The Fourth Reich: A Novel

by Robert Van Kampen

Overview

Based on biblical prophecy, this towering novel creates a chilling portrayal of what will happen in the world’s final days. Robert Van Kampen, one of the leading experts in scriptural prophecy, unleashes a dramatic and unforgettable vision of the end-times.

It began forty years ago with an act of cutting-edge medical science. Today a charismatic politician named Nikolai seizes power, kills his enemy, and mesmerizes skeptics with his message of a new one-world government, setting off the seven-year period of tribulation. As famines and civil wars rock the glove, and as prophesied events begin to unfold, the truth explodes on an unsuspecting population: Nikolai is not just a tyrant, he is history’s most evil man, risen from the dead. Once the Third Reich nearly destroyed the world. This time it will not fail. . . .
 
As the countdown to Holocaust II begins, reporter Anatoly Altshuler prepares an exodus for the people of Israel, Christian businessman Mike Teasdale sounds the survival call for the people of America, and Sonya Petrov, once Nikolai’s closest adviser, realizes her catastrophic mistake. As tensions mount, friends and families, Jews and Gentiles, find themselves stranded on different sides of an apocalyptic war—between the Antichrist . . . and the Messiah.

Product Details

ISBN-13:	9780307556257
Publisher:	Random House Publishing Group
Publication date:	02/19/2009
Sold by:	Random House
Format:	eBook
Pages:	560
File size:	2 MB

Read an Excerpt

PROLOGUE
 
The weak red orb of the sun hovered low over the eastern horizon, as if it hadn’t the strength to rise any higher. A wintry blast of arctic wind rocked the black limousine as the driver skidded the vehicle onto the road leading to a delivery gate at Moscow’s Sheremetyevo I Airport.
 
In the broad back seat, separated from the driver by a glass panel, a woman sat huddled beside her husband. Feeling her shiver, Georgi Belov patted his wife’s hand.
 
“Your hands are freezing, my dear.”
 
“I am worried, Georgi. Are we doing the right thing?”
 
Belov closed his eyes momentarily, struggling to hide his irritation. “We’ve been through this many times, Olga. We both want children, but the doctors tell us you cannot conceive. Fortunately, there are things that can be done.”
 
“Yes, I know. I only wish I didn’t have to leave Russia. What if something goes wrong?”
 
“This is the only way, Olga. This particular in-vitro process is new. None of our Russian doctors do it yet.” He did not add that the DNA fertilization procedure was also still experimental in Germany.
 
“I wish you were coming with me.”
 
“If I could, I would, darling, but you know my duties will not permit it. I will be along in two weeks.” He patted her knee. “Although the procedure is new, the father must still provide his contribution.” His attempt at humor brought no smile to her face. “Olga, you must be brave. Will you—for me?”
 
She nodded, but continued to look down at her hands, clasped tightly together in black leather gloves.
 
“Now cheer up, Olga. Think of our future son—or daughter.”
 
The driver pulled up at the gate and rolled down his window. Belov watched through the glass partition as the man held out the security papers to the Federal Security Bureau guard. The guard examined them under the feeble glow of the single light bulb over his tiny shack, then glanced quickly toward the passengers. As he shoved the papers back through the window, the guard stiffened into the stance of a salute. Belov gave him a stern nod as they drove through the gate and onto the tarmac.
 
Mechanics and other personnel moved among the parked aircraft, service vehicles, and refueling trucks as the busy airport prepared for the day’s flights to domestic destinations. The driver stopped the limousine at the stairs leading up to the Antonov 24V’s doors and stepped out to open the rear door for his passengers.
 
“Time for you to go, my dear,” Belov said. He kissed Olga lightly on the lips.
 
“I will miss you.”
 
“I will miss you, too, but you have nothing to worry about. I have arranged for everything.”
 
“Yes, I know. Thank you, Georgi.”
 
He squeezed her hand, then stepped out onto the tarmac. He helped her from the limousine and escorted her to the bottom of the stairs that led up to the aircraft door. Above, in the doorway of the plane, a uniformed flight attendant waited, a bored expression on his face.
 
Belov watched as his wife made her way up the stairs, clutching her black cloth coat around her against the cold. As soon as she entered the cabin, the ground crew pulled the stairs away while the flight attendant closed the door of the aircraft. Belov settled himself once more in the limousine and leaned into the leather comfort of the seat as his driver turned the vehicle and headed back to the city.
 
Dr. Karl Fischer pushed his black-rimmed glasses back up the bridge of his nose and nervously checked the microscope once more. Then he straightened up, rubbed the back of his tired neck, and exhaled an impatient breath into the sterile surgical mask. It was well past midnight and he had not moved from this spot in several hours.
 
Fischer had been introduced to the project the preceding year. The research project had been interesting when it began, but it soon took on the distinctly unpleasant odor of political intrigue when a Dr. Otto Heine arrived at Fischer’s genetics lab, bearing frozen samples of skull fragments in a box with Russian lettering. Inside, he found a small tag attached to the lip of the sample bags; it read, “Berlin, 4 May 1945.”
 
Much about Dr. Heine disturbed Fischer, but the man’s offer proved irresistible: In exchange for the successful extraction of viable cell nuclei from the bone fragments, Fischer would be provided with a significant stipend, a blank check for equipment as well as personnel. Fischer’s only restriction was an absolute prohibition of any discussion of the experiment, including publication of the results. The project had been classified as high-security government research. Still, Karl figured that what he learned he would remember.
 
Weary, but not ready to go home for the day, he again leaned over his microscope. His concentration was interrupted, however, when the lab door suddenly swung open. A small, intense figure entered with an air of authority. Dr. Otto Heine was a man totally devoid of patience or tact.
 
“Are we alone?” Heine barked.
 
“We are.” Fischer barely refrained from rolling his eyes at the man’s paranoia.
 
“Good. You have something to report, I understand.”
 
“Yes. The extraction from the skull fragment was successful. I have examined the nuclei myself. They are viable.” Fischer nodded at the microscope.
 
“Good,” Heine said and leaned over to peer through the lens.
 
“Very good,” he said a few moments later. “Stay here.” Heine turned abruptly and, without formalities, made his exit.
 
Dr. Karl Fischer fumed. Blank-check grants or not, there were some things a research scientist should not have to endure from a glorified government worker. Heine’s arrogance was beyond belief, even in these heady circles. Within minutes, Heine returned. In his hand he carried a petri dish, which he gingerly placed beside the microscope. Fischer noticed the label attached beneath the clear laboratory dish.
 
“What is that?” Fischer asked. “Is it from the in-vitro lab? Why are my samples going to the in-vitro lab?” he asked.
 
Almost before the words left his lips, Heine whirled on him. Fischer made an involuntary step back when he saw the cold black eyes above the white surgical mask.
 
“I can see that you never leave this building,” Heine said, threateningly. “Remember the papers you signed when the project began? You are to ask no questions—nothing! Do I make myself clear?”
 
Karl nodded.
 
“Very well. I will not warn you again!”
 
With that, Heine turned back to the table and as Fischer watched, initially in astonishment and then in chilling fear, the dark room began to be illuminated as an eerie purple glow surrounded the man standing in front of him. As the hue grew in intensity, Heine’s features seemed to bulge and melt. His lab coat and mask disappeared, revealing a figure that only remotely resembled a human being.
 
Karl backed farther and farther away toward the corner of the lab, wide-eyed and shaking, as the darkness revealed a humanoid face, with only the cruel eyes recognizable as those of the former man. The being seemed to tower over the petri dish. Suddenly, the glass dish containing the fertilized egg drifted upward into midair. Then the dish dropped away, leaving suspended in air a clear, mucus-like substance with a pinpoint in the center, growing before his very eyes. Soon the egg’s details were clearly visible, with the nucleus in the center of it.
 
Responding to a simple hand motion by the dark being that moments before had been Dr. Heine, the single test tube that contained the DNA particles, extracted from the skull fragment, rocketed out of its rack and dumped its contents onto the magnified egg. The mass of DNA resolved itself into thousands of individual particles, which seemed to swarm around the egg beneath.
 
“Now!” the being rumbled.
 
The egg’s nucleus quivered and shrank, turning black as it died inside its membrane. Then a single particle broke free of the DNA mass and penetrated the egg, replacing the egg’s black nucleus that had been killed only seconds earlier. Suddenly the egg seemed to implode as it diminished rapidly in size.
 
Again, with only the slightest movement of the being’s hand, the petri dish rose to catch the egg and surrounding liquid, after which the dish and test tube returned to their places.
 
At the same time, the dark being shrank and once again became the figure of Dr. Otto Heine. As if nothing unusual had happened, he turned to Karl and smiled. The rich voice boomed in the empty room. “You will, of course, remember the terms of our agreement.”
 
It was a statement, not a question. Karl shivered and nodded, numbly wondering if he had been hallucinating in the lateness of the hour.
 
“Good.”
 
Heine took the petri dish with him, leaving Dr. Karl Fischer alone with his thoughts.