The Days of Noah: Book One: Conspiracy (7 page)

“France, Spain, Germany, the Netherlands, and Italy have all issued statements voicing their willingness to sit down and discuss a charter for a new UN financial conglomerate. The transition would likely be relatively seamless for members of the EU, but it would be quite a shock to American culture.

“Japan and Canada were also on board before the talks broke down. Like the US, England had its share of dissenters in Parliament for the global bank, but the shot across the bow today may silence them.”

Everett pulled into the parking lot of McGuire’s. He walked inside not knowing what to expect. The clientele was a bit older than the pubs Everett generally frequented.
This is pretty much what I expected. Old furnishings, too many things on the wall, and needs a good cleaning.
He looked around for Jones but didn’t see anyone who could possibly be him, even in disguise.

Everett sat down at a booth and grabbed a menu. “Nothing too enticing. I guess I’ll try the burger.” He looked around for a server but didn’t see anyone. He waited for a while but finally came to the conclusion that he had to order from the bar.

Everett walked to the bar and ordered his burger and a Coke.

“I’ll call your name when it’s ready,” the bartender said.

“I’m Everett.”

The bartender jotted his name on the ticket. “Okay, Everett.”

Everett dropped off his Coke at the booth then went to the restroom. Upon his return, Jones was sitting at the booth.

Everett sat down. “Hi.”

Jones pushed the Coke toward Everett. “It’s a bad habit for someone in your line of work to leave their beverage unattended.”

Everett put his hand on the glass. “I never thought of that, thanks. I haven’t eaten since lunch, so I already ordered a burger. Can I order something for you?”

Jones crossed his hands on the table. “I’m having the seafood pasta.”

“Oh, alright,” Everett said.

Jones looked toward the front of the bar over the top of his glasses. “You wouldn’t think seafood pasta would be good coming from an Irish bar, but one thing you learn at the Company is never judge a book by its cover. It’s what I come here for. And the garlic bread is fantastic.”

“It’s great that you still have such a good appetite.” Everett wished he hadn’t said that as soon as the words left his lips.

“I’m not taking chemo or radiation,” Jones said. “It wouldn’t buy me that much time anyway, and food is about all I have to enjoy in life.”

Everett wanted to change the subject in a hurry. “The radio said the UN is pushing to merge the central banks of the developed economies.”

“That’s already a done deal.”

The bartender walked over to the table and sat a drink on the table. “Bushmills on the rocks, Mr. Smith.”

Everett was waiting for Jones to correct him, but he didn’t.

“Thank you,” Jones said.

Once the bartender walked away, Jones explained. “Smith is what it says on my credit card.”

“Oh,” Everett said.

No matter, his name probably isn’t Jones either
, Everett thought. “So why are the reporters talking like it’s something in the works?”

“Theater.” Jones took a sip of the whiskey.

“And the market turnaround today?” Everett asked. “Did we have anything to do with that?”

“Dragon had everything to do with that today,” Jones said. “Dragon developed a multilayer strategy to take down the BRICS central computer years ago. It began by collecting personal information on high-level political appointees. They’re always the most vulnerable because they don’t understand how complex computer systems work. They get lax in security protocols because they see them as burdensome. Once their online habits were mapped, Dragon infected their personal devices, which carried the infection inside the secure facility and eventually infected the main server. Once in place, the virus sat dormant until a set of events triggered the activation of the bug.

“The entire BRICS system is garbage. Any piece of equipment that was connected to that network will have to be thrown out. It will be months before the BRICS Bank is operational again.

“In the meantime, things will return to something resembling normal market conditions, if the Russians or the Chinese don’t launch a hot war.

“But sometime in the near future, the dollar will be thrown out, the euro will be thrown out, the yen, Canadian dollar, they’re all gone. A new global currency will be introduced, but not by the BRICS Bank. It will be a currency controlled by the IMF, UN, and World Bank.”

Everett’s eyes peered at Jones intently. “When?”

“Soon, at a time of Dragon’s choosing.”

Everett wasn’t sure of what he was being told. “Is Dragon self-aware? What level of artificial intelligence are we talking about? You said Dragon designed the strategy for the virus. Is there human input in all of this?”

Jones took another drink. “Oh, yes, there is a high level of human intelligence and oversight. A committee develops the overall desired outcomes. Those are fed to Dragon and the system develops strategies and courses of action. The committee then approves or rejects the plan. Plans that are approved are implemented through Dragon’s electronic actions, and directives are issued to human agents. Plans that are turned down are scraped, and Dragon develops an alternative method of reaching the goal.

“Dragon is not what you would call self-aware. It’s simply able to predict, with an astounding rate of accuracy, what will happen when certain actions are taken. What it really does is allow us to see into the future based on known inputs. The only thing it cannot predict is unknown inputs. Things like weather events, earthquakes, terrorist attacks that are planned outside of the communications grid, or other occurrences of that nature are not accounted for. But projections of price movements, market reactions, terrorist attacks planned using communications wired into the grid, and even herd behavior is very precise.”

“So Dragon has engineered a smooth transition into the new global currency?”

“No,” Jones said. “It isn’t meant to be smooth at all. It is specifically designed to create utter chaos. And you need to start coming up with a plan to deal with it when it comes because it will be a tectonic shift that turns the world upside down.”

The bartender brought the food over. “Since you are Mr. Smith’s guest, I can take care of anything you might need.”

Everett was still trying to process what he was being told. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

The bartender placed the tray under his arm. “Can I get anything else for you?”

“Please, yes,” Everett stammered. “I’ll have what he’s having.”

“Bushmills on the rocks?” the bartender asked.

“Please,” Everett said.

The barman walked away and Everett searched for a starting point to initiate the barrage of questions forming in his head. “Who’s controlling this? The CIA? Why would they want it to be so cataclysmic? What should I do?”

Jones smiled. “One at a time, Mr. Carroll. I’ll start with the easiest question. Why would they want it to be so disruptive? That answer is threefold.

“First, absolute disorder means that the masses will accept the new world order without question or protest. They’ll be begging for anything that promises to maintain peace and brings control, and they will get control. The infrastructure that comes in to fill the void will blow your mind. You’ve never seen anything like what is coming in the way of control.

“Second, there will be a massive wealth transfer. If you think you can imagine the money that could be made by insider trading on a global scale, by someone with absolute knowledge, unlimited resources, and no fear of repercussion, you still haven’t begun to grasp the magnitude of what will happen.

“Third, it will bring about a titanic global depopulation. Some estimates are as high as forty percent.”

“Forty percent of what?” Everett’s mind seemed unable to accept what he was hearing.

“Forty percent of human life on earth,” Jones said.

Everett just looked at him while Jones paused to take a bite of his food.

Jones finished chewing. “Next, you asked who is doing this. Yes, the CIA is involved, and at a very high level, but we’re not in control.”

“The president?” Everett asked as Jones took another bite.

Jones almost laughed. “No son, not the president. The president is a puppet. The Rothschilds, Rockefellers, and a hand full of other people are pulling the strings. I couldn’t tell you all of them if I wanted too. I don’t think anyone knows all the names on that list. They rule and direct through a select number of organizations. Internationally, the Bilderberg group meets annually to keep the sort of upper-level management briefed on the agenda.

“America has long been the brain center for these global power elite. The Council on Foreign Relations has played the largest role here in America. The CFR members list reads like a who’s who of former presidents, cabinet members, Treasury officials, Fed board members, CIA directors, news media, and power elites.”

“Like who?”

“Son, we’d be here all day. Unlike Bilderberg and the Skulls, CFR is a matter of public record. Memberships are published on the CFR website. To name a few from the present and the past: the Clintons, Ford, Hoover, Carter, Walter Mondale, David Rockefeller, John Rockefeller, Robert Rubin, Charlie Rose, Katie Couric, Barbara Walters, Tom Brokaw, Walter Cronkite, James Baker, Janet Napolitano, Dick Cheney, Michael Bloomberg, Henry Kissinger, Alan Greenspan, former CIA Directors David Patreus, Michael Hayden, and Robert Gates; the list goes on forever.

“Most of the instructions to the global banking community flow through the Trilateral Commission. Its membership is also public knowledge. Current and former members include Paul Volker, David Rockefeller, Mario Monti, Henry Kissinger, Madeleine Albright, Larry Summers, Susan Rice, and lots of names you’d probably recognize.

“From those three organizations, directives are passed along through government, media, and corporate channels.”

Everett looked at Jones’s Masonic ring. “What about the Masons and the CIA?”

Jones nodded. “The Masons are probably the bottom rung of the ladder; of course, that all depends which degree a Mason obtains.

“The CIA is a special breed. The go-between for the CIA and several US administrations has been the Skull and Bones. Skull and Bones have a special insight into the elite agenda. It would be my guess that direct contact between the ruling class and the Skulls occur at their Yale tomb.

“If the ruling class was King Arthur, the Skulls would be something akin to the Knights of the Round Table, and the CIA would be an elite class of soldiers responsible for carrying out the king’s wishes.

“All the other organizations I mentioned would be diplomatic or political in nature.”

Everett sat like a deer in the headlights as Jones calmly unveiled this hierarchy of power and secrecy between bites of his favorite dish. He saw that his drink had been dropped off but hadn’t noticed the bartender come by with the Coke. Everett took a sip. “Two names that kept coming up for both groups were David Rockefeller and Henry Kissinger. There seems to be a lot of overlap in membership.”

Jones nodded. “Oh yes, lots of overlap. In fact, John D. Rockefeller donated the property that the UN sits on in New York. David Rockefeller and Kissinger were known members of the Bilderberg Group, and both had close ties with the Company throughout their lives.”

Everett had finally started picking at his food. “And these groups intend on imploding the economy?”

Jones smiled. “Well, that is an inevitable event, but it will suit their agenda. They’ll manage the collapse to better fulfill their design.”

“Aren’t they rich enough? Why do they need a massive wealth transfer?”

“It’s not about money. It is about power. The elite at the top of the pyramid are drunk on power. They’re addicted. And like any addict, too much is never enough. If you ask them how much is enough, they’d all say just a little bit more.”

Everett took a bite of his now cold burger. He finished chewing. “You said the Rothschilds were involved, but I never heard their name come up in any of the groups you mentioned.”

“And you never will. Like a mafia boss, that family never gets its hands dirty. UN Secretary General Luz is a descendant of the Rothschild family.” Jones took a sip of his drink. “His mother is a Rothschild.”

“And his father?”

Jones shook his head. “He came out of nowhere, sort of like Obama. Suspiciously unconnected to all of these secret groups.”

“You mentioned that George H. W. Bush was a member of the Skull and Bones.”

Jones finished the remaining garlic bread. “And the son, George W. Bush, he’s also a member. The grandfather of George H. W., Samuel Bush, ran Buckeye Steel, which was a Rockefeller corporation. The father of George H. W. was US Senator Prescott Bush, who was a director of Union Banking Corporation. The bank was caught holding gold for the Nazis, but of course, Prescott was never indicted. He was also never indicted for being involved in the conspiracy to overthrow the US government and replace it with a fascist regime in 1933. He’d have been proud of his grandson signing the Patriot Act.”