THE NEXT DIMENSION

Felix was already waiting for her as she left the plane. Newly elected that she was, this was President Johnson's first visit to Area 51. Felix welcomed her with a smile, and glanced appraisingly at the two hulking bodyguards behind her.

"I don't think you'll be needing them, Mrs. President," he said.

"I would feel better if they came," Sheila Johnson replied.

"Alright Mrs. President."

Felix led the way through the white-painted corridors of the secret base. There was a slight whiff of disinfectant in the air, and sometimes Sheila caught the scent of something else, a strange smell that she didn't recognise.

"So, who is it that you are taking me to see?" she asked Felix, even thought she knew very well. Her hidden superiors had seen to that.

"His name is Karl Kroenen, and he's our top agent."

"Why do you keep him out here instead of at the main F.B.I. headquarters?" This was a question to which she really didn't know the answer, although she could guess.

"Well…" Felix paused, "you'll understand when you meet him."

"What is he like?"

"Kroenen is difficult to describe. He's about twenty, German and he wears this strange metal mask all the time. He never tells anyone why."

Not even the Grand Master of the Illuminati knew that, Sheila thought to herself.

"Twenty," she said aloud, "that seems very young."

"Don't be fooled. He is a master with his two baton swords. Kroenen began learning to kill when he was about fourteen. He was nineteen when we encountered him and persuaded him to work for us."

The President nodded.

Felix stopped.

"We are almost there. A few words of warning though before you meet him. Try not to talk about Jews or Nazis, he can get touchy. Oh, and try not to stare at his scars."

"Why? I have seen scars before."

"Not like his you haven't."

President Sheila stared at the huge metal door that was the entrance in trepidation. She wondered what Karl Kroenen was really like, that Felix was so afraid of him. The Illuminati really didn't know all that much about him. Suddenly she felt very grateful for the presence of the two bodyguards behind her.

Felix pulled out his Area 51 pass-card and swiped it through the slot. The door began to swing open. Sheila stepped through hesitantly, her bodyguards following and Felix bringing up the rear.

The room was dimly lit compared to the spotless corridors outside, with most of the light coming from a huge screen in the left wall, currently showing an online comic. Below it was a wide desk. The walls themselves were built of large grey stones, the first she had seen since entering Area 51. There were some rather gruesome paintings hanging on them, maps of muscle systems that looked as though they had been painted from life, twisted cadavers screaming in the fires of hell, and the like. Next to the screen was a large cork note-board covered in photographs and pieces of tatty paper. The floor was covered in a thick red carpet. The strange smell that she had encountered earlier was back again, stronger. Sheila took all this in in a moment, but then her attention was drawn to the high backed swivel chair beside the desk, and the odd rasping noise coming from it. Sheila thought that it sounded strangely familiar, as was the smell. They brought the Illuminati headquarters to mind.

The back of the chair was facing them, but she could just see that Kroenen had his feet up on the desk, and held something metal in his hands. As if he sensed her eyes on him, the German put his feet down and swivelled the chair around. The rasping sound became clear. Kroenen was sharpening his sword. That was where she had heard the noise before, at the Illuminati headquarters, for many of the higher Knights bore edged weapons of some sort. The agent looked up at her.

The first thing President Sheila noticed about him was his mask. It resembled an old gas mask made of some dark metal. Two black glass circles covered his eyes and hid whatever he might be thinking. The Illuminati skill of sensing a person's mind through eye contact would be of no use here. The next thing she noticed was his scars. Kroenen had his shirt off, and she could see in vivid detail each and every incision that criss-crossed his flesh. Sheila had no doubt that she would have found it hard not to stare had she not seen something of this sort before. Certain members of the Illuminati were given to ritual scarring, which this undoubtedly was. It was too regular to be natural.

The President then turned her attention to the rest of Kroenen's clothes. He was wearing black trousers and calf-length black leather boots. A black shirt lay crumpled on the desk behind him.

Kroenen stood and placed the now razor-sharp sword in a sheath at his side. There was another on the opposite side. Now that Sheila could see it more clearly, she could appreciate its strange design. The blade of the baton sword, as Felix had called it, was a double-sided length of metal sharpened to a point at both ends. It was held by a handle set at right angles to the blade.

"Kroenen," Felix said, "this is the new President, Sheila Johnson. I've brought her to see you."

"Hello Kroenen," Sheila said, holding out her hand. Kroenen took it. His palm was rough, probably from use of the sword, and his skin cool.

"Gueten tag, President," he replied, then bowed, and clicked his heels together. How very German, Sheila thought.

There was silence for a moment.

"So you are our top agent?" she asked.

"Ja,"

"Why you? Why not someone else?"

Sheila was testing him, as she had been ordered. She knew it could prove dangerous, if the rumours were true, but that was what the bodyguards were for.

"Because I am the best," Kroenen answered her. He was not boasting, merely stating a fact.

Felix moved to stand beside her. He looked worried and put a hand on her shoulder. He obviously guessed what she was trying to do. Sheila shrugged it off. She knew what she was doing.

She glanced at Felix. "Felix here tells me you're a Nazi."

Felix went white and began shaking his head emphatically.

"I have nothing against Jews," Kroenen said quietly, his voice dangerous.

"That's not what I asked," Sheila said sweetly, "Are you a Nazi?"

"Warun fragst du Schwerge Frage?" he muttered, "Yes, I suppose I am, but…"

The president interrupted, "I thought anti-Semitism was integral to Nazi philosophy?"

Kroenen slammed his fist down on the desk. It made a noticeable dent.

"I do not condone the slaughter of innocents!"

He stepped forward swiftly until he stood within arm's length of Sheila. His hand slipped down to rest on the hilt of his baton sword.

President Sheila smiled inwardly. She had succeeded in making him angry. Now it was time to test his fighting skills.

One of her huge bodyguards stepped forward.

"Step away from the President," he boomed.

Kroenen looked up at him. He did not seem in the least intimidated. Good.

"And if I don't."

"We might have to teach you something."

"Kroenen laughed. It was a harsh sound, but it suited him. His baton sword was out in an instant, the blade slicing across the throat of the bodyguard. Blood sprayed out, splattering across the carpet, which Sheila now saw was the same colour, on Kroenen's mask, and running down his chest, making it look as though it was his own scars bleeding. The same strange smell flooded the air and this time she recognised it. It was the smell of blood, the smell of death. She shivered.

At seeing his companion going down, the second bodyguard pulled out his gun and snapped off a few shots. Sheila frowned. That wasn't in the plan. The bodyguard should be a fair enough hand to hand fighter. She needn't have worried though. Kroenen moved his baton sword with lightning speed, actually deflecting the bullets. What was that blade made off? They ricocheted off, one hitting a painting, lancing a grinning skeleton, the others slamming into the ceiling, little chips of grey plaster falling. The bodyguard was stunned.

Kroenen drew his other baton sword and leapt at him. One blade slipped through the man's ribs and into his heart, the other neatly removed his head from his shoulders. The blades moved so fast that the man didn't have a chance to move before he was dead. Kroenen wiped his bloody swords on the bodyguard's suit and straightened up. More blood was pumping from the man's neck and pooling on the floor. The German was covered in gore. Despite this he seemed more relaxed. Well that had been the idea. The test was passed.

"I wish you wouldn't do that Kroenen," Felix moaned.

"Wahnsinn Americanischer. He should not have tried to beat me. He was poor sport."

Kroenen looked at President Sheila. "That was a test."

She nodded. She hadn't expected him to be so astute.

Kroenen sheathed his baton swords again and went over to stand by his swivel chair.

"Why? Tests I can understand, but Presidents don't usually sacrifice their followers so easily. You must be Illuminati."

"You're right. We needed to see if you were truly capable of what the rumours said you were."

"Rumours are often blown out of proportion."

"These ones were not."

Sheila would not have usually spoken in front of someone like Felix, but she knew that he probably already knew about the Illuminati, being lord of Area 51.

She glanced at the corkboard behind Kroenen.

"Who are those people?"

"The ones I was told to dispose of."

"Who gave the orders?" Sheila asked casually.

"The previous President."

She was intrigued. The Illuminati had known nothing about any of that sort of business. It seemed Bush hadn't been so loyal as he had seemed. Perhaps that was part of why she had replaced him. She had thought it merely because public opinion was turning against him after the Iraq debacle. Possibly the Grand Master had guessed of his duplicity.

"Bush deceived you even more than that," Kroenen said.

President Sheila was startled. "How…"

"The Illuminati are not the only ones who can tell what others are thinking."

"Go on."

"I will not pretend that I was privy to all of Bush's secrets; I was not, but around here a perspicacious person can learn a lot. It seems that Bush intended for me to eliminate certain key members of the Illuminati, leaving him free to rise up through the ranks."

Sheila gasped. Bush's duplicity seemed to know no bounds.

"I have to say I've never liked Bush much," Kroenen continued. Sheila could understand why; Bush had introduced legislation against supposed Nazis as part of his 'program of fear', a very Orwellian policy.

"I told him I was a Nazi," he said, reading her thoughts again, "but I think he took pleasure in the fact that my own future depended on him. Eventually that was proved wrong. That was why I couldn't let him become even more powerful. Felix here helped me out by sending my message to the Illuminati. You could say that you wouldn't be President if it wasn't for me."

President Sheila was amazed. She had never even suspected Bush. This news was almost unbelievable. She knew though that Kroenen was telling the truth.

"I assume you will want a little while to assimilate this."

Sheila nodded, and turned to leave. She was stopped by a shout from Kroenen. "Here!"

He tossed her something. She deftly caught it and examined it. It was a small gold medallion with a swastika on one side and 'Vielen Gluck." on the other.

"I'm sure you'll be a good President."

Sheila smiled, and left.