The Fossilarchy

Chapter 1

May 30, Bernese Oberland, Switzerland,

The six guests arrived discreetly and separately, by private planes to nearby airfields and waiting limousines for the last leg of their journeys. They had been requested to come alone, without PAs, bag carriers, cell phones, recording or other trackable communication devices. The meeting was never to have taken place.

Wolfgang Dreiser awaited each guest on the steps of his summer house, a mansion by anyone else’s standards. Hidden security cameras down the road alerted him to approaching vehicles. He could see anyone coming up the glaciated hanging valley long before their arrival.

The house was surrounded by mountains, the views striking, although there was little snow on the peaks. Europe was engulfed in another heatwave – the new normal.

But they weren’t coming to admire the scenery or to discuss the weather.

He greeted each guest as an old and trusted friend, to the extent that such men could have friends. Each carried a case containing a very large sum of money, although this counted as loose change for some of the richest men on Earth.

He had spoken to each guest privately during and since the last Davos World Economic Forum. It was now time for final commitment, time for the deposits to be paid.

After a light lunch, he opened the meeting.

“Gentlemen, thank you for coming. I don’t need to remind you of the gravity of the situation or why we are here. Over thirty years of warnings have been ignored as the world has pursued the fairy tale of eternal economic growth. Instead of action, we have had fine words. Fine words and lip service from governments and corporate leaders, with all their excuses for doing little or nothing. Fine words from scientists, too timid to tell the truth or risk their careers. Fine words from self-important sustainability gurus, armies of parasitic consultants with all their fairy dust and incantations. Fine words from NGOs who think they’re Jesus, sent to save us, all preaching to each other while most of the world has ignored them. Fine words and inaction have led the world to the brink of catastrophe.

“Now, as we stare into the abyss, there is no time to step back. Now, as never before, humanity needs to recognise its predicament, its peril, and be guided by science, knowledge, wisdom, compassion and cooperation. Instead, we have anti-science, lies, stupidity, ignorance, greed, hatred and conflict. Now, as never before, we need great leaders to steer the world to safety. Instead, we have psychopaths, megalomaniacs, narcissists, imbeciles, marketing hacks and religious zealots – nonentities put and kept in power by their own kind and by populations too stupid or ignorant to know what’s going on. We are not on a road to human progress and enlightenment, but to a new dark age.

“The climate crisis is much, much worse than the COVID crisis, which lost vital time for action as the world was distracted. It stalled growth and emissions briefly, but now the world is ramping up again on the same trajectory of plundering the Earth – the cause of both crises. A desperate situation demands desperate measures. Without drastic action, there is no prospect of saving the world in the time we have left.

“Governments will not act decisively – therefore, we must. A million species face extinction. The young are fighting for their future; fighting for their lives.”

***

Two hours later, Dreiser was summing up what had been discussed. He had presented a business case, feasibility study and outline plan. Standard practice when you present a multi-billion-dollar business opportunity to investors.

“Are there any final questions before we conclude our meeting?”

He paused. He knew what they were thinking. The guests looked at each other, scarcely able to believe what they had agreed to. They all knew it would give capitalism a bad name if they were ever found out, not to mention result in very long jail sentences. They knew from past hands-on experience that it was fair enough – perfectly legal and acceptable – for the investment community to finance the destruction of Planet Earth, all its life support systems and non-human inhabitants. Even worse, to bring the world economy to its knees with dodgy derivatives. But damaging property assets would be frowned upon.

Dreiser understood their concerns. “As I have stressed to you all, you will be protected. That is why we are adhering to the utmost confidentiality and why you will all have no further involvement beyond financing the venture and agreeing to the overall plan. I am grateful for your contributions today as an initial token of your commitment. Execution will be tasked to military strategists and operatives. Even as we speak, preparations are under way.”

***

May 30, South Kensington, London

Alex Burns relaxed in his apartment off Prince’s Gardens. The streets around were quiet. It was a Saturday afternoon, and the nearby Imperial College was semi-dormant for the summer. It was still sweltering outside.

He was once again in the job market. Since being pensioned off from Her Majesty’s Special Air Service he’d tried a few ‘executive’ and ‘management consultant’ jobs, but pen-pushing and talking bullshit weren’t for him. He’d killed better people, scraped from his boot less odious materials than some of the types he’d come across in the London business world.

He could kill a pint. He’d head to the Queen’s Arms a bit later.

He had no ties now that his divorce had been finalised and his son James had flown the coop, now living in New York. He looked at the picture of Lottie on his desk. He loved and missed her, but after being away so much and doing what he had done – called ’serving his country’ – there was no recapturing what they’d once had. There were now just pictures, memories, and associations – like everyone’s past, good or bad.

He was enjoying being free, starting afresh, having a flat in town, visiting the nearby museums, going to concerts. He’d even started dating again – internet introductions were a new experience. He was keeping fit and could still pass the ‘tall, dark and handsome’ test, apart from a few grey hairs. He was enjoying meeting new women – enjoying the company, the conversation, being able to try ‘minimum two people’ set menus. But he was wary of dates who seemed to interview him as a prospective marriage partner, and so he gave them little to go on. He’d been trained to resist probing questions even when tortured.

There seemed to be a lot of Russian women in town. Tatyana was a gold-digger and had taken some time to shake off, but there was something about Galina. He’d see her again.

It was good to be participating in the normal world again, but the novelty was wearing off and he hankered for adventure once more. All the same, he was particular. He’d spent too much time doing things he didn’t especially want to do, being in places he hadn’t especially wanted to be in: Northern Ireland, Iraq, Africa, Afghanistan, Leatherhead. Just for a change, he felt like doing something good, something useful even – but no opportunities had arisen. Maybe he’d join a charity, something that had to do with land mines. He’d seen what they did to people. Maybe he’d work with disabled war veterans. He knew a few and knew about helping people with PTSD – too many of his mates had topped themselves. What had it all been for? What about animals? He’d adopted Gus the cat and Pongo the dog in Afghanistan – or rather, they’d adopted him – and brought them back to England, to do six months in quarantine. There was no lack of things he could do.

The call came in on his private number. Not many people knew it.

“Alex? Piers Hadley. How are you? I heard you were still looking. Might have something interesting for you. But can’t talk over the phone. What about a spot of lunch? Friday suit you?”

They had met once before and Burns was on his books. Hadley liked to call himself a ‘broker’. It was evidently easier to say this, when asked the ‘so, what do you do, then?’ question at parties, than saying ‘arms dealer and mercenary recruitment agent for subversive and surreptitious operations worldwide. No task too tough.’

Which was also somewhat long for a business card.

Burns was intrigued. He wasn’t one to turn down the offer of a free lunch.

“Glad to. Where and when?”

***

The late afternoon sun shone through the trees as the limousines lined up, their tyres crunching on the gravel.

“The destiny of the world depends on our success,” said Dreiser. “I propose that the project is code-named Operation Phoenix, symbolising new life, new hope emerging from the ashes of a world on fire.” The guests nodded in agreement as Dreiser poured seven glasses of schnapps. “Gentlemen, I give you a toast. To Phoenix!”

“Phoenix!” They all responded in unison, downing their glasses in one.

Dreiser embraced and bade farewell to each guest in turn before they were driven away. He watched them disappear down the valley.

He knew that if they were discovered and convicted, he would, as the ringleader, receive the harshest sentence. People would say he was crazy, a madman, a Bond villain out to destroy the world, not save it. His lawyers would no doubt get him to plead insanity and he would spend his last years cared for by nice young men in clean white coats.

Yes, he was mad – mad about the condition of the Earth, mad that people could let it get into this state and still carry on as before. That was the true insanity. Appeals to reason, to listen to the science had failed. You couldn’t reason with stupid. He recalled a quote of Albert Einstein, a distant relative on his mother’s side. ‘There are only two things that are infinite: the universe and human capacity for stupidity, and I’m not sure about the universe.’ Another great physicist, Max Planck, said that you could not change deeply held beliefs by reasoning. You had to wait for the holders to die in order for new truths to be accepted by a new generation. Old white males were the dominant climate deniers – the Robert Moorcocks of this world and their followers – but there was no time to sit around waiting for them to kick the bucket.

The older generation in rich countries had caused the climate crisis and done nothing to avert it. He did not care about them. He recalled reading the words in a German officer’s letter sent home during the insanity of the First World War. ‘This generation has no future and deserves none.’ His concern was for the young and the nightmare that his generation would leave them in.

Throughout history, young men had been sent off to fight and die for the beliefs of the old, those in power. Today, not only the present generation of young were being sacrificed, but all future generations.

He knew that many shared his concerns, especially those who were taking to the streets – this Friday’s protests around the world would be the biggest yet. The difference was that he and his colleagues had the Kohle, the money to do something about it.

The last of the limousines disappeared from sight. He would see his guests at the next Davos – or in court for war crimes.Start writing here…