For more than three decades, a handful of brilliant forgers, all of them at the same time renowned painters, worked so hard and so well that today no one can put their hand in the fire and say, without batting an eyelid, that they possess the original of this or that painting, of any famous painter, of this or no matter what other era. The scientific experts, skilled in the most modern techniques of dating and attribution, the most prestigious gallery owners, art historians, auctioneers, and other intervenors in the field, have all let slip fakes that have consequently been catalogued as authentic and sold as such. The existence of two and even three or more apocrypha of many of them was later discovered. A strict censorship has been imposed on the media; a real veto has fallen from the highest levels that has turned the subject into a sacred taboo. For if it were to spread, panic would spread, as distrust spreads regarding what the system has turned into the supreme currency of exchange, which not only never devalues itself, but has, in recent years, increased in value according to a geometrical progression. The safe-haven value that has more than replaced gold. The elites who hold absolute power would lose colossal amounts of money and their influence would be diminished, to the detriment of their unspeakable projects. With a perfect mastery of the technique of thriller and suspense, Alba Longa tells us the story in which he himself was involved and, during which, he almost cost him his skin. THE HOUSE NEXT DOOR is set in cosmopolitan Nice that is about to experience the most dramatic events in its history. To tell the truth, you don’t come out well reading this novel. The reader is left with the impression that the most sacred words in the world today: freedom, democracy, human rights, social progress and so many others, are nothing but manufactured mirages, a smokescreen called NWO (New World Order) that prevents us from seeing ourselves for what we are: the new slaves of the Empire, at the unconditional service of other Nero and Caligula who are not mad, and for that very reason is more wicked than the former.
ROMAN POLITIQUE
Masks always speak with an English accent.
Clara Bardés, granddaughter of a famous deceased painter, has been hired to restore a series of paintings, some dating from the Middle Ages, which are preserved in the Notre-Dame Cathedral in Paris. During a solitary visit to the upper part of the building, when the tourists have already left, she notices the deformed silhouette of Ergaster, a perverse torturer whom she believed to be dead and of whom she could have been another victim, along with Professor Alba Longa, had it not been for the fact that, at the last moment, Commissioner Tynianov intervened. The cathedral closed behind her, and the criminal, who had apparently not seen her, remained inside. Once in her apartment, terrified, she called Alba Longa and he contacted Tynianov. Between the three of them, pulling the thread of the presence in the cathedral of this murderer, a specialist in the so-called “death of a thousand cuts,” they discover a terrible conspiracy, the disastrous consequences of which are expected for the next few days.
Second year of Macron’s reign. As we predicted in the previous book, France is under the sign of chaos and desolation. For the twentieth consecutive Saturday, the streets of Paris and the main cities of the country are the scene of a confrontation, violent and intransigent, between a people and a police that has unconditionally placed she herself at the orders of an elite; which, by an anti-democratic and corrupting procedure of an already defective political system, has illegitimately seized all the organs of power and is not willing to yield an inch to the massive protests of an entire social body, whose standard of living has been dangerously degraded by the various previous governments, in which it already dominated, although not with the arrogance, with the morgue, with the absolute and unfailing contempt that it is doing now, completely devoid of any humanitarian feeling towards those who have no choice but to live on salaried work.