Paradise Found

Paradise Found by Robert Eversfield

Marlborough

R E M Francis 2010

Paradise Found

First volume of Pongbourne dialogues.

Copyright © 2010 by Robert Eversfield Manley Francis

Published by

R.E.M.Francis & Co [email protected] http://www.remfrancis.co.uk 2

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Dedicated to the memory of people murdered by the crooks behind the Great Money Scam, which provides the contention of this work. Although this novel is a work of fiction, nothing should be construed as being true, it is dedicated to voicing their dialogue. You might find their true views by accessing some of the Google Tags in italics. All else you read here is pure fantasy, and entirely fictional imagineering.

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For the love of money is the root of all evil: which while some coveted after, they have erred from faith, and pierced themselves through with many sorrows. Timothy 6:10

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Dream of flying We mostly take our world for granted, even when we feel ourselves to be a complete stranger to it, and that is the nub of my theme. I shall start at the beginning of my story, when I was staying in my old family home, which my mother had to sell shortly after the War, before I had any say in the matter. Recent owners had converted our old manor house into a comfortable guesthouse, and doctors and friends thought a return to my old roots might speed my recovery. The truth was I had lost my memory, losing all that I had taken for granted. Although my rooms were very much to my liking, where I could rest in peace, the old place was only vaguely familiar, in the sense that I wanted to remain there. Pongbourne manor is the kind of place many people would wish take for granted, and stay for a very long time. I slept very well the first few days of my stay, and did not have the dreadful nightmares I had since my accident. These were not considered bad in themselves, and even regarded as part of the recovery process, but were not bringing back my memories. This problem had reached a point where my physical recovery was beginning to suffer, and why friends kindly suggested I spend some time back at my old home, a place I had loved so much as a child. Pongbourne was also where I would be under the medical care of an old childhood doctor friend of mine.

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My story starts on my tenth night, when the rain had been pelting down most of the afternoon and evening. I had retired early, and had fallen asleep during a thunder storm. That was quite easy. Storms may come and go in old stone manor houses, because thick walls rarely disturb sleepers to the extent they do to people living in modern little brick boxes of the present day. The Manor House was surrounded by an estate of such houses, and I did not envy these people, as I retired to my comfortable bed. This time my nightmare was not about trying to control a motor car, but an aeroplane, and this aircraft was very heavy. I could hear the roar of many engines, as I was frantically pulling back on the stick. I could hear voices telling me what to do. It was no use, I thought, we were going to crash. Then a commanding voice said, 'Push it forward, then back!' which I instantly did. The engines almost immediately told me we were out of danger, and the plane was beginning to establish level flight. Shortly after that, I could see the sea below, and wondered, ‘How on earth do I manage to land this thing?’ and woke up suddenly, in a somewhat excited state. I sat up, putting my feet on the floor, and thought through the dream. The storm had passed, and it was now all peaceful and quiet. This nightmare greatly puzzled me, because I had never flown an aircraft in my life. What could this dream mean? It was so real. When would these bad dreams end? 6

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By then, I needed to freshen up, and put the bad dream behind me, so I made my sleepy way to find the bathroom, stumbling into the mirror that barred my way, cordoning off the domestic part of the house, from my own wing. Nothing happened! I appeared to go right through it. 'Surely, I must be still dreaming,’ I thought, and carried on walking, becoming more surprised how much I knew my way around this part of the house. This gave me some comfort. My memories were coming back to me, if only in sleep. By the time I finished in the bathroom, everything had became more real and familiar. When I came back along the corridor, I saw no signs of the mirror that should have barred my way. This was most odd how things had changed. Then I took a quick look out of the window by my bedroom door. Again, I found a much different view from the one I had seen only a few hours before. The moonlit scene was almost the same rural view I remembered as a child. I thoughtfully returned to my bed, immediately falling into a deep comforting sleep.

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A different world I woke very refreshed the following Saturday morning, and my bedroom was even more delightfully quiet than the day before. I took a quick peep through the curtains. The sun was shining on a clear day, and in the centre of my view was a large cedar tree, with many oaks in a meadow behind. However, I failed to see the estate of little box houses of the day before: They had all vanished. I wondered where all the people would be, and drew the curtains a little further, to study my bedroom more closely. It soon became obvious to me that my room was not as it was the day before. One of the doors, that was blocked up yesterday, was now in use. I guessed it probably led to an adjoining dressing room, and took a peep. I was already beginning to think of a world I had known the day before, and the world I could see that day. Was I dreaming? Have I gone mad? Is this insanity? I returned to bed, still thinking I might still be asleep. I was dozing off, when somebody knocked gently on my bedroom door. I replied very simply, 'Come!' and as the door opened a little, a voice said, ‘Lady Agnes says the Doctor will call around eight, and I am to bring your breakfast after she leaves. Would that be all right Sir?’ peeping in the door slightly, and I quickly replied, ‘That would be most agreeable!’ and my visitor was gone in a flash.

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Strangely, I had no means of knowing the time: My watch was no longer by my bed, but judged it must be almost eight. I could not help wondering whether my doctor would be my friend Mary, now retired, living in Pongbourne village, who had looked after me the previous week. We had lost contact, when mother had to sell up, and Mary had remained at Pongbourne village, where her father was the local doctor. Mary eventually had her own medical career to attend to, greatly contrasting with my own jumble of various jobs, which had made up my otherwise interesting life. I did not have long to wait for her knock on my door. When Mary entered, she was certainly the same Mary I had known, but looked different in many ways I could not make out at first. ‘Your sister said you had been up in the night,’ she said, taking a closer look at me. ‘Yes, I had a bad dream, and needed to freshen up, and break the spell. The storm had passed, and I went back to bed, and slept very well after that.’ ‘That is a relief!’ We then eyed each other more thoroughly. It was very clear to me that she could see I was not entirely the same person she had seen the day before. I could see many differences in her. She was definitely the same Mary I had known, only she was more relaxed, less worn, definitely more at home, and certainly more confident in her manner with me. Mary had always been uncertain 9

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of herself with my family. Now she was certain of me. This was a good start. ‘How is your memory Frank?’ ‘I appear to have it back, but not the memory of this world, the world in which I now find myself. My memory is of another world.’ Mary did not batter an eyelid, and took my pulse, in a businesslike way, which gave her time to think what to say, then gave me another good look, and said, ‘You certainly look a different person. It is difficult saying what, but you look more out of this world, alienated even, not quite at home in your usual way. There are also lines on your face, that were not there yesterday. At least your having a memory is an improvement. Tell me about your bad dream.’ ‘I was flying a large aircraft, which was in difficulties and about to crash. I avoided crashing by pushing the stick forward, then pulling it back. The plane leveled off for a time, and I woke up worrying how to get it down over water.’ ‘It was a flying boat then?’ ‘Yes, Mary’ ‘This might make sense of your crash. It would appear that somebody had tampered with your steering wheel. You avoided a worse crash by suddenly turning the wheel one way, then the other, unlocking it, avoiding a head on collision, but you went over a bank, virtually flying your vehicle through the air, until you landed with a 10

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nasty bump. It is not surprising you would lose your memory.’ ‘Except Mary, I am now back with memories of a different world, and it is quite possible that I crashed differently in that one,’ I said mystified, only half comprehending what I was saying. ‘Yes,’ said Mary, in her mock pompous way, when she was not quite sure what to make of me. ‘We have much to discuss, and I think it would be a good idea if you do not mention any of this to your family. Carry on as if you have still lost your memory: letting everybody assume you are recovering naturally.’ I thought over what she said in silence. ‘Now have a good breakfast, when I leave, then attend to your papers downstairs in your study, then get out and about. Let others tell you what you need to know. I shall tell everybody that you are quite fine, but for a slight problem with your memory. You have every reason to forget many things, after the great shock of losing your wife. Everybody knows how much you loved and depended on Jane.’ I nodded, puzzled at the mention of Jane. ‘Who knocked at my door first thing?’ ‘That was Colin. He has been your personal servant ever since you were married, and has been deeply concerned about you: Ask him everything you need to know.’ I nodded, whilst she took charge. ‘We shall talk later, when I would like to hear more about your changes of reality experience. You should take everything for 11

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granted, let others do the same, and that is what I shall tell everybody downstairs. We shall have to work out your differences of memory later,’ and Mary quickly left, still greatly puzzled.

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Breakfast with The Times I was just dozing off again, when I heard a sound in my dressing room, and rose to see who was busy putting out my breakfast things. I opened the door to my dressing room, and entered. Colin looked up from what he was doing, anticipating my memory problem, said, ‘Colin, Sir!’ pronouncing it with a slight colonial accent, suggesting North America, of mixed ethnicity, possibly Red Indian. ‘How long have we been together Colin,’ I asked, in an equally matter of fact sort of way. He looked down to think, and replied, ‘Since you came down Sir, and published your first book on rackets. Your grandfather thought it a good idea to encourage you further. You had met your wife by then, and she was already helping you with your writing. The two of us went together,’ pausing, ‘so your grandfather said. He was very proud of you; how you had managed to get so far, after so much hard work. I was his idea of giving you a very extra reward,’ adding finally, after another pause, ‘As for me, he told me he was determined to rescue me from the Whig Republic, and your grandfather was never an easy man to refuse.’ ‘You are quite happy here, and we do get on?’ I asked, still thinking of my previous world, and attitudes to people who employ servants.

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‘Yes Sir, we have done very well. As your dear wife use to say, it has been the most perfect partnership; all harmony.’ At that point, Colin changed gear, ‘Lady Agnes insists I run your bath, directly you have finished breakfast, and I must put out a complete change of linen,’ looking at me with a smile and conspiratorial air. ‘Make it so Colin! Assure my dear sister that I agree with her orders.’ We both chuckled, as he left the room, leaving me to contemplate my breakfast. Colin had placed The Times there, and I was pleasantly surprised to discover that it was still a large substantial newspaper, and had classified ads on the outer pages. It was relief to find that there had been no Lord Thompson changes to this newspaper in this world. I immediately turned it inside out, with an old familiar flourish, and made a start in reading the Editorials, a habit I deeply regret having lost many years ago. I decided that reading The Times each day, would be one way I would get used to my new world order, as I had done previously in my old. The first Editorial dealt with assassinations, and apparently, there had been enough of them to alarm even the British public. The Editorial was well balanced, in an objectively moral kind of way, but without cant. It was not politically correct in any ideological sense, which was another relief. This Editorial raised issues how Parliament was going to deal with this difficult assassination 14

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problem, mentioning their main article of the day. A Tory government was calling for extreme measures, whilst the Whigs were much more cautious. It became obvious that the Editor was Whig, and mentioned a new House of Lords Select Committee on Assassinations, and a Frankist Study Group. My immediate inference was that Frankist and Socialist were connected, and this brought back memories of what I had been studying, only a week or so before my accident, which to my great surprise, I could remember. The second Editorial dealt with what they called the dangers of “Social Atomisation,” called the “Individualism of the Old Order.” I could not entirely follow what was said, but it was mainly an attack on building too many separate houses on much needed farm land. This rang a few bells. This editorial was really an appeal to keep to the present very sensible policy of keeping society together, where individuals could evolve within a community. They were opposed to following old patterns, which never worked in the Old Order, in the high opinion of the Editor. This appeared to be a pompous way of criticising Tory Jerry builders and speculators, who wished to build housing for profit on good land. The last Editorial was very much in a biting satirical vein, poking fun at people who would like to return to what they called the “the old order of usury capitalism.” This Editorial was not sparing the sensibilities of those who wanted to return to the Old Order, and offered to invent money out of 15

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nothing, of any amount that the reader cared to demand, providing lenders paid yearly interest on the amount they required. Lenders would also have to put down sufficient solid security to cover the amount of the loan, and pay off the money, within a defined time, or take out another loan. Making this offer, was conditional upon everybody asking their MP to pass a Bill through Parliament, reversing the Usury Laws, and giving The Times sole right to issue money out of nothing. “Furthermore we would be prepared to drop the need for security in the case of lending to governments. The income of the nation would be sufficient security to cover all money issued by us, by reintroducing income tax, provided that Parliament prevents the Treasury issuing money of its own, or by borrowing from the banks. We would strongly object to anybody else inventing money out of nothing, which would kill our infant usury business stone dead.” They then rammed home the final sting, “This is not to forget our need to conceal the excessive profits, which we would be able to receive from having this last remaining cartel monopoly. However, by giving us this national cartel monopoly over the issuance of money, we would require Parliament to bring back the old highly complex obfuscating Finance Acts, and 16

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prevent the tax paying public from discovering how they were being cheated.” I put the paper down, and addressed my breakfast: This Editorial was heady stuff, and I had to think it out over a good breakfast. It was obvious to me that this biting Editorial had been attacking the present Tory government, against introducing measures, which The Times opposed. Looking down from my breakfast room window, I could see all the work of the estate, and a lady walking her dog. My attention was also caught by the meadow beyond, where horses were warming up for the day. It looked like I was still fond of horses, and my beloved Pongbourne bred them again. As this lady turned, and walked back towards the house, she looked up and we made eye contact. We instantly recognised each other. She was my sister Agnes, although she appeared more matronly, and more relaxed than when I saw her only few weeks ago. Now she had no hardened business woman look about her, and I remembered how her male colleagues had called her Mother in one organisation she had run, very successfull. All the same, Agnes still had a bossy elder sister look about her, which I knew so well as a child, and was most probably checking up on me. I tucked in, and thoroughly enjoyed every morsel of my breakfast. It was like old times. I might have only memories of another world, but I was becoming much more at home in this one. 17

Family meetings After breakfast, I did exactly what my sister had commanded, and had a good bath, a change of fresh linen, and felt thoroughly relaxed after it all. It was also pleasant to discover that I had a very good tailor in this world, even for my summer wear. Although the month was August, Colin told me that the weather was not very warm, and offered suitable wear for that day. It would always be fine by me what he put out, because I was quite hopeless about clothes. Leaving the matter to experts sounded a very good idea. At last, at the age of 65, I would be properly dressed. Colin had also drawn the curtains, so he could open the windows wide, made my bed, and made my room tidy, before rushing off to arrange other things. I was in good capable hands. Before leaving my rooms, I took a very good look out of the main bedroom window, taking in what I was going to have to accept about my new world. It was fine sight, and felt fortified by it. Then after a few more thoughtful moments, I made my way down stairs to face the world. I found that Agnes was on the phone, as I passed through the hall, and she waved a mock kiss at me, calling out, ‘Many Happy Returns Francis!’ I briefly nodded back, displaying my correct change of clothes, and went into the study. Our main study had been my grandfather's, before he died, and my mother's, before she had to sell the

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property. It only occurred to me at that moment how it was now mine. So after closing the door, I took a good look round. This study room would provide many clues to understanding my new life, which had changed very little. It was like stepping back into my past. Colin had placed The Times on a small table, by a comfortable wing chair. I was apparently the same creature of dull habits, and finished my daily read here in my study. My desk had a pile of letters waiting for me to open. There were birthday cards all over the place. Also upon the desk, were two photograph frames, which were face down. Examining these would be my first clues to finding out about myself. I lifted one, and took a good look. It was of me, many years ago, with a delightful girl by my side, who had a glint of humour in her eyes, and was enjoying every minute. I put the frame back on the desk standing upright. I lifted the other frame. This was of three people, this time with the same girl, but taken years later. The other two in the picture were obviously her children, a boy and a girl. They both had the same innocent glint of humour in their eyes, and they all appeared to be enjoying every moment. It was a real delightful picture, a real conversation piece, and I put that back upright on the desk. I then sat down at my desk, and took a good look round. By my side were bookcases, and I could see a number of books in easy prominent positions, all by Frank Roberts. I looked at the titles, and found that many were titles of subjects 19

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I would like to write myself. I found the book on rackets, called Rackets People Run, which Colin had mentioned. This was published in 1964, which was in reply to Games People Play by Eric Berne. I then looked for Berne's book, and found that he published his book in 1959, and remembered that this was some five years earlier than he published his famous book in my own world. Something had happened to allow Berne to write his book five years earlier. This was the beginning of my clue building in comparing two worlds. At that moment, Agnes came into the room, to remind me that I had an appointment with Dawes to go up to Abbey to meet some Colleger people at 10.30. I did not ask her who Dawes was, assuming he was staff, and might conduct this business for me. She also told me that lunch would be prompt today, and would I give the library a miss this afternoon, because she had a Tory hen party, and I might drop my usual Whig clangers, enjoying a sisterly dig at our obvious political differences. Percy wanted her to talk to some local Pongs into supporting the Party. Assuming I should know what she was talking about, I nodded neutral assent, as if I had been quite used to her taking over the political life of Pongbourne. She then added that Jill might be a little late today, to help with my mail. After Agnes left, I sat back in my chair again, thinking over how Agnes had acquired a much fuller and stately manner in this world. She was obviously married. She had nearly married 20

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Percy Talbot in my previous world, whom she had known since childhood. Percy decided to marry somebody else at the last minute, and Agnes had become somewhat bitter, blaming his change of heart upon our reduced circumstances. She never really considered marriage after that, because men tended to be put off of by her somewhat abrupt and bossy manner. Instead, she went into a number of organisations, running them like an estate she might have had. Obviously, Agnes had found fulfillment in being married to Percy, even though we had found Percy a bit of a fool as children. He suited her. She was still the same bossy sister, but had acquired an element of self-mockery here, and able to accept her own faults. Agnes certainly had no reason to feel bitter. Percy was no doubt a bit of a handful, but she could manage him. Agnes was always completely at home in the world of country estates, like so many other ladies of strong character. Foolish husbands were only a part of what they had to manage. Knowing that my sister was at home, made me feel all the more at home, despite the fact I had such an awesome amount of information to find out. I was still lost in thought, when Jill stepped into the room, and could see who she was from her photograph before me. She took the scene in immediately, and quickly came over to me, giving me a quick kiss on the top of my head, and picking up my mail. ‘But you have not opened any of this.’ 21

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‘But your aunt said you would be late,’ I replied, not knowing what tone to adopt to a daughter I had never met before. ‘Thinking!’ she replied, with a humorous emphasis, accepting her statement as explaining everything, and started to open my mail. ‘You and Dawes have an appointment with the Society of Collegers in half an hour, so we had best run through this lot quickly.’ ‘Is it that late?’ I replied. She smiled back at me with the same glint in her eyes I could see in her photograph. I was to find out later that Jill always had a cheerful and delightful charitable sense of humour, and it was with everybody. We quickly went through my mail, and most of it was disposed of quickly. Jill had been running this side of things since the loss of her mother. I later discovered that Agnes had come down to manage the house around about the same time. Dawes managed the estate, without much need of supervision, because running the estate worked like clockwork. Jill told me that one letter was important, in confirming I had an early morning appointment with a Detective Inspector Prasad of Scotland Yard on Monday, at my London residence at Pongbourne House. On hearing this, I was so pleased to find out that we had not sold Pongo. I had thoroughly enjoyed my childhood run of our London residence, before my mother had to sell that as well, when it had been sold to a firm, who 22

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turned it into offices, and car showrooms. I could never go near the place after that. The thought of destroying so many childhood memories was too much for me. Jill interrupted my thoughts, ‘Monday afternoon, you also have an appointment with your old Cambridge Hebrew tutor, Prof, now Lord, Solomon Bekov,’ then adding, ‘I wonder what that old Sol wants,’ looking at me inquisitively, and I looking back blankly. ‘I understand,’ she said slowly, rising, with my bundle of letters, ‘that after Matins on Sunday, you are going up to London with your ever loyal Dr. Watson, dear Aunt Mary.’ I did a vague nod, and rose too. It was all new to me, but I had to give the impression I was the same person, and had no desire to spoil Jill's illusions. Mary had insisted on that. As Jill was leaving, her eye caught something by my wing chair, ‘I see the light is flashing. Your carriage is waiting Daddy, and you had best not keep the old boys waiting up at the Abbey,’ and as she made for the door, I quickly followed her, hoping that I would not have to ask her where my carriage would be waiting.

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Meeting at the Abbey Jill led me directly to where Dawes was waiting, beside an open carriage. He nodded respectively ‘Miss Jill!’ and then ‘Sir!’ to me, and I nodded back, stepping up into the carriage, and sitting down. Dawes followed me in. I felt brave enough to say, ‘Thank you Dawes!’ and he said to the driver, ‘All right Jinx, off to the Abbey!’ and off we went. ‘We are meeting the Collegers at around eleven, Sir, and I explained to them that we should be with them for about an hour at the most. They know most of your objections, and appear most agreeable to meet you on those points. I shall take the lead Sir, if you like?’ he asked, turning round to look at me more squarely. ‘Fine! Fine!’ I replied staring straight ahead, nervously sitting back in my seat, as the carriage moved forward. It was only when I started to take in this view of my new world, that I noticed that there was very little noise, and the air was like wine, although there was a slight breeze, which was pleasant and soft. Everywhere looked washed after the rain of the day before, and the road was even more so, and had the look of being washed over countless decades, and I wondered why everywhere was so clean. The air smelt so pure, so much so that I could breathe deeply, without usual feelings of unpleasantness, which I had not known since my early childhood in Powys, where

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the air was always so much cleaner than the rest of the country. Since then, I had found only Shaftesbury had air like this. I was soon to find out why this was so. About a mile or so out, we should have passed under a recently built motorway, which was one of those ghastly costly ravishes of the beautiful English countryside my generation had come to accept as progress. The railways had been bad enough, a century or so before, but they had caused only the minimum of pollution. Having begun destroying our system of railways, we then started to build these monstrosities all over the place, taking air and noise pollution into places where no pollution had gone before. I was glad to find out that no motorway crossed my property, on my first day. When we entered the Abbey grounds, I could see some kind of omnibus vehicle, with elderly people slowly emerging from it, talking earnestly amongst themselves. I gestured to Dawes to go over to greet them, leaving me to follow him more discreetly. ‘I shall leave you to cover the ground, and come in later, when some loose ends might need my voice,’ I said, hoping I was covering myself. I had no idea what they were doing here, and had no idea how to find out. Asking Dawes directly might have given the whole game away. I thought it was possible that this appointment had been made by me, even recently, so I could not fall back on excuses of amnesia. 25

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Dawes went over to them, and instantly engaged them in conversation, leading them off to see more of the ruin. I followed at a discreet distance, taking in the state of the property, and drawing upon my memory. I remembered the history of our estate, and how our first John Roberts had bought the Abbey in the sixteenth century. Thomas Cromwell had even slept at Pongbourne, and they had some distant relationship, so a deal had been be made between them. My ancestor took over the whole estate of the Abbey, and Cromwell went off with the lead from the roofs, and treasures from the Abbey. At this time, there were not many choir monks in residence, and so it was an easy matter of employing the lay staff. Some of these lay staff had descendants working for my family, at the time my mother had to sell up. I then remember we had employed a man named Dawes, who must have been the father or grandfather of Dawes. It was very difficult telling the age of Dawes. He had an ageless, oak-like frame. It was true to say that the Pongbourne Abbey Estate was as much his property, as it was mine, because we served the same living. I then remembered that the Abbey was in dispute with the people of Pongbourne and Pongbridge in the fifteenth century. The latrines had been the cause of the problem. Some claimed this to be why the river bore the name Pong, and there were other niggling matters, which my ancestor knew all about. Jack Robert’s family 26

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came from Wales with the Tudors, who were not too fussy how they acquired their wealth. Land was land, and this Abbey land was good soil. Jack was a younger son, and had befriended Thomas Cromwell at a convenient time. He was soon to befriend others, before Thomas Cromwell fell, and Jack managed to survive into the next reign, of Elizabeth. Pongbourne then became the base upon which his descendants made their fortune, and bought more land. It made a good living, as they say. Our stock tended to be solid, and they certainly did not dawdle. We plodded through English history, without too much fuss, providing the main backbone of the nation. That was until the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. The Pongbourne Roberts were never able to work out what happened to them after that. English History gradually appeared to conspire against them, and I inherited this conspiracy theory in my blood. After about twenty minutes, I could see that Dawes was coming close to needing assistance, and could hear him describing the sort of college that was agreed at Pongbourne. It was time for me to step in, although I would not say too much. History was my best resort, and so I stepped in amongst them, and said, ‘Gentleman, as you may know, the first thing you will have to attend to is the services. We do not want you starting off on the wrong foot with the local community, although foot is not exactly the right word.’ 27

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This caused a slight chuckle, not being the height of wit, but expressed a pleasant sense of humour on my part. Dawes beamed, having dealt with this issue in some depth, and was relieved that I raised this as my first priority. They would have to consider how to put in proper drains, before they could even start thinking of building their college. One venerable looking gentleman then raised the issue of my family being willing to bind over the Abbey site to their care. This was a lucky question, because I knew we were bound never to sell the Abbey, without the lawful consent of Parliament and Sovereign. So I assumed we were still governed by an old private agreement, that protects us from the perilous political dangers of Papists reestablishing what was disestablished at the Reformation. ‘As you all may know, gentleman, when you build your college, you will have the full use of the property for a token rent. However, you will be bound by the same laws that my family have been governed since the Reformation: This means that you may not change the use of your college into an unlawful political or religious purpose.’ My statement caused a certain amount of consternation, with more than a few of the old men, which suggested to me that some of them might have had some unlawful purpose in mind. Dawes discreetly closed our meeting after that, when some of them were prepared to dispute what I said. 28

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Dawes and I then quickly made our way back to our carriage, leaving them to talk over what had transpired. I decided to walk back to Pongbourne Manor. It was a delightful day, not too hot, and I needed time to think. The spare hour or so was an ideal opportunity to explore my property between the Abbey and the Manor. Dawes could see that I was now in good humour, and cracked a joke about sending out the troops, if I lost my way. I cracked back that I did not wish to be late for lunch, with my sister in command. At this, Dawes clambered up next to Jinx, and off they went, leaving me to return to the Abbey ruins, making my way to the path that led home to the Manor. This walk would be a good time to recall my memory, as well as explore the surrounding countryside. I needed to ground myself thoroughly in my new world.

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Exploring my new world The way back to the Manor was straighter than the way we had come, which had been by dirt road, skirting the village of Pongbourne. As I began making my way back, I remembered how Mary and I had often met at the Abbey for childhood meetings, coming by our separate paths, leaving by the same routes. We guessed the Abbey had some dark secret that had not come down to us, and only knew that it had born the name of Strata Rosa. We had all sorts of games to play in the name of the Rose, in between our usual eating of the fruits of the fields, such as hazel nuts and blackberries, which you may suspect, provided our real reason for meeting at the Abbey. My sister Agnes was never in on these secret meetings, and had kept a slight distance from Mary, always referring to her as “your friend” rather than calling her by her name. After a short distance after leaving the Abbey, I soon came to the Pilgrims Way, which crossed my path to the Manor. It was here that wild rose bushes were quite plentiful, and I knew that both red and white roses were growing at this particular spot. It had come down to us that this was to make sure that the Abbey was not suspected of supporting one side or the other during the War of the Roses. It was when the Tudors came to the throne, and Jack Roberts came to Pongbourne, that he was responsible for making sure that Tudor roses led to the Abbey as

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well, despite the fact he had been instrumental in turning it into a ruin. It appeared odd, that the whole of the walk along the Pilgrims Way had occasional wild roses, but only here were they in such glorious profusion. Roses were a code for something. What was it? I had never lived long enough at Pongbourne to find out. Because I had not entirely accepted the fact that I was living in a totally different world, I decided to walk along the Pilgrims Way to get a better view of the surrounding countryside, and it was possible to get a better view from a small incline called Roselings, barely half a mile away from the roses. I thought it might be possible to discover whether there was a motorway nearby. When the projected motorway had been in the planning stages, objectors had included the whole of the rural community, including Pongbourne village, the town people of Pongbridge, and included myself, then living in far away Cobham, Kent. Other routes had been suggested by the objectors, and possibly in this world, we had won, and the ghastly motorway might be visible many miles away from Pongbourne. The view from Roselings was splendid. Who could possibly wish to destroy such countryside? I could see for many miles, clear after the rain, and could not see a thing in sight, which suggested a motorway, or even a road that was busy with the noisy poisonous traffic. I then looked towards the town of Pongbridge, and saw a long train of yellow carriages, leaving in the London direction, 31

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and incredibly it was pulled by what looked like a steam locomotive, but there was very little or no smoke coming from it. I could hear it, such was the silence. Then looking in many other directions, I could see no sign of vehicle traffic of any kind, and thought that only very evil forces could wish to change this divine country, creating the Britain I had known. After enjoying this view for some time, I made my way back to the rose bushes, and set off for the Manor. On the walk back I had to decide a number of things. First, I had to decide that I was not dreaming, or was I mad, and decided that this was not madness, this was extreme sanity, and was far too real to be a dream. Second, I shall need a guide in this world, or people may think I am mad, when talking about my experience. Mary was obviously going to have to be my guide, my Dr. Watson, as Jill called her. Third, it was becoming more obvious to me that I was on the point of discovering a number of very important things, before my accident. It was even quite possible that the other Frank Roberts was at the same point of discovery. Our souls switching bodies across different worlds might be in some way connected. Here there might be coincidences to explore. Lastly, there must some divine reason for my being here, because such things do not just happen. Somebody always makes things happen. 32

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I had to accept my position as somebody chosen by some divine purpose, and was called to do something in this world, that I was unable to do in my own. This might also apply to the other Frank Roberts. Was he now in my old world doing something that he was called to do? By the time I arrived back, I was decided about most of these, although still overwhelmed by questions. When did this world diverge from my own? That was a question I was asking myself all the time. If only I knew some answers, this would help me to avoid falling into too many errors. It was quite possible that Mary and I did not share the same childhood: I was not the same person she had known, and she had her childhood with the other Frank Roberts. Mary and I could be assuming we shared certain things, but did not. We should find out when our worlds diverged, establishing our relationship on a sound basis. This was another reason why I needed Mary, who was the only person I could trust. Over lunch, I was still thinking things over very deeply, and was relieved to find that Agnes and everybody accepted my life long habit of thoughtful silences. We hardly exchanged more than a few words. What we did exchange was Agnes telling me “your friend” had met Phibbs in Pongbridge, and had something to bring over next week. Phibbs would be our family solicitor. Agnes assured me that Phibbs had taken care of certain papers of mine: Possibly, he was going to return them next week. 33

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I found that piece of news very important, because these papers might reveal clues to what the other Frank was doing, before his accident. I was guessing, upon the basis of my Coincidence Thesis, that Frank Roberts was probably on the point of making the same discoveries I had at the same time of my accident. I knew that I could not see Phibbs straight away, because I was off to London directly after church on Sunday, and left Agnes to arrange this meeting for me. After lunch, I decided to get in touch with Mary, before settling down to reading The Times. Settling into my easy wing chair in my study, I noticed that before me was a control box with named lights of three colours. It was not very difficult working out what these three colours meant. So I pushed my own button light until it went green, and then settled back in my chair to read. Within a minute or so, a green light marked Mary was flashing, so I pressed her button, and spoke rather loudly, ‘Yes Mary?’ Her voice came back instantly, ‘You received my message about Phibbs?’ ‘Yes! Phibbs probably has some papers he took, on the day of Frank's accident, and probably had instructions to do so. Do you know anything about these papers?’ ‘Not entirely,’ she returned, with a suggestion of mock pomposity creeping into her voice, ‘although I may make a reasonable guess 34

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that these papers may contain something to do with your next book on the Sabbs.’ ‘Sabbs!’ I repeated. ‘I am not sure what Sabbs are, and it sounds like we are talking about Sabbatarians.’ ‘No! No! Sabbs was originally our shortened term for Sabbateans or Sabbatians, and our way avoiding all the different ways of pronouncing and spelling the disciples of Shabtai Tzvim: the false messiah of the seventeenth century.’ ‘That is interesting, because I have only recently found out about Sabbateans, who were secret apostates within the Islamic and Jewish communities, inverting the Ten Commandments, turning the Law of Moses on its head.’ ‘Top marks Holmes! Sabb is now our generic term, describing master criminals, involved in all occult secret organisations. You will be meeting Sol next Monday, and he will tell you how the criminal members of the Prusso Teutonic orders are also included.’ ‘Mary, I follow you,’ is all I could reply to that. ‘Could you come over this evening? We need to plan next week, and I need Dr. Landau to become a Dr. Watson.’ ‘I think that is elementary my dear Roberts. Would this evening after dinner be suitable?’ ‘Fine! Fine!’ I said eagerly, pushing her button again. It went amber almost immediately. I then settled down to read The Times, and must have fallen asleep almost immediately. 35

Sabbs It was the sound of Agnes and her Tory Pongs leaving our library that woke me later that afternoon. I picked up The Times instinctively to continue my reading. The main article addressed the number of recent assassinations (mentioned in the second Editorial), which revealed that the murderers were still unknown, and suggesting measures that could or should be introduced, in comparison with draconian measures suggested by the government. These measure were then examined point by point, making it quite obvious how they would not deal with the problem. Their argument was that finding the criminals was the solution: finding the causes of these crimes, finding the assassins, not gestures of despair, making life more difficult for the vast majority of the population, claiming that bringing in the best brains in the country would “get to the bottom” of the murders, mentioning the Select Committee of the House of Lords. The Times claimed that this Committee had done very little work so far, and had failed to find the right people, because some potential members had been murdered before they even started working for it. However, they noted, the Committee was a focus, ending with the point that if the government did not find the right people, the assassins certainly would. I had a sense that the author of this article had some people in mind, but carefully concealed their identity, by carefully coded references. I

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wondered whom they had in mind. Possibly Frank had been working in this area, and his accident was no accident, as Mary had said. I remembered that my own accident was certainly suspicious, and came at a time when I was getting to the bottom of the probable causes of how my world had reached the stage of becoming hell on earth. Possibly, Frank and I had found the same people were behind the crimes of both worlds. Were they what Mary called Sabbs? When Colin brought my tea, I was still reading The Times, and continued reading until he called me to dinner. There was very little I did not read that day. It was most unusual for me to read the whole newspaper, but it was very important to find out how different this world was from my own. By the time I had finished reading, I felt more grounded, and this was an odd experience. Here I was in a completely strange new world, and I immediately felt more at home in it. It was during this first read of The Times that I found out that the European world was made up of Christian constitutional monarchies, which I naturally had no difficulty in accepting, or that England had reverted to modes of living that reminded me of the 1870s. On the other hand, the United States of America appeared to have evolved its elected imperial Masonic presidency much further along the wrong line, to a point where America was called a pseudo democratic experiment, that was seen as a great sham. This was showing signs of not working at all, and it 37

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was the Illuminist conceits that caused the most hostilities from the other powers in the world. America was seen now only as a shallow facade of its former dream, concealing real nasty forces at work, calling this facet, Plutocratic Fascism. The Americans compensated by projecting a highly individualistic parody of collective Narcissism, whilst covertly rejecting British Whig notions of republican limited democracy. The article claimed that everybody in the world could see the sham: Nobody pretended otherwise. America was in a crisis, and had lost all its former moral influence in the world. The picture described was as if the American people had imported a Whig caricature of Tory George the Third into power, still with all his Bolingbroke illusions, unshaken by any Whig colonial revolt. When I broke off for dinner, I thought over these matters in silence, which Agnes accepted, without our exchanging more than a few words. I was thankful for this, because I did not wish to give too much away. It was fortunate that Agnes always had her mind otherwise occupied. So after dinner, I quickly returned to my study, waiting for Mary. I first needed to think over a number of questions to ask her, which might give me a more objective assessment. It was possible that The Times was not accurate in so much of what it presented. During the twenties and thirties, the newspaper had been way out of line. It was more than possible they were now. 38

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When Mary joined me, I was wondering how the Christian monarchies of Europe had been restored, and she told me that there had been more than a Christian restoration of monarchies, but a proper religious restoration of the people as well. This had all happened since the War. Mary found it difficult imagining her Jewish background being merely an ethnic feature. To explore this, I asked her straight out, ‘How come you are a religious doctor in this world, when in my own world you were certainly Jewish, but not religious, where most doctors tended to be agnostic or atheists.’ ‘When people find out the false, particularly with religious matters, they are then able to fall back on the true. That is what happened to most of us since the War. We found out in time that the whole war thing was a put up job. The hatred that was framed against the Jews, was also framed against Germans. These master criminals always framed others for their own crimes. Discovering this forced us to explore the true.’ ‘Wars and hatreds do not just happen,’ I replied, thinking of how even the English are framed, ‘somebody makes them happen.’ ‘Yes! Exactly! Hatred against religion comes from the same people. Why these people should hate something so much, whilst discounting it as being purely superstitious fantasy, did not make sense to scientifically trained doctors. It was in finding this contradiction that led to our serious questioning, eventually leading to our being true 39

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to finding our own religious instincts. We found that it was our religious instincts which these people were seeking to exploit. First, they seek to drive religion underground, by ridiculing it, then tap our religious needs as an occult force. That is the psycho dynamic of the black arts.’ ‘That could be what some people call a conspiracy theory where I come from.’ ‘Of course they would call it that. They know how to deflect the discourse. Defamation is their main means of defaming people who speak out about them. You should remember how the Jews were framed for the murder of millions of people during the Russian Revolution, and how that was the prevalent conspiracy theory before the Second World War: The Jews did it. This was very cleverly framed in The Protocols before the First World War. Nobody properly examined the true nature of those so called Jews, who were responsible for those Russian mass murders.’ ‘Who was responsible Mary?’ ‘They were simply criminals!’ Mary replied blankly, waiting for a reply. ‘It is as simple as that Mary?’ ‘No! No! There is nothing at all simple how criminals organise themselves within religious communities and secret institutions. We took a very long time working that out. Accepting the fact they are criminal is simple enough. That has to be accepted: our first presupposition.’

40

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‘Are we talking about criminal political mafias? I have recently found out about various political false religious mafias!’ ‘It is exactly that!’ ‘Who thought up this crime syndicate?’ ‘It was certain criminal elements, who organised these Mafias.’ ‘Were they called the Illuminati?’ ‘It was more than that. The originating criminal fraternity was more than Weishaupt’s false Illuminati, which was an anti Christian network, established by Jesuits, aimed at all religions. It is true to say that Anglo-Scottish Freemasonry had penetrated Europe, and was undermining Catholicism, and the Counter Reformation. That tension gave Weishaupt his first big frame: Frame the Masonic Protestants, for the crimes of his hidden political Mafia, what he called Insinuating Brethren.’ What Mary said was fair summary, and summed up what I knew. Mary went on, ‘On the other hand, the Islamic and Jewish communities had the Sabbateans. It was their crimes that framed the true Jews for the Russian Revolution.’ ‘And the Turks for their crimes. Who else was involved in this conspiracy?’ I requested, teasing out as much as I could from Mary. ‘The third force in this unholy trinity, the Capstone as it was called, was the Rothschild money trust cartel, which further framed the 41

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Jews, giving the false impression that the great money scam was a purely Jewish racket.’ ‘In my world, they are now experts how to launder dirty money into respectable businesses, and so control most of the world.’ ‘That may be so in your world, but we stopped all that years ago. There are no cartel monopolies of credit in private hands now, which means that nobody is allowed to create money out of nothing.’ ‘Ah!' That is a clue I need to know more about, when our two worlds diverged, and how your world made this change. I have only recently begun to understand money matters.’ ‘Elementary my dear Roberts,' Mary replied, with a slight mock pomposity in her voice, ‘What you need to take into account is the importance of how criminal fraternities work in history. Crooks know instinctively how to run different rackets. All we have done is end the one great money scam, that was behind most criminal rackets. We killed the racket that was the parent of the rest.’ I nodded, and was about to reply, when Mary suddenly suggested, ‘It would be a good idea for me to call you Francis, like your family, and I shall then be able to refer to Frank as a separate person. That way, we should clear up confusion in my mind.’ ‘It would certainly help me know who I am.’ Mary responded by smiling, thinking deeply what she was about to tell me, and was obviously enjoying leading our conversation. 42

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‘I need to tell you how Frank's writings have influenced our history over the past four decades.’ ‘That might help us understand how our two worlds are different,’ I replied, thinking how very important this would be in understanding Mary, and her world. Mary collected her thoughts again, then started explaining, ‘It was Frank's book on Rackets that first brought home to people how they were being conned by a vast master criminal fraternity. The Great Money Scam was probably the biggest confidence trick in the whole of human history. Frank's book left no doubt in the minds of our vast reading public that they were being cheated: although his book was not particularly about the Money Scam, but about rackets. Nevertheless, it was those few words he wrote about the Money Scam, that made him famous.’ ‘My understanding is that money should be merely a medium of exchange.’ ‘Yes! The fallacy behind the Money Scam is insinuating that money has value, whereas money is merely a medium of exchange, a measure.’ ‘I follow that, Mary. Money should be merely tokens for value, not treated as possessing value in itself.’ ‘Most people find it very easy to fall for that error. Second, money is treated as a debt. That is how the scam under Usury Capitalism worked out in practice, which was in contradiction with a false theory of value.’ 43

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‘This racket would appear to be a double whammy: First the false theory of value, then placing debt in place of that false value.’ ‘Eric Berne and Frank showed us how all confidence tricks came about, in games and rackets, with people saying one thing, whilst doing something totally different. Confidence tricks tend to be based upon clever errors of thinking, such as elementary fallacies.’ ‘It is true to say that all dishonest scheming leads to rackets, Mary.’ ‘The Great Money Scam was no different in that respect. People were conned over centuries, without anybody spotting the errors of thinking. Falling for this con led everybody into many kinds of perverse insinuating behaviours: One result being, that the love of money became the root of all our evils, which was like confusing words with the meaning, so leading to a form of idolatry.’ ‘Matthew Arnold called word worship, Bibliolatry, and here we have money worship.’ ‘Yes Francis, with the Great Money Scam, we had the idolatry of money worship. Love and worship are the same, but it is perverse in the extreme, when such worship results in the love of money to the extent it blinds people.’ ‘Which is like falling in love with a column of figures, or Monetary Fundamentalism, the worship of money icons. As I told you, I understand these matters to some extent, because I am dyslexic. So many of my arguments with people have been over defining words, rather than over meanings. I 44

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have found word-bound people tend to confound words with their meaning. What you say about money worship, would be in keeping with their other fallacious tendencies.’ ‘What you call word-bound people are treating meaning as residing in words, rather than in correctly conceiving words as being merely tokens for meaning. I had many early arguments with Frank over this. It was my dear father who resolved our arguments, by telling us that the name of God was never uttered by the ancient Hebrews, except once a year, by the High Priest, and then only in a whisper, cordoned off from the rest of the congregation. It was upon that insight, that I begun to understand Frank’s mind. His word blindness freed him from most forms of idolatry. Later, this insight enabled him to read Theology properly, because he was never likely to worship the false gods of representative form, or the name of God, seeking only the divine in the life process itself.’ ‘That may explain my own difficulties with many people. They appear so totally materialist in religion, yet claim to be religious. My semantic agnosticism is regarded as irreligious. I think they miss the very essence of our Hebraic traditions.’ ‘Frank's early study of the origins of idolatry is why he worked on Rackets, and talked about tokens and values, and tokens and meanings. It was when Games People Play came out that he decided he would reply. I never quite understood the relevance though, at the time.’ 45

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I let that pass, considering that Mary had understood much of what Frank told her, but had not really managed to get inside what Frank was saying: Frank had a sensible connective ability, outside the bounds of words. This had given him unusual insight how fallacies in thought originate, and how language contributed to errors. ‘I gather his wife helped him write.’ ‘Indeed!’ Mary replied, blushing slightly, looking away, pointing to the bookcase. ‘Jane was a great help with all of Frank's writing, and shared authorship with their Cassandra Austen novels.’ This I found most interesting. So, Jane and Frank were creative writers as well. Such working together must have given them great pleasure, and I looked for the Cassandra Austen novels in the bookcases. They were evidently exploring all that they shared, and found a way of cementing their creative endeavours. Shortly after that, Mary said she had to leave, and we agreed that we should have regular meetings to discuss all matters, and quickly made our arrangements for our trip to London for the following afternoon. I have to admit now that I retired to bed that night with a much better grasp of the world's realities, than at any previous time, and this had been the most wonderful birthday.

46

Matins I slept very well that night, and woke refreshed the following Sunday morning. What was more, my memory was coming back to me with fresh vigour. The world in which I found myself was not a great problem, when it appeared to agree with me in every way possible. This had not been the case up to then. Nonetheless, I badly needed to find out more about this world, and how and when had it diverged from my own? If this is not a dream, then I had best make myself familiar with all aspects of its features, and looked forward to doing this, with increasing curiosity and interest. I had not known this attitude to life since my early childhood. Colin brought my breakfast to my room at the usual time, with instructions from Agnes concerning the day; such as details of church attendance that morning, and even how I would be conveyed to the station in the afternoon. Her coded message to me was that I could leave Pongbourne Manor in her very capable hands. I was thankful that I had such a sister. Agnes may have had certain difficulties fitting in the world I had known, but she had adjusted here very well. All the same, I wondered how she found the time to look after me, when she had Percy and estate to look after. As I was instructed, we all walked to Pongbourne Parish Church on a bright sunny August morning. I had visited this very church

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only a few days previously, and what saddened me then, was the obvious lack of care that had been evident in the exterior and interior. The building looked so dreadfully unattended in the religious sense. When I inspected the interior, I found ghastly notices all over the place, with magazines, appeals for money, and even slogans on the pillars and walls. When I took a look at the old Congregational Chapel, this had suffered even a worse fate, and was converted into a house for somebody, whose strange taste was not religious. Pongbourne had appeared to have lost its soul, and distressing to behold. Today it was quite different. I noticed that Agnes had softened even further, becoming more matronly, more caring and concern for those in our little group, as we made our way to the Parish Church. She walked with more grace and dignity, losing all her bossy tendency. Divine Service had a deep meaning to her, that was clear. When we passed the Congregational Chapel, I noticed a great difference, in that it was now in use, with people arriving, and giving friendly looks in our direction, as we walked past. We could hear the church bells tolling, and the organ playing. I only sensed full improvement, when we walked up the path to the church door, and took a quick look at the notice board, which announced his name was Rev. John Bull, B.D.,M.A., and he greeted us at the porch door. There was nothing about him that suggested great learning, and he was a plain John Bull sort of man; kind in the face, sensitive, 48

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noticeably without any Anglican neuroticism. He had a very pleasant knack of knowing exactly what to say to everybody. His address gave the impression of great singleness of mind. That is what I found out about him later: John Bull was an apt name. We went in. The interior had changed completely from what I had seen, only a few days before, and had none of the previous clutter. This building was now the place of the House of God, which everybody felt immediately, as we were passed our Prayer Books and Hymnal, where I was glad to discover books that should never have fallen out of use in the Church of England. On sitting down, thankful prayer was our immediate impulse. I wondered how anybody, high or low, broad or narrow would want to abandon this form of worship: It was so very gracefully apt, for an English nation at prayer. Also, for a start, there was nothing about the way John Bull conducted his business, that suggested he was at variance with what he was doing. The words of the Book of Common Prayer came naturally to him, never being automatic or forced. Reading these poetic words were the most natural thing in the world to him, as was his very careful rendering of the two readings of the Lessons, which were naturally from the King James Bible. All this fine care, finally led to our anticipation of his sensible comments on these passages. 49

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Here I was most surprised. Nothing he said in his sermon was political or carried an agenda, other than the Christian message. Yet, everything he said was relevant how to behave in a Christian country. John Bull's sermon was deeply political in a spiritual sense, right down to its religious roots; theologically radical, truly Christian, propounding very simple Christian notions, of what pervaded Christian behaviour; spirit. He never had the need to politicise what he was saying. That would have been to compensate for what he was unable to say. He used his learning to conceal his learning, and spoke very plainly. Nothing he said was from a great height, or patronising, speaking person to person, and so everybody in his congregation felt he was speaking to them personally. I shall not attempt to tell you all what he said, except to say he was addressing the issue of the fall of nations, and how the body is the temple of the Holy Spirit. These two Lessons covered notions that are closely connected. It is probably why the authors of the Book of Common Prayer put them together. What Jeremiah said in his day, reflected in what St Paul said many centuries later, to the people of Corinth. He said, as with any moral lesson, one should read these words again, and again, as well as the vast literature dealing with this theme. Occasionally, I would catch him alluding to my own favourites, but he did this so skilfully. Should I have been better read, I might have heard all his allusions, and understood the sense 50

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of the whole sermon. However, this did not matter. These quotes were all part of his fabric that made sense of the context of what he was saying. They were never thrown out to impress, but were only at the service of his message, and integral parts of this man's Christian character. His religious understanding made sense to him, so he spent all his life making sense of Christianity, and made it very clear to everybody, that it was his personal vocational pleasure to share this rich sense with his congregation. As we filed out after the service, I did my best to make the right noises in agreement with him, which he received modestly, in an almost matter of fact sort of way, as one Christian to another. The result was that we left him with the same single minded approach he had conveyed. On the way back, it became clear to me that his congregation went to Matins in anticipation every Sunday morning, and they were never disappointed. This left me thinking deeply about the way I had seen the world of religion up to then. What was it that gave them their singleness of mind? What was it about my world that was so dreadfully wrong, and how had it come about? I think I became religious again after this Sunday.

51

Journey through paradise We had a light lunch on our return. It was an ideal setting in preparing my mind for the journey to London by train, because Mary came over to have lunch with us, so we could set off together. This lunch reminded me of my early childhood, before my mother had to sell up, and I wondered again whether the Mary I was sharing this meal was the same Mary with whom I had shared so many pleasant memories, all those years ago. All my best memories were of that time. This made our lunch all the more pleasurable, exchanging small talk, and avoiding going deeply into matters, until we could be alone. Mary had insisted that it would be very wise to give nothing away at this stage, because very few people would understand the significance of what had happened to me. It would be better to allow my apparent loss of memory to appear to come back in natural stages, preferably with the aid of my family and friends. After lunch, Jinx and our carriage arrived promptly at the proper time, set by Agnes. We set off in good spirits. Apparently, our family habit of driving around in carriages was not an eccentric whim, but a way Frank advertised he bred and trained carriage horses. Our journey that day was also a way the family advertised the fact that I was up and about, and not driven mad by grief, but only had a slight memory problem. It soon become evident to me that it was quite possible to move about in this way. I was

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keen to discover how this was so. The first thing I noticed was that people were able to move about much more easily than I was used to, because there was no excess of motor traffic. There was nothing dangerous driving the walking public off the highways. Bicycles were about, driven mostly by a silent motive force, which I commented on immediately. Mary simply replied, ‘suspension power!’ adding that the moving parts of these bicycles had generative means of feeding power to batteries, which provided their motive power, an invention developed over forty years. ‘How could we afford the cost of developing such an invention?’ I asked. Mary thought for a few moments, and then said, in her mock pompous manner, ‘When the money changers are driven out of the Temple, everything is possible.’ I did not pursue the matter further, then Mary expanded upon what she had said. ‘Once we had eliminated anxious obsessive profit motives from our lives, usury capitalism, it has been possible to evolve much more efficient modes of living. Suspension powered bicycles are only one.’ As we passed into Pongbridge, I noticed little motor traffic cluttering the streets. People looked all the better for it, because they were able to walk about, without any intimidating noise and pollution. We were able to drive our open carriage through the streets, without needing breathing apparatus. What vehicles were about, appeared to be driven by methods that had become available 53

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under the new ecological order, which were mostly nonpolluting and silent. I did not ask Mary this time how they were driven, because it was such a delight to see this town again in such a pleasant state, where all the buildings appeared to be in touch with the people. Pongbridge was an English market town at peace. Nothing could be more natural. Everything about my past appeared unnatural, unreal, and totally hellish. We arrived at the railway station in good time, and greeted by the Station Master, who obviously knew Mary well. They soon fell into a very lively conversation, while she bought our tickets. I could not help noticing that our old pennies, shillings, and pounds coinage was still in use, the same we had before introducing an highly expensive alien cent system. I could only wonder at the wisdom of these people. Because Mary appeared to wish to talk to the Station Master privately, I decided to have a look round. The Station was a hive of activity. It was obvious the services they were giving was a pleasure to those who worked there, providing a Sunday afternoon feel to it all. People were doing their tasks with friendly enthusiasm, and I was instantly reminded of people who ran trains for a hobby. I found out that is what they were doing. Hobbyists ran that side of the business some days of the week, the Great Western ran the trains, and had no restrictive trade practice problems with railway unions. 54

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When the train arrived, I was returning to Mary, who was still talking to the Station Master, who led us to our compartment. I was surprised how much care he showed us on that occasion, and only later discovered the significance of his attention. We had a compartment to ourselves. A minute or so after he left, the train pulled away in the graceful manner, only experienced by those who have lived during the age of steam. I looked at Mary opposite me, and only then fully understood why she looked so different from the other Mary I had seen only a few days previously. If Mary always went by train in such a graceful manner, such influences would certainly give her the look she carried. I was already feeling this civilising influence upon myself. I took a good look out of the window at the English countryside. My view was like a Constable picture. From the outset of my first journey by train, I could not see signs of hideous Modernist developments. Everywhere appeared to be on a completely human scale, and reminded me of the world of sixty or more years ago, which was still a country reflecting the life of previous centuries. This was not like discovering a new world order, because nothing was new in any perverted sense. Nothing suggested change for changes sake, the dictum of Modernism. Here everything was true to itself, enhancing what people had inherited. I had to give voice to it, ‘Mary, I see that the paradise of our English countryside has been well preserved, which is still 55

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the natural creation of countless generations of English farmers. Also, I could not but notice that we still have our old British coinage system, with pennies, shillings, and ten bob notes. I now look at this view, and see the same sensible things. How is it possible that so much English common sense has been so very well preserved?’ ‘It is not possible to tell you how all this came about, Francis, because I have only the vaguest notions of how it could be otherwise. I take it all for granted. It is true that nothing has been spoilt, and I find it difficult imagining how anybody would want it otherwise.’ ‘I suspect that I asked the wrong question: I should be asking how my own world became the way it was.’ ‘Yes! You are right! Your question is like asking a genius how he or she came upon this or that discovery. The correct question is to ask how we did not come upon the discovery ourselves.’ ‘My world is a great mess, and certainly lacks genius, as well as grace. We changed our perfectly naturally British coinage system, and foolishly adopted a Continental Cent system. This was a highly costly thing to do, contributing to massive inflation, because people were incapable of working out how they were being cheated.’ ‘We went decimal by simply changing the value of the penny to ten to the shilling, and the three penny bit became a two penny bit, making ten bits to the florin. The introduction required a minimum of bother to everybody: It was all over 56

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in a day, requiring one very simple piece of legislation, reducing inflation immediately.’ ‘What about the other values,’ I asked innocently. ‘But Francis, our existing money system was already decimal. Decimalisation is simply dealing in tens with all tokens. We already had ten florins to the pound, twenty shillings to the pound, for centuries. Values of our other coinage remained nearly the same. We kept the farthing, so our British coinage became a perfect three decimal place system. No government threatens us with inflation now, beyond three decimal places.’ ‘My world is without genius. This one has it. Is that it?’ ‘Something like that! Like fools, your post War generations must have continued to fall for conmen.’ I nodded. ‘Face it!’ Mary said fiercely, ‘Somebody must have conned you. Anybody could ruin this world, Francis! It is the easiest thing in the world to destroy what has been achieved over countless generations. Any child can destroy what adult people create for them. It would take only a few very childish people to destroy what you see through that window. Fortunately, we have been graced by genius since the War.’ ‘And Frank was one of those?’ ‘He was one of those,’ Mary replied, looking out of the window, thoughtfully and sadly, and I did also. We both fell silent. Mary was missing Frank, because he had been her great friend: I was a poor substitute. I 57

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decided to find out about Frank's life, which might give us common ground and understanding. Possibly I should explain further: Mary's character was much the same as I had known her, only here she was more so, because she had flowered. Her Jewish background no longer made her feel an alien in a foreign land. She was at home here. It was becoming clear to me that her friendship with Frank had been part of that sense of being at home. If my mother had not sold Pongbourne Manor, it is possible that I would have been an equally good friend to Mary. After passing through Reading, I noticed some gradual build up before London, although there were many small improvements. All the old canals were back in use, with quiet busy traffic. It was also pleasant passing through marshaling yards again, with acres of rails to view from our carriage window. I was pleased to see that there had been no asset stripping of the railways. The Great Western still owned what they had bought a century or so ago. These assets were still in use, and they were using the latest technology. I asked, ‘Mary! Why steam, why not oil? Why not use electricity?’ She thought very carefully, then replied, ‘We have the coal, we have the brains, able to develop the right pollution free technology, and we have the right system of finance: Money is the servant Francis. Why change something, for the sake of change?’ 58

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I fell silent again. Why did we make all those foolish changes after the War? We first nationalised our railways, until they were an unmanageable monopoly, becoming an easy pray to union blackmail. We were then ripe to fall for German Nazi ideas of building motorways all over our wonderful countryside, mere follies to escape from the previous ones. Why did we fall for them? I wondered how Frank would possibly make sense of it all. He would think the people of Britain were mad or stupid. I was glad to be out of it, and did not envy Frank the task of making sense of traffic logjams, medical treatment that resulted in more diseases, and expensive trains that no longer took everybody to their home town.

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Pongo Paddington Station was very busy, when our train glided into our platform, and we were greeted by a gentleman called Christmas Williams. He was to drive us through London, to Pongbourne House. I took a good look at the people milling around us, as we walked to the car. What struck me first was how people were so smartly dressed. There was also a distinguishing of race and rank, but each bore their position with confidence and pride. Nobody wanted to appear badly in the eyes of others. I could find no people wearing jeans, and wondered whether they were compensating, making up for lack of status, or whether their appearance was real. If was as if nobody wished to appear as nobody, and so everybody had a place. Their features on most of their faces conveyed a unique confidence in their own position in life. This was comforting, because they were mostly at peace with themselves. Also more strangely, nobody appeared to be out of place, or alien, even those from foreign parts, because everybody appeared to assume they were accepted. They were a fascinating crowd to observe and take note of their differences. On the way through London, I quickly noted again there were no hideous buildings, only a great variety of them, and in many styles. London was now so individually diverse, and on a human scale, and equally strangely, no building was out

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of place. The great diversity had created its very own unique pattern, and was a pleasant delight to my senses. I wondered how it was made possible for London to be such an aesthetic place. It might take me many years to explore only one mile of it. It was also pleasant to see, as it we passed through Trafalgar Square, the National Gallery had been extended, but had been done in the style of the original. It was difficult distinguishing the original from the extension. How could anybody do otherwise? I was already beginning to think like Mary, and thought it the most natural thing in the world to conserve and respect the original! Change only what and when you needed to do so! Respect yourself above all! Because of my sad memories of the sell up, before I had anything to do about it, I was a little apprehensive when we drew near to Pongbourne House. When my mother sold the property to a vehicle property company, they had bought our house for conversion into car showrooms, and offices, and I had avoided that part of London ever since. The place had far too many fond memories. I did not wish to lose my memories. That was now all in the past. Now I was returning to my London home. As we drew near, I could see little had changed. If anything, some of the buildings had been improved, although not modernised, or pseudo-modernised, as one might call it. Modernism, Pseudo Modernism, and Ultra Modernism, had obviously ended in architecture many years ago, or had not started. What I could 61

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see was respect for identity of the buildings, within a human scale. No building stuck out like a sore thumb; nothing was Narcissistic. All the buildings appeared alive in community with each other. Again I had to ask: How was it possible for something to be so diverse, yet so well patterned, all of one piece? How could anybody plan such a delightfully diverse place as this London? Dear old Christmas Williams drove us gingerly into Pongbourne House, and pulled up at the back entrance. Mary quickly whispered ‘Joiks!’ in my ear, pointing to a gentleman opening our door, who said in a rich Welsh melodious voice, ‘Welcome back Sir Francis! Lady Agnes told us you would be in town for a couple of days.’ ‘So! So! Joiks. We shall be on your hands only for a short stay.’ Joiks talked to Mary for a few minutes, then Mary said, ‘I shall be at the Mansfield for the rest of the day.’ I was rather put out by this turn of events, and was about to reply, when Mary said, 'Do read Rackets, ready for tomorrow.' Mary then swiftly returned to the car, and was gone. Joiks then led me to my suite rooms on the second floor. As we made our way to my rooms, he was continually giving me instructions about my meals, our walk to chapel that evening, who was in Town, my appointments tomorrow, then 62

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finally making sure I was settled in my rooms properly, before finally leaving me alone. At that point, I was determined to do what Mary had requested, and had a good look through Frank's library for Rackets People Run. This was soon found, when I decided to retire to bed, to read the opening chapters. Frank’s style and content was not easy on first reading, but my interest was taken up with it immediately, and have dipped into it many times since. It is barely a hundred pages long, and the cause of lengthy thought-provoking arguments. Its words are on the lips of countless numbers of people, without their knowing it, providing much of what they take for granted. Possibly that is why I did not find my first reading easy.

Introduction Rackets are simple schemes of conspiring to obtain money, power, and other benefits, by fraud, manipulation, and illegitimate means. First, fraud is achieved by insinuating dishonest covert purposes, within apparently innocent overt baited aims. Second, manipulation is by baiting victims into doing (or thinking) one thing, whilst hooking them into doing something else. Anxiety, envy, fear, greed, jealousy, pride and prejudice, virtues 63

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as well as vices, all may act as baits, targeted at victims according to their vulnerabilities. Third, behind the baits are hooks, which are the illegitimate covert purposes of all rackets, inducing victims into making involuntary, unexpected, and unpleasant transactions. Finally, baits and hooks, called gimmicks, are the two algedonic and dialectically calculated elements of rackets. Nothing happens by chance, because somebody makes things happen in an apparently non analytical way. Rackets are easy to describe, but are not so easy to explain, because they are so simple in basic design, that few people are able to accept they could be so easily cheated. Also the complexity of any explanation tends to increase in an inverse proportion to the simplicity of what is being explained. Racketeers have advantages working for them; an honest naive incredulity of their victims, who always have an inability to explain the crass simplicity of how they have been cheated. Games and Rackets Rackets are not like games, where we have fair rules laid down how to play. In rackets, insinuation (or verbal cheating) is the golden rule, and in place of rules, there are cons 64

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(confidence tricks) to deflect us from knowing there are no rules. Cons are how crooked people induce victims to run particular rackets: Conning by insinuation is how crooked people manipulate even the most sound characters. We initiate games by invitations, and accept them under known terms, and so we always know the game we are about the play. When we start playing one game, we do not find ourselves playing another, or start playing under one set of rules, only to find ourselves playing under another. With games, conflict is central. Nobody pretends there are no conflicts in games, because games are competitive. Our honourable aim in playing games is in testing our skill in resolving conflicts under known rules. On the other hand, when we are hooked into rackets, we are run like fishes on a hook. With rackets, only cheats win: Rackets are gaming for cheats. It is possible to cheat at games, and this has been covered by Eric Berne, in Games People Play, which are not really games in the proper sense of the term. Berne was describing crooked gaming, which he should not have called games, because redefining games to mean crooked gaming, undermines the correct notion of games. This error of thinking has a bad affect on our moral psychology.

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However, Eric Berne did introduce us to a structured notion of what was straight, compared with what was crooked behaviour, in what he called TA (Transactional Analysis), morally defining legitimacy and illegitimacy in the process. It is the ulterior (double dealing) nature of crooked transactions that make up crooked gaming. He described these accurately, when talking of overt and covert transactions, the essence of insinuation. We shall provide better insights into what Berne was describing, when we call insinuating (crooked) behaviours as gaming, and game to mean straight behaviour. A Formula: Mnemonics Our knowledge of how to deal with rackets is found in knowing the intention of persons seeking to engage us in transactions. If they are straight, they will follow one set of procedures, if they are crooked, they will usually follow another. What we need to do is distinguish between two setup procedures, reduced to mnemonics: Invitation + Conflict + Rules + Honour = Games. Insinuation + Bait + Con + Hook = Rackets."

When we respond honourably to invitations to play games, we play a serve, expect to be fairly responded to by other players with other serves, then continue the game in this way, until one or 66

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other of us wins. Because of this fair play, games are a real pleasure to play, even when we lose. On the other hand, once we are hooked into rackets, they are not played at all, but run by one party in the transaction, who are control freak cheats, providing them unfair advantages to pull switches, manipulating further illegitimate baited scams in cross-ups of bad feelings, finally ending in spurious payoffs. There are no true win or lose situations in rackets, only payoffs, which never satisfy anybody. We may represent these two outcome procedures in the following mnemonics: Play > Serve > Expectation > Win/Lose = Games Run > Switch > Cross-up > Payoff = Gaming/Rackets

In social psychiatry terms, games are an honest open society model: where rackets are a dishonest closed society model. That is all we really need to know about games and rackets. Healthy normal people go for a win or lose situation. They are smart enough to see that everybody wins in honest open societies. On the other hand, deviant unhealthy people cannot bear the thought of losing, or somebody else winning. Like John Milton's Satan, they would much sooner rule unfairly in hell, than serve fairly in heaven. I had more than enough to think about, after reading Frank’s opening chapter, and was relieved when Joiks called me to our afternoon 67

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meal. I had liked the way Frank approached the subject, of a conscious moral psychology, quite unlike Berne's unconscious moral psychology. From this, it was possible to understand how both authors had influenced people back in the sixties. It was also possible to see how my new ecological world order was moving more towards everybody serving in heaven, rather than ruling in hell. Eric Berne had often idealised the possibility of what he had called a game free life. Possibly the people I now saw around me had created a milieu that was racket free.

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Sunday rituals I found that Joiks had gathered most the staff round the dining room table, when I came down for my afternoon meal. This was a delightful Sunday afternoon institution that Frank had introduced, as a means of meeting his London staff, and what surprised me was the number of people employed at Pongbourne House. Many were London Welsh, and this included Joiks, which was not his real name, but a name Jack and Jane had given him. Their nickname had stuck. His real name was John Jones, and he was in his element. I was impressed by the polite kindness they showed to each other, and how nobody appeared sullen or servile, or putting on airs, very Welsh, some would say. This appeared to me to have a lot to do with their sensible pace of life, where people had time to care for each other. They gave the same equal respect to me. After my arrival, they chatted on, accepting my silence as quite normal. Joiks served, I was helper, and we did not have much to say. What they said to each other was an education in itself, and told me all I needed to know about their world, which they clearly accepted. After this meal, I returned to my rooms, and found a change of Sunday clothes waiting for me, as well as a hymn book and Bible. From this, I found out that Frank was a Congregationalist in London, and attended a local Welsh chapel with Joiks, which made sense of Frank’s approach to

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life. We would walk as usual, Joiks told me earlier, and when everybody was ready, we set off. Some of the staff followed behind us, still talking. When we arrived at the chapel, Joiks waited, allowing them to go in first, while I took a good look at the notice board, and saw that the Rev Richard Price, D.D., was the Minister. He greeted us as we entered, and I was again struck by the same singleness of mind in his address, that I had seen with the Rev John Bull. The chapel was already filling up, and it became obvious that everybody was glad to see me, looking curiously in our direction, as Joiks led the way to our seats. The inside of the building was so well polished, and with so much wood, it was like the inside of a cello, which set off the sound off the organ very pleasantly. When we sat down, I was instantly in thankful prayer again for being in such a divine place for a second time that day. However, I was soon lost in thought, when the service started. Hearing hymns sung in harmony in England is always a rare experience. I woke from many thoughtful slumbers, when Dr. Price began his sermon, on the theme of Justification by Grace, which he claimed was through the gifts of faith, the life of the spirit. He emphasised that Grace could be through many differing ways, but that it is only by Grace that leads to the way of redemption and salvation. He said it was easy to have simplistic notions of salvation through faith in Jesus Christ, like belief in some magical icon. Only pagans believed all 70

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that magical manipulation stuff, as did secular ideologues, with their perverse worldly icons. It was a false belief; that human effort that caused salvation. This is not what Christians believe. The Christian religion is not based on magic, but on reason; divine reason. Redemption and salvation only comes by Grace, which is a gift of God, not the result of human effort. Grace, or divine spiritual enlightenment, is our road to faith, which enriches our inner creative dynamic nature, we call spirituality. God has to find us first, when we are elected to seek the Kingdom of Heaven. Our seeking salvation without Grace is futile, because you have to find the door before you may enter. At which point, Dr. Price suddenly ended his sermon, which brought home the question posited in his message all the more powerfully. I was again lost in thought on my way out of the chapel. We hardly said a word on the way back to Pongbourne House, except to agree with what was said by Dr. Price. The sermon was very meaningful to Joiks, because his meaning in life was based upon his notions of finding Justification by Grace in his calling; which was looking after Pongbourne House. To him, doing so was much more than a job, but a means of serving God, whom he served with a deep charitable religious purpose. His sense of serving deepened his own spiritual experience. I wondered whether Joiks would have found Grace in my world? This left me thoughtful on the nature of grace and justification. 71

More on Sabbs Mary was waiting for me, when we arrived back, and told me that her meeting had ended earlier than expected, and she decided to come and tell me the outcome. ‘Is there anything I might need to know?’ ‘Yes! Sol was there, and I had a quiet word with him, putting him in the picture. I hope you do not mind.’ ‘No! Not at all. It does save my telling him tomorrow.’ ‘Sol was not at all surprised. He said the point of having four doctorates, was that it told him how ignorant he was. Learning that some rare souls could move from one space-time singularity to another would not threaten the extent of his ignorance.’ ‘What did you decide?’ ‘I made it quite clear to them, as your doctor and your friend, that you were not likely to regain you memory very quickly.’ ‘Will this affect them in some way?’ ‘Yes! Frank was a key figure. The House of Lords Assassination Select Committee gave some of the research work to a subcommittee, called the Frankist Study Group, and Frank chaired that. Frankist was a pun on his name, to conceal we were researching Frankists, or more specifically Sabbs.’ ‘I vaguely remember the Frankists. Tell me more. We did not finish discussing them.’

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‘The Frankists were followers of another false messiah, of the eighteenth century, called Jacob Frank, followers of the same occult tradition as the Sabbs. You may remember me mentioning the Sabbateans or Sabbatians, followers of the false Messiah of the eighteenth century. Jacob Frank joined his forces with Amschel Rothschild, with Adam Weishaupt of the Bavarian Illuminati. Since that date, followers of these three rogues have been behind every war and revolution you dare to mention.’ ‘Yes, we have been hearing of unknown dark forces recently from our own Queen.’ I thought this over. I had no idea how the Frankists were important, until very recently. I thought they had merged with the Illuminati, or Rothschilds, until I read a book by Barry Chamish, Shabtai Tzvi, Labor Zionism and the Holocaust, drawing heavily upon another well sourced work by Dr. Marvin Antelman, To Eliminate the Opiate. It was Rabbi Antelman’s work that revealed great gaps in the historical knowledge. ‘Dark forces? That is what our group was researching,’ Mary continued, interrupting my thoughts. ‘I was probably the first person to publish the known criminal beliefs of the Sabbs, which are ideological emulations of the character and personality traits of the criminal personality. Find any born criminal, and we find various traits, such as doing the forbidden, double dealing, belief in their divine right to take what was not their own, elitist contempt for ordinary people, murder 73

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if they do not get their way, and so forth. The Sabbs turned these criminal traits into an occult belief system.’ ‘What you say sounds like a systematic and deliberate form of what could be called ideological incrimination.’ ‘Yes! It is by way of occult indoctrination rituals that criminals are able to persuade people, who are not inherently crooked, into becoming useful idiots of criminal ventures. The French, Russian, and German revolutions all had Sabbs as key Agentur. The Frankists were originally anti Islamic and anti-Judaic criminals, the same as the Bavarian Illuminati were anti Christian. However, we were only able to make proper sense of the history of the last two centuries, by separating out these two forces.’ This made sense. Up to then, I had failed to distinguish the activities of the Sabbs from the Illuminati, although obviously there was some overlap. What Mary said made much sense, and explained how the Russian Revolution was so confusing. The so called learned Elders of Zion were not real Jews at all, because it never made sense that true Jews could be to blame for something that was so irreligious. They were revolutionaries, pretending to be Jews, hiding behind a false flag cover story, which was also the means of framing the real Jews, by which they furthered their criminal ventures later that century in Nazi Germany and Poland. 74

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‘The Protocols of the Meetings of the Learned Elders of Zion were by Sabbs, I suppose, not by the Illuminati?’ I suggested. It was also occurring to me that Frankist and Sabbatteans were merely named after false Messiahs of an occult tradition, quite possibly going back centuries. I was not sure how much to add about this to Mary, when she quickly replied, ‘That is a conclusion we arrived at a very early stage of our studies. Sol has always known the Russian Sabbs were called the Learned Elders of Zion. Their role was to carry out the plan of bringing the Russian empire under control of the Frankist bankers, becoming the ruling group after the Russian Revolution, and were hiding behind a Jewish facade. They were certainly enemies of the religious group they hid behind.’ ‘They were Marxists Mary: How could they be otherwise? However, Marx certainly authored A World without Jews.’ ‘I hold this work to have been falsely misinterpreted as being anti-Jewish. Karl Marx writing On The Jewish Question was a work in the Jewish prophetic tradition, and contains some sound criticism of usury. It is true to say that this work is the secret heart of his later writings: His implicit criticism of the great Money Scam is all there in 1843. What the early Marx opposed was Jewish support for usury, or debt based political economy, and it true that Marx concentrated on the resulting alienation, which obsessed him.’ 75

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‘It is also true Jews have been burdened with such accusations for centuries. German debt based finance capitalism was called Semitism by the Prussians. It is on record that Lord Rothschild commented to Disraeli on the resulting dangers of anti Semitism.’ ‘Semitism and anti-Semitism were coined at the same time in Germany. However, Marx could also have been defamed as being ant-Semite to bury his early opposition to usury.’ ‘That may explain how his little booklet became so neglected by later Marxists, when Marx came under the influence of the bankers.’ ‘Sabbs were certainly hatefully anti Jewish in a moral and religious sense. They certainly turned the Law of Moses on its head, as you said the other day, and were responsible for creating ideological criminals. However, the three rogue forces needed to conceal knowledge of money scams, even from criminals. It would not do to let the useful idiots find out how they were being conned. That might cause a massive revolt within the ranks of the criminal fraternities. This little booklet by Karl Marx had to be kept from sight, and defaming his booklet as being anti-Semite would do that quite effectively.’ 'I have been told Mary, that Marx attended occult perverse sex rituals on Capri?’ ‘It is always possible these stories are coming from the other side of their dialectic. We must never forget the dynamic this conspiracy has, in always seeking to control both sides.’ 76

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‘It has always appeared to me, that Marxism has been largely translating criminal tendencies into what they regarded as politically correct formulations. It has resulted in what is now called Political Correctness in my world.’ ‘We shall be interested in hearing more of this from you, Francis. Frank and Sol studied the language clubs of criminal conspiracy groups, and published a number of papers on what they called Lexical Analysis.’ ‘Marx certainly behaved like a grown up delinquent, by spending some of his evenings going round breaking street lamps, and then being chased by the police.’ ‘That is not exactly the behaviour of a moral sage,’ Mary replied, aware by this time that I was being deliberately provocative with her. ‘It is our opinion now that Marxism the Institution is what became the vehicle of the bankers, and why Marx was paid to write The Communist Manifesto. You have to talk to Sol about Marxian projections, and he will tell you how Marx is very well documented by biographers, and how his moral projections were always upon his own insinuating amoral abstractions. His style is always insinuating. Marx had all the delinquent defects of character, he was abstracting upon the evils of society. It is a very common tendency, found in most criminals and revolutionaries, being an aspect of their self hatred they are never able to bring to the surface of their mind. They seek to justify their own criminal tendencies, by projecting it upon others. 77

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Yes, we know a lot about the criminal personality profiles of both Engels and Marx, and I was invited to become a member of the Frank’s Study Group, because of my profiling studies of criminal personalities. There is still much more to do.’ ‘Frank and I appear to have been exploring many of the same subjects Mary. Possibly these coincidences connect us in some way. He certainly has something to offer my world, and I may have something to offer this world.’ ‘We agree! Sol thinks it is a good idea to retain you on the Frankist Study Group. After all, Frank never gave up, despite his accident. There is no reason at all why you should do so.’ ‘It is always possible that I might know their long range plans, because these plans are largely achieved in my world. None of you are really able to see their plan in your more perfect world.’ ‘These assassinations are most certainly something to do with it,’ Mary concluded, rising to close our discussion for the evening.

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The Great Money Scam I was by this time feeling quite tired, and wanted to get an early night. So we broke up then, and returned to our rooms. Nonetheless, despite my tiredness, I decided to finish scanning Frank's book, before going to sleep. There was more than enough in Rackets to send me to sleep. The rest of the book filled in the details with examples, based upon the structure provided in the introduction, and described the Great Money Scam very neatly. The insinuation confused the measure (money), with the thing being measured (value). By pretending that money had value in itself, it could become scarce (as bait), instead of being merely a quantifier, like inches, pounds, or watts, which are obviously not commodities. Of course, coining money in gold and silver (as bait), only confuses the mind of the victims further. The hook was falling for the Bankers’ Scam, where the insinuation compounded the pretense that money was a valuable commodity, and gave the bankers an opportunity to issue this ‘valuable commodity’ to themselves, as credit, and lending it out to those in need: as mere book entries. It was by pretending this debt system was real, that created a false value system in modern political economies. Moreover, because this debt was simply invented out of nothing by racketeers, as credit to themselves, this allowed them to manipulate further scams, based on false values. Few people have ever found out how they were

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being cheated, because once the mass of the people were hooked on debt, the power of the money masters over the political economy was complete. It mattered little who made the laws, racketeers had all the real power. Frank described a supporting academic racket, which I mention below, called Economism, explaining that although the main racket had been far too simple for people to reason out how they were being cheated, it needed further obfuscation to make doubly sure. Much more obtuse bookish explanations were needed to obfuscate the minds of the rising intelligentsia; Economics was born. Frank mentioned that Henry the First of England had already reasoned it all out, and had issued value tokens, with tally sticks, by which he financed his government, having the whole of the resources of his kingdom behind him. Government money as credit, and the issue of money, were the same under his fiscal system. This was most probably when the robber barons first saw their opportunity. Why should Henry Beauclerc get away with making money out of nothing, when they could enrich themselves so much better? So Frank ended this section on the Great Money Scam, by mentioning how these wicked robber barons set up their racket, mentioning Knights Templars, Teutonic Knights, Free Masons, their mysterious power and wealth, and how Masonic like societies have successfully kept the secret of the Great Money Scam every since. 80

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This section on the Money Scam was so simple, not much to it really, that I wondered why people only woke up in 1964. I shall suggest that many people had read Games People Play, and become aware how people con each other. Eric Berne had by 1964 already educated the natural resistance to looking at how people run emotional rackets, which provided the baits of other rackets, such as money scams. The reasons for the delay in finding out about the Great Money Scam, was most probably answered in the racket called Economism, which Frank called a conspiracy of the professionals against the laity. I had often wondered whether gobbledygook had something to do with my own failure to understand economics, when trying to read books on this subject. They left me confused. According to Frank, Economics was riddled with ideological, ontological, and pathological fallacies, all going back to the work of the English Jacobins. I was to find out the following week from Sol, that exposing this racket had resulted in the closing down of the London School of Economics, as well as the other institutional fallacies that body had engendered, including the LSE Law School. Another racket I found of particular interest, which had a direct bearing on the obfuscations of Economism, and explained how veracity could be undermined. Frank called this racket, Comparative Equivalence, naming it after the Insinuation. This fooled people into accepting something was true, when it was not. Manipulation was by baiting with 81

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false comparisons, concluding (hooking) what the racketeer wanted, and a false authenticated belief in a lie was the outcome. Moral equivalence is a subset of Comparative Equivalence. Lastly, just before falling asleep, I was flabbergasted by Frank's simplicity in explaining Defamation rackets. Frank claimed that the way crooks defend racketeering, was by insinuating that callers of rackets were defaming them. He claimed that such methods never fail to work, because the best defence is offence. A sure way that racketeers deflect discourse from discovering rackets, was by calling any person who discovers one, a conspiracy theorist. When that does not work, accuse them of anti Semitism, because a few racketeers of Jewish origins could be found. That knocked me out immediately, I fell asleep, and slept soundly all night.

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Naturalism? As I said, at that point I fell asleep, slept very soundly, and woke very refreshed the following Monday morning. My mind was remarkably clear, when I woke, and decided there and then to make a habit of taking stock every morning, because it might take a long time getting used to this world. Now I had increased responsibilities, I needed this habit to keep up with things. Being a creature of habit, this would not be very difficult. First, I was surprised how easily I fitted into this world. There was nothing about it that I felt was out of kilter with my senses. Frank’s critique of rackets appeared to be the clue to how the pace of life appeared to be more in tune with my own body. The value system of the world I had come from was way out, resulting in a false pace and vague anxiety. This forced me to look at what kind of world I had accepted. Furthermore, I had no difficulty at all fitting in with these new increased responsibilities. The whole scheme of things appeared to be a matter of partnerships, roles, and serves, rather than of command, control, and false identities. Everybody knew their place, including control freaks, and so it all went well in a world, where roles replaced false identities. This would explain the confidence of everybody. They knew who they were, what they were doing, and where they were going. Nobody appeared alien or lost in this racket free society, so everybody played, and benefited.

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Moreover, it was not at all the kind of world that I had been told about. My cultural education since the War had been telling me a pack of lies about the class conscious world of previous centuries. This was much more pleasant than the one I had come to know; where people appeared to think they ruled their lives, but were merely work slaves of one kind or another. Here service was the rule of law: Everybody served somebody, and everybody knew their role in the scheme of things, because nobody was slave to anybody or anything. Here, people were not deceived takers, but served each other as givers. Lastly, the absence of any unpleasant class features needed explaining. It was quite possible that Frank’s criticism of racketeering, possibly freed classes of contaminating notions of false identities and economies. Having taken stock, I then attended to my ablutions, dressed, and went downstairs to face my new world order. Joiks greeted me at breakfast cheerfully, personally dealing with my orders, taking great care, and making sure I was comfortable in every way possible. I tucked in to what he put before me with great relish. This being my third breakfast, I was already feeling much better, and remembered how many people were ill in my previous world, because their delicate digestions were so completely out of order. When Mary came down, I decided to air my early morning kites, 84

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‘Mary, we are not pigs at the trough in this world, are we, merely food consumers? People must feel right about their food. Has the pig at the trough attitude called Consumerism reached these shores?’ ‘It certainly has in America, although we have not fallen for it here. Custom, which the Americans have always held in such contempt, is still our prevailing defence against folly. Our habit of trusting tradition, rather than latest fashions, always protects us from Consumerism.’ ‘I find that most encouraging,’ I replied. ‘Any attack upon custom, is nearly always a clue to those attacking us in other ways as well.’ Mary looked at me surprised. ‘I think you are much more conservative than Frank,’ and I found myself blushing. ‘I suppose I have every reason to be,’ is all I could reply. Mary, looking round the room to make sure nobody was listening, then whispered, ‘We have people who still wish to make life simpler here, so they tell us, even objecting to the rituals of Parliament, and are clueless regarding the rules of protocol. They assume humankind has come of age, and no longer needs constraints.’ ‘We tend to call them Liberals, although some call themselves Libertarians,’ I said, thinking of Lib Dems. ‘We call them simply Anarchists or Nihilists.’ ‘They are certainly suitable terms, with a certain amount of history and literature behind 85

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them. The Russians novelists were probably the first to mention them. I am surprised you have them in your midst.’ ‘No society is ever perfect enough to cater for both the perverse and the normal. One or other must come out on top. It would appear the perverse are coming out on top in your world. We have settled for the normal.’ Mary was looking at me, with a number of questions in mind. I was not sure whether I could answer them first, so decided to fly my kites, which I had often thought about, and this was the opportune moment. ‘What is normal and what is natural? Those are the questions we should be asking. By normal, we usually mean according to some norm. When we are talking about natural, we should be in a different word game. However, what is often called natural is not natural at all, but only another name for normal: It is descriptively normal. That is how Naturalism is based upon a great fallacy. My crazy world is built upon the Naturalistic Fallacy.' ‘Which is?’ ‘In confounding normative claims with descriptive ones,’ I replied, with a ready quote. ‘Which is by example?’ ‘A good example is in what philosophers call Psychologism, which they define as confusing morally normative claims, with psychologically descriptive ones.’ 86

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Mary quickly demanded examples, by questioning me with a certain slightly amused look. I had to think quickly of an example, and came back with, ‘A good example has been the claim that man is born free, without chains, when he is never free, but born with countless chains of family and other affinities, all making him chained up. We were never born free, and yet we are sold this lie. Upon this naturalistic fallacy, whole political manifestos have been based.’ ‘Please go on!’ is all that Mary could reply. ‘Another aspect of the Naturalistic Fallacy is the notion that we are all born with blank slates: which is not true at all, although social engineers want us to believe this lie. What is behind this lie? If social engineers are to achieve their aims of creating their new great nowhere, called Utopia, we all need to be born with blank slates. It is again a prescription, claiming to be description.’ ‘By that specious means Francis, they may write upon our imaginary blank slates all that they want us to be, and we are expected to confirm to what they want us to become. Again, as you say, whole political manifestos have been based upon this fallacy, and tyrannies imposed,’ ‘More than that, Mary, whole academic disciplines have been based upon this fallacy. Whole nations have been disrupted in trying to make this fallacy work. Millions have been murdered in its name. Countless applications of 87

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Tabula Rasa have been tried, although John Locke’s theory, has never worked out in practice.’ ‘Please go on!’ ‘Moreover, certain Naturalists support the following strange notions: Because we walk with our left feet, one set claim we are left footed, and another set of eccentric people notice we walk with our right feet, claiming we are right footed.’ ‘These people are called what?’ ‘These people are called Positivists. The very essence of this branch of the Naturalism is to exclude mutually uncomfortable truths from any confrontation with any reality experience: It is a form of reductive reasoning. Early logicians quite rightly called this method absurd. Despite this absurdity, it has not stopped Positivists in their tracks. These people allow themselves to know only what they may say: Knowing more is taboo. Positivism is again a specious prescription, disguised as a description.’ ‘Insinuation is what Frank called that. My father use to tell me that Positivism is merely a false epistemological method, that excludes more sensible epistemological methods from getting a word in edge ways.’ ‘Lastly! Naturalists have another facet of their fallacious creed, called Individualism, this is despite the fact we are made up of many selves, individuality is assumed. Individualism is another aspect of the Naturalist creed.’ Mary nodded agreement, concluding for me, 88

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‘Individuality is really a religious ideal, a spiritual prescription: Individualism is the product of redemption and salvation, very rarely achieved by most people. Wrongly applying this religious notion to Political Philosophy, leads to all kinds of contradictions, folly, and crass inhumanity.’ ‘Such as with naked capitalism, which is unlicensed economic freedom in the name of Individualism. Treating individuals as the units of political economy, leads to contradictory creeds, such as Liberalism, creating adverse contradictory forces within societies. Asserting certain values have overriding importance in the name of individuals, undermining and negating other very important values, hence the resulting Anarchism and Nihilism of Individualism. These adverse contradictions vanish from our political discourse, the minute we treat transactions as the correct units of political life.’ At this point, I had a sense that Mary was not entirely listening to me, but to the door. It had also become clear that she already knew what I was telling her, but wished to hear how I would express myself. She had been amused. I had also enjoyed flying my kite on Naturalism. So we both felt a little relieved, when we heard sounds that our first visitor had arrived, and rose to greet him.

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Prasad We did not have to wait long, before Joiks opened the door, and introduced Detective Inspector Prasad to Mary first, and as he shook hands with me, he instantly told me, ‘I was posted to London, to look into the nasty business of these assassinations, and have been looking forward to meeting you.’ I gestured to a chair, nodding to Joiks for refreshments for our guest, and replied, ‘Please speak freely in front of Dr. Landau, who is my assistant in most things. I am sure you have more to tell us about my accident.’ He sat down, thinking carefully and deeply, before pronouncing, ‘I certainly may tell you, officially, that your vehicle was tampered with, and that we would like to ask you a few more questions.’ ‘That is fine!’ I replied, ‘Fire away! Although you may know that I may have to draw upon Dr. Landau for some of my answers,’ at which he nodded sympathetically. ‘We understand that you chair the Frankist Study Group, working under the House of Lords Select Committee on Assassinations.’ ‘Correct!’ I replied, as blankly as I could make it. ‘This term Frankist is used because you chair the meetings: Is that not so, Sir Francis?’ ‘It is!’ I replied, again blankly.

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‘The main purpose of your Study Group is concerned with investigating whether Frankists are behind these assassinations. Is that not so?’ ‘Frankist has been a pun, concealing our true purpose of what we are doing,’ I replied less blankly, looking at Mary, wondering what would come next. ‘How many other people knew the of the true purpose of your Frankist Study Group?’ ‘Obviously, everybody in our Study Group,' I replied, with a smile at the detective, then at Mary, ‘and certain members of the House of Lords Select Committee, of course,' I added, guessing. He consulted himself, and then said, ‘Yet the true purpose of what you were doing, was much more widely known?’ he asked, with some suggestion of challenge. ‘How is that so? Mr Prasad,’ I replied, trying to be equal to the challenge. ‘We have been trying to narrow down the likely people who may wish to harm you. It is quite obvious that the most likely are the people you are investigating.’ I nodded, and replied simply, ‘So?’ ‘We have great difficulty narrowing down suspects, because so many people apparently knew of the true purpose of your Study Group.’ ‘So you would like to know now how our true purpose became widely known?’ ‘True!’ he replied, looking at both of us. Mary decided to come in at this point, 91

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‘We understand that persons unknown revealed our true purpose to a certain Member of Parliament. The product of this disclosure was that the existence of the Frankist Study Group was brought up at PMQs. As so often happens, the Prime Minister revealed much more than we would have liked. After that disclosure, it was possible for others to work out our true purpose. We have few doubts it was done deliberately.’ ‘And what was the name of the Member of Parliament, who raised the question?’ ‘William Lincoln! He is a Biblical Christian,’ Mary said with some effort. ‘Bill Lincoln thinks he knows all about the plot against civilisation.’ Mary paused, making sure Prasad understood what she was talking about. ‘Apparently, Lincoln thought that some members of our Study Group were Frankists, drew the wrong conclusions, then set about drawing attention to us.’ ‘Possibly I should talk to him, and find out who informed him about your activities,’ Prasad said, chewing on his words slightly. ‘You may have some difficulty. We have asked him,’ Mary replied, slightly alarmed. ‘There was not much he could tell us, and we had a distinct impression he knew only so much. It is even possible that the whole thing was a put-up job by the Prime Minister. He gave away much more than he needed, and enjoyed doing so.' Prasad took this all in his stride, and smiled, ‘We have the same difficulty with our own politicians in India. We are never sure whose side 92

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they are on. It is the nature of politics; everybody is corrupted by power. At least, in the case of the Commonwealth of India.’ Mary and I looked at each other, realising we had here a police officer who thought deeply about such things. He was not only a policeman. Joiks at the moment brought in a tray of what looked like Tea of a special Indian nature. We had some intimation that these two knew each other, when the Detective said, ‘Thank you John.’ Joiks left, whilst Prasad addressed his tray. He then looked at me, and said, ‘We have been taking great care to watch over you, since we found out that your vehicle had been tampered with. I visited your man John Jones last week. He is fully in touch with how we are going about looking after you, and has now informed most of your staff and family of this necessity.’ He paused, addressing his tray, while thinking over his next statement. ‘We are discreet as possible, and do not wish to discourage you from carrying on as normal,’ then in a slightly different tone of voice. ‘After all, we cannot stop you driving round in open carriages.’ ‘Is there some great danger in my doing so, Mr. Prasad?’ ‘I would rather you did not do so, but we understand there are good business and family reasons for your continuing to do so,’ pausing again. ‘None of us want to attract attention to what we know: Do we?’ I nodded. ‘So we shall 93

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have to leave a very big question mark over the cause of your accident,’ looking at me squarely, ‘by your going around as normal, this may give a false impression.’ He then sat back and looked at me for a reply. ‘Yes! I see your point,’ thinking this over. ‘My task is help you in your work, by appearing to be completely innocent of all matters regarding my accident?’ ‘Exactly!’ he replied instantly, in the clipped tone of a very experienced Indian police officer, expressing clearly, that this request was the main reason for his visit. Once he had discharged this main function, he was able to talk more freely, and had a very interesting chat for another hour or so, in which I was able to learn a lot about present day India. Prasad was obviously proud of the great diversity of governments of his Commonwealth of India, which puzzled me greatly, how our once great Indian Empire had arrived at such a state. He assured me that India was still one large country, but divided up into diverse states, that appeared to be the most natural development for India. Apparently, the corrupt Fabian elite had not managed to take over the country after the War, but a strong government in Delhi had made sure that India evolved stage by stage, in a carefully phased independence, under what was called the Chartwell Plan. It was education of the masses that had been the means of achieving this, and preserving Indian civilisation. 94

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Prasad told me that when we took over the government of India, education was far ahead of Britain. Education in India by the 1940s was our disgrace. He looked fiercely at me, when telling me this, claiming that such mass ignorance could have made any kind of independence for India a nightmare. He then told me that the post War government took education in hand first, under an astute Viceroy, before moving forward. Furthermore, he claimed, building up India upon what was already existing was the rule, not breaking up an existing order, then building up again according to some highly centralised alien creed. It was an India created in the image of the Commonwealth of India, not some jewel in the crown of the Fabian Society. Lastly, he concluded optimistically, the link with Britain had been retained, and India was an important member of the British Empire and wider Commonwealth. The vital partnership of our two countries had been a very successful, because India was equal in every way to Britain, and the rest of the Commonwealth. He told me he had been educated at Cambridge, and valued all that both countries contributed to each other. He left us only after finishing his tea, which must have been quite cold by that time, making sure I had the full picture of India. Joiks saw him out, and it was quite obvious that our meeting had concluded satisfactorily.

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Sol After Prasad's visit, we had a light lunch, still discussing Indian politics, and then retired to the library, to wait for our next visitor. Mary told me that Frank had spent quite an amount of time with Lord Dr. Solomon Bekov. They had first met at Cambridge, when Frank was in his final year, and had found his Oxford tutors somewhat limited. Sol was able to help out with Hebrew, but also with his work on cults and rackets, and with some personal problem. This mentoring was not only from any specialist knowledge that Sol had to offer Frank, but because Sol understood intuitively what Frank was exploring. Since those early days, their lively intellectual exchanges had formed the main basis of their friendly relationship. Mary also told me that these Cambridge years were also the time when Frank had met Jane, and how they immediately fell in love. Jane had up to then, only loved English literature, and after meeting Frank, she told almost everybody she met that Frank spoke English literature. Mary gave the impression that she had taken Frank for granted, knowing him since childhood, and so this insight from Jane had come as a great shock to he. Mary had become accustomed to Frank's long thoughtful silences, followed by explosions of terse exclamations, which would instantly result in heated arguments, with Mary taking a rather long time coming round to finding out what he was trying to say. Jane simply loved every minute of

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being with Frank, and listened to him intently. She did not argue with him, but simply fell in love with what he said, and the person who said these clumsy poetic things. All she wanted to do was help him get it all down on paper, into the English literature she loved. Lucky chap, I thought. My own experiences of word-bound people gave me some appreciation how lucky Frank had been. All that most people want to do is jabber all the time, and are unable to be (or think) without obsessively talking, where everything has to be reduced to mere ritualised exchanges. I have always found such small talk, very exhausting. Frank had struck lucky, and found a girl who could love the person behind his difficulty with such forms of discourse. Jane loved the meaning behind what Frank was trying to say, and the genius that expressed it. Mary was about to tell me what Sol was now doing in the House of Lords, when the great man himself arrived. Joiks showing him in with great care. Sol greeted us most cheerfully, immediately gesturing to a chair facing the window for me to sit down, and where he could face me, ‘I see a difference Francis, although so very slight, I doubt whether people will spot you are Frank's double. You are the same man certainly.’ ‘It what way am I different Sol?’ I asked, without showing too much offence. ‘Frank is much more you. He had grace. I shall guess you are not very religious, despite your recent trips to both church and chapel.’ 97

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‘True! I lost my faith in my teens, and have been unable to find true religious attachments ever since. I am devoutly religious, but not in any institutional sense. All our religious institutions appeared to turn away from what religion was all about, and this left me without support, like so many other people in my world.’ ‘That is what we would like to know about.’ ‘Oh! Why is that?’ I replied, showing I was surprised he would be interested. ‘You might know where these Sabbs are trying to take us. Knowledge of your hellish world is likely to be of vital importance to us.’ ‘Francis was telling me this morning, Shlomo’ Mary quickly interrupted, ‘how his world is intellectually based upon Naturalistic Fallacies.’ ‘Pope Leo the Thirteenth, and Father George Dillon, told us that back in the 1880s. In truth,’ turning to me, ‘naturalism was the subject of my doctoral Divinity thesis. What you are telling us is confirmation. We shall need to know more.’ ‘So you are still quite certain you are up against Sabb conspiracies?’ I asked. ‘One of the last things Frank told me was how much we needed to find out what sort of world the Sabbs are trying to create. He was obsessed with this question, and said we were living in a completeness theorem. We needed to get outside of ourselves, then look back in.’ ‘I could certainly do that for you.’ ‘Then it is agreed: Bodily, you remain a member of our Study Group?’ 98

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‘I would certainly like to be of help.’ ‘You will need to know the names of all our members?’ ‘Yes!’ ‘You know by now that Mary is a member, whose work is concerned with profiling criminal personalities.’ Mary immediately responded, ‘I have told Francis that Sabbs are our generic term, describing master criminals, who have created belief systems like the Sabbateans, with perverse articles of faith, that engender criminal characters and personality traits.’ ‘And Frankist is a term we use to describe members of families that are brought up in this perverse faith,’ then Sol added, almost whispering to me, ‘Some of these silly people believe they are gods.’ ‘I agree with that, when I remember the egotistical conceit of so many people behind the European Union; Europhiles they are called. They are pushing what is called the New World Order, and all these people have an unbelievable conceit of themselves. It was more than likely they are under the evil influence of some person who thinks he is a god.’ ‘What we would like to know is where they were going, when we ended the War in 1942, and what sort of world they were trying to create. We have always known what the Luciferati were trying to do, since the eighteenth century, when a lucky lightning strike revealed so much to the 99

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Bavarian authorities. What we do not know is the final intentions of the Sabbs, or how they differ from the ass heads.' 'Surely,’ I replied instantly, ‘the Illuminati seek to penetrate Church and State, educational institutions, Freemasonry, political life, and distort the charitable religious purpose of civilisation.’ ‘Yes, that is true,’ he insisted. ‘We also know the aims of the ass heads. It is clear to us that they still wish to place the whole world under finance capitalism, in completely private hands, and put everybody in their debt.’ ‘But for a half dozen countries, this is what they have achieved in my world, and World War Three was on the horizon when I left.’ ‘Then I shall hazard a guess, they are now manipulating all the captive countries, to make war on the remaining free countries, so to gain control over the entire world, creating further debts for all parties.’ Sol then went over to sit by Mary, gesturing to me to find a more comfortable seat, and only then deciding to tell me more about the members of the Study Group. ‘You met Dick Price yesterday evening, who was once the Pongbridge Congregational pastor. Being a sensible Cambridge man, during my days there, he naturally became the religious member of our Group. He has his own singular theories of what the unholy trinity are trying to do.’ ‘I understand that much Sol. He gave out some clues yesterday.’ 100

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‘We have Prof Martin MacDonald, who is our most informed person on conspiracies. Martin has probably studied every work on conspiracies, and has written papers galore on all aspects of Sabb rackets. Martin will be most interested in what you have to tell him, although might be sceptical about you personally.’ ‘Sol, that goes with my job!’ ‘My own contribution was welcome, because of my family background, where I have Frankist and Sabb connections, going far back. I was most fortunate in that my parents and grandparents were religious people, and deeply shocked by what they found out from other members of our family. They passed all this to me, and so inside knowledge of these evil people is in my blood.’ ‘Then you are like Benjamin Disraeli, in his relationship to his father, who passed on so much to his son. We may find out so much about secret societies, by reading both.’ I looked closely at Sol, to see what response he would make, but he merely carried on, ‘At present, we are considering inviting William Lincoln, a Biblical Christian Member of Parliament, to answer certain questions. He was instrumental in revealing the true nature of our Group to the general public. He could be helpful in understanding some aspects of our study, mostly how they are manipulating the Evangelicals, or Fundamentalists.’ ‘Fundamentalists are certainly open to all manner of manipulations,’ is all I could reply. 101

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‘Francis, we appear to agree on most things. You are closer to Frank than one could hope. That is most encouraging! Now could you come to our next meeting this evening?’ ‘The sooner the better. The sooner I get down to work, the better. You might consider that I was probably the victim of these people in my own world. My mishap was probably no accident.’ ‘Good!’ Sol replied, rising, and inspecting me closely, adding, ‘then let it be so, and do let us be friends. We have much in common to share. You need to settle in first, then we should talk.’ Sol then exchanged gestures of an intimate nature with Mary, suggesting they were related in some way, and I caught her calling him Shlomo again, quietly, under her breath, ‘I shall look forward to that,’ I replied, showing him the door, and following him into the hall, when Joiks joined us to open the main door. ‘You once turned down a seat in the Lords,’ Sol started to say, so that Joiks could hear him, ‘and we would like you to reconsider this now, when you are back with all your normal faculties, of course.’ ‘I shall always listen carefully to what my friends tell me, considering how best I may serve my country,’ is all I could reply to such a flattering proposal. Sol then left, nodding to Joiks a somewhat mischievous jovial backward look.

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Locomotives I spent the rest of Monday afternoon browsing through Frank’s library, and found out he was interested in looking at how ideas were the driving forces of history, within the minds of the key agents of change. Frank developed this theme in his The Locomotives of History, where he developed some further ideas from Rackets, and how insinuation had influenced great events in history, mentioning the great money scam as a fine example. He completely exploded the myth that history happened by accident or chance, showing how people made history happen, insinuating otherwise, resulted in an academic racket called Historicism. One example of Historicism was the art or science of ideas, called Ideology, which originally claimed that ideas were the locomotives of the historical process, and their study alone would reveal the secrets of history. Frank claimed that this insinuation was spotted very quickly, at the end of the Napoleonic Wars, and the failure of Ideology to live up to this conceit, held back intellectual history for more than a century. The discovery of this insinuation also gave Marx an excuse to refer to any false philosophy as an ideology, which was a distortion of the original meaning of Ideology. This Marxian insinuation took another century to correct. How Historicism is recursive, or self engendering, Frank explained further, and how it

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was the disciplined study of ideas that originally revealed the fallacies of Marxism in the historical process. Frank showed that ideas, in the hands of key agents of change, could do untold damage to civil society, as happened in Russia and Germany, and claimed Ideology as the science of the study of ideas is a valid study. Failures of disciplines should not give reason to abandon them, but should involve immediate revision and correction, not throwing away the baby with the dirty bath water, which only tempted abductors like Marx. Frank concluded finally that only agents of change make history happen, in a trial and error system. Calling people names, such as conspiracy theorists, for pointing this out, only conspired against discovering the true locomotives of history, and was a way of insinuating that people had no influence upon their destiny. Ideology should be a proper branch of Intellectual History, with insinuation as a central discipline, to avoid future failures. I only put this little book down, when Joiks called me for our light meal. Mary had already decided that we would walk to the Mansfield Club, which was only a short distance from Pongbourne House, and told me that our security would be handled by Joiks. He was on friendly terms with our friendly detective from the Yard, and security arrangements had been made within minutes of the Yard discovering that Frank had been the victim of another attempted murder. Joiks had to liaise carefully with the Yard every time I moved 104

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out of his care at Pongbourne House. Colin had to do the same at Pongbourne. Mary explained to me that even the Station Master at Pongbridge was informed of our security arrangements. Because I had never moved in circles, where being a member of a London club had been necessary, Mary had to tell me the ins and outs of Mansfield Club membership. Our hope was that when we arrived, it would not be very difficult my knowing what to say, where to go, what to do, giving everybody the impression I knew my way around. After memorising Mary’s instructions, I could not help remembering Frank describing rackets as conspiring to obtain money, power, and other benefits, by fraud, manipulation, and illegitimate means. All members of Frank's study group had gathered, when I arrived at the Committee Room, and instantly Mary and Sol introduced me to each one in turn. Looking at their faces, I wondered which one could possibly have been the culprit who revealed the true purpose of our study group. The Times had told me that the world had known only of the Frankist Study Group. Because of the Prime Minister's indiscretion, everybody knew we were looking into the involvement of Socialists, as well as Frankist people behind the murders. This was knowledge that I would rather have kept hidden from the general public. Because my face might have betrayed my thoughts, I decided give a voice to it, and asked, 105

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‘Has the room been properly tested for listening devices of any kind?’ Sol nodded assent to this, so I sat down. Observing they all followed my cue, I gathered that I was expected to lead the meeting. At that point I thought it best to start from the beginning of my own studies, in relating how I became involved in the study of conspiracies. ‘It was Dr. Albert Schweitzer who first introduced me to the notion that there were dark evil forces in history. This was after reading his Philosophy of History, published after the Great War. His bibliographical approach was also my introduction to Intellectual History. It was from that work that I drew Shelley’s conclusion, that true legislators are the divines, poets, and imaginative writers, not the politicians, who are merely their puppets. What we are up against are people who know this truth, and control events by undermining those who seek to reveal this secret.’ ‘What you are saying is that ideas are the locomotives of history,’ Sol replied, thoughtfully, ‘and it is those who originate ideas, largely control events, and the people of the world are largely in ignorance of this.’ ‘That is how the unholy trinity has been seeking to control the world’ Martin MacDonald agreed, ‘for over two hundred years.’ ‘That is certainly my conclusion,’ I agreed, ‘and it is because they had this insight into the intellectual workings of history, that they have 106

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been so successful in my world, where they are highly successful agents of change.’ Sol was impressed, and asked ‘So it was your own study of intellectual history that led you to secret history, or the hidden stream of history, and to the discovery of secret groups that sought to control history?’ ‘However,’ Martin added, ‘knowing how to control people is in knowing how to set up great schemes of control, in legally institutionalised ideas. Conspiring to obtain power by ideas has to be through institutions that embody that power.’ ‘Yes!’ I replied. ‘That is what is interesting about what Frank introduced you to in his first book, Rackets People Run, where he contrasted straight games versus crooked gaming. In my world there are no contrasting models. Nobody has established a paradigm of straight games, distinct from crooked gaming.’ ‘Yes!’ Mary piped in, speaking automatically, ‘We agree. Games are open, straight, and implies facing up to conflicts, which are governed by rules, and is an honourable form of play.’ ‘While rackets,’ Martin replied in the same automatic tone of voice, ‘are run by very sneaky insinuating initiation procedures, pretending there are no conflicts in the situation, are scheming by baits, hooking people into doing things against their better judgement. But where does this get us? We have been over this many times before. How does this relate to finding out who are the people behind these murders?’ 107

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‘Give Francis time Martin!’ Sol intervened. ‘This is his first session with us, and he needs to find out where we are agreed. Going by what he has said so far, he agrees with us.’ I nodded round the room to everybody, and decided to push on regardless, ‘What I shall tell you is how this unfair racket model of government does not work, and the game model does. You live it, and see it works. The racket model has never worked, and we have seen this when rackets predominate in any society. Crime works when crooked elements are parasitical upon the rest of society, forming an amoral and immoral minority. What criminals are not able to do is establish civil human society based upon their mode of life.’ ‘True! They are antithetical to society,’ Dr. Price agreed. ‘Some degree of crime is the price we have to pay for the liberty we enjoy within a free civil society,’ Sol replied. ‘However,’ Martin replied, ‘criminals cannot bear liberty, except for themselves. They always cheat the rest of us, left, right, and centre.’ ‘True!’ I replied. ‘However, it is this inability of criminals to run a viable civil society that is their main weakness. They always need a moral majority to run things, whilst they cheat us. When they are successful politically, they are total and utter failures.’ ‘That is certainly a paradox,’ Dr. Price replied, surprised. 108

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‘That is because criminal personalities are total failures as civil human beings,’ Mary added. ‘What I have to tell you is how they have been highly successful in the world where I come from,’ I continued. ‘That means you are about to tell us how your society has become a complete failure,’ Dr Price replied. ‘Possibly you could give us a clue to be getting on with. What is it about your society that we should know about first?’ Martin asked plainly. ‘I shall start you off with one observation: Of all the rackets listed in Frank's book, it was Comparative Equivalence which resonated most with me. It is a racket that pervades every aspect of our life. We have called its manifestation the Permissive Society. It prevents ordinary people seeing criminals clearly, by immunising delinquent behaviour from being seen as such.’ ‘Frank called Comparative Equivalence the Chalk and Cheese Racket,’ Mary added. ‘True!’ I replied. ‘Our comparing chalk with cheese is ridiculous. They are different categories. We know good from bad, and divine from evil. We should never try to compare good with evil, but should compare good with bad. It is because most religious notions have been driven underground in my world, that values are all mixed up. Our world is full of category mistakes, such as good and evil. This makes it easy for criminal ventures, without moral censure, or even criminal visibility.’ 109

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‘By divine,’ Dr. Price suggested, ‘you mean pertaining to a benign ultimate concern: The aim of our Hebraic or Christian society.’ ‘Yes!’ I replied. ‘The notion of the divine has been banished from public discourse, and that is one pertinent aspect of Comparative Equivalence.’ ‘Such pervasive relativism drives moral life underground,’ Dr. Price quickly suggested. ‘Indeed!’ I replied, ‘Law is the only resource in dealing with moral problems. We still have our old British freedoms, but little moral sensitivity in large areas of our personal and public life. So law has to take up the moral slack, and the result is the road to tyranny.’ ‘An objective benign conscience has been banished from both personal and public life,’ Dr. Price concluded, satisfied he understood what I was claiming. ‘And you are quite sure this is deliberate?’ Martin asked, ‘Somebody has made this happen?’ ‘There is enough evidence,’ I replied, looking at Sol for a response. ‘There is evidently a definite evil common purpose in the racket you observe. Is that so?’ Sol asked me quietly. ‘Yes!’ I replied simply. ‘Is it possible these assassins are killing off people who are the defenders of our values; our moral leaders?’ Dr. Price asked thoughtfully. ‘Yes!’ I replied, relieved Dr. Price was acute in spotting where I was leading. ‘Could we make a start looking in that direction? If I am wrong, we 110

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may have to go deeper into what life is like in my world.’ ‘Could you do that all the same,’ requested Martin. ‘We could introduce you to our history, and discover where it differs.’ ‘Could we make a start now,’ I replied, ‘and we may then find out more.’ We then spent some time covering where our two worlds differed, and they straight away told me that the War had ended in 1942, in their world. I then had to explain how the War had gone on for another three years, where large areas of Europe had come under Communism. They all agreed, that was the whole purpose of the War. They financed Hitler, so to bring down Stalin, and the same side that was supporting communism. Sol summed it up, ‘It mattered little which side won, they were in control in both cases. It was only by making peace, could all sides get to the bottom of the real causes of the War. That is what we did, and we have never really looked back on that right turn in history. You have sadly lived through what would have happened, if we had not made peace with Germany in 1942.’ After hearing Sol say this, I felt completely drained. Mary immediately told me this distress was probably psychic fatigue, and the result of my sensing the horrors of my own world. This was true. My vision of the waste of life was still very 111

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difficult to accept. It was a matter of thinking and feeling so deeply through this experience. I had to ask everybody, ‘Could we all meet at Pongbourne House tomorrow morning, for a working breakfast?’ and they all agreed to this sympathetically, and we broke up soon after.

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Chalk, cheese, and corruption After returning from our meeting at the Mansfield Club, I retired immediately, slept very soundly again, and woke refreshed the following Tuesday morning. My thoughts were upon the day, and I took stock immediately, in preparation for our talk over breakfast. What surprised me mostly, was how I was fitting in with all the people I had met so far. I had lived a modest life up to then. Here I was the same person, addressed as Sir Francis Roberts, but now moving in circles of national importance. This insight helped me reflect on the dreadful things that had happened to my previous world. Although I knew Robison's Proofs of a Conspiracy, my insights were still blocked off by what I had taken for granted. This was a great shock to me. Insights came only by comparing realities. What I remembered of my old world now shocked me. Over another delightful breakfast, Sol asked me whether I had fresh insights. I replied, ‘Yes Sol, I do begin to see some aspects of a Sabb plot; Fabianism! The Sabbs must have worked hard causing a coup d'etat by instalments. The Fabians merely fronted for them.’ ‘Fabians have always had very clever and mysterious people working for them,’ Martin replied. ‘These people have always known they could only corrupt civil societies by a slow process of undermining.’

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‘I suppose they knew that intelligence is never a defence against folly. It is more often the reverse,’ Sol quickly replied. ‘They only required one highly intelligent warped soul, to spread his fallacious reasoning amongst other like-minded souls, and we had the conspiring seeds of what we were talking about yesterday.’ ‘Yes! I agree,’ Martin replied ‘Their nonsense probably started with delinquent elements playing with words in Continental lodges; intelligent lodge men, engaged in all manner of intellectual follies.’ ‘With foolish specious arguments, supported by silly spurious illogic,’ Sol added, dismissively. ‘And that is how they established racket institutions, throughout the last two centuries,’ Martin replied. ‘Yes!’ Sol replied. ‘We found out yesterday that one racket institution had to concentrate on immunising Masonic communities from finding out how they were being hooked.’ ‘These Insinuating Brethren are a typical fungus type operation,’ Martin added, ‘as Prof Robison described so well in his Proofs.’ ‘Going by their success with this one racket institution,’ I replied, ‘Comparitive Equivalence, they are now in their final stages in my world. In your world, they must have had setbacks. That is why people are so full of self confidence, relaxed, and do not feel under any threat. On the other hand, in my world, everybody feels threatened.’ ‘How is that so?’ Mary asked. 114

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‘Because of the anxiety over money,' I replied, rather impatiently. ‘Anxiety over money is a condition they must create.’ ‘We have barely compared histories with you Francis,’ Mary replied rather sharply, sensitive to my impatience. ‘Yes! We must make a start with that,’ I replied more calmly. ‘We may never make sense of either of our two worlds, without our making comparisons. Why the Cheese and Chalk Racket? Obvious! It is a way of making any kind of moral evaluation difficult. Values have to appear all the same in a world of moral relativism. Delinquents cannot operate in a world where there are moral values opposed to them, but need to corrupt human society in such a way that they may operate undetected.’ ‘So as we agreed, Comparative Equivalence is a deliberate social amoral filtering process,' Dr. Price stated, 'to immunise people from knowing the ill effects of the incrimination of a mass of influential people behind the scenes.’ Mary was not quite sure how to respond, and looked at the others first, then reported, ‘After our meeting yesterday, we went through the list of the murders so far, and found that over half of them were people with strong moral leadership qualities. We shall need to look at the other half, to see how they may have some bearing on what you suggested yesterday.’ ‘These figures are probably enough to pass to the House of Lords Select Committee,’ I replied 115

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to Mary, then taking up Sol’s point further, ‘Lastly, even the most intelligent criminals are foolishly short sighted in the sort of society they are trying to create. What they do not want to know is how their ideal criminal society is not going to work. It has been tried countless times before, yet they still try again. They are political and psychological duffers. They are trying to establish a society that will never work.’ ‘Because it is like them,’ Mary added. ‘Crime is admitting a failure,’ Sol added. ‘Like them!’ I echoed. ‘Criminals are moral failures. Crooked people may only live off the successful moral earnings of straight people. We are providing them with their living. Drug pushers depend on societies that generates enough money to support them. Undermine those societies, and they lose their income. Very few parasites are invested in the deaths of their victims, because parasites depend on live hosts. It is obvious that most intelligent criminals have never thought through this paradox.’ ‘Our blindness has been in not seeing this paradox,’ Dr. Price stated thoughtfully, ‘and how this has influenced our history since the War. Nobody has ever expressed it so clearly, and how this was the hidden factor in our religious revival.’ ‘Which was a reaction to the failures of the criminal regimes in Europe,’ Martin added. ‘My greatest difficulty in the past has been my inability in accepting that Fabians could be criminal in their ultimate purpose. The welfare 116

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bait waived at us, blinded us all from seeing the hook behind the bait.’ Martin thought that out carefully, gesturing first, then replied, ‘We did study the early history of the Fabians, when we were still under German Nazi influence, shortly after the War. This period provided us with a window that made it possible to look at the Fabians as hostile. Mind you, we were barely able to see who were behind them.’ ‘I must tell you that it was never intended by the Frankists or Sabbs, that this degree of revelation should come about,’ Sol replied. 'The Sabbs lost control over what everybody was able to find out about them.’ ‘This has never happened in my world,’ I continued, ‘looking at it from my perspective. Churchill was surrounded by Frankist and Sabb people all his life, and so was Roosevelt. Many of their friends were Fabians, who pushed through their legislation, both sides of the Atlantic. I have often wondered whether they were more closely connected with these dark forces.’ ‘With us, sufficient suspicion was with us,’ Sol replied quietly. ‘They had a commonality of family origins, and that knowledge contributed to ending the War. People reform under pressure.’ ‘I agree. This suspicion certainly helped end the War,’ Dr. Price added ‘You understand, Francis, Churchill was not an easy man to take out as Prime Minister,’ Martin declared, ‘but the King and Regent made an offer 117

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to Winston Churchill, which Lord Chartwell found very difficult refusing.’ ‘Our European War ended in May 1945, and ended in the Far East a little later,’ I replied. ‘Our War with Germany,’ Sol explained, ‘ended completely by the end of 1942, and our war with Japan ended by the following January. Ending both wars was not very tidy, because Japan helped us bring down Stalin first, by invading Siberia. The Japanese stalemate with America, brought America out of the War. It was a great period of enlightenment,’ Sol explained, ‘and we found out many things. What I remember most about this period was how everybody was so angry at finding out how both the American and British governments were being used by these dark hidden forces. Another war had come upon us, and it had all been contrived by the ass heads and their minions. We then found how our great leaders had been great chumps, not champions. Churchill became Viscount Chartwell, with a good income as Viceroy of India, which kept him out of financial mischief.’ ‘They made him an offer he found very difficult to refuse,’ Martin repeated. ‘It was much more difficult getting rid of Roosevelt,’ Sol continued. ‘Although once Rudi Hess replaced Hitler as German Chancellor, further details were brought into the public domain,’ Martin added. ‘When everybody found out how Wall Street had financed Nazi Germany and the Soviet Union,’ 118

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Mary joined in, ‘Roosevelt was retired, along with all his Sabb friends.’ ‘Roosevelt died shortly after that,’ Sol added, ‘the full story was never fully explored.’ ‘What happened to Hitler,’ I asked. ‘He was President of Germany for a time,’ Sol replied, ‘but that did not last long. It was found from our initial researches, how much he was probably implicated in the plan to murder millions of Jews, who would not leave Germany and Eastern Europe for Palestine.’ ‘The Sabbs had an infamous Transfer Agreement with the Nazis,’ Martin added quickly. ‘Ah! I remember,’ recalling Edwin Black's book on The Transfer Agreement. What they had said made sense to me, because I had also read Double Standards - The Rudolf Hess Cover-up, by Picknett, Prince, and Prior. ‘Rudolf Hess originally came over to tell us about the Sabb plan,’ Sol explained, ‘but the other side got hold of Hess first. In spite of this setback, we persuaded the Churchill government to send a double back to Germany.’ ‘This enabled us to switch bodies,’ Martin added, and it was the real Rudolf Hess who went back to Germany to make peace.' 'Who are we?' I asked everybody. Everybody in the room looked at each other, at a loss what to say, then looked at Sol, who thought very carefully for a time, then looked resolved to tell me all, 119

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‘It included everybody of importance, from the Regent down, called the Peace Party. I was employed by the Polish government in exile, along with Mary's father. Your father was in close liaison with us, and worked directly for the Duke of Kent, who become the King of Poland after the War.’ ‘I am getting the picture,’ I replied. ‘In my world, the Duke of Kent was killed in an accident, and Hess spent the rest of his days in prison.’ ‘That is what the Sabb side intended,’ Dr. Price replied. ‘That flight was one of the great turning points of modern history, when the dark forces did not get their way.’ ‘It is beginning to make sense,’ I replied. ‘It might make sense of my bad dream on Saturday. When was Hess flown back to Germany?’ ‘The day after Churchill arrived back from making his infamous deals with Joseph Stalin. It was 25 August, 1942,’ Sol replied precisely. ‘My birthday,’ I replied. ‘How on earth did they manage to fly to Germany in the middle of the War?’ Sol instantly replied to that, ‘They were on a radio beam to Sweden, and on arrival, Hess had to reestablish his influence over the AO and Oberland networks, that is before persuading Hitler to stand down as Chancellor, which was the beginning of the difficult process of reestablishing constitutional government in Germany. The Sabbs tried to sabotage the plane. It nearly crashed after picking Hess up. Despite this, they managed to make their way.’ 120

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‘That flight was a miracle,’ Dr. Price exclaimed. ‘and it is difficult knowing what would have happened if that plane had not arrived in Sweden, so ending the War.’ ‘Sol just told me the answer to that, Dr. Price,’ I replied. ‘My world is what happened.’ ‘That is what Frank wanted to know,’ Mary replied, ‘and was always trying to find out the date of the turning point of modern history.’ ‘He might know that by now,’ I replied. ‘Let us hope he might do something about it.’

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A civilising journey We spent the rest of that morning comparing histories, and I would have to write another book to tell you what we found out. However, I had to leave for Pongbourne, directly after an early lunch, so we continued tying up loose ends in comparing histories. I was still seeking to discover the exact time when my world differed from theirs. My first impression was that it was from the date of my birth, 25 August 1942, but that did not entirely make sense to me at the time. Our histories certainly appeared to differ from the time when that plane crashed, as it had done in my own world, although in their world it had flown all the way to Sweden. It is now clear to me that history is not entirely linear, because our worlds only started to differ from that point onwards. We shared the same histories before that date. For instance, Mary was ten days older than me, and so the same Mary should be common to both my worlds. However, it became clear to me that I was not entirely common to her world. Sol talked of possible space-time paradoxes. How could an event change possibilities in such a way that we now had such differing worlds? Dr. Price was fascinated with this question, and said we were merely ideas in the Mind of Our Maker: All of us are God's incarnations. Our possibilities are infinite. We are not automatons, doing what He scripted for us, where only one world could be possible. God is a singularity, a

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pluralist, and prefers to give us the gift of freedom, which implies plural worlds. Our script is certainly there in our genes, and we have the freedom to evolve (under Grace) in accordance to His laws, called Epigenesis. However, we have our free abilities to go against His laws, which Dr. Price called Paragenesis, declaring in effect that my world was paragenetic, or a graceless world. 'Highly pathological!' they all exclaimed, with a certain degree of humour. I had to agree with them. We then discussed how far their own world was not quite right. This discussion went on throughout lunch. We only broke up, when I had to leave for Pongbourne. When I left them, Mary came with me in the car to Paddington, and allowed me a few precious moments of silence. I could not help looking at the fascinating world around me with more fresh insights. It was a world that was closer to what God intended, in Dr. Price's terms. Where I came from, differed much further. This made a sense, and was a religious way of looking at it, but could be translated into secular terms. Our true nature was better served by living like what I saw around me, explaining why all these people had so much more confidence, were more relaxed, less tense, and much more singular. Psychotherapists had often talked about self actualisation, and of self realisation in their chatter. Self actualisation and realisation appeared to be a way of life here, not an aim that had to be pursued in compensation. 123

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Here was a world where everybody found some degree of self-fulfilment, which led to finding meaning in true religious ideals, of redemption, true salvation, and individuality. Mary woke me from my slumbers, when we arrived at Paddington Station, to instruct me what to say to Phibbs. My appointment with Phibbs was directly after coming off the train, and I needed to know which Phibbs would be seeing me. Phibbs, Phibbs, and Phibbs, were a family partnership in my grandfather's day, and had been our family solicitors for generations. Mary informed me that this was still the case, and I would be seeing the same Phibbs who was at school with me, before we had to leave Pongbourne. His son was now in partnership with him, and although his father was retired, he still came in now and again to do Trust work for them. Mary told me that their old house rules were that client and solicitor still addressed each other in formal terms, although they might be on the most friendly, intimate terms outside the office. Mary saw me to my compartment, and waited until Prasad suddenly turned up. He came to make sure my security arrangements were all in order. He was clearly not taking any chances, or leaving the task to others. I did my best to give the impression I was taking it all in good part, and quite confident in his ability to deal with anybody who might desire to kill me. My compartment was soon filling up with people, and once Prasad was satisfied everything was in place, he left. 124

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I soon settled down to my thoughts, and our train was soon making a graceful slide out of Paddington Station. This never ceases to give pleasure to those who travel by steam. The hustle and bustle of the diesel world I had come from was now in the past. This graceful form of travel was much more to my liking, as it was obviously to the liking of everybody I could see around me. Two children had managed to acquire seats by the window, with the intention of following every aspect of our journey. They had little books to take notes, with other books by which to recognise different locomotives. At the start, they had not seen the locomotive pulling our train, so their first task was to wait until the carriages turned corners, then peep out, trying to make out what locomotive was up front. After both them of had taken their peep, this resulted in consultation with their books, argument over conclusions, and then jotting down their differing views, to check later. This would be when they were able to visit the engine driver at the front of the train. This activity did not distract my thoughts at all, and I found their company relaxing: Such childhood activity was civilising at its best. The rest of the passengers were engaged, either in conversation, or reading, and it was very difficult making out which could be my baby sitters. I had not bought reading matter myself, so one elderly person passed me her magazine, after only a short read herself. Soon others were doing the same. So by the time I had arrived at 125

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Pongbridge, I had become very well informed, and on a great variety of subjects and views. I formed an impression that the proprietors of these journals and magazines had a more personal interest in their readers, than I was used to seeing. They were all professionally produced, and were not by any means the product of what we call cottage industries. However, they were all lacking in commercial bait: lurid detail, sexy art work, subliminal messages, covertly undermining what was said overtly. They said what they were paid to say, and were not out to cheat the reader of what they were saying. I was surprised how more interesting these journals and magazines were, and drew the correct conclusion that the authors said exactly what was in their mind, because of the lack of a commercial agenda. The abandonment of the worship of money would appear to have had a very beneficial effect upon the media, and contributed much to civilisation.

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Phibbs, Phibbs, and Phibbs To my surprise, it was Dawes who met me on the platform at Pongbridge Station, and he appeared pleased to see me. I was also appreciative that he was relieved to see me, and we instantly decided to walk to Phibbs, Phibbs, and Phibbs on foot, arranging with Jinx that he would pick us up later. Dawes wished to consult Mr Phibbs over some estate business, and my presence was needed. It was very pleasant walking through the streets of Pongbridge, and I could not help noticing the absence of poisonous noise and pollution. It was possible to talk to Dawes, without shouting. When we arrived, I instantly remembered the middle Mr Phibbs, when we entered his office, and we were soon exchanging pleasantries. Mary had wisely informed him of my true identity, and he dealt with Dawes in a kind, polite businesslike way, bringing me into their discussion, when he thought we should follow his advice. Dawes was able to leave, totally satisfied with our transactions at the end of this business. Phibbs then gestured to a chair, ‘Dr. Landau told me your story on Saturday, and I was not surprised. I was less surprised than I thought I should be.’ ‘Our agreement is that people in the know call me Francis, and we call my other soul, Frank.’ ‘It is a convention in this office that we always call you Sir Francis, the same as we called your father Sir John, your grandfather Sir Francis,

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and you always call us Phibbs in this office. It keeps our relationship strictly on a business footing. It was started centuries ago….’ ‘… Over some lady problem,’ I interrupted. ‘It was contrived as a way of avoiding contempt and over familiarity, when transacting business.’ ‘True! Outside of business hours, the rules of love and war prevail. Here it is business as usual,’ he replied, and we both laughed. I was going to like this gentle man, and we decided to get down to business straight away. ‘You took some important papers of mine, Phibbs, and I am wondering what they are.’ ‘Yes! More than papers, Sir Francis, I took the Rose Box as well,’ going over to a cupboard, unlocking it, and then bringing a box larger than a dispatch box to his desk. Then unlocked his desk, and retrieved a key. ‘You should find another key like this in your study, and that Frank kept his key in a safe place. The Rose Box was placed where everybody could see it, although the content was of a private nature.’ He then put the key back in his desk, and carefully locked it. ‘This is to do with what business, Phibbs?’ ‘I understand that Dr. Landau is assessing how much to tell you at present. However, we understand the papers inside are mostly where Frank kept his most personal papers.’ ‘It all sounds very secretive to me, Phibbs.’ ‘Only of a personal and private nature, Sir Francis. Certain relationships in life are personal and private, such as religious affiliations. Frank 128

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had many of those, and the Rose Box was where he filed away matters of that nature.’ ‘Shall I take the box away with me today?’ ‘I understand that Dr. Price is coming down tomorrow to discuss business with you? So is Prof Martin: Matters concerning the Frankist Group?’ ‘True, Phibbs!’ I replied, puzzled that he knew this. How did Phibbs know that? Mary told me at the very last moment at Paddington. He made no attempt to explain, and simply said, ‘I shall bring the box over to you then,’ he suggested. ‘Shall we say around ten thirty, after Dr. Price arrives in Pongbridge. We could all come over together. Both were present when I removed the box, after Frank's accident, and it is fitting they should see its return.’ ‘Fine! Fine!’ I replied. ‘Is there any other business to discuss Phibbs?’ ‘Yes, there is. My son handles your son's business, and has intimated to me that your son is now considering remarriage.’ I nodded to go on. ‘We now need to discuss matters concerning the settlement of his proposed marriage. You need to inform me what arrangement you would like me to make.’ He looked at me, not quite sure what to expect in reply. ‘I think it would best for me to discuss this with Jack first, then we could take this further.’ Phibbs thought for a few minutes, then spoke in a more careful tone of voice, 129

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‘Jack and Frank had arguments a few months before Frank's accident. Jack eventually went to America to cool down. However, these arguments were not over any proposed marriage, but over differences of opinion, over personalities that Frank trusted, but Jack did not.’ ‘Please tell me more?’ I asked. ‘The name Jack mentioned was Solomon Bekov: which brings me to my last item. I am told that Jack was approached by a certain Member of Parliament, William Lincoln, who was trying to meet Frank, just before his accident. This meeting never took place I understand, and Frank had his accident shortly after that. Jack was very upset at the loss of his mother. Once he realised his father was going to recover only over a much longer time, he decided to make himself scarce in America, leaving matters unresolved.’ ‘Did Mr Lincoln get in touch with you?’ ‘No! However, he did get in touch with my son. What he had to tell him was very disturbing, according to my son.’ ‘I had best now let you arrange a meeting between Mr. Lincoln and myself, and see where that leads.’ ‘I shall put that in hand, Sir Francis’ Phibbs replied, taking notes. ‘You could see him here, in our offices, or at Pongbourne?’ ‘Any such meeting had best be here Phibbs,’ I replied, rising from my chair. ‘I think that is all, Sir,’ he said, also rising. ‘May I go now, Phibbs?’ I pleaded ironically. 130

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‘Sir, you may go!’ equally ironically. We shook hands, both of us smiling at our naive fun, and I took my leave, with the firm knowledge that I had found another decent friend. I met Dawes and Jinx outside the main door of solicitors' offices, with the carriage waiting for me. They had put up the top, because rain was coming on again, and started almost immediately we were seated. We drove home in pelting rain, and talked about all manner of things, except anything to do with business.

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Percy Talbot Dawes had warned me that Percy had arrived, and so I was not that surprised, when Percy was the first person I met, as I ran from the carriage. He was showing what could be called complete disregard for the weather, and walking about in the rain. He always appeared to me as if he had recently clambered through a number of hedges. Age had not changed him. He made up for his lack of brains, by taking up more space than was normally necessary, and like some wild animal, left his messy marks all over the place. I greeted Percy in the best way I could, with a slight reserve, knowing that telling him it was raining, would only result in some empty gesture of contempt for the elements. Agnes was looking on, with a mixture of amiable tolerance and humorous forbearance, and I could see how she possessed Percy as an article of fun, with only the slightest concern for other people. I threw my hands up in gestures of hopelessness, and quickly ran from the scene, up to my rooms. Colin was already in my dressing room, preparing my change of clothes, and told me of our arrangements for dinner. He also told me how things had been since I left. Today, Lord Talbot had only just had high tea, when he took his constitutional walk, rain or no rain. Colin found Percy great fun, and was in a giggly state, which he had picked up from Agnes. After he calmed down, he narrated how this visitation had come

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about: Percy had fallen out with his housekeeper, who had left his service in a huff, and then he had been left in a rambling palace of a place, making his usual mess, without anybody clearing up after him. The Talbot's butler was very conveniently on holiday, with no forwarding address, and so his lordship decided to escape to Pongbourne. Colin was all admiration for Agnes, and her abilities to manage such an impossible man. She had also instilled a sense of fun into everybody, which made up for Percy's disruption. I then heard of the countless instances of what our noble guest was capable of doing. It soon became evident to me that Percy's visitation had come almost like a holiday to our staff, providing the necessary break with our usual ordered life. I listened to Colin in silence, with occasional laughs, dressing quite appropriately, according to the careful instructions from Agnes, modified by Colin, and with my agreement, of course. By the time Colin had finished with me, I was resigned to a pleasant break with normality. It would make a change, and I thought how fools are the empty set of any ordered society. Before dinner, I decided to spend an hour or two in my study first, before venturing out into the unknown. Colin had arranged for Jill to come over to help me sort out a few things, and provide me with a few clues how to handle Percy. I gave a mock salute to Agnes, as I made my way into my study, gesturing to my attire, to make sure she had seen how compliant I was to her wishes. She 133

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nodded, and went back into the living room. I could see a number of The Times in the usual place, and piles of letters on the desk. Some had been opened, with a reply from me already typed out. I quickly settled down to business, and managed to dispatch most of it by the time Jill arrived, who looked even more lively. She was obviously enjoying having her Uncle Percy staying with us, and found him great fun. ‘They are going back tomorrow morning. Aunt Agnes has been in touch with the butler, who managed to contact the other Mrs Walsh, and pacify her. Totteridge should be back to normal by the time they arrive back.’ ‘What is normal, Jill, with your Uncle Percy?’ ‘Oh! He is great fun really. The children love him, and he tells them things nobody else does,’ Jill replied, smiling at me, with a challenging look. I wisely decided to move on, and discuss with her the business in hand. ‘I have Phibbs coming over tomorrow morning, with a few others, and they should be here by ten thirty. It would be great if we could to dispatch all our business before they arrive, because they will no doubt stay to lunch.’ ‘Daddy, we should be able to dispatch your business by ten, and I shall be most interested in meeting your mysterious people,’ throwing it out, like another challenge, ‘I suppose it is another meeting of the Rose?’ ‘Jill, you know more about such things.’ 134

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‘They met here the day after you had your accident, and removed the rose box grandfather always kept by the window. Jack and I have always wondered what was in it,’ looking at me with a questioning look. ‘It would appear I shall find out tomorrow,’ I replied blankly, and left it at that. When we had finished, we decided to join the others, and walked into our large drawing room, where the whole family were assembled. The children were thoroughly enjoying themselves, all being as close to Percy as was humanly possible, who was telling them a story. I walked over to Agnes, and very briefly touched her hands. It was a gesture that seemed to be right for that occasion, and I then took my place next to a very serious looking young man, who turned out to be Percival, the eldest son of Agnes and Percy. It was his children who were listening to Percy, along with Jill's two. I engaged Percival in small talk first, and soon found he was not like his father at all. We talked about Jack coming home tomorrow, and bringing his bride to be. Her name was Delphine he told me, evidently knowing them both very well, and was in regular correspondence with them. Percival talked good sense, spoke with quiet short incisive sentences, almost inaudible at times, and I often had to ask him to repeat what he said. What I was able to find out from Percival, was often confirmation of much of what I was able to discover from Sol over the following week. 135

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Percival was a Tory, like his parents, and spoke of being a Whig Tory, who were mainly responsible for the passing of the Usury Acts. He considered himself an ally of the Whigs. Frank had kept Percival informed. He quickly told me how much he knew about the secret institutions of the State, and I was able to glean much information from him. Percival assumed that I needed him to tell me what I had forgotten, and so was pleased to oblige, and to tell me how much he knew. What surprised me most, was how very open Percival was in what told me, explaining how I (being Frank of course) had used mnemonic devices in telling him what he knew about the Illuminati and Masonic community. At the outset, I gathered that Percy and Percival were in the Brotherhood, and the two terms that interested me most, were ‘trance states’ and how people were ‘entranced’ by these secret institutions. Although Percival spoke openly about this to me, he narrated this in his inimitable quiet voice, never saying anything above a whisper. My first impressions of these institutions was they were not now entirely secret, but rather accepted by everybody as meeting what Percival called civil bonding, and why trance states were important. What interested me first, was how he explained the existence of the Illuminati, which was now well known by everybody in the lower reaches of Masonic communities, explaining the English ascendency of how 'toffs’ had organised Freemasonry throughout the world. He was 136

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closely involved with the Blue Illuminati, which I assumed were the old White Anglo-Saxon upper reaches of Regular Freemasonry. But he told me there was no autonomous blue lodge system, called 'regular Freemasonry,' because this had become fully infiltrated by Secret Masters, and exotic Continental degrees. The Blue has a fight on their hands. In America there was what Percival called the White Illuminati, which was apparently the upper reaches of the Scotch Knights or Templars. He implied that they were troublesome to the Blue, and spat out 'Sparticism' to me, which was loud enough to attract the attention of Agnes. He then continued telling me quietly how the White Illuminati had been infiltrated by the Black (German Fascist/Jesuitical/Nazi), and their supposedly opposite dialectic, the Red (old Soviet Rosicrucian) Illuminati members, following the great Sabb migration, after the 1939-1942 War. Lastly, although Freemasonry was supposed to have a secret wheels within wheels structure, like the old RAF roundel, the truth was different. Nobody knew who was really Red, White, or Blue, and certainly not Black or White, even within Blue British Freemasonry. However, I quickly inferred, by Percy's quiet calm manner, that the Blue were again the most powerful influence throughout the Masonic world. The picture that Percival painted was of a Masonic game that was now known by everybody. Nobody was in ignorance what game they were playing. He said that conflict was now 137

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central to understanding of what they were doing. Freemasonry, as graft racket, was more difficult to run nowadays, because everybody knew about rackets, and how they operated in the real world. Nobody fell for the old story that people met in secret to perform mummeries, purely for their own amusement, or esoteric knowledge. Percival ended by saying that absolute power corrupted absolutely, and secret power was even more corrupting than absolute power. It was evil, because such power made any remedy or redemption almost impossible. Only the most corrupt criminal personalities in any community seek that kind of power. From this narration, it became clear that there had been a massive world wide clean up of the whole Masonic community, led by the Blue, and why the Blue had influence. Freemasonry was now a game, in the real sense of the term, not a graft racket, and everybody knew what they were playing. I had serious doubts, listening to Percival, knowing how naïve members of the Brotherhood tend to be. However, he expressed an attitude of mind, which would surely have some influence. If this honest gamey spirit grows, it could turn the whole business of secret power round, and create acceptable faces of the Masonic community, or even the Illuminati. We then went into dinner together, and Agnes took charge of where we all sat. I sat at the head of the table, with Agnes at the other end, with Percy on my left, and Percival on my right. 138

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The children were all seated in various places, and I could not work out her logic first. The children appeared quite uninhibited in Percy's company, and there was never a dull moment, as one might say. The conversation was instructive, lively, and put me in touch with practically every aspect of what concerned the various age groups. I did not have much to contribute to the conversation, and very prudently followed the flow, coming in when I could say something that did not give myself away. Percival was always supportive, and I did my best not to let him down. His high opinion of my wisdom was flattering. He also treated his father with great respect, which was reflected in better behaviour. It then became obvious that Percival had a parental influence on Percy, and that is why Agnes placed him facing his father. We broke up when the children had to leave, and Percy saw them off to their beds, telling them more stories on the way, to their great delight. We then spent the rest of the evening talking in the drawing room. Percy joined us later, and just before settling down to play cards with Agnes, he, looking at me fiercely, shot a question, ‘The children are asking, where is Aunt Mary, very persistently.’ I must have coloured a little, because he quickly attended to picking up his cards. I replied calmly, 139

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‘Mary is in London, and should be coming back to Pongbourne tomorrow.’ Percy nodded sheepishly, and looked at Agnes, who did her very best to pretend she had not heard anything.They then played cards for the rest of the evening. We finally broke up, only when these two had finished playing, and my conversations with Percival had exhausted every topic. There was so much I found out from Percival, which was helpful in dealing with Sol the following week. Percival was always helpful in reminding me of things, which he assumed I had forgotten, and I have to admit that my fraudulent position still worried me at this time. Despite this, I felt very much at home, which was very strange. After only three days, I was beginning to accept this rich family life as real, and my other world, appeared unreal, and even unbelievable. Such were my thoughts, when we finally went to bed.

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The Rose Box I woke the following Wednesday morning, with no feelings of apprehension or tension at all, and felt unbelievably relaxed. I had not known this state since early childhood. Everywhere appeared more still and solid, as I drew the bedroom curtains, and looked out upon the day. My view was like a painting, where I could study every detail, and everywhere was a work of art. Even colours were more vivid than the day before. The pure joy of it made me wonder what had brought this about. Will this state of being last? What does this mean? Why now? Colin brought me my breakfast at the usual time, telling me that our guests would be leaving around nine, and that I should be ready by that time. Agnes had left few other final instructions. So I settled down to The Times, before eating my delicious breakfast. The Times covered the story that the Lords now thought the people murdered were usually of some great influence upon the moral life of the nation, although gave no reasons for drawing their conclusion. The Editorial then concentrated on the difficulties of knowing who were at risk, how to police their security, and covered this aspect thoroughly. The second Editorial dealt with the American economy, which was subject to a deep recession. It was claimed that this had no effect upon the rest of the world. This was put down to the degree

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of autarky achieved by most countries. This term 'autarky' surprised me at the time, because I remember it was a term much used during the time of the Third Reich. The Times accepted this term as denoting a highly desirable state of affairs. The American problems were attributed to their continued inability to break free from the Federal Reserve System, international money markets, and their refusal to return to constitutional government. It was their own fault, The Times concluded. The last Editorial was a skit on a satirical play, then running in the West End, and about to cross the Atlantic. The play was highly subversive of Whig American values, and made fun of Tory satirists versus the Whig parodists. I concluded from this, that the philosophy of the people of the United States of America were to be made a great laughing stock, for holding beliefs the rest of the world had abandoned decades ago. The play was a satirical parody on the illuminated ones, and how their Utopias never turn out as planned. Their foolish act of putting their trust in crooks, was the cause of so many of their failures. I remember the last sentence very well. "Escapists never manage to do very well, because they never know how to start from where they are. Failures in life only know how to dream the sleep of reason. Those who cross over the seas to unspoiled lands, only take with them what they were escaping from; their own failure to make a success of civil life." 142

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That appeared somewhat too severe at the time, but I thought The Times probably had good reasons for making such comments. Because of, or despite this, I tucked in, enjoying my breakfast all the more, then dressed quickly, ready to see my guests safely away. As I went down the stairs, I was dreading what new catastrophe Percy had brought upon himself, when the first person I saw was Percy, with one foot bandaged up. ‘It was merely one of your nasty carriage horses, Francis,’ Agnes quickly whispered in my ear, giving me a little peck on the cheek, as if this accident was some great achievement, treating this latest accident like a going away present. I soon found that her family were now assembled, ready to make their way to their carriage, now that I had arrived. Everybody then did so with various degrees of ceremony. Getting Percy into the carriage required some firm words from Agnes, such as 'Come on my pigeon,' and this was achieved, without too much complaint from Percy. He even established himself with a certain degree of noble dignity. His family then followed, taking their seats, with variable degrees of what could be called emulated dignity, and barely audible titters. It was then that Percival shook hands with me, wishing me a fast recovery, and suggesting he visit me again soon, when we could talk further. I agreed with him, adding a few suggestions. Everybody then smiled goodbye to us, except Percy, who looked nobly ahead. They 143

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then drove away, back to what I imagined would be their life of chaos. I spent the next hour clearing my desk, in preparation for my meeting at 10.30, and Jill helped me. I was more competent than Frank had been, and Jill became suspicious. This surprised her greatly. ‘It is most unusual that you are able to do so much,’ she told me, in her usual challenging manner, making me feel all the more a fraud. Deceiving her was not in my nature. Our whole relationship was dishonest, but it was Mary who insisted on keeping my secret from her. Jill left when Mary arrived, and I decided to raise this issue with her straight away. ‘When may I tell Jill? She notices that I am more competent with paper work than Frank, and she found this unusual this morning. She never has to help me to the same extent as she had to with Frank. You know, I had to compensate.’ Mary thought for a time, and then replied, ‘It has to be a Group decision really, or we could get confused. We might let the cat out of the bag. We do not want any accidents. The last one was near fatal.’ ‘I feel such a fraud at the moment. I do not have the necessary dishonest skills to tell lies, or know how to manipulate people.’ ‘Poor Francis,’ Mary replied, coming over to me, and touching my cheek in mock concern. ‘We shall have to do our best to relieve you of your great moral burden. Talk this over with Sol.’ 144

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Colin then popped his head round the door, and told us that Mr Phibbs, Donald Martin, and Dr. Richard Price, had arrived. At that point, I had no idea what all this fuss over a box was likely to be, and waited patiently, whilst they all assembled, and noticed that the study had exactly the right number of chairs; five. They all knew the room well, and where to sit. When they were all seated, Mr. Phibbs opened the proceedings, after placing the Rose Box upon a small table by the window, then announced, ‘Frank is no longer with us, and we assume his soul has passed to another place. In his place, Francis is before you. What you all have to decide today is whether he is the twin soul of Frank, or is he some impostor, because we all know about doubles, and how Rudolf Hess was whisked away to Scotland, leaving his double in Wales. Has the other side played the same trick on us here? This story of being a twin soul could be another great confidence trick. They may have murdered Frank, and placed his double here amongst us. You all have to decide.’ Martin thought carefully before speaking, and opened by saying, ‘I had serious doubts first, when I heard from Mary what happened. Personally, my opinion was to put very serious doubts on any possibility of souls passing from one singularity to another. Such notions ran totally counter to my previous materialist interpretations.’ 145

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‘And Martin, do you now have a religious supernatural interpretation?’ Dr. Price asked, in a quiet, modest voice. ‘I am not sure, Dick. Nothing like this has ever happened before. It is the sort of story the other side would think up, like setting up a false Illuminati to undermine benign fraternities.’ ‘Such setting up persuaded some people!’ Mr Phibbs interjected, 'I know many fine Brothers within our local Brotherhood, who still believe the Black Illuminati is the real thing.' ‘Exactly!’ exclaimed Martin. ‘Is Francis here real, or is he counterfeit? With respect, Francis,’ addressing me not unkindly. I nodded my agreement. Mary shifted in her chair, and started to speak, but thought better of it. Mr Phibbs sat back in his chair, looking at me, expecting me to say something. I looked at them all, reading what I could in their faces, and then considered my words very carefully. ‘Is there some way we could verify my true identity? I know my family history, but agree, that could have been learnt. Could there be some means of verification, that might be other than in the material sense?’ ‘You mean in some supernatural sense?’ Dr. Price suggested. ‘We have here a supernatural phenomenon, and therefore must follow that method of verification.’ Mr Phibbs exclaimed, ‘I like the logic.’ 146

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‘It is logic the other side might have thought up,’ Martin quickly countered. ‘There are methods that would be beyond their spiritual experience,' Dr. Price persisted. 'For one thing, they know little of the real purpose of the Rose. They know only counterfeit versions.’ ‘Real gold is not within their ken,’ Martin replied tersely, with a slight mock accent. ‘We all follow you,’ Mr Phibbs replied, calling them to order, then pausing, ‘Mary?’ looking at Mary questionably. ‘Francis is in many respects a much nicer person than Frank. He is certainly less selfish, and tends to consider others far more. When I first saw him last Saturday, I was shocked. He was like Frank, but different in the sense of what Frank would have been, given different background or upbringing. He becomes more like Frank every day, except…’ Mary paused, ‘except he has not picked up any bad habits, yet!’ adding the last word with emphasis. ‘Does he possess the gold we are talking about, Mary?’ Martin asked. ‘Is he a fit member of our Rose?’ ‘He grows each day. He has obviously came from a dreadfully graceless world. He will certainly take time to become accustomed to our graceful one. All he sees is certain material advantages.’ ‘What did you make of my sermon last Sunday?’ Dr. Price asked me directly. ‘You spoke directly to me,’ I replied simply. ‘In what way?’ Martin questioned. 147

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‘Because of what Mary has just said about coming from a graceless world,’ I replied. ‘Those who live by grace may fall from grace. My world has fallen from Grace. This one clearly has not…’ looking at Mary, ‘yet!’ ‘That reply satisfies me, intellectually,’ Martin replied, ‘but how do we know you are justified by Grace in the supernatural sense?’ ‘How does any of us know?’ I replied. ‘Oliver Cromwell went through most of his life thinking he was blessed by Grace. It was only at the end of his life that he had serious doubts.’ ‘True!’ Martin replied. ‘Congregationalists have much to live down,’ smiling at Dr. Price. I was as that point reminded of a book by Nicholas Hagger, called The Light of Civilisation, and how Hagger showed Grace was common to all religions. Grace has been rightly called the light of civilisation, because it did not bring redemption and salvation in itself, but was the means. It was the inner light that led the way. ‘Are not the fruits of Grace the issue here? As Dr. Price said last Sunday, Grace is the portal, the only the way to redemption and salvation. The door way has two pillars, one is material and the other spiritual. In your own minds, is not my justification found in the spiritual efficacy of Grace in my own life process? I have to admit to you that I failed to find my way in a graceless world. Might I do better here?' ‘Which does suggest a probable divine reason for your being here,’ Dr. Price suggested. 148

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I concluded from that statement that they had probably accepted me, and there was very little more to say, when Martin concluded, ‘You know, Dick, I have always been a bit of a Doubting Thomas. We have here the Rose that has had a petal transplant.’ Everybody laughed. ‘We should judge Francis,’ Mary said with some difficulty, ‘if we are allowed to judge, purely by our own criteria.’ ‘Well said!’ Mr Phibbs exclaimed. ‘The Rose Box has been reinstated.’ ‘But what is in the Rose Box, Mr Phibbs? What is it?’ I asked. ‘That is the secret Francis,’ Mr Phibbs replied. ‘Frank used to keep all sorts of papers in it, but that is how he looked upon the meaning of the Rose. It is not the Rose Box that matters: It is the spiritual content; the connection between us, and what inspires us that provides the meaning of the Rose Box: Remember your family motto!’ ‘Your family motto is like the great G in the Freemasons sign,’ Martin exclaimed. ‘Members of various Brotherhoods attribute all manner of meanings to what the G means. Workers of the Rose have their own.’ ‘The vessel is merely the means, but found in the message, like with the Holy Grail,’ Dr. Price said, wishing to say more, but falling silent. ‘I am beginning to understand,’ I replied, ‘but it is lost in my world, and why it is such a mess. The false Illuminati are a dreadfully evil 149

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force. They seek to destroy the very souls of everybody, so to control the world.’ ‘That is why you are here, Francis,’ Dr. Price replied finally, ‘to tell us these things. Frank tried to tell us, but he had no evidence.’ ‘At that point, Mr Phibbs said, rising, ‘we had best end our business meeting. I shall leave you to discuss matters for the rest of the day, while I get back to my other office.’ At that, we broke up, and decided to have an early bite to eat.

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On sabotaging the false Mary, Martin, and Dr. Price joined me for lunch, whilst Mr Phibbs, after a brief chat, went back to his office, and it was at this lunch that we started discussing a number of aspects of our two worlds. I opened our discussions by stating, ‘I read in The Times today that some people are claiming that Grammar Schools are unfair, and should be replaced by what they called a fairer system of education.’ ‘It is not The Times that is suggesting that idea, of course’ Dr. Price replied, ‘but a number of academic bodies.’ ‘Don't fall for it! It is a con,’ I said bluntly. ‘Doing away with Grammar Schools only results in lowering of the standards of education throughout the country. That is certainly what happened in my world. This specious bait, is offering a fairer system in a Comprehensive system of education, where everybody would have what they claim is "equal opportunity." Life does not work out that way, and the product is spurious fruit. Inequality between children of different abilities rarely finds resolution in Comprehensive education.’ Mary responded unexpectedly, and said, ‘If it ain’t broke, don't mend it,’ in a cockney voice, and then asked, ‘Why are academic bodies suggesting that we abandon grammar schools?’ ‘A good question,’ Dr. Price replied. ‘I was a product of a grammar school myself, and would never have passed the classical language exams,

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that the Independent Pastorate insists I possess, without my grammar school.’ ‘You have put your finger on it, Dr. Price. Their agenda is to do away with institutions that educate people like you,’ I replied. ‘They wish to create institutions that support a certain kind of person, and is education by Natural Selection, not by Grace. Comprehensive systems of factory type education, produces secular individuals, where those going into religious vocations, are tainted with the Jacobin bug for the rest of their lives. That is their hidden agenda.’ ‘I find that very difficult to imagine,’ Martin replied. ‘So did Frank,’ Mary agreed. ‘He could imagine such possibilities, but found it difficult visualising a world where the essence of religion could be missing.’ ‘Like most of us,’ I exclaimed, ‘he found it difficult thinking beyond what he was taking for granted. That is what we keep coming back to. These people want us thinking like them, taking for granted whole sets of perverse values, or lack of them, in an occultation of true religion.’ ‘Who are they?’ Martin asked quickly. ‘I think we may call them what you call Sabbs,’ I replied, 'crooked minded occult master conspirators, behind other front organisations and institutions, such as the Fabians, Socialists, and networks generally, serving ignoble aims.’ ‘Not forgetting the false Illuminati!’ Dr. Price added. 152

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‘And the Elders of Zionism,’ Martin added. ‘Then let us start by defining our terms. By Sabbs we mean the most hidden force within the unholy trinity, involved in the Frankfurt conspiracy, going back to that meeting between Frank, Rothschild, and Weishaupt.’ ‘By Sabbs,’ Mary quickly replied, ‘we also mean those who have been brainwashed into the Sabb belief system: Frank described these people as systemic criminals.’ ‘Wait a minute!’ Martin exclaimed. ‘How did these people cause what you say has happened to your world?’ ‘It has been a gradual process,’ I replied, ‘since the original meeting of the unholy trinity. We may trace them first-kick starting the French Revolution, then a number of further attempts at revolution throughout the world.’ ‘We would suggest that framing the Jews was the Sabb side of the Unholy Trinity,’ Martin replied. ‘and by authoring The Protocols of the Meetings of the Learned Elders of Zion, they gave an impression that Jews were behind the Russian Revolution, and this also provided these Sabb Elders of Zionism with protocols by which their conspiracy could replicate itself.’ ‘Like Hitler,’ I replied, ‘these Sabb Elders of Zionism said exactly what they were going to do, and then did it.’ ‘Yes!’ Mary replied. ‘I agree. The reason this master criminal conspiracy attributed authorship 153

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of The Protocols to the Jewish Zionist community, was so they could hide behind that community.’ ‘It was a false flag operation,’ Martin added. ‘That is certainly how they still operate in my world,’ I replied. ‘The Sabb common purpose is always a double purpose.’ ‘It was certainly the way the Sabbs hid the fact that master criminals were to blame,’ Mary replied, ‘how all master criminals operate. They frame petty criminals for their crimes. Millions died in Russia. Who took the blame? The Jews took the blame. Nobody was capable of thinking Sabb, or criminal personality.’ At this point in our discussion, I wanted to hear much more about the criminal personality, because I had read The Criminal Personality by Prof Yockelson and Dr. Samenow, a three volume work on the profiling of the criminal personality. I gestured to Mary to continue. ‘My Interest in this field was the main reason why I went to America, because a profile of the criminal personality was completely missing from our study of history. Historians had never looked at this profile academically, or seriously, because it was outside their field.’ ‘True!’ I replied. ‘Historians have always been persuaded to look at how people were hooked into revolutions and wars, but never looked at key personalities as criminals.’ ‘As we were telling you yesterday,’ Martin replied, ‘these criminals were planning to murder the Jews under Hitler. That was why Rudolf Hess 154

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came over to seek our help. Hess had a streak of decency, and proved that when he got back to Germany. Before his flight to Scotland, he held the key position over the AO and Oberland, and knew everything that was going on in Germany. He found out what the Sabbs were planning, and decided to try to stop it. He came over in May 1941, and immediately fell into the wrong hands. We took time to remedy that situation, by finding a suitable double to take his place. Sol will give you a first hand account of this.’ ‘Francis has already told us that because this mission failed in his world, they did manage to murder millions of Jews.’ Mary told them sadly. ‘This time the Germans got the frame, and the people behind the murderers went free.’ ‘They did hang a few after the War,’ I replied, ‘but the trials were framed by the very people who were behind the original financing of the Nazis, and even the mass murder of the Jews. Many millions of Germans suffered after the War, for the crimes of these few people. These people covered their tracks so effectively, that nobody has been charged with complicity.’ ‘Mr Big always getting off free!’ Mary added. ‘Yes! It is because none of these people were ever brought to trial,’ I continued. ‘That makes it doubly difficult bringing an action now. The full story may never be told. What I claim is that many innocent people were implicated. Even your Peace Party has been interpreted as friendly 155

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to Hitler, and so implicated by hindsight, rather than as being solely concerned with peace.’ ‘Does nobody know the true story behind the Hess mission in your world?’ Martin asked. ‘It is now hidden, secret history, providing the Sabbs with means of blackmailing the families involved in trying to make peace with Germany.’ ‘That would certainly tend to keep many people quiet,’ Martin replied. ‘Double Standards The Rudolf Hess Cover Up by Picknett, Prince, and Prior, are unearthing remarkable amounts of material. There is still paper work to be done. As I said just now, the problem is that this false history has now been so entrenched, everybody regards those who tried to make peace with Germany as being responsible for millions who died under the Nazi hands.’ ‘Guilt by association,’ Martin added. ‘And the winners always write history,’ I replied. ‘It is the losers who are blackmailed.’ ‘It is true to say,’ Martin replied, choosing his words carefully, ‘in our world, there were certainly plenty of Nazi sympathisers, who were supporters of the Peace Party. We now think this was merely a bait they held out to us. The hook was years of Nazi influence in our political and cultural life after the War.’ ‘I know from my own researches,’ I replied, ‘that the High Tories were easily baited by some friendly Fascists. What you say does not surprise me. However, unlike my world, you did eventually break out of the vicious circle.’ 156

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‘Because both our dominant parties were worshippers of the state,’ Dr. Price replied, ‘our religious revival made breaking out inevitable.’ ‘Yes!’ I replied. ‘Your rediscovering Whig Conservatism, has something to do with it. Many of us thought we had rediscovered the great Whig underground stream in the Eighties, but it turned out a chimera, and a con.’ ‘Let me sum up, which may make sense of both our histories so far,’ Martin asked everybody. We all agreed. ‘The Sabb or Frankist conspiracy has never been seen for what it was in your world, because until recently, you had never seen the criminal personality in history. Is that true or false?’ ‘True!’ we all replied. Martin then gestured with his hands, ‘It is possible for the criminal personality to be emulated within Masonic like institutions, and these are influenced by Sabb beliefs.’ ‘Yes! Up to a point!’ Mary interrupted. ‘Explaining the Sabb phenomenon is part drift theory, and part breed theory. It is true to say that people of a criminal nature tend to drift into secret institutions, into illuminated Freemasonry, and Sabb esoteric institutions. It is true to say that the Frankists have been powerful rich people, who have connections within these institutions. Some of these people are certainly criminal by nature, and are generators of this pathology, which mostly run these institutions, but there is an element of breeding criminals within these 157

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institutions, until they become what Frank called systemic criminals.’ ‘These are the useful idiots,’ I suggested. ‘Not entirely!’ Mary exclaimed. ‘It is possible for some people to go so deep into incrimination, that they become criminals in the process.’ ‘All crooks are good at manipulating people with money, ideology, compromise, ego: MICE. So master criminals know how to bait vulnerable people with MICE.’ I quickly suggested. ‘And hooking them into becoming crooks permanently,’ Mary repeated, ‘once people are hooked into criminal activity, they find it very difficult getting out of bad ways. As I just said, they become systemic criminals. They think in twisted ways like criminals, they feel bad like criminals, they know secret things like criminals, and act in nasty compromising ways like them. They are criminals in objective terms.’ ‘They share what we could call a common purpose with the criminal?’ I suggested. ‘Yes!’ Mary replied. ‘Once people are so institutionalized, their lives are in accord with criminal common purposes. It is very difficult for ordinary decent people buying out of this crooked way. Your world is run on racketeering lines. We only saw gangster mobster activity in America, the Soviet Union, and Nazi Germany.’ ‘Yes!’ I replied. ‘Prof Alexander Zinoviev, who wrote devastating satires of racketeers, did help bring down the Soviet Union. He called the Soviet crooked version, Homo Sovieticus.' 158

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‘Some Nazis,’ Martin added, ‘called the rule of law under the Third Reich Adolph Legalite, a perverse form of Legal Positivism.’ ‘Both of your examples show how crime may prosper, in the right criminal environment’ Dr. Price replied thoughtfully. ‘Such terms are often too truthful to last,’ I replied. ‘Some crooked people call their own graft cult Common Purpose.' 'I wonder if their naming it is deliberate, or accidental,' Dr. Price asked. ‘Common Purpose was probably their original Aesopian code for their double dealing purpose,’ I replied, ‘Code for what they are doing covertly,’ Martin replied, ‘but with a transparent name.’ ‘Yes!’ I replied, ‘but are they stupid enough not to see that somebody might put two and two together, and draw conclusions? It might suggest that somebody wants us to know about them.’ ‘Are you are claiming that somebody wants everybody to know what they are doing, by giving a name to it?’ Dr. Price asked. ‘They gave that name to it, which is code for their own double purpose,’ I replied. ‘Whether it is conscious or unconscious, I do not know, but I do know this kind of sabotage is always a weakness of those who are divided against themselves.’ ‘Some part of them seeks justification for what they are doing, overtly,’ Dr. Price asked, ‘and in the process they are sabotaging the covert purpose of their agenda?’ 159

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‘Something like that. It would appear to be so. Even moral defectives seek justification for their actions,’ I replied. ‘Crooked people must either rationalise their need for justification, or find other means of finding justification.’ ‘Which raises the issue we have raised before,’ Dr. Price started to say. ‘If justification is not by Grace, how do we come by it?' At that point, Dr. Price then paused to say, ‘Ah! We have wandered way off our earlier discussion of the merit of Grammar Schools.’ ‘Sabotage indicates a conflict of intentions,’ I continued. ‘You will discover this, if you go down the road of adopting Comprehensive systems of education. Within barely a generation, the ghost of Grammar Schools will appear again, probably in some perverted form, called academies. A conflict of intentions always appears within the conscience of those adopting any false system, whether it be in education, or some other venture.’ ‘By false,’ Dr. Price replied, ‘we mean an education that does not provide fair opportunity to people of true merit, independent of background.’ ‘It true to say that it is never easy to put down honesty, integrity, or reality,’ Martin added, ‘ultimate values will always tend to prevail.’ ‘I agree. Good is that which usually prevails ultimately. Great is truth and shall prevail!’ I exclaimed. ‘It is a fine motto.’ ‘Grammar Schools are the honest, scholarly way of dealing with real diversity of intelligence,’ Dr. Price replied. 160

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I decided to conclude, ‘What I am claiming is that this principle applies to those adopting false ways. Conscience may not always be conscious, but it will assert itself unconsciously, and sabotage the false. That is all I am saying.’ ‘All people are moral beings, including moral defectives, and none may reject that fact without suffering serious spiritual misadventure,’ Dr. Price concluded. ‘Yes! That is a paradoxical aspect of criminal societies, that always comes uppermost: Criminal societies are sabotaged by the true, and why they are never workable in the long term,’ I concluded. At this, we decided to take a break, and I was glad of this, because what I had contributed had not been entirely lacking in some sense. My faculties and memory were certainly returning. Above all, they had all accepted me, and I no longer felt fraudulent in their company. Also our meeting had been helpful in my getting to know everybody, and I was making great progress understanding their world.

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Five Sabb features After our break, we returned to my study, fully intending to discuss a number of issues, before Dr. Price and Martin left for London. It became clear to me that they wished to discuss some serious matter, but were not sure how to bring the matter up with me. I decided to take full responsibility, by raising the issue myself. ‘I was told yesterday that my son has been approached by somebody who is questioning whether Sol is what he appears to be. Have any of you been approached?’ ‘I have very vaguely!’ Dr. Price replied. ‘I always hear tittle-tattle from all kinds of people, and not surprised that Sol should create suspicion with some people.’ ‘He is a very intelligent man, and learned. We should remember what the Bard said about those who read and write,’ Martin said light heartedly. ‘Speaking for myself, I find the old boy OK, as the Americans say. My rule is to suspect everybody though.’ ‘What do you think is the cause of suspicion, other than Sol's intelligence and great learning?’ I asked, taking Martin more seriously. ‘Everybody knows he is from a Frankist family. He has never denied that. It is true to say that not all people from Frankist families turn out bad though,’ Martin replied, choosing his words more carefully.

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‘People not entirely in the know, tend to draw wrong conclusions,’ Mary added seriously. ‘There are those last remaining dinosaurs who think Jewish people are behind every bad thing in the world. Even today, there are still people who read old books, and never check out what they read. If such claims are in a book, it must be true. I still find people who still have some prejudices against me, even at Pongbourne.’ ‘Ah!’ I replied, half joking, ‘If your family had been here since the sixteenth century, like mine, you would still be regarded as half Pong.’ Mary waved a dismissive hand at me. ‘If this suspicion is merely old fashioned prejudice against Sol being Frankist, or even accused of being Jewish, we may dismiss our suspicions. If we have grounds for believing he is not what he appears to be, then we have a question to ask. How do we find out?’ I asked. ‘That has been our problem researching Sabbs,’ Martin replied. ‘Their aim is always to do the forbidden, but keep that secret by deceit and double dealing.’ ‘Their appearing to be loyal to one purpose, whilst really being apostate, to another,’ Dr. Price postulated, ‘cleverness is how such people conceal their covert, and sometimes delinquent behaviour. It is true to say that most apostates lead double lives, although are not always delinquent.’ ‘That is why most clever people are under suspicion,’ Martin replied. 163

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‘Hence the suspicion against Jewish people, who tend to be clever people,’ Mary asserted, looking at me for a challenge, and I replied, ‘I remember reading somewhere, that there are five aspects to the Sabbatean belief system, and we have covered two; apostasy, and double dealing. We have covered how they think the forbidden, and so may appear to be one thing, whilst they are really something else. What are the other three?’ I asked, looking at Martin. ‘Their secret apostasy is often delinquently furtive, the other three expand upon that,’ Martin offered blankly. ‘Their apostasy often does not appear to be criminal,’ Dr. Price added, ‘on the face of it, but in the long term: By extension, as logicians say.’ Dr. Price then decided to expand, and we all sat up attentively to listen to what he had to say. ‘What Martin and I often discuss, despite our differences, is how the Christian message is really the distillation of all that is best from the Hebraic religious tradition. It is this moral spiritual distillation, which removes any criminal elements from our Western legal and moral tradition. That is the essence of our New Testament legacy.’ ‘It is exactly what a wise Jewish gentleman once told me to be the case,’ I replied. ‘The Sabb belief system inverts this moral distilled soundness,’ Martin continued, ‘and seeks to destroy what is good about our legal traditions.’ ‘By falsifying the good,’ Dr. Price exclaimed. ‘They claim we should do evil, so that good might 164

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come of it. Their justification in seeking evil has to pretend to be a kind of religion, by manipulating our religious impulses, and destroying our deep religious instincts within traditions.’ ‘We mostly know what is good about our religious impulses and traditions,’ Martin added. ‘Which we find by following the prophets,’ Dr. Price followed up, ‘which is distilled out more fully in the New Testament.’ ‘The distillation is there, if we only look,’ I agreed, wondering by now when we would get to dealing with my question. ‘That is the point where the other three aspects come into the picture,’ Martin explained. ‘They have to destroy the correct distillation of our Hebraic New Testament essence, and put false values in its place.’ ‘Of course, only apparently drawn from the same traditional sources,’ Dr. Price added. ‘Within our Judaic religious tradition,' Mary claimed, 'there are aural traditions, which adds complications to these perversions of the true Hebraic message.’ ‘It is also true of the Christian tradition,’ Dr. Price replied. ‘The Reformers rightly called the false aural traditions, the Babylonian Captivity. Although breaking free from Rome appeared to be what the Reformation was all about, really it was about Rome not breaking free from captivity. The Reformation of the Church was much preferable, but Rome would not break free.’ 165

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‘Rome claims to have higher knowledge,’ Mary continued, ‘which is more than the Biblical message, very much like Jewish secret doctrines, all going back to the same Babylonian source: We call Mystery Babylon!’ ‘That is what I was coming to,’ Martin replied. ‘The other three articles of faith of the Sabbs are to do with the extensional content of their apostasy. It is totally hidden from us, the profane, and why it is called occult.’ ‘They pretend to be true to the religion of their birth, or choice, but are really not true. They believe otherwise,’ Mary insisted. ‘We have already agreed that their belief system is tailor made to the requirements of the criminal personality,’ I replied, ‘unlike ourselves, which is tailor made to civil society. What we call Christian civilization.’ ‘You have it!’ Martin exclaimed. ‘If we go back to the Frankfurt meeting of Jacob Frank, Amschel Rothschild, and Adam Weishaupt, we see why it made sense for the three of them to come together. Frank was a Sabb, and so he wanted to expand more power to the Sabbateans, within the Islamic and Jewish communities.’ ‘You mean expand the secret doctrines of the Sabb Babylonian influence?’ Mary insisted. ‘Indeed!’ Martin replied. ‘It was the same with Adam Weishaupt. He was a Jesuit academic, who already had some knowledge of Illuminati traditions. He would have known of Bacon’s New 166

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Atlantis, and his plans of an invisible college, and secret brotherhoods.’ ‘The ideas of the original British Illuminati may not have been all bad and evil,’ Dr. Price said, speaking to me directly, ‘as far as we are able to find out from our British sources.’ ‘However,’ Martin continued, ‘Weishaupt was determined to steal this Illuminati tradition, bending it to his own wicked and perverted purpose. Read the man! This was not a man of God. He was a rogue, and looking to establish a rogue’s paradise on earth, seeking to insinuate his evil doctrines and protocols, within Christian and Masonic communities.’ ‘The same with the Sabbs,’ Mary added. ‘They had been insinuating their perverse belief system within the Islamic and Jewish religious communities, by appearing to be working for one or other of the conflicting factions of religious bodies, whilst really seeking to undermine the whole civilized fabric.’ ‘Yes indeed!’ Martin agreed. ‘As Francis told us the other day, dark forces cannot undermine our civil societies, until the value system working against them has been fully neutralised, or even eliminated completely.’ ‘That is certainly what they have largely achieved in my world,’ I claimed. ‘Now what of Mayer Amschel Rothschild, with his five sons, running the five strategic banks of Europe?’ ‘They were to finance it all!’ Martin claimed. ‘It would not have been very difficult for Amschel 167

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Rothschild to explain to the other two rogues, how he could take over the great money scam. All that Mayer Amschel Rothschild had to do, was send his five sons to all the capitals of Europe, where they were to seek control over the issuance of money in all European countries.’ ‘The following century was rightly called the Age of the Rothschilds,’ Dr. Price added. ‘It was during that century that three well organised dark forces were well placed to establish institutions to take over the world.’ ‘Which they have largely achieved in my world,’ I assured them. ‘When we study subsequent history after 1785,’ Martin continued, ‘we see their money power factor in every major political incident. Where did the conspirators or revolutionaries receive their money? Do we need to speculate. Only rogue bankers may invent money out of nothing. Each incident forced more governments to borrow, under the money scam system, so increasing national debts, continuously financing these dark forces further, and snowballing their money power as a dark political force.’ ‘We must also remember,’ Dr. Price added, ‘that war creates a decline in civilised values, by preventing people from working things out calmly. It is very difficult coming to the right decisions, when governments are forced to react to events.’ ‘That is, until 1942,’ Martin interrupted, ‘when history suddenly changed. Our act of 168

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ending their War brought them out into the open, and revealed their hand. The rest is history.’ ‘I wish I could say the same for my world,’ I replied, satisfied I now had some grasp of their history. ‘Now please remind us of the three other articles of faith of the Sabbs, Martin. I am sure it is important.’ At that point, Martin collected his thoughts, looking round at everybody, making sure they were all going to listen to him, then declared, ‘The first is concentrated upon demolishing the scriptural authority for our civil life: the Bible. They claim the real Torah is not the real Torah, but is what they call the Torah of Atzilot, which is a mystical Torah of aristocracy.’ ‘Once you claim that you have some hidden or secret key to life,’ Dr. Price added, 'only known by some hidden aristocratic masters, nothing is really open to scrutiny.’ ‘This certainly explains their need for secret societies, strange initiation rites, very elaborate mummeries dressed up in mumbo-jumbo, and hierarchies of ranks,’ I concluded. ‘It has always been a very successful confidence trick to claim that only some secret masters know some great mystery,’ Dr. Price added, ‘which is also a clever cunning way of hiding what is not known.’ ‘Second,’ Martin continued, ‘First Cause and the God of Israel are not the same thing. One is the God of the Philosophers, and the second is the God of Religion.’ 169

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‘Of course,’ Dr. Price commented, ‘the first is the God that only the aristocratic masters may know, and the other may be dismissed as foolish superstition. It is a salami tactic, to divide and rule by claiming superior knowledge, of that which is well placed beyond criticism, then dismiss what is known, because it is open to criticism.’ ‘I thank that is what Frank may have called a double whammy,’ I added. ‘Lastly,’ Martin concluded, ‘that the Godhead may take human form, allowing sect leaders to be fully incarnated.’ ‘Along with all the other false messiahs,’ Mary added quickly. ‘Quite!’ Dr. Price replied. ‘It is easy for these foolish people to pretend to be what they are not, when their amoral characters are committed to a false belief system. All spiritually sick people are habituated to fraud, manipulation, and illegitimate behaviour, and find it easy pretending they are above criticism, by imagining they are divine.’ ‘Indeed!’ Martin added. ‘Some people may never know how amoral they are, because they are insinuated within innocent looking institutions, which are so established to supply them with their amoral justifications.’ ‘It is possible,’ Dr. Price added, ‘for some people to live in self deceptions for a very long time, because these secret institutions provide no reality principle to confront them, only a false milieu, without any true moral conflict.’ 170

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‘That is when self deceptions are based upon self sealing doctrines?’ I asked. ‘Exactly!’ Martin replied. ‘They are certainly self sealing in the sense that they appear to prove their infallibility, by the specious nature of their argument, not open to normal modes of criticism.’ ‘Criticism is so easily explained away,’ Dr. Price added, ‘in spurious illogic, of one form or another. Secret institutions are forms of collective or institutional Narcissism, and Illuminism itself is merely a form of solipsism writ large!’ ‘So, as you say,’ I concluded, ‘although these secret institutions are not overtly criminal in themselves, they do offer infinite possibilities for criminal activity, under the cover of countless sophistical delusions?’ ‘Correct! As Prof John Robison suggested, Sabbs are like criminal fungi, cultured within the most secret of occult institutions,’ Martin replied. ‘And this is where Freemasonry is highly questionable,’ Mary continued. ‘None of us may claim that the whole Masonic business is evil or wicked in itself. However, it offers environments in which evil and wicked people may carry out plans, without being challenged, or found out.’ ‘This obviously makes it trebly difficult knowing whether somebody is criminal, or naively innocent, or Sabb,’ I concluded. ‘True!’ Martin replied. ‘I know members of my own family, who will leave Freemasonry, only when I provide them with some concrete proof of criminal activity within their own lodge.’ 171

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‘I have found,’ I suggested, ‘that many people have a streak of perversity in them, that likes to be associated with the forbidden.’ ‘That goes back to the Garden of Eden, Francis,’ Dr. Price replied, but then added more seriously, ‘although Sabbs do model themselves upon that myth.’ ‘It is true that John Milton painted a more sympathetic picture of those who rebel against Heaven, than his unsympathetic caricature of the Heavenly Father,’ I replied, sadly remembering Frank's introductory chapter to Rackets. At that point we completed our discussions on the question of Sol for the time being, covering most of the difficult ground, and agreed that we had a difficult task deciding about him. It would be best to leave that matter until I had spent some time with him, and everybody agreed that I needed to decide for myself. It was around this time that the younger Mr Phibbs left a message to tell me that Mr William Lincoln would be willing to come down early next day, and would I come in and see him tomorrow morning? I agreed to this immediately. On hearing this, Martin agreed to stay over night, and go back Thursday morning. We could go into Pongbridge together, and find out what Mr Lincoln had to tell us about Sol. We could continue our discussions for the rest of the evening, while Mary and Dr. Price had to leave.

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Scam and scum After they left, I asked Martin to explain money to me, because I had not wanted to go over the ground again with the others. We had already done more than enough of that. I had not entirely grasped what Frank had explained in Rackets. Martin was not surprised at all, and told me that he made sure his students understood this matter in their first year. If they failed to do so, or easily forgot what they had learnt, he failed them. He told me that Sol called this racket scam and scum. ‘The scam is simply treating money as if it is a commodity, instead of a measure.’ ‘I am not sure I understand that, Martin. I thought money was a medium of exchange.’ ‘It is Francis. It is measure of value, in your transactions with others.’ ‘I am not sure what is wrong with treating money as a commodity.’ ‘I you do that, you are exchanging one thing of value with another other thing of value, called barter. The whole purpose of money, is have a medium of exchange, which is a measure of the transaction, but not costing anything to buyer or seller. It is like inches or ounces. Money allows one party to put a price on the commodity, that is being exchanged, without cost to either party. Money may be anything; sea shells, feathers, pieces of paper, or what you want. It is free.’

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‘So money could be something of value, as in barter, but essentially money is nothing of the kind. It is measuring out value in our transaction.’ ‘Francis, your tailor does not suddenly tell you he cannot make your suit, because he has run out of inches, or your butcher fail to sell you meat, because his scales have been stolen, or do the box office at the railway station tell you the trains are not running today, because they have run out of tickets? Money, the world of measure, and the real economy of commodities, the world of values, are essentially different worlds. It is the confusion over these two worlds that was largely responsible for our past slavery to the scum.’ ‘Scum are the people who ran the scam?’ ‘Sol and Frank have many names for the scum who ran the scam, calling some banksters, They knew what they were doing, and never let on. We traced the scum back to the robber barons of Henry Beauclerc’s day. Later we had the privateers, or pirates, or skull and bones people, after the fall of the Templars. They became the high ranking Masonic scum, who kept the secret of the money scam down the centuries.’ ‘Which was simply that money was not essentially valuable in itself, but was merely a means of exchanging valuable things, without cost to anybody?’ ‘Exactly Francis! Like inches and ounces.’ ‘So what of gold? Why do we need gold? ‘We do not need Gold Francis, unless we are joining the scum, and wish to cheat our fellows.’ 174

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‘What of the Gold Standard?’ ‘It was one big con, Francis, to give the impression that money had to be valuable. Gold could be handy in barter, of course, but confusing it with money only confuses complex minds, and causes us all to lose sight of how simple money really is. Nobody needs gold, except those who work with gold.’ ‘Does it matter who issues money?’ ‘Of course Francis. The governments of nation states should lay down the measures for a country. If you let the privateers back into issuing money, they would soon cheat everybody, as they did in the past, and create an empire of scams.’ ‘ I think I have it now, Martin.’

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Right and Wrong It was during our dinner together, that Martin felt freer to continue filling in the missing history, by opening out discussion, saying, ‘It was most probably my fellow Scotsman, Prof John Robison, who was responsible for your missing the historical importance of the Sabbs.’ ‘I agree, Martin. Prof. Robison tended to concentrate mostly on writing about the Illuminati in his Proofs of a Conspiracy, which we agreed, was only covering the Catholic Jesuit side of this unholy trinity. It easy enough to say why that is so: Jacob Frank had died by the time Robison wrote his Proofs, and he assumed the Rothschilds took over Frank’s financial network.’ ‘Which is true,’ Martin replied. ‘their agents were certainly active within the Frankist network. We found that out that after the fall of Stalin in 1942. A number of their descendants had been moved to the Urals during the War, hiding out as Jews. When the Japanese armies arrived in that part of Russia, many were quickly rounded up. Although they pretended to be Jews, knowledge of their past crimes soon threw them into the hands of the law. We had the full cooperation of the Jewish community by then, when we revealed the Sabb plan to murder Jews.’ Martin then asked me pointedly, ‘You have no doubt heard about the Zionist infamous Transfer Agreement with the Nazis.’

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‘Yes! I have! They would have murdered more in your world, if the War had continued, and they certainly murdered a certain number in my world, although there is still argument over exact numbers. The number claimed is six million, but some people claim less.’ ‘We believe that the point of this mass murder was to create a spurious burnt offering called the Holocaust,’ Martin continued ‘hence ambiguity over exact numbers. So Sol says, the Learned Elders of Zionism needed a claim of at least the six million, so they could make claim to the Holy Land, which would otherwise be against all religious or scriptural authority. Religious Jews know they have no more right to the Holy Land, than those who have settled there over centuries. Sol told me that he questioned at the time why the Sabbs worked closely with the Nazis, driving so many Jews out of Germany.’ ‘I know from my reading of Barry Chamish that these Sabbs were political Zionists, with hidden connections with the oppressive regime in the Soviet Union. They are now murdering Jewish religious leaders in the Holy Land.’ Martin thought this over very carefully, before replying further, ‘We found Sabbs running Siberian death camps, and they were not very pleasant people. As Dick Price told us just now, the basic Sabb philosophy is to do evil, so that good might come of it! That doctrine is a licence to maim, murder people in millions, and cause distress to all. We 177

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have never had any doubts that the Sabb belief system is a charter for the criminal personality.' ‘I have read a number of books on these crimes,’ but so many of these authors tend to end up being anti Jewish, because they do not know about the Sabbs of the story.’ ‘That is quite understandable on their part. They may see an element of Jewish complicity in this business. It takes a very brave people to fight organised crime, particularly when it has been so entrenched in their community centuries.’ ‘Compromising people with a love of money tends to silence even the most deeply religious people,’ I suggested, somewhat cynically. ‘Yes, as Burke said, we are all involved in complicity, when good men do not associate to stop bad men combining.’ ‘I agree! As I told you earlier, after the War, we held a trial of the so called War criminals. All crimes were listed in the indictment. One of the items listed was conspiring against peace, and legitimate and constitutional government. I forget the exact wording. Their failing to prosecute those who financed the Nazis has resulted in the same crime families conspiring in the same way against legitimate government now. Again, nobody is doing anything about it. It is as if constitutional government has abdicated.’ ‘It has always been so, Francis. Only a dozen were willing to remonstrate against King Charles at the beginning. The English Civil War could have been avoided otherwise.’ 178

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‘There are very few who know right and wrong, Martin, and even fewer who are willing to fight for it.’ ‘We were fortunate, and had a very bad period after the War, when the delinquent Nazi element obtained a hold over our political elite. That caused enough pain to seek change.’ ‘Pain is what our friendly Fascists appear to be avoiding, with the influence of such bodies as Common Purpose.’ ‘I am sure of that Francis. Possibly you remember Edward Wood, Lord Halifax of Munich fame. Woods have been undermining the religious constitution of our country for generations: With them, the end always sanctified their means, even when it was treacherous complicity with Nazism. Name any secret Catholic or Jesuit secret society over the last century or so, and you find them.’ ‘I have read little on this subject, except The Secret History of the Oxford Movement by Walter Walsh.’ ‘When the Fascists nearly took us over, during our Nazi European Union period, we very fortunately had a timely change of government. The infamous combination of Tory Socialists and Socialist Tories, were turned out, and the New Whigs came in. You might be surprised to hear that your Winston Churchill supported us.’ ‘Whig Conservative government is what we have needed for decades. All we have had were false starts, and false leads. This underground 179

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stream has run through our life for generations, without coming to the political surface.’ ‘That is probably because the conspirators anticipated your every move, using Whiggery as a bait, but with their false hooks. In our case, within months of the Whigs taking office, they demanded the end of the Regency. That ended our Tory Socialist period. The people demanded the King back, and he signed the Declaration of Right and Wrong. We have not looked back since then.’ ‘That is interesting. There has been talk of introducing a Bill of Rights by our political elite.’ ‘That is no good at all, a Bill of Rights has to be passed by Parliament, which may take it away, or chew it away by redaction. A treaty between Sovereign and People is a totally different matter. The Declaration is a treaty: Stating clearly what the law happens to be. It does not make law, but declares law; stating what all governments must follow to remain within the rule of law, defining limited government. The Declaration follows the traditions of the Charter of Liberties of Henry the First, Magna Carta of King John, and the lesser known Declaration of Right of William and Mary.’ ‘That would certainly give our Queen full right to state what is right and wrong, when our corrupt governments slide into lawlessness. Your Declaration possibly explains why everybody appears so assured and confident in this world, and why nobody appears really anxious.’ ‘Our Declaration most certainly tidied up the British Constitution. No constitutional government 180

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is possible, without a treaty of this kind. It was probably no accident that the practice of granting charters by the Sovereign, defining the rule of law, fell out of use.’ ‘We could blame the German Hanoverians for that Martin.’ ‘It certainly started in earnest under the Georges, when all the wrong principles were adopted, and the right ones ignored, as Edmund Burke was the first to point out.’ ‘We still have our constitutional documents, but nobody takes any notice of them any more. We may just as well have a large bonfire.’ ‘Which we nearly did Francis, during the great Palace of Westminster fire: Was that fire started deliberately? I sometimes wonder. It was when they were burning the tally sticks. We now treasure our constitutional documents, which are integral parts of our constitution. The Sovereign's Declaration of Right and Wrong defines their significance. The Sovereign is the correct symbol of our Sovereignty, and the only right person to make this Declaration, which merely informs us what we should already know. Some people would still doubt it, if it had not been stated.’ ‘It is true Martin, that when the Sovereign is the head of state of an elected dictatorship, doubt is the case.’ ‘Elected dictatorship places any Head of State in an impossible situation.’ ‘If our Sovereign acts constitutionally against the government of the day, she may be 181

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accused of political bias. Governments easily bait their causes in Parliament, by saying in effect; If you do not sign with this Bill, you are against the poor, the hard up, the disadvantaged, or even free enterprise. I have to tell you, our Queen is a totally meaningless icon of what was once called a constitutional monarchy: She often fails to act constitutionally, because of begging the question.’ ‘It is true that elected dictatorships are a no win situation for any Head of State. That situation ended with the Declaration. The Declaration was a wise act of the late King, and we Scots take some credit for being behind it.’ ‘I guessed as much, Martin, I do seem to remember another Declaration of Right, very much like it, defining Scottish sovereignty.’ ‘We have no reason to doubt the validity of our own Declaration of Arbroath, because we have a clearly defined constitutional government at Westminster. It was an elected dictatorship in London that turned Arbroath into an insignificant piece of paper. It is now fully protected by the British Sovereign's Declaration.’

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Rise and revolt of elites After our good dinner, we moved back to my study, and decided to discuss life under limited government, as well as what it was like living under elected dictatorships. ‘Unlimited government was inviting tyranny,’ I claimed. ‘Why Martin, why?’ ‘I think it started with a vengeance under the last Liberal government, at the beginning of the last century. Prime Minister David Lloyd George was the main agent of change for these people in this country.’ ‘I agree to that,’ I agreed. ‘Some people have said that Lloyd George was a German agent, although he was probably working for the unholy trinity, and was an easy person to compromise, with his amoral lechery, having the hallmarks of a useful idiot: High intelligence plus low morals, with the ability to bait people with a seductive Welsh voice. The term Welsh Wizard might also suggests occult aspects. His friend Churchill was into all kinds of weird aspects of Freemasonry, during this early period.’ ‘It was a time when the Court was all Francophile. It is not all that difficult working out how the Sabbs insinuated themselves into the British Establishment.’ ‘Yes, in the Twenties, we had a carefully worded warning, in The New Despotism, by Lord Chief Justice Hewart, explaining how tyranny was being introduced in a coup d'etat by instalments.'

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‘Yes! Fabian Revolutions are likened to boiling a live frog, which has to be put into a pot, whilst increasing the temperature until boiled. The frog does not notice it is being boiled alive. The French would have discovered that kind of thing centuries ago. This coup d’etat by instalments idea, probably came from Sabb elements within Grand Orient Freemasonry.’ ‘They found out how to illuminate British Freemasonry,’ I replied. ‘All they needed was financial resources to make it happen, which they received from the unholy trinity, which might explain the timing of Fabianism.’ ‘We Brits have always tended to have good common sense on our side, whilst the French have always tended to side with tyranny. When Continentals sent over tyrants, we domesticated them quickly. Boiling us alive slowly, would be their only way.’ ‘Is our good sense in our soil, or in the air? Where did it come from?’ I asked. ‘I think it is because of a native British, or Celtic element in our population, providing a restraining influence upon Continental tyrants, including the English. Our knowledge of British prehistory is now so well advanced, we know our common or natural law notions were advanced thousands of years before the Romans.’ ‘That raises the question,’ I replied, ‘why the same Celtic population on the Continent did not have the same ideas.’ 184

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‘They did, if you study European history carefully. Take Bohemia! They had the same free tendencies as ourselves. There have always been Celtic pockets of resistance to German tyrants.’ ‘The German nation have been accused of being responsible for the prevalence of tyranny, by a number of academics,' I replied. One was, Prof Edmund Vermeil, who studied this subject over fifty years, publishing his book in the thirties and forties, called Germany's Three Reichs. Also Dr. Harry Beckhough has made out the same case more recently in Germany’s Four Reichs.’ ‘As we told you earlier, Francis, we fell under the barbarian influence of the Third Reich, because the War ended sooner than we expected. We fell for it, because peace was the bait. The hook was German Nazi influence upon our cultural and political life for a time. Fortunately, German people abandoned Fascism, under the influence of the religious Monarchists. Then we had a reactive religious revival.’ ‘We were hooked over a much longer time. The bait was called the Common Market, and the hook is now called the European Union, although this is now switching into the United States of Europe. There have been switches galore.’ ‘That is history repeating itself; how the second German Second Reich came about. First establishing a common market, then introducing Reich tyranny in small steps. The Third Reich was a natural product. German Sabbs are not original. 185

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They know that if political progression is done in an obvious way, few stand in their way.’ ‘Like Hitler telling everybody what he was going to do, everybody then letting him do it.’ ‘Quite! That is certainly like the serpent and its prey, as Dick Price often expresses it.’ ‘The serpent in the Garden of Eden is a good analogy or metaphor.’ ‘What are your British people doing about this European Union?’ Martin asked bluntly. ‘Very little!’ ‘Surely our British history is replete with counter proposals? Surely, people are awake to the danger?’ ‘As I told you, English education has been under attack since the War, and permeated with surreptitious Fabianism. People are not properly educated in the sense you know. Many people who are awake, think of waiting for some great leader to turn up again, and rescue them, like Churchill. It was he who started the European Movement for a United States of Europe. The great mass of the people do not even know that. They are so badly educated.’ ‘You mentioned earlier, Comprehensive education and the demise of Grammar Schools.’ ‘Higher education is now largely Mickey Mouse, and more concerned with getting pieces of paper. It is not producing independently minded thinking people.’

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‘Yes! We had this tendency during our Tory Socialist period. I still meet people who are quite hopeless cases, only qualified on paper.’ ‘Our higher education degradation, has been called The Rise of the Meritocracy, by the paper chasers. Education is now geared to what should be called presumptive merit.’ ‘It is the worship of form, not substance, experience or intelligence?’ Martin suggested. ‘Yes! Take law! You are obviously familiar with John Austin's notions of Legal Positivism, legal ideas that have been around since the days of Jeremy Bentham, and the English Jacobins. Legal Positivism is not a legal doctrine, openly professed by our legal profession. Positivism is much more subtle than that: It is the hidden presupposition, which most lawyers tend to follow, and deny when questioned openly.’ ‘This does not surprise me. You mean it is insinuated that law has no moral content, denying that values provide law with legitimacy.’ ‘Yes!’ I replied. ‘The notion that law has moral content, or must conform to some higher law, is becoming foreign to lawyers, legislators, and what is worse, to police officers. It would appear that Prof Albert Dicey was behind these now Fabianised presuppositions.’ ‘You are correct Francis. That is why we closed down many Fabianised institutions inspired by the Jacobins, which were quite surreptitiously presupposing that Parliament was above the law. There is none worse than legislators and police 187

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officers treating law as Holy Writ, rather than the rule of law. So you are now experiencing a police state? We saw only the beginning of it after the War, during the Regency.’ ‘Yes! Police officers are now armed.’ This shook Martin. This was unthinkable in his world. He visibly whitened. I went on, ‘Our different constabularies, that were once the guarantors of our liberties, are amalgamated into larger less efficient forces.’ ‘Under the worship of debt money, such shallow arguments would make financial sense,’ Martin quickly reminded me. ‘The police, in keeping the peace, are now inefficient, totally out of touch with the population they serve. Many police officers now look upon themselves as authority, called The Force, rather than as civil peace officers. Watch Committees went out years ago.’ ‘What chance has your ordinary bobby knowing his true role, when he is working in such a way, that is opposed to the civilising intentions of Sir Robert Peel?’ ‘The same with local government. The clerks in our local government offices are now taking wings, and lording over us. They have their trade unions pushing them, of course. If they go down the same road as the police, we shall soon have the same sort of bureaucratic state, they have on the Continent.’ ‘Francis, what is driving all this?’ 188

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‘It is deliberate,’ I replied. ‘Somebody is making these dreadful things happen. Take the police: We know it is where Freemasonry is very strong, and need look no further, when looking for high ranking Fascist influences from Continental Illuminated Freemasonry. These high ranking police officers could be members of what my nephew calls the Black Illuminati.’ ‘What of your new unhappy lords? It has always been true to say that local government machines are run by machine men.’ ‘And they think only in those terms, Martin. We are no longer The People, masters in our own democratic house, but merely epiphenomenon, to categorise, organise, threaten, and tax.’ ‘There is a law that says all organisations tend to seek their own territorial interests, which is to increase power at every opportunity, not the interests such bodies are supposed to serve.’ ‘That law is usually accidental,’ I replied. ‘What we have is conscious and deliberate. Prof Christopher Lasch ended his career writing about the Revolt of the Elites. He began his career studying the rise of these radical elites, of the nineteenth century, and ended his career studying how they were behind this revolt in the next.’ ‘Yes, I follow you,’ Martin replied. ‘We saw the beginning of this, in between the wars. This movement began with people in the foundations, funding people for the universities.’ ‘It is these people who have become our new managers, and created new bureaucracies, 189

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taking over more territory, which were once the domain of free civil societies.’ ‘So the point of educating these folk has been in employing them in what you what have been calling Common Purpose.’ ‘Yes!’ I replied. ‘It also is true to say that the corporatist elements in the foundations knew that higher education tends to leave alienation in its wake, where such graduates tend to acquire conceits, becoming useful idiots of an alienated common purpose. It is an apt term.’ ‘It is sad that once young people have a degree of any kind, few will then turn their hands to doing anything useful in the service of a free civil society. Civil societies are built upon trade between people, not bureaucratic relationships.’ ‘What we have is qualified incompetence in every aspect of our private and public life.’ ‘We had all these problems, Francis, until we rid ourselves of the institutions of our Regency period. It was pain that drove us to change our ways. Our education today is free by coupon, but for personal character development. Every kind of experience qualifies us for a job. True education is character development, supporting civilisation.’ ‘I agree Martin. This crazy idea that pieces of paper automatically qualifies somebody for a job, is creating problems. Nobody is secure under such a system.’ ‘Frank called this racket Bureaucratism, which runs on the bait of learned ignorance. The hook leads to Schlemieling; making a mess of 190

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things, in nasty switches, cross-ups, and fruitless pay offs. Such rackets often disqualifies somebody who might be much better qualified to do some competent piece of work, and so turned down, because of the lack of paper. How stupid?’ ‘No piece of paper qualifies somebody for leadership, Martin. What of Churchill? He was not at all qualified, but became war leader.’ ‘We had better not go down that road, because he might prove the point, but Winston is not always accepted as a good example. He was certainly instrumental in pushing wrong aims.’ ‘Because Sabbs were crawling all over him. Roosevelt was no better. It has became obvious that both were expected to deliver up the British Empire to the corporatists, while W.S. Churchill pretended to do the opposite. Both were expected to deliver up the Middle East to them, whilst pretending they were finding a home for the Jews. What was worse, they delivered up the whole of Eastern Europe to the Soviets. No man in history has been a better example of doing something so totally opposite to what he claimed he was doing.’ ‘Those things did not happen in our world Francis, and few people would say Churchill was behind all you say. He was merely instrumental. He was their useful idiot. They used him. That is all. In our world he did good. His Chartwell plan for India was very successful.’ ‘Not so in my world, Martin. The War that Churchill welcomed, was a great disaster for most people of Europe.’ 191

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‘Because we managed to get Rudolf Hess away from those surrounding Churchill, we were able to confirm everything we feared. Fortunately, we had enough Nazi sympathizers working for us to end the War. They opened up more knowledge of the Frankfurt conspiracy. The rest is history. You see the product around you.’ ‘Although Churchill is our war hero, he is a failure in other respects, because he left the world is a far worse mess than he found it.’ ‘As you said, the winners write the history books, Francis. Losers are always painted black. It takes centuries for scholarship to catch up.’ Having wandered off point, we continued our talk like this until the late hours, and at the end of it, I felt more a stranger to the world I had known. On the other hand, Martin was more than puzzled how people could take for granted much of what I had described. He took his own world for granted. I was beginning to do so as well. Mine appeared so false, so unreal, a foolish past.

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Empathy Despite all our talk, comparisons, and late hours, I slept soundly again. All the talks were having a very healthy effect upon my system. So when I woke on Thursday morning, I was instantly ready to take stock and start the day. It was another delightful August day. Colin had put Martin in a bedroom quite near my own, and told me how he was already up and about, by the time he brought my breakfast. I barely glanced at The Times. Colin instantly fell in with my new pace, and soon had me ready for the day.There were only a few matters to attend to in my study, and I could leave those for Jill, who would come in just before we were setting out for Pongbridge. So I decided to get out and about myself. It was time I had a good look at the farm, because so much had happened since I arrived. As a family business, we had done well with staff. My mother told me how we had always kept staff employed well into old age, leaving them to retire only when they requested to do so. It was not a style of management suitable for the world my mother had to deal with, but was the one I now saw before me, and remembered how she had been visibly distressed, dismissing staff, when we had to sell up. Now I saw all our staff gainfully employed, without anybody having to tell them what to do, with Dawes making adjustments only where needed.

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When I arrived, Dawes was talking to Martin, who had been for a good walk, judging by his colour, and decided to leave them alone. I felt very much a fraud, despite the clothes Colin had pressed upon me, which were certainly suitable for walking round a messy farm, but doubted I had any right to wear them. So I walked off on my own to get used to my novel appearance. I was not alone for very long, when Martin called out, ‘So you are up Francis. Your man told me you are a ten o'clock man, and I have been up since light.’ I looked round, and saw Martin, with Dawes smiling behind him. It was apparent that they had an interesting talk. ‘I am out and about earlier than usual Martin,’ I replied. Dawes saluted me in his usual polite way, pushing his cap back a bit, I returning the courtesy, and I asked, ‘What have you found out Martin?’ ‘That your Jack should be back tomorrow, and is bringing his new lass to Pongbourne.’ ‘I was told, but had forgotten, with all our talk yesterday,’ I replied, wondering what to add. ‘Master Jack phoned my wife yesterday, Sir, and sounded much happier than when he left. He was all farm talk on how to train horses the kind way,’ questioning with his eyes, whether to talk business, or to make our guest feel welcome. ‘I am sure our guest would like to know more about that Dawes,’ I replied. 194

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‘Indeed Francis, I had a good look at all your horses, and Dawes told me that they will all be trained the kind way, when Jack gets back. Will you hand over to Jack?’ ‘I shall have to talk that over with Dawes,’ I said, eyeing Dawes, who signaled his need to get away, and so I made a slight gesture of relieving him, and he was gone. ‘What did you find out Martin?’ ‘Only, that it is a well run farm, and you are considered a good employer.’ ‘Without going too deeply into what we were discussing yesterday, I do agree, it is a well run shop. Let us be clear: It is well run only because it is in a well run country.’ Martin looked pleased to hear this, ‘I was remembering my mother having to dismiss fine people like Dawes fifty years ago, because of money problems.’ ‘What a dreadful waste. He has the wisdom of generations. It is difficult imagining anybody replacing him.’ ‘It is not only that, Martin. Over there, where you see those horses running about, there was a ghastly cluster of nasty little houses, like boxes, all built to the same plan, and all housing people completely out of place. If you look behind those horses, you would see a ghastly motorway, with many vehicles, all rushing by, spewing out vehicle smut, that stinks like hell, blocking up noses, and causing a nasty black powder to float in the air, into every open window.’ 195

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‘Enough of Hell, Francis.’ He had enjoyed his delightful early morning walk in real country, and was not going to let me spoil his enjoyment. ‘Here everybody serves, and that includes Lady Lucre, along with the rest of us. What you describe is a form of slavery of the worst kind.’ I had to make some gesture of apology, and may now admit that reminding Martin what sort of world I had come from, was in very bad taste. It was also my last. He quickly reminded me, ‘It was time you started enjoying this life, and forgot the past Francis.’ We then looked in the direction of Jinx, moving our carriage out of its bay. His horses were nearby, waiting for him, watching him very closely, shadowing his every move. I could then understand why he was called Jinx. The horses sensed he was their sort. Somebody seeking to ride a horse when Jinx was around, would soon find their horse following what Jinx was doing, not what the rider wanted to do. He looked over at us, made a brief gesture, and continued with his work. The horses made the same gesture, and we found this animal empathy uncanny, this natural rhythm. Because Martin so enjoyed observing this scene, I quickly suggested he wait for Jinx, and come over in the carriage, while I popped back to see Jill. I wanted to make sure Jill knew where I would be this morning, and made my way back to the house. 196

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Jill was on the point of arriving, when I stepped into my study, and immediately made exclamations of pleasure, looking at the Rose Box, ‘It is back! It is back!’ is all she could say. ‘Do you know where the key is, Jill?’ ‘Yes! I have the key to the key. Mummy kept it, because you were always losing it, and I always knew where she kept things.’ She reached into her bag, and gave me a key. ‘This is the key to your cabinet in your bedroom. The key to the Rose Box is in there somewhere.’ I took the key from her, eyed her a thank you silently, and put it in my pocket. I did not have time to go back upstairs, and find the other key, so I made my way to the door, when Jill said, ‘I hope you do not lose that key, Daddy.’ I made gestures of a person who never does such things, and quickly went through the door, while Jill returned to the Rose Box, fascinated with the skill of the workmanship of the Rose Box.

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William Lincoln MP Our drive into Pongbridge was a most delightful experience, and many people waved at us as we drove by. News of my recovery had been spread abroad, and was obviously a great comfort to the local community. By now, I was beginning to be more inclined to acknowledge my social position, and did not feel quite the fraud. No doubt there was an element of vanity in my position. Martin smiled at my mixed feelings, and we hardly exchanged a word. He obviously enjoyed the ride as much as I did. Jinx dropped us at the offices of Phibbs, Phibbs, and Phibbs, and told us where he would be. We went in, and were immediately taken to the office of the younger Mr. Phibbs, where I was surprised to find that both the middle and the younger Mr Phibbs were present. The middle Mr Phibbs then introduced us to his son, then left us to discuss business. Our introductions had taken barely a few seconds, and I decided to keep up the same pace during our interview, and opened by asking, ‘Well Mr Lincoln. What have you to tell us?’ and eyed him keenly, but with a friendly look. He looked back at us both, not sure where to start. ‘The last time we met, Sir Francis,’ eyeing me, with a measured look, ‘you were not exactly very friendly to what I had to say.’ I had to think very quickly on this one, and replied,

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‘As you may have been told, my accident has left me with a very poor memory of such things. You have before you a virtually new man. Feel free to start again. Let us find some better understanding this time.’ He sat back in his chair, first thinking very deeply, then spoke in measured words, ‘I was approached by a certain person, who told me you were being misled, when you were asked to begin researching into these murders.’ ‘May we know who that certain person was, Mr Lincoln?’ ‘Not at this point Sir Francis, but this person is willing to meet you.’ ‘Fine! Fine!’ I replied. ‘Please go on!’ ‘He told me that he had every good reason to believe that this research business was more about putting certain people into the House of Lords, than in seeking out who committed these murders. He suggested that these murders were a bait, and the hook was what we did in Parliament to deal with it. This is very much what you say in your book on Schlemieling rackets. You write that baits and hooks have many uses. In this case, the bait is deliberately creating a murder problem, so to hook placing key men in positions of power.’ I had to sit back to think carefully on this. I had been through Frank’s book, and remembered this Schlemieling racket. Eric Berne had covered the game of Schlemiel, and Frank took this further in Rackets, describing how political racketeering could be structured around Schlemieling. Fabian 199

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inspired governments were adept at baiting the innocent population with inept legislation, creating problems that led to passing draconian laws, in a coup de e'tat by instalments, each Act forming a new ratchet, leading to the next. My silence made Lincoln quite nervous, and so he added, ‘Another example you give is of passing emergency legislation to deal with deliberately created problems. This is what my colleague was suggesting, concerning your research group into these murders.’ ‘It is an interesting theory, although you must have more than theory, to have me look into this matter.’ ‘He told me that the House of Lords Select Committee on Assassinations had formed a secret study group, called the Frankist Study Group, and that Lord Bekov was appointed a member of this Group. He said you were only nominally in charge, and was called Frankist as a pun on your name, although you were really researching Frankist influence, still prevalent amongst the Socialists. However, the whole idea of forming the Group was to steer the Select Committee up blind allies, so that they did not lead anywhere.’ So your friend is suggesting to you that our Research Group was set up as a Schlemieling bait and hook process?’ I asked. ‘Yes! That you had been placed as a patsy chair, but really Bekov would be running it.’ 200

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I could see instantly why Frank reacted the way he had. However, I was not going to be so hasty. This weak plot had possibilities for further discovery. They were giving themselves away. Why did they work with such a weak plot? The plot was transparent to me. Why not them? ‘Thank you Mr Lincoln. I would like to meet your man. Why do you trust this man?’ ‘Because he is held in very high regard by our church circles, and is an Evangelical minister, who spends most of his time bringing people to Christ. He is not likely to lie, is he?’ Lincoln eyed me for a response. I gestured with both hands that I could agree with him. ‘He is also a very well read person, knowing vastly more than I know, of plots against Church and Christian civilisation.’ I found this latest piece of information very interesting. His man was a Biblical or Evangelical Christian, who was well read outside of Biblical studies. I decided to make a guess what sort of man he was, ‘Would your man be prepared to come down and meet me?’ I asked directly. Lincoln thought deeply for a time, possibly surprised at the speed of our progress, and so I decided to push Lincoln further, suggesting, ‘We could meet in the open air, somewhere like the old Abbey at Pongbourne. I know many places up there that could be completely private. It would not be seen as very odd that a religious gentleman was visiting historical sites of religious interest. Many clerics visit the Abbey.’ 201

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Lincoln thought for a minute. He had not expected the meeting to move so fast, and was now stuck for a reply. ‘When could he come down Mr Lincoln?’ I added, after giving him further time to think. ‘I could bring him down, within a day or so, although he was somewhat wary of meeting you in public places.’ This was interesting too, and was a clue of sorts. Why would a Christian gentleman be the slightest bit wary of meeting another Christian gentleman in a public place? This business had too much fuss plot to it. I saw no substance. I nodded to the younger Mr Phibbs that the business side of our meeting was over, and then started making small talk on a number of trivial issues, bringing Martin into our conversation. Mr Lincoln was visibly put out by this, and not really in touch with what was going on. Martin and Phibbs took their cues from me, and knew I had made a decision, but were not sure what it was. After giving a small amount of time to this friendly manner of discourse, I rose to end the meeting, and shook Lincoln's hand warmly, thanking him for coming down to see me, leaving arrangements with Mr Phibbs to fix the date of our meeting. I could see that Lincoln was still puzzled. It was only when we were in the street, when we talked our way to the railway station, that I could explain to Martin that this whole business had too much fuss plot about it. It was not carried out deceptively or very quietly. Art is 202

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the ability to conceal art. Genius is the ability to conceal genius. Good craft conceals craft. Any good plot is the ability to conceal plot. This plot did not conceal, but was too transparent. It was either the work of an amateur, or somebody who was already on our side, pretending to work for the other side. My conclusion was that somebody on the other side wanted to give himself away, or could not intrigue without giving himself away. I left Martin at the railway station, after giving him my opinion of Lincoln's character, then walked to The Bear, where Jinx said he would be. By this time I was longing to find out what was inside the Rose Box, and became completely lost in thought most of the drive back.

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Aporetic? When I arrived back, I went directly to my rooms, opened up the cabinet with the key, and found it was mostly full of old papers, much of it belonging to Jane. However, it did not take long finding the silver key, with a rose pattern on the handle. I immediately took it downstairs to my study, tried the key in the lock of the Rose Box, and it opened without any difficulty, and what was inside did not surprise me at all: It contained the papers that Frank was working on. I took these papers over to my desk, and then spent the rest of the day going through them, one by one. The top paper was the most recent, and dealt with the meeting Frank had with William Lincoln. It was a full summary of the meeting, and it was quite clear that Jane had typed this out for Frank. His conclusion was that the Study Group was getting close to finding out who was behind the murders, and that somebody was now trying to distract attention. What appeared to anger Frank, was the obvious transparency of the accusation against Sol, not the accusation itself. This struck Frank as being unprofessional, and I thought that this was unwise on Frank's part, considering that he lost his wife, and nearly his own life shortly after. Frank was also concerned how Lincoln had involved his son Jack in this business, and how Jack was of a different opinion, drawing the not so obvious conclusion that Frank was being used. I recalled that Lincoln had used

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the term patsy to describe Frank's role on the Study Group. My questions were really addressing the issue whether Sol was using the Study Group for covert purposes. I memorised this material, before moving on. The rest of his papers were mostly dealing with his various projects. It would appear that Frank jotted down the fullest clarification of his ideas, then put them away to ferment in the Rose Box, not unlike how musicians work on pieces of music. It should be quite possible to obtain a good picture of what he was thinking and working on, just before his accident, providing me with the much needed insight into his mind. Much of this was fascinating reading at the time. It still is. What surprised me most, when I thought about it later, was how much I was able to understand what he was doing. We had an affinity of mind, that enabled me to grasp what he was doing. I decided to spend the rest of the day reading this material, until I had some idea of the drift of his creative mind. Just before the lunch break, a call came through from Phibbs: Could I agree to a meeting at 2 p.m. tomorrow, Friday 31 August? That was quick, I thought, and agreed to this instantly. Jack would be with us later today, and I would be able to question him about this, before my meeting. I wondered whether I should notify Prasad. I did not want to scare off my visitor, by having English bobbies behind every bush, so I decided to inform 205

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Colin, and leave him to make the arrangements, hoping that they would be discreet. After lunch, I returned to my study to read more of Frank's papers. Frank was so clear in what he was doing, even when he was unclear, stating so, working from there, clarifying his own fog as he went. He took his work seriously, and what became obvious was how Jane shared his concerns. Her neat little notes were all over every document. I worked back in the reverse order they were in the Rose Box first, and could read them again in the correct time order. I had to read many of these papers a number of times, because they had to be mastered as a whole. By dinner time, I had mastered most of what Frank was doing, I decided to add my own comments to the Rose Box after dinner. The question was how? My own dyslexic scrawl would be as good as useless. I could not ask Jill to do this work for me, and had no computer or even a typewriter, which were my usual means of taking notes. I would have to make flow-charts of my summaries, then group them into one main one. Once I had decided on this plan, most of Frank's ideas immediately grouped themselves in my mind. This would take up most of the evening, possibly longer. I told Colin that I was not to be disturbed, until Jack arrived this evening. I went through all the documents one by one, noting all topics to be included in my main summary. This would give some idea of the scope of his whole enterprise. It might also give some 206

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idea what the central theme was that motivated him. Finding a word to define this was difficult, and I put an 'x' at the hub of my main flow chart. It became obvious to me that language was one of Frank’s main fascinations. He approached language from a number of interesting angles, and one was looking at it from a lexical angle, what he called Lexical Analysis, which looked at language from angle of social anthropology, or the speech acts of what he called Language Clubs. People told us where they came from by the way they used words, and the words they used. He was finding Lexical Analysis very useful in the work he was doing for the Study Group, because with Lexical Analysis it was possible to read what people said by discovering the code beneath their main text: That code often revealed more about them, than they even knew about themselves. People told us what was behind what they said, by revealing what they were thinking, framed within their own particular language club lexicon. Another lexical aspect he was analyzing, was how he saw language as a stumbling block; namely, how lexicons prevented people from thinking straight, claiming that language tended to provide answers to problems, often blocking off the truth. Doubt was not a problem in his terms, but merely a question disguised as a negative impulse. It was language that often caused the negative impulses. Frank was recently inventing Aporetics, or the art or science of questioning, which was a matter of asking the right questions. 207

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“Questions attermine solutions” was one phrase that kept cropping up in his notes. Questions do not determine answers, like language, but truths were attermined or arrived at, not derived, by a non derivative process called Aporetical Analysis. When analysis was by derivation, or by deriving entities, he called Derivativism, or false empiricism. Answers have a life of their own, and are not determined by anything. Truth is what is, and is independent of what we say it is. The art or science of questioning was to ask right questions, that led to right solutions. Language, being a medium, tended to block off paths to answers. On the other hand, questions were the means of attermining solutions, and what we have to accept. He paraphrased Charles Darwin, that observation is always from some aporetical point of view, which was also defined by the frame of reference by which we arrived at truth (Einstein). This led to him to define Aporetics more fully, expanding upon the anthropological aspects of his work. Frank had already published papers introducing the Logic of Aporetics, inventing an Aporetical Calculus, or what he called the logic of questioning. I was to find out from Sol that the product of all this work on language, resulted in Frank working on a reply to Kant. Although Rackets People Run was intended as a reply to Eric Berne, it was also a reply to Kant, on another level. Frank explained that Kant was game calling in Berne’s terms, by confronting the gaming (insinuation) of the metaphysicians. 208

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This insight was Frank’s key to understanding Kant's Critique of Pure Reason. Kant was racket calling in Frank's terms, and why Frank was now writing An Aporetic of Necessary Reason. Working through these papers took hours, and I found much of his thinking highly original. One particular aspect of his approach I found even more fascinating: Frank contrasted Physic (Medicine) with Metaphysic (Religion), as polar relationships, and then contrasted Necessary Reason (Art or Science) with Sufficient Reason (Law). Frank postulated that Science asserted as Law is wrong. True Science is conjecture, not answers, and should be a tool for asking the right questions. Science as Law, Frank called Scientism (scientific fundamentalism), and was an academic or intellectual racket; postulating a false point of view, was lexically manipulative, illogically unfair in attermining a true state of affairs. At this stage of my first read of Frank’s papers, Colin apologised for disturbing me, and told me that Jack had arrived. He had shown him to his rooms, and was now preparing a meal. I immediately tidied up my papers, and put them away neatly in the Rose Box. I had seen more than enough to be getting on with, and could easily finish what I was doing another time.

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Jack Jack was waiting for me, when I arrived in the dining room, and I did my best to greet him warmly, by giving him a brief firm touch on one arm, as well as shaking hands formally with the other. There was some ice to break, and I wanted to signal this straight away. He told me that he had heard from the younger Mr Phibbs, that my meeting had been arranged with somebody he knew, called Lyndon Riley. This concerned him deeply, and it became obvious to me that Jack still felt guilty over Frank's accident. It became clear that my features were different from what he expected, and he took some time getting used to me. I decided that I had best find out about this person he called Lyndon Riley, and asked, ‘Who is Lyndon Riley, Jack?’ ‘He is either Australian or South African, and has been in America. Lyndon Riley approached Bill Lincoln, to contact me through a chap I knew at Oxford, who was involved with the Evangelicals.’ ‘That was a round about way of contacting you, Jack. Why did not they contact you in a more direct fashion?’ ‘We have already had this out, Dad. It was a very delicate business, and they did not know how to contact you discreetly.’ ‘You must forgive me Jack, but I am a new man. My memory is fine as far the family history is concerned, but I am completely blank as far as my own recent life is concerned.’ Jack looked

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away, obviously feeling guilty at the mention of my loss of memory. ‘We had best to start afresh, and work from there. I would like to know: What is he, this Lyndon Riley?’ ‘He is the Rev Lyndon Riley, an ordained minister of one of the American churches, and is very well informed on the Sabbateans, Frankists, Illuminists, and all the other anti Christian forces.’ ‘Do you know what Church that is, Jack?’ ‘No! He is what we call Biblical Christian, and it is very confusing, when they move freely between churches.’ I thought on that, and asked more bluntly, ‘What is the connection between Bill Lincoln and Lyndon Riley?’ ‘Bill Lincoln attends the church that has occasional visiting preachers, and Lyndon Riley preaches there frequently. They meet afterwards, and talk about what is going on. They usually have a meal together.’ ‘Any idea which one of them raised the question of Frankist plots?’ ‘Lyndon use to bring that sort of thing into his sermons, and does not hide the fact he is well informed. Bill Lincoln is also well informed, and visited Oxford frequently. We use to talk about this quite a lot in those days, where your interest in secret society history was no great secret. My friends had the impression we talked about your work at home, and so they thought I knew more.’

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Obviously Frank has been protective here, and had not shared much with Jack. Possibly, I should start amending that mistake straight away. ‘I suppose you were not in a hurry to dispel that notion. In that way you would be able to pick up what you did not know, without letting on?’ I asked smiling. ‘It was something like that Dad. Mind you, I have read an awful lot of your books at Pongo.’ ‘Anyway, Jack, they thought the best way of getting at me, was through you?’ ‘They were very shocked when you turned them down flat.’ ‘They are probably just as shocked that I am now willing to see them. Have you any idea what they want to tell me?’ ‘They told me that they knew that your friend Lord Bekov was a Frankist, and that he is using you.’ ‘What evidence do you think they might produce to convince me?’ ‘They would not tell me, and said they would speak only to you.’ I was thinking over the reasons why Jack would listen to them, when he suggested, ‘I think I should come along tomorrow.’ ‘No! No! That is not a good idea. You should remain here. It would not be a good idea to risk two generations in this sort of adventure. After all, you now have a future wife to consider.’ Jack responded to this positively, because it became clear to him that I was asking him to join 212

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me in the conspiracy of finding out about these people. This was the beginning of bringing us together. I was making it clear to him that I was not prepared to risk his life. After clearing these matters, we discussed business for the rest of our talk, and hardly talked about his marriage plans, much to our disgrace, some would say. Our conversation was all about horses and the estate. This was where Jack was most keen to tell me everything he knew, and he held nothing back. All secrets were revealed to me. I learnt all that anybody could learn from such a good teacher as Jack. My memory was filling up with everything I should know about my life, and Jack was very keen to fill those gaps. There were a few moments when I felt guilty, and should tell Jack everything about myself, because he was being so totally honest with me. Since then I have often wondered whether all racketeers feel twangs of bad conscience, or whether they also acquired special immunity, and knack of coming to terms with bad consciences. I certainly took my position in life for granted after meeting Jack, and have felt very much the family man ever since. There is clearly an element of deception in life, we all have to take for granted, and I probably moved spiritually into that world during my first talk with Jack.

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Delphine I slept soundly again, despite my work on the Rose Box, another late night, and the excitement of the previous day. I thought that in time I might take sound sleep for granted. My breakfast tasted really delicious, and nothing in The Times could possibly disturb my peace of mind that Friday morning. The Tory government was now running out of support. The Whigs of The Times rejoiced at their misfortune, calling them Tory Socialists at every opportunity. I gathered this was a dirty word, equating them with National Socialism, and a term that implied everything that was wrong about the bad statist period of British political history. From The Times article, I now understand this to mean the period that began shortly after Disraeli and Gladstone, which was considered one long series of ghastly disasters, until the end of the Second World War. This was a view that I was beginning to share myself, viewing the world from my dressing room window, while eating a well cooked breakfast, and was beginning to take The Times world view for granted. It was expressing my views far too adequately to disturb me very seriously, even when it reported bad news. Bad news was always what happened to other people, usually Tories. I dressed in a less hurried manner, and felt my responsibilities must have something to do that. I had two children to consider, and should act the part. It was all a matter of being who you

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are. My memories might be different, but my new being was grounded in here and now. Family and friends expected me to be what I appeared to be, although I still had some doubts who I was, which translated into what Frank called aporetic: Was I buying into my own fraud? What choice had I in the matter? Was I now being manipulative? What choice had I? Was it legitimate to walk about as somebody else? Was that fair on those I called my children? My own aporetic of necessary reason told me that I had no way back from this world, which I now loved. The choice had been made for me, because my fiction was not my own creation. I met Delphine in this frame of mind, as I came down the stairs into the hall. She instantly gave me a warm American hug, and said in a delightfully melodious colonial voice, ‘I suppose you are Pop,’ suggesting New England. I was stuck for a reply. Fortunately Jack came on the scene, and quickly said, ‘Oh! So you have met Delphine.’ ‘You mean that Delphine has met me,’ I quickly replied, which brought instant laughter from both of them, and I gestured to move to the drawing room, with the idea of getting a much closer look at both of them. They were an impressive pair. Although Delphine was the younger, she was the more mature, and certainly looked the stronger. Jack was well tanned, strong and healthy looking, but had a slightly youthful look about him. Frank had obviously not given him his way in life, and had 215

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been over protective. That much I had found out last night. I now found Delphine a self-composed person, although not entirely in my company. She had a tendency to blush: very rare with American girls in my experience, and this compensated for the self confident way she carried herself, which expressed a view that New England is England, only much more so. We instantly struck up a conversation, which was too quick to relate properly, because they both anticipated what each other was about to say. My own part was merely to steer them along, letting them tell me what they were doing, and what they planned for their future. What I found out was that Delphine was a younger daughter, and had two elder brothers. This explained her confident manner with men, and possibly her tendency to blush. Elder brothers tended to tease kid sisters. She was now free to marry an English gentleman, and loved the whole idea of being with horses. They had met at a training station, somewhere in America, and it had been a love match from the start. Their love of horses cemented a relationship that had been established on sight. I became aware they had made plans, and I could be in their way, if I was not sensitive. So I quietly brought into our first talk my own plans to continue what I was doing, and how I must go on chairing the Study Group. It was time for the next generation to run the farm. Dawes was getting on in years, and had need of support. They wanted 216

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to keep things as they were, and wished to keep the family tradition of keeping staff on, until they decided to retire. Delphine was wonderful here. She had already met Jinx, who drove her from the station, and had ridden beside him for a time. She had also had a fine time talking with Mrs Walsh, my housekeeper. Delphine even told me things I could not possibly know about my own staff, such as Mrs Welsh being related to the housekeeper at Totteridge. It was a delight to see how Jack was so proud of Delphine. He had recently lost his mother, and Delphine was now filling a great gap, meeting all his present needs, and probably his life. I hoped so. Jack deserved to be happy. After our long talk in the drawing room, we had lunch, and I then prepared for my meeting with Lyndon Ryley at the Abbey. Colin carefully briefed me on security arrangements, which would be very discreet. My behaviour was to be natural and normal, and he would remain in the carriage, with Jinx, telling me where I could walk with my visitor. I was glad to find that these were mostly where I would normally go. This was a side of Colin that I had not seen before, and wondered how my grandfather found him. Colin certainly knew something about security. As I made our way to our waiting carriage, Jack and Delphine were looking on, talking to Jinx. There was a certain degree of unease with Jack. He looked more worried than he was willing to show, and I instantly felt anxiety might do him the world of good. This meeting was partly his 217

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responsibility, and I needed to go ahead alone, letting him feel some of the burden, without there being any risk to him personally. This might make him more circumspect in future, when people might try to approach me through him. Without too much ceremony, we set off for the Abbey. I was on the point of asking Colin how he knew so much about security, when he opened the subject himself. ‘This is a little bit like old times, Sir, with me. I looked after an old general, before your grandfather found me. I jumped at the chance of serving you. This is keeping my hand in.’ I decided to leave it at that, and did not ask him about his mysterious American general, who needed top security, nodding, and said somewhat frivolously, ‘Glad to have you along for the ride Colin!’ and instantly lapsed into silence, considering my statement melodramatic. Colin laughed out loud, taking my trifle as a joke, and making a typical British understatement. As we skirted the village of Pongbourne, Chief Inspector Prasad appeared from behind one of the bushes, and looked as if he was enjoying the country air. He had a few brief words with Colin, only nodding at me out of respect. I took this to mean that he still did not really approve of my wandering around like this. He would rather I was under much tighter control. I was surprised how much authority Colin was able to exert over him, and we were soon on our way again. 218

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We arrived at the Abbey on time, and there were very few people about. I was beginning to wonder what bushes Prasad’s bobbies were hiding behind, when a vehicle turned up, with Lincoln driving. His passenger got out resolutely, then instantly walked towards our carriage, and I was able to get a very clear view of this gentleman's athletic frame. He had the air of somebody who could have held any number of tough occupations, but it was very difficult imagining him wearing a dog collar. Only at that moment did I understood what all the fuss was about. He was a person who should not be trifled with. Only a foolhardy person would decide to hold lone meetings with him.

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Lyndon Kelly I stepped down from our carriage slowly and surely, quite casually walking towards him, then heard myself say, in a more relaxed voice than my usual, ‘Lyndon Riley I presume!’ This remark did not bring much of a smile upon his rough pocked marked face, and moving his head in a half mock gesture of respect, said, ‘Sir Francis!’ I immediately gestured to take a walk away from our vehicles. As I said, there were not many people about that morning, and so I directed him where I knew would probably have even fewer people milling around. He took it all in his athletic stride, and viewed the whole place, without giving anything away. It was very difficult saying what he thought, whether with disapproval, or disgust, or whether he regarded the place as holy ground. That had been my intention: If he was what I thought he was, he would be extra careful to conceal what he thought, which would create some degree of tension within him. Also he was not on his own ground, in the present tense, but mine. This was his choice, and he may have made a bad choice, if he wished to conceal. Silence was my best tactic of creating tension within him, and I could observe that my silence discomforted him. He needed action, talk, distraction, and noise. His athleticism told me everything I needed to know

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about him. I waited until we were at a certain spot in the Abbey, and then asked, ‘You have something to tell me Mr Riley?’ He immediately tried to pace me, which told me he had some idea what I was doing, waiting a few seconds before replying, ‘Why now Sir Francis? Why did you turn me down last time?’ ‘Let that be water under the bridge Mr Riley. A lot has happened since then. I would now like to hear what you have to say. I am now a different man, whose memory is a clean slate. You need have no fear I shall reject what you say, because I have no recollection of any past meetings.’ ‘I heard,’ he replied, ‘I am sorry about your wife,’ looking at where the Cross could have been, then adding, ‘It was a sad business,’ as if he were talking to some other person, rather than to me. I walked a few yards from him, and sat down on some masonry, looking at him directly for a few seconds, before asking, ‘Well! What have you to tell me?’ ‘Your son has surely told you?’ I gestured with my hands that I had heard it all, but what of it? I sat looking at him directly. He looked away, this time away from the Abbey, then back at me, ‘You are being led up the garden path by your Frankist friend Bekov.' ‘What evidence do you have?’ He again looked away, well away from the Abbey. He could not move, because I was seated. 221

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He could only circle around me. He knew that if he moved, some moves might give something away. This increased tension within him. So I remained seated, even making myself more comfortable, which I thought might show some disrespect to the place in his eyes, increasing tension within him. I was about to ask again, when he said, ‘It is not all that easy to produce evidence. It is mostly confidential, secrets in some cases.’ ‘We are alone Mr Riley. I am a Christian gentleman. My word is my bond. What you say may go no further. I shall certainly use what you tell me, but what confidences are given under promises will be kept.’ I decided to repeat that in stronger terms, ‘I will not swear on this holy place, but you know my word is my bond.’ There was a slight suggestion of mock contempt around his lips, which gave something away. This might have suggested he did not entirely look upon a man of honour as reliable, ‘Your friend Sol Bekov is deeply involved in all kinds of secret society organisations. I have numerous contacts in that world, who tell me things. He is not the noble lord, or the innocent doctor of divinity he appears.’ I got up, and made my way in the direction of another part of the Abbey, which would force him to follow me, releasing some of the tension within him. He then continued justifying, ‘He has always been a Freemason, and is not ignorant of their secret activities.’ 222

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‘You have evidence for all this?’ ‘I have contacts. What sort of proof do you want? It often is one's man word against another in this secret society business, as you understand yourself.’ I decided to quash that. ‘No Mr Riley, I do not understand. I have never been involved, nor would ever consider joining any society of people that did not tell me what their aims or purposes were, or the names of their top people.’ He was about to reply, but stopped himself. I guessed he was about to justify the existence of secret societies. At this point we could see the way we had come, and I decided to walk in that direction, to concentrate his mind. I had not said that the meeting was at an end, but the direction we were taking might suggest that. ‘I need more information Mr Riley. At the moment, all you have told me is that Lord Bekov is a Freemason, and you claim he is misleading me. All this I may check out, by talking to him, repeating to him what you have said, without telling him my source.’ He instantly froze, and started to blurt out, ‘But that would be quite pointless. It is my word against his, and he would deny anything I might say.’ At was at that point it became clear to me that he became aware, I was aware, that what he was saying was not his argument, and I could see he was speaking on behalf of others. He was not 223

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speaking for himself, and could see the weakness of his own position. I stopped at that point, and gestured in the direction leading towards the path to the Pilgrims Way. There were a number of people close by, and that would suit my purpose for the next stage, and whispered quietly, ‘It is very clear to me, Father Riley, that you are here on behalf of others.’ He did not react or freeze, but revealed he was inwardly digesting what I said. At that point, we were walking near people, and I was leading him in a direction away from them. Only when we were alone, did he decide to reply, ‘You see the weakness of my position, Sir Francis!’ in a voice that was quite different from the one he had used so far. It was a whisper, but had authority. I replied to him in matter of fact voice, ‘Let me show you the Pilgrims Way, and the roses that bear the name of the Abbey.’ ‘The roses symbolised the name, but do not bear it,’ he corrected me instantly. ‘True! Very true! My family still bears the motto: By Grace, Through the Life of the Spirit,’ turning to him as I spoke. I detected a slight lessening of tension, and this was probably because I was showing trust in him: taking him away from people. This enabled him to feel freer to talk. He could now tell me all he needed to say in confidence. It was only when we had reached the roses at the crossing of the 224

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Pilgrims Way, that I could see how he started to relax properly. Nobody was about, so I suggested we walk to Roselings, the slight incline along the Pilgrims Way, and he agreed. This was the first time that I had asked him to do anything, and that seemed to be the right thing to do. This gesture signalled to him that he was now fully in charge of what he needed to tell me.

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A Paedophile Priest When I had called him Father Riley, he had inwardly confessed straight away to himself. So was able to admit as much to me, without much inner resistance, and was now able to give voice to what he needed to say. He told me frankly that he was an unfrocked priest, for what he called certain sexual indiscretions. I helpfully suggested they were Capri type sins, of the kind that the cardinals of Rome were entrapped. He did not deny this, and told me that he had some basic moral defect, which he had always found great difficulty mastering. The picture I was soon receiving, as he painfully narrated his life, was that he had been deliberately framed to do dirty work for what Percival had called the Black Illuminati, and he admitted to me that he was far too clever to have remained in his calling, without being a problem priest. Entrapment was a release in one sense. His high intelligence rested on him uneasily. Once he had been enrolled as a soldier, rather than as a priest, he spent his psychic energies in building up his athletic frame, although this had not satisfied his intelligence at all, but had merely symbolised energy that would have otherwise been spent in sins that had originally entrapped him. He was deeply relieved to be able to talk to somebody, who was able to understand what he was telling me. Lyndon Riley told me he was one of those poor souls who had been working for evil people

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most of his life, but had always wanted to escape. They had baited him, and he had been hooked, but a better part of him wished to be free of the whole nasty business. What I was now offering him was a few precious minutes of freedom to unburden himself. We spent most of our time covering the ground at our first meeting, and I filled in some missing information on the Illuminati. The world had certainly changed for the good since the War, although these evil people had continued working. Delinquency has always needed institutions in which to perpetuate itself. People like Riley were trawled in without much effort, and soon became a part of the evil process. Over the years he had served them well, with the great difference that the good part of him wanted to be free of them. I could not work out what it was that had given him his motive for good, but became convinced of his deep sincerity. I also became deeply concerned for his safety, as we walked between Roselings and the rose bushes, although few people walked along the Pilgrims Way that day. So we decided to cover ground, before holding further meetings. I varied the level of my voice, to appear to engage in what he was saying, but really moderating his voice, and decided to raise the issue of meeting and security, as we walked back to the roses, on one occasion, saying, ‘How are we to meet in future, Father Riley? This may not be an ideal place to meet, from your own point of view.’ 227

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‘Yes! Possibly true! It is also true to say that the reason for our meeting is thin, as it stands, as you were the first to point out. I have told them many times that accusing Bekov was a weak case, but they still insisted.’ He turned to me, and looked me straight in the eye, ‘I must tell you I was not responsible for any tampering with your vehicle.’ ‘They know you are here with me?’ I replied calmly, ignoring his need to make an apology. ‘They know I am seeing you somewhere, but I did not tell them where. Only Bill knows where I am.’ ‘He is a sort of cutout for them, I suppose.’ He thought this over, and was not entirely sure how to respond, and said quietly, ‘Bill does not know that, and only knows I am an evangelical pastor, and discussing dangers to Church and Christian civilisation. He is deeply interested in my concerns with Frankist plots, and with this Bekov business.’ ‘They know of our meeting in Pongbridge with him?’ ‘Yes! They think he is merely a fool, and a gullible fool at that.’ ‘And you, Father Riley?’ I asked bluntly. ‘I cannot talk to him, like I may to you. Biblical Christians provide cover, and easy cover at that, and we are able to further our aims by using their purely literal understanding of the 228

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Word. I am able to trust Bill only within his own very literal frame of reference.’ ‘It is the easiest pretence in the world to be a Biblical Christian,’ I replied, in a matter of fact kind of way. ‘However, it is not always easy to be a true Christian?’ This implied question was probably taking our established intimacy a little too far at that moment, and I regretted saying it. He took his time before replying, ‘For me, Yes!’ he replied quietly. ‘My moral defect means that I do have to hide my face from God. It matters little where I hide. All places are the same. I am probably as easily at home with the Fundamentalists, as I would be in any other hiding place.’ I had opened this up, and now had to finish it, and so asked, ‘Is there nothing in Scripture, or in the traditions of the Church, that gives you hope that you may not need to hide your face any more?’ We had reached the rose bushes, and the path back to the Abbey, ‘I suppose I would not be talking to you like this, if I had given up all hope of redemption.’ This time I had to consider the significance of what he had replied. He was saying that he put his trust in me, and that his own ability to seek redemption and salvation was bound up with my meeting him. I gestured to the path back to the Abbey, and finally said, 229

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‘Fair enough,’ touching his arm, ‘then let us discuss how we are going meet again.’ We decided possible meeting places on our way back to the Abbey, after exploring a number of places, which he rejected, I finally suggested we could meet at the home of Dr. Price, at my Congregational chapel in London, although we would have to find good reasons for doing so. He would probably have to give an impression that he was convincing me that Sol was a traitor to our cause, and was producing evidence. This might provide more than enough scope to hear more of what he had to tell, whilst helping him find his own way back to God. Before we made our way to our vehicles, I gestured to the Abbey to him, and he thankfully left me, to make a quiet prayer. On returning, he asked me under his breath, ‘And you, Sir Francis?’ ‘Ah! My life has been one long very difficult wrestle with God. It is never ending.’ At that, he quickly turned, and made his way to his vehicle, without further comment. They drove away immediately. When I arrived at our carriage, our horses looked as if they were eager to go, so I got in the carriage, when Colin immediately gave the word to move off. We drove off without a word spoken. Our drive back was mostly in silence, and I had so much to think about. Only when we met Prasad again, did we stop for a few seconds. Colin quickly took charge, and we were soon on our 230

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way again. I was relieved that Prasad was only interested in my security, and not what had taken place. He looked like he had a delightful day out. It was then that I decided it was time to invite Sol down to Pongbourne. We had so much to talk about.

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Tiff with Mary On arriving back at the Manor, Mary was waiting for me, and first to greet me. I was on the point of giving her a really good hug of relief, when she made a number of acute comments on the total foolishness of my meeting with Lyndon Riley. At that, I quickly replied, ‘Come with me please!’ walking off, and she immediately followed, when I was able to explain I was working on Frank's papers, and that I would spend most of next week working on them. I asked her, ‘Could Sol come down to discuss this work with me?’ Mary saw through my wish to avoid dealing with my meeting with Riley, but discuss these papers with her. She was not totally ignorant of the confidential nature of what might have taken place at the Abbey. It must have been clear to her that I now needed to discuss many issues with Sol, because he had been so close to what Frank was doing. Only Sol could enlighten so much of what I was now mastering. Mary's quick response was to go over to my conference phone, put a call through to Sol, and I listened to their brief exchanges. He immediately agreed to come down Saturday morning. He told her that we could spend as long as we wished in talk next week, because he had little to do. I then sat down at my desk, whilst Mary sat down in an opposite chair, still expecting me to

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tell her something about the meeting. All I could do was to ask questions, that might give her some clue to what might have passed between Riley and myself. I was determined not break my word, and started asking her about Sol's Masonic connections. ‘Frank and Sol had private agreements, which they shared with few other people. Even I was not privy to everything these two were doing. It was professional work, and I was called in on some occasions, but they mostly worked on these projects alone.’ ‘Any idea what these projects were?’ ‘They both shared a close interest in the intellectual history of how the Frankists and the Illuminati had worked together, and what was going on with the Rothschild side of the Frankfurt conspiracy, now that usury finance capitalism had been abandoned. Very few people had taken an interest in this aspect of modern history, while Frank and Sol had done so from the moment they had met. It was not something that was private or secret. It was rather an interest that only they studied closely. I left them to it.’ ‘Did this involve either of them becoming Freemasons?’ ‘Sol has always been one. He studied law shortly after coming to this country. His Masonic connections came in handy, when Sol needed to protect himself from Fascists, and Tory Socialists. A law degree was a good means of defence, so was Freemasonry.’ 233

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‘Did Frank ever become a Freemason?’ ‘No! Frank took an interest in it, but would never join any body he could not fathom at first. Frank probably knew more about Freemasonry than most members of the Brotherhood. This was an academic interest though, in the intellectual history of Freemasonry. He was never a useful idiot of transference institutions.’ I was glad that Frank shared my views on Freemasonry, and I had replied to Riley correctly that day. Also Mary’s mention of transference institutions interested me immediately. ‘What of Sol then? Was he a victim of a transference institution?’ ‘No! No! Interest in that was what brought them together. They both took an interest in this phenomenon. Sol was a member of a number of these institutions, but said he was never hooked within the transference process, claiming he was an angler, not a fish.’ ‘And Frank was never within any of these institutions at all, and so could study the process of transference more objectively outside. Is that it?’ I asked, finally getting the picture. ‘Yes! As I say, Sol was completely immune. Nobody could possibly brainwash Sol, or capture his soul. He is far too unique. Any group mindset is completely foreign to his singular nature.’ ‘I follow! Experts say that 20% of the population are like that, and that another 20% are easily brainwashed, another 60% are variable. It is clear to me that Frank and Sol are obviously 234

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in the first 20%. They must have found that out at their first meeting, at Cambridge, when they decided to work together on transference.’ ‘What was behind this? I never understood it, and left them to it.’ ‘This would allow Sol to go behind enemy lines, as it were, and Frank would be a kind of control, sharing what Sol brought back from Sol's close study of transference phenomenon at Masonic meetings. Does that make sense?’ ‘That makes much sense, now you mention it, but you will have to talk to Sol about it.’ Mary did not appear to have grasped the significance of what they were researching, and that is why Frank and Sol had not confided in her. I was not surprised. Mary then confirmed what I guessed, by saying, ‘I never understood why men joined such bodies, nor why Frank found them interesting. If they were studying the transference institutional side of secret societies, then they were probably the only people doing so.’ ‘Did you not study transference, when you were studying the criminal personality?’ I asked, rather sharply, ‘Surely, transference comes into prison life? Do not criminals pass on their wicked mode of life by a kind of perverse transference process? Are not the many criminal fraternities, transference institutions?’ This was too much Mary. She had missed something that had been under her eyes for many decades, and Frank and Sol had never shared this 235

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insight with her. This shocked her. She thought they had shared things with her, and here was a whole field where they had not. I sat back in my chair, while she worked this out in her mind, and waited until she appeared to be ready. I thoughtfully suggested, ‘I think it is quite possible that Frank and Sol had been seeking to penetrate the other side, in a kind of reverse Frankist conspiracy. I doubt they would not tell you, because they may have considered their project as a one off. They would either be successful, or not. There was no point in involving everybody. Sol would penetrate these institutions, and they would then work out their findings together.’ Mary listened to me carefully, and was quite obviously taking it all in. However, she still looked somewhat discomforted. ‘Their product became finally worked out in the Frankist Study Group. You were all there to help the two of them, although they did not wish to involve all of you in this core work.’ ‘It would certainly be very dangerous to Sol’ Mary said, speaking in a very soft voice. I looked doubtful at this, and was about to reply, when Mary said, ‘Sol has a mischievous side to his nature. His sense of humour would always be uppermost. He has lived that life for as long as I have known him. Adventure and danger would appeal to him.’ ‘The only danger was to Sol. All the time it was only Sol doing the penetrating. If he had 236

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involved you all, then that might have been quite dangerous,’ I suggested, hoping this would pacify Mary to some extent. Mary finally said, ‘The old devil!’ and we both laughed, and I knew Mary had almost accepted the significance of what they had been doing. ‘It would be a good idea for you to work on Frank’s papers in the Rose Box, dealing with the transference side of their work,’ I suggested to Mary. ‘What I have been doing is making out flow charts of all of his papers, in the hope that I shall be able to make a summary of all his work on one flow chart. My aim is to have a rough summary of what he was doing. It is becoming clear to me that both of them were deeply concerned with the long term plans of the Sabbs.’ ‘That is why Frank wanted to imagine what life would be like, if we had not achieved what we had since the War. It never entirely made sense to me, their bothering their heads over what a few conspirators were doing.’ ‘Mary, that is how it all started! People living as late as the 1870s, would not have bothered their heads about a few conspirators. Yet, look what happened within only fifty years.’ ‘But look around you Francis. Why bother about conspirators now, when you see people so content with themselves, and their stable system of government. Why bother our heads with the delusions of a few crazy criminal conspirators?’ 237

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‘As I said, within fifty years, the delusions of conspirators had become a political reality in the Russian Revolution, and the groundwork of Fascist Italy and Nazi Germany was being laid. History is mostly an underground stream. We ignore this underground stream at our peril. It nearly always erupts into political life eventually.’ Mary was not convinced, and replied, ‘I wonder where their study of transference comes into obsessions with conspiracies.’ This was too much for me. The connection was there, for all to see, and Mary asking this question gave me some idea what Frank had to put up with. I had the same experience with Mary in childhood, and remembered the great shock she experienced learning things for the first time. ‘It is obvious to me,’ I replied, possibly a little impatiently, ‘that what interested Sol and Frank, was how the underground stream of crazy ideas came to be cunningly embedded in racket conspiracies, planning to capture the next generation. Sol would work within the transference institutions themselves, whilst Frank mainly studied the intellectual history side. Although he read PPT at Oxford, intellectual history was his main interest, going by what I see in his library.’ ‘I could never work out how they were all connected. Frank would be reading one thing one minute, then reading something totally unrelated the next. It was very puzzling, and it was not so obvious. You say it is obvious, and there is some 238

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obvious connection between conspiracies and transference. You are being as dogmatic as Frank. He was always saying something was obvious, when it was not. How is it so very obvious? I hope you are not already picking up some of Frank's bad habits.’ ‘It was obvious from the point of view of conspirators,’ I replied irritated. ‘Conspirators never give up. They are always plotting and planning the future, scheming, seeking to destroy all transference institutions in their way. They write great foolish tomes of pseudo academic scholarship, cynical criticism of all established religions and governments, and put in their place, countless baits of specious arguments, supported by surreptitious hooks of spurious logic, in ever greater sophistical delusions. It is upon these specious baits, they hook whole generations of people, seeking to entrap them in a transference process of their own making. That is how master criminals tap the underground stream of history.’ After saying this, I immediately thought I had said more than enough. I knew from my own bitter experience of her more than half a century ago, that once Mary Landau had merged two notions, she would accept such connections, even repeating it back to me how obvious it was. ‘Shall we have lunch, then do a little work on Frank’s papers,’ I asked in a different voice.

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Incolant Conditions During lunch, Mary was friendly, but still a little distant. Two shocks in one day were enough. I did my best to be kind to her, although this probably made things worse. There had been a difference between her and Frank, and that had troubled her. What she found out today revealed another great difference: Frank had not taken much trouble explaining this difference to her. He had given up on her, which had hurt. Mary was a typical woman. She thought she understood men, but was completely in the dark, when it came down to brass tacks. Frank had made adjustment, and accepted Mary was not likely to understand certain aspects of his work. So he worked with Sol. Mary wanted to have her cake, and eat it. She wanted to know where they differed, yet still wanted their relationship to continue, as if they did not differ. That is what I mean by being a typical woman: Men tend to face up to their differences, by making adjustments in their various relationship. Women appear to operate by a different set of criteria. I marveled at the differences between men and women, while still enjoying my lunch. Mary was pensive, not quite sure why I was so perky, and cocksure. I had to be very careful what I said, or I could have made things worse. It was a matter of being diplomatic. Mary had to make adjustments to her inner polity. Whatever I said could be wrong, because I had been so right. One

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wrong word from me, and my afternoon work would be ruined, as far as help with Frank's papers were concerned. So I had to keep mum, and my words to the very minimum. I had no intention of giving Mary grounds for picking an argument with me. After lunch, we settled down to work on Frank's papers in my study. My desk was one of those large old partner type desks, where two people could work on it, facing each other. I had cleared it completely, putting the two picture frames on top of a bookcase, where they have remained ever since. I always left the Rose Box where it was, and never moved it from its corner. Only if something happened to me, would it ever be moved again. Despite this little tiff with Mary, I was settling in, and felt more at home more than ever. Work on Frank's papers would help this process. Mary sensed this too, and was sympathetic to the necessity of doing our work together, and had her own reasons, going by her comments. Her need was to find out more about the Frank she had not really known, and possibly find out how I differed from Frank, or shared his features. My sympathies were with the female mind, and their great need to make these emotional adjustments, and how this would help with the task in hand. I also needed Mary to be aware of these aspects, which would be a great help in making sense of the papers in the Rose Box. 241

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I was doing a little more work on what Frank called Aporetics, or the art of science of questioning, when Mary suddenly said, ‘Frank calls people who are living spiritually within a transference institution, an Incolant Condition, calling the process by which they become inhabitants, Incolant Conditioning. He then defines Incolant Conditioning as "group knowledge of [or control over] the delivery of group reinforcements in a given shared situation as both a necessary and sufficient condition for the prediction [or control] of group behaviour." Do you follow that?’ ‘He is stealing ideas from Skinner and the behaviourists, redefining Operant Conditioning, within the frame of social psychology. Frank is redefining Behaviourism as a form of transference behaviour. As I said the other day, all Naturalists (Behaviourists) tend to make false assumptions, that we are all born with blank slates.’ Mary thought on this for few moments, ‘They believe that it is all a matter of filling up blank slates, what social engineers want to put there. Is that what you mean?' 'Yes! We are not born with a blank slate, and social biology teaches us we are born with very real needs, exactly as Eric Berne described them; as hungers. Modifying behaviour is not a matter of filling up blank slates, but the important matter of satisfying sensible needs. Behaviourists get things the wrong way round. Knowledge of 242

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reinforcements does not always create behaviour, but more likely distort it.’ ‘Under necessary and sufficient conditions, Frank says here,’ Mary replied, reading further, ‘Healthy upbringing is a matter of what Dr. Price calls epigenesis; which is defined as satisfying needs, with rational reinforcements.’ ‘Behaviourists pretend that we may change behaviour to whatever we like, which is false.’ ‘Where does this transference thing come into changing behaviour?’ Mary asked simply. ‘You could say that the Behaviourists are trying to create a transference institution, based upon their belief system. This certainly works to a degree, sufficiently to convince behaviourists, proving they have created an Incolant Condition.’ ‘You say Frank is basing his definition upon Operant Conditioning?’ ‘He is correcting their definition, to mean that conditioning is never entirely based upon stimulus and response. That is a Naturalistic fallacious mechanistic model. We must always remember that there is always a social reality mapped in between any stimulus and response; a spiritual content. It is the mapping of this social reality where transference comes into it. Both religious and secular belief systems are part of this mapping process. Transference is a name we give to some aspect of this mapping process.’ ‘What aspect is that?’ Mary asked.

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‘The early childhood model,’ I replied simply. Mary thought on that, and carried on working with her papers. Despite Mary's interruption, my grasp of some aspects of Aporetics was becoming easier to grasp, and I was soon understanding how Frank was claiming that science was conjecture, not law. The art of questioning was asking the right ones, not jumping to conclusions. In the first case, I was reminded of Carl Popper, and in the second, Sherlock Holmes. Dr. Watson was always jumping to conclusions, before Holmes had asked the right questions. Holmes always asserted he had to eliminate the impossible first, and then we had only the probable to consider. Aporetics was also a matter of finding out what could be asked, and that is what is meant by attermining solutions. Solutions to questions were never determined. That would be constructing a mechanistic model of science. Holmes rejected that, so did Popper. Solutions are arrived at, not derived. Derived answers were predetermined, often denying truth, and even the possibility of discovering it. I was immediately reminded what Kant said about our questioning Nature: that Nature only answered questions we put to Her. Frank followed this in considering conjecture as being central to all scientific research, where the claims of science would never overreach themselves in laying down the law, what could be the right question. Frank was quoting Kant in claiming that we should not 244

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conceive beyond our own resources. Science was merely a modal resource. I soon realised that I would have to talk to Sol about all this. Positivism and the science I had known, were equated here. I had already drawn the analogy of the man who claimed he was left footed, because he walked with his left foot. Other men argued from the other foot. Men with partial knowledge were the most dangerous people in the world, including scientists. Frank was suggesting a much freer way of looking at the world, and called his approach, an aporetic of necessary reason. My mind needed active dialogue here, and Mary was otherwise occupied, so I had to put these papers away, until I could talk to Sol. Mary looked up at that point, and said, ‘It would appear that transference is also the means by which transference hides itself from what Frank calls our apperception. I am reminded here of my experience with people with Vitamin B12 deficiency, which immobilises them knowing they are deficient of that Vitamin.’ ‘In the case of transference,’ I replied, ‘people may think they have insight, when really they are in a state of false consciousness. We may call this identification. Conscience and science are connected poetic realities.’ ‘Yes! I understand that. It is true that moral insight is based upon conscience, not upon social morality. Social morality is what Frank called an amoral fiction.’ 245

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‘Con people that a social demand is the common good, the very essence behind any evil common purpose, and you are on the road to conspiracy and tyranny,’ I replied. ‘Like Marxism.’ ‘People who become Marxists, acquire a state of mind where God explains everything. It is only when God fails them, when reality breaks through, when they lose their faith, and break out of their Marxist transference. Marxism is a good example of transference, group-think, and why Marxism is called the opiate of intellectuals.’ ‘I am thinking of myself,’ Mary explained. ‘Frank often told me that I could not understand what he was saying, because I was in the bosom of my family. This accusation upset me, because Frank never quite hit if off with my mother, and I always thought he was getting back at her. I have been with my mother's younger sister recently, and her influence has always been strong with me. Although I always feel comfortable after seeing her, I am always somewhat stupefied by her persuasive influence.’ ‘Jane Austen wrote Persuasion about that form of transference.’ ‘My aunt’s influence is not always good for me, yet I still take it. Here I am, a successful professional woman, and I am not stupid, yet listen to her persuasive influence, even taking her advice. When I was with you on Tuesday, I was still a highly intelligent person. After a few days 246

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with her, I am reduced to being dumbed down. Is this transference?’ ‘It would appear so Mary. There is a child side of you, who still has a strong attachment to your dear old aunt. It is not all that surprising that transference still operates? Her need is still to feel needed by you, as a reciprocating member of her family. That is how counter transference works, in tribal bonding.’ ‘Then let us deal with today. Although I have known about transference academically for many years, I could not follow fully what you were saying about transference just now. It would appear that transference makes us stupid!’ ‘Yes Mary, but not always, but has a useful function in childhood. Without the transference process in childhood, the child would be without some guide to right conduct. It is when this childhood process is taken into adulthood, that trouble starts. If people are kept in their childhood transference process all their life, they never know true adulthood, but are like children.’ ‘I now follow you! That is what Frank and Sol have been up to all these years: they have been studying these wicked people in their attempts to imprison people within their childish criminal philosophy. These evil people know what they are doing, and must know about it.’ ‘They may not know about it entirely. How we describe a phenomenon is not always with the same words. They are manipulating people with transference, that is certain.’ 247

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‘Then all rackets have a transference aspect, which makes manipulation possible. That is how they keep people in childhood?’ ‘In my world there were numerous factors. They first undermined the religious institutions, which supported the freer more adult vision of redemption and salvation. Only by doing that, could they bring back what the Reformers called the Babylonian Captivity. They had to undermine the whole educational process, so the Protestant elite no longer had the ascendancy.’ ‘It is true that this Protestant ascendency which supported the doctrine of Grace, mentioned during our meeting of the Rose the other day. This doctrine is central to the Reformation. Do you mean they used the Roman Catholic Church to bring back the Babylon Captivity?’ Mary asked. ‘Yes! As John Robison told us in his Proofs, members of the Illuminati are like a fungus in all institutions, including the Church of Rome. They had to undermine all natural processes, where the individual was allowed dignity and grace to follow their natural destiny, perversely calling their Sparticist side, Liberation Theology. It is a form of entrapment. Their secular activities have been involved in destroying small businesses, forming vast monopolies, destroying small farmers, and forming vast factory type agricultural combines. Rome is merely an example of a monopoly, and shows how easy it is to manipulate people within institutions governed by an evil common purpose. You have to imagine monopoly taken into every 248

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aspect of spiritual and temporal life. All this they have achieved, by the time I left last Saturday.’ I paused to let Mary take this in, and she was pondering all this carefully, and making connections. I concluded by telling her, ‘You may imagine my great relief to find a world that did not go down that road.’ This appeared to please Mary, and mended much of our little tiff. She thought carefully what she was going to say, looked me squarely in the eye, and said, ‘The world we see around us is really the product of the transference process; of the people who have made it so. Childhood fantasy is all part of it, surely?’ ‘As you say, part of it, yes, but not all. Possibly we need to explore what happens to the transference process in true adulthood: Does it disappear, or does it transform into what the Protestant Reformers were exploring.’ Mary listened carefully, and so I continued, ‘What the Scholastics called Learned Ignorance, is when we ignore what we already know, because of transference processes.’ ‘If that is what we mean by transference processes making people stupid, then there are an awful lot of stupid people around,’ is all that Mary could add. The rest of that day we worked away at these papers, after Mary had settled down with her new insights. We finished quite late. 249

Sol arrives Once Mary had left, I went to bed, slept soundly again, had no disturbing dream, like the week before, and woke Saturday morning even more refreshed, realising that I had now been in this world a week. It was becoming enjoyable to be able to take so much for granted, and feel at home with everything, which increased my vitality. This was not an alien world, run by aliens, but was run by people who were completely at home, which was highly infectious. This gave me a new verve for life. My ordinary routine was one which now gave me as much pleasure as anything else about my new life. My seeing Colin each morning, was like turning the pages of a book. Each day would reveal even more interesting things to discover about the world in which I found myself. I also comforted myself with the fact that I lived on a very well run estate, which ticked over like a well tempered clock. There were no massive debts burdening its efficiency. Nobody had money worries of any kind, because money was the servant, not the master of our lives. It was a world put to rights, and one I would do my upmost best to prevent any harm coming to it. Such a world bought my loyalty, and my love. Colin told me that Delphine and Jack had been up and about early. They were taking their new responsibilities very seriously, and concluded they were making up for the absence of Master from the estate. Frank had been too deeply

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concerned with State matters, and left Estate matters in the capable hands of Dawes. Both had agreed to this arrangement. However, this had not been very satisfactory. Every good manager needs somebody to share the burden of office. So Jack had kept in touch, while he was away, and phoned Dawes regularly. This is how he knew what to do when he got back, and this was Jack's first morning back. Now they were going around the whole Estate, checking up on everything with Dawes. Delphine was keen go with him, because she wished to visit the retired cottagers, and find out how well we were looking after them. I decided it would be a good idea to take a walk myself, and Colin agreed, making sure I was properly dressed. Jinx would be picking up Sol around midmorning with the carriage, and so we agreed, I would to go round the farm by buggy, arriving back in time to greet Sol. At my age, and total lack of experience, I needed somebody to take the reins. So Jinx would find some young person from the stables to do this for me, which I later found out to be his son John, who had a way with horses, that was even more impressive than his father. Jinx certainly looked on proudly, as we left the yard. Young John seemed to know what was in my mind all the time. The minute some new view came into view, he stopped, and his horse appeared to have the same animal insight. It was a pleasant hour, driving round. When we reached the furthest distance from the Manor, I asked John to drive back, leaving me 251

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to walk back on foot. We had seen enough for that day. I guessed that by the time I arrived back, Jinx should have picked up Sol, and should have arrived back at the house. Our arrangement was that we would discuss matters over lunch first, then continue during the afternoon. Mary would probably come to dinner, and join us for our evening session. Everything I had read so far pointed to the fact that Frank worked with Sol more than anybody. Sol was also Frank’s best friend, who knew more about what he was doing than anybody. It was also probable that Frank knew more about Sol than anybody. On the walk back, I cleared my mind of all that I wished to discuss with Sol. It was clear to me, by what Sol said to Mary, that he understood my need for this time with him, and he was prepared to spend as much time with me as I required. This suggested to me he was in need of my time, and I could only guess what he needed to know. When I arrived back, Dawes met me, and told me that Jack and Delphine had gone with Jinx to pick up Sol. Delphine wanted to meet Sol, who was a great mystery figure to her. I had not long to wait, before I heard the sound of the carriage wheels on the drive way, and voices in cheerful animated discussion. They were getting on famously. Sol's face was lit up with obvious delight, at proximity to Delphine, who was enjoying the fun of his quick wit. Jack looked on proudly. 252

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When Sol spotted me, waiting by the door, he gave an instant look of recognition, stepping down, offering his hand eagerly, ‘Well Francis, we have hardly said goodbye.’ ‘Indeed Sol, Welcome to Pongboune!’ is all I could say, wondering what they had been talking about on the way back. Jack and our staff busied themselves with his cases, as we went in, Delphine leading the way, offering Sol some refreshments, who declined politely, deciding we had best get down to business straight away. He had obviously won Jack over to him. I led Sol to my study, whilst Jack and Delphine attended to his belongings, making sure his rooms were ready. ‘Shall we cover a few things before lunch Sol? We could work out a more systematic agenda, following on our initial discussion. Mary may join us after dinner, and even spend the evening with us. Is that OK?’ Sol looked around him, sat down where he thought was his rightful seat, and replied, ‘Fine! Fine! Francis,’ mimicking my own stock response, and we relapsed into smiling silence, while I sat down in my own seat behind my desk. We eyed each other for a few more moments, before he agreed, ‘We could cover a few things before lunch.’ After another sufficient period of silence, I sat forward on my desk, and explained, 253

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‘You have no doubt heard that I met William Lincoln on Thursday, and met his mystery friend yesterday. I need to know what you and Frank have been up to. Much of what I know is now purely by crude inference. You two have been causing ripples.’ ‘You need to tell me everything Francis. We have much to cover. I shall put myself at your disposal for as long as you wish. Frank and I worked on a number of interesting projects. Your needing to know is understandable.’ I nodded, and replied, ‘Agreed!’ ‘You also need to tell me all you can tell me of your world. For all our years of study, Frank and I were still much in the dark, what these people were really planning to do.’ ‘I certainly know all about that. It is not a very pleasant world, exactly as John Milton predicted: A pandemonium of money grubbing people, obsessed with ruling, rather than serving, under the culture of Narcissism, now almost an evil world empire.’ ‘Let us draw up a check list first, then we may work our way through all the questions we need to ask.’ So that is what we did. By the time we were ready for lunch, we had some clear idea what we needed to cover. We then put our questions away in the Rose Box, merely following our check list in the back of our minds. 254

Told to write We decided to have a light lunch alone, during which we were able to clear up a few matters, such as my meeting with William Lincoln, and the mystery meeting on Friday. Sol was naturally curious what had taken place, ‘What did you make of Bill Lincoln?’ I wanted to answer questions on these meetings, only after we had discussed what he and Frank has been doing, and so replied simply, ‘I have to admit, not very much.’ ‘I understand he is hostile to me; thinks I am some sort of Sabb activist, and Frank was my dupe. He has very little understanding of our true situation. Frank was no dupe. Our relationship was the other way round. I was a silly dupe to do half the things Frank asked me to do.’ ‘This was to penetrate the other side?’ ‘I never needed to penetrate the Sabbs: I was already there. My family were Frankist. My parents and grandparents were totally opposed to the Sabb belief system. I was brought up to see them for what they were; the biggest religious crooks the world had ever known. Double dealing was second nature to them. It was comparatively easy to double deal back to them.’ ‘You and Frank spotted each other at Cambridge? How did that come about Sol?’ ‘We simply clicked. Frank could see through me from the start. He was working on Rackets, and met Jane in my study, who was starting work

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on preparing her own thesis. Mary told me about him, and brought him to Cambridge, to find me; somebody who understood what he was trying to say. Even today, I do not know the full plot. Mary was finishing Medicine, and Jane was still reading English Literature, after taking her degree. I was dragged in to tutor him on aspects of what he was doing. Frank ended up tutoring me.’ ‘You became his mentor?’ ‘It was more often the other way round. He put into words, what I had only an intuitive grasp. All I did was confirm how he was correct.’ ‘You decided to work together, and that it was your interest in transference that interested you both.’ ‘Yes! That is why we clicked. It was the coming together of two Martians. My role was to continue to appear to be what I was, whilst really being straight. It was our Martian immunity to transference that gave us advantages.’ ‘Frank never joined you in your escapades?’ ‘Frank was never a good actor, and could never pretend to be in transference, so was quite unsuitable to do that sort of thing. I found that easy. My parents taught me how to act during the troubles.’ ‘Mary never really understood what you two were doing. I was surprised to find out yesterday, that she never made the connection between conspiracy and transference.’ ‘We had to leave Mary behind. Besides it was too risky. Frank told me of difficulties he had 256

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with transference problems with Mary. She has always been a very bright girl. I know, because I lectured her. However, she needed a certain degree of transference to learn. Those she could not form such relationships with, were usually because of transference problems. She learnt well from me, and so I saw the bright side.’ ‘What of Jane?’ ‘Jane had her own problems, but not with transference. She was simply in love with English Literature, which is a transference institution I suppose, until Frank came along. She snapped him up, much to the surprise of Mary, who had taken Frank for granted. I think it true to say that Mary had to go abroad to recover, and was when she first took an interest in criminals.’ ‘Why was Mary so blind on transference?’ ‘Because Mary is always in transference, and so is never able to understand it, by getting outside of it. She is not a Martian.’ ‘Mary understood transference, formally, intellectually, but not in any material sense?’ ‘That is about it. We could never work on this with her. We could discuss transference with her, on an academic level, but not use it, and this was disappointing professionally to both of us.’ 'So I gather. Mary has only now woken up, and having difficulties seeing the connection between conspiracy and transference.’ ‘You may never really tell with Mary: She may have a transference relationship with you, 257

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but this new insight may evaporate the minute that relationship is threatened.’ ‘So what you and Frank were studying, was really brainwashing, by transference?’ ‘Yes! Frank held the thread, whilst I went into dangerous situations. I even tried to trick him into thinking that I had been brainwashed, but he could see through me. Frank was always Martian.' ‘What now, Sol? What of your study?’ ‘We should keep this up. You probably have most of the information Frank was asking.’ ‘Why would the other side say you were Frankist, and that Frank is being duped; a patsy?’ ‘It is because it could be true from their point of view. I have never dropped my Sabb connections. They know this, and now need to shake the tree: See what comes of it. They are not sure of me. My murder would be pointless at my age, and might give them away. Besides I have never explored deeply into their secrets, beyond our study of their transference process, which has been very much our secret.’ ‘They do not know what you are studying?’ ‘Correct! I hope Mary does not blurt out any of this to anybody. That could be a disaster.’ ‘We should see Mary later,’ I assured him. Sol thought very carefully, and then said, ‘Our working relationship should follow on from where Frank left off. You know more than I could possibly hope, and you also have the same intuitive grasp as Frank. You also have the added 258

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advantage of knowing what sort of world they are trying to create for us.’ ‘Our finding out their ultimate transference ambitions is still our first priority then?’ ‘Indeed!’ ‘I notice from his notes that Frank refers to this as the Frankfurt conspiracy.’ ‘That is how Frank and I always referred to them. We also kept that between the two of us.’ ‘Why not the Frankist Conspiracy?’ ‘It is not a helpful term, concerning what we were up against; The conspiracy that originated in Frankfurt. A Frankist Conspiracy is only helpful regarding what Frank and I were doing.’ ‘The Frankist side of this Franfurt conspiracy is certainly missing from history in my own world. What you appear to be saying is that the Frankist Conspiracy is what you call your own counter conspiracy against them.’ ‘That is about it. Every strategic decision, should have an element of deception built into it.’ ‘When did you two start Sol, in earnest?’ ‘As I said, Frank and I started aspects of the work almost when we first met. It was like a fun game between us. His work on rackets put it all together, what we were up against. At our first meeting, I felt like Huxley meeting Darwin for the first time, and being told about Natural Selection. I had to kick myself.’ ‘You knew it, but had not managed to put it together?’ 259

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‘Exactly! I had been studying secret society conspiracies, rackets, for most of my adult life. My grandfather, like Frank's, also lived to a ripe old age, and was able to tell me all he knew.’ ‘How old was your grandfather, Sol?’ ‘He was born in 1850 and was in his late nineties when he died. Your comments about Disraeli and his father were apt, except it was my grandfather who informed me. However, I still had plenty of family baggage. It was Frank who broke the spell.’ ‘I understand that Sol. Frank says the rest of his first book is merely explaining examples of how it all works out in practice.’ ‘Go-carts, somebody called them.’ ‘Some go-carts Sol, when they explain every racket the Frankfurt Conspiracy has been running over the last two hundred years.’ ‘It goes back much further than that.’ I signalled I was all ears. ‘What you probably need to consider is how the Sabb government in Amsterdam managed to con the British government in establishing the so called Bank of England. I gasped, and Sol laughed, then concluded, ‘It was really in 1694, when the Sabbs really started into their most profitable racketeering.’ This latest piece of information hit me like a bomb, and I had to laugh with him, but wanted to know what he meant by Sabb, ‘What do you mean by Sabb government? 260

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‘We are talking purely generically Francis. They may have appeared to be Jews, and even hid in the Jewish community, but that was not what they were. What they appeared to be was immaterial. We must always remember that Sabbs are the masters of the craft of crime, and must never appear to be what they are, but always as some other entity, in which they cloak and dissemble their true identity. Sabb is our term to describe an indefinite entity.’ ‘I follow you Sol. Prof John Robinson said as much about Weishaupt’s insinuating brethren.’ ‘Their freemasonry includes the Prusso Teutonic orders, as well as all religious orders, and so they are never discovered to be what they are. Hiding within a highly religious community, with sound views on finance was perfect cover. Their conning of the British people with that measure was their greatest master crime.’ At that point, I had taken enough, and we agreed to take a good walk, before settling down for more talk in my study. Sol told me that I was probably going to have more insight of this kind, before the week was out. I do now admit that Sol was stimulating company, and we talked and argued on that first walk about almost everything, except what we had been talking about in the house. I was going to enjoy Sol’s company. He was so very civilised, and enjoyed walking at Pongbourne. 261

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It was on our first walk that he told me to write everything down about my world, in a novel preferably, claiming that all divines, poets, and creative writers are accepted by everybody as necessary liars. My readers should be able make up their own minds what they read and believed. By the time we were on our way back, Sol had persuaded me to start writing this story. End of Volume One.

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