Chapter 2
Wednesday, March 11, 2009, 7:30 AM
“Here’s a good one,” Scott said, sitting in front of Sheelia’s computer. They had logged onto M.O.D.’s website shortly after the press conference and had been on all night. “This one says, ‘M.O.D. stands for Ministers of Doom’. Wait. Look at this!”
In red letters at the end of the message, M.O.D.WebGuru commented, “This message was sent by Alan Crane, White House Press Secretary Aide – an obvious propaganda attempt. We believe in truth, not propaganda, so this comment and all others like it will be flagged and the truth revealed.”
“Wow, how did they trace that to Alan Crane, I thought their computers were secure?” Sheelia asked, confused.
“Secure is a relative term in cyberspace, Sheelia. Whoa! More of them have been flagged,” he exclaimed as he scrolled through the comments.
“Want more coffee?” she asked.
“Sure. Hey, this one says it’s from Abe Samson, our own computer security consultant. Give him a call.”
“It’s 7:30 in the morning, Scott,” she protested.
“So?”
“He never comes in to work until like 4:00 PM. He’s a nerd – he plays all night and sleeps all day.”
“He posted it at 7:12, so he shouldn’t mind.”
Sheelia shrugged, grabbing the phone on the way back with coffee and dialing Abe.
“Hey Shee, what’s up?” Abe answered on speaker.
“Oh, nothing, we were just reading M.O.D.’s forums under the ‘What does M.O.D. stand for’ thread and saw that you posted a message saying M.O.D. stands for monsters of dumbness. Kind of childish coming from you,” Scott goaded.
“Uh, funny, but that’s not possible, dude.”
“So you’re saying they made up your name or something, trying to give the illusion that we’re playing propaganda games?” Sheelia cut in with her suspicion.
“No, Shee. I mean there’s no way they could have traced that back to me because I spoofed through a dozen fake IP’s and forced at least ten different routers to fake my address along the way.”
Scott and Sheelia looked at each other. “You mean you really wrote that?” Scott finally asked.
“Oh, yeah, dude, but… Damn. These guys are playing on a whole new level.”
They all went silent a few seconds before Scott directed, “Abe, I want you to personally check to verify that they are right about these addresses, and warn them not to post any more messages with fake names if it’s true.”
“There are like hundreds, Scott,” Sheelia butted in.
“OK, check a good sample of them and tell Warren to spread that information to every agency,” Scott revised his order.
“OK, Bud. Will do.”
“Oh, and Abe?”
“Yeah, dude?”
“See if you can figure out how they traced you.”
“Uh, I just said it’s impossible, dude. I’d be wasting my time trying.”
“Try anyway. And try a more mature response next time, like Special Agent Hawkins; he called them ‘Ministers of Distortion.’”
“Hah. Right, Bud. Later.”
Scott leaned back and took a sip of coffee as he read on. “Muslims on Dope. Original, at least. I noticed most of them are anti-M.O.D., but now I see that’s because most of them came from Washington. Kind of enlightening to see the true poster’s name,” he commented.
“Why don’t you go back to the main forum where they actually discuss things, Scott? This stuff really isn’t important. We need to try to find out what or who these people are. Maybe they will give away something.”
“OK. Wait – there’s a new post, from M.O.D.,” he said, clicking on it, then read, “Some answers here are very clever, some childish, but none as simple as the truth. M.O.D. stands for ‘Maintaining Our Democracy,’ which explains what we stand for. More accurately, a return to the democracy that once made this nation great. The administrator is locking this thread now since it’s not productive.”
“Deep,” Scott decided out loud.
“Simple is right,” Sheelia added.
“Right, it’s so simple, it’s deep. This guy definitely has a way of cutting things down to the basics.”
“Yeah, so he’ll be persuading lots of easily manipulated, dissatisfied and simple-minded people – people who are easy to control,” Sheelia said, animatedly rolling her eyes.
“Well, Shee, he’s not dumb, he’s proven that, but he speaks on an even level with everyone, relates to them with his non-condescending demeanor and he doesn’t have to try to impress people by using big words, he just says what he means.”
Sheelia stared dumbly at him.
“What?”
“Are you turning into one of his fans?” she accused, but held a smile.
Scott laughed, “Right, I’m changing my name to Ali Ahmed and buying a whole new wardrobe with pockets sewn inside to hold bombs.”
She slapped the back of his head. “Come on, Scott, be honest. I’ve heard you complain of some of the same things he’s been protesting – government waste, socialist views, government interfering in business, manipulating the stock market, trying to control people’s thoughts, social medicine, strong-arm tactics, even oppression.”
“Come on, Shee. I have this job to stop nut-cases like this. I may believe in some of his issues, but I believe they can be peacefully addressed through the processes designed to do so.”
“Right. And you think there’s a peaceful way to take back trillions of dollars in wasted tax money stolen by the same people who are supposed to stop it?” she responded.
“Who’s the fan of M.O.D. now?” he asked facetiously.
“That perfectly explains our problem. He’s right. Of course I don’t agree with stealing money and arms, though,” she qualified.
“He does spark healthy debate, doesn’t he?” Scott allowed, commenting more than asking.
“Yeah, I guess so. Let’s hope that’s his goal – debate through intimidation.”
“Debate through intimidation?” he repeated.
“Sounds good, anyway. Worked with Reagan – ‘peace through intimidation,’” she said with a shrug.
Scott turned around and faced her with a grin, “OK, let me play devil’s advocate. How would you propose accomplishing what he’s trying to do?”
She didn’t answer, mulling over the question with much difficulty.
“Would you talk to your congressman?” he asked.
“No, that wouldn’t even be taken into consideration,” she answered quickly.
“Write the President?”
She again laughed, “He wouldn’t even read it, much less consider it.”
“Start a protest?”
“We’d be arrested, beaten or at least threatened.”
Scott proposed several peaceful methods, which she instantly declined as pointless, having no chance of achieving the goal. “Then, with none of those options available, would you then decide to create your own army and take it over by force?” he finally asked.
“Of course not!” she defiantly spat.
“But you can think of no other way to effect change in our allegedly corrupt government?”
“Well, no, but…”
“So you would be willing to stay oppressed instead of fighting for your freedom?”
“Well…”
“If this were China and not the US, would you approve of force to free its people from tyranny?”
She sunk down. “I see what you’re saying. You’re right. I would. But this isn’t China, it IS the US.”
“Is it?”
Those words hung in the air until the phone rang a minute later.
“Whatcha got?” Sheelia answered the phone.
“Just wanted to let you know we still can’t get a fix on the location of the website, or where M.O.D. is connecting. We’ve physically studied hundreds of routers looking for a clue as to how they are being fooled. But I verified seven of seven of those posters and decided it was enough to inform Director Clemens. We’re still trying to track the website, but I don’t see any breakthrough coming soon.”
“Thanks, Abe,” she said. She had expected as much, but had still hoped for a breakthrough.
“Doing the best I can, Shee. Sorry I’m not up to par on this one,” he apologized.
“It’s OK. I have a feeling nobody is up to par on this one. You’ve never failed us before. We’ll catch a break somewhere. Talk to you later.”
“See ya Shee. And you guys get some sleep or you’ll have to stop teasing me for my odd habits.”
She giggled, “I think you got us beat on odd habits, Abe, but we’ll try,” she said before hanging up.
“No luck?” Scott asked.
“None.”
“I think we should go through these forums and look for any clues that might help.”
“I think we should go to bed,” Sheelia interrupted with a yawn. “Abe said he would start calling us geeks if we keep staying up on the computer all night.”
“I’m not tired.”
“Well, I’m gonna crash. If you get tired, the couch bed still has sheets on it from last time and there are pillows in the hall closet. Good night, er rather, good morning, Scott,” she mumbled before staggering off like a zombie to her room.
Scott began browsing the main forum, primarily reading through posts from M.O.D. himself. At first, he thought M.O.D. had to be several people; he even theorized it was actually a super-smart computer. But as he read on, he realized both ideas were wrong, this was one mind, a human mind, and a very quick, efficient one at that. He would write something one minute and reply to something else the next, never missing a beat, pulling facts out of the air, calling people instantly on lies and deceptions, even pointing out what their true names were when they tried to hide identities. All of his answers were short, sharp and concise. He seemed to be carrying on a dozen or more debates at once, winning them all.
Scott decided to engage his enemy after casing him for a while. He thought for several minutes about what to say, finally deciding to join a topic that was already started under the name “Freedom, or a different type of oppression?”
The writer had started with an interesting point that obviously got M.O.D.’s attention: “M.O.D., what type of control do you plan to execute if you take power from this government? Will you then simply shift oppression to those who were previously in charge? How is that any different from what you’re supposedly fighting against?” It was signed Matt Thompson, Greenville, SC.
M.O.D. replied a minute later, “Your premise is flawed and you base part of your conclusion on assumption, but your concerns are valid. I see you have a lot to lose, though, as you are quite wealthy and have gotten that way by taking advantage of this country’s people through your government contracts, for which you bribed several people. You should start by posting your true name and position, Mr. Steve Gaines, owner of Gaines Engineering and Consulting. You should also admit you have a lot to lose if this government goes under because you won’t be able to do business in the same corrupt way anymore. Frankly, you have a lot to fear from us, because you will have to run a legitimate business to make money after we’re finished, so your deception is understandable, although not excusable.”
“In spite of that, I’ll answer your question. Your premise is flawed in that you assume we will take control of the government. Honestly, Mr. Gaines, we want nothing to do with this government, we want to start over. Any remnant of this corrupt government will only corrupt the future government. Also, you assume that ‘we’ plan to control it. That couldn’t be farther from the truth. Once M.O.D. has accomplished its goal, it will cease to exist — at least in any noticeable capacity other than a watchdog group. We do not plan to make any of us president, or even congressmen or senators, we wish only to return this country to the people, as stated so clearly in the phrase ‘of the people.’ Although many members may certainly decide to run for office, mostly, we wish to remain citizens of a country of which we can be proud. If you consider forcing corrupt politicians and corrupt businessmen, such as yourself, to pursue honest lives as ‘oppression’, then I suppose we will cause more oppression as you feared. We can live with that. Question is, how can you live with opposing it?”
A few other posts criticized M.O.D., claiming he was lying about not wanting power since he was ambitious enough to try to overthrow the government. So far, he had either ignored those posts or been busy replying to others. Scott decided to climb on the bandwagon.
“M.O.D. has the power he seeks. He has already started to control people and criticize the present regime for not controlling people as he would. He places himself above all others, but has no personal record to be critiqued by others. He is god in his own mind, above all, looking down and deciding what’s best for everyone.” He signed the message Scott Carver, Special Agent with the FBI.
He waited several minutes for a reply, scanning other posts and noticing M.O.D. was answering other messages at the time. Finally, he received an alert that he had a reply and clicked to check it. It was from M.O.D.
“Well good morning, Scott, it’s about time you quit reading all night and started posting. I see you are still at Sheelia’s house. How is she?”
“In some ways, you are correct in your post. I have always enjoyed criticizing, not as some sort of god complex, but as a way to seek improvement in things. I have always found it a great exercise to seek out solutions to problems. The greater the problem, the more exciting the challenge. I do not, however, seek to be above anyone. I only wish to share in the benefits of the solutions, if possible, or enjoy the satisfaction of having solved the problem. I do not look down on others who have either allowed the problem to persist or ignored it, and I do not see myself as one who is simply smarter than they. Instead, I see myself as one who took the time to try to solve the problem. You, no doubt, came up with the same solutions I did, didn’t you? The fact is, you solved the problem quicker than I. I don’t see ideas as competitions, though. I do not wish to massage my ego as you suggest. If you were to have taken action to solve this problem, I would eagerly join in under your command, Scott. But, since nobody else did take action, I did. Reluctantly, but dutifully. I have very carefully weighed the possibilities and believe revolution to be the only attainable solution at this time. If you have developed a better solution, I am certainly interested and would gladly offer any assistance I could. War is the last option, not the first.”
Scott read the message three times, trying to disagree, trying to think of another fix, but couldn’t. There had to be another solution, he thought. Finally, he formed a response. “Sheelia is fine. She’s sleeping. I’m sure she would just be thrilled that you asked about her, in a creepy sort of way.”
“It is quite arrogant of you to think that your solution is the only one, or the right one for that matter. Killing the people of this country hardly seems beneficial to it. Have you ever considered that your solution could be an even larger problem?”
Scott sat back and re-read his message. Satisfied, he sent it. A response came quickly.
“I don’t believe it is arrogant to open up for discussion this very topic, hoping for better ideas. As I stated, war is a last resort. If someone smarter than you or I comes up with a better solution, I’m all for it. I don’t want to see anyone die, especially at my command, but the fact is that all governments in history have been overturned and most of them in a violent manner, for that was the only option left to them. Please explain how my solution, which you do not fully know, is a larger problem.”
Scott quickly answered, “Having this website is simply a means to promote your dangerous ideas.”
M.O.D. countered, “Then why allow opposite views like yours, Agent Carver? If we were interested in merely attacking and killing, then we would have done that without revealing ourselves, catching the government by surprise. And if we wished a propaganda website, this forum wouldn’t be here where anyone could offer their views, ideas or even pointless insults.”
“Or mindless support? I notice you have pointed out those who tried to oppose you anonymously, but I don’t see you revealing the true identities of your supporters,” Scott accused.
“We have plainly listed as a rule for posting here that we will allow no anonymous posts and all who attempt to post anonymously will have their identity revealed. It is not my fault that those who oppose us wish to try to deceive us and others. The fact is, so far 327 posts have been made by government supporters who lied about their names and only three by our supporters, all three of which happened to be government employees who were afraid of the government finding out their true feelings. Unfortunately, we had to display their real names as well. You should do your homework before you make such claims. We hold the truth very highly here,” M.O.D. wrote.
“Don’t you think it’s hypocritical to wield such absolute control over such things?” Scott asked.
“People choose to post here, under the conditions we set to provide total honesty and no deceit. Does this government give us that same courtesy? Why are those people so afraid to speak out against the government that they had to hide their names? Why are there more than 15,000 government members, or those associated with the government, who are reading selected articles in support of us but not commenting at all? Is it because we have caused them fear of oppression, or our government has? You, yourself, have written of the overbearing reach of this government into our thoughts,” M.O.D. answered swiftly.
Scott was starting to get angry that this M.O.D. knew so much about him while he knew nothing about M.O.D. “Maybe those people didn’t feel like responding to such nonsense? I find it odd that only three spoke out against the government. And I’m not at issue here.”
M.O.D. must have been interested in Scott’s words, for he seemed to be only answering him at this time, his next message coming in seconds. “Actually, we keep excellent statistics here, Scott, and thus far, among government employees, contractors, and others who work in concert with them, 1,473 have posted favorably toward us, despite the fear that many also expressed, of backlash from their words. Only 917 have posted against us, with a large percentage of those trying to hide their identity, attempting to deceive just as their government has taught them to do. And I’m sure that the more than 60,000 former government employees who now work for us, voluntarily, shows a little more powerful statement. This personal dialogue, between us, is largely about you, because we would love to have more people like you, who agree with us, and are on our side where they belong, using their valuable talents for good.”
Scott marveled at how M.O.D. could have formed such a lengthy and statistical response so quickly, but he was more concerned with the remarks about his thoughts, which literally blew him back in his seat. “You have me at a severe disadvantage. You know so much about me, but I know nothing about you,” he wrote, knowing nothing to combat the words he just read.
“This isn’t a competition, Scott. Knowing who I am is not important. Although you probably believe it will help you catch me, it serves no productive use to our goals.”
“So you seek to remain anonymous while disallowing others to do the same?”
“Yes, for the good of our cause, I certainly do.”
“For the good of their cause, maybe some of those other people wish to remain anonymous.”
“Then they should start their own website and make their own rules and quit trying to break someone else’s.”
“As bold and powerful as you are, you are afraid of this government catching you, still?” Scott challenged.
“Yes, frankly. Although I don’t believe they can, I’m not taking any chances. Does this really surprise you, Scott? This government cheats, and it can do anything to any of us for any reason they see fit.”
“You are a criminal. You have broken their laws, which they set.”
“Even if I hadn’t, they would make up new ones or falsify evidence to convict me anyway. Although what we are doing is proscribed by the Constitution, in the name of the people, we are going to take this country back from our enemy. The greatest threat to the citizens of the United States has become its own government, so we are exercising our right to take up arms against that threat.”
“You stole billions of dollars of military equipment…”
“Which belongs to the people, not this foreign government.”
Scott was getting frustrated. This M.O.D. thought he was so righteous, it angered him. And he had a job to do. “OK, if you can’t tell me who you are, can you tell me something about yourself?” he finally asked.
“So you can try to find out who I am and catch me? Always the focused and determined agent, Scott?”
“Maybe so I can try to understand you better, too,” he answered honestly.
“I think you know me quite well, Scott. Why don’t you tell me what you think you’ve figured out so far?” M.O.D. challenged him this time.
Scott thought there was a chance to use his ego against him, so he carefully constructed a basic profile of M.O.D., and then casually presented it. “All I’ve gathered so far is you’re a male, early forties, been sitting in front of your computer since you were about ten years old, and you’ve never been out in the real world long enough to do anything but theorize what it’s like. I doubt you’ve ever even had a girlfriend and you slacked your way through school to avoid notice.” Scott decided his words were just harsh enough to spark a reaction, and sent the message.
“That’s why we need more people like you and I, Scott, we’re very perceptive, but not always perfect. I am in my early 40’s and a man, and I have certainly logged my share of time in front of my computer since the age of eight. But I have definitely been out in the real world, Scott, working full-time for over 20 years. I admit I had a rough time getting dates as a kid, but I was happily married for nine years and have four children – 13- and eleven-year-old boys and a set of twin nine-year-old girls,” M.O.D. divulged.
Wow, Scott thought, he gave away some info! “That’s quite interesting. So what caused you to turn against the government?” he asked, as he wrote down the ages of the kids and the length of his marriage.
“You overestimate my desire for secrecy, Scott. If you search hard enough, you can find my name, but that won’t tell you where I am. If you insist on digging though, I won’t hold back any background information here. I guess I’ve been skeptical of this government all my life. As have you.”
Scott called Abe while waiting and reading. “Abe, I need you to search for all males in their lower 40’s meeting this criteria: four kids – 13 and eleven-year-old males and nine-year-old twin females; married roughly nine years; divorced, I would guess; extensive computer knowledge; employed continuously for the past 20 years. Stay on and I’ll try to narrow the search as you go.”
“Is this our M.O.D.?” Abe asked excitedly.
“Possibly.”
Abe acknowledged and went to work.
Scott wrote another reply, “Why don’t you just cut the games then and tell me who you are so we can get to what’s important here?”
“Why don’t you skip asking and get to what’s important? The information I gave you would narrow it down to 37 people, by the way, I’m sure your man will tell you that shortly. The twins really set it off. Then again, it could be a ruse, just to send you on another wild goose chase. Either way, you’re wasting time.”
“Scott, I’ve got 37 possible hits on that search. We could narrow it down to one easily with a single date. They are all unique…” Abe came across the speaker.
“Never mind that, Abe, try to contact them all. The one you can’t find is him.”
Scott decided quickly to take M.O.D.’s advice and focus on what he considered important. “OK, M.O.D., I’d like to have a name to call you, but I’d rather see if we can find another solution together – maybe negotiate?” he wrote.
“Wow, I made this thread private a while ago in anticipation that you would keep going until you found my identity. I hardly think you have the authority to negotiate on behalf of the United States, and they don’t negotiate with so-called terrorists anyway.”
“I can at least try to inform the President,” Scott offered, but as soon as he sent the message, he knew M.O.D. was right.
“We don’t want to negotiate with them either – they have to be replaced.”
Scott continued to chat with M.O.D. for an hour, occasionally gaining more clues to who he was, but not concerning himself with it anymore. He learned that M.O.D. had used the handle “Inspector” in the early 80’s, while part of the original M.O.D., very involved in the hacking community – breaking into government computers for fun, stealing secrets, copying video games and so forth. He wrote software for Internet companies, including infrastructure-building networking giants like Cisco, 3Com, and Nortel during the 90’s, and many security programs for the world’s largest banks. Scott was absolutely certain this information would lead directly to a name, but he didn’t bother with it. He was enjoying the conversation too much. At the conclusion, he said, “You know you gave me enough info to find your name, right?”
“Yes,” M.O.D. replied easily, then he added, “But I don’t believe you will use it.”
“It wouldn’t tell me where you are anyway,” Scott agreed, then added, “But I’m gonna find it anyway so I can call you by a proper name.”
“Very well, then, you can call me Eric.”
“OK, Eric, I’m going to bed.”
They signed off and Scott called Abe again. “Abe, the list was a ruse, throw it all out.”
“I was just about to call you. We’ve found everyone on that list but one, an Eric Williams…”
“Eric Williams was created by him, but send me the info anyway. Sorry man.”
“No prob. This dude is slick, but I’ll keep trying,” Abe said, then hung up.
Scott took the time to set up the bed, then checked his e-mail and read Eric’s file quickly. Eric Williams was 41 years old, born in Greensboro, NC. He graduated high school with a mediocre 2.1 GPA, but won the state math and science fairs – a typical underachiever. In college, however, he breezed through with perfect grades in three years and landed a job with Siemens, but quickly began contracting his work out to all takers. In 1995, he married Mary Ann Toth, and they had their first child, John, early in 1996, followed by Matt in late 1997, and the twins, Brandy and Breanna, in the summer of 1999.
In April 2004, Mary Ann was killed while on assignment for the… “I see now, Eric,” he whispered. Mary Ann had worked for the CIA. Her file showed she wasn’t a spy or anything so glamorous, but she was researching for them in London when she was abducted, tortured and subsequently executed by a terrorist group who wanted revenge for clandestine attacks by the CIA in Pakistan. He shut off the computer and crawled into bed, mulling over the information.
Wednesday, March 11, 2009, 7:30 AM
“Here’s a good one,” Scott said, sitting in front of Sheelia’s computer. They had logged onto M.O.D.’s website shortly after the press conference and had been on all night. “This one says, ‘M.O.D. stands for Ministers of Doom’. Wait. Look at this!”
In red letters at the end of the message, M.O.D.WebGuru commented, “This message was sent by Alan Crane, White House Press Secretary Aide – an obvious propaganda attempt. We believe in truth, not propaganda, so this comment and all others like it will be flagged and the truth revealed.”
“Wow, how did they trace that to Alan Crane, I thought their computers were secure?” Sheelia asked, confused.
“Secure is a relative term in cyberspace, Sheelia. Whoa! More of them have been flagged,” he exclaimed as he scrolled through the comments.
“Want more coffee?” she asked.
“Sure. Hey, this one says it’s from Abe Samson, our own computer security consultant. Give him a call.”
“It’s 7:30 in the morning, Scott,” she protested.
“So?”
“He never comes in to work until like 4:00 PM. He’s a nerd – he plays all night and sleeps all day.”
“He posted it at 7:12, so he shouldn’t mind.”
Sheelia shrugged, grabbing the phone on the way back with coffee and dialing Abe.
“Hey Shee, what’s up?” Abe answered on speaker.
“Oh, nothing, we were just reading M.O.D.’s forums under the ‘What does M.O.D. stand for’ thread and saw that you posted a message saying M.O.D. stands for monsters of dumbness. Kind of childish coming from you,” Scott goaded.
“Uh, funny, but that’s not possible, dude.”
“So you’re saying they made up your name or something, trying to give the illusion that we’re playing propaganda games?” Sheelia cut in with her suspicion.
“No, Shee. I mean there’s no way they could have traced that back to me because I spoofed through a dozen fake IP’s and forced at least ten different routers to fake my address along the way.”
Scott and Sheelia looked at each other. “You mean you really wrote that?” Scott finally asked.
“Oh, yeah, dude, but… Damn. These guys are playing on a whole new level.”
They all went silent a few seconds before Scott directed, “Abe, I want you to personally check to verify that they are right about these addresses, and warn them not to post any more messages with fake names if it’s true.”
“There are like hundreds, Scott,” Sheelia butted in.
“OK, check a good sample of them and tell Warren to spread that information to every agency,” Scott revised his order.
“OK, Bud. Will do.”
“Oh, and Abe?”
“Yeah, dude?”
“See if you can figure out how they traced you.”
“Uh, I just said it’s impossible, dude. I’d be wasting my time trying.”
“Try anyway. And try a more mature response next time, like Special Agent Hawkins; he called them ‘Ministers of Distortion.’”
“Hah. Right, Bud. Later.”
Scott leaned back and took a sip of coffee as he read on. “Muslims on Dope. Original, at least. I noticed most of them are anti-M.O.D., but now I see that’s because most of them came from Washington. Kind of enlightening to see the true poster’s name,” he commented.
“Why don’t you go back to the main forum where they actually discuss things, Scott? This stuff really isn’t important. We need to try to find out what or who these people are. Maybe they will give away something.”
“OK. Wait – there’s a new post, from M.O.D.,” he said, clicking on it, then read, “Some answers here are very clever, some childish, but none as simple as the truth. M.O.D. stands for ‘Maintaining Our Democracy,’ which explains what we stand for. More accurately, a return to the democracy that once made this nation great. The administrator is locking this thread now since it’s not productive.”
“Deep,” Scott decided out loud.
“Simple is right,” Sheelia added.
“Right, it’s so simple, it’s deep. This guy definitely has a way of cutting things down to the basics.”
“Yeah, so he’ll be persuading lots of easily manipulated, dissatisfied and simple-minded people – people who are easy to control,” Sheelia said, animatedly rolling her eyes.
“Well, Shee, he’s not dumb, he’s proven that, but he speaks on an even level with everyone, relates to them with his non-condescending demeanor and he doesn’t have to try to impress people by using big words, he just says what he means.”
Sheelia stared dumbly at him.
“What?”
“Are you turning into one of his fans?” she accused, but held a smile.
Scott laughed, “Right, I’m changing my name to Ali Ahmed and buying a whole new wardrobe with pockets sewn inside to hold bombs.”
She slapped the back of his head. “Come on, Scott, be honest. I’ve heard you complain of some of the same things he’s been protesting – government waste, socialist views, government interfering in business, manipulating the stock market, trying to control people’s thoughts, social medicine, strong-arm tactics, even oppression.”
“Come on, Shee. I have this job to stop nut-cases like this. I may believe in some of his issues, but I believe they can be peacefully addressed through the processes designed to do so.”
“Right. And you think there’s a peaceful way to take back trillions of dollars in wasted tax money stolen by the same people who are supposed to stop it?” she responded.
“Who’s the fan of M.O.D. now?” he asked facetiously.
“That perfectly explains our problem. He’s right. Of course I don’t agree with stealing money and arms, though,” she qualified.
“He does spark healthy debate, doesn’t he?” Scott allowed, commenting more than asking.
“Yeah, I guess so. Let’s hope that’s his goal – debate through intimidation.”
“Debate through intimidation?” he repeated.
“Sounds good, anyway. Worked with Reagan – ‘peace through intimidation,’” she said with a shrug.
Scott turned around and faced her with a grin, “OK, let me play devil’s advocate. How would you propose accomplishing what he’s trying to do?”
She didn’t answer, mulling over the question with much difficulty.
“Would you talk to your congressman?” he asked.
“No, that wouldn’t even be taken into consideration,” she answered quickly.
“Write the President?”
She again laughed, “He wouldn’t even read it, much less consider it.”
“Start a protest?”
“We’d be arrested, beaten or at least threatened.”
Scott proposed several peaceful methods, which she instantly declined as pointless, having no chance of achieving the goal. “Then, with none of those options available, would you then decide to create your own army and take it over by force?” he finally asked.
“Of course not!” she defiantly spat.
“But you can think of no other way to effect change in our allegedly corrupt government?”
“Well, no, but…”
“So you would be willing to stay oppressed instead of fighting for your freedom?”
“Well…”
“If this were China and not the US, would you approve of force to free its people from tyranny?”
She sunk down. “I see what you’re saying. You’re right. I would. But this isn’t China, it IS the US.”
“Is it?”
Those words hung in the air until the phone rang a minute later.
“Whatcha got?” Sheelia answered the phone.
“Just wanted to let you know we still can’t get a fix on the location of the website, or where M.O.D. is connecting. We’ve physically studied hundreds of routers looking for a clue as to how they are being fooled. But I verified seven of seven of those posters and decided it was enough to inform Director Clemens. We’re still trying to track the website, but I don’t see any breakthrough coming soon.”
“Thanks, Abe,” she said. She had expected as much, but had still hoped for a breakthrough.
“Doing the best I can, Shee. Sorry I’m not up to par on this one,” he apologized.
“It’s OK. I have a feeling nobody is up to par on this one. You’ve never failed us before. We’ll catch a break somewhere. Talk to you later.”
“See ya Shee. And you guys get some sleep or you’ll have to stop teasing me for my odd habits.”
She giggled, “I think you got us beat on odd habits, Abe, but we’ll try,” she said before hanging up.
“No luck?” Scott asked.
“None.”
“I think we should go through these forums and look for any clues that might help.”
“I think we should go to bed,” Sheelia interrupted with a yawn. “Abe said he would start calling us geeks if we keep staying up on the computer all night.”
“I’m not tired.”
“Well, I’m gonna crash. If you get tired, the couch bed still has sheets on it from last time and there are pillows in the hall closet. Good night, er rather, good morning, Scott,” she mumbled before staggering off like a zombie to her room.
Scott began browsing the main forum, primarily reading through posts from M.O.D. himself. At first, he thought M.O.D. had to be several people; he even theorized it was actually a super-smart computer. But as he read on, he realized both ideas were wrong, this was one mind, a human mind, and a very quick, efficient one at that. He would write something one minute and reply to something else the next, never missing a beat, pulling facts out of the air, calling people instantly on lies and deceptions, even pointing out what their true names were when they tried to hide identities. All of his answers were short, sharp and concise. He seemed to be carrying on a dozen or more debates at once, winning them all.
Scott decided to engage his enemy after casing him for a while. He thought for several minutes about what to say, finally deciding to join a topic that was already started under the name “Freedom, or a different type of oppression?”
The writer had started with an interesting point that obviously got M.O.D.’s attention: “M.O.D., what type of control do you plan to execute if you take power from this government? Will you then simply shift oppression to those who were previously in charge? How is that any different from what you’re supposedly fighting against?” It was signed Matt Thompson, Greenville, SC.
M.O.D. replied a minute later, “Your premise is flawed and you base part of your conclusion on assumption, but your concerns are valid. I see you have a lot to lose, though, as you are quite wealthy and have gotten that way by taking advantage of this country’s people through your government contracts, for which you bribed several people. You should start by posting your true name and position, Mr. Steve Gaines, owner of Gaines Engineering and Consulting. You should also admit you have a lot to lose if this government goes under because you won’t be able to do business in the same corrupt way anymore. Frankly, you have a lot to fear from us, because you will have to run a legitimate business to make money after we’re finished, so your deception is understandable, although not excusable.”
“In spite of that, I’ll answer your question. Your premise is flawed in that you assume we will take control of the government. Honestly, Mr. Gaines, we want nothing to do with this government, we want to start over. Any remnant of this corrupt government will only corrupt the future government. Also, you assume that ‘we’ plan to control it. That couldn’t be farther from the truth. Once M.O.D. has accomplished its goal, it will cease to exist — at least in any noticeable capacity other than a watchdog group. We do not plan to make any of us president, or even congressmen or senators, we wish only to return this country to the people, as stated so clearly in the phrase ‘of the people.’ Although many members may certainly decide to run for office, mostly, we wish to remain citizens of a country of which we can be proud. If you consider forcing corrupt politicians and corrupt businessmen, such as yourself, to pursue honest lives as ‘oppression’, then I suppose we will cause more oppression as you feared. We can live with that. Question is, how can you live with opposing it?”
A few other posts criticized M.O.D., claiming he was lying about not wanting power since he was ambitious enough to try to overthrow the government. So far, he had either ignored those posts or been busy replying to others. Scott decided to climb on the bandwagon.
“M.O.D. has the power he seeks. He has already started to control people and criticize the present regime for not controlling people as he would. He places himself above all others, but has no personal record to be critiqued by others. He is god in his own mind, above all, looking down and deciding what’s best for everyone.” He signed the message Scott Carver, Special Agent with the FBI.
He waited several minutes for a reply, scanning other posts and noticing M.O.D. was answering other messages at the time. Finally, he received an alert that he had a reply and clicked to check it. It was from M.O.D.
“Well good morning, Scott, it’s about time you quit reading all night and started posting. I see you are still at Sheelia’s house. How is she?”
“In some ways, you are correct in your post. I have always enjoyed criticizing, not as some sort of god complex, but as a way to seek improvement in things. I have always found it a great exercise to seek out solutions to problems. The greater the problem, the more exciting the challenge. I do not, however, seek to be above anyone. I only wish to share in the benefits of the solutions, if possible, or enjoy the satisfaction of having solved the problem. I do not look down on others who have either allowed the problem to persist or ignored it, and I do not see myself as one who is simply smarter than they. Instead, I see myself as one who took the time to try to solve the problem. You, no doubt, came up with the same solutions I did, didn’t you? The fact is, you solved the problem quicker than I. I don’t see ideas as competitions, though. I do not wish to massage my ego as you suggest. If you were to have taken action to solve this problem, I would eagerly join in under your command, Scott. But, since nobody else did take action, I did. Reluctantly, but dutifully. I have very carefully weighed the possibilities and believe revolution to be the only attainable solution at this time. If you have developed a better solution, I am certainly interested and would gladly offer any assistance I could. War is the last option, not the first.”
Scott read the message three times, trying to disagree, trying to think of another fix, but couldn’t. There had to be another solution, he thought. Finally, he formed a response. “Sheelia is fine. She’s sleeping. I’m sure she would just be thrilled that you asked about her, in a creepy sort of way.”
“It is quite arrogant of you to think that your solution is the only one, or the right one for that matter. Killing the people of this country hardly seems beneficial to it. Have you ever considered that your solution could be an even larger problem?”
Scott sat back and re-read his message. Satisfied, he sent it. A response came quickly.
“I don’t believe it is arrogant to open up for discussion this very topic, hoping for better ideas. As I stated, war is a last resort. If someone smarter than you or I comes up with a better solution, I’m all for it. I don’t want to see anyone die, especially at my command, but the fact is that all governments in history have been overturned and most of them in a violent manner, for that was the only option left to them. Please explain how my solution, which you do not fully know, is a larger problem.”
Scott quickly answered, “Having this website is simply a means to promote your dangerous ideas.”
M.O.D. countered, “Then why allow opposite views like yours, Agent Carver? If we were interested in merely attacking and killing, then we would have done that without revealing ourselves, catching the government by surprise. And if we wished a propaganda website, this forum wouldn’t be here where anyone could offer their views, ideas or even pointless insults.”
“Or mindless support? I notice you have pointed out those who tried to oppose you anonymously, but I don’t see you revealing the true identities of your supporters,” Scott accused.
“We have plainly listed as a rule for posting here that we will allow no anonymous posts and all who attempt to post anonymously will have their identity revealed. It is not my fault that those who oppose us wish to try to deceive us and others. The fact is, so far 327 posts have been made by government supporters who lied about their names and only three by our supporters, all three of which happened to be government employees who were afraid of the government finding out their true feelings. Unfortunately, we had to display their real names as well. You should do your homework before you make such claims. We hold the truth very highly here,” M.O.D. wrote.
“Don’t you think it’s hypocritical to wield such absolute control over such things?” Scott asked.
“People choose to post here, under the conditions we set to provide total honesty and no deceit. Does this government give us that same courtesy? Why are those people so afraid to speak out against the government that they had to hide their names? Why are there more than 15,000 government members, or those associated with the government, who are reading selected articles in support of us but not commenting at all? Is it because we have caused them fear of oppression, or our government has? You, yourself, have written of the overbearing reach of this government into our thoughts,” M.O.D. answered swiftly.
Scott was starting to get angry that this M.O.D. knew so much about him while he knew nothing about M.O.D. “Maybe those people didn’t feel like responding to such nonsense? I find it odd that only three spoke out against the government. And I’m not at issue here.”
M.O.D. must have been interested in Scott’s words, for he seemed to be only answering him at this time, his next message coming in seconds. “Actually, we keep excellent statistics here, Scott, and thus far, among government employees, contractors, and others who work in concert with them, 1,473 have posted favorably toward us, despite the fear that many also expressed, of backlash from their words. Only 917 have posted against us, with a large percentage of those trying to hide their identity, attempting to deceive just as their government has taught them to do. And I’m sure that the more than 60,000 former government employees who now work for us, voluntarily, shows a little more powerful statement. This personal dialogue, between us, is largely about you, because we would love to have more people like you, who agree with us, and are on our side where they belong, using their valuable talents for good.”
Scott marveled at how M.O.D. could have formed such a lengthy and statistical response so quickly, but he was more concerned with the remarks about his thoughts, which literally blew him back in his seat. “You have me at a severe disadvantage. You know so much about me, but I know nothing about you,” he wrote, knowing nothing to combat the words he just read.
“This isn’t a competition, Scott. Knowing who I am is not important. Although you probably believe it will help you catch me, it serves no productive use to our goals.”
“So you seek to remain anonymous while disallowing others to do the same?”
“Yes, for the good of our cause, I certainly do.”
“For the good of their cause, maybe some of those other people wish to remain anonymous.”
“Then they should start their own website and make their own rules and quit trying to break someone else’s.”
“As bold and powerful as you are, you are afraid of this government catching you, still?” Scott challenged.
“Yes, frankly. Although I don’t believe they can, I’m not taking any chances. Does this really surprise you, Scott? This government cheats, and it can do anything to any of us for any reason they see fit.”
“You are a criminal. You have broken their laws, which they set.”
“Even if I hadn’t, they would make up new ones or falsify evidence to convict me anyway. Although what we are doing is proscribed by the Constitution, in the name of the people, we are going to take this country back from our enemy. The greatest threat to the citizens of the United States has become its own government, so we are exercising our right to take up arms against that threat.”
“You stole billions of dollars of military equipment…”
“Which belongs to the people, not this foreign government.”
Scott was getting frustrated. This M.O.D. thought he was so righteous, it angered him. And he had a job to do. “OK, if you can’t tell me who you are, can you tell me something about yourself?” he finally asked.
“So you can try to find out who I am and catch me? Always the focused and determined agent, Scott?”
“Maybe so I can try to understand you better, too,” he answered honestly.
“I think you know me quite well, Scott. Why don’t you tell me what you think you’ve figured out so far?” M.O.D. challenged him this time.
Scott thought there was a chance to use his ego against him, so he carefully constructed a basic profile of M.O.D., and then casually presented it. “All I’ve gathered so far is you’re a male, early forties, been sitting in front of your computer since you were about ten years old, and you’ve never been out in the real world long enough to do anything but theorize what it’s like. I doubt you’ve ever even had a girlfriend and you slacked your way through school to avoid notice.” Scott decided his words were just harsh enough to spark a reaction, and sent the message.
“That’s why we need more people like you and I, Scott, we’re very perceptive, but not always perfect. I am in my early 40’s and a man, and I have certainly logged my share of time in front of my computer since the age of eight. But I have definitely been out in the real world, Scott, working full-time for over 20 years. I admit I had a rough time getting dates as a kid, but I was happily married for nine years and have four children – 13- and eleven-year-old boys and a set of twin nine-year-old girls,” M.O.D. divulged.
Wow, Scott thought, he gave away some info! “That’s quite interesting. So what caused you to turn against the government?” he asked, as he wrote down the ages of the kids and the length of his marriage.
“You overestimate my desire for secrecy, Scott. If you search hard enough, you can find my name, but that won’t tell you where I am. If you insist on digging though, I won’t hold back any background information here. I guess I’ve been skeptical of this government all my life. As have you.”
Scott called Abe while waiting and reading. “Abe, I need you to search for all males in their lower 40’s meeting this criteria: four kids – 13 and eleven-year-old males and nine-year-old twin females; married roughly nine years; divorced, I would guess; extensive computer knowledge; employed continuously for the past 20 years. Stay on and I’ll try to narrow the search as you go.”
“Is this our M.O.D.?” Abe asked excitedly.
“Possibly.”
Abe acknowledged and went to work.
Scott wrote another reply, “Why don’t you just cut the games then and tell me who you are so we can get to what’s important here?”
“Why don’t you skip asking and get to what’s important? The information I gave you would narrow it down to 37 people, by the way, I’m sure your man will tell you that shortly. The twins really set it off. Then again, it could be a ruse, just to send you on another wild goose chase. Either way, you’re wasting time.”
“Scott, I’ve got 37 possible hits on that search. We could narrow it down to one easily with a single date. They are all unique…” Abe came across the speaker.
“Never mind that, Abe, try to contact them all. The one you can’t find is him.”
Scott decided quickly to take M.O.D.’s advice and focus on what he considered important. “OK, M.O.D., I’d like to have a name to call you, but I’d rather see if we can find another solution together – maybe negotiate?” he wrote.
“Wow, I made this thread private a while ago in anticipation that you would keep going until you found my identity. I hardly think you have the authority to negotiate on behalf of the United States, and they don’t negotiate with so-called terrorists anyway.”
“I can at least try to inform the President,” Scott offered, but as soon as he sent the message, he knew M.O.D. was right.
“We don’t want to negotiate with them either – they have to be replaced.”
Scott continued to chat with M.O.D. for an hour, occasionally gaining more clues to who he was, but not concerning himself with it anymore. He learned that M.O.D. had used the handle “Inspector” in the early 80’s, while part of the original M.O.D., very involved in the hacking community – breaking into government computers for fun, stealing secrets, copying video games and so forth. He wrote software for Internet companies, including infrastructure-building networking giants like Cisco, 3Com, and Nortel during the 90’s, and many security programs for the world’s largest banks. Scott was absolutely certain this information would lead directly to a name, but he didn’t bother with it. He was enjoying the conversation too much. At the conclusion, he said, “You know you gave me enough info to find your name, right?”
“Yes,” M.O.D. replied easily, then he added, “But I don’t believe you will use it.”
“It wouldn’t tell me where you are anyway,” Scott agreed, then added, “But I’m gonna find it anyway so I can call you by a proper name.”
“Very well, then, you can call me Eric.”
“OK, Eric, I’m going to bed.”
They signed off and Scott called Abe again. “Abe, the list was a ruse, throw it all out.”
“I was just about to call you. We’ve found everyone on that list but one, an Eric Williams…”
“Eric Williams was created by him, but send me the info anyway. Sorry man.”
“No prob. This dude is slick, but I’ll keep trying,” Abe said, then hung up.
Scott took the time to set up the bed, then checked his e-mail and read Eric’s file quickly. Eric Williams was 41 years old, born in Greensboro, NC. He graduated high school with a mediocre 2.1 GPA, but won the state math and science fairs – a typical underachiever. In college, however, he breezed through with perfect grades in three years and landed a job with Siemens, but quickly began contracting his work out to all takers. In 1995, he married Mary Ann Toth, and they had their first child, John, early in 1996, followed by Matt in late 1997, and the twins, Brandy and Breanna, in the summer of 1999.
In April 2004, Mary Ann was killed while on assignment for the… “I see now, Eric,” he whispered. Mary Ann had worked for the CIA. Her file showed she wasn’t a spy or anything so glamorous, but she was researching for them in London when she was abducted, tortured and subsequently executed by a terrorist group who wanted revenge for clandestine attacks by the CIA in Pakistan. He shut off the computer and crawled into bed, mulling over the information.
