“How in the hell do you know that?”
Simon turned and pointed. “Take a quick glance into the coffee shop.”
West looked into the dingy coffee shop next to their office. “Yeah, what am I supposed to be looking at?”
“See the sign above the counter.”
West squinted. “The one that reads serving customer four.”
“That is your threat assessment.”
West looked back into the coffee shop. A haggard old man at the cash register turned and stared at West. He bowed slightly then turned and walked behind the counter.
“I don’t understand what is going on.”
“No one does. We can’t communicate electronically because it’s all under surveillance so we have to be creative. We have an insider, a programmer at DHS who has access and provides us with individual threat assessment ratings. He is monitoring yours and we’ll know if it gets raised. The best case scenario is that after this episode you’ll move to a five or six and hold there. At least that will buy us some time.”
“Great,” West responded. “What happens if it goes above that?”
“I already told you what happens then. Look, we’ll worry about that when it happens. First things first, when I get to my office I’m going to contact Agent McCain and tell him I think you have been acting a bit strange and I am also going to give them your rough draft about the Federal Reserve.”
“Why the hell would you do that?”
“Think about it. It is a perfect cover. You went to go see Jimmy because you wanted information about Firth, who is an insider with high level connections to the United States and European central banks. I’ll tell them I’ve been keeping an eye on you and that you came up with some cockamamie story about the Fed and a banking cabal conspiracy. Maybe they’ll buy enough of the story to think you’re some wacko and as part of your job here you were just digging around where you shouldn’t have been. Hopefully, they’ll buy the cover and just keep you under close surveillance for the time being.”
“What do you think the chances that’ll work?”
“Like I said it might buy us some time but you still may have to disappear.”
“Disappear?”
“The Dracun don’t play around. How many people have you known over the years that have supposedly moved away, died from mysterious circumstances or just vanished?”
West thought about it and Simon was right. He didn’t have any close relatives and after his demise at the Wall Street Journal he had lived like a recluse but he had known quite a few acquaintances or co-workers who had just ceased to exist.
“While I’m calling the agents,” Simon continued. “I want you to call our friend Jimmy.”
“What are you crazy? You know both our phones are being monitored.”
“Think about it, West. It makes sense for the cover story we’re trying to create. If he’s dead, it won’t matter but if you get through to him they’ll be listening so play it straight and dumb. You need to bitch and moan that he probably got you in trouble. Tell him he shouldn’t have stolen that computer and gotten you involved because the only thing you wanted was information about Firth for your two-bit conspiracy article.”
West nodded. “All right, that makes sense but what should I do after that?”
“Assume you are being followed and everything you say is being overheard. Continue to investigate and see what you can find out about Nigel Firth. That will lend credence to your cover and maybe we can find out something about him we can use.”
West nodded in agreement because after all what choice did he have?
They walked into the shabby lobby of their building. The elevator was broken again so they took the stairs. They entered the newsroom and West felt like every person on the floor was a Dracun spy.
Simon walked to his office and West went to his desk. He pretended to work on his computer because he dreaded calling Jimmy but he knew he had no choice, he had to make the call.
He took a deep breath and dialed. On the second ring Jimmy answered, “Hey West. I was wondering when you were going to have the decency to call me and see if I was still alive.”
West was a bit taken back about how cheerful he sounded. Maybe Simon was making too much out of all of this. “Well, I knew you were in big trouble over that computer. What the hell were you thinking?”
“I know, that wasn’t my brightest idea but what is done is done.”
“Damn Jimmy, why’d you drag me into your mess? All I wanted was some information for a stupid conspiracy story.”
“Yeah, what can I say? Sorry about that.”
“Are you in a lot of trouble?” West asked.
“Yeah,” Jimmy laughed. “The only thing that saved me was I told them the exact truth and I have a skill set they desperately need.”
“So they just let you go?”
“Not exactly. I am on, like, lifetime probation. I also agreed in lieu of a criminal conviction to teach three classes a week to their computer security recruits for the next ten years with no pay. And I signed a confidentially agreement promising to never discuss the computer.”
“Kind of like a community service deal, huh?”
“Kind of.”
“Well, I hate to ask you this Jimmy but did you tell them about me?”
“Sorry West, I had no choice. But I told them the truth. I told them you had nothing to do with the computer and that you just wanted information for an article. I don’t think you have much to worry about. They’ll probably contact you to make sure my story jives but just tell them the truth and you shouldn’t get into too much trouble. I hope you’re not too mad at me. I feel bad as it is.”
“No, don’t worry about it. I suppose if my article gets killed who cares anyway. It was all a bunch of conspiracy nonsense in keeping with the exceptional journalistic integrity of the World Weekly. I was kind of at a dead end anyway and my editor is not all that supportive of the story or me.”
“All right, well good luck with the article. And after things die down a little maybe we can get a beer or something.”
West faked a laugh. “I appreciate it but maybe we should stop while we’re ahead.”
“The least you could do is buy me lunch for all my trouble,” Jimmy said in a slightly forced tone.
West paused for a second and figured he had no choice if he was going to keep up with the façade.
“Okay. I’ll take you to any place you want to go. Price is no object. You tell me.”
“How about that sushi place on 55th?”
West grip on the phone tightened. “Sure. Sounds good, but let me call you next week because I’m swamped right now.”
He hung up the phone, realizing Jimmy had just sent him a warning. He had passed him a code by asking to get together at the sushi restaurant. The restaurant didn’t exist and had always served as Jimmy’s dummy site to meet. Jimmy was being used or controlled by DC or the Dracun.
He pulled out the cocktail napkin Jimmy had given him before Homeland had stormed the bar. It had Firth’s address on it. He printed the only photo of Firth he could find from AmeriNet and headed out. He was going to camp outside Firth’s apartment and hopefully get a chance to talk to him.
“On a planet that increasingly resembles one huge Maximum Security prison, the only intelligent choice is to plan a jail break.”
– Robert Anton Wilson
Chapter 13
West took the subway across town and found Firth’s brownstone. He sat down on a bench and began his stakeout.
An hour later he spotted an older gentleman dressed in a suit and overcoat walking down the street. West looked at the picture again. Hot damn, it was Firth. He quickly walked up to the man and flashed a large smile. “Mr. Firth,” he called out in a friendly voice. “Hi, my name is West Collins. I’m a reporter and I was wondering if you had a few seconds? I’d like to ask you a couple of questions.”
Firth looked at him like he was a serial murderer. “Who do you work
for?”
West wished he hadn’t asked him that. “I’m with the World Weekly,” he answered.
Firth looked even more disgusted. “I really don’t have the time now, call and schedule an appointment with my secretary.”
Firth turned and started walking toward his building’s entrance. West knew this was going to be his only chance.
“Mark Sloan told me to contact you if something happened to him,” West called out hoping for some type of response. “You know Sloan was murdered by the Dracun.”
Firth turned and stared at him. “Sloan was a good man but I don’t know what you’re talking about. The newspaper reported he hung himself because of financial difficulty.”
“You believe the news media?”
“You’re in the industry, should I not?”
“Why do you think Sloan told me to contact you if something happened to him?”
“I have no idea.”
West knew his time with Firth could be up at any moment. He had to take a shot. “Sloan was my source inside of Lehman. I know everything.”
Firth’s ice cold features suddenly changed and the response was not what West was expecting because Firth burst out laughing.
“You know everything, eh? That my friend is one of the most amusing statements I’ve heard in a long, long time.”
West felt his agitation growing but he tried to keep it in check. At least he had engaged Firth but now he had to lay out his cards.
“Allow me to clarify that. What I meant to say was I know you gave Sloan information that he then passed on to me.”
Firth regained his cold aristocratic expression. “Did he tell you that?”
West had learned sometimes the best way to get information out of a hostile person was to answer a question with another question.
“You were on the board of Lehman Brothers. Why’d the Dracun let Lehman fail?”
Firth took a step closer. His stare was actually unnerving and West wasn’t sure how to read him now.
“Companies, in particular financial companies, fail all the time. Why do you think Lehman was any different?”
“C’mon we all know every major investment bank at that time was probably insolvent. Sloan told me Lehman was chosen to fail for a reason.”
Firth took another step closer and in almost a whisper he said, “Trust me son, you don’t want to get involved in this.”
“I agree with you, but it’s too late.”
Firth took a step back and looked around. A look of resignation swept across his face. “It’s about to be all over with anyway. I guess it doesn’t matter. They let Lehman go bankrupt to send a message.”
“Who’s they?”
“The Dracun. The Federal Reserve operates as their bank. It is nothing more than a digital ATM machine they alone control.”
“You are a member of the Dracun, aren’t you Mr. Firth?”
“I had no choice, I was born into it. There is no escape from membership, ever. My name is Nigel R. Firth. The R is for Rothschild. My family’s side of the Rothschilds were the original and largest shareholders of Lehman Brothers. By letting the bank fail, its shares became worthless wiping out a large part of my net worth. But more importantly it stripped me of my power within the Dracun. I was excommunicated if you will.”
West looked up at the brownstone. “You seem to be doing fairly well.”
Firth smiled. “It’s all relative. I am still wealthy by your measures but I am now a powerless outcast.”
“What did you do to piss them off so badly?”
“It is too long of a story. You wouldn’t understand anyway.”
“At least tell me the purpose of the Dracun?”
“To create a Panopticom.”
“What’s that?”
“The term was first used in 18th century England when a theorist suggested it would be possible to build a prison that allowed a single watchman to observe all the prisoners. An omnipotent watchman who the prisoners would never be able to see while they were incarcerated. It was an ingenious theory that has come to fruition.”
“How do you mean?”
Firth laughed and looked around with his arms held out. “My dear boy certainly you are not that naive. Whether you realize it or not everyone in today’s society is imprisoned. We all operate, whether we subconsciously know it or not, as if every conversation, every action is being watched, recorded and scrutinized. We are controlled by omnipotent Wizards of Oz who pulls our strings like little puppets.”
“So according to you the Dracun has succeeded?”
“Success is a relative term, but yes the Dracun has succeeded. The only problem is once you achieve your only goal, your only purpose, what do you do afterward?”
“This is going to be a strange question but have you ever heard of the Zero Theory?”
“Yes.”
“Is it true?” West asked.
Firth hesitated a second before answering, “That is an unanswerable question.”
“What do you mean?”
“Like the old metaphor says, the answer is like an onion. You have to peel back all the layers until you get to the core and discover the truth, huh.”
“So are you a rotten core or an enlightened soul, Mr. Firth?”
Firth smiled. “It doesn’t matter what or who I am. I can’t do anything about it because it’s too late.”
“Too late for what?”
“To stop it and return the world to how it should be before.”
“Before what?”
“Before the interference.”
“Can you please speak in English?”
“Before the world as we know it was manufactured and manipulated by forces beyond our comprehension.”
“Is this just some big game to all of you?”
“This is not a game.”
“Well how about enlightening me a little.”
“You possess, or I should say lack, something that confounds Ulysses.”
West was afraid to ask but he had crossed the Rubicon long ago. “Who is Ulysses and what is it that I possess that confounds them?”
“You’ve met Ulysses. They have thought you, or one of the others, might provide an answer to their quest to discover The One and that is why they stayed here. But they will soon leave. When they do the system as we know it will collapse.”
West head was spinning. “Look Mr. Firth, tell me who this Ulysses is and maybe we could talk to him. Maybe it’s not too late.”
Nigel looked at his watch. “It wouldn’t be safe for either one of us right now. There is someone I have to meet with and you definitely don’t want to be involved with him. Come back tonight. I will give you a pass at the nighttime checkpoint to get you through. I’ll leave word with the security guard at the building to escort you to my apartment. I’ll tell you everything then.”
“What time.”
“Nine o’ clock.”
“Thank you, Mr. Firth. I’ll see you at nine.”
West watched Rothschild go inside. He hopped into a cab and as he sped by Firth’s apartment building he swore he glimpsed a man who looked like Agent Graham entering the building.
“Those who would give up essential Liberty, to purchase a little temporary Safety, deserve neither Liberty nor Safety.”
– Benjamin Franklin
Chapter 14
West’s cell rang at eight-thirty from an unknown caller. “Hello,” he answered.
“Mr. Collins. Hi, this is Nigel. I was wondering if it’s possible to meet at ten at The Black Crown Pub over on 44th?”
“Why the change?”
“Maybe it is an overabundance of caution but for both of our protection I think it would be wise to meet somewhere other than my apartment.”
Firth sounded strange, almost as if he were a little short of breath.
“Are you all right? Is something wrong?”
“No. I assure you I will answer all your questions. Just ask the bartender for me.”
“
All right. I’ll see you at ten.”
West left his apartment at nine-thirty and took the subway over to the Black Crown Pub which was located in a rundown two-story brick building in a seedy section of town.
What was a Rothschild, a man of high society, doing frequenting this place? Warning bells were ringing off the hook but West quelled them by convincing himself Firth just wanted to meet where he was guaranteed not to be noticed.
He walked into a smoke filled bar. The bar was small with a low ceiling and a dark and oppressive atmosphere. There were only a handful of men sitting around tables drinking, smoking and playing cards. They looked like Irish gangsters and West thought it was odd not one of them acknowledged his presence.
West walked over to the bar. A burly man whose face was crisscrossed with broken blood vessels hung up a phone and walked over. A toothpick dangled from his mouth.
“Whatcha you havin’?” He growled.
“I’ll take a beer.”
The bartender handed him a beer then placed his hands on the bar and stared at West.
He took a sip of the beer and the bartender continued glaring at him. “Uh, I was supposed to meet Nigel Firth here.”
The bartender took the toothpick out of his mouth and flicked it on the ground. He pointed to the back of the room.
“Follow the hall to the last room on the left.”
West left his beer on the bar and walked through the pub into a dark narrow hallway. He could barely see anything and every nerve was on high alert. He hesitantly walked down to a room near the end of the hall. The door was open and West walked in.
A single desk was in the middle of the room. Sitting behind it was a man dressed in a black suit, smoking a cigarette and reading a newspaper.
West coughed to get his attention. The man looked up and set the paper down.
The Unraveling Page 12