I showed up at Helena Stratos’ office in Fayetteville the following week. I hadn’t bothered to show up for the town hall meeting, I’d been reluctant about the story because it seemed out of my league. In the meantime, I did my own research on the supercorridors, which frightened me about corporate and government misconduct. Don’t get me wrong, of course I knew it had always existed.
In fact, the United States Constitution had already been co-opted for at least a century by a corporate charter anyway, but I hadn’t pursued a story of this magnitude because of some of the murdered journalists in Latin America I’d known about. Also, a friend and fellow journalist had been arrested in Oakland for trying to expose police misconduct. The Patriot Act had made it unsafe for journalists who tried to discredit American policies, foreign and domestic alike. So much for the progressive movement. Corporate and government misconduct wasn’t the problem. The problem was my commitment to continue the story for future publication. After about a week of ardent fastidiousness, I decided to pursue the story, regardless of wherever it would take me. If it’s worth dying for, pursue it, right? Isn’t that the type of rhetoric we learn in the university anyway?
I recalled reading about Igor Panarin back in the early ‘90’s, a Russian political scientist who had worked for the KGB in the analysis of Russian and United States relations, and against the advancement of U.S. imperialism. My Russian background influenced my world views, I couldn’t escape it. And for a time, I became a fanatic of Eurasianist ideology, the idea that Russia was more closely aligned and connected to Asia rather than the West, with a rejection towards the system of the New British Empire philosophy.
This ‘New British Empire’ was British and American transnational capital that worked to destabilize the USSR because of its socialist economy. Igor Panarin was a strong supporter of Russia’s expansion as an imperial hegemon, moving towards the ideology of the ‘Third Rome.’ During my familiarity with this paradigm, I became very aware of America’s ‘Red Scare’ paranoia and the witch hunt against card-carrying or suspecting communists and Russians. I became critical of U.S. imperialism, but also paranoid about denouncing government policies. If I was going to pen this story, any left-leaning themes would be omitted because of the association with my name being debunked as pro-Soviet. It would have to be very plain, very pro-American, without attacking or embellishing or contriving of ideas. Just simply what it was, a domestic concern.
I stepped into Helena’s office with my legs trembling, “Hello, do you remember me from last week? Michael―with the Chronicle?”
“Hey, Michael! Yes, of course I remember you. I was wondering what had happened to you. You never showed up to the town hall meeting and well I guess I never gave you my phone number. I guess you couldn’t call.”
“Yeah, you know, I’m really sorry about that. They sent me to Chicago to cover this story on transportation, really boring stuff, but I had to go.” I felt inadequate about lying to her, but I didn’t want to expose my reluctance, after all, she had been high profile on the radar of the Texas corporate-government collusion, I didn’t want to confess my cowardice.
“And well…I didn’t have your phone number, but I‘d like to get back on the story. Are there any updates?”
“Well, not much was discussed in the meeting as far as new developments, everything seems rather stagnant, but I did get contacted by a Jay Jacobs a few days ago, he wants to meet with me as soon as possible. He says he has a lot of information to give me about the Trans-Texas Corridor. Does that name ring a bell?” she asked.
As if drawing observation from some cosmic divinity, I said, “Nah, I’ve never heard of him.”
I was way over my head now, what was I getting myself into? That’s why I was so reluctant to get involved in the first place, there was sure to be a myriad of key players, organizations, and government departments that I would have to investigate. Big business and government were bosom buddies. I would begin encroaching on unchartered territory without a wind rose to guide me through nautical navigation processes until I ended up shipwrecked. That’s what investigative journalism was all about―I didn’t want to get all hung up on some reporter’s fantasy. It was too late though, I was already involved.
“Well, he works for the Texas Department of Transportation. And guess what Michael, he’s the chairman, the leading commissioner on the TTC committee. He’s a close friend of the Governor’s. But I’m cynical about this type of arrangement. He sounded very sincere, but he also said it was a matter of great urgency and secrecy. What should I do?”
With a fierce conviction I said, “Well, let’s do it! Call him…I’ll go with you, well if that’s alright, if you’re worried about meeting him alone. Where does he want to meet? Is it a neutral location?”
I spoke without prudence. It was because my prior experiences with females turned out positive when I supported their ideas, even though it could be counterproductive. Even more so in this situation, I’ll paint a picture. Helena was sitting behind her desk in a swiveling armchair. She swayed towards a filing cabinet behind her to reach for a document. As she leaned forward, I could see a black slender panty line circling around her waist tantalizing me with engaging arousal, I wanted to take her there on the floor. I signed on to NAFTA on the spot. Perhaps in the future I could take advantage of her after a brief moment of weakness. Fuck Chloe.
After Helena called Jay Jacobs, she made an arrangement to meet in Austin, somewhere close to the Department of Transportation’s office because he couldn’t stray too far. I loved Austin, any excuse to go there was assumed blindly. It would be a clandestine meeting of the highest priority. Whatever info he had, the commissioner wanted to make sure someone else would be burdened. Helena didn’t mention my name, old Michael Ray Korsakov, but could you blame her. I mean―look at my name, she didn’t feel it was appropriate. We would have to take a chance upon arrival or avoid using my name altogether.
I used to be embarrassed of my name when I was in elementary and junior high school. My teachers often mispronounced it, sometimes even butchering it with disdain. In retrospect, it was probably an anti-Russian phenomenon. After all, most of them were teenagers during the Cold War period. During our drive to Austin we made small talk about work experience and Texas, but I was distracted by thoughts of Chloe, my sweet darling. Perhaps I had spent too much time in Texas waiting for her to return and so I made a decision. I would move back to Los Angeles, to Mar Vista or Venice, as soon as this story was concluded to finale, or as much as was possible. At that exact moment, I was ecstatic, I found Houston dull and humid, thus returning to my mild Californian climate was the most thrilling idea I had had in my entire duration in Texas.
I hadn’t even considered moving back until now. I speculated an onslaught of questions by my relatives and friends towards the pantheon of my soul, crucified for not bringing Chloe back. I felt shameful. I hadn’t spoken to my mother for about two years either, since I moved to Texas. I never thought it would happen to me―not speaking to my mother for that long, it was something you only observed in films, but now it was my reality. I was embarrassed to tell her that Chloe had moved out after just one month of us buying the house. I couldn’t face the firing squad at the home front. Everyone in my family loved Chloe except for my father. She was the all-American golden supermodel.
My father didn’t like her because she had children and preferred I married a Russian girl from the old country. He would say, “Mikhail, please find yourself nice Russian girl, American women are crazy, including your mother. I speak for all America, Latin America too.”
Everyone except my father eulogized her. You know, it made me feel superior to others who didn’t possess a trophy wife. So I’m shallow―so what. But now Chloe had fled, and I was left to suffer in privation.
“Michael, are you okay? Is everything alright, you seem out of it?” observed Helena.
“
Yeah, yeah…I’m good…I was just thinking about this Jay Jacobs guy. I think this could lead us in the right direction, I mean…why you, right? You said he read your blog about the Trans-Texas Corridor, and he knew about what was happening in Fayetteville and Fair Oaks. So, I’m thinking that he might really want to help us, it’s not like your part of a secret organization or militia trying to infiltrate or undermine the state of Texas, you’re a concerned citizen, right?”
Helena didn’t say much, she just nodded. She wasn’t ready to share intimate details with me, a stranger, about why she decided to get involved besides the lawsuit. She had her reasons, but I would find out at a later date, when she felt more comfortable sharing those details.
We had arrived at the Austin Public Library, the meeting point with the secretive Jay Jacobs. Helena recognized him right away. He said he would be sitting smoking a cigarette on a park bench across from the public library. He looked handsome crossing a leg that cascaded over his knee, dressed in an expensive grey suit politicians wear with a burgundy tie and a white dress shirt, smoking a cigarette, with a somber look on his face.
We walked towards him glancing nervously, “Hi…I’m Helena…and this is Michael Korsakov with the Houston Chronicle, he’s working with me on this. Is that alright?”
Helena must’ve forgotten we were planning on using an alias for me, or maybe she just fumbled at the last minute because of her nervousness, I wasn’t sure. Or maybe she just wanted to be upfront and honest about our project, after all, this was a clandestine meeting, perhaps she didn’t want to start off with any hypocritical oath.
The politician turned towards me, while he blew smoke with fierce enthusiasm, “Korsakov, Russian, right?”
“Um, yeah…my father’s Russian―from St. Petersburg, but my mother’s from Argentina, I was born in California though. So I’m all mixed up, typical American, huh,” I chuckled. I did that often when nervous.
“Yeah, I know who you are. I read your stories sometimes…you’re an objective reporter. That’s noble, you have a promising career ahead of you. You covered an excellent story a few years ago about the Gold Shirts in Mexico for the L.A. Times, I remember that piece. You should’ve won the IRE Award.”
There it was again, I couldn’t escape the wrath of that story, it kept haunting me. Maybe it was the climax of my career, which meant I was now stagnant or on a downward slope, it was Chloe’s fault.
“You almost won that award for international reporting, Michael―that was rather impressive. You’re a good reporter. I don’t have a problem with you covering this story because it needs to be exposed. But, hopefully you know what you’re getting yourself into. Don’t fuck it up, kid.”
Helena and I turned towards each other in perplexity, I felt extolled by what Jay Jacobs said, why couldn’t Chloe see my greatness, she had been blinded by a marriage of convenience. Maybe there are some good politicians out there somewhere, this one certainly knows my work, he isn’t entirely a scumbag. The commissioner reading my stories gave me another wind of confidence, something I’d been lacking.
When I had first started going to UCLA I had contemplated majoring in Political Science because I was fascinated by the civil service. I even considered becoming a politician in the future, to run for city council or mayor. I also participated in student government. I hung out with a group of Armenian students that were into politics and law, but after a while I became jaded by the whole decision-making process, more so the Electoral College because everything seemed legally corrupt. We even worked with elected officials during grassroots campaigns, but the entire process left me flummoxed with a foul stench of betrayal.
So, I abandoned those plans as an aspiring politician because of what I believed to be sanctioned corruption of a democratic process. Journalism seemed more objective, even though periodic censorship is exercised. However, every now and then, just like in a court of law, you’re contributing to the democratic process of what American principles were founded on. Well, let me clarify, that’s not entirely true. There are some elected officials, very few, that still seem to change the democratic process as policy-making activists, but it’s so rare that we never seem to notice. It’s shameful.
“Look…we don’t have much time. And to be quite honest, I have a sickness.” He coughed while grabbing my shoulder. I felt disgusted by the commissioner coughing up the plague on me, but I exercised tact and empathy.
“Lung cancer―it’s probably related to my smoking habits…I don’t think I have much time left, in the literal sense as well. Okay, the Trans-Texas Corridor―the TTC. It was supposed to be a state-sponsored program funded through public sources of taxation. But recently, because of all the pressure on the TTC and the Governor, well, because it’s quite simply an unpopular project, it’s now become a private project funded through private sources. American citizens don’t have to worry about paying for its financial development anymore, but they will have to worry about paying for it in the future…as a private toll road to a private company. But the problem is the private funding sources. Our committee created a slush fund with lobbyist support to assist with payments to transportation projects, a fund that allows the Governor to transfer an unlimited amount as he wishes. This private company will be able to charge commuters any price, including an adjustable amount as they see fit. Have you ever heard of a company called EuroCarril?” Helena and I turned towards each other, both making a gesture of unawareness.
“Well, it’s the biggest private developer of highway infrastructure around the world. It’s a Spanish company, headquartered in Madrid. They operate in private toll roads and parking facilities all over like…in the entire Spanish Peninsula, Chile, Mexico, Greece, Ireland, Poland, Canada, and now they’re moving into a huge market here in the States. They’re already operating in Illinois and Indiana, and well…now they’re moving into Texas. The Texas Department of Transportation is going to provide oversight for planning and construction, but EuroCarril is going to manage the day-to-day activities and the collection of revenues. Have you heard of the construction contractor here in Texas, Zachary Construction?”
“Yeah. It’s the company that bought out the small contractor and developer that was working on the Fair Oaks project in Fayetteville, the one that was abandoned…the class-action lawsuit,” Helena said turning towards me with her eyes widening. She was making sure I knew what connection was being made.
“Yeah…that one, exactly. Well, EuroCarril and Zachary have formulated a merger to work on the Trans-Texas Corridor. The Texas Department of Transportation just awarded them a contract of over three million dollars to begin working on plans and development. And where do you think the money came from? That’s right, the slush fund I just mentioned―reserve taxpayer money and lobbyist donations. Look at what’s going on all over the country. Communities like Fair Oaks have been abandoned by small developers and contractors, claiming an economic crisis and recession, but guess what? Most of those communities are in the way of the superhighways, and what’s the only possible way to remove the citizens from that type of land? Through eminent domain. We needed to figure out a way to avoid lengthy administrative and legal procedures, to avoid the bureaucratic red tape and requirements to build on private land. Eminent domain is the United States’ government tool to expropriate private land from citizens to use for economic development, private or public use, hell…for whatever we need. Essentially, the superhighway system is going to be the largest privatized toll road in the country, stretching from Mexico, cutting through and gutting out the heartland―the countryside of the United States, and then making its way through Canada. Like I said, EuroCarril already owns numerous toll roads throughout Mexico and Canada, you catch my drift? There was a bill to oppose the Trans-Texas Corridor in the Texas state legislature but it was vetoed by the Governor. Do you know why he has such a vested interest in the TTC and is adamant about watching
it come to fruition? He’s a shareholder in the EuroCarril-Zachary merger. He helped found Zachary Construction years ago. And now that it’s becoming a multi-national corporation partnering and operating in numerous countries, his holdings will increase once the plans move forward on the superhighway system all over the country. He was my former roommate in college, we’re close friends, that’s why I’m the chair in this commission, but someone has to stop this. It’s ironic, you know, when we came to power we had all these ideas that we were going to make it better for everyone, but we’ve fallen into the same government-corporate relationship like everyone else. We’ve been co-opted, and now I want out. I’m a patriot, but I feel so responsible for lending my support in this project and everything else I’ve been involved in, but if I step out, its political suicide at its best. Texas is at the crossroads of the United States, it’s the heart…the main organ. The private toll roads in Texas will connect the entire infrastructure of the United States…to all the new corridors. All transportation of goods will come through here, through the different ports around the country. You need to find out why we want to divert shipments and cargo coming into Long Beach or Los Angeles and relocate them to ports in Mexico and through Kansas City. Put the pieces to the puzzle together, I’ll try to guide you in the right direction. That’s the story…follow that…follow the capital. The NAFTA agreement is behind this mess. Eventually the United States government will sell off its national infrastructure to private companies around the world. This will be considered treason to American citizens who will have to pay foreign companies for the right to commute on their highway system across the country. The United States is up for sale. I’ll give you some contacts here and in Canada, there are important people who oppose the superhighway system in North America…it just needs to be exposed for what it really is to garner opposition. Oh, but you can’t quote me on any of this…I won’t go on record. I’ll deny it. At least not yet, I need some more time, please. I’m sorry, but I have a meeting to attend. Goodbye.”
4.
The NAFTA Blueprint Page 7
