Chapter 27 in the serialisation of the book 'Insurrection' 4th book in the 'Corpalism' series

27

Efforts and courage are not enough without purpose and direction
John F Kennedy

Mags stood and watched from the doorway for several minutes, unnoticed by Alb as she had been so often over the years. He was the kind of man, if she'd met him in her younger days, who could have persuaded her away from her devotion to MI6. With a soft snort of self derision she shook herself out of the reverie; like as not he wouldn't have noticed her then either.

"Albie," she said.

Gerry turned at the sound of her voice, "Mags?"

"Could I just have a quick chat with you, both of you?"

"Sure," said Gerry, enthusiastically, pleased to see her as always, "what is it, Mags?"

Alb seemed to be rooted in his chair. She tried again, "If we could just pop to my room, I have some more Angel cake, and we could have a cup of tea as well."

"Absolutely," said Gerry, leaning over and giving Alb a nudge.

Mags lead the way, Gerry following, admiring, as he always did, her no nonsense walk and erect bearing. Alb dragged himself to his feet; he was finding it hard to motivate himself since the meeting in the shed. He'd had high hopes but nothing had come of it; no-one but Gerry really seemed up for it and it wouldn't work with just the two of them.

He was still disconsolate when he walked into Mags' living room and the cheery decor did nothing to dispel his gloom. The cake helped a bit as did the steaming mug of tea, a combination he always found hard to resist.

"What is it, Mags?" asked Gerry.

"There's someone I'd like you to meet." She looked uncomfortable but there was a determined glint in her eye. "He's an old associate," she continued, "more an old friend, really."

Gerry frowned, she'd not mentioned this 'old friend' before, he knew she'd been a JP in the past and must have known people, but he'd thought she was alone in the world, a bit like himself.

"Right," said Alb, lack lustre, "no bother, whenever he's around." He'd not quite forgiven Mags her recent outburst, all that nonsense about Chamberlain, calling him Neville like she knew him, insulting Churchill.

"He's around now, I just need to ask him to pop along."

"What, right now?" Alb was quite put out, tea and cake had been a pretext then, he hated being tricked. He thought about leaving but was too tired and too comfortable to move.

"Yes," said Mags, sending a text, "he'll be along shortly."

"This is all very cloak and dagger," said Gerry, curiosity piqued.

"Clandestine, I call it," muttered Alb, cutting himself another generous slice of cake.

Mags spoke again, "There's something I need to tell you before he arrives." Her voice was unusually strained. She paused then said hurriedly, "He used to work for MI6."

Gerry started in surprise, Alb froze in the act of biting into his cake. "MI6?" said Gerry incredulously.

"MI6?" repeated Alb.

They looked at each other, both knowing what the other was thinking, aware of the risks they had taken speaking of their intention to wage war on Islam and the other foreigners in their midst.

Mags, more than aware of the tensions that accompanied knowledge of her acquaintance with members of MI6, sipped her tea.

"That might not be such a good idea," said Alb, cake and fatigue forgotten, pushing himself out of his chair, all set to leave with alacrity.

"It's too late now, Alb," said Mags, "he's here and he's coming in."

The door opened and a large man shambled in, age indeterminate but certainly not young, all bushy eyebrows and jowls, your favourite uncle, not anyone's idea of MI6. Alb was distinctly unimpressed and completed his exit of the chair to stand pugilistically in the middle of the room.

"Mackie," said Mags, moving to greet him, "these are two of my best friends, Albert Rayner and Gerry Arbuthnot. Albert, Gerry, meet Sir Robert MacDonald. "

"Mackie will do nicely," said the man, his voice a rumble. There was a residual accent in his voice; Alb linked it to the name and placed it as Scottish. "Pleased to meet you," the man continued, proffering his hand to Alb and Gerry in turn, enveloping theirs in his own bear like paw.

"Pleased to meet you," muttered Gerry, as they shook hands. Alb remained silent, jaw gritted.

"Margo has told me all about you and your plans to get back at the enemy within," said Mackie.

Gerry flicked a look at Mags, stupidly more thrown by 'Margo' and all that this entailed than the fact she'd told this stranger all about their revolutionary intentions. He then looked to Alb for guidance, ready to act now if need be, he'd get Mackie, big bear of a man though he be, but Alb would have to keep Mags quiet and subdued, he couldn't because he was in love with her.

"She has asked if I would offer my assistance in some way."

"Your assistance?" said Alb, still standing, still ready to do battle if needs must.

"Yes," said Mackie, seating himself, "I hear she makes the most wonderful Angel cake." As he spoke he leaned over and cut himself a large slice.

"Why would you help us?" asked Alb, "and how?"

"For one thing I'm going to tell you what's really happening in this country," Mackie's words were slightly muffled by the cake filling his cheeks, "and to the rest of the world."

"What does that mean, exactly?" asked Alb.

"I'm going to tell you who is really behind it all," he glanced up at Mags, "Any chance of tea?"

"Behind it all, behind what?" said Gerry, outraged by his casual familiarity.

"He means that most things happen for a reason," said Mags, stepping in before it got out of hand, "that there's a plan in place. He thinks your actions will either speed the process along or, if you listen to him, you might be able to slow them down."

"Gentlemen," said Mackie, "please take a seat and let me explain." Alb and Gerry hovered in the middle of the room, neither knowing what they should do. "Come," Mackie urged, "take a seat and I'll try to explain, as briefly as I can."

Alb puffed out and then, shrugging, sat down. Gerry did likewise, both of them perched on the edge of their seats, ready to make a nifty getaway.

"I won't give you detail," said Mackie, "that will come later when we present to your colleagues."

"Who said you could present to our colleagues?" questioned Alb. He was damned if he'd be cowed by Sir bloody MacDonald, or whatever his name was.

"They will have to know why we need to attack the people we eventually attack," said Mackie.

"We already know what we're going to do," said Alb, truculently.

"Quite so," said Mackie, eyes twinkling. For a moment Gerry thought he might be suppressing laughter but the moment passed. "But there might need to be modifications and we will need to explain them properly."

"Please, can you just listen," said Mags, "if anyone knows what's going on in the world it's him."

"For you, Mags, if you really want us to," said Gerry, "we'll listen, won't we, Alb."

"What?" Alb was caught in mid-glower, still wondering whether he could take Mackie in a ruck.

Gerry nudged Alb in the ribs and hissed, "Just say you'll listen, play it cool."

"Oh," said Alb, smiling without teeth, "yes, of course, we'll listen, Mags."

Mackie shook his head, "I heard that."

"What?" said Gerry, innocence personified.

"I heard you whisper to him," said Mackie, in irritated disbelief, "you people are so childish. Margo, what have you got me into here?"

"Please Mackie," said Mags, "just give them a chance."

He shook his head, but relented, "Okay, listen up, imagine it's 1066. The Saxons, are ruled by an alien elite, the Normans and William the Conqueror is king. He makes all the laws which are designed to be advantageous to the Normans." He paused while Mags excused herself, going into her kitchenette to make a fresh brew and get some more Angel cake. "Everything is now owned by the rich French and the Saxons are nothing but serfs in their own land."

Alb and Gerry nodded. Alb was hooked, albeit reluctantly, history of England, right up his street.

"OK, bounce on a few hundred years; WWII has just ended, Labour has been elected and Socialism and Communism are on the rise and Fascism is dead."
Alb and Gerry nodded affirmatively.

"Or is it?" asked Mackie.

Alb frowned and Gerry sat upright, "Of course it is," said Alb, darkly, "and Hitler's dead."

"Hitler's dead yes," said Mackie, "but what of fascism?"

"Well, granted there are still pockets of it around," said Gerry, "even today there are a few fascists here and there."

"That's because it was never our intention to defeat fascism," said Mackie, "Hitler and Germany, yes, but fascism, no."

"That's not right," stated Gerry, "we were fighting Fascism and the Nazis, my dad fought in....."

"Forget all that," said Mackie, impatiently, "you just need to think about what fascism offered to those in power."

"It didn't offer anything," said Alb.

"Wrong, it offered them everything," said Mackie. "It offered them a way to get back the power they had lost through the centuries. It showed them how easy it was to control the masses through propaganda. It demonstrated that you can kill millions of people and, as long as you don't lose, get away with it. It showed them how they could become supremely wealthy whilst fooling the masses into thinking they too were better off. It showed them how to reduce the people to a modern serfdom, one managed by their own greed as opposed to restrictive laws. And the invention of the computer chip enabled them to globalise their ambitions."

Mackie had said all of this almost without pausing for breath.

Alb was stunned into a resentful silence. Gerry was clearly mesmerised.

Into the slight lull Mags brought fresh cups of tea and another huge Angel cake.

"Now then," said Mackie, "think again of 1066 and how William ran England, a country he had recently conquered. Now expand that idea to consider that the world is not a series of countries but just one country. The new global aristocracy are the bankers, the corporate executives, the sports personalities, singers, artists and the like. Their ultimate goal it is to reduce the rest of you to debt ridden slaves, thus raising themselves up further, to the level of gods."

Gerry bit into his Angel cake, not tasting it, wide eyed.

"That is why Britain has become a multi-cultural society, that is why America is on the edge of civil war, that is why manufacturing has been sent to the third world, that is why the banks are orchestrating a financial meltdown. The intention is that by the end of it, there will be no strength left anywhere in the world to resist their plans. There will be no one country that has an identity strong enough to allow its people to stand proud and defy them. You are to become the new serfs to the new global aristocracy in what is commonly referred to as the New World Order."

"The new world what?" said Alb, so much for commonly referred to, he'd never heard of it.

"So you see, attacking a few foreigners isn't really going to stop them, is it?" said Mackie.

"It's all very well for you to say," protested Alb, "but what can we do? Who can we attack?"

"Don't listen to him, Alb mate," said Gerry, "he's just trying to put us off."

"No he's not," said Mags, "he's telling you who the real enemy is, the real people we should be attacking."

"So who are they then?" demanded Alb.

Cheers for reading

Arun








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