About six months ago, I decided to try something I never would have thought of, back in my early days of writing that is to write a book. I put an idea together and decided to write a modern day espionage/spy thriller, but the difference in my book was that it was based on current events, and the world we see unfolding around us.
Each day I sat down to write the next phase in my book, only to find that World news had beaten me to my next phase, it became an ongoing event, my ideas for the book were being carried out on film in news around the world, before my words were written, I swore that someone was actually plagiarising my mind and converting it into a film, as I was writing it.
Writing a book is not my forte as those who follow me know; my writing is strictly short stories and Poetry. World events have outpaced my book to the extent that my book will be obsolete by the time it’s finished. The ending to my book is formulated in my mind, with intervening chapters already being filmed in the real world; each chapter in my book is already being enacted.
I will share with you the introduction and first chapter, for those with a discerning eye; you will understand the scenario of the book from the start. In this day and age, Freedom of Speech is being question at every turn, with rebuttal with words like Racism, Hatred and Bigotry being used to stifle the Freedom of Speech in the Western worlds and Europe.
I don’t think it’s worth my while finishing a book that is already obsolete, as for the ending, I leave it up to the reader to take into consideration current world events, and finish my book as to how they see it ending, for me I know the ending.
An ending that must never be written in the history of Humanity and Mankind
A Novel by Ian Felton
It was a balmy September evening as I closed my briefcase, the briefcase holding my report on the Final Cleansing Operation.
I sat down in the leather armchair in my office in Victoria Barracks Headquarters for the last time; these offices in Melbourne had been the nerve centre for many military decisions over the years. Now my contribution to the security of Australia’s existence was coming to a close, tomorrow I would hand my portfolio over to Brigadier General Brian Johnstone with an explanation of its contents. As I sat there with the evening shadows slowly tinting the high windows, I pondered back on how this all began, and how did I become involved in one of the most damning, yet remarkable movements in Australia’s recorded history.
I reflected on my past, and what may have led me to become the Australian Commissioner for the GCIC, the Global Council for Islamic Cleansing. The GCIC was formed by the UN in the early 2020s’; this came about after a tumultuous debate between the Western countries and European countries, over the global expansion of Islam. It was unanimously agreed that Islam be formally recognized as an Ideology and not a religion, an ideology that was a threat to all Western worlds and European countries.
I recall attending that historical meeting in Geneva, back in the 2020’s, and putting Australia’s viewpoint across. France was the first to speak, Commissioner Pierre Dumont spoke on the current situation in France, 90% of the country was of Islamic background with 60% of the country under Sharia law, Germany spoke next with Commissioner Elias Krause speaking, he quoted, statistics of Islamic supremacy rising, following Germany were the Nordic countries, all detailing the same situation, a situation that was compounded by civil unrest and legal disputes that were closing down many courts of Law. Court cases debating Sharia law as opposed to the law of the country were blockading the country, changes being made where Sharia law is implemented in conjunction with Civil law. That was the momentous occasion when all global Western and European countries signed the declaration, That was the time that all Western and European countries formally recognized that Islam was not a Religion but an Ideology, when they signed this declaration, We, the signatories to this declaration, recognize, and are in accord with the belief that all Muslims are born under the Sharia law, an Islamic Ideology. Muslims, who stray from the Islamic Ideology, become Apostates or Infidels. The Islamic Ideology is contrary to the Western and European countries way of life, their Beliefs and Culture. The peoples of the Western and European Worlds find the Ideology of Islamic Beliefs to be a Credible Threat to all countries. But I digress, how did I get involved in this global phenomenon?
I reflected on my past, and tried to pinpoint something that led me to my current position, something, or some incident that gave rise to my playing a role in Australia’s future, a couple of failed marriages, doesn’t exactly offer proof of stability or commitment, twenty years in the army, not extraordinary in itself I thought, the only experience of military importance would have been my time serving with the AATTV, Australian Army Training Team in Vietnam. An elite band of soldiers, who worked with the South Vietnamese army and the RFDF, Regional forces defence forces. During my time with the Team I became aware of the American covert programme The Phoenix, I do recall the programme playing a part in the role of the Teams overall statement of objectives, seems my Phoenix was once again, going to rise from the ashes. I completed my tour of duty and returned to Australia, where I continued to work for the army for twenty years, rising to the rank of Warrant Officer Class 2, with a Security clearance of Top Secret.
It was just before knock off time, that Friday afternoon at Lavarack Barracks Townsville, when I was told to present myself to the Commanding Officer, a hesitant knock was answered by a bellow, and the roar of the word enter
At ease Warrant Officer, be seated, an offer shaking legs eagerly accepted. Colonel James Alston was a middle aged soldier, slight receding hairline, large piercing eyes and a belly telling tales of many happy hours in the Officers mess.
Do you know why you are here Sergeant Major? He stated, as he penetrated my eyes with a glare that only officers carry,
No Sir I replied with trepidation,
You will have your written request for discharge on my desk, by Monday morning, which will be approved,
Why Sir I asked, amazed and confused, it is not normal procedure to order someone to elect discharge,
Your services are required higher up he stated, you will not be able to carry out your future role whilst in the military,
I remained silent and let the Colonel finish, what he was telling me was obviously going to change my future.
Cooper, addressing me by my surname, as of Monday morning you will be working for Brigadier General Brian Johnstone, at Victoria Barracks,
But what bought this about Sir I asked, your record has been scanned and your military records qualify you for the job he stated, by the abrupt response I knew the interview was over.
You may go Cooper, but one word of advice for the future, don’t trust anyone, the Brigadiers office is Top Secret, and you will see and learn a lot.
I rose and saluted, but was taken back when he walked around the table, ignored my salute and shook my hand.
You work for Australia now, not just the army.
Good luck he said in a quiet tone, you have a formidable job ahead of you, and remember, don’t trust anyone.
I left his office with apprehension; my military life was over, my future uncertain.
I returned to my office, to finalise all the details of my current projects that were outstanding, I needed to clear my computer and forward all emails to the Administration officer. One email had come in as I was in briefing with the Commanding Officer, The sender was someone I had never received an email from before, namely the Federal Parliamentary Secretaries office Canberra.
I opened and read, Mister Maxwell Cooper Sir, you are to present yourself at the offices of the Federal Parliament Canberra at precisely 9.30 Monday morning, for debriefing in regards to your future assignment, it was signed Gerald Templeton, Parliamentary Secretary.
I closed down the computer and left my office for the last time, my next port of call was the Transit office, to organise movement details and accommodation, both to coincide with the appointment on Monday, Brigadier Johnstone’s appointment now not considered a priority in my mind.
Ah Mister Cooper, Sergeant Webster announced as I entered the transit office, word had already got around, Webster saw no need to address me as Sir, I’ve come to organise some transit details I outlined, Webster picked up a large envelope from his desk and handed it to me, all your travel documents and itinerary details are in there, also you airline tickets, I was about to interrupt, when he stated that all was in order for my appointment at 9.30 Monday, he didn’t state what appointment and I thought it better not to elaborate, I didn’t know how much he was privy to.
The weekend was chaotic in my mind, packing my belongings that I would need, and packing belongings to be forwarded for storage. Saturday night was normally a busy night in the Officers Mess, but tonight all seemed quiet, apart from a handful of Live in Officer playing cards, most of the Officers lived off base, and usually called in to round of the evening, but tonight all seemed unusually quiet. George the young Corporal barman had already poured my light beer.
I wandered over to the card table and watched a few hands being played; Tony glanced up at me, I hear you’re being posted Max, we all wish you the best old mate, maybe next time you will keep your nose clean he laughed, Phil butted in, and made it clear that they all seriously did wish me well for the future. I strolled back to the bar and had one more beer. The beer was starting to relax and calm my thinking. My fellow Officers remarks were unusual, not unfriendly but unusual. It suddenly dawned on me as to the change of attitude, much like the Transit Sergeants attitude, it appears the word had gone around, that I was being posted due to some military misdemeanour. If that was the way the game was beginning to pan out, then so be it, I decided to let that be the reason for my sudden departure.
The flight from Townsville touched down at precisely 8.20 that Monday morning, I was met by a typical wet drizzling Canberra rain, and a Commonwealth car driver at reception. I needed a shave and a change of clothes, but more importantly, I needed a decent cup of coffee, it being only a ten minute drive to Parliament house, I decided to freshen up there and have a quick cup of coffee at the Queen’s Terrace Cafe at Parliament House.
The coffee kicked in, and I started to feel back in control of my situation, the last weekend had drained me out, the pressure of change had begun to overwhelm me, I was physically and mentally drained.
Precisely at 9.30, I knocked on the Parliamentary Secretary’s door; the door was opened by a gentleman who must have reached the age of 35, Mister Cooper, please take a seat, as he extended his hand, I’m Gerald Templeton.
I realise the last few days have been quite a change for you Max, may I call you Max he asked.
Certainly I replied, now can we cut to the chase, and tell me why I am here, and why my Army career is over.
I was not in the mood for small talk; the plane flight had been long and tiring.
Your military career has closed Max, on a commendable recommendation and referral I might add.
As of this moment you are now an employee of the Australian Diplomatic Corp, he pushed some papers across the desk.
This is your appointment as Third Secretary, to the Consulate General for Australia, in Washington DC.
You will notice your appointment is signed by the Prime Minister Steven Woodville himself.
Just exactly what does this appointment mean, and how am I involved in this entire Government Diplomatic world, I asked.
Templeton could see I was not only tired but confused over the whole issue.
Relax Max; I will explain it all he began, as he leaned back in his thick leather chair.
Your past military career has been monitored closely, you were chosen many years ago for an important Government programme, a programme headed by a Brigadier Brian Johnstone.
You are now a part of that programme Max, your boss is the Brigadier,
And when do I get to meet my new boss, I interrupted,
Not for a few years yet, you are still under training, and it will begin with your assignment to Washington DC.
And now in the darkening office of Victoria Barracks, I took my briefcase from the desk, a final glance around to make sure I had everything, my eyes rested on the photograph of the King, amazing I thought, the Monarchy still reigns, through all the tumultuous events of many centuries but will it survive any longer.
I closed the door for the last time and stepped out into a Melbourne drizzle, felt the comforting bulge of the 38 nestled against my armpit, Max Cooper, aged 85, the Australian Commissioner for The Global Council for Islamic Cleansing., and still wearing a shoulder holster.
My last meeting for the day, before handing my portfolio over to the Brigadier, was with my Secretary Margaret.
Margaret was an elderly lady, somewhere in her early seventies and had the aura of being in the barracks since the construction days; I don’t know who Margaret worked for, ASIO or the Federal police, or even the American CIA. Margaret and I were the only two to know the contents of my portfolio; we had worked on it for over six months now.
I knew Margaret was cleared to well above Top Secret but I needed to reaffirm the portfolios secrecy, more for my own peace of mind than hers, there were now twelve members of the Federal Parliament, who had signed the oath of allegiance on the Quran, any leak of my portfolio to the Islamic world could jeopardize the future structure of Australia’s stability.
The rain continued to drizzle the footpaths making little rivulets in the gutter, as Commissioner Max Cooper made his way to a dimly lit bar in Swanston street, a heavy weight on his conscience, as he realized that tomorrow, the contents of his briefcase will no longer be his, but belong to the future of Australia.
My meeting with Margaret was short but brief, as arranged; I met her in the Bodega wine bar of the old Heritage hotel, The Garston. Margaret was not short in coming to the point.
Max, rest assured the Cleansing portfolio is safe, no one knows its contents except you and me, and tomorrow the Brigadier she added.
I have no doubts Margaret, it is secure, but with the leaks coming out of Federal parliament I am worried, and more so with those Parliamentary members who have sworn an oath of allegiance on the Quran in Federal Parliament.
Calm down Max, your letting the Cleansing programme overwhelm you, she replied.
I nodded in agreement, okay I said, I may be, but Margaret, assure me, you will notify me of any hints of any leaks from our department.
She placed her hand over mine, Max, we are Top Secret, our department is maintaining security, as for your parliamentary Quran members, rest assured Max, our operatives have them under twenty four hours surveillance.
Margaret had that endearing quality, much like a grandmother reassuring a small child.
It was time to change the subject, I ordered another Mateus Rose, it was Margaret’s preferred red wine, I settled for a light beer.
So Margaret, how long have you known the Brigadier? I asked, endeavouring to make small talk, I knew never to discuss personal lives’, that was definitely a no go area in our profession.
Well over forty years now Max, we met on an assignment in Indonesia way back many years ago now, he’s become a part of my life now, much like an old grandfather, he has a lighter side but does have his grumpy moments she laughed.
I watched her laugh spread to a smile, and for a brief moment, caught a glimpse of the beautiful young girl she must have once been.
On a serious note Max, the Brigadier asked me to fill you in on some events that are underway at the moment.
Go on I said, by now I knew not to interrupt when being advised.
For a start Max, it will be your last meeting with the Brigadier at Victoria Barracks next week, the week after the Brigadier gets your Cleansing portfolio, and the whole GCIC department is relocating to Canberra.
I could see that my life was beginning to have more twists and turns than a magician’s hand.
Go on Margaret, I don’t think you can surprise me anymore.
Do you know anything about Campbell Offices? She asked
Vaguely, I know its Canberra’s equivalent to Victoria Barracks.
More important than Victoria Barracks Max, its Australia’s military Heart; everything that occurs in Australia must have that Offices approval.
I didn’t want to interject or interrupt her conversation thread, so I politely nodded my head.
Campbell Offices comprises seven story’s Max, all linked by what is called Nodes or staircases, there are four Nodes, B,C,D and E, however there is another area on the Northern end of the offices, this area can only be accessed via Node E, this area is known as Node A.
Slow down Margaret, my mind is going into overload I said.
Don’t worry the Brigadier will fill you in on all the details, she smiled.
Now for the record Max, Node A at the northern end was never completed, for public information this was due to the discovery of instabilities in the earth, which caused the plans to be shelved, that’s the media version.
The northern end of Campbell offices is open for business, I assure you Max, open and accessible via Node A stairway, and is the new home of Australia’s International Council for Islamic Cleansing.
To close the conversation she rose and extended her hand, thank you for the wine Max, your good company, the Brigadier will give you further details after your next meeting, don’t be surprised in what you learn Max, she quietly said, as she moved towards the door.
I sat down and tried to take in all she had said, I glanced at the door as it closed behind her, it was then I noticed the two men at the bar finish their drinks and head for the door, I hadn’t taken any notice of them when I had entered the bar.
I walked across to the window and glanced down the street, the two men were walking a few feet behind Margaret, I watched as a Commonwealth car pulled into the kerb and one of the men opened the door, Margaret got in and the car pulled out into the heavy late Swanston street traffic, the two men turned into the alleyway next to the hotel and were gone.
The drizzle had turned into rain, and the evening lights danced on the raindrops as they littered the footpath.
The Phoenix has definitely risen from the ashes and The Cleansing Programme had begun.
Monday was the meeting with the Brigadier; I needed to completely relax this weekend, a quiet weekend trout fishing the waters of the Acheron was my intention.
I returned to the table and nursed the remains of my light beer, I suddenly had lost the need for the beer, or the closeness of the bar, too many things were running through my mind, words were beginning to haunt me, they seemed to keep echoing in my mind, Watch your back, Be aware of your environment, words from my early military days, and finally Colonel Alston’s words, Don’t trust anyone.
I stepped out into the pouring rain, no umbrella, but that fact didn’t bother my preoccupied mind.
I hailed a cab, and had a one way conversation with an Indian driver; I kept looking at him in the rear view mirror, Islam, Muslim, Islam, echoing through my mind.
I was dropped off at my humble abode in Coburg north, a place I had called home for many years now, the only legacy from my ancient parents, a legacy carved through the Second World War and depression years.
I took off my shoes and lay on the mattress, ignoring the forty winks spring that seemed to have found an escape hole.
I started to doze and fell asleep with translucent images of a cool mountain stream with the morning mist rising off the meadows.
To Be Continued