by Randy Dutton
“You assume that the UN really is planning on eight billion,” Art said. “The Malthusians have a much lower number in mind.”
“The guys who want to forcibly reduce human population? What’s their number?” Ed asked.
“Something less than two billion,” responded Art, “and that’s with a much reduced caloric intake. Better plan on 2,500 calories per person of vegetables and fruits, maybe some fish for everyone. And you can forget beef.”
“How many calories do people eat now?” Sam asked.
“I saw a ludicrous study published by Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences that claimed the well-off ate an average 9,000 calories,” Ed said.
“Are they serious?” Sam asked. “Our military rations have half that and I’ve never been able to eat a full day’s worth – even during combat.”
“You were in combat?” Ed asked.
“Yes, Desert Storm...combat engineer,” Sam said.
“The report also projected about 9.5 billion people by 2050, in spite of the declining population in the developed nations,” Ed said.
“Take it with a grain of salt, guys,” Art chimed in. “Consider the report preparing global government to forcibly reduce human populations. It looks like the Malthusians are preparing the battlefield.”
“Yes, but don’t discount Progressives still wanting to turn much of the food to fuel. That demand will stress the farms,” Tom added, “and they don’t plan on using oil, gas, or coal.”
“That’s something else we need to talk about...privately. How will your industry cope with fossil fuels shutting down?”
“They’ll cheat,” Tom said matter-of-factly. “At least most countries will cheat. There’s not a chance in hell Russia, China, or the Middle East will stop producing. Most of the zealots are in the West. But as we discussed last night, progressives’ intent is to de-develop the western nations as punishment for being too successful. Russia and the others are more than happy to oblige our own self-destruction, and that’s the only reason they play along with the charade – for a while.”
“Then it’s settled. We’ll meet in Dallas.”
Chapter 7
June 16, 1000 hours
Maldives International Airport, Maldives
Coral dust billowed from the whirling rotors. Through his executive jet’s window Swanson watched the Bell helicopter lift from the tarmac. It swept over the retreating Spider’s tender and toward the megayacht visible just a dozen kilometers offshore.
He sipped an iced vodka, Molly, the jet’s flight attendant, had placed there anticipating his arrival. He smiled and exhaled contentment. The drink helped him ignore the Bombardier Global Express XRS’s idling engines that resonated a low-frequency vibration.
His head turned to glance through the partition just behind his private section. Having it open during boarding reinforced the old man’s omnipresent image. The last of his staff were taking their seats.
Swanson settled back into one of four reclining, luxurious seats grouped around a removable working table.
Jared sat down opposite him. “Everyone’s accounted for.”
“And security?”
“All luggage has been transferred from the tender, scanned for explosives and surveillance electronics, and stowed in the cargo hold.” Jared quieted as the attractive redhead in a short skirt and tight top approached from the galley.
She swapped Swanson’s drink with a fresh one, and handed Jared a Guinness, it’s thick, creamy head emitted a roasted barley aroma.
“Thank you, Molly,” Swanson said with genuine affection.
Jared just nodded.
She fluttered her lashes. “Mr. Swanson, would there be anything else?”
His eyes crinkled at the corners and his smile widened. “No. I’ll ring if there’s anything I want.”
The buxom young woman giggled and closed the partition behind her.
Swanson’s mouth narrowed. “Now, we prepare for the next stage.”
“Yes, Sir,” Jared said.
The cockpit door opened, and the pilot approached Swanson. “We’re ready to leave whenever you say, Sir. There’s no weather event in our path, and our range allows a direct flight, so our arrival time will be 13 hours...in the late evening.”
“Good. Wheels up.” Swanson sipped his drink and leaned back.
Minutes later the jet revved its engines. With smooth acceleration, it sped down the coral strip and angled sharply upward.
Swanson watched silently, enjoying the view of the beautiful Maldivian coral atolls dropping below. His attention shifted to the wall-mounted monitor displaying a small aircraft avatar in relation to the Maldives Islands, rings of atolls having a striking resemblance to necklaces of jade and turquoise. The changing flight data was contained in a small data box.
Jared also was watching the monitor. “Think those islands will actually disappear under the waves?”
“Not this century...probably not ever.” Swanson looked at his chief of security, then at the closed door.
Jared evaluated his boss’ pensive expression. “Thinking about Anna staying behind?”
“Yes. I enjoy having a beautiful, intelligent woman next to me. No offense.” Swanson sipped his vodka. “She’s entertaining.”
“She’s argumentative,” Jared said brusquely.
“I like her wry sense of humor—”
“She challenges you.” Jared said in frustration.
“… and her sarcastic wit,” Swanson concluded.
Jared sipped his beer. “Why’s she staying behind? She wouldn’t tell me...said it wasn’t any of my business.”
Swanson raised his eyebrows at the last statement. “You don’t need to know. She always meets her mission objectives, often in creative and ingenious ways.” She’s also my favorite employee, he thought. “Do you know how she eliminated our VP of Finance before he could provide evidence against me to the International Criminal Court in the Hague?”
Jared’s brow rose. “You didn’t share that mission report with me,”
“She tripped him up...literally.” Swanson chuckled. “She figured he was the leak when he claimed to be in New York, and his GPS-enabled tablet showed him in Brussels. Rushing to Belgium she disguised herself and, at the right moment, tensioned a nearly invisible nanotech thread at the top of icy steps. It tripped him, causing him to land several steps down, hitting his head. Then, pretending to be a concerned passerby, she removed the evidence he carried and ensured his injury was fatal.”
“Notwithstanding her effectiveness, I think you give her too much latitude,” Jared said testily.
“I would remind you it was her idea to create a GPS-enabled tablet that forced our executives to log on daily, thus keeping it near them and letting us know their whereabouts. I give her freedom because she never fails me...never complains about an assignment...never says it can’t be done. I trust her, well, as far as I trust anyone. So last night when she told me she wanted to conduct some local business, I didn’t press her for details.”
“You treat her as a daughter. That’s not safe.”
“She is a bit like a daughter – a morally-lost orphan I essentially adopted and had molded into a precision weapon. When Gabriel found her for me, he said he’d seldom seen a better candidate for what I needed – sexy, athletic, brilliant, both tactically and strategically, but dissolute with an explosively dangerous temperament.”
“He’s another rogue.”
“But a valuable freelancer – expensive but very crafty. You just resent him because I offered him the job before I hired you.”
“He’s ex-CIA. He would have turned on you.”
“You think he’s got scruples? Well, that would be a good reason not to let him get too close.”
“He and Anna are close,” Jared snarled.
“She gets her stuff from him. I know...I pay the bills.” He groaned. “She has to get outfitted from someone. Better to get weapons from him than someone I don’t know. Besides
, Gabriel and I get along fine. It’s you he doesn’t like.” Swanson grinned.
“Is there anything about Anna you don’t like?”
The older man leaned back, contemplating the ice in his glass. After a long moment, he replied, “Her intensity. I like that Anna lives for work. She makes it look effortless. Even when socializing or recreating with the rich and powerful she’s maneuvering one of my agendas forward. But she doesn’t take down time. That doesn’t sit well with me.”
“You think she’s burning out?”
“Possibly. I think she’s on the edge. I sense there’re so many wheels spinning in her pretty head, conjuring up who knows what, that without rest to grease them, the gears may fly apart. I just don’t know what would happen in that event.”
“Then you should give me the flexibility to decide her fate.” A grin formed.
“We’re not at that point yet, Jared. And there’s no specific incidence of warning.”
“I can have her watched—”
Swanson threw a stern look at Jared. “No! Don’t antagonize her. If you put her under surveillance, she’ll find out.”
“I can do it without her knowing,” Jared challenged.
“You underestimate her...always have. She has layers of warning. You trip just one layer and she sees you as a threat. Believe me, she believes in vendetta and never relinquishes a grudge. If that happens, all hell breaks loose. We’re too close to fulfilling my agenda to piss off the key person implementing it. And though I’d love to order her to decompress, right now, we’ve got too much on our plates.”
Jared’s smile flattened. He nodded, admitting defeat. “I’ll back off.... By the way, some of the guards stayed behind instead of flying ahead. The Spider’s crew can use the extra security to help break down the cabana and other equipment and bring them onboard. On the return voyage, the yacht has to pass the pesky Somali pirates. I authorized live target practice if the situation arises.”
“I pity the pirates who go against the Spider’s crew.” Swanson chuckled. “To be outgunned and outmaneuvered by a ship with two armed helicopters, and those Anzio sniper rifles you acquired....”
Jared grinned. “Out at sea, anything goes! I’ve got a dozen more guards waiting for us in Davos. I don’t care if it is the safest city in Switzerland for hosting the wealthy and powerful. I want to be prepared.”
Swanson nodded. “And I like the visual symbolism significant security provides.... You making sure the GCHQ isn’t spooking our rooms?”
“The ‘Royal Concierge’ Technical Attack (TECA) teams won’t get near our suites to plant their surveillance.”
“Good that you have insiders in British Intelligence confiding to you about the conference being targeted,” Swanson said.
“Still, just in case the TECAs manage to insert something, we’re prepping your suite with counter-measures.”
Molly knocked then opened the door and placed another iced vodka in front of Swanson. She nodded to Jared. With a flick of his wrist, he waved her away.
Swanson waited until the partition door closed. “Jared, do you know why I want to be in Davos, personally?”
“To oversee the contract awarding I presume.”
The elder man leaned forward, clacking his glass on the table. “We deserve our share of the prize! Much of this wouldn’t be happening if we hadn’t coordinated events. Pairing up the technologies to meet the carbon reduction challenge with the markets to be controlled takes finesse. The UN action will cause whole industries to disappear, and new ones to be created. Capitalism is dying! Socialism is the way forward.”
Swanson leaned back and smiled. At least that’s what I tell everyone.
“Jared, I need your intelligence network to catch any inkling that the UN might reduce intellectual property rights.”
“Sir, hasn’t reducing those rights been an Agenda 21 goal for years?”
“Yes. But we’ll suffer if they reduced our rights. We deserve to maximize our financial reward.”
Swanson’s thoughts continued, After all, I’m entitled. I’ve spent billions of euros pushing the Agenda. Now it’s my time for payback. How I love manipulating the world! Life would be so dull if I had nothing to spend my billions on. As Sherlock Holmes would say, ‘The game’s afoot!’
Jared finished his beer and interrupted Swanson’s thoughts. “If it’s okay with you, I’d like to spell the co-pilot to give him some sack time.”
“Go ahead, but first, ask Ian to come up here.”
Jared walked to the back, leaving the door open.
Swanson reclined to consider this next meeting.
A moment later, Jared walked to the front. “Ian’s right behind me.” He continued into the cockpit.
A red-headed man in his early 60s entered. “Yes, Mr. Swanson?”
Swanson’s hand motioned to a seat diagonal to his own. “Sit down, Ian. I want to talk about the conference. Drink?”
“No, Sir. Thank you anyway.” He sat and put his tablet on the table.
“As my head accountant, I need to know you’ve coordinated with sales to provide support. As you’re aware, this Agenda 21 meeting, by UN charter, will issue the first tranche of global contracts and other commitments to the green companies. It’ll also identify the first round of fines and fees to countries and industries. It’s critical to our financial success for which I’ve worked the past three decades, allowing us to capitalize on hundreds of billions of euros of business per year.”
Ian nodded. “Yes, Sir. I know how important it is. I’ve got five accountants, each set up on a product sales team. They’re already in Davos.”
“Good.” Swanson leaned forward. “I ever tell you how Snath got started?”
“I’ve read pieces of the story in various magazines, but never directly from you, Sir.”
“Well, as they say, from the horse’s mouth.” Swanson took a gulp. “Agenda 21 was the UN action plan for sustainable development that emerged from the 1992 UN Conference on Economic and Development—UNED—held in Rio de Janeiro. I was there, helping push UN delegates to create that plan. Without my sizable wealth and influence, I doubt it would have passed.
“Agenda 21 had been described to the media as a comprehensive blueprint of actions to be taken globally, nationally, and locally by organizations of the UN, national governments, and major groups in every area in which humans directly affect the environment. But I knew better. It was the means to power!
“Here’s what you don’t know. We really designed Agenda 21 to control and inhibit the human population. As its power increased, it overruled national interests and global democratic rule. Sound simplistic?”
“Not at all, Sir.”
“Ian, emerging nations want what the developed nations have. Since there are more poor people in undeveloped countries than there are rich in developed ones, we used their votes to redistribute the wealth.”
“Majority wins?”
“Exactly. Our agenda passed quietly, before most people knew about it.”
“And the press, Sir. Were they in the dark?”
“Thankfully, we’d already gotten most of the press in our pockets. When the public learned what was in the agenda, it was too late. Their basic human freedoms and property rights were already restricted. George Orwell had it right in ‘Animal House’ when the pigs in the book say, ‘Everyone is equal, but some are more equal than others.’”
Ian pushed his glasses up higher on his nose. “Accounting is all about controlling numbers for a desired outcome. Same concept.”
“And that’s why you’re here. This is war, and the UN now commands the battlefield, and we help control the UN.”
“Which issues the contracts,” Ian added confidently.
“Yes, but it’s more than about making money. Once we have a lock on the contracts, we continue to control the future. Carbon’s the key. I need accounting to ensure we get the contracts even if we have to make some sacrifices. Profit margins are fluid, even if we have to �
��buy in’ to the contract.”
“Got it, Sir, though I have to say, with our expenditures setting up global distribution and production, we’re pretty leveraged.” Ian cocked his head. “Sir, what’s been the biggest holdup to the Agenda?”
“The biggest capitulator, the one everyone wanted to break, was the United States. Through my extensive resources, I was the principle who helped get the President, and many other progressives, elected. Of course, it really wasn’t about one person. It was about a hundred-year struggle to redefine what ‘fair’ meant. Once the US fell, all the other holdouts collapsed.”
Ian leaned back. “I’m glad conservatives didn’t hold out for another ten years. I’m not sure I could put retirement off forever.”
“Tell me about it. You’re a generation younger. I’m 81. But, then, I’ll never retire...this is too exciting.” Swanson raised his glass and took a gulp.
“Do you think we’ll be able to stop population growth?”
Swanson put his glass down. “Absolutely! And sooner than you might imagine.... Ian, some of the most brilliant men of the time believed that mankind was a disease on Earth and had to be controlled as such. But of course, someone must be in charge.” He downed his vodka and rang for another.
“I can’t think of anyone better than yourself, Sir.”
“Well, it has to be people like me. Otherwise it’s anarchy. I recall a Club of Rome meeting I attended quite some time ago. One speaker said, ‘The common enemy of humanity is man. In searching for a new enemy to unite us, we came up with the idea that pollution, the threat of global warming, water shortages, famine and the like would fit the bill. All these dangers are caused by human intervention, and it is only through changed attitudes and behavior that they can be overcome. The real enemy then, is humanity itself.’”
“Quite eloquent, Sir.”
When Swanson stifled a yawn, Ian took the hint and stood. “If there’s nothing more, Sir. I’ll return to the main cabin.”