Conversations With the Crow
Page 49
RTC: No, they wouldn’t dare.
GD: But if they listen to me and I am talking to you, what then?
RTC: They shut down their system. At least until we stop talking. Of course they are concerned about my talking to you. I know that because I have been repeatedly warned against talking to you. You, Gregory, are a loose cannon and someone who not only does not respect our system but actively works against some of it. You gave Kimmel some very valuable documents that would materially assist his family in their quest to rehabilitate the reputation of Admiral Kimmel but Tom is not going to ever use them or allow them to be used by his family because if it ever became public that these came from you and that you got them from our friend Müller, the head of the Gestapo and a later Georgetown resident, all hell would break loose. Loyalty to his job takes precedence over loyalty to his family. No, Gregory, take it for granted that a close eye is kept on you at all times. They want to know what you have, where it is and what you plan to do with it.
GD: Yes, none of this surprises me but what is astonishing to me is how utterly stupid and predictable all of their approaches are. I mean we pay their salaries and for the money they get, they are a bunch of stupid sheep.
RTC: Unkind but no doubt true. But still, I caution you against saying anything on the phone about documents from Müller or myself, about what they might contain or, and most important, where you have them. We all know what you will eventually do with them but the first concepts are the most important. If they find out what you have, the next step is to either con you out of them or simply do a black bag job on them by breaking in and removing them. And if you leave home for any period of time, if you have incriminating or dangerous material on your computer hard drive, take it with you or remove it from your home computer and hide it in a safe place.
GD: Now we have good advice. I assume they’ll get to my publisher and convince him to find other subjects and authors to deal with.
RTC: Oh yes, and perhaps they will assist him with sales by making his books prominent in various government-owned book shops. You know how it goes. We all think, Gregory, that there are three basic branches of government here. The executive, the legislative and the judicial. Correct?
GD: Yes, we all learned that in school, along with reams of useless propaganda.
RTC: But there is a fourth branch of our government, Gregory, one I am personally well acquainted with. I would call it the Power Elite after the Mills book. And they, not the first three, run this country. This Elite is comprised of big business like the automotive companies, the big banks and other private financial institutions like the Federal Reserve and, of course, the insurance business. Yes, the insurance business. The biggest casino in the world. Everything with them is betting. They bet you’ll live past a certain age and further enrich them with premium payments. They bet you won’t drive your car into the back of a school bus and further enrich them with premium payments. Now, some people think the media is part and parcel of this but I assure you, our media works for the Power Elite. Cross them and the vital advertising is cut off and the paper collapses. Cross them and the unions suddenly strike the paper or the price of their paper goes way up. Oh yes, the media are servants of the middle level.
GD: I have always had trouble with the insurance people. I made the mistake of using Allstate….
RTC: Jesus, you poor fellow.
GD: Oh yes, I know. Do they pay out? No, they use every excuse to avoid any payment. Your family was staying in a motel until the renovators had finished rewiring their insured house? The house caught fire? Too bad, dudes, Allstate said, you weren’t living in the house when it caught fire so they don’t pay. A real case, in Wisconsin as I recall. The courts didn’t see it Allstate’s way so after long and expensive litigation, Allstate had to pay. My lawyer hates them and has compiled a thick file of such crap. I assume the others are just as bad.
RTC: Not all of them so blatant but if you have health insurance and get cancer, they call it a pre existing condition and cancel you right in the middle of chemotherapy and you die. Too bad but they take comfort in all the money they saved.
GD: But how do these crooks, these bribe merchants, stay in power?
RTC: They have people like the CIA on their side, of course. And the NSA and the FBI. These people, and I know this from the inside, help the Power Elite stay in power by spying on their enemies, actual and possible, to warn them of danger and to avert it by destroying or neutralizing it. And there are benefits. Say that Company A is one of our boys. We, or the NSA or whatever, spies on Companies B and C, the big rivals of A and when we learn secrets that could benefit A, we quickly pass it back to them. They, in turn, write checks that can be so comforting on cold nights. And all of this applies to the stock market, often rigged by boom and bust cycles, who also pay like slot machines. No, Gregory, the conspiracy people like to take the crumbs we throw out and worry the bone of the Kennedy assassination or the sinking of the Maine while other, more serious, matters go ignored. I was the liaison between the Company and big business and I know very well whereof I speak. The murder of Allende is nothing compared with the enormity of the greed and corruption that saddles everyone in the country but Congressmen and preachers And the burden gets heavier by the day. They spy on all of you, to keep order, to prevent disorder, to discredit enemies, to steal money, to punish people like you. Yes, all of this. The NSA watches everyone in this country. If you make a phone call to your cousin in England, the NSA listens in. If you get a money transfer from a Swiss bank, they know about it before your bank does. If you take a trip to France to take in the sights, they know the flight numbers, the hotels and the car rentals. Go to Switzerland, and they know what you put into a bank account. Go to the local library and check out a book they don’t like and they know about it. Buy a car, rent a car, buy a house, rent a house and they can find out about it in seconds if they want to. They have direct contact and full cooperation with all the major credit agencies. They all swap information on all of you so every credit card purchase, every deposit or withdrawal, every overdue card payment, all of this they can find out in seconds. And they want, and will eventually get, more and more power until the public is sucked dry like a school child attending a convocation of vampires. They are very powerful Gregory, but so huge and so all encompassing that no one without inside information on them would ever believe any of it.
GD: Robert, since you were in with these people, do you have any supportive documents on this?
RTC: A footlocker full. Trento is far more interested in this than he is in the trivia like the revolution in Iran or our part in the killing of the Diem brothers. I am safe but you are not. Joe is safe because if he ever got his hands on any of this, believe that Langley would have the originals, un-copied, on the day he got them.
GD: And the pat on the pointy head?
RTC: And the pat on the pointy head and, don’t forget, the Presentation Pen Set. They love those pen sets.
GD: With such baubles men are led. Napoleon said that about the Legion of Honor.
RTC: I think the pen sets cost about twenty dollars each but my, what they can buy, Gregory. Such loyalty and, more important, such service.
GD: But such systems fall of their own hubris and their own weight. They fall, Robert, and great will be the fall thereof.
RTC: Not on my watch, Gregory, not on mine. I served and got my rewards and now I am awaiting a not unexpected but hopefully natural death. I have my memories.
GD: And you also have your documents, Robert.
RTC: Yes, I do. Well, if Trento gets the really important ones, they will be accompanied by the Divine Plato on a one way trip to Langley and the burn bags. Plato gets jobs but Joe gets the pen set.
GD: Rather than go on about Müller, I think I would rather nut the Power Elite. Müller is dead but all of the rest of them ought to be either dead, or serving life sentences in a Mohave Desert work camp.
RTC: And if they went, they would be replaced by a
legion of others just waiting in the wings, wetting their panties in anticipation.
GD: Of the spoils of peace.
RTC: No, of war against everyone else.
(Concluded at 11:45 AM CST)
Conversation No. 88
Date: Thursday, June 19, 1997
Commenced: 2:30 PM CST
Concluded: 3:01 PM CST
GD: Are you in the mood for several fairly sensitive questions, Robert?
RTC: Why, Gregory, I am always ready for sensitive questions. Of course, I might not answer them but I will if I can.
GD: I have been reading about Gottlieb[66] and Cameron[67] and some stuff on your development of LSD and using it on unsuspecting people….
RTC: Like Olson…
GD: Yes. Interesting to note that the rapidly descending Olson worked up at Detrick. Question, if you want to get rid of an inconvenient person, how is it done?
RTC: Of course there is just taking them out into the woods and shooting them in the head. That is one method. Fake suicides are another. You know about those. And getting someone else to nail your person is another. Say we leak to a terrorist or criminal group we have infiltrated that the mark is a stool pigeon. They do it for us. And there are more technical means as well.
GD: Such as killing Hunt’s wife by crashing a commercial plane she was on?
RTC: Yes. Regretful collateral damage there. And sometimes, if we have access to a person who, let us say, is not dangerous now but could become dangerous later on or who has to be removed to make room for someone else, more friendly to us, to move into his place. We got rid of a British Prime Minister that way. Wilson. Too left-leaning for a lot of us so he suddenly got dementia and vanished from the scene.
GD: How ever did you accomplish that bit. Harold Wilson, of course. How?
RTC: Well, the people up at Detrick are very good at such things so, as I recall, they got up a solution that had a lot of mercury and aluminum in it and we got one of doctors on MI6’s payroll to inject him. Can’t have him just drop in his tracks so the injections come over a period of time as he gets dottier and dottier. It works so don’t knock it. That’s the long, slow but very safe way. They tell me that an autopsy won’t show it. They just figure the poor fool went around the bend and bought the farm, And if the mark is too well protected and we don’t have anyone close enough to him to put a nice additive in his food or drink, we just shoot him in the head when he takes an open car trip through Dallas.
GD: Yes, I have that one down. How about slow poison?
RTC: No, that might have worked back in the Borgia’s day but not now. We don’t want anything detected at the post so it has to appear natural. Regretful, saddening but natural.
GD: You could have tried that on Nixon, couldn’t you?
RTC: Oh, God no. Dick was batty enough without additives. And off the record, Henry Kissinger, his evil genius, is only a step behind him. A little push is all it takes, sometimes. Now our beloved President just calls up his friends and inconvenient people get shot in public lavatories by unknown gunmen, have ugly, disfiguring car accidents or whatnot. Brother Clinton is direct and not too subtle.
GD: The Foster business.
RTC: There old Vince was…by the way, Vince was getting religion and the Imperial Couple was starting to worry about him developing a conscience…and old Vince, lying on another grassy knoll in one of our lovely parks, shot through the head, gun in hand but the dried blood trail on his poor head was running up while his feet were down.. Of course Vince was shot elsewhere and dumped. They should have taken the elevation into account but of no matter. All we do then, or what they do, is to have the story tellers come up with complex, stunning theories, stuff them into the drooling idiot brigades just waiting for some new weird story and off they go.
GD: Camouflage.
RTC: I think distraction is a better word. The media is under tight control these days and we plant whatever sensational story we want and kill any story that might prove to be embarrassing to us. That used to be one of my jobs. Cord had it once but he is such an arrogant, threatening asshole that we had to replace him with someone like myself who is more political.
GD: And the Cameron torture palaces…
RTC: Oh, please, leave the poor doctor in peace. Completely nuts and starting to show it so he passed away, very quickly, while on a hiking trip. Once the local wildlife gets at them, there really isn’t much left over for a good autopsy.
GD: Well, I suppose you could analyze a pile of bear shit but I doubt if anyone would be that thorough. One would have to find the bear first and waiting around…well, you get my drift.
RTC: Well, our mark really just can’t vanish forever into the foundation of a stadium like Hoffa but then the people we send to Heaven are usually known. They have jobs, families and so on and if one of them just vanishes, there are annoying questions asked by wives and relatives. Actually, since most marriages go flat after a time, we are doing the wife a favor by doing her mate so the body can be found and wills can be probated. And new husbands located. And it’s nice for the children too. Tell me, Gregory, how many people have you sent off to play pool with Jesus?
GD: Now, Robert, what a leading question. Not at all nice. I would like to think that Jesus was happy with my pool-playing friends but I don’t have the resources your people do. I usually get someone else to do the job. Like you, get the bad people to find a motive and then go to the movies and watch a religious picture. But be sure to go with friends. Now that’s of course if your bad people let you know just when they are going to effect the transfer from the mundane life here to the rapturous one there.
RTC: We all sleep better, knowing we have helped a fellow to better himself.
GD: Yes, and think of the bears, the foxes, the various insects and flies or perhaps the fish as in the case of the Paisley fellow.
RTC: He fed quite a few marine creatures before they found him.
GD: Yes, heartwarming how considerate the CIA can be of our wild creatures.
RTC: Colby…
GD: The cheese? No, the DCI.
RTC: Yes, but the former DCI.
GD: No, Robert, the late DCI. He might he been late to his own dinner but not to the bottom feeders.
RTC: Memories.
GD: Yes. I don’t like to have flu shots, Robert, and now I have an excellent reason to stop getting them.
RTC: Oh, Gregory, as much as I like you, I must tell you that you are only a nuisance, not a menace.
GD: Well, better to be a live dog than a dead lion. As they say. Fellow in England used to insure his new wife, lure her into a bathtub and then grab her ankles and pull the legs straight up. Drowned her almost instantly. Brides-in-the bath Smith they called him.
RTC: Got caught?
GD: Yes, and hanged. Interesting technique, however. We learn from the mistakes of others, Robert.
RTC: Yes I suppose we do.
GD: Whatever happened to Dr. Gottleib”
GTC: The Goat Boy? His real name is Scheider. Grandfather was a rabbi. That one is as vicious as they come and crazy. He believes in out of body intelligence work. The what…the remote viewing crazies. Yes, I am sorry to say we put good taxpayer’s funds into the strangest things.
GD: Ah, for a moment there, Robert, I thought you were going to say your pockets but strange things are more interesting. You know, what with all this equal opportunity crap the lefties are preaching, I suppose the next target will be the telephone company operators. They’ll have to start hiring harelips next.
RTC: (Laughter) Or epileptic brain surgeons?
GD: Oh, those flashing lights, Robert. I’ve heard of epileptic whores before…
RTC: Catch-22…
GD: I see you are a well-read person. Yes, I do recall that charming book. The next grand-mal is just for you, sweetie, and hang on for the ride.
RTC: I’m glad Emily went out to shop, Gregory. It would distress her to overhear me.
GD: She seems very conventional.
RTC: Most of the CIA wives are. If we talked shop with them, they would tell everyone at the beauty parlor and then our wet teams would be awfully busy. What brought this up, by the way?
GD: Oh I was reading a tell-all book about Cameron and Gottleib.
RTC: Both of them were worse, ever, than the mythical Mengele. You should walk around this one, Gregory. No one cares any more but the Goat Boy is still alive and he could send you a virus laden box of candy.
GD: Just give it to the church for the poor. There are too many of them, anyway.
(Concluded at 3:01 PM CST)
Conversation No. 89
Date: Tuesday, June 24, 1997
Commenced: 11:03 AM CST
Concluded: 11:15 AM CST
RTC: Gregory. How are you? I thought it might be my son but we can talk for a little while. I have a doctor appointment this afternoon but I’m OK for a brief chat. Anything new with you?
GD: Never ask that question in an antique shop, Robert. It might offend.
RTC: You’ve had some experience there, as you’ve told me.
GD: Oh, yes, the upper levels of the art market, both here and in England are crooked as hell. I exposed the fake Rodin market as well as the Frederic Remington copies. God, they hate me. It’s a closed shop, Robert, and when I got started, just helping a friend, I brought the wrath of God down on my head. I had no idea Elsen was Jewish but I found out quickly enough. An army of dealers, lawyers, reporters and so on descended on me, screaming that I was a psychopathic liar and that no one should believe me. Of course I was right and they knew it and their united front collapsed when I goaded Frankenstein into having a heart attack by attacking him in public and so. Jerry Jensen from Channel 7 started investigating this and the dealers got to ABC corporate and Jerry was told to drop the project. I advertised a phony book and sent illustrated brochures out to the art critics of all the major papers. Jesus, what a response. More threats. I could paper my lavatory with letters from the lawyers of major auction houses and especially the minions of Cantor.