Hitler and the Clone Reich
Call him Fausto. His mother did, or very nearly did. She called him Francis. Neither name made papa’s shortlist, but he was AWOL at the time and whatever his preference might have been got no consideration.
Kugler’s the German word for a man who makes cowls or hooded coats, a fitting coincidence if you believe in that sort of thing. Ernst Kugler, Fausto’s adopted father, owned a company that made sweatshirts, including black hoodies, the Judenstern police, private security, and civic-minded vigilantes use to identify African-American criminals at a glance. Ernst was also a distant cousin of Victor Kugler, the man who hid Anne Frank.
Talk about irony.
JFK’s assassination did not involve the Cubans, the Kremlin, the Mafia, or the CIA. There was no sinister conspiracy carried out by a secret cabal determined to expand America’s role in Vietnam. In fact, his death had nothing to do with politics. Kennedy got caught up in a good, old-fashioned love triangle, cuckolding a sociopath with a silly mustache.
The shadowy figure on the grassy knoll, spotting for the second shooter, was Adolph Hitler. Langley matched his fingerprints to partials on a Moon Pie wrapper discarded at the scene. Marilyn Monroe was his girl, and the Führer had strong feelings about her dalliances with the President.
Jealousy’s the oldest motive in the book. You can look it up. Cain murdered Abel and ran off with his brother’s wife. Whose kid do you think Aclima was carrying anyway?
In book three, Morrison, Elvis, and Jimi match wits with Adolf and Marilyn’s bouncing, baby boy. He’s all grown up and ready to fulfill his father’s dreams of world domination. He’s smuggled hundreds of vials of frozen Fuhrer sperm out of a super-secret CIA vault — the first step in his master plan to breed an army of Hitler clones and create the Fourth Reich.