ThornScope_Federation of Europe

by KC McLaren

  Chapter 8 | The Gathering

  STRICKLAND PUT HIS MOBILE BACK on the desk and opened the drawer. He took out a small security device and switched it on, then opened his Saville Row bespoke tailored jacket and clipped it onto the trouser belt. A cautious man, Strickland left nothing to chance, the device subtlety vibrated informing him of anyone entering was trying to detect his surveillance equipment. Friend or foe, it didn’t matter. It was always good to know who one could trust in this world, and from his point rule number one was trust no one. He gazed around the room satisfied in the knowledge he had the best safety measures installed that money could buy. Placing a hand on the device he petted it as one petted a dog, faithful in the knowledge the little thing always looked after its master.

  He buzzed his assistant Christopher, “Please bring my guests in,” not waiting for a reply he stood up and walked over to the main study door. He walked passed the oak table and looked at the French crafted box, ‘Time to go to work then’.

  The big oak panel door opened.

  “Gentlemen,” he beamed, “I’m so very, very pleased to see you all again.”

  First to enter, Member of Parliament for Tatton, the Rt. Hon. Mr. Roger Brown. He shook Strickland’s hand with a firm and warm display of mutual respect, “Ah, David, it’s good to see you again.”

  Strickland and Brown had been at Oxford together. They both shared a definitive passion for politics but came from different backgrounds, Strickland raised in a modest middle class family, Brown born into wealth. Brown was not only a serving Conservative Government minister he was the Chancellor of the Exchequer. Brown referred to their relationship as the odd couple with common goals. Something Strickland found difficult to grasp, never understanding the joke.

  Still shaking hands Strickland said, “My assistant has made up briefing packs on the EU discussions on the apparent discussions we’ve had today. They will be in your car before you leave Roger.” The pack was an easy cover in case Brown needed to account for his whereabouts. “There’s also other items of interest in the pack for your consideration.”

  “So long as the EU is not asking for more money, David,” Roger replied with a wink, “Thank you.” He raised an eyebrow, “Other items of interest? I don’t like surprises.”

  Strickland laughed, “Don’t worry, nothing of importance. I’m sure you’ll understand when you see what they are.”

  Too right you will see what they are Strickland thought to himself and watched with secret glee as Roger tried to hide the nervousness on his face. Strickland saw through it though.

  Next to enter was Reginald D. Jacobs. Jacobs shook Strickland’s hand only after he offered it. Described as a “sneaky son-of-a-bitch” by his adversaries, Jacobs had scaled the rocky heights of the UK’s Security Services. He adhered to a simple mantra - do unto others before they do unto you. He was a master of dirty tricks and there were few in London who had dared to cross Jacobs’s path. Those that had, hadn’t survived long.

  Jacobs, a slight man of wiry build with lugubrious features, was the mirror opposite of the large always cheerful dark-haired Brown. What the Director General of MI5 lacked in physical stature he more than made up in intellect. That intelligence, coupled with a genius for strategy, had made him the longest serving head of MI5 in its history. And it did not stop there. While MI5 was the UK’s internal Security Services, there wasn’t a covert operation in MI6 conducted that didn’t have Jacobs’s fingerprints over it.

  They both looked at one another knowing what the other was thinking, both had their little devices vibrating at their sides.

  Last to enter was James Henry Stewart, a hard hitting rags-to-riches-multi-billionaire-media-magnate, and at eighty-two by far the oldest member of the group. He had made his vast fortune the hard way, sheer spit and guts. Learned from being raised by his ever loving prostitute of a mother and his adoring, drunken, wife-beating excuse for a father. Not that he held a grudge. At thirteen years old, and after taking a typical drunken fuelled beating, he killed his father. Stabbed him without malice or pity a dozen times or more. The best way to stop holding a grudge, in Stewart’s mind, was to remove the hindrance or object at the center of it. Helped with a cane in hand he walked into the room and said his hello. A nod of arrogance towards each of them. No handshaking, not at his age and station in life. It was no longer something he did. Most men earned respect, others commanded it. Stewart believed he needed neither. He thought himself as the most powerful in the room and had no intention of hiding his aloofness and condescending manner towards them. The tedious plans of these little power grabbing hungry politicians, as he called them, bored him. Throughout life he had seen it often and didn’t need to hold office or be in the limelight, people came to him. He was the power master, the puppet player. Even if their small minded plans did not come to fruition, it still gave him control of the best prized assets in the European Union. Although, he had to admit to himself, he had a small admiration for Strickland and his uses, but even this little puppy needed to be house trained. “Well young, David,” he said to Strickland as a father spoke to a naughty troublesome child. “It’s time we got this dirty little conspiracy of yours started son, it’s long enough overdue.”

  Stewart’s curt and condescending manner annoyed Strickland. But he had calculated long ago the man’s worn-out self-aggrandizement was the old bugger’s greatest weakness. The old goat had served his purpose, and that was access to vast sums of money. In the next fifteen minutes he, Strickland, was to take the biggest gamble of his life. The next play could well bring the house of cards tumbling and him along with it. “It’s nice to see you again, James,” he said smiling. “Tea anyone?” No-one but Jacobs drank tea at these meetings.

  They walked the short distance across the wooden floor to the north wing corner of the study. The corner held a grand fire place burning bright and warm, around it brown leather vintage wing-back chairs and at each side a day table. Between the burning fireplace and the chairs, a long antique coffee table stood. Strickland, the last to sit, took the seat facing the fireplace. He picked up the phone on his table and without waiting for reply said, “Bring in the beverages.”

  Another door to his left, not as grand as the main one, opened and two men dressed in black suits and ties brought in a trolley with a small buffet. One of them placed the food on the coffee table while the other poured drinks and an earl grey tea for Jacobs. Strickland dismissed them with a wave of his hand, “So my good friends, we come to the end of the beginning. A decade of work, planning, setbacks and achievements leading to this final moment. The final phase.”

  Stewart, sitting to the right of Strickland, impatient rolled his eyes and stared into space. “We’ve heard this before, have you started the Greece phase?”

  He didn’t reply, instead took a sip of his whiskey, savouring the taste.

  “Well man!” Stewart went on as gruff as ever, “I’ve poured a huge amount of resource into your little project, and as yet not seen the return I expect.”

  Strickland returned his glass to the table and leaned back in his chair. He wanted to remove Stewart from the group long ago, but the resources he brought to the table were just too significant. However, over the last five years and without Stewart’s knowledge, changes had occurred in organisation. Changes which brought an end to this ancient dinosaur’s over fuelled ego. When they had first met, Stewart had been a main donator of the Labour party, money for favours, and regardless of public opinion, a necessary evil.

  Strickland put his drink back on the table, “James, we’ve discussed your so called demands in-depth. There is more than your money involved.”

  “Wait a minute young man!” Stewart shot back, “What about the private discussions we’ve had and agreed? Are you saying those are no longer part of the arrangement? I’ve gone too far with this and what I want is what I’m owed.”

  “James,” replied Strickland, “as you know the changes enforced by the European Commission over the last two
decades is something the UK can neither ignore nor allow to continue.”

  Stewart interrupted, “I know your plans and political manoeuvrings, but it’s time we stood up and realise that this charade is all about money. A vast amount, and I want my share.”

  Strickland ignored the remarks, “The UK referendum two years ago took our organisation’s planning and instigation to lead to a leave vote. It cemented the country on its path. But now, led by a spineless Prime Minister, the UK government is weak. The Brexit negotiations are all one sided. Our country is being undermined at every diplomatic turn by those faceless bureaucrats in the EU. They are dragging us back in and threatening the core of our sovereign state. If they want a Federation of Europe, we will give them one. Our next phase will make sure we take full control of the EU and put Britain into the heart of controlling it. Its rightful place,”

  Again, Stewart interrupted, “You can’t stop what I want and what we’ve agreed. It’s all in motion. I need to have assurances that Greece will fall flat on its ass so my company can buy up the rights to the media outlets as agreed.”

  Yes, thought Strickland, for you it’s always been about the money. And what you want is already in the making, by your company, not you. “Your company will have its rewards, but don’t forget the main objectives. If we do, your company won’t get a penny along with the UK isolated by the political will of bureaucrats in Brussels, governed by Germany. The achievements of this great country and her history will not be side-lined by the same people we fought against to keep its independence and sovereignty. And you won’t side-line them either.”

  Stewart replied, “Oh dear boy you talk the good talk. Queen and Country? You can’t fool me. Without my financial backing you won’t be getting a damn penny, it’s time you learned who is in charge here!”

  Strickland smiled, a man worth billions and still he cries out for more. Now it’s time to move forward in our last little game of play for you. Just one more hook to drag your old body into the water, but we won’t be throwing the baby out with it. Strickland was enjoying himself now. He pressed a hidden button under the table. A door opened, the two men appeared and walked over to stand next to the large oak table.

  “David, why are these two gentlemen here? It’s rather ungracious,” Brown said.

  Stewart stood and looked at the two men, “I don’t give a fuck who’s here, this meeting is over, with it my money. How dare you, you believe you can intimidate me with two of your bully fuck heads?” He pointed to the French crafted box on the oak table, “What’s in the box, evidence to blackmail me into submission, or worse? You’ve tried that before on others. Fuck you!”

  It was time. Strickland, raised both eyebrows with a slight upward nod of his head to the two men. Everyone focused their gaze on them. One strode over and grabbed Stewart by the shoulders, turned him face around and with ease forced his body back into the chair.

  Chapter 9 | Take the Lift?

  DIMITRI DIDN’T BOTHER USING THE LIFT, instead went through the emergency exit to the right and pushed the door open with such force it snapped back on him. He may have been in his late sixties but was much fitter than most people twenty years younger. It only took a few minutes to descend the two floors before exciting the stairwell, he then waived his access badge against the security door and entered the IT department.

  The department was the largest in the building covering a full floor of the ten story building. Despite many other cut backs Dimitri had kept a solid budget ring fenced around IT. He liked and trusted the head of Systems, Andrew Hutchinson, a British expatriate. Since his arrival two years ago Andrew had transformed the banking computer systems in the building. He had played a major role in reforming the technology infrastructure for the entire banking system throughout Greece. Dimitri tried not to be influenced by the never-ending circle of credit denial and the constant need to chase corruption in his country. It was a constant game of catch up, as one loophole of tax evasion method closed, several more appeared.

  A man of power and authority, Dimitri was also pragmatic and, like many in Greece that held similar positions, he had made his millions. Money gained from the sacrifice of stability, diverted from the poverty-stricken and promoted by back-handers and tax cheats. He wasn’t proud of his wealth and given the choice he would give it away. But this was Greece, it was part of the country’s culture, engrained in its history.

  He reminded himself, Greece’s financial woes were the burden of people like him and he knew the amounts, amounts which he and the government hide from the outside world. If the masters in Brussels knew the full truth? Greece would be excluded from the financial markets. But so long as they hid the real truth, and regardless of the cost to keep the euro stable, those same masters would keep pouring money into the country and give debt relief. And if Greece fell? The EU project would suffer as much if not more and whilst he never aired his views in public, Greece had become nothing more than a money laundering conduit. No matter how much water he bailed out of this titanic sinking ship, the more holes appeared.

  And this was the exact reason they had an impressive IT System, at least it kept a believable front. Without doubt a delicate one, complicated and bordered on death every single hour of the day.

  As he entered the department Andrew was waiting at the elevator. Dimitri walked over and Andrew turned around, he held an iMac tablet, a worried look on his face.

  “What’s wrong, Andrew? You don’t look too well.”

  “Sir... I don’t know what to say. The systems, it’s the systems... We have...” He stopped mid-sentence, his fingers tapped on the screen, unable to get his words out.

  “Andrew, pull yourself together and give me a full update.” Dimitri replied, his impatience faded.

  Dimitri saw beads of sweat appear on Andrew’s forehead and felt every nerve in his own body twitch. Unlike himself, Andrew’s views on corruption circled on rumours, conjecture and speculation. But they both understood from the data Andrew’s team processed around the clock, Greece was bordering on a disaster much worse than most people could ever understand.

  He had put faith in Andrew’s ability to update the bank’s computer systems and he did so to an exceptional high standard. The substantial changes implemented over the last two years had played a significant role in keeping Greece afloat, and now?

  He brought Andrew back to the current situation, “Andrew, let’s go to your office and discuss this further. You need to sit and explain what is happening.”

  “Sir,” Andrew couldn’t contain himself any longer, “in the last ten minutes there’s been over one-billion euro’s in exceptional banking transactions made. It continues to escalate at an unbelievable rate.” His voice, getting louder, attracted attention from others in the department. “Although the transactions are flagged, security alarms have not activated. I can’t understand why…” continued Andrew, almost in panic mode.

  Dimitri couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He grabbed hold of Andrew by both shoulders and glanced back over his own shoulder to see staff standing up from their desks trying to get a better view. “Andrew, you have to be calm. Shut up now…” he commanded.

  “But Sir, I need to…” he replied.

  “Not here Andrew. Your office, now.” It was not a request. Andrew straightened up and Dimitri took hold of his arm and more or less frog-marched him to his office. They entered and with a loud thud behind him Dimitri closed the door. Andrew sat, but it was obvious to Dimitri the way he stared at the tablet screen, being calm was the last thing on Andrew’s mind.

  Dimitri remained on his feet but felt his own panic raise, “Now tell me as best as you can. What's happening what’s needed to put us back on track?”

  “I’m sorry, Sir. I’ve just never seen this before…”

  “OK, OK… Be calm.” Dimitri replied. His forehead broke out in a sweat but he tried with all his strength to stay calm himself.

  Andrew took a deep breath. “Mr Christakos, our security syst
ems have detected nothing out of the ordinary. It’s as if every flagged transaction has approval to go ahead without intervention.”

  Dimitri interrupted again as his own panic rose another notch, “How could that be? There are safe guards in place...”

  “Yes, Sir, and that’s the point. The security systems report all is normal. But banking institutes and businesses in Greece have paid back money owed to the Central Bank. Debts and loans the Central Bank has, had or are involved in, are being paid back to its creditors.” Andrew paused, he too was short of breath trying to explain everything all at once. “Not only that, many individual clients and ordinary citizens have also paid outstanding debt back to their creditors including mortgage payments that are not due for weeks. It’s not possible.”

  “Oh my God. How many…” Dimitri stuttered, “… for Christ’s sake how many people are affected?” He was finding it hard to breathe and realised. “That would mean…” he felt a sharp pain spike in his head and stopped him in mid-sentence.

  Andrew completed Dimitri’s last sentence “leaving their bank balances overdrawn and in debt. We are talking tens of thousands of people. From what I can judge the majority of transactions involve organisations and banking partners throughout the world, including the IMF and the major banking institutes in Europe.”

  “That’s impossible,” Dimitri blurted out powerless to stop himself. “Turn the systems off, we have to stop this madness. How can you stop it Andrew? What needs to be done?” The usual calm that helped build his career, disappeared. He was no longer asking, he was pleading.

  Oh my God, he thought. So many transactions would trigger banks throughout Greece to stop dispensing money from ATM’s, denying access to funds for many people. The panic would cascade out of control.

  “Mr Christakos,” Andrew hesitated once more. “I can’t. Our systems are integrated into every banking institute in Greece and Europe. Even if I could just switch our systems off the transaction codes and authority to pay and collect are executing at such a rate…” He left the statement hanging.