Nicolaes Nimbus

By Koos Verkaik

High Tech Science
Vs.
Ancient Magic
Scientists and wealthy owners of high-tech companies have pumped millions of dollars into the search for immortality. But does the future look bright or is there disaster waiting behind the horizon of time? The world is getting more complicated by the day, but who’s actually in charge?
A group of scientists in Germany have unmasked a cheating visionary. An intriguing phenomenon from the past turns up. Who is Nicolaes Nimbus? Is he an immortal man of flesh and blood from our ancient past? The hunt is on! The secret is priceless! Who is in control, the scientists or the mystic? The intriguing novel NICOLAES NIMBUS embraces modern developments... and warns against ancient magic that never dies, waiting for the right time to manifest itself. Read on and shiver...but keep the lights on.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Outer Banks Publishing Group
• Release date: May 15, 2020
• ISBN: 9780463404669

Koos Verkaik

Koos Verkaik, a ‘Dutchy’ with spunk and an inexhaustible drive and fathomless imagination, is one of the most productive authors of the moment.We deem it our special privilege to work with an author of his caliber and have him on board. Besides a fast growing pile of novels in his specific genre: Mystery, Adventure and Magic, he also writes children’s books.Koos wrote his first novel, a sci-fi, when he was only eighteen years old, during a weekend; it was published immediately—he was only sixteen when he wrote a series about a young space traveler who went in search of adventures on a far-away planet; it got published in the weekly newspaper (three pages each week). He wrote his first novel, the Sci Fi Adolar, in a weekend! It got published right away... He published with big Dutch publishers such as De Arbeiderspers in Amsterdam. With his books All-Father and Wolf Tears, he earned the name critics gave him of The Dutch Stephen King.Koos Verkaik is the writer of about 60 books, both children’s books and novels, many hundreds of comic scripts, he has been a copy writer and is working on different screenplays and new novels now.

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Nicolaes Nimbus

SMASHWORDS EDITION

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Outer Banks Publishing Group

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Nicolaes Nimbus

By Koos Verkaik

Copyright © 2020 by Koos Verkaik

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Nicolaes Nimbus

High Tech Science vs. Ancient Magic

By Koos Verkaik

Outer Banks Publishing Group

Raleigh/Outer Banks

Nicolaes Nimbus © 2020 by Koos Verkaik. All rights reserved. Published in the United States of America by Outer Banks Publishing Group - Outer Banks/Raleigh.

www.outerbankspublishing.com

No part of this book may be reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

For information contact Outer Banks Publishing Group

[e-mail]

This book is a work of fiction. All the characters and events in this book are not real, and any resemblance to actual events organizations or actual persons living or dead is unintentional.

Edited by Dennis De Rose, Moneysaver Editing

FIRST EDITION – May 2020

Library of Congress Control Number: 2020937522

ISBN: 978-1-7341687-5-4

eISBN:978-0-4634046-6-9

Chapter 1

False Identity, True Identity, and First Listing

Free interpretation of an article from the archives of The Society of Tamfana.

Place: Leiden, Republic of the Seven United Netherlands. Time: Around 1750.

Book printer Geerten Jacobsz listened to the rattling of wooden wheels on the cobblestones of De Breestraat on the other side of the stained glass window. Outside it was dreary, cloudy and rainy, inside dim. Geerten sat on a dark wooden chair with red velvet upholstery in a lavishly furnished up room. Seated in the darkest corner, a man was nervously twirling a cane around his fingers, making the copper knob fly around like a huge, exotic beetle.

Not a word was spoken between them. It was obvious both visitors took into account the walls were thin in a fortuneteller’s waiting room. Any trained eavesdropper could distill useful information from a cavalier conversation.

The silence gave Geerten an uncomfortable feeling: he noticed the man was constantly observing him. He heaved a sigh of relief when a door swung open and a maid stepped inside.

Mr. Raes… Mrs. Reede will receive you now. Will you please follow me?

The man clenched the fingers of his left hand around his cane and made a protesting gesture with his right hand. I have all the time in the world. Let this gentleman go first. It is raining outside. I prefer to stay dry…

As you wish, said the maid, while she looked inquiringly at Geerten.

Geerten rose to his feet and gave the man a friendly nod when he started walking to the door.

I have been here before. Ada Reede came from a family of textile traders; several legacies had made her a wealthy woman. She dealt in anything that might be profitable and she provided loans to entrepreneurs. All her business decisions were complicated rituals; she would go into a trance, roll the dice and consult the cards. It was generally known that she was blessed with the gift of prophecy and made a lot of money because of it.

Anyone who wanted to make use of her gift wrote her a letter. If she replied with a rejection, it was useless to beg her to reconsider; she never gave anyone a second chance. Geerten Jacobsz had received an invitation, the fortuneteller had already helped him several times, issuing sage advice.

He recalled one of his recent visits. He remembered her saying, I’ve learned much about this myself, she had explained to him. Often I enjoy delving deeply into the problems of another person.

The maid led Geerten up a broad staircase to the first story, opening the door to a big stateroom at the front of the house. Ada Reede gave him a warm welcome. She wore an eccentric, shining silk robe, it was probably imported from Japan. Geerten, dressed in the fashion of his time, wore pastel justeaucorps, silk stockings, and shoes with silver buckles. His horsehair wig was short and full of curls. He had removed his three-cornered hat when he entered the room and put it on his knee after he had taken a seat at a table sitting opposite Ada. He noticed her studying every line in his face when he explained why he needed to consult with her again.

Geerten Jacobsz was the owner of a printing house and a bindery, a publisher as well. The freedom of the printed word was considered paramount in the Republic of the Seven United Netherlands, more than elsewhere in Europe. French Huguenots, political refugees, philosophers, and freethinkers had settled in Leiden to print their books, books that were banned elsewhere. Not so long ago a book had been published wherein man was compared with a machine and God was put on the sidelines. The book was not banned, but the patience of indignant, influential theologians had almost come to an end.

Someone had offered Geerten the opportunity to publish similar manuscripts, he told Ada about the shocking contents.

My question to you is if I publish these works, will I risk long imprisonment or even worse? Must I fear getting involved in a lawsuit, will this cost me more than it will ever bring in?

Ada had closed her eyes and leaned so far forward that her forehead rested on the tabletop. He had already been silent for quite a while, staring at her in surprise, when she slowly sat up and opened her eyes.

Experimentum crucis… she whispered, an ordeal. The deciding test is…

She opened a little wooden box and took out six dice made of walrus teeth, rolled them across the table, pushed them together, and stared at the spots. What did I say, anything?

Experimentum crucis… he repeated.

"Ah, but the dice tell me the opposite. It is not God who decides but the theologians will be wagging their tongues. They will be mild, Geerten Jacobsz, you can print the books and publish them. Yes, there will be a lot of commotion and that will draw attention to them. You will make a profit. People show little of even big flaws wherein man was compared with a machine and God was put on the sidelines. The book was not banned, but the patience of indignant, influential theologians had almost come to an end.

Someone had offered Geerten the opportunity to publish similar manuscripts, he told Ada about the shocking contents.

My question to you is if I publish these works, will I risk long imprisonment or even worse? Must I fear getting involved in a lawsuit, will this cost me more than it will ever bring in?

Ada had closed her eyes and leaned so far forward that her forehead rested on the tabletop. He had already been silent for quite a while, staring at her in surprise, when she slowly sat up and opened her eyes.

Experimentum crucis… she whispered, an ordeal. The deciding test is…

She opened a little wooden box and took out six dice made of walrus teeth, rolled them across the table, pushed them together, and stared at the spots. What did I say, anything?

Experimentum crucis… he repeated.

Ah, but the dice tell me the opposite. It is not God who decides but the theologians will be wagging their tongues. They will be mild, Geerten Jacobsz, you can print the books and publish them. Yes, there will be a lot of commotion and that will draw attention to them. You will make a profit. People show little of even big flaws and that is what makes them different. No opinions should remain unmentioned, especially not when they germinate in philosophical ground. Do what you have to do, present new insights for everyone who wants to read about them!

Geerten felt relieved and stood up immediately. It is clear to me that you can look into the future. I am very happy with your advice.

Please don’t go away yet, she put her dice back into the little wooden box. I need your help now. There are only women in the house and I don’t trust the man in the waiting room downstairs. His name is Tijn Raes, he is a cabinetmaker who urgently needs my help finding someone who stole money and merchandise from him. The name he gave as a reference is sound but can sense his presence clearly; it doesn’t give me a good feeling. I am beginning to suspect he has evil intentions. She pointed to a door. I would very much appreciate it if you step inside and leave the door ajar… you can come to the rescue when he becomes violent. Are you willing to help me?

Of course, he said firmly, we have become good friends over time, you have given me your good advice once again.

He walked up to the door, opening it he was awed by imposing pieces of furniture that filled the room. Small silver objects shone behind the glass of a high display case, on top of other closets stood expensive china vases, there were chairs the size of thrones and splendid painting hung on the walls– portraits, landscapes and still lifes. A cabinet of curiosities containing an enormous amount of special objects that were probably collected by different generations – rare manuscripts, skulls of exotic animals, frightening little creatures in bottles, coins and crystals, a globe and a planetarium, indefinable little appliances, the statue of an Egyptian god, weapons and more paintings… dominated the center atop a fine silk rug.

Ada pulled a cord that hung near the wall behind her chair, a light tinkle could be heard below. The maid appeared and looked around. I have time now to receive Mr. Raes.

The maid nodded, went downstairs, and came back not much later to announce Tijn Raes and let him in.

Ada rose to her feet but remained standing cautiously behind the big table. Mr. Raes…

The man walked up to her with large strides. Just before he reached her he let the cane twirl around his fingers allowing it skim across the tabletop. The copper knob broke the little box; the six dice flew into the air.

Tijn Raes…, that’s not my name… My true name is Nicolaes Nimbus; I came here to confront you and your scams. You are not a fortuneteller at all, you are a swindler. I will make your evil practices public unless you pay me hush money. And by that, I mean a lot of cash.

He held the cane in both hands and seemed ready to lash out. In the meantime, Geerten left the room of curiosities, carefully walking toward the table. He tried to walk lightly over the soft, thick carpets that lay strewn about like safe islands in a sea of shining parquet. The man stood with his back towards him, still screaming to Ada, who sat frozen in her chair. Geerten hit him with a left and a right in the neck. Tijn Raes tried to turn round quickly, but stumbled and fell, letting go of the cane. Geerten leaned forward and dealt him another blow. Tijn managed to avoid it by rolling to one side – then he jumped to his feet and ran up to the door.

The maid, who had run upstairs to see what was going on, was trampled in his haste to escape.

Geerten went after the man, rushing down the stairs and through the hall. The front door was open. Geerten looked outside, he watched from a distance as the man slipped on the wet cobblestones of De Breestraat, grazing his hands and knees as he scrambled to his feet and staggered along as if he’d had too much wine.

When he went upstairs again, the door to the stateroom closed. Another maid, whom he had not seen earlier, told him Ada had passed out, that he should wait till she managed to recover from her fright. After waited patiently for minutes, he was ushered inside.

Ada was leaning back in a dramatic pose on a sofa holding a perfume-sprinkled handkerchief under her nose. She gestured to an armchair opposite the sofa.

Sit down, my friend. You have rescued me. I was right, my intuition didn’t deceive me, that was a very bad man…

So his name is not Tijn Raes, I heard him tell you his real name, Nicolaes Nimbus.

Ada sat up straight and moved her forefinger to-and-fro. No, no, the man is a liar!

How can you be so sure? Geerten wanted to know.

I will recognize the real Nicolaes Nimbus the moment I see him, she answered and quickly added, but I understand you have no idea what I am talking about. He saw her shivering. You rescued me, she repeated, and that is why you deserve an explanation. Fortunetellers, the real visionaries, take their profession very seriously. All you can think up is already there. The past races away behind us, the future flies in front of us, and somewhere in the far distance they come together full circle. You can dream up everything and you can know everything. For most people this sounds crazy, for a small group it is a possibility, for us, it is a fact, we deal with it on a daily basis. Do you follow me, Geerten?

More or less…

Real fortune-tellers needn’t fear anything. The charlatans among, things are quite different for them. Nicolaes Nimbus is a man of all times and when he turns up somewhere, it will be to punish someone for his boiler-room operation.

What or who is a man of all times? Geerten interrupted her.

…Someone who is always there, there yesterday, tomorrow or a hundred years ago, perhaps a hundred years later. Nicolaes Nimbus is the macabre joke, worse than a satyr; he is someone with devilish traits. Thijs Raes must have heard about him. He might be a fortune-teller himself who doesn’t take his customers very seriously, telling them what they want to hear to diddle them out of their money. He wanted to scare me, which he did. He accused me of evil practices and demanded hush money. That was what he was after – money! Now you know what was going on. You’d best forget that name; it is of no use for you. I would appreciate it if you’d stay for a time, I will order some wine and see to it that we eat a good meal. Let this subject be, talk about other things…

About two hours later Geerten took leave of the fortuneteller, picking the cane up and taking it as a keepsake.

Ada Reed had given him good advice. He printed the books and published them. Leiden wasn’t shaken to its foundations. Anyone able to read, laying a hand on the books, either found the contents revolting or agreed with the authors. The whole affair was no more than a ripple in the pond, caused by a tiny stone. Life went on.



Free interpretation of an article from the archives of The Society of Tamfana.

Place: North Holland, The Netherlands. Time: Around 1950.

Her stage name was Mea Culpa (Latin for my fault) and she had the gift of faultless intuition. Even before someone said a single word, she received a torrent of information by looking at the person concerned only: attitude, look, the shape of face and fingers, their way of moving, clothes, hair, even their way of breathing. Her first impression always turned out to be the right one and the thoughts of the visitor were heard by her as if she was able to hear what was never said. Mea could dig into someone’s past and see what was bound to happen in their future. Thanks to these miraculous gifts she had become rich. She abused information she received through her paranormal ways, she manipulated, intrigued, and blackmailed.

Businessmen and high government officials who asked for advice when they had to make difficult decisions soon became dependent on her guidance. She discovered lots of facts about them that should have remained secret forever. Mea was a fortuneteller who used black magic, nothing was off-limits for her to enrich herself. Having power over people gave her energy. Once a year at least she left her big canal house in Amsterdam to set up a fairground attraction. For seven days she sat in a big booth predicting the future of customers, using her crystal ball. She honed her skills, finding useful information as quickly as possible, staying alert as long as possible, and sharpening her special gifts. She only asked but a single guilder for her services, forcing herself to advise every visitor in less than five minutes.

She scared the hell out of everyone by describing secrets in short sentences:

You broke into your neighbor’s house and stole money. Someone else got blamed for it.

She has passed away, your wife… You loved another woman when she was still alive.

Your husband doesn’t know your daughter isn’t his child.

Again and again you take money from your employer. Watch out, he is keeping an eye on you.

Did you push someone? Have you murdered someone?

There is that letter you’d better tear to pieces before someone finds it.

While she spoke her big, dark brown eyes stared into the crystal ball; with every move of her head her long, black curls swung back-and-forth. And over and over again she showed her beautiful white teeth when she looked up, smiling, knowing she was right, having uncovered another deep dark secret.

Then she held up her hand, saying, Give me money. You don’t even have to confess because I already know everything. When I forgive you, here and now, all your sins will be washed away.

Those with no money left in tears, full of fear and more than often so sick that they had to throw-up not much later behind a shooting gallery or a haunted house; those who paid a sufficient number of guilders left feeling relieved.



Five years after the Second World War fair days were celebrated exuberantly. Mea Culpa put up her booth on the square of a town in North Holland – it might have been Hoorn, Naarden, Den Helder, Enkhuizen, or Beverwijk, or perhaps somewhere in her own Amsterdam. The fairground people arrived in big trucks, many of their attractions were brand new, there were no villages of dwarfs or four-breasted women, but there was a boxing booth still where everyone with enough guts got invited to step into the ring and try to take down a tough fairground fighter. People enjoyed riding bumper cars, the Ferris wheel, the merry-go-round, throwing 10-cent Euros (dubbeltjes) in gambling machines, eating and drinking, being enchanted by the amazing jumble of movement, surprise, colors, scents, and ear-splitting noise.

A man shuffled along without looking around. He had put up the collar of his coat, the brim of his hat cast a shadow over his eyes. With his hands in his pockets, he went past the try-your-luck he-man attraction and a pastry stall. When he walked by the house of mirrors, he looked to the left and stepped inside. He hadn’t bought a ticket, but no one stopped him. He didn’t laugh along with the children and the adults standing in front of the mirrors, looking at their transformed images. Slowly, he leaned forward to study a skinny version of himself, seemingly fascinated by the impalpable world behind the glass. He stood there for a long time, till an impatient visitor nudged him, saying, It’s my turn, don’t you think so?

He moved to the next mirror. He remained standing there looking at his pseudo-fat self until he got pushed away. Ten minutes later he left and found his way between the crowd heading to the next attraction, Mea Culpa, Fortune-teller.

The man did not wait his turn in line. The moment a sad-looking woman with tears in her eyes stepped outside, he slipped in.

Mea sat down at a round table, stroking the surface of a crystal ball with her fingertips. She didn’t know her new visitor but she sat up with a start and her jaw dropped when he took off his hat and greeted her, Mea Culpa, he said in a deep dark voice, It’s about time I came.

Now she knew who he was. Please, have mercy… she stammered.

Mea Culpa, you have only used your unique talents to enrich yourself, you have ruined the life of countless people. My name is Nicolaes Nimbus, I have come here to teach you a lesson.



The next visitor, a middle-aged nervous woman, found two empty chairs in the booth. She heard sounds she could not place coming from behind a curtain. Sitting down at the little round table, she noticed a black Bakelite phone in the middle, no cord, no plug, just the phone. The women looked around skittishly… A phone all by itself and I wonder who’s behind that curtain? I don’t see a crystal ball either? All of a sudden she took the receiver from the hook and started dialing numbers with the forefinger of her left hand.

Not much later a clear voice sounded in her ear, Henriëtte, so glad that you are here. I have some important things to tell you.

Henriëtte listened, fascinated by the powerful voice on the other end of the line. Wherever that is? She tried to relax, soon she felt totally at ease. No longer wondering who was talking to her, she let the words sink in.

Her character was revealed in flowing sentences, her fears were mentioned, explained, and wiped out. After a couple of minutes, she placed the receiver back on the hook, rose to her feet, and left the booth with a smile on her face.

I am a totally different person now! she shouted to the people standing in line. Life is beautiful and I will be able to enjoy it for many, many years to come!

Not much later, a young man entered the booth. He listened patiently to the sounds coming from behind the curtain and tried to guess what it was, perhaps a strangled cry, shuffling feet, the creaking of moving hinges, tapping on wood, knuckles knocking on glass. I think my imagination is running away with me. On a whim, he picked up the receiver and dialed an arbitrary number.

Hello, Maarten, he heard, how nice of you to come …

Tens of people sat down at the little table that day, felt the urge to pick up the receiver and press it to their ear. Listening to the voice, they were overwhelmed by an intense feeling of happiness and when they left the booth, they understood themselves better, became reconciled with all the mistakes they made and faced the future with confidence.



White Dirk, a man with hair as white as snow, walked to Mea Culpa’s booth for reasons unknown even to himself. He was the owner of the Ferris wheel. After he’d had coffee he’d gone back to the fairground walking past the attractions watching the gondolas of his Ferris wheel, high