Samson is caught between two worlds as conspirators struggle to achieve the final synthesis, where all opposition is absorbed into a single-minded vision of history. Will Samson choose rogue National Security Advisor Henry Linville's United Global Vision, or the Seventh Seal's secret and deadly Directorate? Or will he fight to recover lost friends and lovers sacrificed by those obsessed by geopolitical power and their interpretation of the common good?

Action-packed, philosophical blockbuster that sheds insight on our post-9/11 world.
 

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Living part time in the Florida Keys on the sailboat Serenata, part time in Yellow Springs, Ohio, J. Frederick Arment is finishing a series of revolutionary fiction and nonfiction work, which brings quantum physics to bear on the human condition. He holds a masters degree with a focus on the French and American Enlightenment periods. He has taught in public, private, and state institutions, including Wilberforce College and Wright State University.

EXCERPT

     John fell heavily into the small chair. His legs were numb. He took a moment to steady his breathing and look around the bar. C-SPAN was covering hearings on conspiratorial influence in the Federal Reserve. The Board's Chairman craned his neck over the microphone and responded in terminology that ninety-nine percent of the audience could never hope to understand. 
     He turned from the screen's fluttering. Klein's was more crowded than usual. Pouring over the tables like a subtle amphetamine, was a classical score, synthesized, speeded-up so that it was barely recognizable as Brahms. The crowd shifted in waves, hands grappling laser-enclosed railings, shadows flitting along the receding walls against the blinking of digital displays. John recognized a disproportionate number of faces. Barlow and Flenor employees were everywhere.
     "You missed the party." Mac watched him intently. "Michelle Davis' going away party. You forget?"
     John spotted three acquaintances on one of the top platforms, all of whom worked at the State Department. He had contacted one recently about information relating to the United Global Vision's strategic plan. The woman was a specialist in economic data collection; an intimate of William Casey before his days as CIA Director, when he was Undersecretary of State for economic affairs.
     He lifted his hand and responded to their over-friendly waves. "The place is crawling with Washington climbers."
     "It's an upscale whorehouse," Mac agreed.
     John rubbed his aching legs and looked at Mac's empty gin and tonic. "Have you had over four? You're wasted when you've had over four."
     "I'm drunk, you're cynical. What's the difference?"
     John moved closer. "Something's happened at the office, Mac. Something terrible."
Mac sipped on the straw, shifting the ice and making sounds against the bottom.
John whispered slowly, "Someone's killed Barlow." He waited as if everything would suddenly change, as if the bar would empty and the world would spin to a stop.
     Mac laughed through a wheezing cough.
     John stared. In broken sentences, he began describing what he could remember of the previous hour. Mac's face glowed. The programmer accepted the revelations without comment; exhibiting nothing of the horror John had expected. Mac was a firm believer in the roll of dice, the concept of good and evil too simplistic. Co-workers, politics, even murder were simply coordinates in the misunderstood logic of space and time.
     "So, the witness to murder is a computer," Mac said. "Ain't that progress?"