Chapters 34 and 35 of the thriller "D.C Undercover" Oscar Bartoli (Scarith Books/New Academia Publishing)

 

Chapter 34 

In the jungle in Timbiqui, in southwest Colombia.

“What you are seeing here, Sir, is the latest submarine model. It is camouflaged in green and blue.”

Mauricio Herrera was showing Edmundo Gutierrez the technological and operational specs of a new product built in a small shipyard hidden in the jungle. Guards armed with machine guns surrounded the two men.

“Interesting,” commented Gutierrez. “Tell me how the project came to be and how it has evolved…”

“The first models were put into water in 2000. They were semisubmersibles. They navigated close to the surface and could be spotted easily due to their conning tower and electric-diesel engine discharge. This one is a real submarine. See: it’s made of fiberglass and wood so it can’t be detected by radar or sonar probes. It has two engines with a 5,700-liter naphtha tank and a range of 3,200 kilometers. It travels at 11 kilometers an hour or 5.9 knots. It fits a crew of three and can carry ten tons of cocaine from Colombia toMexico.”

“How many are you launching now?”

“Almost four per month.”

Edmundo Gutierrez sat down on a folding chair and picked up a glass of lemonade heavily spiked with ice cold vodka from a nearby table. The 100 percent humidity in the cleared jungle area made it hard to breathe. Everyone was covered in sweat.

“What happens if the Colombian or Mexican coastguard intercepts a submarine?” asked Gutierrez.

Mauricio Herrera smiled. “If discovered, the crew can sink the sub in less than a few minutes and then wait for the coastguard to pull them out. They can’t be put in jail unless there is overwhelming proof against them. It is true, however, that the Americans are pushing for laws that would allow for arrest for reasonable cause. After all why would a bunch of people be swimming in the middle of the ocean?”

Gutierrez wiped the sweat from his forehead and neck with a paper towel. Then after putting some salt on his left hand and licking it, he poured himself a glass of Tequila.

“How much do you pay them?” he asked. 

“About $3,000 each. That’s nothing for us, but for them and their families it’s a fortune.”

“How many shipyards do you have?”

“Enough,” answered Herrera without offering further details. He was nervous. His superiors in the drug cartel had recommended Gutierrez to him, so it meant he was someone to be respected and he looked it. But Herrera was not supposed to offer any specific information.

“The shipyards are located by  muddy rivers along the Colombian coast line that feed into the Pacific Ocean. Every so often a river widens at a bend and that’s where we set up the shipyards using prefabricated parts produced in various area of the country. Places like this are protected by mangroves and tropical vegetation.”

“How much does a submarine cost?” pressed Gutierrez as he signaled one of the guards to refill his glass. “Great Tequila,” he then said.

“We make it. As for the sub, it depends on the length and cargo capacity. One like this goes for about $2 million and it takes about one year to build it. Most of them are used only once but if all goes well the profit margin is high.”

“Not less than $450 million,” commented Gutierrez lighting a cigar.

The sun was setting and the air was cooling. The dockworkers began heading towards their sleeping tents. Some of them accompanied by their women..

“But how can they navigate properly for hundreds of miles in such a small space?” asked Gutierrez. His questions were beginning to raise Herrera’s suspicions. He had learned since he was a boy not to trust anyone – especially supposed friends.

“They use GPS powered by the batteries of two engines, with 400 horsepower. And there’s the network…”

“Meaning what?” 

“The larger cartels decided to establish a network of high seas fishing boats, each in a specific sector. These big fishing boats are a reference point for the crews – a place where they can get food and fuel when they surface.” 

This was old, common knowledge information widely available even in the press. Herrera was not revealing anything new.

“Mauricio, earlier you said that radar and sonar probes couldn’t pinpoint these new fiberglass submarines. So how can they find them?” asked Gutierrez as he chewed on his cigar.

“From above, from the air. Even though we try to camouflage them. And we try to hide the engine discharge by releasing it through a long tube to reduce infrared detection. Unfortunately coastguard and police surveillance flights have intensified, as has the number of submarines discovered. So we decided to modify our technology.”

“I don’t understand. Explain,” said Gutierrez. He didn’t like guessing games and wanted to work with collaborators and underlings who gave precise, concise and convincing answers. Mauricio Herrera was an underling even if he was the shipyard’s manager – or at least that’s how he had introduced himself. But Gutierrez was certain that someone like Herrera, who spoke as an educated man, was in reality some sort of public relations expert for the cartel Gutierrez had been dealing with in Mexico.

“What you see is this shipyard’s latest submarine model. As in other shipyards, we will also start building torpedoes. They are submarines but they don’t have an engine. A fishing boat pulls them along at a depth of 30 meters, as if they were a large net. In case of danger, the torpedo is let go. It sinks and releases a buoy with an encrypted transmitter that allows for the recovery of the torpedo and its load. Currently 90 percent of successful shipments are made this way.”

Gutierrez interjected, “Many shipments are also made using ultra lights that go undetected by radar.”

“Only small quantities, not more than a 150 kilograms. What counts are the large shipments. To date the submarines have delivered loads of tons of cocaine. But we have other plans.” 

“Meaning what?”

“The future is in remote operated crewless subs, like air drones. The well-developed technology used for air drones can be adapted for submarines. We have moved beyond the planning stage into construction. It’s all driven by the increasing American demand for drugs, as you well know.”

The sound of an approaching helicopter interrupted them. It landed nearby. Herrera led Gutierrez to the helicopter and helped him in. He waved goodbye as the pilot took off.

Gutierrez put on his headphones and asked the pilot about the flight plan.

“We will fly for about 30 minutes and land at a private airport where a Falcon is waiting to take you to Acapulco.”

The Equatorial jungle unfolded under the helicopter that flew just above the treetops to avoid possible rocket attacks. 

_____________________________________________________

Chapter 35

The taxi stopped in front of the white steps of the House of Temple. Its real name was Home of the Supreme Council, 33 Degree, Ancient and Accepted Scottish Rite of Freemasonry, Southern Jurisdiction, Washington, DC.

After paying and collecting the receipt, Cardoni got out of the taxi. He glanced at the two sphinxes flanking the steps and proceeded to the entrance.

The House of Temple was one of the best-known Masonic places in Washington – not only to visiting Freemasons from around the world but also to “normal” tourists attracted by the fame of its vast library and its tens of thousands pro- and anti-Freemasonry books.

The former Grand Master and founder of the Rock climbed with some effort. He had had a heart attack six months earlier and had been forced to go on a strict diet that had led to a significant loss of weight.

It was 4 p.m. on a fall day. The sky was dark gray and a storm had been forecast. Visitor hours had ended so Cardoni, huffing and puffing after the long up the marble climb steps, found himself in front of a tightly shut door. He rang the doorbell.

After a wait of several minutes, through the door’s glass panels he saw a man in his fifties, dressed in a dark suit, approach.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Cardoni. I am the Grand Commander’s secretary. He is waiting for you in his office.”

The secretary led Cardoni to a large vestibule ringed with immense columns. As they walked he described the building’s salient features to the visitor.

“The temple was designed in 1911 by the architect John Russell Pope when he was only twenty-seven-years old. Pope’s inspiration was the Mausoleum of Halicarnassus, one of the Seven Wonders of the World. It took only four years to build and it was opened on

October 18, 1915.”

They went up a divided staircase and arrived at the main temple that was notable for its natural lighting, which was specifically chosen to represent the Freemason goal of achieving enlightenment through a long process of self-improvement.

In addition to the Bible, on the altar were also the sacred texts of other religions (Jewish, Muslin, Hindu, Buddhist etc.) because Freemasons worldwide believe in the Grand Architect of the Universe who unites all.

The secretary stopped in front of a crypt. 

“In 1944 the remains of General Albert Pike were removed from the cemetery of Oak Hill and brought here. Pike wanted to be cremated!  On the other side, in 1952 the body of John Henry Cowles, Grand Commander for thirty-one years, was laid to rest. Cowles is the person who reinvigorated the Scottish Rite.”

The secretary then spent a few minutes to talk about the General, the only Confederate one to have a statue in Washington. He was a true Renaissance man. He knew Latin, Greek and Sanskrit as well as English, French and Spanish. He was a lawyer, a prolific author and orator. A heavy set man with long flowing hair and a beard, Albert Pike is one of American Freemasonry’s most distinctive personages.

Cardoni knew all of this, but out of politeness he listened attentively.

“After having lived in Missouri, New Orleans and Arkansas and having fought in both the Mexican War and the Civil War, Albert Pike finally came to Washington and was made Grand Commander of the Scottish Rite. He held office for thirty-two years until his death. In 1871 he wrote Morals and Dogma of the Ancient and Accepted Scottish Rite of Freemasonry, an 860-page book.” 

The secretary didn’t say it, but Cardoni knew that the book had many followers, and had received Catholic accusations of Satanism.

By then they had arrived at the office of the Grand Commander who waited for them seated at his large desk. Next to him was the Grand Master of the Grand Lodge of Washington DC.

                                                       

They all shook hands, but the Grand Commander and The Grand Master were visibly upset.

The Grand Commander addressed the visitor. 

“Mr. Cardoni, we are only seeing you because of repeated requests. We have cancelled all requests for meetings except for yours because you have come from Italy. We are still in a state of shock from the tragedy that happened here a month ago where our dear Brother Andrew was barbarously murdered and for no apparent reason. Investigations are still ongoing, but for now there are no leads. Consequently we are operated under strict security measures.”

Cardoni tried to smile, but the atmosphere was very tense.

“I understand,” he said. “The murder was very disturbing news for Freemasons worldwide.”

The Grand Commander was in no mood for pleasantries and rudely pointing a finger at Cardoni said, 

“By the way, we have checked on you with other Italian Brothers. They confirmed that you no longer belong to any Masonic Obedience. So I want to be very clear: we are receiving you only because of your status as an expert in esoteric matters. This meeting is being taped.”

Cardoni was used to sparring with both enemies and rivals. But this time he was going to have to fight differently. He remembered a metaphor told him by a Shinto monk who was also a master in martial arts. “Judo” means “the easy way.” Do not fight violence, but bend as a willow does under the weight of snow and then shake it off. Rigid tree branches break.

“My dear Grand Commander, you are perfectly right. I am no longer connected with any Italian Masonic Obedience. However, as you well know, one is a Freemason for life. It is a vocation, as our Institution is not a religion but a way of life. I asked for this meeting because I wanted to discuss several aspects of General Pike’s life that may be of extreme relevance in current times.”

The obsequious and slimy Italian caught the leader of the Scottish Rite and the Grand Master of Washington off balance. They exchanged glances.

“What are you talking about?” asked the Grand Commander in a suspicious tone.

“I will explain. I would like to remind you that a while ago I established a group called The Rock whose importance should be known to you. It is an organization whose members belong to the highest levels of business, politics, art, economics and finance. Therefore, given the circumstances of this meeting, I wish to underline the fact that despite being as you said ‘an expert in esoteric matters’ I am not here on my own personal behalf, but as someone who represents a worldwide constituency.”

The Grand Commander opened a drawer, took out a stress ball and started using it. Meanwhile the Grand Master had lowered his gaze and begun staring at his shoes.

“May I continue?” ask Cardoni in a low voice.

The leader of the Scottish Rite gestured affirmatively.

“So, to get to the point, I wish to call your attention to General Pike’s correspondence with one of Italy’s Founding Fathers: Giuseppe Mazzini.”

“You are referring to a story whose veracity has been disproved hundreds of times despite being adduced by anti-Freemason sites that vomit groundless and completely false accusations against us."

The Grand Commander’s response came out so automatically it seemed as if it had been prepared in advance in anticipation of the visitor from Rome’s arrival.

“With all due sincerity, I expected your reaction. It is true that there is no proof of this correspondence between Pike and Mazzini – apparently it disappeared in England. However the thousands of citations in books and blogs throughout the world seem to give it credence.”

“I am astonished that a Freemason of your stature believes in something that only discredits Pike, Mazzini and the entire Institution.”

By this time the Grand Commander’s stress ball had been used so strenuously that it was about to fall apart as he said, “I am sure that now you will talk about the Illuminati and their influence. It’s a tired scenario. Let me remind you that while in Italy Freemasonry has always been opposed by the Vatican which never got over the fact that the Masonic Founding Fathers of the country managed to limit its temporal power, here in the U.S. between 1828 and 1838 there was an actual Anti Masonic Party that had many followers among religious movements. Our Brotherhood paid the consequences and had to operate clandestinely.”

Cardoni sensed the two men were on the defensive. He replied:

“I know the history. The disappearance of William Morgan, the Freemason from Batavia, New York was the spark that set off the anti-Masonic sentiment. Masons were accused of having killed him because he wanted to publish ritual secrets.”

“Nowadays every detail of those secrets is readily available in every bookstore” said the Grand Master who had tired of staring at his shoes.

Cardoni smiled at him pityingly and continued speaking. 

“Let’s stick to the correspondence between Giuseppe Mazzini and Albert Pike. It has disappeared, destroyed by those who did not want it to be known. However, just as happened with the Apocryphal Gospels, there are many versions of it and they all confirm the accuracy of General Pike’s predictions of three world wars. I’d like to focus on the third world war…”

He then opened his briefcase and took out copies of several ornately handwritten pages. He handed them over to the two men so they could study them and added, “You are experts in Albert Pike’s works and will recognize his handwriting.”

The Grand Commander handed back the pages and replied, “There are dozens of fakes in circulation.”

“Alright,” sighed Cardoni. “Let’s admit for a moment instead that these are authentic. I only want to point out what Pike wrote about a third world war after having predicted the first two as they actually occurred.” 

He began reading:

   “The Third World War must be fomented by taking advantage of the differences caused by the agents of the Illuminati between the political Zionists and the leaders of the Islamic World. The war must be conducted in such a way that Islam (the Moslem Arabic World) and political Zionism (the State of Israel) mutually destroy each other. Meanwhile the other nations, once more divided on this issue will be constrained to fight to the point of complete physical, moral, spiritual and economical exhaustion. We shall unleash the Nihilists and the atheists, and we shall provoke a formidable social cataclysm, which in all its horror will show clearly to the nations the effect of absolute atheism, origin of savagery and of the bloodiest turmoil. Then everywhere, the citizens, obliged to defend themselves against the world minority of revolutionaries, will exterminate those destroyers of civilization, and the multitude, disillusioned with Christianity, whose deistic spirits will from that moment be without compass or direction, anxious for an ideal, but without knowing where to render its adoration, will receive the true light through the universal manifestation of the pure doctrine of Lucifer, brought finally out in the public view. This manifestation will result from the general reactionary movement which will follow the destruction of Christianity and atheism, both conquered and exterminated at the same time.”

Cardoni finished reading, paused while the other two men stared at him impassively, and then concluded:

“Say what you wish about the authenticity of the document. But history confirms what predicted by Albert Pike, starting with the conflict between Arabs and Israel.”

“What I will confirm,” said the Grand Commander, “is that it’s a fake that has been thoroughly discredited. We cannot waste our time chasing after crazy people who write books and blogs. You forgot to mention any of the 6,338 prophecies made by Nostradamus even though they might be equally or more verifiable.”

A smiled covered the face of the Grand Master of Washington as he nodded in agreement.

“Again,” replied Cardoni, “I respect and understand your position. But let’s be practical: the third world war will be a conflict between the oil-based civilization and the alternative energy one. Rock is on the side of oil producers and refiners. We believe that the White House’s insistence on reducing oil imports and investing tremendous amounts of money on non-polluting energy resources will result in a terrible conflict. This is our proposal: we will give the Rite $3 million for its charity work if it supports us.”

The Grand Commander stood, rested his hands on his desk, and said, “Now I fully understand why you no longer belong to any Masonic Obedience. You are not a Freemason. Rather, with all due respect, you are an international fixer. We Freemasons do not meddle in religious or political matters. Therefore we totally reject your proposal – as if it had never been made. Good evening.”

Cardoni tried to shake hands, but his outstretched hand was ignored. The secretary, who had been present throughout but seated apart, accompanied him to the exit.

Cardoni went down the steps between the two sphinxes and once on 16^th Street he tried, in the rain and unsuccessfully, to hail a taxi.

He covered his head with his briefcase and sadly walked towards the hotel, the Jefferson, that was on the same street but at least twenty minutes on foot away.