“Now of course, the politicians don’t like that answer so they start complaining and whining about their re-election bids until finally the Treasury says “OK guys, don’t worry we’ll call our friends over at the Fed.” So some Fed official answers and says “Sure we’d love to give you a trillion dollars, no problem.” And with a single keystroke they send a trillion dollars over to the Treasury.”
“But where’d they get the money?”
“They got it from nowhere. This is all done digitally.”
“It all sounds make-believe if you ask me,” Simon added.
“It kind of is. The Fed literally created it out of thin air. So now the Treasury gets a trillion dollars and in exchange it gives back to the Fed one trillion dollars in U.S. government-guaranteed bonds that pay interest to the Fed. So the simplistic net of this is the Fed prints money out of thin air not backed by anything. They then loan it to the government to pay for things there’s no actual money for. Then the Fed charges the government interest, and you’re going to love this part, the government taxes you to pay the interest to the Fed for money they created from nothing.”
Simon shook his head. “Motherfuckers! You know my CPA told me the other day I paid over 71 percent in just federal, terrorism, state, local, and carbon taxes last year?”
West whistled. “Ouch. 71 percent. You need to hire Government Electric’s accountant and you would have gotten a refund.”
“Yeah, right but I mean …… we still have to pay taxes to someone, right?”
West shook his head. “This is exactly what I’m talking about. We’ve forgotten our own history because for most of the United States’ existence it never had a federal income tax.”
“What, that’s not right. Is it?”
“Yes it is. No citizen of the United States ever paid a dime in federal income tax until after the Fed was created in 1913. Six months after the Fed was created Congress then passed the 16th amendment creating the federal income tax and IRS. And the reason they had to do that is because how else is the Fed going to collect the interest on the bonds given to them for printing money from nothing? Then of course in 2018 the 32nd amendment established a flat across-the-board 10 percent terrorism tax to help keep us all safe and a five percent World Tax to be used to help developing countries to fight climate change.”
“Yeah right, global warming. We’re been in a goddamn mini Ice Age for the last 20 years. Who was that loser politician who started all that warming bullshit?”
“I don’t know, some vice-president I think. But Sloan was right about one thing and that is to follow the money. Those who have the money have the power. And that was what all those carbon taxes were about.”
“Yeah right, but I guess that is their story and they’re sticking to it. I knew there was a good reason to hate those sons of bitches.”
“The IRS is just the enforcer. Before all money was electronically digitized, when you wrote a check to the IRS and got that check back. If you looked on the back it would’ve had a stamped endorsement that read payable to any Federal Reserve Branch.”
“Look, if all you say is true,” Simon said. “Why doesn’t someone in government do something about it? Because it sounds like this is the greatest swindle in the history of mankind?”
“I asked Sloan that exact same question and he told me the simple answer is the Fed provides politicians with an unlimited blank check to do whatever they want. They spend and make promises to keep the voters happy and they get re-elected over and over again. And the criminal politicians reap all the benefits. High salaries, free healthcare, security, tax breaks, pensions for life, and exemption from prosecution. I mean it is crony capitalism at its best. There are two sets of laws in this country–one for them and one for us. It’s that simple.”
Simon leaned back in his chair. “Or as Orwell said, all the animals are equal, it’s just some are more equal.”
“Exactly.”
“Okay. I admit this is kind of interesting but you’re going to need to jazz it up some. Where exactly are you going to go with this? I can’t print a story about the Fed and how it is screwing America. I need more.”
“How about that there is no reason for the Fed to exist? You know the Treasury Department could issue our currency debt free.”
“Why don’t they then?”
“Another good question. I don’t know why they don’t but one president tried.”
“Who.”
“JFK. He was believed to have thought the Fed posed a clear and present danger to the country. Six months before his assassination JFK issued Executive Order 11110 which authorized the U.S. Treasury to print “United States Notes” which would be interest-free and effectively end the Federal Reserve system. In fact, 10 days before his murder at a speech at Columbia he said, ‘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.’
“Hot damn, West. I like the direction of this now. Are you saying the Federal Reserve assassinated JFK?”
“No, but it is a heck of a coincidence isn’t it? You know Kennedy wasn’t the only president who was assassinated trying to break a central bank. Presidents Lincoln, Jackson and Garfield all were assassinated while in office after publically calling for the end of a central bank in the United States. But back to Kennedy, after Lyndon Johnson was sworn into office one of his first acts was to rescind Kennedy’s order and the banking cartel continued. And of course, Johnson gave birth to the Great Society which the country couldn’t afford unless the Fed could print money at will. Johnson’s presidency gave the country a big push down the path of socialism and central government planning.”
Simon was pacing around his room, which he did when he became excited.
“All right, our readers love conspiracies regarding JFK. Is there any way you could throw in a love triangle, or wait a ménage a trois between JFK, Jacqueline Kennedy and Marilyn Monroe?”
West shook his head. “Man, you’re too much. Just let me finish and you can go meet your friend and do whatever it is you do. I mean just think about how stupid we are. According to the Federal Reserve’s own stated objectives of economic stability it is a dismal failure of epic proportions. However, I’m really going to throw a wrench into this story when I say the stated objectives of the Fed were never its true goals. And this horror story is now going to morph into Alice in Wonderland because the Fed’s real goals are to make money for its shareholders, which if you think about it should be the main objective for any corporation.”
“But remember the Fed is not only a corporation it is a cartel which is a group of businesses that come together to reduce competition and increase their own profits. And they’ve gone one step further because they have the policing powers of congress because the Fed is Congress’s mechanism for an unlimited blank check. So I’ll give the Fed an A+ in terms of achieving its real goals which are to act in its own best interest. The Fed and its bank owners are like the space monster in that old sci-fi movie Alien. It is a perfect organism. A parasitic freak of nature that is virtually indestructible and its victim is all of us.”
“I’m really beginning to like this now,” Simon replied. “We have JFK, conspiracies and alien orgasms.”
“You mean organisms?”
“Whatever, but we just need some sex or drugs though. A little pizzazz to keep the reader interested.”
“Maybe I could find some of that in the Lehman angle? You remember your earlier question about why the Fed would allow one of its original shareholder’s–Lehman Brothers–to fail?”
Simon nodded.
“The Lehman failure is one piece of the puzzle that doesn’t fit. Something happened with Lehman that really rocked the boat. They were allowed to fail for a reason. First, if you give me the go-ahead I’m going to try and discover the Lehman connection to the Fed. Why were they allowed to fail? Were they a scapegoat? A smokescreen? Or did they have a falling out w
ith the powers that be within the Fed?”
“And there is also the New World Order possibility of control and power though the issuance of money and the collection of taxes. Like Rothschild said, whoever controls the money controls the world. Plus there are some leads and information Sloan provided that makes what I just told you seem like a Sunday picnic in terms of conspiracies and cover-ups.”
“Like what?”
“It’s too complicated and some of it I really don’t believe. Give me the time I need and I’ll keep you updated and if you don’t like the direction, you can pull the plug anytime. So what’d you say?”
“You know sometimes I get the feeling the world we live in is not exactly …” Simon paused as if searching for the right word. “I don’t know, not right in some way. It’s like something is missing?”
West had never thought about it in those terms but he knew what Simon was feeling. “I kind of know what you mean. I sometimes ask myself if we are really this fucking stupid to let a handful of people control the world as they do.”
Simon stood up. “Trust me my friend. We are that stupid but it doesn’t matter because our readers are even bigger idiots. Okay, I’ll green light this but I reserve the right to pull the plug anytime, especially if it turns into some lame monetary economic research paper.”
“Deal,” West agreed, knowing that was the best he was going to get.
“I’m out of here but I want updates every Friday. You hear me?”
“No problem.”
Simon began to leave, then turned back toward West. “You know how we could correct this whole mess?”
“How?”
“Kill everyone above the age of 60, hit the reset button and let the young people take over the world. The last two generations had their chances and they’ve completely fucked it up.”
Simon left and West had to admit, he had a good point.
“Highly unlikely, but not outside the realm of extreme possibility.”
– Mulder, X-Files
Chapter 9
West sat at his desk thinking about his Federal Reserve article. He wrote down the name Nigel Firth on a legal pad and circled it in red ink.
Why had Sloan told him to start with him? The only thing West could recall was that Firth was a super-wealthy European who came from a long line of bankers and commodity traders.
West jumped on AmeriNet and punched in a search for Firth. Surprisingly, for someone with his extensive business successes, there wasn’t much information available except for a listing of general business affiliations. West scanned the list and discovered he was on the board of Lehman when it crashed in 2008.
“Bingo,” he exclaimed because he was certain that meant Firth was Sloan’s insider at Lehman.
West spent another hour of fruitless searching and the lack of information about Firth raised a serious red flag because it appeared as if he had been scrubbed from AmeriNet.
Getting hold of this guy was going to be a bitch because people of his status were impossible to track down. Over the years West had become an expert in deciphering AmeriNet and the information that flowed, or didn’t flow, through it. It had been less than 10 years since Homeland Security took control of the internet. Gradually, and then very quickly, the entire availability of information had been irrevocably corrupted.
A small group of unknown, unregulated DC agents controlled the entire flow of information through the internet, at least in the United States. China operated its own internet systems called ChinaNet and West was certain it was at least as corrupt as the AmeriNet.
He paused for a second, weighing the pros and cons of the phone call he was about to make. After a brief hesitation he realized he had no choice and dialed a number from memory.
On the second ring a shrill voice answered, “Damnation, if it isn’t Mr. Big Time Disgrace himself. How the hell have you been?”
West shook his head. “Hey Jimmy, how’s it going?”
“It’s going fantastic, although I am a little shocked to hear from you. You must either be in big trouble or you really need something badly.”
“Maybe I just called to say hi, and to see how you’ve been doing.”
A cackle erupted from the phone. “Oh, you don’t change much, do you? Why don’t you buy me a beer and we can catch up?”
Jimmy refused to discuss any business over the phone for good reasons. ‘Why don’t you buy me a beer’ was code for ‘if you need a special favor’ please respond ‘that sounds good’ and then a meeting would be set to discuss the job.
“That sounds good,” he replied, playing Jimmy’s game. “Do you want to grab some sushi?”
“Nah. I ate some bad tuna last week.”
“Okay,” West replied. “How about tomorrow at that Italian place on 81st and 7th?”
“All right. Is nine Ok?”
“That’s fine.”
West hung up and waited exactly two minutes before calling Jimmy back. “Hey man, I apologize, I don’t know what the hell I was thinking but I can’t make it tomorrow. I got this huge story deadline and I have to get it done. How about I call you early next week and we’ll set up a time then?”
“No problem. Just let me know what day is good for you,” Jimmy replied.
West hung up the phone again and grabbed his jacket to go meet Jimmy at an Irish dive over in Brooklyn, which served as his hangout. Jimmy was paranoid, to the extreme, about being electronically monitored and everything he did was in code. If Jimmy said he wanted Italian that meant he wanted to meet today and they always met at his hangout, a hole-in-the-wall Irish pub. Everything else was gibberish.
West grabbed his coat and headed out of the office. He hopped a subway over to a dilapidated section of Brooklyn and walked into the smoked-filled Irish joint. He spotted Jimmy seated at his customary booth, drinking a beer.
West walked over knowing he was going to regret asking Jimmy for this favor because it was almost the equivalent of asking the underground mafia for a loan. The payback was always a bitch.
He slipped into the booth and lit up a cigarette. “Hello Jimmy,” he replied while motioning to the waitress to bring him a beer.
“West. Good to see you, old buddy. What has it been four, five years?”
“Something like that.”
“I was going to say you look good except for the fact that you look about 20 years older. You need to keep in better shape there my friend.”
Jimmy hadn’t changed much in the last couple of years but that wasn’t saying much. He was razor thin with shallow cheeks and hooded eyes that made him look like he was perpetually stoned. His thin greasy hair was slicked over to one side and he was wearing the same old gray suit as the last time West saw him.
The waitress set the beer down and West drank half of it in two gulps. He waited for her to leave then said, “I need contact information and some background.”
“I see, and who is this person you are inquiring about?”
“Nigel Firth.”
There was a slight pause then Jimmy said, “Ah, the tangled web we weave.”
“You know him?”
“I’ve heard of the guy. He’s way connected.”
“In what way?”
Jimmy smiled, which meant this information was going to cost West a lot. Jimmy ran a very unique black market business. He was employed by DC in the National Telecommunications Office as a security software analyst. Basically, his job was to try to hack into DC’s own networks so they could build firewalls to prevent LT hackers or foreign enemies from compromising the systems.
If DC ever discovered Jimmy’s little side business he could expect to get at least 20 years in a FEMA Camp and that was only if he cooperated and brought more people down with him. It always made it a huge gamble to deal with Jimmy because of the Terrorists Statutes. Over a period of time Congress had passed a series of laws that gave mandatory prison sentences for anyone it considered to have aided and abided terrorists.
The laws were simi
lar to the RICO Act but even tougher in its punishment. Hell, in many cases you were better off murdering someone than being arrested under the Terrorist Statutes.
West knew he was going to have to play ball if he wanted the information, so reluctantly he asked, “So do you want the job or not?”
“You know I always like to play with fire and this guy is a supernova. But we need to discuss my payment. It’s been a while West. My fee has doubled.”
“Jimmy I couldn’t afford you then, what makes you think I can pay you double now?”
“It’s called cost benefit analysis. It is all about the risk my friend.”
West knew Jimmy held the negotiating power because there was no one else he could contact.
“How about I pay you the usual and I’ll owe you a favor?”
Jimmy thought for a second then reached inside his jacket and pulled out a strange looking electronic gadget. “Agreed. Betcha you’ve never seen one of these before?”
“Can’t say I have. What is it?”
“Well if you ever need one let me know. But it will cost you a fortune in gold and a few vital organs. And I mean that literally.”
“So what is it?” he repeated.
“It’s a prototype of a functioning quantum computer.”
“I didn’t think those things existed.”
Jimmy smirked. “You naïve plebeians know nothing about our government. Quantum computers have been around for years. Of course, that is on a need to know basis only. They are all kept in a secret underground laboratory in New Jersey or in a military complex underneath the Rocky Mountains.”
“I don’t even want to know how you got your hands on this one.”
Jimmy took a swig of his beer. “No, you don’t.”
The Unraveling Page 8