Estulin - The Octopus Deception

THE OCTOPUS DECEPTION

Daniel Estulin

Table of Contents

The Octopus Deception

Copyright 2013 Daniel Estulin . All Rights Reserved.

Presentation Copyright 2013 Trine Day, LLC

Published by:

Trine Day LLC

PO Box 577

Walterville, OR 97489

1-800-556-2012

www.TrineDay.com

publisher@TrineDay.net

Library of Congress Control Number: 9781937584238

Estulin, Daniel

The Octopus Deception1st ed.

p. cm.

Includes index and references.

Epud (ISBN-13) 978-1-937584-24-5

Mobi (ISBN-13) 978-1-937584-25-2

Print (ISBN-13) 978-1-937584-23-8

1. Casolaro, Simone (Fictitious character) -- Fiction. 2. Asbury, Michael (Fictitious character) -- Fiction. 3. Fitzgerald, Curtis (Fictitious character) -- Fiction. 4. United States. -- Central Intelligence Agency -- Fiction.. I. Estulin, Daniel. II. Title

First Edition

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ABC Radio News. This is Carl Jameson. The World Bank has dropped a bombshell on investment markets across the globe today, warning that, despite the recovery hype Washington and Wall Street desperately want us to believe, this great economic crisis is only growing worse. The World Banks words are simple and straightforward: The global recession has deepened to levels unfathomable only six months ago. According to the World Bank, the Gross Domestic Product for the highest in-come developed countries will SHRINK 14.2% this year and global trade will plunge by a devastating 39.7%. In the World Banks own words, Unemployment is at its worst point since the Great Depression, and the total number of people living below the poverty line is set to increase to almost three billion from current estimates of seven hundred million. Meanwhile, in the U.S., the newly re-elected President is being urged by leading voices in Congress to temporarily suspend the Constitution as a result of increasing unrest across the country.

Prologue

N ight faded slowly, holding its ground. It had rained last night. The snow had started just as the clock struck midnight, as if on cue, and continued steadily and vertically ever since. The dense flakes, like ornamental lace on a veil, curtained the view of the surrounding countryside. The slow dawn of winter picked its way furtively across a copper sky, shimmering on a thin layer of snow that held stubbornly to the asphalt, caressing it gently with fading reflections. The shadows of frosted trees lay on the snow like blue plumes.

Shawnee, Oklahoma, a not unremarkable town of about 30,000, thirty miles east of Oklahoma City, is the seat of Pottawatomie County. These are Native American tribal names, in keeping with our forefathers policy of stealing the land and preserving the colorful name. Like most small but, bustling towns, Shawnee has a vital center, with outlying areas of decay. On a once-popular commercial strip, buildings now lie barren and empty, but a few gas stations, bars, convenience stores, and dilapidated motels maintain a precarious hand-to-mouth existence. Near the edge of the city limits is the Merry Kone Motel, a two-story, 28-room ghost from the 1950s, with neon-lit space-age columns framing a wood-paneled lobby.

The rooms are drab brown, timeworn; a slight mildew smell emanated from the carpets. Even industrial-strength cleaner could not entirely blot out the odor of decay.

In room 206 a thirty-something unemployed journalist had passed a fitful night. He was six feet tall, slender neck, with thick, curly hair layered at the back, his eyes an unclouded blue, with slightly protruding ears.

Danny Casolaros dreams grew in vividness and color even as sleep itself began to ebb. A few more minutes, he thought to himself. He turned over and tucked his right hand under him, listening to the soothing sounds of bubbling water somewhere in the distance. A beautiful tangerine light had filled the glassed spheres of a huge sand clock. A velvety-orange faade with a small door and a white sign opened, calling him to enter. He squinted to see the name on the brass plate. Nothing. Suddenly, he felt a growing lightness imbue his body. Restlessness dissipated and a wave of utter relaxation suffused him. Another image: 1974. He jumped a puddle running through a field, alone, beneath the magnificent clouds. Not alone. With Simone. She is holding his hand, the wind playing havoc with her flowing hair. Ouch! He stubbed his toe!

The hypodermic needle inserted just beneath the big toenail of his left foot blended quickly into his dream. Come on, were going over, Simone cried, as the two of them flew up, jumping, floating together over the rainbow. Danny, Danny! Danny took one more soaring leap into paradise.

***

The phone rang only once before Henry L. Stilton, Associate Director of the Central Intelligence Agency, looked at the display, picked it up and cradled it in his large hand.

Its done, the voice whispered, repeating the words he had spoken several dozen times over the years.

Good, replied the CIA man. Stilton was tall, gangly and immaculately dressed. His craggy face was marked with a cleft chin and bushy eyebrows. Stilton stood in the center of the room, where the only source of light was the cold rays of the moon streaking down from the night sky. Did you?

I have it. The killer squeezed the handle of an oversized, well-worn suitcase.

Bring it. The rest of the money will be transferred to you in the morning.

Merci.

Stilton hung up, then immediately called the Boss.

Chapter 1

S imone Casolaro entered the lecture hall with great lan. Ninety-five pairs of eyes watched her attentively. Ms. Casolaros Renaissance Literature class at Cornell University in Ithaca, New York, was the most popular academic option on campus, and this was day one of Winter term.

She stomped snow from her galoshes and kicked them off, revealing a pair of Roman-style sandals. Then she removed her full-length wool coat, showing off a fine Egyptian cotton dress with a low bosom and high hemline. Appreciative male murmurs rippled through the room as she eyed her troops for a few pregnant moments. Then, abruptly, she began.

You will buy Dantes Divine Comedy today and start reading it at once. Read every word. Dont skip the boring bits. There are no boring bits in Dante. Turn off the television, put your computer to sleep, take the iPod out of your ear. No twittering, texting, tooting, hooting or whatever new App youre addicted to. Dante is to be smelled, savored, tasted, chewed, and digested, like a juicy Italian sausage.

The hall erupted in laughter. Simone was an exceptional performer, with a unique flamboyant style. She felt a passion for her subject and had a knack for the provocative. More important, however, she animated her students imaginations, a gift they would carry, and many of them treasure, for the rest of their lives.

A hundred years ago, she began, Flaubert in a letter to his mistress made the following observation: What a scholar one might be if one knew well enough some half a dozen books. She swept the room with her gaze. Dantes Divine Comedy is one of those worthy to be included in any short list. Dantes allegory, however, is highly complex, and we shall examine other levels of meaning, such as the historical, moral, literal, and the anagogical. The development of the art of description throughout the centuries should be treated in terms of vision, of that prodigious eye of individual genius. She paused for effect, rising to the balls of her feet. What we call genius is an evanescent quality, gradually yielding a complex spectrum for all to see. In reading and thinking and dreaming, you should notice and absorb the details. Lets leave generalizations, well-worn clichs, popular trends and social commentary at the door.

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