by James Hudson
So, what do I actually initiate when I want to make some money? I create developments. I create international scandals that would affect the stock and commodity prices. As I said before, traders, middle-class people believe everything happens by accident. Hell, no!
It’s all in my hands and the hands of very influential financial groups.
Just imagine the situation when a CEO is going to announce the financial quarter results. His deputies certainly know these results before mass media publish them. Or it’s not a CEO but a President of the European Central Bank or the Chairman of the Federal Reserve, and they disclose a decision to raise or to lower interest rates.
Or imagine you are a poor reporter, and you are the first person to know that a nuclear disaster has just happened in Fukushima in Japan. What would you do? Tell the world about it as fast as possible? Hell, no! If you’re smart enough, you grab your cell phone, run the application, and sell stocks and indexes, using leverage. In a couple of minutes, you’d make a lot of money.
From this perspective, can we call the mass media the fourth power? Partly. Because they can just avail themselves of the opportunity to make money. But they are not creators or rulers of this world. If market players want to deceive everyone, they will do it anyway. So, we, big traders, investors, hedge funds, can speculate in financial markets. And we love to do it.”
George Hartley stopped talking, waiting for the reaction.
Hoon Kwak was silent. Then he suggested a drink again.
“Your business bears a high risk. It’s illegal, I guess.”
“Yes. There exists an insider trading policy,” George Hartley grinned. “But most of the time, I don’t use inside information – I create occasions! Every year, the number of billionaires increases. The financial markets exist due to the money that moves from one pocket to another. Poor people who don’t control the situation are the victims of the rich people—”
“All right! Tell me what you want me to do?” Hoon Kwak exclaimed.
Yes, he was on the hook.
“OK. Listen to me. You probably won’t like what I’m gonna tell you. You think you’re independent, but actually, you are not. I don’t mean you own all these cars, yachts, planes… I mean, you’re psychologically vulnerable. When the USA or the European Union imposed sanctions against North Korea, your reaction was very, very predictable, man. You’re always aggressive. You’re narrow-minded. Your team is utterly humorless. You launch missiles or test weapons or threaten to use a nuclear weapon. Your population lives in a state of fear. They study at the universities in order to produce weapons of mass destruction. Your ancestors were primitive animals who just wanted to kill, kill, kill…”
“Shut up!” Hoon Kwak roared as loud as he could.
The girl-translator moaned.
Then something fell on the floor and smashed.
“Get the fuck out!” Hoon Kwak shouted.
Someone slammed the door. We heard quick steps approaching.
15. What happened after North Korea?
After George Hartley left the palace, he ordered to get him to the airport. As the security guards returned his cell phone, he immediately called his deputy in London. The private jet took off. We think he used an Internet connection on his jet. He would hardly use the North Korean cellular network.
“Gold! Buy fucking gold!” he exclaimed. “And sell Asian markets. Yeah… It worked out very well. Hoon Kwak is infuriated. Ha, ha! He’ll definitely do some trick tomorrow. Something terrible. I advised him to impress that basketball player. Also, I humiliated his relatives and ancestors twice. What will be his first psychological reaction? Anger! He’s gonna show everyone that he’s cute. Jeez, he’s so predictable! I bet, South Korea… Remember my words! He’s very, very angry. He’s gonna launch a missile toward South Korea tonight. So, the Asian markets will plunge. Sell, sell, sell!”
And there it is.
The next morning, Hoon Kwak delivered an ultimatum to President of the USA. He wanted all economic sanctions against North Korea lifted. Failing that, Hoon Kwak would execute a nuclear strike against Washington.
The Asian markets immediately crashed. Every trader is afraid of war. War means chaos, economic meltdown, losses.
George Hartley wasn’t mistaken about gold. Gold had been a haven asset for a long time. When something terrible happened, people had often bought gold. Recently the situation started to change.
You may ask what was actually the point of the visit of George Hartley to this dangerous country? George Hartley loves adventures and risk and always dares do something nobody would ever do.
So, according to our estimates, George Hartley made 12 million dollars. The European and American reporters went crazy about the danger of potential escalation of conflict between North Korea and the United States. Hundreds of politicians expressed resentment toward Hoon Kwak. At last, the American President agreed to meet with the North Korean leader. I bet George Hartley wasn’t interested in what happened next. He did his job and obtained a result.
The trip of George Hartley impressed us very much. We continued collecting information about his activity.
16. Trip to Saudi Arabia
We’d been watching the employees of George Hartley’s company for a week. Taking pictures of them and examining their faces then, we quickly selected two persons who caught our interest. The first person – a young man – turned out to be a system administrator who worked on the 37th floor of the skyscraper. He could hardly restrain his anger toward George Hartley. But we needed someone else – who would be involved in business affairs, someone close to George Hartley.
So, the second person who drew our attention was a woman about thirty-five. Unexpectedly, it was a disabled woman in a wheelchair. Her name was Emma Robinson. We met her one day in the mall. It was a weekend. We offered her help – the wheel of her wheelchair was broken. Yes, the counterintelligence agents knew when it was the best moment to come out of the blue. She was very thankful.
When we mentioned George Hartley, her eyes sparkled in hatred. She had been working with him for many years. Emma Robinson was a smart, intelligent woman, with a splendid knowledge of world economy and foreign politics. Sitting in a wheelchair, you either go nuts or you begin getting smart.
To tell the truth, we were amazed when she easily agreed to spy on George Hartley and leak discrediting information about his activity to us. She had already collected something interesting about her boss. Certainly, we couldn’t rely on those facts without checking the information – Emma was Hartley’s right-hand woman. But when she provided us with one audio recording, we put it all together and concluded that the information was authentic.
So, George Hartley had made a trip to Saudi Arabia. And we had no chance to record him. But when he came back to London, he immediately called Emma into his office. Emma Robinson walked in and started recording the conversation.
Here’s what we heard.
“Emma, you want some coffee?” George Hartley asked in a hospitable tone.
Wheelchair wheels rolled across the marble floor.
“A cup of tea, George! And you?”
“Irish coffee.”
We distinctly heard a clatter of cups and spoons. George Hartley was making drinks by himself. Later, Emma Robinson confirmed this fact. Was he afraid of being poisoned? Didn’t he trust his secretary who was supposed to do this job? We don’t know that.
“So, Emma, yesterday I went back from Saudi Arabia. A hell of a journey, I must say. Goddamn place!”
Emma grinned. “Why? Warm weather, luxurious cars—”
“First of all, I love London weather. It’s so easy to work when the wind blows, and the rain doesn’t stop for weeks. Unlike you, I hate the heat. Yesterday, I broke into a sweat five or six times, despite the air-conditioners almost everywhere. Flying back in my jet, I was stinking like a skunk! Imagine that you have to work out in the gym when it’s 110°F!
Emma laughed cheerfully.
“My
brain started melting when I had to wait for some guys outside—”
“You were waiting for someone?” Emma asked in surprise.
“Yeah. But first, I’ll tell you how I met with the CEO of the Saudi Arabian Oil Company. His name is Majid Hassan. As you can remember, I’d written him two letters before the trip. I wanted him to make a false statement regarding his oil company. That could cause mayhem, and we could make money from the oil price change. But this motherfucker ignored my letter!
Then I warned him that I would meet with his competitor. He replied immediately and said he was sorry and that he would be pleased to meet with me at his headquarters in Dhahran. It’s a city in the eastern part of Saudi Arabia.
So, my jet landed in Riyadh – the capital of the country. The local authorities didn’t let me fly over the territory right to the headquarters. I had to cover a distance of 250 miles. They offered me to get on a little plane to Dhahran. I followed their advice. To go by car through that dusty deserts would’ve been insane.”
Emma chuckled. “So, your first impression was bad, huh?”
“Desert, desert, desert! Sand everywhere! Well… the capital was nice. But when you leave the city—”
“What were you afraid of?” Emma giggled.
“One thing… horrified me,” George Hartley muttered quietly. “I realized this was an entirely different culture but… that horrendous clothes… I don’t judge people. Probably, they are kind and open-hearted. But how on Earth they put on those awful hijabs and niqabs? The local women just terrified me. I still shudder in disgust when I see these women on the streets of London. But in the Middle East, they are everywhere! I bet their husbands shouldn’t worry at all. Nobody would ever desire to touch these creatures… They are even more dreadful than zombies on Halloween.
Emma burst out laughing.
“You’re definitely not tolerant, George!”
“I like classy European women, Italian clothing, fashion… But those black robes are hideous! Those women look like executioners or assassins.”
“Come on, George!” Emma exclaimed. “Let’s talk business!”
“Yeah… So, I met with Majid Hassan in the headquarters. He turned out to be a very communicative person. And he’s an incredibly rich man. His company made more than 100 billion dollars last year.
“Oh, what could we propose to him, I wonder?” Emma smiled. “He would hardly be interested in our millions.”
“Bull’s eye, Emma! Beyond our capacity. He laughed when he heard the sum. Even if we sold the whole wing of this skyscraper, he wouldn’t take us seriously.”
“I see. I guess only Americans are able to cooperate with him.”
“Exactly! I bet he’d already closed a deal with the Americans before my visit. He looked so confident, so calm. He was like a woman who had been poor for many years and then suddenly married a millionaire.”
Emma grinned.
“Well, the Americans import Saudi Arabian oil,” she said. “They can’t totally replace it. That’s why Mr. Hassan cooperates with the Americans.”
“That makes sense,” George Hartley agreed.
“Mr. Hassan feels like a king.”
“Nah, I don’t think so. The biggest American military base in the Middle East is located in Qatar just 150-200 miles from the Saudi Arabian Oil Company and oil fields. The Americans keep the whole region on the hook.
The other reason Majid Hassan didn’t want to cooperate with us was that we had different plans. He expected oil prices to plunge. But I wanted them to rise. If their state-controlled media announced the intentions of the Saudi Arabian government to reduce crude oil output, that would be a signal for the markets to sell. You know, Emma, to produce fake news or to announce something and then suddenly alter the decision is very effective. You just need to be a high official, and you can speculate in the financial markets.
The main issue for any financial fund is to come into contact with elites and politicians.”
“That’s what you’ve been doing for many years,” Emma said thoughtfully.
“You’re right. I do love my job,” George Hartley laughed.
“By the way, you weren’t afraid of going to totalitarian North Korea, but you were struck with fear when you saw Saudi women in hijabs,” Emma said in a derisive tone. “How is it possible?”
“I’ll explain,” George Hartley replied. “I perceive women as weak creatures. They arouse me when they are gentle, fragile roses. You’re a feminist, Emma. You’ll never understand me. I’m so close to human nature. And you’re not! You’ll never understand why I enjoy turning into a wild animal.”
“Oh, Jesus!” Emma burst out laughing.
“Sometimes I’m ready to swallow women,” George Hartley went on.
“Oh, I should warn the women in our skyscraper!”
“I didn’t feel that when born. I mean, I used to bend to the will of women for a long time. They controlled my mind, my behavior, my sexual desires.”
“You’re scaring me.”
“But then I noticed that women who controlled me were unhappy. Don’t laugh, Emma! When women are not under control, they don’t feel satisfied. They always look for free, uncontrollable, and unpredictable men.”
“Like you?”
“Dear Emma, I realized that I could control the whole world when I became independent of women. When you can control women, you can easily control men. I tasted absolute power when my parents died.”
“Cruel!”
“Yeah, but at that moment, I felt that I could lie under the power of some woman, start a family, become an obedient family guy. Or I could become a financial tycoon, one of the puppet masters, grey cardinals. You know what I chose.”
Emma grinned.
“Oh, yeah. You’re so strong, Emma, even sitting in this goddamn wheelchair… Strong and independent. You don’t attract me completely!”
“Fuck you!” Emma giggled.
“You don’t affect my inner nature,” George Hartley whispered.
“You’re crazy!” she suddenly said in a cold tone. “You actually know what happened to my spine, and why I can’t walk.”
“All right! Let’s get back to business. I left the headquarters and returned to my private jet in Riyadh.”
“So, you gave up? Majid Hassan fucked you over?”
“No! I ordered my pilot to fly to Yemen.”
17. Trip to Yemen
“What did you do in Yemen?” Emma Robinson asked. “Meet with the competitors of Majid Hassan?”
“Well… not exactly. His enemies. I was going to pay a visit to Houthis. Their headquarters was located in Sanaa – the capital of Yemen. The country is impoverished. I felt very uncomfortable. So, when we landed, I called the man from that… clandestine organization. They identify themselves as Houthis. I don’t know who those people actually were – some military unit. I don’t care whether they were fundamental Islamists or moderate Shiites. I knew they hated Saudi Arabia, and the other world as well. And everybody hates them. That was enough for me.”
“Do they have allies?”
“Iran, North Korea, Syria… Rogue states, you know. But Houthis are not alone in this world – they are supplied with weapons.”
“Anyway, it must be hard to live when everyone wants you dead,” Emma grinned.
“Well, a lot of people want me dead!” George Hartley exclaimed. “But I don’t complain. So, when I got to their headquarters, they kept me waiting.”
“You came there on foot?” Emma asked.
“No. A cab delivered me there.”
“You’re kidding!”
“No. I paid the driver 1000 dollars. He was ready to do absolutely everything for me. But he knew where we were coming. He knew it would be dangerous. Unfortunately, the air conditioner in the cab was broken. I nearly fainted because of the heat. I even remembered how I’d visited several states in Western Africa once. That was unforgettable. I believe that there are some kind and honest people in the Central
African Republic or Uganda, but once they shout, “Go away white bastard! Die, you white son of a bitch!” I don’t feel safe in such places. I wanna say that Houthis seemed even more dangerous. They really wanted capitalism destroyed.”
“Like North Korean leader?”
“No, Emma. Houthis really mean it. They don’t need the material amenities of modern life. Their eyes sparkle with anger and hatred.”
“And you had to deal with them, right?”
“Yes. When the cab drove me up to the place, about twenty armed guys surrounded us. They spotted me – the white man inside the car. I tried to keep a cool head, rolled down the window, and explained to them that I wanted to meet with their leader. They laughed at me! I knew I shouldn’t get angry. They were like a pack of wolves surrounding a poor lamb.
I pulled out my cell phone, and they barely shot me! They thought I was going to set off an explosive. I turned on the speaker, calling their leader. But that moron didn’t pick up the phone. So, the armed guys didn’t believe me.”
“And what did you do?” Emma asked.
“I told them that if their leader didn’t come in three minutes, I’d blow up the whole place. I added that the cab was loaded with explosives.”
“Wow! You’re a real man!” Emma said with admiration.
“You bet! They believed me! Although the taxi driver started crying and moaning, begging to let him go, I clenched my teeth and started waiting.
In two minutes, their leader Abdullah invited me inside the building. Certainly, he knew I was coming. They just wanted to test my guts. Bastards!”
“But you successfully passed the test, didn’t you?” Emma asked cheerfully.
“What do you think? Of course!”
“So, what did Abdullah look like?”
“He’s a tall, bald, bearded military man with a very deep voice. He despises luxury. Harsh discipline is above all. He really hated everyone who didn’t support his ideology. You can read on Wikipedia that Houthis are people who just hate everyone – Americans, Europeans, most Asians – and you won’t believe it. But actually, they really hate them. They are completely different people. They can’t live without hating someone. Nowadays, some people are online haters – they write nasty things on the Internet. But they can be decent people in real life. Houthis hate you when you look into their eyes.