The Waiter continued to watch as the pilot and two other men stood around the aircraft. Soon, the pilot boarded the helicopter and started it back up. The helicopter lifted off and proceeded in the direction from where it originated.
The Waiter spent much of the afternoon watching these events, replay again and again – all told, about 5 times a helicopter landed and a fat man went into the cabin. And five times the helicopter lifted off the ground and flew away.
Ultimatum – T minus 3 Hours
At just past midnight, Brandy heard something curious. A car’s engine started. And then she saw lights, as though headlights from an automobile. She watched and listened as the car proceeded toward the property entrance. After the engine noise receded, she heard voices – shouting – off in the distance; but she couldn’t make out what was said.
Silence ensued and time passed.
And then, she heard another engine start. This time a truck. And it too drove toward the entrance. As time wore on, she heard more cars – some driving off; but others seemed to be coming in.
Bill came over and crawled on the floor to her position. She wasn't the only one who was curious. “What do you think?”
“I don't know,” Brandy whispered. “I'm hearing cars starting their engines. I think they're driving off, but there may be some coming in too.”
“Well, let's stay loose.”
“Okay.”
* * * * *
The air was taking on a chill. The Waiter glanced at his watch, noting it was 5:00 pm. Heaving a deep sigh, he settled in with a dinner of protein bars and water, watching and waiting.
He noted two large vents protruding from the roof. Fireplaces? He mused. Must be several living areas – but that makes sense for such a large home. As he took another bite of 'dinner', he noticed the vent closest to the living room emitting smoke where none had been. At first, it was the dark smoke of a cold fire. But then the smoke soon became nearly invisible as the fire’s intensity grew.
An hour passed, and the Waiter looked on as a couple of men sauntered out onto the front porch. Security men, he thought. They sat down and smoked – and talked into the early evening. Soon, the cabin settled into an evening of quiet and peacefulness, and the Waiter headed back to his camp, making ready for bed.
But before he retired, he checked and rechecked his primary and backup magazines; making certain that each magazine was topped off with two .50 caliber armor piercing incendiary rounds, followed by 8 rounds of standard .50 caliber ball ammo.
After finalizing his checklist, he crawled into his tent for an early night's sleep. Big day tomorrow!
Restless, he tossed and turned for a time; but he finally drifted off into a deep sleep ...
“... it's the bankers, I tell you. It's the bankers. You just watch – they'll squeeze the money and cause widespread economic pain. Foreclosures, unemployment, abject poverty, death-dealing starvation, and war – endless war – is what they’ll bring. We must stop them; for they will otherwise kill hundreds of millions, if not billions of people.”
“Aw c'mon Dwayne. Nobody has that kind of power. You're just some bloody conspiracy nut!”
“... you just watch Stuart. They’ll kill this planet and bury everyone on it. Ya don't believe me? Just watch!”
Ultimatum – T minus 5 Minutes
Zero hour was approaching – 3:00 am. And without being aware of it, Brandy was holding her rifle closer, her hand tightening ever so slightly around the pistol grip. She could feel a cold sweat under her armpits; and with the hours of immobility, her hands had a slight tremble. Shit! Why did we decide to do this? Oh my God!
Brandy glanced at the illuminated dial of her watch. It read 2:55 am. She waited, her senses keen to any sound, any rustle, any movement. But there was no sound; there was only time and darkness – and it was oppressive!
She again looked at her watch – 3:00 am – zero hour. And nothing stirred.
She felt the weight of darkness and time descend on her, as though a slab of granite enclosed her in a stone coffin.
She waited.
Interlude
The massive stone fireplace stands against the wall – solid, immovable. And within the fireplace is a blazing fire, a fire of tall dancing flames. The flames cast flickering shadows across the walls, seemingly dancing all the more because of the contour of the logs.
Five chairs are arranged in front of the fireplace, leather upholstered all. And in each chair there sits a man, a man enjoying the cigar of his choice, and a snifter of old, rare brandy. Serenity and peace permeate the chamber – even the rising smoke moves in peace, wafting into the air and merging with the smoke from other cigars.
The men are talking ...
“A nice piece of work, that Syria, gentlemen. Nice!” Lord Basil announced, the smoke from his cigar wafting upward as he waved his arms in a flourish. “And with the revolutions in the other countries – Egypt, Libya; and with the near-death condition of the European financial system – we are indeed on the threshold of the world-wide depression we have so long been seeking.”
“Gentlemen. I propose a toast. To greater empire – to our empire! Le’chaim!”
“Le’chaim!” The men raised their glasses in a salute.
Lord Basil cleared his throat. “Well, gentlemen, are we agreed on our next course of action?”
Lord Basil listened as each man in turn voiced his assent.
“Fine,” Lord Basil continued. “At our meeting tomorrow, we shall inform Daniel of our decisions. But for now, let us adjourn for the evening.”
Lord Basil stood up and stretched. His gaze took in the great room, the log walls and rustic atmosphere. Thoughts of the lodge flew quickly through his mind ... the north side where the kitchen and servants were kept, and the south side great room where his ‘group’ met – and, of course, their rustic but elegant bedroom suites situated just off the great room.
Head held high, he walked the short distance to his bedroom. He grasped the door handle and turned it – the door opened. This is so primitive. He sighed. But, it does have its allure!
He undressed and crawled under the covers. The high altitude always makes me tired, he thought. He was quickly asleep ...
Ultimatum – Zero Hour Passes
“Huh ugh!” Brandy shuddered as she felt something touch her shoulder. She grabbed her rifle before her eyes opened. “Wha – what? What's going on!” She turned her head quickly, first to her left, and then right, trying to see through blurry half-shut eyes. She was still half-asleep. Shit! Where’s the darkness – I can see! What happened?
She looked up and found Bill leaning over her. And then she looked out the window – off to the sky and to the horizon. It was still low light – very low light. But the sun was spreading its glow from below the horizon.
And then she looked into the open field, shrouded by the dark shadows of the trees. She continued her gaze, allowing her eyes to adjust to the low-light and contrast of the shadows. And then she turned to Bill. “What? What's that mean? Where’s the cars? The trucks? The trailers?” She paused, still disoriented. “What happened?”
Bill was calm. “I don't know, Brandy. But I do know that they’re no longer on the other side of the house either.”
Brandy's eyes grew wide. “Huh? Where’d they go?”
Bill frowned and said, “I don't know. For all we know, they may still be lurking around.”
“Wow,” Brandy exclaimed.
“Wow is right,” Bill replied with a smirk, “I think we best keep a lookout for ‘em – let's wait and see.”
* * * * *
The Waiter's wristwatch had an alarm. It buzzed at 4:00 am, two hours before daybreak. The Waiter gulped down cold coffee and protein bars. At 4:30, he picked up his rifle and headed down to the perch.
During his reconnaissance, the Waiter had noticed a very important fact. The front door faced out on the east side of the cabin; and the back door faced out on the north side – toward the northwest c
orner. Interestingly, a propane tank was positioned along the north wall of the cabin, between the northeast corner and the back door. The Waiter's perch was situated on a line east north east of the east corner of the cabin; so the Waiter had an excellent view of the front porch and the propane tank, but a more difficult line of sight to the back door.
But the back door will soon not matter, he reflected. His eyes seemed to catch fire even as his lips tightened.
The Waiter settled into his perch, making sure he was submerged into the ground cover and hidden behind the tree line. He checked the flag flying on the pole near the southeast corner – the same flag that the helicopter pilots used to estimate wind direction and speed when they landed – and noted there was a soft wind blowing from north to south. He had checked out this site before with a range finder, so he knew the distance to the cabin was 900 meters – about 2900 feet. He adjusted for side-to-side wind with one click on his scope, and he adjusted the elevation of his muzzle up two clicks.
There was a grim aura about him, as though he were shrouded in death itself. This will be like shooting fish in a barrel, he reflected.
The Waiter peered into the scope toward his first target – the propane tank. He took a normal breath and exhaled, allowing his muscles to relax even as he took up the slack in the trigger. He squeezed. Boom! Just like every first shot, the Waiter was surprised when the rifle fired; just as he was surprised by the rifle's recoil. But then, he could almost feel the armor piercing incendiary round traveling toward its target. He reacquired the target through his scope and watched the bullet flash and explode as it hit the tank. And then – BOOM! The tank exploded, seemingly in slow motion as it released a firebomb of combustible gas. The Waiter watched as the motion accelerated, and all at once the explosive flames and shrapnel obliterated the north wall of the cabin, engulfing much of the cabin's north side. And then the firebomb spread further, up over the top of the building, engulfing much of the cabin's roof.
And in the rush of heat and flames, the screaming began. Blood-curdling screams of pain – pain so intense their screams were calling for mercy. But mercy was not to be had this day. Death through fire is a slow-motion process, and an agonizing experience. The victim first screams in pain as his body is engulfed, and then the victim becomes numb. He might look at his burning hand as though it were a lit match, even as the fire steals more of his oxygen. Ultimately, the victim dies from superheated gas entering his lungs.
A flaming figure burst through the front door. And then another. And then survivors came out – men without flames – naked, afraid, and vulnerable. Hell! They're just men after all, he reflected with some surprise. And then a cold feeling came over The Waiter as he peered into his scope, acquired a target, and squeezed the trigger – extinguishing each life in turn.
* * *
Boom! Lord Basil sat upright in his bed. What is that! My God, that was loud! He heard an approaching roar – a screaming crescendo – as though a train were running over a trestle above him. And then the screams; blood-curdling screams off in the distance. Oh shit, he thought as he heard the roar close by. Despite his bulky frame, he pushed the bed clothes out of the way and jumped up. He moved quickly to the door and opened it.
Out in the hallway, two of his brethren were standing at their doors. “What is that!” Julius yelled.
“I don't know.” Basil replied. “But it's getting closer!”
Basil went into the room and grabbed his shoes. He ran out of his bedroom, and down the hall. He entered the great room. Looking up, he saw the ceiling completely engulfed in flames, and the flames quickly descending down the walls. The room will be involved in a matter of seconds, he thought.
Basil ran to the north side of the room. He darted into the north hallway. His cohorts were nipping at his heels as he emerged into the den – it was already engulfed in fire. No choice, he thought. He held his breath and raced through the fire, into the foyer. He made his way to the front door. It's open. Thank God!
He ran through the doorway and out into the cold air. The fire, the excitement, the fear, and now the cold. What? What's goin on? Where am I? He thought. He swayed, trying desperately to re-orient himself.
Boom! And there was a pause. Boom!
What the fuck! What are those noises? He thought.
And then he felt it. A kick to his chest, as though an elephant had stomped him and slammed him into the ground.
Oh my ...
Epilogue
“... and here we are,” the old man spat as he wiped his nose.
Silence descended on the room. Tim and Squirt remained seated, quiet, looking down at the floor as they absorbed the import of the old man’s tale.
Squirt was the first to speak. “Wow,” she breathed, the words coming ever so softly.
And then silence ensued ...
Squirt looked up and gazed at the old man. “So, what happened to Bill and Brandy? To Murray? To Dwayne and Trish?”
The grizzled old man smiled. “Well,” he began, “that’s the good news.” He paused and then continued. “You see, the Feds went away. They never invaded the house ‘cause the federal government ceased to exist. And all them federal agents had to go home and protect their families!”
The old man paused and then continued. “So Bill and Brandy – and the rest of ‘em – they built their bank. And paper money was not allowed. Yep, they built their bank and the bank has helped to create a great prosperity up in that part of the world. Of course, they’re still rebuilding; but they live quite well up there – food, medicine, shelter – they have plenty. Hell, it’s one of the few places on Earth where people still thrive!”
“Damn!” Said Squirt.
The two pondered this new information.
Finally, Tim broke the silence. “So, where do we go from here?”
“Well,” the old man responded, “history tells us that every paper money system ever created has failed – just as the dollar has now collapsed. But this failure was much worse than the others, because dollars were held in reserve by central banks all around the world!”
The old man paused and then went on. “If we're smart, we'll only use gold and silver for money; and we'll let the free market determine the value of the money – not some banker or government bureaucrat. After all, this is mostly what our founders intended when they wrote our Constitution!”
“You see,” the old man continued, “government and bankers are always tempted by paper money – because paper gives ‘em so much power. This is why they must never again hold this power – and that’s truth!”
“Ya know,” Squirt responded, “a year ago, you would’ve sounded like a conspiracy nut.”
“Yeah, well,” the old man responded, “times change, now don’t they.”
And then Tim interjected with a question. “So who are you? What’s your part in all this?”
“Heh!” He spat through his toothless lips. He paused and took in the couple. And then his mouth formed the shape of a crooked moon. “Well, you probably guessed by now. But if you didn’t, I’m Jim Martin – formerly the chief economist at the Federal Reserve.”
Their eyes widening, Tim and Squirt turned and looked knowingly at each other. And then Squirt exclaimed, “What happened to you? How did you wind up here?”
“After I left the Fed, I moved to New York and worked at one of the investment banks for a while. But it didn’t take long before I had my belly full of their shit, and so I decided to prepare for what was coming.”
Tim gestured to the diaries still sitting in their boxes. “So what do you think? Can we go through ‘em?”
Jim responded with a gleam in his eye. “Yeah. There’s truth in there – and the world needs truth for a change!”
Squirt bounded over to the nearest box and picked up a book. She opened it up in the middle and read aloud, “... the money changers were ruthless. And Karl and I had to develop a new strategy for –”
“Now. Now,” Jim interjected. “I need a
bit of help with my ankle first.”
Squirt looked at her host with sympathy, and said “Then can we look? Huh?”
“After we eat,” Jim replied.
Squirt closed the book and gazed at the old man.
THE END
Author’s note: If you enjoyed this book, then I ask that you please provide a review on Amazon.com. This will help other people to find this story, and it will help me to better promote this story.
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ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
I do not know how anyone trying any novel can do it without sympathy, help, and faith of friends.
No one who has tried has had better friends than I.
CAST OF CHARACTERS
Episode 4 (Endgame)
Lord Basil
Ultra wealthy banker.
Daniel Elsbach
Lord Basil's strategist.
Bill Ford
Former engineer and Freedom Dollar Partner.
Brandy West
Former banker and Freedom Dollar Partner.
Murray Hofstadler
Chief Engraver of the Golden Mint.
Dwayne Jeffrey
Rare coin and precious metals dealer.
Patricia Jeffrey
Dwayne's wife.
Joshua Lindt
Commodities trader for AB Jorday.
End of the World Page 28
