Anne poured the tea.
She looked at Sam Withers. Head of Global Oil. His company was huge, like his fat face and arse, thought Anne. He was putting up more than his fair share of the money this operation would cost. Of course, he expected, and would get back a larger share of the profits and control. Fair is fair. He would be the easiest to get on-board, thought Anne. He was perhaps the greediest of the three and the one who cared most about image. He had started life as a fat bully in the playground, and in principle that is exactly what he was today. Just older and vastly richer with many more willing victims.
Then she looked at Ethan Harrington. This man had wormed his way into many businesses worldwide. He was like a pregnant grub that never stopped chewing. He sat on the board of two of the largest global banks. He sat on the board of the largest pharmaceutical company in the world, Harrland Industries. The name was a compromise between his own and the company in Switzerland he had taken over - “Farland Pharma”. He also had a controlling interest in “C.W.W.W” - Clean-Water-World-Wide. That, of course , was a huge joke as everyone in the know knew that there was nothing “clean” about his water. Except his profits, invested in “safe” businesses under a different company name and shovelled off-shore. They were slowly but surely acquiring all of the natural water on the globe and selling it back to the people for a huge profit. If any sheeple became protesters all one had to do was poison their water supply and if anyone noticed the dead all one had to do was put another starlet on T.V with her tits out and the rest of the sheeple soon lost interest in water.
But, most importantly, he was a founder of “The Rainbow Group,” responsible for the largest import and export of computer equipment throughout the world. Officially. It was also the largest collection of the best assassins in the world who could and did guarantee death once they were paid. They were hired by governments and people with enough money to ensure that no questions were ever asked. He was the unofficial head of “The Atlas Group”, powerful businessmen who met once a year to discuss “business” in the world. Or so they said. Nobody knew for sure. The only thing people knew is that after their meetings heads rolled. Positions changed , elections were held, C.E.Os were fired, new ones hired. The Atlas Group was all about profit. At any cost. Nobody was safe. Nobody ever broke ranks and talked about the meetings. Not anymore. There had been one or two in the early days. People who thought that the sheep should know exactly what was happening to them. But after the “accidents” the leaks had stopped. No journalist who valued his life ever wrote about insider trading and deal-fixing. Not if he wanted to live. Everyone knew this. Nobody talked any more about The Atlas Group. Ever.
Harrington would be difficult for different reasons, thought Anne Pembleton. He would need to feel that he was in control. His huge ego would demand that others in positions of power look up to him for the role he had played in the plan. He would need to be given the bait of admiration. Lots of it. It would not be difficult. She would give him a shiny new mirror of public admiration and his self-adulation would do the rest.
Finally her gaze landed on the most surprising and, in many ways, the most difficult addition to the table. Jubair Qureshi was one of the richest men in the world. A Saudi oil-billionaire, the eldest of three brothers who controlled most of the oil coming out of the middle east. He was a very dangerous man indeed. It was said he had connections to all the major terror networks in the middle east. Of course, there was no proof and those who did manage to find anything invariably disappeared shortly after announcing that they had found something. One did not cross Sheik Jubair Qureshi. Not even lightly. Not if one wanted to avoid arrest and torture. Not if one wished to live. Even those of other nationalities who dug too deeply just disappeared. He, too, was a member of “The Atlas Group.”
Sheik Jubair Qureshi had the least to gain in all this, financially, at least. He was already a multi billionaire so money would not be enough. Money had never been enough for him. He would need to be seen to be “advancing” the Islamic cause. He wished it to be known that he was a holy man. A man who believed absolutely in Allah, the Koran and Sharia Law. Whether it was actually true, or a ploy to win favour with his terrorist friends nobody knew. One thing one did know, however, was how he supported the American Cartel in the Petrodollar. In the west he played this down, his biggest game being that he was interested in money and that the stupid Islamists would not last for long in the world. But secretly he believed that money in the right place at the right time could be of enormous help in advancing his and other “Islamic” causes. The more the dollar was tied to Saudi Oil the more fragile the Americans became, the more they needed Saudi Arabia. It was already evident. They, the Americans, bombed and killed the shit out of so many. But, Saudi Arabia? They bowed down. The west, America, had ruled for long enough. It was time for Allah to have his will done on earth again and he was here to help. Enormous vanity was his biggest weakness and Anne had plans to feed it. Like Harrington he would not be able to resist. She even had a name ready for him, “Qureshi the Benevolent”. He would lap it up. She coughed to hide her laugh as she nearly choked thinking about it.
Anne Pembleton was head of MI6 in London. A powerful lady indeed and one to be feared - for many different reasons. One did not become head of one of the most powerful spy organizations in the world without having a large set of balls, and word had it that Anne Pembleton had a very large set of balls.
Her young, Japanese partner had died in a terrorist attack thirty years ago and she had never forgotten that fact, they said. Her partner been a passenger on the Pan Am flight that blew up over Lockerbie. Back then they said it was the Libyans. It was not and she knew it, now. That story is what the T.V. were told to tell. Everyone now knew it was not Gaddafi. She had not known then, but she knew now. She had not known when she got the “103 forever” ink on her arm. It was all a huge game - who was told what and when. As head of MI6 she knew many things. Others knew she wanted an end to terrorism and she apparently wanted it yesterday. Word was that she would stop at nothing or anything or anyone that got in her way. Her partner, Midori, had been a nineteen year old girl. A beautiful girl, from Japan. Anne wanted revenge for her beautiful, dead soul-mate. There had been a funeral. But as with so many others, the coffin had been empty. They had never found the bits that would have made up her body. And, so, filled with revenge she had started her plan. Years ago. It was a daring plan. An audacious plan. A dangerous plan. A plan that none around the table were or would be privy to. When she was finished then they would all be finished. When it came to the food chain they were minnows in her eyes, and she dined with the sharks in the deep sea of time.
They were all going to pay the price and she would gut them one after the other without mercy. Her plan had taken years. And now it was ripe. The tattoo had festered, at the time. Now it was a festering memory pierced into her skin so she could never forget.
“Gentlemen. You have all seen the news of the bombings.”
All three just looked at her, waiting for her to continue. It was a statement, not a question.
“That was the start. We think we know who is behind the bombings. I am sure you have all heard of Bakr Nadir.” She paused and looked around the room at the three men, eyes resting on Sheik Jubair Qureshi. “It seems his money and fingers are all over this.” It could not have worked out better. “Gentlemen, we are now ready for stage two, a leak.”
She looked directly at Ethan Harrington. “We are going to release the name of a Rainbow agent to the press. At the same time that name shall be leaked to the terrorists directly. This will get him involved and the terrorists will want blood. His blood. We are sure of this. This will mean that we must get involved, as a rescue mission, of course. But he will be captured, and when he is captured we will leak to the press that he is a British agent and that he must be saved. This Rainbow operative killed a child in a secret operation a few years back. It was, of course, an accident. We will give the press the name of the father. The father of that child is Bakr Nadir. Bakr Nadir will receive information that this agent is responsible for the death of his child. He will know to which child we are referring and will certainly take revenge. We will leak to the press that the terrorists have attacked our agent for revenge. We will tell them how the man killed the child and then, devastated, how he retired from active duty. The press will love it. The green fields of England will be dewy with tears.”
She smiled, then. A sick, evil smile that contained no humour.
I am sure you have seen reports about the bombs here in London, and the bombs in Paris, Munich, Madrid? There will be more bombs. We are sure of that. We have intelligence from a dozen European agencies. There will be more deaths. It will become quite horrible for everyone. Except us, of course,” Again she smiled. “All we will have to do is sit back and let them kill each other.” With that she smiled, tilted her head to the right, and turned her hands palms up in a “what can ya do?” gesture. “We will give the Television Stations access to everything and they will broadcast it all. Public opinion will be massive. On both sides. The sheep will focus on the killing and while they are bleating about that we will steal the oil.” Anne looked around the table. They were nodding and smiling. Looking at each other as if they had done something well. They were so gullible, so stupid, she thought. All they could see was their money and power increasing. Anne would have a new life. A life of freedom. And, she thought, they, these pigs before her eyes would all be dead.
Anne stood up then, and served the tea herself as there was nobody else allowed in the room.
She waved a long, slim hand and said “So, Gentlemen.” At first nobody spoke, then.
“So, what, exactly, is the plan, Anne,” said Ethan. He smiled a private smile at his words, clearly showing his disrespect.
Anne Pembleton leaned forward and carefully placed her gold pen on the table in front of her. She screwed up her eyes, cocked her head to one side and looked at each man in turn.
“I will answer your question with a question,” she said.
She put her hands behind her back, pushing out her breasts, knowing that they would be looking at the bumps in her shirt.
“How far are you willing to go?” Of course she knew it was a double question. She knew they would try to fuck her, given half a chance. Not out of love, not, even, out of lust. No, they would fuck her to show that they were in control and that she was just a bitch. She smiled before she spoke. “How far, Gentlemen?”
She had spoken the words quietly and there was silence in the room. The men looked at each other, each unwilling to be the first to speak, the first to fill that silence with intentions, his own intentions.
Then, Sam Withers sighed heavily and spoke.
“Anne, you know us all,” he said, “there is always a price and I’m sure we all know that. You know that too, so what is your point?”
“How far are we willing to go for what?” It was the voice of Sheik Jubair Qureshi, cold and hard.
Silence. Then, “I’m sure that each of us here is willing to pay whatever price is asked, if it furthers our aims?” continued Sam Withers.
Anne ignored the Sheik, locked eyes briefly on Sam, then, looked again at each man in turn. Each was hard in his own way. Each man had a lot to lose but more to gain in money. She wondered if now was the time to play her hand.
“O.K.,” she said, “here it is.”
“We know that Bakr Nadir is behind these recent attacks. We believe he has only just started but we also believe he has been preparing for years. And now we believe that he is preparing something big. Much, much bigger than anything before. Indeed, we believe he has a new group, that they have been existence for years and that he is much more radical than anything we have ever seen. We believe he has been putting people in place for years, that he has planned this revenge for years. We know he is behind the bombings and I believe I have a way to find him and deliver the leak I talked about.” She paused. There was no reaction.
“My plan? I want to bring total chaos the the region. I want to cause an all-out war in the middle east. I want all the Arab nations to unite against the United States and Britain and NATO and I want for us to crush the Arab nations into total submission. The Muslims seem to like the idea of submission. Their whole religion is based upon it. The U.S.A is the largest military machine the world has ever seen. It spends more than the rest of the world combined on weapons alone. We will use this might to wipe out any and all Arab resistance to the west controlling if not owning all of the world’s oil. When we control all of the oil, we control all the money and power in that region. When we control money and power we control the food. And when we control the food supply we control the population. Control that population and we control the world. We will all be rich beyond our wildest dreams. Russia and China will have no choice but to submit to our wishes. They cannot survive without oil so they will do as we wish. They know they cannot defeat our military so they will negotiate for oil. Nothing will move without American controlled oil.”
She slapped her hand on the table as she finished.
“You mean American and British controlled , Saudi Oil, surely,” smiled Sheik Jubair Qureshi.
Anne looked at the Sheik. Then she smiled. She doubted if anyone in the west knew just how many Arab populations were being lied to and cheated by men just like this. Exactly the same as Americans and British and all their western counterparts.
Ethan Harrington spoke quickly, without patience. “America will use Britain as a base again. A war with the whole Middle East? Iraq will seem like a playground brawl by the time we are finished. And, by the time anyone takes notice we should have total control over the whole area. All the oil will be ours. We should have done it years ago. Make sure it works, this time.“
“And the Saudis?” asked Jubair Qureshi. With that question he had shown Anne his cards. He obviously felt no loyalty to other Arabs. Ethan Harrington was not so sure and Anne could see it. Excellent, she thought. When it came time to be rid of them she could pit one against the other.
“And the price?”, asked Sam Withers. “And, no, I don’t mean the price of oil.” He chuckled.
“Sheik Qureshi. Obviously we will need you to smooth the path with the Saudis. We rely on your vast religious knowledge and popular support, and, of course, you shall have our continued support through delivery of the latest weaponry. That should help ease the way, no? Special deals to oil the wheels, so to speak? This war will not be fought on Saudi land. So this war will leave you, we will leave you, as the only functioning Arab nation with some control of the oil. You will have a huge market. Our market. A world market! But what a customer! Together we will control the price of oil worldwide. Everyone wins. Nobody need know that we have a special price and that you have a guaranteed sale. You will all become much, much richer. Of course, millions will die. We are going to war, after all! You will all have to live with that.”, she smiled.
Ethan Harrington spoke up.
“Millions dead? Because of us? They do this to themselves, they don’t need to fight the inevitable, they could just give us the oil,” he said. His voice sounded bored and completely condescending. Just like the boring, condescending prick he was, thought Anne.
“The world is ruled by a few. They all know and allow that. They have known since the beginning of time. That is why they allow it. They know they can change nothing. They are nothing but sheep. We cannot be interested in the masses. They are nothing unless they get together, unless they mass, otherwise they are just scrap and deserve to be treated as such.”
“I agree,” said Sam Withers, “we have always controlled the masses. If anyone starts getting too much attention we just kill him off. It has always been this way.“
He smiled and shrugged his shoulders. “Accidents happen all the time, all over the world. What does it matter, in the long term, if you kill 100 to make sure you kill the one? The other 99 never counted in the first place, and left unchecked, that one could perhaps cause some damage to the system, to us. So, better to kill him off. Let the rabble shout and scream conspiracy and bleat like the sheep they are. They will do nothing without a leader. And if such a leader appears, we kill him. End of story.
He paused and looked around the table. “We are not talking about killing one or two people here,” said Anne Pembleton, testing.
“So, we kill a few million more sheep. So what? Does the world need more sheep-shit?” Sam Withers shrugged and puffed. He could not understand what the fuss was about, where any possible danger could lay, and he said so.
“I’ll tell you,” said Anne Pembleton. She dropped her voice and spoke carefully as if she were giving a lecture to intellectually challenged children.
“Most of you know what we did in the Bosnian war. Years ago we had an American commander who had been in charge of some of our death squads. I’m sure you have heard of the Serbian Death Squads. They rounded up and killed Bosnians. Women, children, men. No difference. Well, where there is killing there are Americans, and they too, the Americans, rounded up for us what we considered to be war-criminals - or just difficult people - and executed them. Just like that. They were “soldiers protecting freedom”, stupid sheep too, drilled to follow any stupid order, and follow orders they did. They murdered thousands because we simply told them to. They are trained to follow orders, not to think. The murdered? Were they all war-criminals? Of course not. But they were “trouble makers.” People who thought before they spoke. They had to be dealt with and what better opportunity? There were supposed to be no records kept. But, well, what can one say, “Americans” again. This American, he kept records. And a few years ago he tried to blackmail our government. Well, what could we do? How could be cover this one up? This American was a top killer from an elite killing squad in the American army. A very dangerous man. He’d been head of one of the American death squads in Bosnia. Not a desk job. This man had blood on his hands, literally.
We hired Rainbow and sent a man after him. Exactly one week after the Rainbow man received information on the last known whereabouts of this American, Amsterdam btw, the American just disappeared. He was never heard of again. Of course, we did our search. Found nothing. A body did turn up, in a river in Southern Germany a few weeks after all this. But it was not possible to identify the body. Whoever killed him made sure of that. Now, what you have to worry about gentlemen, is this: The name we are going to leak to the terrorists belongs to this Rainbow man. So, you see, we want to get rid of him, too. He knows too much. But what do you have to worry about? Well, we, you, don’t, ever, want this Rainbow man to find out what we are doing. If he does, we are dead. It is that simple. We have used this man before, on many occasions. He never fails. He is never seen. He is like a ghost. A shadow. If he looks for you he will find you and you are dead. It really is that simple.
Anne pulled her hands to her chest and looked down.
Gentlemen. Please don’t ask any more about this man. Let us all pray we never meet him, that is all.
Now, let’s get down to details. I have a plan, and it must be top secret.”
Sheik Qureshi laughed out loud. Anne! You are scaring us!! Now, tell us, who was this man, this Rainbow man?
But it was Ethan Harrington who put chills down her spine. “Ms. Pembleton,” he said, let me make this very clear to you. We want this war, and we shall have it. There is a great deal of money to be made and you are only needed as long as you make it easier for us to get it. Besides, I gather you are being well paid for your services. So, save the theatrics and do what you were paid to do. Inform us when you are ready to move. As for this Rainbow man? Please. Gather yourself. He is one man, a paid assassin. We have many, many more.”
“I did not say was, I said is,” she said. “And you have none, like him.”