“What does that mean?” Tim asked, clearly confused.
“Well, an example of what I’m talking about goes something like this: let’s say a hurricane is approaching Honduras and the demise of tens of thousands of Hondurans is almost certain according to meteorologists. We would discuss every scenario from potential damage, loss, transfer of political power, their banking and financial consequences, and possible solutions for rebuilding. And all of this happened only minutes after the event hit the news. It was like our own high-paced, up-to-the-minute news and commentary show. It was fast, furious and fun. But the bastards were using our intelligence and analytical abilities to sell our thoughts that collectively determined who could profit from everything from natural disasters to political unrest. It was disgusting, and I couldn’t be a part of that anymore. So I took the job with the CIA. It was corrupt too, but a lot more justified than GAP could ever be. They were blatantly profiting from disasters, and even went so far as making recommendations that might make matters worse, if it meant a more profitable solution to our clients.”
“Oh my God!” Max shook his head. “I would’ve never imagined that kind of shit goes on. I mean, yeah, everyone knows that there’s corruption and greed, but—”
Sarah interrupted. “Guys, you don’t even know the half of it. If things got slow as they called it, they would write up reports over discussions that we initiated about weak governments, or monarchies that we thought could be easily overthrown if certain family members or politicians were bribed or given gifts. We published reports suggesting that if a certain clan or tribe were removed from a protected territory, roads could be built and power plants constructed, connecting them to the outlying communities and tribes, especially if they had any kind of natural resource that could be stolen.”
Sarah put her hands to her lips. “Oh, I’m sorry. Did I say stolen? I mean extracted.” The threesome chuckled and Sarah continued.
“The thing that really got me was when I would watch the news and see the exact same scenario being reported that we discussed in those slow times. I literally would get sick when I watched a completely fabricated scenario happen, in real life, within days of our theoretical suggestion. Sure enough, the global corporations and construction companies would move in, build their pet projects at exorbitant costs, funded by the World Bank, or extract their natural resources for a fraction of its market value until they had completely raped the poor souls of everything they had!”
Looking down at the bar, Sarah shook her head in frustration. She looked back at Max and Tim and said, “And that, boys, is how our government and American corporations bankrupt third-world countries in order to keep them under our thumb. Now, you have a better idea of who might be to blame in all of this. You see, they not only manipulate obscure countries, they manipulate our system here at home too. I’m talking about everything from corporate bailouts to the daily fluctuations of the stock market, to what your children are learning at school and on television.”
“Wow! I never knew,” said Max. “I mean, I suspected that somehow our system was corrupted, but not like this…not so blatantly manipulated.”
“More than we’ll ever know,” exclaimed Sarah.
Tim needed clarification. “So, after you left GAP, you went to the CIA, right?”
“Yes. That’s correct.”
“How did you end up working for the ATF? Did you quit the CIA too?” Max asked.
“Oh no. Things were going really well there. Like GAP, I had a great job that was challenging and analytical. But as things here at home have begun to get more strenuous with events like what has taken place here, my boss Rick Scarborough offered my services to the director of the ATF, Dale Roslow. He wasn’t trying to get rid of me; it’s just that he wants what’s best for our country. He wants more than anything to protect our borders and keep our republic intact. I don’t think he’s clued into the realities of the Giants, or he might feel differently about our so-called republic. He isn’t much for conspiracy theories. He just wants justice and security for all…even the little guy. So, here I am.”
Tim said, “Sounds like our political system is so intertwined with corruption and big business that there is no republic.”
“You’re right. Now you’re getting the idea,” added Sarah. “We’ve become a nation controlled by the wealthy elite and big business. As far as I can see, there’s no public representation or governing by and for the people. Oh sure, there’s a handful of true patriots and honest Americans in government who want to be a part of the process and change things. But you know, for the most part, politicians get infected with a contagious disease we call greed, and even their purest intentions go the way of Brutus. You remember Shakespeare, don’t you? Et tu Brute?”
Max grinned an nodded.
“The truth is, not much has changed today from the time of Rome, except that Caesar is no longer on a throne. He rules this world, hidden from his citizens, along with a few others like him who finance organizations like GAP.” Sarah paused. “Am I babbling?”
“No,” Max answered. “This is amazing stuff.”
Looking at Tim, Sarah said, “We never talked about the explosions.”
“Yeah, well it was fun catching up with you. Maybe we can meet at the dock in the morning and go over the details.”
“Sounds great. Besides, there’s someone I’d like you to meet.”
Chapter 9
The Palace
Central Park, New York City
Jonathan Stalwart and Thomas Radisson met the morning after the press conference in Central Park near Balcony Bridge. They agreed to go on a two—or three-mile run, followed by a morning at The Palace, an elite health club somewhere outside of the city. The club had maintained a private membership for eighty years. Even to this very day, the location was still undisclosed. Jon would be Thomas’s guest.
When they finished, they stopped at Thomas’s Lincoln Navigator. Breathing heavily from the run, Thomas said, “Always feels good to get back on the trail again, doesn’t it, Jon?” He wiped the sweat from his forehead and grabbed his key fob from his jogging-pants pocket.
“Yeah. I’m going to feel that in the morning,” said Jonathan. He leaned over and stretched his side and grunted.
The key fob beeped and John reached inside the vehicle and grabbed a towel.
“Anyway, listen, Jon; I can’t let you know where we’re going. You know that, right?”
Jonathan stood up, surprised. “What? Are you talking about The Palace? I thought that was just a rumor.”
Thomas laughed. “No…actually, it’s very much a fact. I can’t tell you where it is…if you’re not a member. Maybe we can arrange something after today.”
Jonathan slipped on a sweatshirt. “I don’t know. I grew up with oil on my hands, Tom. I’m not so sure that’s the kind of place where I’d fit in.”
Thomas threw his towel at Jonathan. “Oh, you’ll be fine, Jon. Come on. Get in.”
Thomas directed Jonathan into the vehicle and then blindfolded him to ensure that he was unaware of the club’s location. The two corporate leaders drove through the city until they came to The Palace.
• • •
Greeted by a valet parking attendant, the two men stepped out of the Navigator and into a luxurious portico. The shaded porch was meticulously groomed and laden with cobblestone walkways reminiscent of Roman corridors. As they entered the open-air structure, Jonathan made the comment, “My God, you’d think we were actually walking into a real Roman palace. And you call this a health club?”
“Well, it does contain certain elements of a health club.” Thomas stopped walking and looked at Jonathan, one hand jingling the coins in his pocket. “Jon, you have to understand, we’re not just in the oil business. We’re in the business of being wealthy. You should live accordingly!” Thomas made a cocky smirk and walked ahead of Jonathan.
Jonathan stood still, shocked at Thomas’s comment. “What are you talking about? I thought you we
re taking me to a health club. This isn’t some kind of whorehouse, is it?”
Thomas turned around, his eyes full of pride. “It can be. Is that what you want?”
“No! Listen, I gave up a Saturday with my kids to come here and talk business, and to invest time into you. What exactly are we here for?” Jonathan stood still, clearly irritated.
Thomas pointed his finger at Jonathan’s face and spoke with a stern voice as if he had authority over him. “First of all, Jon, I brought you here to groom you ! I brought you here because you’re living in a fantasy world, and I can no longer sit back and watch you at the helm of this corporation, blindly steering PPI into oblivion. The world is changing, Jon, and unless you know where it’s going, there’s no way for you to take PPI in the right direction. And honestly friend, I’m sick of watching you make a fool of yourself while you sit in your corner office sweating over numbers and the price of those disgusting barrels of oil!” Thomas stepped toe-to-toe with Jonathan. “You see, I brought you here, Jon, to enlighten you and show you the error of your ways.”
Jonathan’s blood started to boil over, but he tried to maintain his composure. “Listen, Tom, that sounds real spiritual and all, but I don’t have time to play your games. So get to the point. I’ve got a business to run, and if you don’t start making sense, you’ll be out on the street on Monday. Do you understand what I’m talking about? Have I made myself clear?”
Thomas changed his demeanor and politely said, “That’s not going to happen, Jon, and you’ll know what I mean soon enough.” Thomas turned around and laughed. “Enjoy yourself and be happy!”
Thomas threw his duffle bag over his shoulder and led Jonathan to the front desk to sign in. Jonathan looked at his surroundings, amazed at The Palace’s over-the-top furnishings. Not only was the furniture made of the finest leathers, furs and hardwoods, even the floors were covered in marble, pearl and laced with gold and onyx trimmings. No detail had been overlooked. No expense spared. Classical artifacts dating as far back as 250 BC were scattered throughout the facility. The walls were decorated with artwork from Monet, Panini, Seurat, and Rembrandt. Although he rarely felt intimidated, Jonathan felt very small.
• • •
After signing in, a slender woman in heels walked up to the two men and greeted them. Like the facility and its surroundings, the woman was equally stunning. Her voice cooed as soft and elegant as a dove. “Good morning, Mr. Stalwart.” She nodded seductively. “Good morning, Mr. Radisson. May I show you to your room?”
“Of course. Thank you, Jennifer,” replied Thomas.
Jonathan looked at Thomas with distrust, but followed his lead. Jennifer led the men to their room.
“How was your run in the park, gentlemen?” asked the young woman, as they strolled down the corridor.
“It was good. But it’s time to relax now.”
“Then relaxation you shall receive. Right this way.” Jennifer waved her arm and smiled. Thomas could hardly take his eyes off of her.
Jonathan and Thomas were treated like royalty as their bodies were given every luxury known to man. They received a Swedish massage, stone therapy, manicure, pedicure and the house favorite, the coed Roman bath. Although Jonathan refrained from diving into an extramarital affair, Thomas was well accustomed to the sinful pleasures that abounded within the walls of The Palace.
Jonathan’s piety only aroused the interest of the beautiful young employees that groped over the prude executive. However, Jonathan grew impatient with Thomas’s decadent agenda. He shouted through the poor acoustics of the Roman bath, “Can we get on with this, Tom? I mean really, what’s this about?”
Thomas dropped his head and sighed. “All right, Jon, let’s go!” Thomas hastily walked out of the pool.
After the two men showered and dressed, Thomas led Jonathan into another long corridor, leading to a dark doorway that was completely out of step with the rest of the décor. It was dark and made from raw sandstone. The only light in the hallway came from archaic torches mounted on both sides of the large wooden door.
As the two men approached the room, Thomas said, “It’s time to find out why you’re here.”
Thomas opened the door with one hand and reached out his other in a welcoming gesture.
“Welcome to the confessional, Jon. Please have a seat.” He pointed Jonathan to a solitary chair that sat in the middle of a damp, dark room. A dozen candles lay on the cobblestone floor, lighting a path to the chair. The floor was moist, reflecting the candlelight. The air smelled humid and musty like an old cellar.
“You are here today,” said Thomas, his voice echoing, “because you have been chosen as a candidate to an elite group of world leaders. You’ve been tested, and you’ve proven yourself worthy of our cause. You’ve excelled in business and you’ve proven to be strong in thought and integrity. Do you understand what I have said thus far, Jonathan?”
“Yes… I suppose so,” Jonathan replied with hesitation, squinting into the darkness.
“Unfortunately, this appointment is not an option for you. You will be inducted and you will become an active member. You will dedicate yourself to our cause, you will give all that you possess, and you will put your heart and soul into our mission. If you do not, we will have no choice but to dispose of you.”
Thomas slowly stepped out of the light and into the darkness.
“You’ll receive wealth, security and wisdom, beyond anything you could ever imagine. You’ll gain insight that you never imagined into this world. Yet where much is given, much is expected in return.”
Jonathan felt deeply disturbed; not only because of what was said, but by the way Thomas manipulated the entire series of events.
“I realize this may sound surreal and unorthodox, but you will come to understand and appreciate our ways. You will enter into an age-old tradition that has existed for nearly five hundred years. And with your help, Jonathan, we will continue that tradition for another five hundred.” Thomas’s voiced echoed through the chamber, while water droplets splashed in the scattered puddles. “Do you understand what I’m telling you?”
Fearful of answering otherwise, Jonathan cleared the concern from his throat. “Yes. Yes, I do.”
“Wonderful! I now invite you to enter the confessional, where you may ask whatever you wish.”
Jonathon stood still—afraid.
“Please, lower the confessional!” called a new voice.
At that moment, a heavy wooden cylinder was lowered directly above Jonathan. He looked upward when he heard the squeaking and rattling of the chains and cogs lowering, engulfing him, leaving no more than a few inches between his body and its outer walls. When it touched ground, the acoustics suddenly changed. The echo was replaced with a perfect-sounding chamber that opened his ears to the slightest noise made by what must have been a hundred or more men sitting in the darkness.
Jonathan felt trapped and sure that blackmail awaited his refusal. To avoid any immediate consequences, he fired off a series of questions that stirred inside his mind. He sat in the wooden chair, nervously rubbing his slacks. “How shall I address those to whom I’m speaking?”
One of the voices in the darkness shouted, “Do not address us; just ask your questions!”
“Okay then.” Jonathan gulped. “My first question: what’s the name of this group or club? Is it Skull and Bones?”
“No!” replied a deep voice. “We, are Caesar…appropriately named, don’t you think?” A deep laughter erupted in the blackness.
“Yes, so it seems.” Jonathan took a deep breath as he considered his line of questioning. “What’s your purpose?”
“Very good question, Jonathan,” answered an older man with a Middle Eastern accent. “Our purpose is to possess and control the truth. We do this by collecting knowledge and resources. Without these, we’re no different than the rest of the peasants that sojourn this earth. Like it or not, Jonathan, you are in our sphere of influence. Therefore, as time and technology are changing
the way we control this world, you too must evolve and conform to our plans.”
“What is this truth that you possess? And what are your plans?”
A man with a British accent answered. “The truth, Mr. Stalwart, is that you’ve been subservient to an agenda that has nothing to do with oil. And now, that agenda is evolving. Consequently, we have determined that you must be made aware of this evolution, and brought into our circle. The truth is, you are a leader, you are intelligent and we believe that you may be of use to us. Therefore, as the truth is revealed to us, we must proceed independently of the common beliefs of mankind. The truth is, only we know the truth. Science, technology, religion and philosophy as you know them are archaic and primitive. Our financing and influence keeps us decades ahead of common knowledge. The truth that we speak of is what it is: truth. The truth you speak of is only a temporary reality…a false existence.”
Another voice, strained through weary lungs. “It’s too soon to disclose the deeper secrets…or our plans to you.”
“I apologize,” said Jonathan. “But may I ask why I was chosen? What do I have to offer you?”
An airy and frail voice chimed in. “You are one of several who manage our control of certain resources. However, those resources will soon lose their intrinsic value, cutting deeply into our wealth. We must restructure our control of those resources and redirect our efforts into a greater technology. This technology is unknown to the world, undeveloped, and therefore nonthreatening at this moment. We are always proactive, and we will use you to that end.”
“You want me close PPI?”
“No! We want you to follow us and do as we say. The details will come later.”
“Are you replacing oil with another energy source? Is that why you’ve chosen me? And how can you use me when PPI is facing so many difficulties, so many obstacles?”
Killing the Giants Page 5
