CARLOS & KATRINA

A Novel by Charles Adrian Trevino
Copyright 2006, 2019
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Chapter 26

Henry Rossenberg looked down at his wife as she lay sleeping peacefully in their bed. It was somewhere around five o'clock in the morning, but Henry was already fully up and clothed. He was on his way to meet with Dan Murdock and his other partners-in-crime, as they all would surely soon be designated, at Dan's large secluded house which was not a far drive from his own. It was an emergency meeting to decide on an immediate course of action, in view of a recent unfortunate but quite foreseeable occurrence. It was something he had been dreading having to deal with, a spectre he had banished to the outermost regions of his mind: the possibility of failure.

Henry thought that he had mentally prepared himself for the worst case scenario, but somehow he had never fully grasped the full, horrifying consequences of failure. Now that cold hard harbinger of doom stood directly in front of him, impossible to go around; a grim, imposing ogre that he had up until now managed to avoid confronting.

Dan had come to his house yesterday morning and pleasantly asked him to accompany him for a walk, for some mysterious reason. As they walked through the wooded large park next to Henry's mansion, Dan had revealed some distressing news. While taking a shower, Murdock had discovered something which he felt certain was a tiny listening device that had been implanted in his leg, obviously by an agent of the powerful people they had been plotting against. Dan was fairly certain that it had been shot into his leg the day before by that agent, posing as a homeless begger lying on the ground, whom Dan had stopped to talk to. The thing was done so expertly and skillfully that Dan had felt only a slight itch, an almost unnoticeable little pain as the tiny electronic dart adhered to his calf, and he had walked away suspecting nothing. His trusted experts were trying to unravel and reverse-engineer the unbelievably small spying instrument, or whatever it was; it was unlike any surveillance instrument they had ever seen before.

Dan had advised him not to panic, that no one at their last meeting had said anything that could be construed as a definite plan of action, but Henry knew better. They had said enough to cause the entity which Dan had dubbed "The Conspirators" to take action against them all... and Henry was certain that it would be coming soon. Although he had never met anyone in the inner circle of that mysterious organization, which indeed appeared to be all-powerful and all-knowing, Henry knew enough about them by inference to be very sure that he was in danger. To them, even though he was merely an insignificant cog in a huge concert of gears, Henry was still just big enough to be a threat.

Bending down low, Henry gently kissed his wife on the cheek. She murmurred something, stirring but not waking up. He continued to look at her for a few minutes, very gently stroking her hair. Then slowly straightening up, he turned and walked out of the room.

Henry went down the hall to his 20 year-old daughter's bedroom, and quietly opened the door. Walking very softly to her bed, he stood looking down as she silently lay still, breathing peacefully with her hand slightly tucked under her pillow. Henry frowned for a second; her mother had told her not to do that. After watching her for a minute or two, he bent down and kissed her very gently on the top of her head. She didn't feel it, and continued sleeping. Henry paused for a moment, looking at her closely for a few seconds; then, not wishing to wake her, he turned and quietly left the room. He walked down the hall to the top of the stairway and paused there for a while, musing over the events of the last few days.

Henry had decided to throw in his lot with Dan Murdock for many reasons; issues that had been occurring and re-occurring for years, highly questionable things. He had increasingly been used to coordinate the various top media outlets throughout the country into broadcasting and publishing distorted and outright false information. This "news" was programmed by the Conspirators for purposes of influencing and manipulating a public alarmingly given to naive gullibility, while diverting attention away from the more serious problems facing them. Focusing on more sensationalist subjects, like the constant political infighting and mudslinging that people found easier to understand than economic discussions that were deliberately made incomprehensible, the Conspirators stirred up petty resentments throughout the country as they intravenously pumped in an ingenious selection of propoganda via their countless media capillaries.

Instigating time-consuming discord within and between various political groups, they addled the minds of the quarreling factions into an even more confused state, rendering the politicians incapable of ever mounting a strong concerted challenge to their mysteriously ensconced masters. Henry had gotten close enough to get a glimpse of some of those masters, part of a frighteningly potent entity whose core constituents included internationally-synergistic Ushers who were richer than a substantial percentage of the world's countries, scions of powerful dynastic non-Ushers (called "goinks" by the Ushers), charter members of secret societies intent on saving/controlling the world, and hand-picked elitist financial/political "geniuses" that could talk the intricacies of money until a layman gave up and went away. This group was serviced by legions of highly-placed, well-rewarded operatives who had learned never to ask too many questions. In a contentious distracted condition, the citizenry was helpless against a juggernaut as well-organized as this one; it was a clear demonstrative illustration of the old adage "united we stand, divided we fall," rendered by a genius artist, and Henry was beginning to understand the byzantine ways of that artist.

Recent proposed legislation outlawing the "unacceptable" criticism of Ushers and the country of Usheria, a country which very obviously held great sway over a large segment of the political leadership of the UFS, had lately been a hot topic among news outlets. A daring young politician, formerly a refugee from a war-torn country who had been meritoriously elected to a high UFS post, had caused a furor by bravely speaking out about corruption and manipulation of the political leadership. Cynically pointing out things that were true, but were tacitly forbidden to be discussed, such as the role big money played in shaping government policy, she had made comments about the spuriously justified invasions of foreign countries such as Persiania and Montania, the powerful holds that certain influential lobbying groups had on UFS politicians, and other sordid matters as well. But it was her criticisms of Usheria in particular, it's illegally-gained territories, the harsh punishment meted out to angry displaced refugees, and its "strong, seemingly hypnotic control over UFS politicians" that had incurred the wrath of some very powerful people. People who controlled the media. People who controlled Henry.

It had been Henry's job to see that the young firebrand politician was bombarded with negative press editorials emphatically insisting that her criticisms of Usherian right-wing hardliners and money-dispensing lobbyists (which were relatively candid, if a bit caustic) were actually blatant ethnic slurs reinforcing hateful, unacceptable typecasting of oppressed people. These editorials demanded that she apologize immediately, and/or resign from her position. She began to be excoriated daily by highly-placed congresspeople and journalists, who condemned her for inciting anti-Usherism with her negative stereotyping. Seeking to gain a massive Usher addition to his voting base, UFS President Eli Wolfen quickly jumped on the bandwagon, condemning the now beseiged but still bold congresswoman and her party for her "hateful" slurs against all Ushers. Various powerful groups demanded new laws condemning anything that even smelled like anti-Usherism and a bill was quickly drafted, but although well-backed efforts were made for its speedy passage, the measure found itself challenged by a political party growing increasingly suspicious, and aware of changes in the status quo. A re-written document addressing all forms of racial or religious oppression was passed instead, causing a swift political reaction; "betrayed" Ushers began to desert their home Libertarian party in droves, as Wolfen implemented a program to lure them from their former party to his own. In honor of his loyal support to Usheria, Wolfen was declared by President Ben Webanyahoo to be "an emissary of God sent to protect Ushers," specifically from rogues and racists like the loud-mouthed, insensitive young congresswoman who had criticized and endangered innocent people and caused all of the turmoil and disruption. That same brash young politician suddenly found herself being linked to the notoriously controversial "October 13th" terrorist attacks, the worst accusation the media could bring against a person. She thereafter began receiving frequent death threats, imparted in various creative and novel ways.

Henry stared down the lamp-lit stairway that curved down to the ground floor, frowning as he thought about October 13th and some of the things he had been made to do over the years. For a long time now the persecution of UFS citizens of Persianic descent had been almost blatantly encouraged by major networks around the country, following a highly questionable "terrorist" incident in which two hijacked jetliners somehow caused the demise of three skyscrapers in a downtown business center, by suicidally flying into them. Although only two buildings were actually struck by airplanes, a third nearby tower had also inexplicably exploded, collapsing rapidly and neatly into its own footprint base just like the others. It looked suspiciously like they had all been brought down by expertly-placed, ultra-powerful explosives, and then, lo! It was discovered that a large trove of remants of such incendiaries had indeed been found everywhere... but through the influence of people like himself, that evidence had been suppressed. After all, those residues weren't found by the national emergency management agency (which spent millions on an investigation, but hadn't been ordered to specifically look for such residues); they were found by third-party meddling interlopers, and so weren't worth talking about. Or so the logic went...

Henry grimaced in guilt as he stood there thinking about how some of the people trapped in the burning buildings had chosen to jump to their deaths rather than face the impending flames, and how lethal, volcanic-like plumes of hot ash and other melted debris had chased terrified people for blocks down city streets. First hand reports from firefighters, emergency workers and other witnesses who told of hearing huge explosions in the buildings were also suppressed in the media. The collapse of the third tower was never explained; the entire subject of what caused it to inexplicably fall, in spite of having not been struck by an airplane, was dropped from the news after only one day, to disappear forever from the annals of history. Most of the world still believed that only two buildings had collapsed on that fateful day of October 13th, which would go down as one of the worst-bungled hoaxes and most bald-faced disgraces to humanity ever recorded in the underground chronicles of warfare.

The entire hellish episode had been blamed on a troublesome Persianic freedom fighter; a rather odd bird, born into great wealth and privilege, this "terrorist" had become inextricably involved in the political events unfolding around him, and had opted to abandon a life of luxurious pleasure in favor of leading a guerilla campaign against his people's oppressive enemies. One of these was the UFS, whom he accused of a number of henious crimes against humanity, including collusion with the mass-murdering country of Usheria. This terrorist had overnight became one of the most notorious public enemies the country had ever known, with top-brass military-industrial profiteers and zealous presidential candidates vowing to hunt him down to the ends of the earth. Unbelievably lucky people who had worked in the beseiged towers, and had "miraculously" decided not to show up for work on the morning they collapsed, were frequently featured in the media assuring viewers that the Persianic terrorist/monster had caused all the carnage, and demanding retribution for their fallen employees and co-workers. A morally and intellectually flaccid public, deliberately misled and kept constantly inflamed by fabricated news reports, naively accepted the media's words and began to persecute the "Persio-fascist terrorists" living amongst them, as a Satanist-controlled media stoked the fires of insanity from sea to shining sea.

Henry put his hands up to his face as he recalled how viciously zealous and incredibly gullible "patriots" had began to ostricize, harrass and assault Persianic-looking people. An exchange student was kicked and stomped to death in a far-right leaning southwestern state; Persianic- UFS women were beaten with baseball bats in Old Yorktown, a Usher stronghold center, and other atrocities were recorded all over the country. Never satisfied with ravaging just one continent, the Conspirators took advantage of the outbreak of patriotic fervor to go for the jugular of any entity on the planet that posed the slightest threat to their interests, with all military services paid for by the UFS. Covert special operations secretly authorized by the President expanded rapidly around the globe, usually consisting of sadistic drone strikes and mercenary raids dealt out to helpless, unoffending civilians; this was typically done on the premise that they were harboring terrorists, and so really deserved to be blown into small pieces. State-of-the-art, drone-delivered missiles and other weapons killed and maimed multitudes of completely innocent men, women and children living at subsistence levels in impoverished locations. Hundreds of these unexplained, uninvestigated and eventually forgotten ground and airstrikes were authorized every year, as profits flowed to hidden pockets. Henry had seen to it that outraged war-correspondents who managed to get stories of the mayhem out to the UFS public were battered mercilessly by television networks that had gone completely mad, while the President ordered arrests, long detentions and other actions against anyone overseas who spoke out against the carnage, even approving firebombing of the offices of lawyers representing suspected terrorists and abetters. It was an awesome and horrifying spectacle to behold; a self-perpetuating money-making machine, super-empowered and terrifyingly indifferent to human pain, going its insane way almost totally unchallenged.

Any citizen protesting the injustice of any of this madness was quickly targeted and became a victim of new laws which had been suddenly and spuriously passed. The "Loyalist Act," a torturously labyrinthine 1,776-page mandate written by a powerful High Court justice, permitted the investigation and arrest of anyone even slightly fitting the profile of an un-patriotic sympathizer of terrorism. People were placed under surveillance, houses were searched, personal computers and records were confiscated. Many people were arrested as terrorists, with some being deported to overseas detention centers where their legal POW rights were no longer applicable, as they had been cleverly re-classified "enemy fighters" instead of POW's; they were therefore subject to torturous interrogation techniques. The UFS High Court stopped hearing lawsuits and appeals brought by wrongfully imprisoned victims of the witch hunts that were taking place all around.

Henry had continued to obey his orders, imparting to the various heads of network and media outlets, in a very urbane and persuasive manner, the seriousness of the situation, and why it was best to totally and unquestioningly comply with the new government requirements in order for everybody to avoid utter disaster. He had arranged for highly-praised priests from Usheria, who called the illegal military excursion "a noble war," to be interviewed on the country's most popular talk shows. He had been forced to circulate a patriotic motto, a sign that showed the Usherian and UFS flags side-by-side with a caption below exclaiming: "Now It's Our Turn To Kill Them!" Bumper stickers, T-shirts and hats bearing this slogan were quickly distributed and began appearing on cars and bodies all over the country. And now, in spite of such a blatant and confident display of unconcealed solidarity between the two countries, that very same solidarity was being denied and any mention of it forbidden by law. This was typical of the kind of absurdist hypocrisy that was constantly being forced down the nation's throat.

Henry had begun to despise himself. That was the primary reason he had felt compelled to join Dan and the others in laying tentative plans for their incredibly dangerous, quite arguably insane venture. He was being torn apart by his emotions, and settling on a decisive plan of action had helped him deal with his anxiety. Now he feared he was about to pay the ultimate price for that ephemeral relief.

Henry sighed, then slowly but resolutely began descending the stairway. Whatever happened, he would back the others and go along with whatever they all decided was best. After all, he didn't have a hell of a lot of choice in the matter. Walking to the front foyer, Henry lifted his overcoat off of a rack besides the front door and put it on. He fingered the front doorknob, then abruptly turned to get another look at his beautiful entrance hall, with his family's pictures adorning the walls. After lingering for a few more precious moments, he opened the door and stepped out into the newly-born morning. Looking up, Henry paused; the seldom-appreciated sight of a pale blue sky stretching infinitely overhead, strewn with fine wispy white clouds here and there, held his gaze and transfixed him for a few seconds. The birds were beginning their morning calls, and the air smelled fresh and clear. Exhaling heavily, Henry lowered his eyes, slowly closing the heavy front door behind him.

Standing there alone in the clean, beautiful early morning light, Henry began to cry. Softly at first... then suddenly bending over, his right hand covering his eyes, he let himself give vent to all of his despair. His body shook violently, racked by sobs; he felt true hopelessness, as he had never experienced it before. He had no idea what he was going to do, though he suspected there were very few options left to him now. He didn't know if he would be coming back here.

After a while Henry recovered himself. Taking a handkerchief from his pocket, he wiped his face and eyes, then blew his nose. Straightening up completely, imploring himself to be brave, he began walking down the wide, ornately tiled path stretching out in front of him to whatever fate awaited, and didn't look back again.

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Copyright 2019 by Charles Adrian Trevino.