Helter Skelter by Arun D Ellis - book 7 in the Corpalism series

The Handling

Gareth scanned the room, eyes settling on a dark-haired young man sitting on a stool at the bar. He'd put on a bit of weight since last he'd seen him, broadened across his shoulders but, no doubt about it, it was Louis. Gareth took a deep breath, lowered his shoulders and relaxed his face into amiability, effortlessly becoming younger, less than he was.

"Hey you, long time, no see," he said, smiling and lowering himself onto the adjacent stool.

Louis glanced up, a frown creasing his forehead. He wanted no company. His face cleared when he recognised the man, "Dave," he said, "hey, good to see you."

"Mutual, I'm sure," smiled Gareth, surprised to find he meant it, "it's been a while."

"So, where've you been?" Louis' mood, always mercurial, had changed completely.

"You know I'm not supposed to tell you that," said Gareth, finger to his nose.

"Of course," said Louis, disappointed.

"Iraq." This was said with a conspiratorial wink.

"I thought we were out of there."

"ISIS."

"Wow," said Louis, admiration widening his eyes, "pretty scary."

"They're just men like the rest of us."

"Yeah, of course," said Louis, "but I meant all the beheadings and stuff."

"Fear tactics, in a stand up fight they're just men."

"Yeah, yeah," said Louis, unable to let it go, "but if they catch you?"

"No-one would let themselves be taken alive, not now anyway."

"Right," said Louis, with a nod, "are we winning?"

"It'll never end. Too many sides, no clear objectives and too much money to be made." Louis' face was a question mark, causing Gareth to add, without thinking, "It's all about profit and the oil at the end of the day."

Louis tried to look like he knew what Dave was talking about and failed miserably.

"How've you been anyway, Louis?" asked Gareth, getting off dangerous ground quickly.

Louis sighed and sipped his pint, "Not good, my great grandfather died recently."

"Sorry to hear that," said Gareth, again a genuine sentiment, "pint of Fosters, please mate," he said, addressing the hovering barman, "what about you?" to Louis.

"No, thanks, I'm good," said Louis, covering the top of his glass, "I've gotta get home."

"Oh, come on, you're not going to make me drink alone, after all I don't get back much."

"No, sorry Dave," said Louis, "really can't stay long."

"Okay, no worries."

They sat and sipped their pints.

"Listen," said Louis, "I haven't told anyone this, no-one knows, only family, but my Gampy, he was a fucking Nazi."

Gareth tried to look suitably shocked and thought he pulled it off.

"Yeah, fucking SS," hissed Louis, too loudly, "death's head and all that."

It was clear that Louis had been at the bar for a while.

Gareth went for a neutral response, testing the water, "Compared to some of the things we've done in the name of democracy, I guess the Nazis were small fry."

"What?" said Louis. This was unexpected, support from an outsider, someone like Dave who knew things. This might be worth hearing.

"Some of the things we've done," said Gareth, leaning in, lowering his voice, "you wouldn't believe. I've seen grown men crack under the strain and I'm not talking no powder puffs."

Louis was hooked; excitement in his eyes.

"Real fucking hard bastards, Louis. If there's a hell, that's where I'm headed."

"No shit," said Louis, finishing his pint. He made no move to leave.

"You sure you won't have another one?" asked Gareth.

Louis pretended to think for a second, then, "Okay, but just a quick one."

∞

Louis fiddled with the key to his flat, by now seriously incapacitated, his voice thick, "You sure you won't come in?"

Gareth wanted him safely inside the flat, then he was off to write his report and get the Colonel off his back. "No, I'm good, kid," he said, "I've got to go, people to see, you know."

Louis nodded slowly, eyes owlish, "Okay, I'll see you again though, eh? And thanks for the....stuff," he said, patting his pocket.

"Oh, no worries, make sure you use them judiciously." He saw the blank look, "carefully," he amended.

∞

As he walked away Gareth texted the Colonel promising a report on his desk in the morning.

His instructions had been 'to employ all means necessary to get the subject to a place where he would happily act as a weapon' and 'to raise the Jewish question and the war'. He'd been supplied with a reading list and, there was no other way, he would have to work through it if he was to get Louis to the place the Colonel had described. He had no material of his own so the only option was back at the office, in the archives.

∞

He swiped his pass and walked in through the doors.

"Can I help you?" The question came from a bespectacled, wizened man, wrapped in a cardigan that had seen better days. He always pretended not to know any of the agents.

No point in arguing the toss, Gareth said, "I'm looking for anything you have on the build up to the Second World War."

"Downstairs, at the back," said the man, turning away, job done.

Five minutes later Gareth found himself down the darkest end of the filing system. He flicked the light switch and after a stuttering few moments, a couple of 40 watt bulbs flickered into life. To no noticeable effect. He switched on the torch on his phone.

Two hours and dozens of box files later he had several small folders laid out on the table. He'd ticked off most of what had been on the prescribed reading list and added a few more for luck.

The first folder, marked Lt Col T E Lawrence, he'd selected out of idle curiosity. He flicked through birth, early service records, time in Arabia fighting the Turks, his friendship with Moseley, the planned meeting with Hitler; that had been of particular interest. Why would a British war hero want to meet Hitler?

His interest was piqued when he read Lawrence had died in an accident on his motorbike; swerving to avoid two boys on bicycles on a road he knew well.

The subsequent rumours of a black car and MI5 murder squad, possibly acting on Churchill's orders intrigued him further as did the later suicide of one of the witnesses, a Private Catchpole.

He shrugged, he had work to do; reaffirming that plus ça change, plus c'est la même chose was not part of his brief, he knew nothing ever changed.

He opened the folder marked 'The Protocols of the Elders of Zion' circa 1905, Russian origin, author unknown, suspected to be a fake, designed to smear the Zionist community. There was a section on the many pogroms in the 'Pale' which he knew to be modern day Lithuania, Belarus, Poland, Moldova, Latvia, Ukraine and parts of Eastern Russia.

These took place in 1905, subsequent to Russia's defeat by Japan in the same year, although pogroms were a fairly regular occurrence in Russia at that time.

He flicked forwards through the folder, there were more details on the Jewish hierarchy, a section on Theodor Herzl and the founding of the Zionist Organisation by the Zionist Congress; the primary function of which was 'to gather funds from Jews around the world with the practical intention of influencing political, economic and cultural leaders to support the creation of a Jewish homeland'. He found this very interesting; apparently Herzl had initially been offered Uganda by the British Government as a possible home for the Jews but he had rejected it.

He opened a box file about WWI. He was instantly intrigued.

It stated in simple terms that the causes of WWI were diverse; French desire for revenge for the defeat of 1870 and the subsequent loss of Alsace-Lorraine; Serbian desire to assimilate all the Serbian peoples in the Austro-Hungarian Empire; Austro-Hungarian naivety and military weakness; Russian expansionist aims in the Balkans; German belligerence; a weakening British economy when measured against a growing German economy and, finally, a weak willed Liberal cabinet in Downing Street intimidated by Churchill 'in all his war paint'.

Gareth made a disgusted noise in his throat; Churchill was a favourite of his and it annoyed him when people took cheap shots at the dead. He sucked his teeth, conceding the point that Churchill was alive when this particular report had been written.

It struck him that all of these things taken singularly would've been enough to have caused a political and military crisis, let alone aggregated. However the report categorically stated that all European leaders had resolved many similar conflicts in the past without major cataclysm. It further stated that all parties were acutely aware of the disastrous consequences for them all should any disagreement be allowed to escalate to an all out shooting affair; in essence it had always been in their own best interests not to go to war.

He read on; 'but there is a now a new power on the world stage, as yet underestimated by the leaders of nations. This power exists outside of the normal boundaries that separates nations and keeps them divided. This new power crosses all borders yet works only for the one objective, the creation of a new Zionist state. For the Jews to gain a homeland anywhere in the world the existing population or power that controls the desired territory must either be bought or crushed. It is the belief of this agent, on evidence of supporting documents herein enclosed that certain Zionist leaders in the media, economic community and political spheres incorporated in the whole sphere of the European theatre have conspired to exacerbate relations between the powers with the objective intention of weakening them and ultimately bringing about the collapse of the Ottoman Empire in the region of Palestine. The Balfour declaration is the fruit of this ambition.'

He lifted out the rest of the files in the box, looking for the supporting documents, but found nothing.
He frowned and tossed the folder aside. He then fumbled through the other folders spread out on the table and settled on the one marked 'Magda and Haim'.

He opened it and was surprised to see a wedding photograph of Joseph and Magda Goebbels pinned to the left hand side of the top page. He peered at it, and recognised Hitler in the background. Pinned to the top right was a yellowing photograph of a young man in round spectacles, someone he didn't recognise. He unpinned it from the page; the name pencilled on the back was Haim Arlosoroff. He was interested to read that Magda's mother had been married twice, the second time to a Jewish businessman named Richard Friedlander. Magda had taken his name, and aged 17, become friends with a Jewish refugee by the name of Lisa Arlosoroff, sister of Haim, the young man in the photograph.

Gareth sat upright, this was interesting.

Apparently Magda had an affair with Arlosoroff, she knew he was an ardent Zionist and attended meetings with him. He went to Palestine, they lost touch, he met someone else. She married the industrialist Gunther Quandt. There was a footnote: Magda's son by this marriage went on to become one of the richest men in Germany after the war; family owned Daimler-Benz and BMW. Gareth checked the wedding photo, there was a young boy with them, presumably he was the boy in question.
Gareth shook his head and puffed out in disbelief.
He read on: Magda had an affaire with the nephew of the US President Herbert Hoover, divorced Quandt and married Goebbels.

"Bloody hell, she gets around," he spoke aloud into the room.

He sipped his tea; apparently Arlosoroff was the leader of the Labour Zionists and believed that Jewish settlement in Palestine could be achieved peacefully with the co-operation of the indigenous Arabs and with the support of the British. Here he fell into conflict with the new group called the Revisionists lead by one Vladimir Jabotinsky. The Revisionists believed even more forcefully that if the Jews were to get a homeland then they would have to take it by force and they did not believe in any form of conciliation with the Arab community. There was a further note to read Appendix iii 'The Iron Wall'.

He rubbed his eyes and breathed in deeply before continuing to read.

Apparently the Zionists no longer trusted the British who they believed had reneged on the spirit of the 'Balfour Declaration'. In 1933 Arlosoroff went to Germany. Through his connections there, possibly helped with an introduction by Magda, he managed to achieve the Ha'avara program whereby German Jews could transfer some of their wealth to Palestine, via the circuitous route of purchasing German agricultural equipment, thereby facilitating Jewish immigration and settlement into Palestine.
He was interested to read that Arlosoroff was subsequently murdered, possibly because of his beliefs; the three suspects were known Revisionists believed to be acting on the orders of Jabotinsky.

Gareth discounted the alternative, that the Nazis were involved. It didn't seem likely that having just agreed a process of ridding themselves profitably of their Jewish population they would kill the author of the plan.

He reattached the photograph before closing the file.

He ferreted amongst the other folders he'd pulled out; interested by one marked 'Churchill conflict of interest' and in brackets below [family's Jewish financial backers]. He rubbed his ear, he felt this would irritate him even though he'd read somewhere about the support that Churchill received from the Jewish community in the so called wilderness years.

He read on, he wasn't prepared for what he found. Randolph Churchill had been bailed out by
Rothschild for years so the family owed a debt of honour in that direction. Apparently Winston Churchill had been an alcoholic, a gambler and had been personally bailed out by Bernard Baruch and Sir Henry Straksoh, see footnote; Strakosh had been the main source of info re German re-armament for Churchill's campaign in Parliament.

He read on, there were unsubstantiated accusations of Churchill's homosexuality. Jesus, if any of this was ever publicly known, that would make him highly susceptible to blackmail. It can't be true. How did he ever attain such high office?

A little voice in his head answered the unspoken question: if he was owned by the wealthy then that might explain a thing or two, like why he pressed for war in the first place and why he kept on fighting after Dunkirk, why he squandered Britain's wealth and sacrificed the Empire for the sake of Zion.

He cast a cursory glance at two other folders he'd taken out.

The first covered the bombing of the King David hotel, 22nd July '46, organised by Menachem Begin, leader of the Zionist group Irgun, latterly Prime Minister of Israel, in which there had been 91 deaths; 28 of them British. The second covered the attack by the Israeli air force on the USS Liberty, 8th June '67; 34 Americans had been killed and 171 injured.

He tossed these back into the box as irrelevant to his current agenda and he had more than enough for his immediate needs.

Hope you have a nice week

Cheers

Rob





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