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 16th 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.
