Chamish - Thank You -
The Gog And Magog

From Barry Chamish

Over 500 letters ALL of support. THANK YOU. THANK YOU. THANK YOU. And my wife thanks you.
This morning we had a few events that have helped put things in perspective for my wife and I. We had another phone call threatening blackmail, followed by a call from the local social worker, Cathy, who has been behind the attacks on my family. She wanted to see my wife.
This Cathy actually asked my wife to submit a police complaint against me and to take herself and our children to a battered woman's shelter. My wife told her off in her soft way, came home furious and announced that she would talk to my attorney and would tell the truth in court. This evening she is meeting friends about how best to continue our marriage. It's still shaky but improving slightly.
I vowed not to reveal any more NEW documents about the Rabin murder. I contacted two journalists and offered to turn over all my documents to them, on condition that they take over the burden. Only if I'm under attack again will I tell ALL I've been holding back.
As for Rabin, I decided on a new approach, one that does not name names or release proofs. Does anyone know a publisher of fiction? - Barry
There is evil in the wilderness village of Kennebunkport, Maine. Some visitors think it feels quaint. Yitzhak Rabin knew better. As his helicopter approached the landing pad, he felt nothing but dread.
The fishing is good near Kennebunkport, Maine. That's mostly why the Texan's father chose to build his family retreat there. Another good reason was it wasn't too far from New York but just handily far enough away from prying eyes. No one would pay much attention to the long line of visitors who made the pilgrimage to the estate; the Nazis and their secret American bankers, the oil monopolists, the plotters, the wealthy cultists, the protected pedophiles, the shippers cum smugglers, the drug runners, the senators, the obedient bureaucrats, the Presidents of the United States of the World.
The Texan was a President on the way out. His replacement was even viler than he. And the Texan was no Texan. He was a Connecticut Yankee in a Dixie court, sent young to establish his credentials in a pre-arranged oil venture, soon to be corporation, then to be a base for the most covert and illegal of extra-governmental operations.
Rabin swallowed half a bottle of J and B and handed it to his bodyguard. "Give it to the pilot after we land back in New York," he told him. Rabin never drank from the same bottle twice. It was a wise precaution. He also never faced a nervous situation sober. Not as wise.
The chopper landed and Rabin, as was his habit, left the cabin only after the blades came to a full stop. An unnecessary precaution but he abhorred risk. It was that very fear of fear that led him to his fearful life and he could not face the consequences unless properly anaesthetized.
Back home he was the vindictive king of his little castle. But in Kennebunkport, Maine, he had all the power of, to use the phrase of a political rival, "a drugged cockroach in a bottle."
The Texan greeted him at the entrance warmly, just in case anybody was somehow making unwanted observations. The phoney smile dissolved the moment the door to his den was shut tight behind them. This was not going to be the kind of meeting where aides sit in and reporters awaited superficial reactions.
The Texan pointed and Rabin sat himself in a black, slightly overstuffed leather chair. The Texan remained standing. Rabin pulled a few pages of Hebrew notes from the breast pocket of his dark blue jacket. It was an abbreviated laundry list of requests from his generals and ministers back home. He stared at a mounted fish, not knowing if it once swam in fresh or salt water and said, "That's a big one."
"You're not here for the fishing, Yitzhak, " the Texan replied curtly. "And I'd rather be on the water than with you. So let's not beat around the bush."
Rabin smiled at the pun. "I brought you some requests. You understand I have to go home with something."
"Oh, you will," the Texan said, finally seating himself in his even more stuffed chair, elevated a bit, using the most obvious trick of the shrinks. Looking down at Rabin's crimson face, he knew there was no doubt who was in charge. He would be a lot easier to deal with than Shamir was.
He went straight to the point. "We put you back in power and you know our conditions. You will have to go back and prepare the Israelis for some very painful territorial withdrawals. Everywhere."
"I don't think I can manage the PLO yet. Let me start with the Syrians." The Texan's jaw tightened. "It doesn't really matter a whole lot what you think, now does it Yitzhak? You will obey your commands and stop this thinking business right now."
Rabin knew it was hopeless to protest, but he had to maintain a modicum of reality for this situation would not play well in the Knesset. That called for a drink. "I'm thirsty, " he said.
"Oh no you don't," answered the Texan. "You think you can fall into a drunken stupor like you did with Carter? You didn't last too long after that trick, now did you?"
They may have got him out with the bank account leak, Rabin recalled, but they got Begin in instead. They won't take that kind of risk again. It took fifteen years for them to extricate themselves from honorable men and this time he was in to stay. This understanding gave him a renewed sense of confidence.
"With all your election rigging, " he proclaimed, "you still couldn't get me a Jewish majority in the Knesset. I had to squeeze Dori to get the seats."
"And a fat chance you had if we hadn't opened the FBI file on him. You just tell him you'll extradite him to New York for murder and you've got all the seats you'll ever need."
The Texan won that round. Rabin needed some more confidence. "I think better after a drink." The Texan obliged. "You don't take ice, right?" "Just straight and full," Rabin answered. After a half ounce, loud sip, he said, "It won't sell unless I get a good start."
"What do you want?" asked the exasperated ex-President-to-be.
"Free Pollard for starters."
"So he can blab about everything? What's next?"
"He won't talk. If you give this one to me it'll be a lot easier to sell the rest."
"I'm warning you, get real and in a hurry. We've got your loan guarantees all ready. You'll go back a ten billion dollar hero. That's what you get and maybe a few planes to boot. Hand your arms requests to the Pentagon and don't overdo it."
Rabin lifted his notes. The Texan grabbed his arm and shoved it down. "You put those goddamn papers back in your goddamn pocket and listen to me."
Rabin obeyed without protest and finished his drink. He was no longer a brave drunk. The Texan had the floor and he had better not try to share it with him.
"This is the plan and you'll remember it if you know what's good for you. Baris is to know nothing. He'll squeal to the Europeans in ten seconds. You tell him zilch. Let him run off to France as your loyal Foreign Minister and come up with all the hopeless diplomacy he wants. Meanwhile his loyal deputy Uri Berlin will keep him out of the loop and you in."
God, thought Rabin, he didn't want to work with Berlin. He despised his mousey face and vicious personality. Everytime he looked into his eyes, he imagined he was facing Himmler. Worse, it looked like they had appointed him to run his government.
"Berlin knows a couple of idiot academics and he's setting them up right now. They'll meet Ashrawi in Ramallah next month and she'll arrange a meeting with Abu Allah in London in November. He'll tell them what they want to hear and then run into Berlin right after."
"What next?" thought Rabin. He knew far-left professors were a dime a dozen and they'd sell Moses for a little ideological glory. "Which academics?" Rabin asked. The Texan rummaged through his pockets and pulled out his notes. "He's as sloppy as me," he thought. The Texan looked down at his notes and answered, "Plotkin and Heskowitz are their names."
Rabin had never heard of the first one but Heskowitz was sent by the Austrian Chancellor Bruno Kreisky to infiltrate Israeli academia on behalf of the Socialist International. No surprise there. So the first meeting was to be in London. That meant The Royal Institute was running things. Again, no surprise. This was, after all a Foreign Relations Council operation and the Institute was the FRC's big daddy.
The departing President relaxed just a bit and carried on. Rabin wasn't giving him any trouble. "Berlin arranged secret talks in Oslo. The Council will make sure they go our way. You just make sure these professors aren't exposed and if they are, you just deny you know them. They were rogues. But it better not come to that."
Rabin was well aware that the Texan wouldn't be in charge of him much longer. However, he knew the incumbent Chief was also a member of the Council. They all were. Him, Dole, Gore. There was no hope of just waiting the Texan out. Still, there could be a change of style.
"Who's going to replace Packer?" Rabin asked.
"What in blazing Hell do you care?" the Texan yelled. "You trying to be a wiseguy or something? I'm them and they're me." He hesitated and lowered his voice. "And you're you and you know exactly what that means."
Rabin did. They had enough on him to merely discredit him totally if they wanted or have him hanged legally or not for treason. He was trapped. Berlin really believed in the Council, while he just played along at first to get ahead. Now there was no turning back and surviving.
"What's the whole picture?" asked Rabin. "Is it the big one?"
"The whole enchalada, Yitzhak. Gog and Magog. We're taking over, at long last, and you will help bring about the New World Order. Frankly, you don't deserve it, I do, but you will become the closest thing to a living God we can arrange."
"Mr. President, I risk civil war if I give away everything."
"You should have thought of that before we put you back in the driver's seat. You just get off the Golan and give Arafat his state. We'll sell it as peace and you become an instant saint. And we'll turn Arafat into Mother Theresa. If anyone objects...well, you'll be briefed in New York."
The meeting was over. Rabin told reporters the discussions were "frank and warm." He promised them "a new chapter in Israeli-American relations." The chapter would come right from the Book Of Daniel.
The new Prime Minister of Israel stepped into the chopper and his bodyguard, Yonah Rivlin handed him an unopened bottle. This time Rabin finished it off. He now would return to his suite in New York, sleep off the booze and then entertain the meanest Jews on earth.
He dreaded Otto Kluger more than the Texan and Murray Braunstein slightly less. He hated when they played the good cop, bad cop routine on him. Kluger was head of the National Security Agency when Rabin was ambassador to Washington back in '68. Then he was promoted to Secretary Of State. He really didn't have to work hard to corrupt Rabin, like all ambassadors, he was pre-chosen for his weaknesses. Rabin had suffered a complete nervous breakdown as Chief Of Staff during the Six Day War, but the Council made sure the media never mentioned his cowardice. Instead, it manipulated his image as a lionhearted warrior.
Kluger quit his job as chief assistant to the Council Chairman, possibly the wealthiest man in America, Daniel Rockaway to take on the NSA job. Rockaway gave the President no choice and that meant, there was no choice. Kluger was ordered to arrange a war that would wipe out Israel and with Rabin's help, he almost succeeded in October of '73. However, the President had been set up for impeachment and rebelled. He rearmed the Jewish State just in time.
The deal arranged with Golda Meir and her Defense Minister Moshe Dayan was to let the Arabs attack first and with no interference. They agreed because of the promise that the Syrians and Egyptians would not enter pre-'67 Israeli territory if there was no preemptive strike. All the Arabs wanted was their fighting pride back.
And at first they kept to their side of the bargain. Syrian tanks could have rolled into Tiberius on the second day of the fighting and the Egyptians could have broken out towards the Negev after the third day. But they ordered their armies to stand in place, claiming they had outrun their supply lines.
However, by the fourth day of the war, Israel's fighting men had begun retaking the Golan Heights and the two Arab armies tried to make a run for what they called "the Zionist entity." A counterattack by the Israelis in the Sinai was smashed and Israel was running low on planes, tanks, ammo and soldiers. Fifteen hundred of her finest young men had already fallen and twice as many were wounded. Kluger would have gotten his way if the President hadn't ordered a massive airlift to the Jewish State.
But there was a price that Kluger extracted. Before the arms would arrive, Meir was ordered to resign after the war and appoint Rabin her successor. She was in no position to refuse. Though Rabin had never sat in the Knesset and had no power in the Labor Party, he became Prime Minister within four months.
Then Kluger arrived in the Middle East to "make peace." He wanted Israel off the Golan Heights and out of the Sinai but back then, it was too early to get his way. Rabin just didn't have the political power to pull it off.
So after dozens of shuttles between Damascus and Jerusalem, Syrian President Assad agreed to a neat counter-proposal. Assad wanted to annex Lebanon and coveted the country as part of his dream of a greater Syria. Israel could not countenance that drastic a shift since it opened a new northern front against her. But Rabin agreed to turn a blind eye to a Syrian attack on Lebanon.
A pretext was needed to justify such an attack and what better reason than to come in as "peacemakers" to quell a nasty civil war? The CIA knew how to start such wars and this operation was a piece of cake. A bus full of Christian school children was shot up, killing thirty two youngsters, the PLO took "credit" against their will since they did not carry out the massacre and the war was on.
King Hussein of Jordan was delighted with Kluger's plan. He had fought his own civil war with the PLO just three years before and he came close to losing. It was he who forced their minions to run for their lives to the salvation of hapless Lebanon where they wasted no time trying to take over the country by force of the Russian arms Kluger had arranged for Arafat part of the "detente " hoax.
The same players were still in power twenty years later and this time around Kluger would not blow his opportunity. Rabin would give Assad, Hussein and Arafat everything they wanted. And this time, no desperate President would bail Israel out.
Rabin was awoken from his drunken stupor by Yonah Rivlin. Rabin, as was his wont, abused Rivlin. This was standard procedure and Rivlin knew he had better get used to it for the next four years.
"Get away from here, you son of a whore," Rabin cursed in Hebrew.
"Mr. Prime Minister, it is my duty to inform you that Mrs. Kluger and Braunstein will be arriving for your meeting in fifteen minutes."
"Then you meet them and tell them to go screw themselves for me."
"I'm afraid that's not possible, sir. I would be remiss in my duty if you didn't attend this meeting."
"Why me and not you?"
"Because you are the prime minister and I'm not, sir. I don't think it would be appropriate if I decided the affairs of state. Frankly, I don't think they'd be too happy if you appointed me to that position without cabinet approval."
Rivlin, as usual wore Rabin out of his trance until he acquiesced and rose. Ten minutes was all he needed to straighten his tie, sweeten up his sallow tongue and look presentable enough. He never learned to tie his own tie, so just slept with it loosened around his neck on his foreign trips. Long ago, he discovered this was a real time saver. On hot days, he just slipped the tie over his head and put it back on with a fresh shirt.
Kluger and Braunstein took the elevator to Rabin's floor and left their bodyguards at various vulnerable posts. They rang Rabin's door and Rivlin opened it. Kluger saw Rabin seated, putting on his shoe, pointed at Rivlin and ordered Rabin in a deep Teutonic growl to, "Get rid of him." Rabin motioned Rivlin out and told him, "Go downstairs to the lobby and I'll have you called up when we're through."
Rivlin, still unacquainted with the subtleties of a foreign trip replied, "That would be a dereliction of duty to the state, sir."
Rabin raised his voice and assumed his military tone. "I am the state and the state wants to be alone with these gentlemen." Rivlin got the message. When they heard the elevator door close, the three men politely and tersely shook hands.
"How are you, Otto?" asked Rabin.
"Busy," was all he would volunteer. Braunstein played the good cop, as usual.
"We're very excited by your victory and not just us, almost all the Jews of America."
Kluger intoned, "And he should know, he's got them in his pocket." Kluger signaled Braunstein to continue. "We understand the President gave you a thorough briefing but we've been told you expressed some doubts. That's not a very good idea, Yitzhak."
Rabin was not fooled by Braunstein's friendly but threatening tone. "The time isn't right for Gog and Magog," he insisted. "The Jews aren't ready."
Braunstein grabbed his shoulder firmly in the palm of his hand. "Yitzhak, Yitzhak, Yitzhak. The Council has control of almost all the Jewish media. We run the charities, the rabbis. Now who here is going to object?"
"AIPAC for one. Begin and Shamir appointed the leaders. They won't stand for it."
"Give me six months," said Braunstein smiling, "and they're history. Believe me, they'll be drummed out. Thomas Dine is already as good as gone and his pals will follow. You are about to be hailed by the Jews of the world as a savior. Just enjoy it."
"Maybe here in America," retorted Rabin."We know how stupid you made them. If after the Holocaust they still supported Roosevelt, you can get them to believe anything. They're not as dumb in Israel."
Kluger interrupted. "We'll make them as dumb. That's not so hard. They never figured out your Holocaust secrets either. One way or another, they'll cooperate."
"With their own suicide?" asked Rabin.
"It won't be the first time, now will it?" replied Kluger.
"Don't look at it as suicide," intoned Braunstein happily. "That's just so negative. Look at it the right way, as a revival of something much, much better than Judaism. The whole world will believe in the same things and then there will be no more wars. As our founders told Wilson, this will be the war to end all wars."
"Enough," growled Kluger in his best Nordic accent. "Shall we get down to business already? Your primary role will be to neutralize opposition and you shall do so without conscience. We hate when you display weakness. It has made us very displeased in the past."
"Heck," added Braunstein, "Where is the old warhorse who gunned down the fourteen Jews on the Altalena? We need him back right away."
"And if he isn't back," observed Kluger, "he isn't worth much to us."
This implied threat Rabin did not like. His dander was finally up, just a bit. "You don't have to resort to that kind of talk," he protested."I'm all you have. Who could replace me? Baris? He'll sell you out to the Vatican the day he takes over."
"Let him try," answered an angered Kluger. "And I mean that for now. Just let him go running off to Juan Carlos, or to the Frogs or dagos. But if he ever gets your job, I promise you it won't be for long if he gets in our way. But this is all conjecture because you won't let us down, now will you Yitzhak? "
"He's not kidding," added Braunstein. "You'll have your work cut out for you and I, for one, trust you. Didn't I pay for your reelection out of my own pocket? You know why I did that, because I know you're a winner."
This time, the flattery proved useful. Rabin knew he was only a winner because the truth about him was kept in control. But he was perceived as a winner and he owed Ben Gurion and his Council pals big for that. He had too much to lose by betraying their plans. He would convince himself that they were not odious, the opposite, they were splendid. He would be the vehicle to usher in their new order and the whole world would rejoice that he did. He had to believe that. There was no other viable option.
"What do you want me to do first?" he asked Kluger.
Back in 1990, Rabin wasn't head of the loyal Knesset opposition. Shimi Baris was and he was determined to become the next prime minister. He had always despised Rabin because the Anglo Saxons had made him popular and the Europeans failed him on that score. But he was far more skilled in gaining party support just because he was that much more unscrupulous than Rabin.
He had utilized his deputy Uri Berlin brilliantly to arrange a victory in the elections. That victory Rabin stole from him because Baris had lost four previous election bids and his party considered Rabin a more electable entity.
The primary reason for Baris's election losses was the Moroccans. With 600,000 people, they were the largest ethnic group in the country and 90% voted against Labor. But by the middle of the 1980s, the Moroccans chose a new religious party, Khas, to represent their interests, and they now had six seats in the Knesset. If Baris couldn't win the Moroccan vote, he could get it anyway just by having Khas in his hip pocket.
So, he decided to totally corrupt the party and then blackmail it into his camp. The leader of Khas had a young secretary named Oriel Dori and while Peres shared the prime minister's post with Shamir in the mid-80s he advanced Dori, eventually making him Interior Minister at age twenty-six. With much less encouragement than should have been necessary, Dori began looting the Interior Ministry budget and shifting much of the stolen $50 million to the Khas Party.
In 1988, Baris was named Finance Minister under a Shamir-led unity government and immediately began tracking every agora of Dori's thefts. In 1990, he leaked word of the embezzlement to the Justice Ministry and sent Berlin on a mission to him.
Secretary Of State Jim Packer and Baris had devised a way to bring down Shamir. Packer would fly to Cairo and present a new peace initiative which included Israel negotiating over the sovereignty of Jerusalem. They both knew Shamir would have to reject the "peace" initiative and this would give Baris the pretext to declare a non-confidence motion in the Knesset.
Without Khas's six votes, the motion would fail and Shamir would survive. Berlin simply informed Dori that the Finance Ministry would present all the evidence of his crimes to the courts if he supported the Shamir government. So Dori, took a right wing, religious party and turned into into a party of "peace," to the astonishment of its Moroccan constituency. Shamir fell alright but the constituency felt so betrayed that it rebelled en masse and forced Khas back into the Shamir camp, or put another way, out of the Baris camp.
Though the plot failed, Baris ensured Khas loyalty through thick and thin as Dori tried desperately to return the embezzled money to the Treasury. Within a year, Dori was taking the Delorean route, financing huge cocaine deals in Belgium. At the same time, he tried to implicate his mother-in-law in his crimes, asking her to testify that she personally bought him a luxury home out of her savings, which, of course, never existed. Shortly after she refused, she was "accidentally" killed in New York, run over in her own car which was driven by one of Dori's closest business partners.
Two weeks after Rabin was elected, the FBI opened a file on Dori, implicating him in the suspicious death of his mother-in-law. Once he joined the Rabin government three days later, the file was dropped...For then. Dori would support the Gog and Magog Plan or face the very ugly consequences. Thanks to Baris, Rabin inherited a Jewish majority in parliament with Khas's, now, eight seats.
But he also inherited the PLO from Baris. In June, 1990, Baris and Packer cooked up another plot to unseat Shamir in the next elections. Baris sent Berlin to Cairo to meet Packer and to offer Arafat a deal. If he used his powers of persuasion to recruit the majority of Israeli Arabs to Labor and its close ally the Meretz Party, he would be rewarded with a state in Gaza and the West Bank after the elections. Like Dori before him, Arafat accepted Berlin's convincing bribe.
Packer, like his Texan boss, was a high ranking member of the FRC and he had no trouble inducting Berlin into the fold. He became such an avid advocate of the new order, that the FRC appointed him to be Rabin's guardian. Kluger made it clear to Rabin that immediately on his return to Israel, he would be meeting Berlin. There was no objection to the locale being Rabin's office in the Kirya complex opposite the Knesset in Jerusalem.
Berlin, opened the door and Rabin rose to shake his hand. He recoiled momentarily when he saw the utter wickedness, as he always did, in Berlin's eyes. Berlin sat opposite him across his oversized desk and said, "I understand we'll be seeing a lot of each other."
"Not openly," answered Rabin. "Baris will smell a rat."
"Baris does not want to see you any more than he has to. He'll be delighted to have me act as his envoy."
"Did you figure that out or did they help you?"
Berlin forced a crooked grimacing smile and answered, "I think they've thought of everything. Do you know anything about baseball?"
Rabin nodded no. Soccer and tennis were his sports.
"Well, there's an American expression that fits. They've got all the bases covered."
Rabin was confused but tried not to let on. "So where do you fit," he asked, "And where do I?"
"For now, you've got the easy job," Berlin replied. "You carry on keeping all your election promises. You tell the public you won't negotiate with the PLO or give up the Golan. That's all you have to do as Prime Minister. But don't hand over the Defense Minister portfolio to anyone. Depending on how the Norway talks go, we may need you there."
Rabin was feeling utter revulsion. He stared into Berlin's face and saw an image of a mouse with wire-framed glasses. Then a rat. Then...He rubbed his eyes and shook his head. He didn't want to see anymore.
"And how do you think the people are going to react when one day their borders shrink to those of 1948?" asked Rabin sensibly. Berlin scrunched up his face and the veins in his forehead protruded. "Borders," he said slowly to emphasize his new ideology, "cause wars. If we get rid of all of them, there will be no reason for conflict. Israel will become a paradise if it loses its borders."
"A paradise for who?" asked Rabin. "Who will survive?"
Berlin did not hesitate for one nanosecond. "We will survive. And rule."
End first three chapters


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