Facade

S. Heiser Michael

Description

Sci-fi meets historical fact in this thrilling novel by ancient-language scholar Michael S. Heiser.Haunted by his parents' death and his career failures, Dr. Brian Scott has begun to settle for the life he's been given.Until he's kidnapped by military insiders known as The Group.Disappearances. Visitations. Murder.Brian and a team of world-class scholars are given a confidential mission: To prepare humanity for a new reality. They are here. But as the government's involvement with extraterrestrials is revealed, strange things begin to happen.Something isn't right. Unpeeling layer after layer of deception and counter-deception, Brian moves toward a shocking revelation that will forever alter how humanity sees itself.Every document cited in The Facade actually exists.Every ancient text discussed in The Facade is authentic.Every historical figure referred to or quoted in The Facade is real.

Sujets

• Unidentified flying object

Informations

• Publié par: Lexham Press
• Date de parution: 19 novembre 2012
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781577995777
• Langue: English
• Poids de l'ouvrage: 3 Mo

Extrait

THE FAÇADE
Volume One of The Façade Saga
Michael S. Heiser
The Façade
Volume One of The Façade Saga
Copyright 2014 Michael S. Heiser
Kirkdale Press, 1313 Commercial St., Bellingham, WA 98225
KirkdalePress.com
DrMSH.com
ReadTheFacade.com
To learn more about The Portent , volume two in The Façade Saga, visit ReadThePortent.com .
All rights reserved. You may use brief quotations from this work in presentations, reviews, articles, and books. For other uses, please contact Kirkdale Press for permission, at [e-mail] .
This is a work of fiction. Characters, organizations, places, and events are either products of the author’s imagination or, when factual, used in a fictitious manner. Any fictional character’s resemblance to actual persons, living or dead—unless explicitly noted as such by the author—is purely coincidental.
Second Kirkdale edition. Previous editions of this novel were published by SuperiorBooks.com , Inc. (2001) and Acid Test Press (2007).
Cover design: Patrick Fore
Ebook ISBN: 978-1-57-799577-7
Contents
Prologue
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Chapter 65
Chapter 66
Chapter 67
Acknowledgments
Publisher’s Note
“More heroism has been displayed in the household and the closet than on the most memorable battlefields in history.”
— Henry Ward Beecher
A hero puts aside their own hopes and dreams to help someone else achieve theirs.
To Drenna—my wife and my hero.
Prologue
God has taken his stand in the divine council; among the gods he passes judgment … You are all gods, sons of the Most High, all of you.
— Psalm 82:1 , 6 , the Bible
The Bible is a peculiar, mysterious book. If those who regard it as sacred read it closely, penetrating the camouflage of sanctioned translations, they would be shocked. According to its 82 nd Psalm , there are other gods of the supernatural realm besides the God of Israel, and there are other sons of God besides Jesus Christ. These other gods, “sons of the Most High” in Psalm 82 , serve the God of Israel in a divine council. According to the 38 th chapter of the book of Job, before the world was created and the earth first brought forth life, they were there. Genesis 1:26 hints that when humans were first put on the earth, they were there. And when God withdrew their inheritance as lords over earth and gave the planet to mortals, they were there and were obedient … for a time.
Demoted to watching the affairs of humankind, they observed the human creature, witnessing the transmission of the divine image from generation to generation, a potentially endless succession of the right to rule. But they also gained knowledge of human weaknesses, proclivities, susceptibilities. And so it was that the Watchers began to crave what they had lost, to seek their own dominion and succession. In the fullness of time they arrived on earth in celestial flesh and mingled their seed with the seed of human women, bringing forth a dynastic line of immortal gods cloaked in mortal flesh. They would take back what was theirs. They would rule the earth as it should have been from the beginning, and humanity would take them as their gods. But the Maker, filled with outrage, betrayed them, exiling them to the Abyss, sentencing their bastard sons to death in the great flood.
Before their extermination the divine half-breeds were known by men as nephilim —giants. After the slaughter, their disembodied immortal spirits were called shedim , demons. But the Maker had played the fool. They were reborn the instant they died, and so they cannot be killed. They had become as their fathers: ageless, free, uncontainable—and angry. The ancient Book tells us that after the flood, more of God’s cosmic sons, the members of his council, broke rank, descended to earth, and stole the hearts of men. Humanity worshiped them as teachers, healers, deliverers, and their gods. They raised up other hybrid races known from the ancient biblical text—Anakim, Emim, Rephaim, and Zamzummim. These too were massacred, swelling the ranks of the shedim .
Condemned to roam the earth, for millennia, the horde has continued to watch … and plan … and wait. Jesus understood, and He warned His listeners. One day the Watchers would return—and in a manner so cunning that even His own followers could be deceived. To a timeless being, time means nothing. But timing is everything.
1
For our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against the principalities, against the powers, against the rulers of darkness, and against the spiritual forces of evil in the heavenly realms … Being bold and arrogant, some men are not afraid to slander the celestial ones; yet even angels, although they are stronger and more powerful than men, dare not bring slanderous accusations against these celestial beings …
— Ephesians 6:12 ; 2 Peter 2:11 , the Bible
“I’m so eager to hear your explanation,” the graying, middle-aged man patronized his burly associate. With a dismissive smirk he scattered a half dozen faxes across the polished, brown table that separated them.
The seated man’s pudgy fingers pawed at the documents, gathering the strewn pages, a look of consternation forming on his face. His accuser straightened the vest under his suit coat and strolled slowly across the room’s plush carpeting, patting each of the high-backed leather chairs as he passed.
The man sifted carefully through the pages. His rage quickly turned to despair. His mind searched for a new strategy, but the thought of losing what appeared to be the find of a lifetime gnawed at him. “How could they lose the artifacts?” He sank back in his chair with a groan of exasperation.
“I think it’s quite understandable that Iraqi Customs wouldn’t want their property leaving the country, professor. The real mysteries here are the ineptitude of your associates at hiding the tablets.” He shook his head. “I should have taken care of this myself.”
“And what difference would that have made?”
“You know the answer to that! I know people who could have helped us get the tablets past customs. We just have to keep digging. The site is a royal building, and they weren’t the only tablets found. There’s bound to be more.”
“Frankly, Dr. Weston, we both know this door is completely closed now. You’ll be arrested on sight in Iraq if you return. Well done, if I must say so.” The well-dressed man clapped slowly in mock celebration.
“ What? ” The professor cocked his head as if to strain at the words he’d already heard. He squinted in disbelief at his accuser. “Do you seriously think I’ve acted to undermine our goal, not to mention decades of my own work?”
“You stupid …” The well-dressed man suddenly stopped pacing and stood still. He glared at the seated man with contempt.
“How dare you address me in such a way!” The professor rose from his seat, his complexion reddened with rage. “Need I remind you who you’re speaking to?” Dr. Weston blustered. “How many Dravidian linguists do you know? And how many of them know Elamite and Sumerian? There isn’t a linguist alive who’s done more work in this area.”
“Yes, so we’ve heard—more than once.” The well-dressed man resumed his gait without so much as a glance.
“These things take time!” the scholar protested. “This isn’t like checking a book out at a library. Finding tablets, especially one like these, is rare.”
“You’ve been given months and every resource you’ve requested, and you’ve failed!”
“Give me more time! We may still be able to get the tablets. Send me to Iraq and let me try. Nineteenth-century linguists would have killed for this.”
The professor’s accuser now stood next to him. He leaned on one of the high-backed chairs. “An interesting choice of words, professor.” He straightened his tie. “You should be happily translating now but for your own presumption. That’s why you were brought here to Mount Weather. You’ve been in and out of Iran a hundred times. Yet somehow, Customs was in the mood to search your team more thoroughly … I don’t believe in Providence.”
“This is preposterous! I did nothing to sabotage our work. We mustn’t give up! The world must know the truth and believe!”
“Oh, they’ll believe, and we won’t give up … but your work here is done.”
“No! I’ve devoted my whole life to this search!”
“Then I guess you have no reason for living.”
“Wha——what?” he stuttered. “Are you threatening me?”
Without another word, the well-dressed man turned on his heel and left the room, leaving the dumbfounded scholar alone.
Dr. Weston stewed for a few seconds and then angrily tossed the papers in his hand across the table. He took out a handkerchief and wiped his brow and upper lip, his mind racing. What were his options? He had to act, but how?
He reflected a moment and then grabbed the edge of the table to push himself away. To his astonishment, his chair refused to move, as though it were bolted to the floor.
“What the h——”
His own frightened gasp cut short his expletive. The terror within him built to a silent crescendo. He wanted to scream, but the sound refused to escape from his gaping mouth. He gazed in transfixed horror at his own reflection in the polished veneer of the tabletop, and at that of a hideous figur