Читать книгу PIPER'S, INC. 2 - JUDAS KISS - Joaquin De Torres - Страница 6

Rothschild Mansion

41 E. 70th St.

Manhattan, NY.

“Every man has a price. Don’t you agree?”

The guest remained silent.

“Don’t be shy. I want you to speak your mind.” The guest remained reticent as he studied his host.

“Every man, in fact, has a price. A price to do what? That depends on the man, his needs, his desperation. We’ve come to know this fact throughout the history of Man’s existence. And today, these words ring true in your case.”

Benson Roth, a seventh-generation descendant of his oligarchic family, who dropped the –schild from his surname to minimize attention to his blue blood lineage, paced slowly about the magnificent room of the mansion he now owned. An air of privilege and authority followed the man, even the manner with which he spoke carried that mark of someone educated by institutions of the highest order.

Resplendent in a three-breasted, smoke grey silk suit and a glimmering aqua green silk tie, Roth eyed his guest pensively. He beheld him with calming reassurance, not wanting to alarm or discomfort him in any way. This was the massaging period, the time when his smooth delivery and well-oiled sympathies coaxed his clients to his side. Manipulation, yes, but it was a skill Roth had honed over the years with thousands of people he needed or desired to bring to heel.

“Mr. Roth, why am I here?” asked the guest.

“You’re here because there’s something not sitting right with you at PIPER’S, Inc.” Roth spoke in a tone of a sage, a consultant who already had the answers to your ills.

“Sir, I assure you that I’m paid handsomely and treated with utmost respect.” Roth had heard this so many times before – the client parrying his or her way for a position of aloofness and self-assuredness. It made no difference to him.

“It’s not the money you have a problem with, is it? It’s the entitlement. Or, should I say, the lack there of.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Mr. Roth.”

“I think you do.” Roth handed his guest one of the crystals of whiskey sitting on a silver tray between them. He then took one for himself and settled back on the Victorian antique armchair. He lifted his glass and the guest did the same.

“To entitlement, something you unfortunately don’t have.” The guest did not drink, but felt somewhat mocked by his debonair host. Roth did drink, however; in fact, he slammed it down quickly. “But don’t worry, you will get that entitlement you’re looking for.”

“Perhaps you are confused about my loyalties, Mr. Roth. I’m a front man for PIPER’S, Inc. My role is crucial–”

“Crucial, yes; but indispensible, I think not,” Roth cut in. He took another crystal of whiskey and sipped it this time. “You may be the front man, perhaps even the right-hand-man at times, but a hand nevertheless. You will always be an arm’s length away from the head, the eyes and the brain of the organization. PIPER’S, Inc. has an infinite amount of hands. You can be replaced. Why? Because you’re not on the board, you’re not in the room for the important meetings, not at the table for the crucial votes. You know this to be true.”

The guest had been holding a calm and bold stare until the last few sentences in which his steely eyes wavered and pulled to the floor. Roth knew the look but didn’t take it for granted. He leaned in.

“You must know.”

“Know what?” The guest raised his eyes to meet Roth’s.

“That there is a bigger organization out there, all around us, that dwarfs PIPER’S, Inc. in size, strength and resources.

“Sir, I don’t know of such an organization.”

“But you do, sir,” Roth countered. “It’s an organization that has been in existence for centuries controlling everything and everyone of influence. Like your organization, it’s a small group that has been deciding the fates, not of individuals, but of nations. Deciding the rise and fall, not of senators or CEOs, but of world leaders – presidents, prime ministers, emperors.

“This group has been manufacturing, instigating, funding and prolonging wars the world over, why? because wars are business opportunities. Our group has been raising and crashing economies, manipulating the stock market, feeding and starving the World Bank - establishing and controlling the very pillars of power since the birth of our country. But its influence goes as far back as ancient Greece, the Romans, and even the Crucifixion, if you believe that.”

“Which one? The Crucifixion or the bullshit you just spewed about your group?”

“It’s not bullshit, sir. Before black mail, bribery and voter fraud were crimes, they were the accepted methods of control throughout ancient times. A man with your historical expertise should know this.”

The statement floated and twisted in the air like cigarette smoke under a hot lamp, offending the guest.

“You know of the groups I speak of.”

“You’re talking about the Illuminati, the Zionist Jewish Freemasons, the B’nai B’rith, the Skull and Bones – secret societies that supposedly run the world. Is this what you’re talking about, Mr. Roth?”

“A great tree has deep roots and many branches,” answered Roth, “but the trunk is its foundation. We go by different names, but the end game is always the same: world resources and global asset control. Generally speaking, we are the world’s ruling elite. A more literal title would be - the Global Capitalist Empire. And as much as we control world events, we also have contingency plans whenever that control wavers or is challenged by events beyond our control, say a great earthquake or flood, or a group of revolutionaries.” Roth gave a cool but hard look at his guest. “A group like PIPER’S, Inc.

“Suffice to say, we’ve been amused by what your organization has attempted and accomplished.”

“You mean you’re scared,” countered the guest flatly. This elicited a soft chuckle from Roth.

“You may be right, but our organization has much bigger fish to fry than your miniscule vigilante group. China, for instance, is the second largest economy in the world. Their military strength and technology is growing profoundly, soon they’ll perfect a network hacking system that will be more effective than yours. Their export-to-import ratio is around 65 to 35 percent. They’re producing everything for the world.”

“And why does that threaten you, Mr. Roth?”

“Because China is far more difficult to control than the rest of the world. They don’t play by Western rules, nor are they easily manipulated by our media, lobbyists and special interest groups.” Roth smiled coldly at his guest.

“The Chinese rule as a monolithic structure that dictates to, and holds sway over, their elite money men. Unlike our baleful Congress, their government is not controlled by their oligarchs. If a billionaire tycoon irks the government, or cheats it, he is executed, tortured or sent to a labor camp; his assets taken from him and his family scarred for life. Here in the States, such a person keeps his job, gets a promotion, gets bailed out or runs for public office. The Chinese government, not their corporate elite, controls the nation and its direction.”

“I understand, Mr. Roth. A nation like that would be hard to bring to heel, even with your global resources.”

“And that is why we must have all those assets in full control and functioning in unison here so we can eventually launch against China.”

“I guess what you’re saying is that we’ve thrown a wrench into those plans?” The guest felt a measure of comfortable control as he further fleshed out his host’s cryptic vision. Roth sensed this and dropped his smile.

“We can’t allow PIPER’S, Inc. to run the nation as it has been. You’re right; you’ve thrown a wrench into our plans and have damaged the cogs and gears we’ve had in place throughout history.” Roth, with a look of slight anger if not annoyance, leaned in. “I am a Rothschild. I am a descendant of kings, royals and monarchs. My family has been controlling the Earth and its people for centuries.” He seemed to take pride in his proclamation, but his guest was unmoved; if anything, a small simmer of animosity began to kindle just under his skin. Roth was not just an elitist snob, but met the classic PIPER’S, Inc. target profile. Roth downed his shot and continued.

“We’ve given you a few years to, shall we say, thin the herd of filth in the government and the corporate sector. But you’ve been thinning out some of the people we’ve needed to maintain our foundational goals, some of our sprockets in the great wheel. How can China see us as an equitable partner – a formidable partner – if, in their knowledge and presumed respect for our legitimate oligarchical place in history, can’t control the savages in our own jungle?”

“I don’t see why we can’t coexist,” countered the guest. “PIPER’S, Inc. doesn’t want control or world dominance; it wants justice for all Americans, to have fair and enriching livelihoods for the average citizen. We don’t desire to do anything overseas concerning foreign governments, foreign wealth or foreign investments, so you can have all of that. We couldn’t care less.”

“I wish it were that simple. You must understand that we don’t want our citizens living fair and enriching livelihoods; we don’t want them to have justice. Populations must be presented with limitations, detours and dead ends so that they’re only response is to come to us for aid and relief, aid and relief which further enslaves them.”

“Slaves fed well by their masters are still slaves, nevertheless,” countered the guest but Roth ignored him.

“This is true, but what is the Human Race other than organic beings being told what to do, how to do it, when to do it and what to think? We must maintain a mechanism of control that remains unchallenged and unchecked. We don’t want them educated or intellectually curious; we want them docile like sheep so they don’t vote or vote for the person we want.

“That’s why your takedown of FOX News hurt. Sure, they are just one of many anti-intellectual spokes on the wheel of misinformation, but we’ve depended on them to sway and influence the low information, racist, bigoted and uneducated masses for decades.”

“And it’s worked, Mr. Roth. You’ve managed to cultivate generations of idiots and dull-minded minions. That is, until we came around.”

Roth exhaled and drained his glass.

“What’s done is done. We move on.” He poured himself another and strolled to a massive wall-to-wall bookshelf that wrapped around the entire room. The guest marveled at the room’s cathedral ceilings, layered crystal chandeliers, engraved Mahogany wall paneling, Victorian furniture, Baroque wall sconces and tapestry, painted glass lamps and polished wooden floors. This was just one room in the magnificent mansion and it looked like a turn of the century library. Roth faced no less than a thousand books on the section he faced, gazing at the leather jackets standing tightly in formation.

“What you did to FOX News, to the conservative pundits, to the ultra-Right Wing talk show hosts, as well as your eradication of the narcissistic reality shows, significantly changed the media landscape and our message.”

“And what message might that be, Mr. Roth?” Roth turned around.

“That being angry and ignorant are the two mindsets that allow the type of mass control we use to make policy. We peddle fear. Fear of change, fear of knowledge, fear of progress. The corporate media, whom we control, proliferates this narrative to the idiots of society. And to what end? Politics. With control of the news media, we guide the dull masses – the sheep - to our well-funded and highly manipulated candidates. These shepherds, if you will, craft the laws and ideas we want to promote, while blocking those that affect our strategy.”

“Of course, rigged elections,” stamped the guest.

“We peddle anti-intellectualism. We don’t want citizens to think for themselves, do research or be given tools to understand the underpinnings of our doctrine; and thus, the candidates we choose block educational funding, raise the price of university tuition, and lower teachers’ pay.”

“You won’t get far with those tactics now that John Belleci is in charge of Education,” retorted the guest.

“Indeed, Dr. Belleci is one of those wrinkles that we will one day have to iron out.”

The guest glared at Roth at this inference.

“We don’t want protests, or anti-establishment people speaking out; that’s dangerous. We want society docile, accepting of authority who will tell them how to think, what to do and how to behave. We do much of this passively with reality TV.”

“What do you mean?”

“There are millions of stay-at-home moms, tens of millions of unemployed dads, men and students who spend hundreds of hours a month in front of their TVs. They don’t read, they don’t go to museums, they don’t advance their knowledge. They’re lazy, stupid or lack any sense of intellectual curiosity. It takes something idiotic like the old Pokémon Go craze to get them outside their pathetic existences.” Roth chuckled. “For these mindless people, these great flocks of sheep – reality shows are a great venue to further dull their minds, don’t you think?”

The guest thought about this and had to agree with Roth’s logic.

“With the reality shows, we fill the curious and ignorant viewers with empty entertainment, narcissism, shock drama and envy. This works to further dumb them down and keep them from thinking logically. Whether you see it directly or indirectly, such shows are all part of politics. John Belleci was right when he said, ‘The dumbing down of America - whether through reality shows, reliance on technical gadgets or religion - is purely a political strategy to control the masses.’”

Roth turned around and came forward to retrieve another crystal of whiskey. He looked at his guest sternly.

“We pay so many people handsomely, but our payments are no longer potent thanks to PIPER’S, Inc. That’s why we’ve said nothing till now. Your murdering of corporate media moguls and politicians has put a large thorn in our side.”

“Please forgive me if I don’t offer you any apologies or condolences, Mr. Roth,” replied the guest emotionlessly.

“PIPER’S, Inc. has killed off many of our frontline assets. This is not good. You’ve shifted the balance of power away from us, and now some of our remaining assets fear you more than their commitment to us.”

“Death does tend to sway the hearts and minds of unscrupulous people,” the guest said mockingly.

“You’ve gotten our attention.”

“Good, then it’s working,” answered the guest. “Dr. Turnbull’s ultimate vision is, in fact, working.” Roth shook his head.

“No. PIPER’S, Inc. is fading.”

“How so?”

“Since you’ve done so much to better society and the economy, a large number of your members have left the organization, have gone back to their normal lives, or off to enjoy the riches they’ve earned.”

“And how would you know that?”

“We have our sources, too. But most of the news can be seen on mercenary and paramilitary blogs. Dozens of articles have been written about former Ghosts going off to fight against ISIS, South American and Philippine drug cartels, or against Russian troops in former Soviet countries.”

The guest could not disagree. This was exactly what was happening to members who weren’t used to the current low tempo of operations. For these highly-trained warriors, two straight years of non-stop tactical purging of their own country was a pleasure. It was not only the operations, but the economic and social positivity that reflected upon the acts, that kept them feeling proud and loyal to the organization. More than the money, fundamentally restructuring the nation under their watch is what drove them, kept them sharp and on their game.

But a year and a half of one or two ops per month was causing complacency, boredom and a dulling of the blade that was once razor sharp.

Many, including some of the Ghosts’ most talented and lethal combatants, had left PIPER’S, Inc. They ended their contracts, signed non-disclosure agreements and carried off millions of dollars in severance pay. Some returned to their homes, communities, and families; some searched out different roads like buying farms, studying Buddhism in Asia, starting businesses, returning to university, traveling or volunteering for global charities. And some simply disappeared in the world, eventually ending contact with their Ghost colleagues who remained.

Then there were those groups of men and women who still needed to feed their inner warriors, and perhaps, purge their inner demons. They journeyed to foreign lands to fight as mercenaries, security agents, weapons providers, foreign military advisors, armed escorts, Intel experts or militia organizers. For them, PIPER’S, Inc. was great training, but it wasn’t as exciting as fighting terrorists or insurgents who were trained to shoot back. Like a championship sports team that begins to lose its core as stars are traded, retire or don’t re-sign their contracts, PIPER’S, Inc. was, in fact, splintering.

Roth came to the table and filled both their glasses with fresh ice and scotch. He looked at his guest with frank but sympathetic eyes.

“Let’s be honest. You must know that your director, Dale Turnbull, is losing his grip on the organization. He’s getting on in years.”

“How do you know Dr. Turnbull?”

“You don’t make it to my position without knowing who the chess masters are. And since I’m in the business of creating chess masters, Turnbull has always been an anomaly. But you need to know that he’s on his last legs. He’s accomplished his mission in life. There is peace, there is prosperity, there is a new American society. Why does he need to continue?”

“Because he doesn’t believe he’s done enough. There’s always a way to improve. He would like a Utopian America.”

“Well, we all know that he won’t have that no matter how many people he kills,” Roth countered delicately. “How melancholy he must feel to preside over a tribunal in which half its members are about to retire. He’s tired, and he knows that you can’t keep an army sharp when the war is over.”

The guest said nothing, only looked at Roth with eyes subtly betraying his concurrence.

“He knew it was coming just by the amount of members who filed to end their contracts. All those severance checks he had to sign, all those final pep talks and farewells; he saw the writing on the wall as early as last year.” Roth finished his drink leisurely without averting his eyes from his guest. “It’s just a matter of time before PIPER’S, Inc. disbands altogether. There won’t be any more work for you to do. There will not be a Utopia. There won’t be any one left to kill.” He smiled.

“There’s always someone to kill,” murmured the guest. “Perhaps I can do the organization a favor and kill you right now, Mr. Roth. I’m sure you’re somewhere on the master list.”

“Interesting,” Roth replied with narrow scrutinizing eyes. “Why don’t you know? Why don’t you know who’s on the master list?” The guest looked away knowing that Roth was about to get the upper hand again. “Because you’re not part of that upper echelon. You’re just a soldier who takes orders. How it must burn you to know there are board members who’ve never left the compound to go on missions; unlike you, with countless kills under your belt. You’ve risked your life everyday and what did they do? Shower you with praise? Money? Not nearly enough, is it?”

The guest remained silent, slowly stewing in the vat of irony and truth.

“You’re not part of management, you’re not even being considered for a post, and as long as you stay you’re always going to be the most qualified worker who never gets that one dream promotion. The promotion you deserve. And here’s what’s truly sad, the way the organization is going with its drawdown and lack of business, you’re bound to be asked to leave.”

The guest rumbled with anger without moving a muscle, without blinking an eye. He wanted to reach across the table and rip Roth’s throat out with one hand. Roth felt it. He felt the heat, the incendiary work-up to rage coming off the guest’s skin.

“Like a temp whose services are no longer needed – believe me, you will be asked to leave.”

Roth’s statements were sharp but not lethal. They stung and bled a little but not enough to apply a tunicate, at least, not yet. Death by a thousand cuts. It irritated the guest to hear these things from a man of such wealth and privilege, but it hurt even worse to know that he was probably right.

“Yes, I know you can kill me, right here, with your bare hands. You’re a magnificent warrior. Your entire body is a weapon. I, on the other hand, am not armed except. . .for this pen.” Roth reached into his coat pocket and retrieved a pen, then he reached into the drawer of the table they were seated at and pulled out a document folder. He opened it and took out a small stack of paperwork. He laid the pen on the documents and interlaced his fingers prayer-like on the desk.

“I can see it in your eyes,” Roth teased, “your rage, your frustration and your envy. They’ve given you so much money, but you’d give all that up to be in a position of leadership, influence and counsel.

“All these things Turnbull has denied you; in fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s spending much of his free time penning his memoirs for a future bestselling book. Or, contemplating the meaning of life from the standpoint of an embattled heroic luminary who has nothing more to do than shower the world with his wisdom. Or, even more laughable – how he can create his Utopian society.” Roth gently laughed. The guest’s face remained stoic although deep inside he was smoldering with frustration at how right Roth was.

“Whatever he’s doing, it surely doesn’t have anything to do with you and your future.” Roth watched his guest’s jaw tighten and flex his fingers, no longer able to contain his equanimity. He saw it and went in for the kill.

“Like I said, I am only armed with a pen, but it is indeed mightier than a sword. It is certainly mightier than Turnbull. I offer you a new door, my friend. I offer a new type of management opportunity that requires your experience, your temperament, and the loyalty you’ve shown to Turnbull.” He canted his head confidently.

“More importantly, I offer you a satisfaction, an intrinsic self-gratification, that your toil and industry will always be rewarded, recognized, respected – something even the Great Piper Turnbull himself would never consider to offer someone like you.” He glanced at the pen and back to his guest.

“In my world, the pen will always be mightier than the sword; it is, after all, the pen that swings the sword. For with a stroke of this pen, sir, I guarantee, your life is going to change.”