“If that mischievous financial policy, which had its origin in the North American Republic, should become indurated down to a fixture, then that Government will furnish its own money without cost. It will pay off debts and be without a debt. It will have all the money necessary to carry on its commerce. It will become prosperous beyond precedent in the history of the civilized governments of the world. The brains and the wealth of all coun­tries will go to North America. That govern­ment must be destroyed, or it will destroy every monarchy on the globe.”

                                 

                                                                                   - Times of London, 1865

 

 

 

 

 “The government, which was designed for the people, has got into the hands of the bosses and their employers, the special interests. An invisible empire has been set up above the forms of democracy.”

 -Woodrow Wilson, 28^th United States President

 

Chapter One

 

Professor Benedict Arthur rarely gave private talks he normally preferred giving lectures at universities or auditoriums not out of any delusions of grandeur, he just liked his message to be delivered to many people at once instead of one on one. The reason that he had accepted this request was more out of curiosity than money, although the hundred thousand pounds given for a private meeting did give him pause for thought, not to mention the all expenses paid private jet to fly him from Japan to London.   

     The invite had been left under his hotel room door with no name on the envelope, inside the envelope was one of his own business cards, although this one had been many years old. He had turned the card over in his hand and scribed on the back in extremely neat hand writing “Outside the Millennium Hotel, Knightsbridge, London, 23:30, 3^rd of February, a Jet is on standby.” Also inside the envelope was the hundred thousand pounds in sterling. The package had looked too bulky to have slipped under the door, whoever left it must have had access to his room.

     Benedict had sat for an hour staring at the business card in his hand unsure what to do until curiosity had gotten the better of him. He had packed his belongings and left the hotel, waiting outside had been a limousine which had took him to a private hanger. He had boarded a private jet headed for London. The jet was the most luxurious plane he had ever been on, whoever had requested this meeting was indeed not short of money. Benedict had been slightly uncomfortable the entire trip as aside from confirming that he was headed for London, neither the driver, stewardess nor the pilot would comment on anything else.

    As strange as the situation was, what he found even more perplexing than their silence was the luxury in which he was travelling. Benedicts specific knowledge of the history of money and his extreme political views rarely endeared him to the wealthy, as he was so outspoken against capitalism. Benedict would put the money from the envelope to good use, being the benefactor of thousands of food banks and other charitable causes up and down the British Isles.

     His charities included Scotland, despite them gaining independence. It had been his father, Reginald, whom had convinced him to help people north of the border, as he still believed in a true United Kingdom. Benedict would have no doubt assisted the Scottish people even if Reginald had not suggested it. At the time he had been and was still aghast at how events had and were still unfolding in Scotland since their Independence in 2024, it gave him chills even now thinking of what was happening to those north of the border.

     The need for such charity work in the remainder of the United Kingdom was down to the extreme poverty that had become the norm under today’s government, it was as the old axiom went, the rich had gotten richer and the poor had gotten poorer. Although there were no longer any grey areas of divides between north and south, upper, middle or working class. In this day and age it was purely those with and those without; geographical location was no longer a factor. The matter of Scotland was far more complex.

    Benedict was now in the back of a luxury Rolls Royce he had barely had time to stretch his legs, the Rolls had been waiting for him on the tarmac. Benedict had been taken to his hotel and left until the meeting time, he had been stewing the entire time wondering who had requested the meeting. At a few times while waiting he had even felt a little jittery but his curiosity was piqued. Benedict felt it in his bones that this meeting was out of the ordinary it had the air of importance to it, far more important that his usual lectures.

    Sitting on sumptuous leather upholstery looking out into the pitch dark, Benedict gazed up at Big Ben whilst passing Westminster, the Rolls was heading towards Westminster Bridge. The chauffer had not said a word either, not even when picking Benedict up from his hotel, he had merely wound down the window and nodded for him to get in. Again Benedict had been reluctant, since finding the envelope no one had hardly spoken to him, he still had an ominous feeling but reasoned that he had come this far and might regret not going a little further.

     A taxi passed them going in the opposite direction, heading towards Westminster whilst Benedict was on the bridge, the glare from the taxis headlights threw up his own reflection in the Rolls’ passenger window. His face that greeted him was one of a stoic man with piercing emerald eyes, a strong jawline, his hair jet black with flecks of grey. The grey hair did not look out of place on a man in his forties, but he had had grey hair since he was fourteen years old, his late mother, ever the worrier had made Benedict sit through several sessions of counselling, fearing stress was the cause. Benedict had always reasoned that this protectiveness was down to the fact that he was an only child.

     He missed his mother greatly it has been too long since he had visited her grave. Benedict’s thoughts quickly shifted to his father, Reginald. Whenever coming home to London he would always look in on him. Benedict’s lectures took him throughout the world, before this invitation to London, he had been in Tokyo, it had been the end of a tour of Japan. In truth the invite had come at the right time, he had felt a little tired of the constant start stop nature of his talks, having to allow time for the translators to keep up. A trip home never ceased to shore up his mood, no matter how dour it might be.

    Benedict would meet with his father tomorrow, he knew Reginald would never admit it, but he knew that his father was lonely. It had been well over a year since his mother had passed. As the car turned left after crossing Westminster Bridge, Benedict was still lost in thoughts of his father –losing track of where the car was heading. Reginald was a stubborn man, after the funeral while Benedict was still in England. Reginald had received a visit from a social worker who was concerned that his father couldn’t manage living in the Kensington three storey Victorian family home on his own.

    To prove that he could manage, Benedict’s father had chased the social worker out of the house with his walking cane in hand. At the front door of the house Reginald had javelined the cane at the poor fleeing man, missing him by inches but smashing the windscreen of the social workers Ford Mondeo. Except for the repair bill for the damage, it had been the last he had heard from social services that had been a year ago yesterday. It had also been the last time Benedict had seen his father. They spoke everyday over the telephone, no matter where in the world Benedict was. Benedict had tried to tempt his father with social media but Reginald had flatly refused.

    Benedict jumped with surprise as the passenger door swung open, he hadn’t even realised the car had stopped.

   ‘We are here, Professor Arthur.’ Said the Chauffer the man’s voice like crushed gravel.

   ‘Thank you, my good man.’ Said Benedict, while getting out of the Rolls Royce, he reached for his wallet in the breast pocket of his suit to tip the driver.

   Seeing the action the Chauffer shook his head. ‘That is not necessary, Professor.’

   ‘Quite, Quite,’ replied Benedict, while putting his hand back by his side, as the Chauffer shut the car door. As the door shut with a metallic clang, Benedict only realised now where he was, he was standing in the shadow of the London Eye. The chauffer had even mounted the pavement to get the car as close to the attraction as possible, they were literally at the bottom of the boarding ramp for the Eye. ‘What are we doing here?’

    ‘The meeting is to be conducted in one of the capsules.’ Said the Chauffer while gesturing towards the London Eye. ‘I will wait for you to return.’

     Without another word the driver turned and headed back to his own open car door and sat back inside. Benedict had watched him go then he turned back towards the gigantic tourist attraction. He felt the ominous shadow of worry fall over him again, never had he been in such a situation, it was the middle of the night and he was now going to meet a complete stranger in an enclosed space.

      After a moment he shrugged off such feelings and walked the short distance to the Eye, walking up the ramp towards the open capsule waiting for him to board. As he neared he could make out a tall lean looking man standing in the capsule who was looking out over the river to the opposite side. As Benedict reached the threshold of the capsule the man turned around. The man was lean as Benedict had suspected, his body was taught with ripcord muscles, the definition showing even through the man’s extremely expensive three piece suit. Even with the suit the man did not look like your typical businessman, more the air of an ex-military type.

     ‘Professor Arthur, thank you for accepting my invitation please come aboard.’ The man’s arms were spread wide in a welcoming pose, his handsome chiselled features shaped into a broad smile. He had severely cropped brown hair and bright blue eyes. ‘Allow me to introduce myself, I am Victor.’

      Benedict entered the capsule and as he did so the door closed, the capsules began to move upwards. Victor had not given his surname in his greeting, perhaps he was some wealthy banker, or techno-millionaire and had expected Benedict to recognise him from first name only, like Prince or some other celebrity.

     Victor had also not given any sort of reason for a meeting at such an ungodly hour, at such a bizarre location. Instead of letting his annoyance show, Benedict took it in his stride. He had met extravagant flamboyant millionaires before, he knew he had to just keep calm, and hope some sort of reason presented itself.

      ‘As lovely as the view is. May I ask why I am here?’ asked Benedict cutting to the chase.

       ‘What is your view of the Conservative government?’ asked Victor, while still wearing a warm smile.

       ‘I beg your pardon?’ asked Benedict, it wasn’t such an outlandish question, seeing as his political views were virtually transparent. But being asked a question while asking a question seemed plain rude.

      ‘Humour me please, Professor.’ Replied Victor obviously sensing Benedict’s annoyance. ‘There is a point to the question, and it will help answer yours, as to the reason why we have flown you half way around the world.’

      ‘Very well,’ replied Benedict, now more appeased, but still not happy with the situation. He settled into the much practiced response to this question, Benedict assumed the question was in regards to the recent financial crisis, considering his expertise.  ‘This Conservative government is no different from every other party that has been in power going back centuries. Meet the new boss, same as the old boss. The economic depression we find ourselves in is no different to a dozen other housing and banking crisis’ that have happened in the last century alone, along with those in centuries passed.

       ‘The current depression we are in is down to one thing and one thing only, it is down to the debt based central banking monetary system, and the fiat currency we use. This system rules our country and practically every other throughout the world, through thinly veiled wage slavery. It is a prison we have all been born into, it is one that we have been so indoctrinated by, we no longer see the bars constructed by a debt that can never be repaid.’

      ‘What about high taxes and unemployment, surely there are other factors to consider?’ asked Victor, with a neutral expression.

      ‘Those Victor, are by products of the central banking system.’ Benedict had anticipated this question, as it came up every time he gave a talk. ‘Every single pound note and coin you have in your wallet, every penny you have in your bank account. Every bit of money that is distributed by the government through the Bank of England is owed back to the central bank with a percentage of interest attached. What is the kicker is that only the principle amount borrowed is ever created, not the money to pay the interest, this ensures the debt is perpetual this is the reason for taxation to pay the debt. To put it into context if every single penny of debt was paid back to the central bank there would be no money left in the system and there would still be money owed in interest payments, as only the principal amount is ever created, not the money for the interest.

    ‘It is shear lunacy the money issued in the yearly budget creates debt. The money issued to pay off debt creates more debt. The money to bail out banks creates more debt. This is the reason for inflation and high taxes, as the more money in circulation the more debt and interest there is to pay and the more taxes need to be raised to pay it back, the government issues massive amounts of money in a desperate attempt to curb inflation and boost the economy but this exasperates the situation as the more money there is the higher prices get. This all creates massive debt for businesses and families it creates hardship, unemployment and foreclosures.

     ‘But it is not accidental, it is not as though the politicians and bankers don’t know about it, it is not as though they are blind to the prison that they have created. They know all too well, if the central bank is our prison, then they are our jailers, they hold all of the keys that keeps us locked in our struggle to survive.

     ‘Every market, bank and housing crash has been artificial. The central bank chooses to lower interest rates, to make it easier to lend and pay back money, until the economy is saturated with it, creating a massive bubble. Then the central bank increases interest rates exponentially, to high and too fast to pay back, bringing down markets. It is to keep the people on a hamster wheel, constantly struggling to provide for their families, it is a form of twisted and disgusting control. The people for the most part are either blinded as they were born into it, or they are too distracted in their struggle to have enough money to realise that we have been lied to.’

      ‘What is the alternative, hasn’t it always been this way?’ Asked Victor.

    ‘There has been a constant war between bankers and governments since time immemorial, Victor.’ Said Benedict softly. ‘The current system is the selling of government backed bonds through a central bank at interest. There have been several times in the past where world leaders have gotten wise to the truth of the debt based fiat currency we use and have abolished it.

    ‘To name but a few, President Jackson, President Lincoln, and President Kennedy, during their presidencies they issued interest free money and it worked, it won the war for Lincoln, but arguably caused his and JFK’s assassination. If you want a more recent example, look to none other than the channel island Guernsey they are now and have been issuing interest and debt free currency since 1816.’

     ‘Can this be done in Britain?’ asked Victor. ‘if it was in your power to make changes as you saw fit, what would you do, can this be stopped?’

    ‘Of course it can be done but it would be a long and dangerous road,’ replied Benedict. ‘Guernsey is largely under the radar as most people are blind to the true nature of the central bank therefore a tiny prosperous channel island isn’t a significant threat. Plus the interest free money system is a haven for people who wish to hide their money.

    ‘We wouldn’t be so lucky as the Bank of England is the second oldest and the third largest central bank in the world. Its loss would be a massive blow twofold. Firstly it would mean a lot of bankers pockets will get a whole lot lighter and secondly and more importantly it will be a catalyst which might spark a worldwide removal of central banks, therefore the central banks themselves will do anything they can to stop us.

     ‘Contrary to popular belief the power of bankers is not greatly exaggerated by conspiracy theorists, do not be fooled Victor. These selfish creatures own the lifeblood of nations, whoever owns the debts of nations, controls that nation and owns the world.

     ‘The first thing we would have to do is to raise awareness of the populace in order to pass laws to abolish the central banking system from the country. Then we can allow the government to issue money with no interest attached. Allow money to meet supply and demand, and allow the nation to function. That is the true function of money in governance, it is incredibly simple, but implementing it would not be so simple, it would have to go through parliament, through those who are in control of the prison.

    ‘To do it would mean raising the education and awareness of the masses those in power are only there through democracy. If enough people demand it the law can be changed. If enough people demand it, the people can be freed, politicians are retched things, but they are only in power under the sufferance of the people, removing them isn’t even the real obstacle!’

      ‘What is the real obstacle, Professor?’ asked Victor, seemingly rapt by Benedict’s explanation.

      ‘War,’ Replied Benedict, so softly it was almost to himself. ‘We would free our country of our shackles, but the rest of the world would still be in chains. We would be in direct competition with those who are still governed by a central bank. Not having to repay interest, we could issue as much money as we need to improve healthcare, to improve transport and technology, without having to pay the money back.

     ‘There would be no need to tax the people, as we would simply issue as much money as we needed to in order to pay for public services. We would attract businesses from around the globe who would seek to exploit our truly free economy, we would be able to outpace and outperform every nation on this planet.

      ‘Therein the obstacle lies Victor. In doing so we would paint a gigantic target on our backs. Those in power in foreign countries who still have their masses buried in the depths of wage slavery would seek to destroy our free economy by any means necessary. They will seek to reinstate our prison before their own populations realise the chains made of debt and taxes that is shackling them to their state. They will take up arms against us.’

       There was a long pause as Victor seemingly disseminated the information being imparted from Benedict. ‘Then what?’

       ‘There my dear Victor, I start to run out of answers.’ Replied Benedict. ‘We could of course defend ourselves, but our island nation could not defend against a multi-national strike force. We could try to sue for alliances with other countries, perhaps Commonwealth nations, but we would be hard pressed.

      ‘Some nations may be able to be persuaded to our banner if we can make them realise the merit of freeing their people of their central bank, but we would need allies with a strong military arm, as there is one nation who would be our single greatest threat. That nation is the United States of America, it has created an empire with its hidden foreign policy that has surpassed any other in history, they have the most to lose and they will be the first to strike against us.

        ‘The conflict would be inevitable it would be fought in our towns and cities, in our streets and fields. It may well be total war with a death toll in the millions, perhaps even involving nuclear or chemical weapons. So it would have to be asked if the risk would be worth it, would it be worth freeing the people of slavery only to have them used as cannon fodder in a war we might not even win.’

        Benedict and Victor stood in silence, they both looked out to the brilliantly lit cityscape of London. Benedict could not imagine what Victor was thinking, but himself, he was imagining London under siege. He was visualising England’s capital suffering bombardment far worse than the blitz, infantry and tanks fighting in the streets. The civilian populace being slaughtered as they sought to escape the destruction. 

      ‘You do not seem to be aghast at what I have told you, Victor.’ Said Benedict while taking a sidelong glance over at him. ‘After our discussion and your reaction, I would have to say that I have not told you anything you have not already known.

      ‘I would have to guess that you are not a millionaire or an academic, with your build and demeanour I would guess you are from a military background. If I am correct then I have to ask who you represent and why I am here.

      ‘You obviously do not represent a recognised government agency considering this bizarre meeting place. You obviously have power and influence, considering we are a stone’s throw from Westminster and yet, we are on a famous tourist attraction which is a high value target for a terrorist attack, after closing hours and no one has so much as batted an eyelid. So Victor, whom do you represent, and what do you want with me?’

       Victor tore his eyes away from the city below and made eye contact with Benedict. ‘I am an operative of an secret intelligence agency codenamed Legion. We do not represent any nation we have no political allegiances save for ourselves.

      ‘We in actuality do not exist in any official tangible sense our operatives leave no trace and have not been detected officially or unofficially by any government on the face of the earth.  We have been in operation since the 1950’s, our goal is and always has been to rid the world of central banks, and stem the reckless tide of capitalism. Our historical attempts out of necessity have been subtle, but due to escalating crises around the world, we have decided to take more overt action.’

       ‘What kind of overt action?’ asked Benedict after a moment of silence, trying to come to terms with what Victor had just disclosed. He did not doubt that what he had just been told was the truth, as he was trespassing on the London Eye and no one seemed to notice.

      ‘Our objective is to install a man of impeachable character into the role of Prime Minister of the United Kingdom.’ Replied Victor matter of factly. ‘The new Prime Minister is to free the people of wage slavery and make the world follow suit. As you so correctly predicted, we also anticipate conflict if we succeed in our goals. The man who is to become Prime Minister has to be honest, incorruptible and truly believe that a free economy is the only way forward for our nation. He is to be a figurehead for the people to cling to in the war to come.’

        To most people what Victor had disclosed would have shocked them to their core, he had basically told Benedict that they would manipulate democracy to install a candidate of their choice. This was no surprise to Benedict it was the practiced method of “democracy” the world over. The goings on of Parliament and the House of Lords, the White House and Congress, whatever system of governance which held a public forum was all a stage, a pantomime for the masses. The real decisions of governance are made behind closed doors, away from prying eyes well before the public at large ever get wind of them.

       ‘Trying to find anyone with impeachable character in politics is going to be a tall order.’ Chuckled Benedict. ‘Saying that, finding anyone with enough brains to understand what you propose is going to be almost insurmountable. Most prospective candidates, if their brains were made of dynamite, they wouldn’t have enough to blow their hat off. I take it I am to be an advisor in shortlisting candidates?’

       Victor shook his head, while chuckling in response to Benedict’s quip. ‘We do not want you as an advisor to choose a candidate, Benedict. We want you to be our candidate, we have watched you with close scrutiny for the better part of two decades we have seen that your political views have never changed. You are staunchly in favour of charitable causes and helping the people. We believe you have the character to weather the storm to come, and the resilience to inspire the people to change the course of our once great nation.’

    ‘Are you bloody well mad?’ asked Benedict, incredulously. ‘I am no politician I have spent my entire career trying to raise awareness of what those vile creatures do to society. I will not be one of them.’

   ‘Precisely Benedict.’ Replied Victor. ‘You are the one person to push through reform and rid the government of the rot at its core, you will be given free rein to do as you see fit. Do not make any snap decisions Professor, sleep on it, visit Reginald and discuss it with him.’

    ‘You would allow me to disclose this information to my father?’ asked Benedict, he was not surprised they knew of his father, it would stand to reason they would know if they had been following him for so long.

     Especially since Reginald had worked in some capacity or other in the military, although for whatever reason he would never discuss it with Benedict what he had done. Reginald would never disclose anything to his son, even more so in his latter teenage years as Benedict grew to despise the government.

    ‘We know you would, even if we asked you not to, plus your father is an honourable man, he is as trustworthy as you are.’ Replied Victor, with a warm smile returning to his face. ‘We are not asking you to change who you are, be yourself and that will be more than enough. You are the man for the job, you will lead us to true freedom.’

     The capsule shuddered as it completed its full turn and came to rest back at the boarding ramp. ‘If I do this, it will be done my way. You will not manipulate votes, or use corruption. I will create my own party and stand for election the old fashioned way, if the people cannot be made to see the prison around them, then they deserve to be condemned to a life sentence.’

   ‘Very well, Professor.’ Replied Victor, as the capsules door began to slide open. ‘Apart from your father please keep this information in the strictest of confidence, we disabled security cameras in sequence to mask your approach here, no one will know this meeting has ever taken place. We will be in touch to hear your final decision.’

    ‘Very well.’ Replied Benedict while turning to leave.

    ‘Benedict.’ Stated Victor, making Benedict turn back around, before speaking again Victor took out a Cuban cigar from his inside breast pocket and handed it to Benedict. ‘Tell your father that “Garvi says hello and that its better late than never.”’

    Benedict merely nodded in affirmation, he didn’t know who this Garvi was or what significance the cigar held as his mind was caught up with what Victor had offered him. With cigar in hand he left the capsule, he then headed down the ramp towards the Rolls Royce. It felt as though the weight of the world was resting upon his shoulders, in truth the fate of a nation already felt like a heavy burden to bare.

     He only hoped that he would have what it took to lead a nation, when the bombs started to fall, the bullets started to fly, the people started to scream and blood began to run through the streets. Freedom had always come at a cost, but Benedict did not know how steep a price the nation would have to pay, and he knew full well it could cost them everything. He had to at least try.