"I've been waiting for your call. Is everything ok? What happened and where are you?" she asked, firing off question after question.
"I've much to tell you, but I was hoping to do that in person."
Nicole wanted to warn him about the Police and that they were looking for him. If she said anything now and they were listening, then they’ll know she was lying, so she kept quiet.
"Do you want to meet me somewhere?" she asked.
"No, it's not necessary, but Nicole I need to ask you something and it's a big one."
Whatever is was, it did not matter, she loved him.
"I need your help again, and this time it's not just me."
All the warning bells began to ring in Nicole's head. She felt for sure that this time she was getting involved in something far more dangerous than she first imagined. Yet, if she said no, then she would never see him again, and that truth was far more overwhelming to her than anything else.
"You know I'll help you….. just say where and when."
There was silence for a moment as he was thinking, she could feel it.
"Are you still there?" she asked. She could not wait any longer.
"Ok, here goes and I hope you won't be upset, but we're already here, and you know what I mean!"
This was the last thing she expected.
"I'm on my way, and you know, you really spin me around."
Chapter 13
'Terrorist attacks can shake the foundations of our biggest buildings but they cannot touch the foundation of America. These acts shatter steel but they cannot dent the steel American resolve...
A dictatorship would be a heck of a lot easier; there is no question about it."
George W. Bush
Gravel was churned up by the speeding thoroughbred, racing along the narrow pathway which meandered through the country estate. Striking the horse repeatedly was a girl barely out of her teens. Pulling hard at the reins, the gray horse suddenly changed direction and headed for the wooden fence, gliding effortlessly over like a graceful ballerina. Bloodlines and training made it simple. A born jumper bred to perfection, a genetic masterpiece. Not far behind, the security guards followed on quad bikes, keeping a respectful distance, close but always out of sight. That was the order.
Weekends at the Barchevski private residence was the only time for true rest and reflection, yet Vargän preferred the quiet of the estate more than his official residence forty kilometers away in Brussels. He had occupied this office for the last eighteen months, with another year and a half left as Chancellor of the UWN. Rest would be something his active mind could never do, always thinking and planning. It was meeting after meeting, the work never stopped. Yet, behind the scenes, away from prying eyes, here he set the plans in motion.
Galloping into the open courtyard was Katiyana on her new Arabian gelding, a gift from the Royal Saudi family. The way to the King is always through the daughters, and the Queen through the sons. Hooves grinding to a halt over the paved stones, Katiyana dismounted the exhausted beast, now foaming at the mouth. It was quickly taken by a stable hand and lead away as she rushed upstairs to her father's private office. Security guards stood back, they knew her by sound and reputation.
In the common world she was everyone's celebrity princess. Yet, others in the inner circle knew her as a manipulating, pampered brat with no grasp on reality at all. Vargän spoiled her far too much, as any father would in his position. Her mother, Claudia, only added to the attention she was accustomed to getting. In many ways she was much like her mother. Barging into Vargän's office, she ignored the visitor and greeted her father with a good morning kiss.
"Ambassador Raphaely, I'd like to introduce you to my daughter, Katiyana," Vargän said.
The tone in his voice was one of love and pride.
"I'm pleased to meet you, Ambassador", she said, not really paying attention to the guests anymore.
"Daddy, I broke my record today, so I win the bet," she said, almost teasing him. The guards would confirm her time; everyone knew she was a competitive maniac. Katiyana Barchevski had broken the law many times, usually minor things, like speeding in her Audi convertible, another gift from the German auto-manufacturing company. This achievement would no doubt cost Vargän something, as the competitive streak between them was strong.
"I just had to tell you, Daddy," Katiyana said.
With that she excused herself.
"My daughter," Vargän said. "She lives in a totally different world from us. It was just the other day she learned to ride a bicycle for the first time. Now she rides horses better than I do."
The two laughed. As parents they had common ground; as leaders, they had none.
"Candice, let me take you on a tour around the estate. We can walk and talk at the same time."
The guards snapped to attention when they came out of his office. Lucia did not; he continued talking on the phone while he followed them only a few meters behind. It was not in his job description to spy on the Ambassador but with his access it may come in handy at a later stage. Ambassador Raphaely however paid no attention, and merely assumed he was head of Vargän's personal security.
Walking into the open courtyard, the security alert had been raised to the next level. Inside the main house, behind bullet proof glass and steel reinforced walls, Vargän was safe. In the open, he was a sitting duck. Still, he insisted on living as normal a life as possible. Lucia knew this, trailing no more than ten meters behind Vargän, well within listening distance. Others could listen too, so special jammers had been installed around the complex to confuse signals. Security at this level required a team of highly trained specialists, far too much at stake.
Ambassador Raphaely was cautious around Vargän, who held more power than the President under whom she served.
"So, tell me honestly, Candice, why is it the United States still longs to regain her place as the leader of the free world? You and I both know, that’ll never happen again," Vargän said. "Like all other super-powers, her time has come and gone."
She did not need to hear this from a man who still spoke with a slight Russian accent. The American Ambassador knew the status quo of world politics and who carried the most clout now. Yet, the world had not really changed that much. People wanted the same things, no matter from what part of the world they came from. America had remained a powerful nation; internal struggles had weakened her democracy but her stock pile of nuclear weapons had endured.
It was just a precautionary measure. Great Britain had finally succumbed to the United World of Nations. The UWN was now the new super-power and it stretched its military, and more importantly, its economic influence, over seventy percent of the world.
Vargän put his hand on Ambassador Raphaely's shoulder.
"I want us to work together," he said. "It's about time the idea of separate nations became a thing of the past; so many wars have already been fought. As one world, and one family, we can bring humanity forward towards an age of enlightenment. We are not separate nations anymore as we all affect each other, and you must understand that."
They stood arm in arm, looking out over the sculptured gardens; centuries of dedicated work.
"This estate existed before America was even discovered. Did I mention that to you?" Vargän said.
Many influential families could trace their ancestors from those who once lived between these walls. It spoke of culture and design, of tradition and power beyond politics.
"Now, finally, let's begin," Vargän said, clearing his throat.
"What is the United States going to do with its surplus of grain this year? I really hope they're not going to dump it into the ocean, as they did last year, to keep the prices up."
This had been a common practice in stabilizing the grain market, as too much grain meant less demand and it drove the overall prices down. With high prices came high profits.
"I want that grain for our relief programs; you know we'll give you a good price for it."
"Chancellor, the
price offered is still far too low, and our farmers threaten to burn their fields if we sell it to the UWN at those low prices. We are now stuck between a rock and a hard place. You must understand, most of our farmers come from the Bible belt, and they're a difficult bunch to negotiate with."
"Yes, I have heard their vote secured President Rutherford the White House, but still, he needs to negotiate with them, or has he lost all his influence?" Vargän asked. "Perhaps your farmers should be reminded that any man-made fires on that scale will cause untold damage to our fragile ozone and if they set these fires then surely they will be punished by the World Court."
"I am sorry, Chancellor."
"No Candice, please call me Vargän," he said.
"Sorry, Vargän, the problem is they do not recognize the World Court, at all."
"Oh, I heard that too." Vargän smiled again as they began walking towards the stables.
"Then get President Rutherford to convince Congress to change the law. Remember, polluting the atmosphere, which, let me remind you the United States of America has been the biggest culprit, is something the UWN feels very strongly about. Our air is not their dumping ground, so the USA better clean up their act or else their trading status with the UWN will be canceled," Vargän replied as Candice withdrew her arm from Vargän's hold.
"Canceled?" Candice exclaimed.
"Regrettably, yes Ambassador, with no exceptions."
"You cannot do that Vargän. Our manufacturing industries have contracts with many major European companies, and they will sue, for sure," she replied.
"Ah, yes, Europe does not exist anymore, it has evolved and outgrown the United States, and the UWN will determine the conditions of trade. Either America conforms to the new set of standards, or she will carry the consequences as she did during the Great Depression of 1932. So, I am sorry but that is the way it is," Vargän said, this time without a smile.
"Is that a threat, Chancellor?" she said, referring to his office.
"No, Ambassador, it's our policy of Global Reform. One that will guarantee our very survival. You do understand that for every action there is a reaction; elementary physics, yet it applies throughout life."
Lucia followed them at a distance. The American Ambassador probably did not remember him, but he remembered her. They had met many years ago at a Bilderberg conference in Madrid. Lucia knew back then that she would be the American Ambassador to the European Union. They shared the same lunch with David de Rothschild and Warren Buffett; at that time the two most powerful people in the world.
Candice Raphaely had been there too; her appointment as the American Ambassador to the UWN was already on the cards. She too, like Vargän, had been carefully groomed. But how times have changed and now, once again, Lucia had been positioned on the side of power as he strolled a few paces behind the most powerful man on the planet.
"Let me just remind you that our silence regarding the September 11th event is not unconditional. If we were to release all our own findings regarding the facts, your people will revolt against your Government and you would have another civil war on your hands."
Ambassador Raphaely went a paler shade of white.
"Not to mention the host of sanctions and fines imposed on the United States for toppling three countries they suspected of terrorist attacks. The fines imposed on Germany for World War II would pale in comparison to what would be imposed on the USA. Really Ambassador, we have kept quiet about this for far too long. What on earth did those in the Bush Administration think would happen? People do not just forget.
You know the Biblical saying, don't you: your children's children will pay for your transgressions?" Vargän said.
From her reaction he could tell she had been unraveled. She knew she had to follow the lie the United States propaganda machine churned out.
"I mean, really, the evidence relating to the official 9/11 commission report is flawed. The unofficial story is far more compelling and truthful and points to an inside job. I for one have seen the reports and I believe it was a controlled demolition of all three buildings designed to cause worldwide panic. Steel buildings do not just fall unless they were carefully prepared with explosives. It would take meticulous planning and weeks to implement. But, let me just say it was actually building number seven that revealed the flaw in their plan. It was the only building neither hit by any planes nor had any major fire damage, but it fell like a pack of cards within hours. I believe and so do many of my advisors that the United States Government was behind the event"
Vargän was upset, as he felt the lie not only tainted those in the USA, but all those who knew the truth and chose to keep quiet. It was a crime against humanity to perpetuate a lie.
"The blatant arrogance and insult to the engineering and scientific community, who have all proven beyond any reasonable doubt that building number seven could not have fallen without a controlled demolition."
Once again the American Ambassador was silent, an acknowledgment of sorts. He wondered what she really knew about it.
"So, remind your President of his next elections and whether he wishes to explain to the international courts the discrepancies in the official 9/11 report. After all, as leader of his people, is he also not accountable to them for the lies? Because, I promise you, he knows the truth……. they all do."
Ambassador Raphaely's mission to the UWN had been disastrous. Not only had she failed in her bid to secure a massive bailout loan, but she had been out-played by a Russian.
"Candice, my dear, being part of our global family has certain benefits and requirements. The conditions are clear and it's for the greater good of all mankind, not just the USA. So, I think our silence should guarantee your co-operation."
Military might did not carry much weight either; the UWN had more weapons, soldiers and better technology than the United States of America, who was by all accounts broke. Yes, they would surely destroy each other in a total all-out war. But who would be foolish enough to use atomics again? Russia was now well embedded in the United World of Nations, so was Germany, France, the United Kingdom and India, now a nation of almost 2 billion strong.
The United World of Nations combined had more nuclear weapons than the United States, and the Russian-built super-rockets could reach any target in the world without being intercepted. The space race had now crippled the American economy, like the arms race did to the old USSR. With global markets all contributing to the coffers, the UWN had become the single most powerful empire, virtually overnight.
China was the wild card. It still traded heavily with the USA and the UWN, but they needed much cultural reform before they were ready to join the global community. Candice knew she would have to go back to the States empty-handed, another unsuccessful trade negotiation.
"You're right, Vargän; we are caught between a rock and a hard place," Ambassador Raphaely said.
"Situations always present themselves. Remember, we are more than willing to help the United States."
As Ambassador Raphaely's convoy drove away, Vargän knew President Rutherford would have to concede; the polls had indicated his popularity was at an all-time low. A war on terror was not going to give the USA access to the vast supplies of crude oil they so urgently needed to pay for their debts.
They would have to conform, or within no time they would have another civil revolution on their hands. Change after all, is inevitable. A a new society was being created; a global community with sweeping new reforms and changes which would guarantee the establishment of a New World Empire to rival all before it.
Perhaps Hitler did have a vision after all. Vargän thought.
Chapter 14
"They could be made to accept the most flagrant violations of reality and were not sufficiently
interested in public events to notice what was happening."
George Orwell, 1984
Once again the South Easter descended upon Cape Town, sending its icy cold wind gusting and howling down the narrow streets of Woodsto
ck, home of the down-trodden and desperate. Locals took refuge in their little nests, escaping from the cold, cruel world outside. Dmitri had already informed Kazak that the Nigerians were on their way. Kazak needed to keep his cool, especially in front of his men. But, nevertheless, he still suppressed the shudder that crept down his spine; there was something about these Africans that disturbed him.
Kazak was a racist. He had a strong dislike for the less cultured and felt that the Africans had only recently joined the human race, for countless centuries they ran around in animal skins while the Europeans had colonized the world, developed steam and electrical power, and contributed towards every major technological achievement that benefited modern man.
Yet, this new batch of Africans, they were different, showing a real talent for organized crime that bordered on genius.
Kazak's three storey warehouse was where he stored most of the merchandise he had bartered and traded over the years. It was a fortress-like building with only two entrances. Both were well manned by his staff. Parking in front of the main driveway was reserved, but the Nigerians blocked the entrance anyway as they pulled up in their large American cars. This meeting would be brief, both parties knew this.
On the monitors Kazak saw eight men getting out of the cars. Franklin himself had come and he was by far the fattest. This man consumed and consumed, feeding his greedy appetite, always requiring more and more. Restaurants and strip clubs were his special delight, but his network included all who fell within the family. In comparison, Kazak was poor, and he knew it!
Intimidation would be the way of the day. Kazak stood up and made his way downstairs to the ground floor lobby where Dmitri and his guards were waiting. They had strict orders to engage the Africans if they dared to venture upstairs. Some formal protocols still needed to be enforced.
Franklin was looking inside a glass cabinet, admiring the collection of silverware that Kazak had received as payment from an elderly Jewish man. They still had the Royal Navy emblem engraved on them, a priceless collection on display. Very few people would ever be able to afford this antique collection. Yet, it was on display with a variety of less impressive artifacts of old. For some unknown reason Franklin loved his antiques probably more than his wife, who spent most of her time in the health spas of the Western Cape and Europe. It was a marriage of power; his ascension to the throne, so to speak.
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