Chapter 1
“ABC news assures me there are no interviews whatsoever scheduled for 11:35, nor any close to it tonight; they will be doing the headlines then. We have people monitoring all possible ways to interrupt their signal,” Scott tried to convince Sheelia just minutes before 11:30. They were in her apartment, sitting anxiously in front of the TV.
“He’s already thought of that, or he wouldn’t have told us,” she muttered.
“So you admit it’s a man now?” he asked facetiously.
Sheelia gave him one of her foul looks.
“Here it comes,” he said, deflecting her evil glare.
“In our top story tonight,” the anchor started after his introduction, “Four F-18 fighter jets and a B-2 Stealth Bomber have disappeared during routine training flights today. These incidents are piling up now. Military spokesmen are being tight-lipped about the incidents and many sources have indicated that billions of dollars worth of military equipment has gone missing recently – vanished, without a trace. Some suggest over a trillion dollars. One source in the White House confirmed that more than 40 high-tech aircraft and a hundred land-based vehicles have been stolen, along with millions of rounds of munitions, assault weapons, antiaircraft missiles and tactical missiles. The list is staggering and, I quote, ‘Enough to take over a small country.’”
The scene behind the anchor had been showing various military videos of planes, tanks, missiles and soldiers in action; it switched to the now familiar M.O.D. logo.
“The FBI raided the home of another M.O.D. victim today – this time a 37-year-old single woman. Her name, as usual, has not been released. This is the sixth M.O.D. attack and the largest yet, at $1.5 million. The FBI is still not commenting on whether they have any leads or suspects on the cyber attacks, which have now claimed $2.7 million stolen in the victim’s names.” The scene then changed to a dollar sign with a graph simulating the stock market activity.
“Gee, I wish they’d rub it in,” Sheelia commented angrily.
The announcer continued, “In financial news, stocks continue to fall as the economy fails to recover with stimulus packages and other governmental intervention…”
The sound suddenly cut out briefly and a computer-generated character appeared beside the anchor on the screen. The character closely resembled Orson Welles.
The anchor stopped and stared at his monitor. “I’m sorry; we must be having technical difficulties.”
“No, Bob, we are not having technical difficulties,” the character said, putting on a hat with the “M.O.D.” logo on it and panning out to show him wearing an M.O.D. T-shirt. “Everything is working just fine, for once, thank you.”
“I’m sorry, but who am I talking to?” the anchor asked skittishly, shifting uncomfortably in his seat, eyes darting to the producer and technical staff to signal his confusion at the unexpected interruption.
“It was nice of you to start out your program with three stories related to my appearance tonight, Bob. I am the M.O.D.”
“Um, what do you mean?” The anchor was obviously struggling to maintain his composure and sustain the conversation without his teleprompter.
“Hey, Bob, let me make this easy for you, you seem to need some help,” M.O.D. said. With those words, the teleprompter came to life and started spitting out dialogue for the newsman.
“OK, Mr. M.O.D., what is the significance of the three opening stories in relation to you?” Bob asked.
“Thank you for asking, Bob. It’s simple. Obviously, the second story was about me directly…”
Several technicians ran about the set frantically; Sheelia was on the phone in an instant back in her apartment, asking questions about where the transmission was coming from, how it was being done, how it could be stopped.
“I obviously hacked bank accounts in the name of others. The first story, however, is a bit misleading. I did not steal 247 fighter planes, three nuclear submarines, 13 naval warships, 652 tanks and over 15,000 missile systems and missiles plus millions of other pieces of hardware.” He paused for effect. “I bought them.”
“Where did you get those figures, Mr. M.O.D.?” Bob asked on cue.
“My accountants are either more efficient than the government’s, or more honest. You see, Bob, the government doesn’t want you to know that I now control the fourth most powerful arsenal on the planet, or that I will soon own the largest. They simply don’t know how to tell the truth,” the Welles character stated casually.
“What about the stock market? How do you explain your involvement in that?” Bob read in his professional announcer’s voice as he quickly regained his poise.
The character shrugged, “I’ve been liquidating,” he answered flatly.
Bob knew the implications of that statement and answered without aid of the teleprompter, “A liquidation capable of effecting a 50% drop in the market in six months would have to be an astronomical amount,” Bob blurted.
“Very astute, Bob,” Orson praised him theatrically.
“Oh my god!” Sheelia said in shock.
“We need to contact NSA, CIA, anybody with initials… and the President!” Scott instantly declared, overwhelmed at the revelation.
Bob’s usefulness was over, only one sentence remained for him to read, which he did, heavily, “Mr. M.O.D., what do you hope to achieve with all this money?”
The newsman was then unceremoniously shoved out of the picture and “Mr. M.O.D.” took the full screen. “The United States of America was once a great nation,” he started, “but this United States is not the one our founding fathers set out to build over 200 years ago. This United States stands for everything its citizens have fought against throughout its history: oppression, unwarranted violence against innocent and weaker countries or its own citizens, trampling of human rights, crooked legal systems and socialism. Yes, socialism. Erect the iron curtain again; we’re having a good ol’ cold war right here in this country. But we’re losing this one.”
“Our education system is no better than Hitler’s and Stalin’s propaganda machines. Our children are growing up being told that it’s OK for the government to take all your money and tell you how to spend what’s left, because it’s good for the country. Every time a politician in this country says ‘for the children,’ I can guarantee it’s a tax increase and another step closer to a socialist state. Many people now pay well over half of their wages in taxes and the government spends it all and tells them they need more of it, for the children. Then this money goes to a war machine, a war machine that attacks its own citizens and those of other countries to force them into submission. They spend billions, even trillions of dollars on foreign aid while our own citizens cannot dig out of poverty. They are shackled to their jobs, handcuffed, kept down in order to give them no choice but to keep serving the great empire.”
“If I were to walk up to you and take all of your money, say $100, if you’re lucky enough to have that much now, then give you back $50, would you thank me for giving you $50? NO! You’d call me a thief! Would you thank me for then telling you what you had to buy with the $50 I gave you, since, of course, I gave it to you? NO!”
President James Cahill, a mid-40’s Democrat, an athletic man who was just starting to gray around the temples, sat at his desk in the war room of the White House. The confidence, youthful charisma, and million-dollar smile that put him in this office were all conspicuously absent this day. He ran his hands through his hair, tension and worry consuming him. His chief advisor, Henry Tarkenton, sat on his left; his military advisor, General George F. Clark, sat on his right. They all stared at the mock interview-turned-monologue in shock. “How is this happening?” the President asked.
“I don’t know, Jim,” the general answered, baffled. The doors burst open and a tall, slender man dressed way too impressively, stormed in – Cary Brown, Director of Homeland Security. Behind him was the Director of the FBI, Warren Clemens, followed by Wellington Grant, Director of the CIA.
“What have you got for us?” the President asked the three men.
“This is obviously a terrorist threat…” Cary started, collapsing into a seat.
“We certainly agree with that, Cary; I want to know what you have,” the President cut him off.
He shook his head shamefully.
Jim wasted no time, looking pointedly at the next man to sit down, Warren Clemens, who sputtered, “We are unable to locate the origin of the signal – the best we can determine is that it is coming from within the building, but technicians are doing everything they can, short of cutting power to the place. How that signal is getting on the air, nobody knows.”
“Tell them to cut every line going into the building, smash their transmitters, whatever it takes! If this nutcase is allowed to keep speaking, he’ll have every wacko in Montana joining his cause!” Jim roared, pounding his fist on the table. Warren barked an order into his shirt microphone.
As the character continued, the men again turned their attention to the TV, hopefully anticipating his immediate removal. “But this is how our nation treats us every day, and we take it. And smile about it proudly. We are used by this government, used as tools, as drones, to further them, not us, not the citizens of the United States, but the select few in charge. Our oppression is now rivaling that of China and old Russia, we… Ah, I see they have pulled the plug at ABC studios, nice try fellas, and perfect proof of their determination to shut up people like me…”
“Damn it! Stop this asshole!” the President growled.
“We have a list of terrorists with experience in computer espionage—”
“George, are those numbers of stolen equipment accurate?” Jim suddenly interrupted the Homeland Security director to ask the general.
The general bowed his head, “Dangerously so,” he answered gravely.
Jim then looked to the others, “Who has the ability to use all of this equipment against us?”
None of them had an answer, but the general looked at him hesitantly.
“What, George?” Jim asked impatiently.
“Well, sir, we didn’t see this as a very big problem until now…”
“Oh, for god’s sake, spit it out, George!”
General Clark took a deep breath, “We’ve had record numbers of AWOL’s in the last six months – none of them have been located – and a steadily rising number in recent years. I suspect…”
Jim instantly knew what he suspected. “How many, George?”
“A lot, sir.”
“How many, damn it!”
George swallowed deeply, “Thirty-seven thousand.”
All the air had been sucked out of the room by the revelation. The President finally spoke, “How could this go unnoticed? Thirty-seven thousand! That’s a small army!” he raged.
“Well, sir, there are always spikes in desertion during tough economic and political times…”
“But 37,000!?”
“Well, sir, with all due respect, this is the roughest economic time since the 30’s. Politically, this is like Vietnam all over again.”
Jim turned to his Intel guys, “I want you to find all 37,000, hell, just one of those deserters! Find out why they left, where they went, what they’re planning. I want to know when every relative or contact of theirs takes a shit! They can’t hide all of that equipment anywhere for very long, find it! Don’t those tanks and planes have locators in them?”
The general nodded, “Yes sir, they do, and not many people know about them, but these people must because they are not transmitting.”
Jim pounded his fist again. He looked to Henry, “Should we just go ahead and declare war?” he asked, frazzled.
“On who, sir?” Henry asked plainly.
“Why are you three still here?” Jim suddenly blared at the Intel leaders. “Get me some answers, now!”
Cary, Warren, and Wellington hurriedly gathered their things to leave.
“Warren, stay a moment. Haven’t you been tracking this guy for a while?” he asked the FBI Director, who stopped his packing.
“Yes, sir, or trying to, for eight months. Two of my best agents have been on his trail, but he’s very elusive and seems to be toying with them now. This M.O.D. has some unimaginable resources, sir.”
Jim stood, “Is this a request for more funds? Or an excuse? Find the asshole responsible for this! If you need money, we’ll print all you want. Just get him!”
“Yes sir. I’ll put the best agents in every division on it and provide them with any tools they desire,” he vowed.
“Thank you. I want hourly updates.”
Warren nodded quickly and scurried out the door.
“Henry, I want to know what you think. How do we fight this threat?”
“I think you should have a press conference immediately to calm all fears and assure the people that we are still in charge and... Damn, sir, I don’t know, I’d have the FBI offer a billion dollar reward for this guy.”
Jim slouched back down in his seat, in deep thought for a moment. “Henry, you’ve never steered me wrong, that’s how we got here. We’ve taken down some pretty ruthless and resourceful characters in the political arena, but do you think it’s that serious?”
Henry cleared his throat, “I think the general will agree…” as he glanced at George, who nodded, “this may be the biggest threat we’ve ever faced. Somehow, someone has amassed a huge arsenal, and right under our noses. Serious? Hell yes it’s serious!”
“Fine, get the press team rolling, get speeches written to dispute this terrorist…”
“He hasn’t made any threats, sir,” The general reminded him.
“Dammit! No, you’re right, let’s wait before calling him a terrorist. But he’s definitely a criminal, and I want the entire country looking for him!”
At that moment, on the TV monitors still playing in the background, as if eavesdropping on the President’s meeting, M.O.D. abruptly changed course, “We are not terrorists. We are the last true defenders of the Constitution. We want our country back and we’re willing to fight for it. It’s time for a revolution and we’re going to deliver it. Thomas Jefferson wrote of the right to bear arms as being required to protect us from an oppressive government. We have an oppressive government, and we’re protecting ourselves. No government that is not oppressive would attempt to disarm the people as this one has, as an ultimate, last-ditch effort to control us. It is too late to bargain, too late for diplomacy. This government has declared war on its citizens by holding them hostage against their will. We have no choice but to revolt. Revolution has always cleansed government, it is the only tool made to do just that. It’s nearly spring, and I for one believe it’s time for a spring cleaning.”
“You will be seeing more of us in the near future as we take back this country and restore it to its old glory. Once again, Americans will be proud, other countries will envy instead of detest us. If you wish to find out more, check our progress, join us, or simply show your support, you can check our website at WWW.REVOLUTION.MOD. Thank you and may God bless America once again,” M.O.D. concluded, signing off, leaving just his logo and an eerie silence in his place.
“Son of a bitch! He’s a terrorist now! I want every word of this broadcast analyzed and every speech writer disputing it! Get a copy to them immediately!” The President started to storm out of the room and stopped, “Call a meeting first thing in the morning; I want answers from everyone by then!”
Every TV, radio and Internet site was reporting on the transmission. The Press Secretary promised a response by 12:30. Friends called neighbors, family, and coworkers. They had already estimated that Mr. M.O.D. had a staggering 40 million TV viewers by the end of his broadcast in the United States, but now over 200 million had tuned in to the re-broadcasts and commentaries, with over a billion around the world catching on. President Cahill knew this was going to be the biggest speech in the history of the world, and he was sweating bullets.
At 12:30 the speech writers were still honing their drafts, and the President decided to delay the speech until it was perfect. They researched desperately, digging for anything they could use to rebut the words of this enigmatic M.O.D., looking back for inspiration, but eventually opting to keep it simple.
At 1:15, with over a billion people anticipating the speech, President Cahill took his place behind the Press Secretary, who addressed the crowd, “Good morning, ladies and gentlemen.”
The restless crowd immediately shouted endless questions at him.
“Please, there will be time for questions afterward, I promise. We have quite a unique situation here and the President has worked tirelessly the last two hours to ensure that a proper response to this threat occurs.”
The murmurs and shouts of questions swelled again.
“Please remain quiet until we open the floor for questions. Now, I give you the President of the United States of America,” he announced grandly, stepping aside.
Total silence suddenly engulfed the room as the President approached the podium. He found it hard to breathe. Jim Cahill had been in politics for over 20 years, making hundreds, if not thousands, of speeches during his career, but he hadn’t been truly nervous since his first campaign for Governor of the state of Alabama. Now he was scared. He felt the 200 million American viewers closing in on him as he prepared to speak. He had just been sworn into office two months ago, and he certainly never planned for this.
“My fel…,” he paused, his voice was about to crack. Slowly, he reached under the podium and pulled out a glass of water, taking a sip and returning it. He steeled himself, let out his patented chuckle and said, “Sorry,” then continued. “My fellow Americans, today a new threat to this country has unveiled itself, a threat quite different from any we have ever faced, but a threat nonetheless. This is the first time we have faced a legitimate terrorist threat from within our own borders, the first time our nation has been compromised to any noticeable degree. This terrorist group, going by the name ‘M.O.D.’ has penetrated our very defenses and infiltrated the military itself and, we believe, plans to use it against us now.”
“Complacency weakened us in past administrations, allowing apathy to set in within our troops – dishonor is now acceptable to them. It is no longer considered in bad taste to willfully defy superiors and even conspire against them. Our general morality is at all-time lows, as well as our morale. Some of this is due to eight years of unchecked, irresponsible spending and questionable foreign policy, some due to relaxing of standards across all aspects of our great country. All of this has led us to where we are now, facing worse military and economic times than any generation before us. Times like this always lend weight to the fringe groups out there, the militias, the separatists, etc.”
“I was cautioned about not giving this terrorist group too much weight, to prevent creating a panic amongst the people, but I believe it is essential that we all know exactly what we’re up against. We believe that all of us, as brave Americans, can stand up to this bully and run him out of town. Since the 9/11 attacks, we have grown wiser about thwarting these cowardly aggressions. We all surely remember the plane that fought back. Because of many brave people looking out for their friends and neighbors, we have uncovered several other serious foreign-backed operations since then, and have shut them down before a single American could be harmed by them. This is what I’m asking of you now. We must all stick together and stomp this fire out before it spreads.”
“Here is what we’ve learned about this right-wing militant group in just the last two hours, starting with some background: In the early 80’s, with the introduction of personal computers, came a quiet, but still vicious, new form of enemy to justice – cyber-criminals. One of the largest groups, as well as the most lethal, was known as the ‘M.O.D.’ or ‘Masters of Destruction.’ Their aim was to steal anything or destroy anything they could in the digital world. Before they were finally caught, they had caused tens of millions of dollars in damage. A few years later, the group resurfaced, run by those who had eluded capture, now calling themselves ‘Masters of Deception.’ Again, they wreaked havoc in the digital world like never before, causing billions in damage. We believe this group to be another, even more dangerous, incarnation. We prefer to call them the masters of disunity, or perhaps masters of distortion, or disturbance, or perhaps, masters of dogma or drivel.”
“The M.O.D.’s website touts them as modern-day Robin Hoods, stealing from the rich, oppressive government and giving to the poor, the oppressed. But what they are really doing is stealing from you, the taxpayers, and building an army to take over the world, including you, the average American. Their aims are quite well spelled out: conquer the world and kill anyone standing in their way. This includes you, your children, your friends and neighbors. They thrive on chaos and feed on fear, just like any other terrorist organization. Don’t feed these animals. Don’t show fear of them, stand up together, and turn them away, turn them in.”
“Right now, the FBI is offering a $5 million reward for any information leading to the capture of the head, or any leaders of this group. They are offering the same for any information leading to the location of any or all of the stolen military equipment or their base of operations. If you have any of this information, you can call 1-800-STOPMOD, or log on to WWW.STOPMOD.GOV.”
The President turned to Henry, who nodded. “OK, if you have any questions, I will do my best to answer them at this time, although we don’t have a lot of answers presently.”
Hands flying in the air, the room erupted with impatient reporters seeking answers.
Jim surveyed the crowd, and then picked a veteran ABC reporter. “Mr. President, do you know, for fact, that this M.O.D. is related to those hacker groups of the 80’s and 90’s?” he asked.
“No. That is only speculation, to be honest, but there is sound reason to believe it. The depth to which these people have imbedded themselves in the digital world screams of it. We truly believe that to be the case. That is all I will say about that subject. Next.”
“Were the numbers accurate that the M.O.D. claimed about the military equipment?” a young woman asked.
“Very,” Jim answered honestly, soberly. “Next.”
“How could that have happened?” the next reporter questioned.
Jim, having already blamed this one on the general, motioned him forward.
Cautiously, George shuffled forward and planted himself firmly in front of the podium. “We honestly don’t know. We are investigating that right now.”
“Could you speculate?” the reporter interrupted.
“Speculate? I don’t like to speculate. But if I were going to, I’d suspect that they were all stolen by those with access to the equipment – people who were bought off or coerced into stealing them. I have to take full responsibility for the policies that have allowed so many untrustworthy people to assume such responsible positions. In my day, it was very rare for anyone to be bought off by the enemy, but now it’s apparently quite common.”
The reporters were momentarily stunned by his honest answer. It had always been a customary for the White House to hide such thoughts or details, but this administration wanted to set a standard of truth, and George was giving it to them.
“General?” one reporter spoke up during the silence and George pointed to her. “General, you say it’s common – you mean military people taking bribes to steal equipment or technology or intelligence?”
George nodded.
“If they did that, say, with a fighter jet… that would mean they… defected?”
He nodded again, angrily.
“Um, General, how many of your men have defected?” she followed up her line of questions, expecting an elusive answer.
General Clark turned to the President, who motioned him to answer. He turned back, swallowed hard and deep, and said, “Roughly 37,000, ma’am.”
The collective gasp nearly blew his hat off.
“Roughly 37,000 troops have deserted our armed forces?” the next asked.
“Yes,” the general answered flatly.
“Do you know where they are? Any of them?”
“We assume they are working for the enemy. None of them have been found.”
“Could they have been murdered?”
The White House team was praying for that particular question to surface and was prepared for it. “Any time you are dealing with an enemy devoid of morals, anything is possible. It is certainly plausible that each one was executed after dropping off the merchandise so they would be unable to reveal the secret location where they delivered the goods. That would easily explain why we have found none of them at all. If this task was done voluntarily, at least some of them would have felt guilty and come back, begging for forgiveness, or missed their families and contacted them. None have. We certainly hope anyone else confronted with these people would consider this before agreeing to this treasonous and possibly deadly action. Like I said, we are still investigating and we don’t know what ploy M.O.D. employed to lure these individuals, but we would like them to consider, for their own safety, the final consequences of helping these terrorists.”
They had painted a pretty scary picture, just as planned, hoping the speech would frighten soldiers enough to cause at least some to report any contact and divulge any information which might allow the government to put a stop to it.
The next person asked the Homeland Security Director what he was doing about the threat. Cary Brown ambled up to the microphone – he wasn’t keen on speaking in public. “Uh, right now we are doing all we can to locate the missing equipment because it represents a direct threat to public safety. We have raised the alert level to red as well, indicating a terrorist attack is very likely. We are working with the other intelligence agencies to try to track all or any of the stolen property or personnel. At this point, however, we’re still theorizing and probing to find the threat, we can’t eliminate it until we find it.” Cary then eagerly aimed a finger at another reporter who was asking a question for the President.
“Mr. President, what can we expect from this new administration in dealing with this problem that the previous President wouldn’t have done?”
The question seemed to stump him at first, because he wasn’t expecting it. “Well, I’m not campaigning anymore, so I don’t see a reason to compare…” The crowd politely chuckled at his joke. “…but I can assure you that we will confront this problem head-on and eliminate it. Right now it’s way too early and we have barely even become aware of the full scale of our enemy. For all we know, this could be some kid playing a joke. When we have more to go on, we’ll let you know. We are in the ‘gathering information’ stage at this time, and we can’t do anything until we know what needs to be done, but I promise, whatever solution needs to be executed, this administration will do it, if it’s at all possible.”
More reporters screamed for attention, but the President cut them off, “I’d love to answer more questions, but we have a long night ahead of us and I don’t have any more answers for you right now. We will update you when we have more information. Thank you.”
The President and his team turned and left in a hurry, despite the forest of raised hands, leaving the roomful of press members frustrated and unsatisfied with the few crumbs they had been given.
The speech was short, Jim thought as he and his entourage swept down the hallway leading back to the situation room, but they hadn’t had enough time to write a two-hour speech. Besides, he was sure the events themselves would far outweigh any speech he had given, and he hoped he had appeared genuine and honest, on top of things, not jumping to rash conclusions or speculating wildly. He felt the presentation was mature and level.
“That went well,” Henry told the President.
“You really think so?”
“Yes. We hit on all major points, painted M.O.D. as vicious slimeballs, and did it all politely and honestly. I think the Press really appreciated the calm, blunt sincerity,” he opined.
“I just wish we really had some answers, Henry. We need to get some. Now.”
“I agree, Jim. The people are going to lose confidence in us quickly if we don’t produce results and make everyone safe and happy. This isn’t a generation of patience.”
“ABC news assures me there are no interviews whatsoever scheduled for 11:35, nor any close to it tonight; they will be doing the headlines then. We have people monitoring all possible ways to interrupt their signal,” Scott tried to convince Sheelia just minutes before 11:30. They were in her apartment, sitting anxiously in front of the TV.
“He’s already thought of that, or he wouldn’t have told us,” she muttered.
“So you admit it’s a man now?” he asked facetiously.
Sheelia gave him one of her foul looks.
“Here it comes,” he said, deflecting her evil glare.
“In our top story tonight,” the anchor started after his introduction, “Four F-18 fighter jets and a B-2 Stealth Bomber have disappeared during routine training flights today. These incidents are piling up now. Military spokesmen are being tight-lipped about the incidents and many sources have indicated that billions of dollars worth of military equipment has gone missing recently – vanished, without a trace. Some suggest over a trillion dollars. One source in the White House confirmed that more than 40 high-tech aircraft and a hundred land-based vehicles have been stolen, along with millions of rounds of munitions, assault weapons, antiaircraft missiles and tactical missiles. The list is staggering and, I quote, ‘Enough to take over a small country.’”
The scene behind the anchor had been showing various military videos of planes, tanks, missiles and soldiers in action; it switched to the now familiar M.O.D. logo.
“The FBI raided the home of another M.O.D. victim today – this time a 37-year-old single woman. Her name, as usual, has not been released. This is the sixth M.O.D. attack and the largest yet, at $1.5 million. The FBI is still not commenting on whether they have any leads or suspects on the cyber attacks, which have now claimed $2.7 million stolen in the victim’s names.” The scene then changed to a dollar sign with a graph simulating the stock market activity.
“Gee, I wish they’d rub it in,” Sheelia commented angrily.
The announcer continued, “In financial news, stocks continue to fall as the economy fails to recover with stimulus packages and other governmental intervention…”
The sound suddenly cut out briefly and a computer-generated character appeared beside the anchor on the screen. The character closely resembled Orson Welles.
The anchor stopped and stared at his monitor. “I’m sorry; we must be having technical difficulties.”
“No, Bob, we are not having technical difficulties,” the character said, putting on a hat with the “M.O.D.” logo on it and panning out to show him wearing an M.O.D. T-shirt. “Everything is working just fine, for once, thank you.”
“I’m sorry, but who am I talking to?” the anchor asked skittishly, shifting uncomfortably in his seat, eyes darting to the producer and technical staff to signal his confusion at the unexpected interruption.
“It was nice of you to start out your program with three stories related to my appearance tonight, Bob. I am the M.O.D.”
“Um, what do you mean?” The anchor was obviously struggling to maintain his composure and sustain the conversation without his teleprompter.
“Hey, Bob, let me make this easy for you, you seem to need some help,” M.O.D. said. With those words, the teleprompter came to life and started spitting out dialogue for the newsman.
“OK, Mr. M.O.D., what is the significance of the three opening stories in relation to you?” Bob asked.
“Thank you for asking, Bob. It’s simple. Obviously, the second story was about me directly…”
Several technicians ran about the set frantically; Sheelia was on the phone in an instant back in her apartment, asking questions about where the transmission was coming from, how it was being done, how it could be stopped.
“I obviously hacked bank accounts in the name of others. The first story, however, is a bit misleading. I did not steal 247 fighter planes, three nuclear submarines, 13 naval warships, 652 tanks and over 15,000 missile systems and missiles plus millions of other pieces of hardware.” He paused for effect. “I bought them.”
“Where did you get those figures, Mr. M.O.D.?” Bob asked on cue.
“My accountants are either more efficient than the government’s, or more honest. You see, Bob, the government doesn’t want you to know that I now control the fourth most powerful arsenal on the planet, or that I will soon own the largest. They simply don’t know how to tell the truth,” the Welles character stated casually.
“What about the stock market? How do you explain your involvement in that?” Bob read in his professional announcer’s voice as he quickly regained his poise.
The character shrugged, “I’ve been liquidating,” he answered flatly.
Bob knew the implications of that statement and answered without aid of the teleprompter, “A liquidation capable of effecting a 50% drop in the market in six months would have to be an astronomical amount,” Bob blurted.
“Very astute, Bob,” Orson praised him theatrically.
“Oh my god!” Sheelia said in shock.
“We need to contact NSA, CIA, anybody with initials… and the President!” Scott instantly declared, overwhelmed at the revelation.
Bob’s usefulness was over, only one sentence remained for him to read, which he did, heavily, “Mr. M.O.D., what do you hope to achieve with all this money?”
The newsman was then unceremoniously shoved out of the picture and “Mr. M.O.D.” took the full screen. “The United States of America was once a great nation,” he started, “but this United States is not the one our founding fathers set out to build over 200 years ago. This United States stands for everything its citizens have fought against throughout its history: oppression, unwarranted violence against innocent and weaker countries or its own citizens, trampling of human rights, crooked legal systems and socialism. Yes, socialism. Erect the iron curtain again; we’re having a good ol’ cold war right here in this country. But we’re losing this one.”
“Our education system is no better than Hitler’s and Stalin’s propaganda machines. Our children are growing up being told that it’s OK for the government to take all your money and tell you how to spend what’s left, because it’s good for the country. Every time a politician in this country says ‘for the children,’ I can guarantee it’s a tax increase and another step closer to a socialist state. Many people now pay well over half of their wages in taxes and the government spends it all and tells them they need more of it, for the children. Then this money goes to a war machine, a war machine that attacks its own citizens and those of other countries to force them into submission. They spend billions, even trillions of dollars on foreign aid while our own citizens cannot dig out of poverty. They are shackled to their jobs, handcuffed, kept down in order to give them no choice but to keep serving the great empire.”
“If I were to walk up to you and take all of your money, say $100, if you’re lucky enough to have that much now, then give you back $50, would you thank me for giving you $50? NO! You’d call me a thief! Would you thank me for then telling you what you had to buy with the $50 I gave you, since, of course, I gave it to you? NO!”
President James Cahill, a mid-40’s Democrat, an athletic man who was just starting to gray around the temples, sat at his desk in the war room of the White House. The confidence, youthful charisma, and million-dollar smile that put him in this office were all conspicuously absent this day. He ran his hands through his hair, tension and worry consuming him. His chief advisor, Henry Tarkenton, sat on his left; his military advisor, General George F. Clark, sat on his right. They all stared at the mock interview-turned-monologue in shock. “How is this happening?” the President asked.
“I don’t know, Jim,” the general answered, baffled. The doors burst open and a tall, slender man dressed way too impressively, stormed in – Cary Brown, Director of Homeland Security. Behind him was the Director of the FBI, Warren Clemens, followed by Wellington Grant, Director of the CIA.
“What have you got for us?” the President asked the three men.
“This is obviously a terrorist threat…” Cary started, collapsing into a seat.
“We certainly agree with that, Cary; I want to know what you have,” the President cut him off.
He shook his head shamefully.
Jim wasted no time, looking pointedly at the next man to sit down, Warren Clemens, who sputtered, “We are unable to locate the origin of the signal – the best we can determine is that it is coming from within the building, but technicians are doing everything they can, short of cutting power to the place. How that signal is getting on the air, nobody knows.”
“Tell them to cut every line going into the building, smash their transmitters, whatever it takes! If this nutcase is allowed to keep speaking, he’ll have every wacko in Montana joining his cause!” Jim roared, pounding his fist on the table. Warren barked an order into his shirt microphone.
As the character continued, the men again turned their attention to the TV, hopefully anticipating his immediate removal. “But this is how our nation treats us every day, and we take it. And smile about it proudly. We are used by this government, used as tools, as drones, to further them, not us, not the citizens of the United States, but the select few in charge. Our oppression is now rivaling that of China and old Russia, we… Ah, I see they have pulled the plug at ABC studios, nice try fellas, and perfect proof of their determination to shut up people like me…”
“Damn it! Stop this asshole!” the President growled.
“We have a list of terrorists with experience in computer espionage—”
“George, are those numbers of stolen equipment accurate?” Jim suddenly interrupted the Homeland Security director to ask the general.
The general bowed his head, “Dangerously so,” he answered gravely.
Jim then looked to the others, “Who has the ability to use all of this equipment against us?”
None of them had an answer, but the general looked at him hesitantly.
“What, George?” Jim asked impatiently.
“Well, sir, we didn’t see this as a very big problem until now…”
“Oh, for god’s sake, spit it out, George!”
General Clark took a deep breath, “We’ve had record numbers of AWOL’s in the last six months – none of them have been located – and a steadily rising number in recent years. I suspect…”
Jim instantly knew what he suspected. “How many, George?”
“A lot, sir.”
“How many, damn it!”
George swallowed deeply, “Thirty-seven thousand.”
All the air had been sucked out of the room by the revelation. The President finally spoke, “How could this go unnoticed? Thirty-seven thousand! That’s a small army!” he raged.
“Well, sir, there are always spikes in desertion during tough economic and political times…”
“But 37,000!?”
“Well, sir, with all due respect, this is the roughest economic time since the 30’s. Politically, this is like Vietnam all over again.”
Jim turned to his Intel guys, “I want you to find all 37,000, hell, just one of those deserters! Find out why they left, where they went, what they’re planning. I want to know when every relative or contact of theirs takes a shit! They can’t hide all of that equipment anywhere for very long, find it! Don’t those tanks and planes have locators in them?”
The general nodded, “Yes sir, they do, and not many people know about them, but these people must because they are not transmitting.”
Jim pounded his fist again. He looked to Henry, “Should we just go ahead and declare war?” he asked, frazzled.
“On who, sir?” Henry asked plainly.
“Why are you three still here?” Jim suddenly blared at the Intel leaders. “Get me some answers, now!”
Cary, Warren, and Wellington hurriedly gathered their things to leave.
“Warren, stay a moment. Haven’t you been tracking this guy for a while?” he asked the FBI Director, who stopped his packing.
“Yes, sir, or trying to, for eight months. Two of my best agents have been on his trail, but he’s very elusive and seems to be toying with them now. This M.O.D. has some unimaginable resources, sir.”
Jim stood, “Is this a request for more funds? Or an excuse? Find the asshole responsible for this! If you need money, we’ll print all you want. Just get him!”
“Yes sir. I’ll put the best agents in every division on it and provide them with any tools they desire,” he vowed.
“Thank you. I want hourly updates.”
Warren nodded quickly and scurried out the door.
“Henry, I want to know what you think. How do we fight this threat?”
“I think you should have a press conference immediately to calm all fears and assure the people that we are still in charge and... Damn, sir, I don’t know, I’d have the FBI offer a billion dollar reward for this guy.”
Jim slouched back down in his seat, in deep thought for a moment. “Henry, you’ve never steered me wrong, that’s how we got here. We’ve taken down some pretty ruthless and resourceful characters in the political arena, but do you think it’s that serious?”
Henry cleared his throat, “I think the general will agree…” as he glanced at George, who nodded, “this may be the biggest threat we’ve ever faced. Somehow, someone has amassed a huge arsenal, and right under our noses. Serious? Hell yes it’s serious!”
“Fine, get the press team rolling, get speeches written to dispute this terrorist…”
“He hasn’t made any threats, sir,” The general reminded him.
“Dammit! No, you’re right, let’s wait before calling him a terrorist. But he’s definitely a criminal, and I want the entire country looking for him!”
At that moment, on the TV monitors still playing in the background, as if eavesdropping on the President’s meeting, M.O.D. abruptly changed course, “We are not terrorists. We are the last true defenders of the Constitution. We want our country back and we’re willing to fight for it. It’s time for a revolution and we’re going to deliver it. Thomas Jefferson wrote of the right to bear arms as being required to protect us from an oppressive government. We have an oppressive government, and we’re protecting ourselves. No government that is not oppressive would attempt to disarm the people as this one has, as an ultimate, last-ditch effort to control us. It is too late to bargain, too late for diplomacy. This government has declared war on its citizens by holding them hostage against their will. We have no choice but to revolt. Revolution has always cleansed government, it is the only tool made to do just that. It’s nearly spring, and I for one believe it’s time for a spring cleaning.”
“You will be seeing more of us in the near future as we take back this country and restore it to its old glory. Once again, Americans will be proud, other countries will envy instead of detest us. If you wish to find out more, check our progress, join us, or simply show your support, you can check our website at WWW.REVOLUTION.MOD. Thank you and may God bless America once again,” M.O.D. concluded, signing off, leaving just his logo and an eerie silence in his place.
“Son of a bitch! He’s a terrorist now! I want every word of this broadcast analyzed and every speech writer disputing it! Get a copy to them immediately!” The President started to storm out of the room and stopped, “Call a meeting first thing in the morning; I want answers from everyone by then!”
Every TV, radio and Internet site was reporting on the transmission. The Press Secretary promised a response by 12:30. Friends called neighbors, family, and coworkers. They had already estimated that Mr. M.O.D. had a staggering 40 million TV viewers by the end of his broadcast in the United States, but now over 200 million had tuned in to the re-broadcasts and commentaries, with over a billion around the world catching on. President Cahill knew this was going to be the biggest speech in the history of the world, and he was sweating bullets.
At 12:30 the speech writers were still honing their drafts, and the President decided to delay the speech until it was perfect. They researched desperately, digging for anything they could use to rebut the words of this enigmatic M.O.D., looking back for inspiration, but eventually opting to keep it simple.
At 1:15, with over a billion people anticipating the speech, President Cahill took his place behind the Press Secretary, who addressed the crowd, “Good morning, ladies and gentlemen.”
The restless crowd immediately shouted endless questions at him.
“Please, there will be time for questions afterward, I promise. We have quite a unique situation here and the President has worked tirelessly the last two hours to ensure that a proper response to this threat occurs.”
The murmurs and shouts of questions swelled again.
“Please remain quiet until we open the floor for questions. Now, I give you the President of the United States of America,” he announced grandly, stepping aside.
Total silence suddenly engulfed the room as the President approached the podium. He found it hard to breathe. Jim Cahill had been in politics for over 20 years, making hundreds, if not thousands, of speeches during his career, but he hadn’t been truly nervous since his first campaign for Governor of the state of Alabama. Now he was scared. He felt the 200 million American viewers closing in on him as he prepared to speak. He had just been sworn into office two months ago, and he certainly never planned for this.
“My fel…,” he paused, his voice was about to crack. Slowly, he reached under the podium and pulled out a glass of water, taking a sip and returning it. He steeled himself, let out his patented chuckle and said, “Sorry,” then continued. “My fellow Americans, today a new threat to this country has unveiled itself, a threat quite different from any we have ever faced, but a threat nonetheless. This is the first time we have faced a legitimate terrorist threat from within our own borders, the first time our nation has been compromised to any noticeable degree. This terrorist group, going by the name ‘M.O.D.’ has penetrated our very defenses and infiltrated the military itself and, we believe, plans to use it against us now.”
“Complacency weakened us in past administrations, allowing apathy to set in within our troops – dishonor is now acceptable to them. It is no longer considered in bad taste to willfully defy superiors and even conspire against them. Our general morality is at all-time lows, as well as our morale. Some of this is due to eight years of unchecked, irresponsible spending and questionable foreign policy, some due to relaxing of standards across all aspects of our great country. All of this has led us to where we are now, facing worse military and economic times than any generation before us. Times like this always lend weight to the fringe groups out there, the militias, the separatists, etc.”
“I was cautioned about not giving this terrorist group too much weight, to prevent creating a panic amongst the people, but I believe it is essential that we all know exactly what we’re up against. We believe that all of us, as brave Americans, can stand up to this bully and run him out of town. Since the 9/11 attacks, we have grown wiser about thwarting these cowardly aggressions. We all surely remember the plane that fought back. Because of many brave people looking out for their friends and neighbors, we have uncovered several other serious foreign-backed operations since then, and have shut them down before a single American could be harmed by them. This is what I’m asking of you now. We must all stick together and stomp this fire out before it spreads.”
“Here is what we’ve learned about this right-wing militant group in just the last two hours, starting with some background: In the early 80’s, with the introduction of personal computers, came a quiet, but still vicious, new form of enemy to justice – cyber-criminals. One of the largest groups, as well as the most lethal, was known as the ‘M.O.D.’ or ‘Masters of Destruction.’ Their aim was to steal anything or destroy anything they could in the digital world. Before they were finally caught, they had caused tens of millions of dollars in damage. A few years later, the group resurfaced, run by those who had eluded capture, now calling themselves ‘Masters of Deception.’ Again, they wreaked havoc in the digital world like never before, causing billions in damage. We believe this group to be another, even more dangerous, incarnation. We prefer to call them the masters of disunity, or perhaps masters of distortion, or disturbance, or perhaps, masters of dogma or drivel.”
“The M.O.D.’s website touts them as modern-day Robin Hoods, stealing from the rich, oppressive government and giving to the poor, the oppressed. But what they are really doing is stealing from you, the taxpayers, and building an army to take over the world, including you, the average American. Their aims are quite well spelled out: conquer the world and kill anyone standing in their way. This includes you, your children, your friends and neighbors. They thrive on chaos and feed on fear, just like any other terrorist organization. Don’t feed these animals. Don’t show fear of them, stand up together, and turn them away, turn them in.”
“Right now, the FBI is offering a $5 million reward for any information leading to the capture of the head, or any leaders of this group. They are offering the same for any information leading to the location of any or all of the stolen military equipment or their base of operations. If you have any of this information, you can call 1-800-STOPMOD, or log on to WWW.STOPMOD.GOV.”
The President turned to Henry, who nodded. “OK, if you have any questions, I will do my best to answer them at this time, although we don’t have a lot of answers presently.”
Hands flying in the air, the room erupted with impatient reporters seeking answers.
Jim surveyed the crowd, and then picked a veteran ABC reporter. “Mr. President, do you know, for fact, that this M.O.D. is related to those hacker groups of the 80’s and 90’s?” he asked.
“No. That is only speculation, to be honest, but there is sound reason to believe it. The depth to which these people have imbedded themselves in the digital world screams of it. We truly believe that to be the case. That is all I will say about that subject. Next.”
“Were the numbers accurate that the M.O.D. claimed about the military equipment?” a young woman asked.
“Very,” Jim answered honestly, soberly. “Next.”
“How could that have happened?” the next reporter questioned.
Jim, having already blamed this one on the general, motioned him forward.
Cautiously, George shuffled forward and planted himself firmly in front of the podium. “We honestly don’t know. We are investigating that right now.”
“Could you speculate?” the reporter interrupted.
“Speculate? I don’t like to speculate. But if I were going to, I’d suspect that they were all stolen by those with access to the equipment – people who were bought off or coerced into stealing them. I have to take full responsibility for the policies that have allowed so many untrustworthy people to assume such responsible positions. In my day, it was very rare for anyone to be bought off by the enemy, but now it’s apparently quite common.”
The reporters were momentarily stunned by his honest answer. It had always been a customary for the White House to hide such thoughts or details, but this administration wanted to set a standard of truth, and George was giving it to them.
“General?” one reporter spoke up during the silence and George pointed to her. “General, you say it’s common – you mean military people taking bribes to steal equipment or technology or intelligence?”
George nodded.
“If they did that, say, with a fighter jet… that would mean they… defected?”
He nodded again, angrily.
“Um, General, how many of your men have defected?” she followed up her line of questions, expecting an elusive answer.
General Clark turned to the President, who motioned him to answer. He turned back, swallowed hard and deep, and said, “Roughly 37,000, ma’am.”
The collective gasp nearly blew his hat off.
“Roughly 37,000 troops have deserted our armed forces?” the next asked.
“Yes,” the general answered flatly.
“Do you know where they are? Any of them?”
“We assume they are working for the enemy. None of them have been found.”
“Could they have been murdered?”
The White House team was praying for that particular question to surface and was prepared for it. “Any time you are dealing with an enemy devoid of morals, anything is possible. It is certainly plausible that each one was executed after dropping off the merchandise so they would be unable to reveal the secret location where they delivered the goods. That would easily explain why we have found none of them at all. If this task was done voluntarily, at least some of them would have felt guilty and come back, begging for forgiveness, or missed their families and contacted them. None have. We certainly hope anyone else confronted with these people would consider this before agreeing to this treasonous and possibly deadly action. Like I said, we are still investigating and we don’t know what ploy M.O.D. employed to lure these individuals, but we would like them to consider, for their own safety, the final consequences of helping these terrorists.”
They had painted a pretty scary picture, just as planned, hoping the speech would frighten soldiers enough to cause at least some to report any contact and divulge any information which might allow the government to put a stop to it.
The next person asked the Homeland Security Director what he was doing about the threat. Cary Brown ambled up to the microphone – he wasn’t keen on speaking in public. “Uh, right now we are doing all we can to locate the missing equipment because it represents a direct threat to public safety. We have raised the alert level to red as well, indicating a terrorist attack is very likely. We are working with the other intelligence agencies to try to track all or any of the stolen property or personnel. At this point, however, we’re still theorizing and probing to find the threat, we can’t eliminate it until we find it.” Cary then eagerly aimed a finger at another reporter who was asking a question for the President.
“Mr. President, what can we expect from this new administration in dealing with this problem that the previous President wouldn’t have done?”
The question seemed to stump him at first, because he wasn’t expecting it. “Well, I’m not campaigning anymore, so I don’t see a reason to compare…” The crowd politely chuckled at his joke. “…but I can assure you that we will confront this problem head-on and eliminate it. Right now it’s way too early and we have barely even become aware of the full scale of our enemy. For all we know, this could be some kid playing a joke. When we have more to go on, we’ll let you know. We are in the ‘gathering information’ stage at this time, and we can’t do anything until we know what needs to be done, but I promise, whatever solution needs to be executed, this administration will do it, if it’s at all possible.”
More reporters screamed for attention, but the President cut them off, “I’d love to answer more questions, but we have a long night ahead of us and I don’t have any more answers for you right now. We will update you when we have more information. Thank you.”
The President and his team turned and left in a hurry, despite the forest of raised hands, leaving the roomful of press members frustrated and unsatisfied with the few crumbs they had been given.
The speech was short, Jim thought as he and his entourage swept down the hallway leading back to the situation room, but they hadn’t had enough time to write a two-hour speech. Besides, he was sure the events themselves would far outweigh any speech he had given, and he hoped he had appeared genuine and honest, on top of things, not jumping to rash conclusions or speculating wildly. He felt the presentation was mature and level.
“That went well,” Henry told the President.
“You really think so?”
“Yes. We hit on all major points, painted M.O.D. as vicious slimeballs, and did it all politely and honestly. I think the Press really appreciated the calm, blunt sincerity,” he opined.
“I just wish we really had some answers, Henry. We need to get some. Now.”
“I agree, Jim. The people are going to lose confidence in us quickly if we don’t produce results and make everyone safe and happy. This isn’t a generation of patience.”
