Wednesday, March 18, 2009

Chapter TEN

"The individual is handicapped by coming face to face with a conspiracy so monstrous he cannot believe it exists." - J. Edgar Hoover

I had the best sleep in weeks that night. I never once heard the other people coming in. I woke about 8am, stumbled out of my room and noticed it was buzzing with activity. There were more people than I could count, conversing among themselves, setting up more chairs and tables, as well as stapling packets of information to be passed around.

“Daniel, it’s good you’re awake.” I turned around, to see a man, not Celeste, speaking to me.

“Um, do I know you?”

“Yes you do. We’ve met once, although I looked quite different then.” Then he shook my hand before introducing himself as Andrew Bright. “Please, there’s coffee and pastries in the auditorium.” It wasn’t until he walked away and I noticed his foot turned inward that it hit me who he was.

“Wait!” I followed him, “please, can you tell me what the deal is with the recorder you left me?”

“Shhhh,” looking around nervously, “No one knows about that except the three of us.”

“Ok, so why me? Besides the explicit talk and some chatter about insurance policies, there’s nothing there that seemed worth all this.”

“Daniel, walk with me.” We walked to a semi-private clearing before he asked me his next question. “Did you recognize the man’s voice on that recorder?”

“No. Should I?”

“You are here with a very carefully selected group of people, people like you, who question what they’re told. People like you who can clearly see a bigger picture or agenda of sorts in all the politics going on. Despite what you think, you still don’t know the truth, you only know bits and pieces of the truth. It’s much bigger than you, me or even the elaborate methods we took to get you all here.

The information on that recorder will be discussed this morning when we’re all here. The voice in question, though, is for you to know and you only. Celeste had been working undercover as a high class call-girl who had a very specific clientele. It took her almost ten years to become trusted enough to be recommended to high official personalities, personalities like the Vice President and even the president himself. The voice you heard on that recorder was our Vice President.”

“Holy SHIT! I mean a lot of us suspected assassination, but never under these circumstances. Damn!” I was in total shock.

“Our Vice President became a target when he changed his mind on the agenda.”

“What agenda? Oh, let me guess…New World Order, right?” admittedly spoken with an air of sarcasm. The NWO concept is one I’d heard hundreds of times throughout the years in the conspiracy circuit, perpetrated by the Masons or Illuminati, two organizations whose power, I believed at that time, to be highly exaggerated.

“Mr. Peckerstan,” with obvious annoyance, emphasizing again my fake name, “Don’t underestimate the potential these people have in accomplishing their agendas.”

“Ok, so why me?”

“We chose you because of your passion. You soak up truth and spread it around like a wild fire. You are not afraid of people, of speaking your mind, of taking challenges and overcoming tribulations. And, as we had suspected, you aren’t afraid to kill someone for the right cause.”

“I surprised even myself with that one.”

“You don’t follow instructions and we were counting on that.” He then called out the name of a man setting up the view master, “Mr. Cockster, would you please come here.” The gentleman approaching us looked VERY familiar. “Mr. Nate Cockster, this is Mr. Daniel Peckerstan.” Then he reached out and shook my hand.

“Wow, we both got screwed on our names didn’t we? So are you as big a dick as I am?” The man obviously didn’t see the humor.

“Daniel, this is one of our men we commissioned to observe your activities.” Andrew Bright was very amused with my reaction to this revelation.

“So you would have let me die in my home? You could’ve warned me, or helped.” This revelation had me most annoyed. They sat idle, watching my life as if it were some sitcom as I dangled blindly between life and death.

“I wasn’t worried. I am impressed, however. Most people are completely unaware of the few instantly fatal locations on the human body. I didn’t even learn about that spot until the last few weeks of Boot Camp.”

“So, you’re military. Air Force, Army?”

“No,” sounding very annoyed, “United States Marine Corp.”

“Semper Fi,” I tried my best to sound sincere. “So were you some kind of special forces?”

“Gentlemen,” Andrew interrupted, “Thank you, Nate, you can continue setting up now.”

“Sir.” was his only response before returning to his duties without any further acknowledgment to me.

“You will learn the “whys” later. The meeting will inform you of everything you need to know, including the information passed along to Celeste that night our Vice President was killed. But only you, Daniel, are to know the true circumstances behind his death. In the end, he was one of the good guys and has earned our continued respect. What makes you most important are your contacts, your connections to others like you. The truth of that recording is to serve as nothing more than your motivation. Keep it in your mind, Daniel, that even those seemingly powerful men are indeed at the mercy of their own agenda.”

“So instead of just handing me the recording you put me through the ringer. Why?”

“First and foremost, we are all considered enemies to the agenda. There was no easy way to pass on information. We also needed a reference in which to condition you. We need you to be more observant, more suspicious, and most definitely more alert to subtle mannerisms and changes in people and the environment in which you find yourself. This is the first day of your training, Daniel. Celeste has been assigned to teach you all she knows.”

“One more question, please.” Andrew stopped walking, then turned to face me, looking directly into my eyes before answering a question I hadn’t yet asked.

“Mr. Peckerstan, all your past and future involvements with Celeste are strictly professional.” He then walked away, again with the obvious inward twist in his stride.“

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