Graham thought for a second. “Let’s go with the Italian joint, drink a ton of red wine and go home and fuck all night.”
Sara shrugged then replied, “All right.”
“If privacy had a gravestone it might read: Don’t worry this was for your own good.”
– John Twelve Hawks
Chapter 7
West sat in the diner booth eating a greasy breakfast, trying to soak up some of the massive quantities of vodka he had consumed from the previous night. He had just started into the hash browns when a man dressed in a nice suit approached and sat down in the booth seat across from him. Whoever he was, he was definitely out of place in this joint.
“Can I help you?” West asked in irritation.
The man flashed a smile and for a second West experienced a wave of déjà vu. He felt like he had met him before, but couldn’t place when or where.
“Do you know Mr. Collins the average New Yorker is recorded by surveillance cameras over 500 times every single day? And flying above this city, right this second, there are hundreds of high altitude drones listening, watching, and recording everything we do. And that doesn’t even count all the electronic monitoring that goes on 24 hours a day.”
West set his fork down and stared over at the man.
“Do I know you?”
“Perhaps.”
West picked his fork back up and took a bite of the soggy hash browns. Based on the last couple of days with the agents and the Sloan episode, West should have assumed he was some type of agent, but for some reason he felt sure the man did not work for DC in any capacity.
West decided not to humor him by asking how he knew his name so instead he replied, “If you’re that concerned about being watched don’t leave your apartment.”
The man laughed. “Stay at home. That’s the easiest way for you to be monitored. Do you know there are surveillance devices that can see straight through buildings and can even record someone whispering inside a concrete fortified bunker?”
The man looked around the diner and then pointed up toward the ceiling. “Who knows, they might be recording you this very second. Yeah, staying home is just about the worst thing you can do because almost everyone has a SmartLink System.”
“Man, can you just please let me eat in peace?”
The man ignored the question and continued, “Damn smart of The System. Give every household a free SmartLink device that bundles all your phones, computers, televisions, security system, utilities, and entertainment into one easy-to-use home system. Of course, besides being electronically connected the most important selling point is that the SmartLink is free. I guess most people don’t realize or care that SmartLink is micro-chipped and The System records everything you do. And I mean everything. It knows when you’re home. What time you leave. What time you come back. It knows who you’re calling and whose calling you. Did you know that the SmartLink records every phone conversation you have and sends it to the NSA’s Motherland Mainframe for storage?”
West grunted then swallowed a mouthful of what he hoped were just runny eggs. “So move to another country and leave me the hell alone.”
“You know nobody except DCers can leave this country. You’re trapped here. Did you know the SmartLink monitors the TV shows you watch? It records everything you do on your computers. What time you go to bed and wake up. It knows what temperature you set your thermostat. Heck, it even knows how many times a day you use the restroom, unless you don’t flush.”
“Okay … okay,” West broke in. “Look, I’m eating here. There are plenty of empty tables. Could you please move somewhere else?”
“No problem but don’t you at least want to know how I knew your name?”
“I don’t care. Go sit somewhere else before I call the manager.”
The man raised both his hands. “Hey take it easy, Sloan wanted me to get in touch with you if something happened to him. Here take my card. Call me if you need me.”
The man handed him a crinkled business card with the words BYRON typed in the middle and a telephone number handwritten underneath. He got up and turned to leave.
“Hey wait, come back here,” West looked around the diner. “Sit down.”
Byron sat back down in the booth and the waitress came over and asked, “Refill on coffee?”
“Please,” West answered.
He watched as she poured the coffee and left. It occurred to him that it was strange the waitress didn’t ask Byron if he wanted anything. In fact, she acted like he wasn’t even there.
“So do I call you Lord Byron or is just Byron okay?” he asked.
“Byron is fine.”
“So how’d you know Sloan?”
“That’s a little complicated but you could say I was kind of like his guardian angel.”
“Oh, so you’re doing God’s work, huh?”
He smiled. “I don’t know about that but Sloan was a good man. He was very sympathetic to the LT’s.”
West almost choked on the toast he was eating. “Keep it down. You know just being affiliated with the LT’s is a capital offense.”
“I understand. So I take it from your interaction with Sloan you know about the Dracun.”
There was that strange name again, the Dracun. Both the anonymous letter and the book Sloan had given him had mentioned them.
West forced himself to take a deep breath then asked, “I’m sure you know a lot more than I do so why don’t you tell me what you know about the Dracun?”
“I believe the proper name is Dracunculus Medinesis. The science books refer to it as a parasite dependent on its hosts to survive. This parasite doesn’t kill the host because it needs it in order to survive but it can only survive at the expense of its host.”
“Okay,” West interrupted. “What does this have to do with me?”
“The Dracun is an entity that has morphed into a type of parasitic organism. Actually, it is a macro-parasite because it needs multiple hosts in order to survive but it has evolved into a perfect freak of nature that has become almost impossible to destroy. It is out of control and even its creators can’t stop it now.”
Byron looked around the room and continued. “Everyone in this room is the Dracun’s host. It needs people to survive but any one individual is expendable if the parasite thinks its power is in jeopardy. But that’s why it is so powerful, because there are billions and billions of hosts available, any of which can be discarded with no harm to the parasite.”
“Okay, I get the analogy. Just tell me exactly who or what this Dracun is and what it has to do with me?”
“Long ago the Dracun were given certain benefits but regretfully they were allowed to gain too much strength and they are not controllable anymore. In a nutshell, they are civilization’s shadow lords who have come to control this world.”
West stared across the table at Byron. “I don’t care about any of that bullshit, you haven’t answered my question. How do you know Sloan and what does this have to do with me?”
Byron scanned the room then quickly reached into his jacket and slid across a rolled up newspaper.
“Now is not the time or place. Inside the paper is a phone. It is untraceable and cannot be monitored, at least for a few minutes. It can only be used once, then destroy it. If you need me, call that number I gave you.”
“Why would I need to call you?”
“You and Sloan are similar in an unusual way. But a word of caution, I have reason to believe you have been flagged by the Dracun, probably because of your relationship with Sloan. The good news is that I am pretty sure they don’t know the extent of your involvement but if they find out…”
“Involvement,” West interrupted. “But I haven’t done a damn thing.”
“Are you familiar with the concept of entanglement?”
“No,” West answered.
“It’s what binds the universe together. Entanglement is what connects all of us together and to The One.”
“What in the hel
l are you talking about?”
“I’ve got to go for now but I’ll be watching out for you. We’ll talk later.”
Byron stood and West thought about asking him to stay longer but thought better of it. He watched Byron or whoever the hell he was leave the diner. He had lost his appetite so he paid for his half-eaten breakfast with his electronic money card and headed to the office.
“The high office of the president has been used to foment a plot to destroy American’s freedom and before I leave office, I must inform the citizens of their plight.”
– JFK, six months before his assassination
Chapter 8
West sat at his desk in the newsroom double checking the 50th anniversary of the Wow! Signal article one last time. Once he was satisfied with the drivel he had written he walked over to Simon’s office and threw the article on his desk.
“There you go. I’m sure our readers will be on edge for the rest of the summer waiting for the aliens to signal us again.”
Simon smiled. “Sounds delightful. Hey, by the way I’ve been meaning to ask you something.”
“Yeah?”
“Did you do it?”
“Do what?” West asked.
“You know, did you kill that Sloan guy?”
“Man, you’re a piece of work. Look I’ve got something serious I want to talk to you about. I’ve got a great idea for a story.”
“Usually I don’t encourage my reporters to think for themselves, but what’s the pitch?”
“Well, first I’m asking you to keep an open mind and remember even the USA Today will occasionally print a serious article without too much distortion or propaganda in it.”
“First off the USA Today isn’t our competition,” Simon scoffed. “We don’t compete against Corporate Media propaganda syndicates. And second no one has actually purchased a copy of that newspaper in decades.”
“They claim to be the most read newspaper in the world.”
“Oh Jesus, West just tell me what your damn idea is so I can turn it down and get on with my day.”
“Okay. So as you now know, I knew Mark Sloan fairly well. Every bit of information he provided me during the first big meltdown in 2008 was completely accurate. And later his information also allowed me to connect the dots that Goldman Sachs was nothing more than a government-controlled hedge fund that was manipulating the world markets with advance information from the Federal Reserve.”
“C’mon everyone knows that. They are all one in the same. It has been a revolving door for decades. You’re in government then you go work for Goldman or you make it big at Goldman and you go to work for the government. Tell me something I don’t know.”
“Okay, but we’re getting away from the point. After Lehman collapsed I thought Sloan’s behavior was becoming strange, almost erratic.”
“And?”
“Well, he wanted me to pursue what I can only describe as some crazy worldwide conspiracy theory that got me thinking.”
“Oh dear god. Please don’t tell me you’ve been thinking.”
“Just listen for a second,” West rebutted. “What Sloan tried to tell me, well it’s turning into something much more. At the time I thought he was losing it but when I look back now, his behavior never really changed. It was just what he was suggesting sounded so crazy. He swore that the Federal Reserve was the financial wing or bank of some group called the Dracun.”
“Okay,” Simon interrupted holding out his hand. “Our readers like the word “conspiracy” but what’s the point? I mean, look West, I’ve told you this a thousand times–our readers want bullshit. They don’t want to read about monetary mumbo jumbo or the inner workings of some government agency. And they especially don’t want to be told the truth.”
“I understand all that but listen. When I started to look into what Sloan was telling me about the Fed, he said follow the money and the Federal Reserve is all about the money. So I started digging into the history of the Fed and its inner workings. Some of the dots started to connect but then, well you know, I started to have my troubles and I kind of just dropped it. But I did find out some things that are unbelievable about our country’s monetary system.”
“Like…?”
“First of all the Federal Reserve is not a government agency. It isn’t even part of the government. Congress does have some oversight but the Fed has never been fully and independently audited.”
“If it’s not part of the government then what the hell is it?”
“Well, let me start from the beginning and I’ll give you the quick overview of what I know, most of which can be found by anyone who researches it for themselves. First of all the Federal Reserve is a private entity with shareholders. Some people argue it is a quasi-semi-private, semi-government entity but the courts have consistently ruled it is a private entity.”
“You mean like a corporation?”
“Exactly.”
Simon looked skeptical and asked, “If it is a corporation then who are the shareholders?”
“I don’t know who they are today but I know who the original ones were. They were Rothschild Bank of London, Warburg Bank of Hamburg and Amsterdam, Lazard Brothers of Paris, Kuhn Loeb Bank of New York, Israel Moses Seif Banks of Italy, Goldman Sachs, Chase Manhattan and Lehman Brothers, which, of course, is now gone.”
“Well there you go. You’ve already shot down your argument because why would the Fed allow Lehman, supposedly one of its own, one of the ‘in guys’ in the monetary Wizard of Oz conspiracy scheme … Why would they let them go bust?”
“That is a good question. I don’t know that answer but it would be part of the story. Let me give you a bit of history about the Fed because that might help put a little perspective on it.”
Simon looked at his watch. “I have a lunch appointment with a stupid blond with enormous tits. You have two minutes.”
West began, “At the turn of the 20th century, America was growing at a phenomenal rate and a small group of the world’s most wealthy individuals correctly believed that America was where they should place their bets and it’s pretty clear how they intended to conquer the United States without firing a single shot. The patriarch of the most secretive, wealthiest, most powerful family dynasty the world has ever known was Mayer Rothschild and he described how to really control a country by saying, ‘let me issue and control a nation’s money, and I care not who writes the laws.’
“So the banking dynasties from Europe, represented by the Warburg’s and Rothschild’s, met in secret with representatives from the American industrial families of JP Morgan and Rockefeller. They organized secret meetings at an island off the Georgia coast called Jekyll Island owned by JP Morgan. There they laid the framework for the creation of a central bank they would control. Their strategy was to establish a banking cartel which by definition is a group of independently owned businesses which come together for the purpose of eliminating or reducing competition between themselves in order to enhance their profit margin.”
“Wait a second,” Simon interrupted. “If what you are saying is true how’d they ever hoodwink the United States into this deal?”
“Well, they had to be careful. They knew the American people wouldn’t stand for a central bank controlled by a few individuals so the cartel had to work behind the scenes to accomplish their mission. Their big chance came in 1912 when the cartel discovered presidential candidate Woodrow Wilson was in desperate need of funds. The Central Banksters cut a deal with Wilson. They would fund his presidential campaign and in return if they got Congress to pass a law creating a central bank, Wilson had to promise to sign the bill into law.”
“So basically you are saying that Woodrow Wilson took a bribe to become President of the United States.”
“Basically, yes. Wilson agreed to the deal and with the Banksters’ money he won the 1912 presidential election. And then on Christmas Eve 1913 with most opposing senators absent for Christmas break, Congress snuck through the Federal Reserve Act which
Woodrow Wilson promptly signed into law.”
“Sounds kind of like how they pass laws today,” Simon interjected.
“Right, because both Wilson and the supporting members of Congress knowingly and willfully violated the Constitution of the United States because Article 1, section 8 states, ‘that only Congress shall have the power to coin or create money and regulate the value thereof’. The Supreme Court has even ruled that Congress cannot delegate its power to another group.”
Simon looked back down at his watch with a sigh. “So what? The Constitution, are you kidding me? The Constitution hasn’t been a valid document for 30 years. It is nothing more than a relic, an ancient manuscript that serves no purpose. Do you know any branch of the government that adheres to it?”
“No, but the bottom line is we have a private corporation called the Federal Reserve unconstitutionally and illegally printing money. Of course, now that’s all done digitally since there is no more physical money in circulation.”
“All right, I get that part,” Simon cut in. “But you’ve lost me a little. Who cares if they create our money? I mean someone has to, right?”
West laughed. “That’s kind of what I thought at the beginning of my research. I think Henry Ford said it best when he was asked about the Federal Reserve. Ford said, “It is well enough that people of the nation do not understand our banking and monetary system because if they did, I believe there would be a revolution by tomorrow morning.”
“Shit West, you’re giving me a headache. I still don’t get the angle here. Nothing you’ve told me is of any interest to my readers. You’re down to a minute. Miss Big Tits doesn’t like me to be late. Wrap this up.”
“Hold on, I’m getting there. I could get into fractional banking and all that but for the sake of Miss Big Tits let me break down our current monetary system this way: the government needs money to fund DC’s constant wars against our friends and foes. And the government also needs to finance projects or pay entitlements demanded by its citizens so they go to the Treasury and asks for, let’s say one trillion dollars. The Treasury laughs and says “C’mon you guys spent all our revenues by March. There’s nothing left.”
The Unraveling Page 7