cover, the guests, the officers, politicians, and members of the parliament. The bodyguard grabbed Mr. Clark and threw him brutally to the floor. The other security officer lifted his weapon and aimed carefully at Mr. and Mrs Jones, who had run to the end of the hall to escape in one of the corridors. He had focused on them well, but before he could send shot, a loud explosion sent him lifeless to the floor.
Mr. Clark stared horrified at the dead man, whose bleeding head lay only a few feet from him. He looked around for his 'one-armed' protector, who watched him with a sarcastic smile. In his right hand was a smoking pistol, and he sent several more shots above the heads of uniformed men, who were creeping closer.
"That's the end for us, Mr. President," he said, turning to the astonished Mr. Clark. "Your monologues have offended me too long. And just so you know;" he said grimly, while he filled his pistol with more ammunition, "I don't belong to those’ Holy people, like you think - but they are more agreeable to me than you are." A new series of wild shots rang through the hall, while security personnel came out of the corners, and from behind white flower boxes.
The black-clad, anonymous shadow of Mr. Clark slowly donned his sun glasses again. "So, Mr. President he said, sharply, now the two of us can finish the last round. Are you ready?" He was interrupted by splinters of the white marble bench, where they had taken shelter. Sharpshooters were trained on him. The air was filled with broken glass, loud explosions and flying objects. A small loudspeaker was thrown onto the bench.
"Can you hear me, l720?"
"Can you hear me?"
Another ear-splitting shot rang out next to the ear of the president, who screamed out loudly.
"That’s the president begging for mercy," continued the armed man, being identified as l720…
"Say something, Mr. President." More shots into the air.
"For heaven's sake," called the president, with his mouth directly by the loud speaker, "Stop this shooting at once." More splinters flew around his head.
"In the end you will shoot me. Speak with....Mr. Jack." He gave a questioning glance at his 'shadow', who all of a sudden became a living person, no longer a number.
"As you say, Mr. President," came out of the loud speaker again. Slowly the noise and shooting in the hall stopped. Silence entered....
"I want my own office", Jack demanded. "It’s too dangerous for the president to stay here. Give us within two minutes our own room. If there is anyone else in that room, Mr. Pierre-Henri will be a dead man."
The answer came out of the box at once:" O.K. A small office will be provided for you right away."
"Great!" Jack grabbed the president by the arm. "We are on our way....Stop all this shooting.....if you value your president’s life....."