Posted: 6/20/2012 10:12:29 AM EDT
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This is a work of fiction using some real personalities and organization. Personalities may seem familiar but only for references and not based on fact nor any wish of ill will. This is meant to illustrate how threats are born and can be fostered to violent action. It is not a prediction nor is it meant to be any advocacy for violence against any group. There will be some technical speak at times for the sake of acknowledging brands and giving the reader a point of reference to search for themselves. There is no financial interest to any brand mentioned in this story.
Pressure Switch. A type of ignition device for victim initiated improvised explosive devices. Cheap, simple... effective. Prologue: The plan was to attend the rally and go home without much drama. However, someone had other ideas. The state of Georgia had long ago lifted its ban on firearms in public places and that mean people like Alan could carry his SIG P228 without repercussion. The trusty 9mm felt like the heaviest hammer in the world now as he was on his last 15 round magazine. The slammed it in, smooth and quick. Looking down at the black pistol he took a deep breathe and peeked over the counter of a corner Starbucks. Coffee cups, straws, beans, and bodies now were strewn in the lobby of the popular coffee chain. He was sure that none of them were as a result of his bullets but certainly his presence made their deaths a certainty. Looking back at it now he had a hard time thinking about how he got here. But in retrospect it was not that hard... Fall of 2012 The election was weeks away and a new war was kicking off in Syria this time with Congressional approval, unlike Libya, and openly supporting the Syrian rebels who were attacking the regime of Bashir al-Assad. Most Americans listened to the justification- the people needed help, national interest, Israel... but Alan only cared about one: revenge. Syria had been complicit in the near decade long Iraq war and caused possibly thousand of dead Americans. Al-Assad had been the head of that government and deserved every bit of hate and discontent raining down on his head now. But the anti-war crowd did not see it that way. They protested as usual. Blood for oil... yadda yadda yadda. There were not ground troops but Special Forces ODAs who were assisting the rebels and coordinating air strikes, similar to the invasion of Afghanistan in 2001. Alan also saw a strategic point in the war... eliminating a threat to Israel would allow for the ally to ease its breathe a bit and focus on Egypt which and crawled ever so close to another 1979 Islamic Revolution with the Muslim Brotherhood's summer victories in the elections. All that was the backdrop for this rally. The war had gone well and the good guys were kicking ass. The good guys being a relative term as the West was not sure what they were getting in the Free Syrian Army. Surely some of those men had been jihadists in Iraq killing members of the coalition that took down Saddam Hussein. These men who answered the call from Al Qaeda to rally to Iraq and attack the infidel west. Now they were calling air strikes from B-52s and having chai with some bearded Special Forces teams. War makes strange bed fellows. The anti-war rally was set to begin in minutes and was part of a national movement that seemed to draw out so many of society's political left. The men and women of the Atlanta Police Department were ready for trouble and lined a section of the city with their riot gear and trucks. Alan had gone to introduce himself to a few of them and let them know that he was not apart of the crowd but here to photograph them. Alan ran a small weblog and did the usual stuff that a conservative activist had gotten into shortly before the 2008 elections. After the death of Andrew Breitbart he took it pretty much to heart and signed up as a part time contributor to a few sites. His pieces were nothing special but he had gotten a few requests to syndicate his pieces. He had made a badge that said “PRESS” and wore it like the others. He took one from another rally he attended and just copied it to look official enough. He did it to coax the protestors to talk to him more and not so much as a preventive measure from a beat down should that occur. The badge was handy as all the protestors wanted to show how smart they were. He carried a Flip Cam, iPhone, and a Canon DSLR to record the event. Signs comparing the President to Hitler, signs of disappointment, chants... it was all predictable really. He saw members of what had become known as the “Black Bloc”. With the invention of the Occupy Wall Street, known as “Occupiers”, in 2011 this group of anarchist had gotten bigger. The reelection of Governor Scott Walker, purging of voter rolls in Florida, more states passing right to work laws, and the general view that these people would have “no say in the future” lead the Black Bloc to grow in popularity with the Occupy crowd. The politicians who flocked to the Occupy crowd in 2011 fed on this and thought they could control it. But like any wildfire, you just don't know where its going to go. So many had backtracked and apologized as the Bloc grew in both rhetoric and violence. Previous rallies across the country had showed that these people, kids in some cases, were capable of some horrendous crimes. Mainly arson and firebombing but in a few cases there were planned terrorist attacks on infrastructure. Thankfully those had been broken up by law enforcement but one was bound to succeed. And that's why I'm here hiding behind a low fat latte, Alan thought darkly. Figurative of course, the latte was now spilling over the counter. The Bloc had inserted themselves at the front and center of a massive 7,000 person crowd that gathered in Centennial Olympic Park. The idea was to march through Georgia State University and then to the capital building. This meant a lot of people in crowded downtown streets on a weekend. Permits were obtained and all the right things to do this were done by the orchestrators. What they did not count on were the Bloc caching Molotov cocktails, Ak-47s, and a few pipe bombs in some basements. The rally had been advertised for weeks: National Anti-War Rally and the routes were well known. So it took nothing for these small bands of misfits who had become increasingly radicalized over the year to find low rent apartments and in some cases just take them. The problem was not just in Atlanta but it was national. Disaffected youth with little prospects of a successful career were looking at the bleak economic forecast and decided it was time to act. It started on Twitter really... the organizing that is. Then email and ultimately when they were comfortable the groups that were already established as part of the professional protest circuit invited in the lost souls. A few were busted by local police and the FBI well in advance of the rallies but they were the ones with no operational security. When Alan last looked at his Twitter feed he had counted the cities under attack at 12: New York, Los Angeles, Chicago, and Washington, D.C were the usual suspects. But he saw places like St. Lake, Oakland, Seattle, and Tampa which indicated that it was likely much wider than just what he saw online. That was over four hours ago and the cell network was long gone by now. The only thing working were smoke signals. Land lines were jammed as this nation-wide coordinated attack took place at once. He was fortunate to catch it all on his DSLR as he filmed from inside the crowd. It was recording video when he caught the Bloc lighting several Molotov cocktails and unzipping black gym bags. The familiar stock of the Ak-47 surprised him but when they turned outward and began firing single shots into the buildings is when he got scared. The APD was slow to react because of the same shock and he knew his simple “PRESS” badge was not going to get him any special treatment... he was going to get his ass kicked like the rest. But they fired on the police as well. Killing many in one volley, not that it took much skill. The shots were from less than 100 meters and the Ak was forgiving rifle. His SIG felt comforting at that point and he slowly crept backwards from the crowd as it surged in all directions knocking over hundreds. Then the cross fire began and the APD had regained its senses and realized they had an armed insurrection on their hands. But as the LAPD found out automatic and semi-automatic rifles will win the day against a hand gun. The Bloc consisted of only about 20 members, some women, but mostly men. They had managed to kill numerous officers in the early minutes of the attack but that was the point it seemed... they were committed to martyrdom as they began taking positions around the park. And Alan had it all on film. He kept filming and left his instincts behind as they told him to grab the SIG and run. But he knew he needed to get it on tape and in full HD glory. He heard the Bloc yell that Alan had taped them and they were going to have to get him. Then he knew he was in trouble. That was when he stopped filming and ran. He stuffed the DSLR into the Maxpedition Versipak and reached in for his SIG. Round already chambered he found a flower bed that acted as an anti-vehicle blockade and darted for it. He slid around the back of it and calmed himself before he thought next. He reached and grabbed his Flip Cam and set it up on top of the barricade so it could see the Bloc members, three of them, running across the blood soaked grass of the park. A woman in tie-dye lay five feet from him and he had not even noticed until now that the Bloc had also opened up on those in front of them in random fashion. They might have been trying to provoke a response or attempt some kind of claim of self defense but these killers were not looking for that... they were looking for blood. He peeked from under the thick three foot high flower pot and remembered his Army training. But he was on his weak side and the shot he was going to take was just going to piss off the gunmen/women. So far as he could tell he was well over 100 meters from them and they were not moving very fast as they were also dodging the police return fire. He had some time. He collected his thoughts and let the camera record. More shots came his way as he steadied his nerves. Combat in Iraq and Afghanistan was one thing but he was about to lay waste to what he believed were Americans. But anyone pointing a gun at you was the enemy, even if you just has tea with them as his team leader used to say. Alan leaned against the barricade and propped his left leg up with his foot on the ground and his right knee on the ground. He distanced himself from the concrete by about an arm's length. Hearing the sonic whip of the bullets flying over head at sporadic bursts here pressed checked for a round. Cocking the hammer back and pulling the slide he saw the brass and let the slide go back into place. This time he did not decock the SIG but leaned out slightly to see the three approaching. They looked to be about forty meters from him and he felt confident... Arms flexed, right hand cupping around the left on the grip he leaned again and let the front sight lay down and flush with the rear sight. A pause in breathing and he let the 9mm loose with another and another. “F&#$er!!!”, was all he heard as he quickly went back to the safety of the flower pot. He must of of hit the tall one, as it was the first one he saw and the one he ID'd from the first look. A maelstrom of bullets slapped the pot as they charged at him then realized they were empty. He heard them fumble in their pockets for more magazines and realized this was his chance. With his left hand he grasped the camera and ran... ran as fast as he could for anything he saw. He ran straight till he realized that was stupid and then started a sporadic zig-zag pattern on the open field. It was uphill towards the CNN Center as he felt naked now and dove for the ground and used a small hill that had a walk way on the other side for cover. Think small.... No rounds? A quick peak confirmed he had gone quite a distance and they were still messing with the magazines. In a slight pushup he looked behind him and saw the Starbucks and the door was propped open from earlier in the day. That would be his strong hold. He saw a Subway and other places that would be better suited but they were too far away and their doors might be locked by now as many businesses had shut down for the rally. Go...go... go!!!! His mind screamed at him and he sprinted. Faster it felt like as his heart was pounding and and he continued his erratic pattern. As he reached the street he heard the Ak-47s again but was moments from the door. He was inside as they continued firing and the first rounds created spider webs along the tint that was put up to fight the Georgia sun. Now it gave him precious moments to hop the counter. With all the adrenaline pumping he had not noticed the people inside. There were at least a dozen who stayed in the store and now crowded around overturned tables, book stands, and the counter itself. He nearly landed on a teenage barrista who looked just 18. She had a lip piercing and he now felt guilty as sin for what was about to befall these people but he only had one priority at this point... himself. The Bloc members were shooting angrily at him for hitting one of their own. They lost a comrade and he knew how that felt but had no sympathy for them. That was when he realized the innocent people around him were going to get hurt. So he yelled as loud as he could “GET OUT!!!” Alan found his two attackers and fired the rest of his magazine at them as a means for cover for the people to move. He was not sure if any of them knew the concept of moving while covered so he just hoped for the best. The problem is that you're going to run out of bullets or take a break in suppressive fire and that gives the other force time to fire back. This they did and he took refuge behind the counter. Some had escaped to the streets but more had come to the back of the coffee shop and the counter. The attackers were less than 100 meters as he looked up and saw the woman laying there, blood pooling around her chest. The Bloc members seemed to notice as they realized they killed an innocent woman and took time to reflect on what it would mean...They must have the camera man now and kill all inside the shop, witnesses of this were not permitted. Alan nor the Starbucks crowd knew it but the attackers had gone off script a long time ago when they began following Alan. Their absence from the main force created a gap that allowed the Atlanta SWAT to mop up the remaining BLOC in Olympic Park. Alan heard sirens all over but listened closely and could tell there was a lull. The two attackers must of moved closer and hid somewhere... other buildings. He looked at his watched, two hours passed and he was still in the Starbucks. More firing went on as SWAT and Bloc traded volleys. Amazing enough the WiFi worked and someone had their iPad up checking a live stream from CNN of downtown Atlanta. Alan made out the park and saw that the SWAT boys were running into buildings now... this would take a while. Centennial Olympic Park was surrounded by high rises of all sizes with hundreds of rooms. They would need to clear them all. Humvees and LMTVs now lined the streets in what he recognized as an outer cordon. Members of the National Guard had been called out and blocked off the center of the city. Flashes of the other cities showed similar scenes. LA was on fire and DC was already over as the Bloc had been mostly taken out by Secret Service as they attempted to climb the White House fence after breaching initially with bicycle laden with explosives. LA was the result of Black Bloc, La Raza, and other separatist groups seeing this as an opportunity to make a stand. The media could not cover this up it seemed but they tried... the scenes never once mentioned the anti-war crowd or the Black Bloc... just that there were masked gunmen shooting up American cities. Of course some tried to tie to the involvement with Syria but no one really stood up to post the truth. Someone got his attention as they shouted “hey” and pointed. One attacker was in the adjacent building about 30 meters away. He stood at a doorway and fired into the Starbucks, a full clip removed the window all together and showered the lobby in shards. Alan heard the click and stood to fire and all but emptied his second clip at the man. He heard him scream and knew he ahd been hit but no confirmation on the type of casualty inflicted. Now it was beyond survival as he had involved what looked like dozens of people in his own battle with the Bloc. He felt guilty but they realized that their fates were tied together- Alan was their protector. He gave the girl with the iPad his DSLR and camera and wrote down his Twitter and YouTube username and password. “Take this, upload the photos and videos... all of them. In every thing you put up say 'Black Bloc, Atlanta, anti-war rally, rifles' just keep posting until we get out of here ok?” The girl, being given a task seemed grateful. She turned to what must have been her boyfriend who began loading the videos onto the desktop. The Bloc member leered out from the doorway with a bloody rag wrapped around the Kalishnikov and took aim. Alan stood taller behind the counter and let the last six rounds from his second magazine fly. He had known long before that you spend far more ammo in a fight than you think but he did not think he would need ammo today. He had water, snack bars, and a small first aid kit in the Versipak but only one extra magazine. He reloaded quickly and surveyed the scene... |
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This chapter sets the stage for the acts to come...
Chapter 1 The election had gone with minimal disruptions since the day now known by the hypermedia as “Attack of the Bloc”. It singularly tied groups to a common cause and made them a target in the eyes of the American people. One to be dealt with, no matter how small they were. In true government fashion there was the expected closing of the barn door after the horses escaped. Cities were restricting any political rallies except those tied directly to the two candidates. No more anti-war rallies, least until the “crisis blows over” and most law enforcement agencies openly admitted to having their eyes out for young, economically depressed males who may be targets of recruitment for the Black Bloc. What few in local governments looked at was the reality of the threat. Small town America was not at risk... it was the massive urban sprawl and associated middle class subdivisions that were most at risk. These bastions of capitalism and government sponsored/subsidized housing clashed in 30 minute drive increments and were where the differences in American lifestyles clashed. On election day there were few riots and mostly from disaffected kids who were pissed their guy did not win, never mind that they could not vote themselves. The sitting President had lost because despite the war in Syria and all that had seemed to go right during his term the economy still drove people to the polls. That secured it for the other candidate in a nutshell. The lame duck session had been uneventful and there were daily reports on how the war in Syria would continue, maybe even pick up once the new guy gets in. That's what really drove the Occupy crowd into a frenzy. Not only had their preferred candidate lost but a rich, “war monger” had won and was going to continue the same old same old. The Black Bloc grew.... The FBI had maintained a database on such activities since the FBI was created. It had tracked radicals of both political spectrums since its creation. With the invention of the Department of Homeland Security they had another avenue to give information to. So the FBI and DHS began local meetings with their respective law enforcement agencies. Much of these connections had already been in place from the halcyon days of the Joint Terrorism Task Force. All they were doing now as pivoting to a new target: domestic terrorism. That meant the military took a step back but was not entirely out of the picture. “Travis, are you going to the 1400 sync meeting?” Asked FBI Special Agent Justin Carnes. “I didn't want to, but the chief is making me since he doesn't want to. What's up?” Travis Diaz, a 15 year Army intelligence veteran had begged for a JTTF assignment and gotten one... in Dallas. It was unexpected because he was already living near D.C and hoped to stay in the area but here he was in Texas. Home again. “We got wind of something your people may be interested in. I can't give you details but I'm glad your going and not your boss, he's a dick,” Carnes was blunt for an FBI agent. The story was he grew up as a cop on the streets of LA and got tired of the same thing. Young and eager he tackled a business management degree while on the job and applied to the Bureau. The two were not that much different but Diaz had spent a career in the Army and various special operations assignments that gave him a unique perspective on things. Mainly that the world was a fucked up place to be and the best results came when people worked together to make those screw it up disappear. The meeting came and went uneventful as usual. These syncronization meetings were weekly and usually drab since the change to domestic issues. He was there only as a courtesy since by military policy and executive order he could not legally retain the information gathered about US persons. That alone was a loose category that covered everyone from student visa holders to American citizens. Then it also included business, companies, and any associated telephone numbers or email addresses. Basically if it could be assumed that the brand “America” touched it... he could not “collect, retain, nor disseminate”. The same thing happened before 9/11... except now he was just there to listen. He was too dumb in his own mind to remember things not written down- at least that was his official response. “Ok,” said the FBI analyst “onto the main event. What we picked up today was a phone number from a confidential informant inside a local cell in Tampa. This cell phone lead us to another number operating in Miami that lead to Havana. Stay with me here cause this is the tricky part. We thought at first it was the Tampa Occupy crowd asking for that “Cuban” park in Tampa again. But the number was to the Venezuelan front that we know works for Servicio Bolivariano de Inteligencia Nacional. As you know this gem is actively talking to several drug cartels and terrorist organizations in the region and back in the Mid East...” Diaz listened to the briefer and began flipping through his mental rolodex of names to start calling. First was one to an office in Tampa itself, albeit miles removed from the nuts in the Occupy crowd. Later that day Diaz got off the phone with his CENTCOM buddies and they began processing the request. He briefed up his chief who was absentminded as usual and then went to the JTTF-Dallas director's office himself. The FBI man was far senior to Carnes but was the point man to keep in the loop on these things and this is what Diaz was supposed to do. He let him know that CENTCOM will track down the leads and that they already looked promising. Also, another element from Diaz's darker days, wanted to know if the FBI was planning on anything if they got the green light... meaning to take down the cell. The director did not know yet and something of this nature would be handled out of D.C more than likely. While Travis Diaz waited in Dallas men in Mexico City were digging up boxes. Green, silver, black, a few brown but all in all they were boxes. Air tight and locked under pressure. They had ID cards with Mexican citizenship and drivers licenses but their trucks were American. They were neither. Venezuela had been playing a dangerous game over the years and even after the strong man began to lose out to cancer they were committed. The people in Havana were not just a front but a whole sale distributer of pain and misery. From targeting Cuban dissidents and helping the Castros hold their island to facilitating drugs moving into southern Florida, the Havana office was a one stop shop for support from Caracas. The head of the office took it on himself to see an opening and called a man in Beirut and from there the trail that the FBI analyst in Dallas briefed went cold. But the man in Beirut contacted another cutout with a single word: jayesh. It meant sword in Arabic and the man knew what to do. They made the appropriate calls and got the approval from their masters. There as only a call back to Miami to let them know their request had been received and that they would have an answer shortly. Hence the men in Mexico City digging up boxes and loading them into American made tractor trailers. They loaded six trucks with a dozen or so cases and headed north in different directions. Some would travel towards Tijuana and others to Brownsville. The drivers had their destinations in mind and would have to rely on the conditions at the border to allow them in. Alan Williams, photog..., blogger..., Army veteran... national gun rights advocate? Who knew. He had no planned on it but since the Attack of the Bloc he took on a new role, albeit uncomfortable at first, to advocate carrying a firearm. A largely sympathetic media played up his role as a hero even if they did not mention the political affiliation of the attackers. It seemed strange that he had to remind people who was shooting at him. The attack in Atlanta had been one of the most successful attacks largely because of the lack of police presence from the start. The attacks were a success in their own right of course. They succeeded. The group got attention. Occupy got more television time even if it meant they were disavowing the Black Bloc. They managed to turn a national tragedy into a talking point. Alan saw it as his turn to try to push back. It had been months since that day and he'd recovered from minor wounds and restocked his spent 9mm. More money coming in meant he could afford more and so he did... he bought two more rifles and another pistol along with money for a home in country near Augusta, Georgia. He liked the area enough having spent a few years there while in the Army. He wanted to go back home to Texas but it was just as easy to stay there. It meant a drive to Atlanta to do television appearances but they usually paid for themselves in speaking engagements that would follow later on. He wasn't greedy with his fees, just enough to earn a profit for his now “expert” opinion. He was asked often enough if he was going to get a body guard but then he confidently stated no. No need to involve someone else in his choice to defend himself and eventually others. Besides, he'd have to pay the guy and that would be too expensive for a part time pundit. His full time job was also more sporadic but business was picking up. Since leaving the Army he made a living as a security consultant specializing in “information assurance and physical security”. Bland terms that that were buzz words for the city governments and private firms that knew what they meant. Now he was chatting to a friend in Texas about some concerns he had about his safety. Travis Diaz and he had been friends for as long as they knew of one another. Running into each other at various times through their Army careers they eventually served in the same unit and on the same team in Afghanistan. It was there that their bond had been made in blood. Travis saved his life and Alan his on a few occasions that won't find their way onto a DA 638 or Fox News “War Stories” highlight film. Being in the intelligence field meant that their acts were either glossed over or forgotten about since it mean potentially exposing a sensitive operation. Not that they mind... except that they went back to the regular Army after their last tour and that was when Alan left and Travis stayed. Alan had enough of the typical day to day Army and wanted to at least do something worthwhile without half of the political BS. Travis got out of his assignment and found his way to the JTTF as an analyst even though they were both in the collection function of the field. But he was good at it. “So what we're talking about are some players from overseas who want to take advantage of this movement, the one you happen to shoot up amigo,” Travis mentioned via FaceTime. Apple had just come out with it on the 4G service plans and made using an iPhone so much more... eh. “Ok, what do you want from me?” Alan inquired. “Well, you're the flavor of the year so my boss wants an assessment. You've done more writing on them since the attacks. How about a taxpayer funded expedition to Dallas?” Travis all but demanded. “Sure... I can do it but I'm no expert on domestic-” “Don't give me that shit,” Travis cut him off, “you know as much as I do that these people are more 'globally' oriented than that. They're Americans in name and citizenship only. We don't need a lecture on EO 12333... just your assessment and opinion.” “Alright, alright, alright. When do you want me there?” Alan relented to his persistent friend. “Well, they want something now and instead of going to the FBI to get some D.C asshole to fly out I started calling you soo... how soon can you get to Atlanta?” Travis left hanging. With that Alan went him and packed his bags. As usual he traveled “light” and that meant little clothing but took all his electronics and packed two more checked bags and paid the extra fee for the heavier one. He was going to Texas and he'd be damned if he was not going to take his own guns out for a safari style shoot while there. Since the government was using taxpayer dollars to fund this excursion he'd justify his expense on his tax returns. The men in Mexico stopped short of crossing the border and waited in their respective towns the night before crossing. No meetings or difficulties but they had to listen to the radio or television. If there was an order to delay their travel they were told to listen for word of emergency talks in Baghdad about some Kurdish separatist movement. A minor signal that gave nothing away to their leadership that sat in comfortable homes further east. They heard nothing that night and waited. Unbeknownst to them the Syrian War had done more to push this along than they thought. The Americans and the rest of the West wanted Al-Assad to fall so much and he had. But without a permanent presence they did not witness the rise of a Hezbollah tied political party. Egypt and Syria entered into a pact of mutual friendship much like the one that existed prior to the last major Arab/Israeli War. With the decade long wars in Iraq and Afghanistan and the interventions in Libya and Syria... the twisted mullahs had a way to manipulate the West- from within. The occupy movement was genuine. Disdain of the economic situation and an entitled mentality lead to the movement. Government overspending was continuing and Europe was still on the brink. All they needed was a slight push. The mullahs would provide it and they already had. Through agents acting on their behalf, banks in Europe started buying more debt and selling it off to the Chinese and Indians. The left leaning Europeans would not bother to notice that their debt was no longer in the hands of solvent European banks. But a lot changed when Turkey invaded Syria outright but with the backing of NATO. Al-Assad had been close to falling and Turkey had had enough of his army attacking theirs and killing refugees. The Turks were seen as liberators in Damascus and there was a peace for a time. But Turkey pulled out after the regime fell and wanted no part in occupation but it had secretly funneled weapons to the KDP in northern Iraq. The agreement was simple: counter any anti-Turkish action in Syria and Iraq and we won't kill your people. An alliance of sorts from the same that had existed through out the world's history. So while Damascus could do what it want towards Jordan, Israel, even Lebanon it was limited to the central and southern portions of Syria. For all intents and purpose northern and northeastern Syria belonged to an independent Kurdish province that saw no borders between it and Iraq nor Iran. That was where the problem had been all along. The mullahs in Tehran had an internal problem and now with a powerful Kurdish minority that it could no longer manipulate against Saddam Hussein or Turkey it was concerned. It needed to shore up internal politics and that meant an outside enemy. It had too good of a diplomatic relationship with Iraq to try anything there and Afghanistan was not big enough. Europe however... That's where the anti-austerity/occupy movements allowed an in for their men. The Ministry of Intelligence and Security, or MOIS, was Iran's “civilian” spies. It had men of influence who welded brief cases with Euros and Dollars to recruit Arab, Persian, and any banker willing to hold the funds for a specific purpose. They were set up with brokerage accounts that had spent minor amounts of money and turned a profit as any legitimate investor would want. The bankers were left to grow the funds as they saw fit but when the time came they were to be given an order to purchase European debt, focusing on the most vulnerable of nations. Spain, Greece, Portugal, and to a lesser extent Italy and France were the key targets. Now, in mid-January as the winter was just getting started and heating oil's cost was going up the economies of those old European countries would suffer a heat stroke. A economic weapon was more subversive and secretive than the missiles in the fields around Qom or the Persian Gulf. But those had a purpose too... Inauguration day came and went without a hitch. No attacks from the Black Bloc or any other group despite numerous threats to the contrary. The new President did not wait to begin work and had rescinded several policies from the previous administration. Immigration, domestic spending, budgeting priorities, counter-terrorism strategy, defense posture, and religious freedoms all took a step “backward” as the press would say. The protests went up. Austerity had harmed Europe and would cause more harm in America. A new budget was already proposed and with single party rule in all branches of government passed quickly. The budget was a minor decrease in overall spending but the Congress spun it as a “start”. But this did not satisfy the radical left and unemployed who had enjoyed nearly four years of unemployment checks. They took to the Internet and streets. They found allies in the moderate politicos who sought power they had lost in previous elections and wanted to ride what they saw was the winning ticket once again: the public dole. A protest was planned to take place on March 1st. This time they wanted the Washington Mall and would “Occupy The Mall”. Warnings went out to the Black Bloc to stay away for the sake of peace and ensuring that the people's message was heard. Rumors of a million people in the march, bigger than that tea party rally in 2010... so much bigger the websites championed. But the unions knew that word on the Internet was one thing and action was another. So a bussing plan went into affect. They would build up to the protest and make smaller rallies along the way across the nation. From California they brought the immigration crowd and in the Rust Belt were the union workers of plants long shut down. This would be their “tea party moment” one former advisor to the previous President stated. That man now appeared next to Alan on the screen in what was billed as a battle of movements. Alan had taken on a life not his own. His popularity continued to grow even weeks after his briefing to the JTTF-Dallas he had taken on the federal government as a client. He had advised Homeland Security on the threat and been given a clearance once again. He saw what they saw and it scared him. He could see the ties being made and the handshakes between the professional protest movement and unknown players in Europe and the Middle East. “You're just a mouth piece for the administration!” shouted his political foe- no enemy, he gave up on such nice terms now but Alan bit his tongue, “Everyone knows you regularly visit the FBI and DHS so who else are you speaking for? Not yourself.” “I do visit with the FBI and DHS. But you forgot I also meet with the Defense Department, Department of Energy, and the Sheriff of Columbia County, Georgia. We have coffee together every now and then.” Alan was done playing with the bald, bi-speckled man who was bounced out of the previous White House, “But none of them accused President Bush of allowing 9/11 to happen or causing it to happen”. A direct charge to the “truther” on the screen in front of him. The moderator tried to regain order but the bald man kept shouting about how his march and movement was going to dwarf the tea party. The moderator countered with facts and his own opinion but the just devolved into a two sided debate between those two while Alan just sat back. He smiled at the bright light in his face and wondered what connections his enemy on the screen had to the groups he been briefed on. He was American though and that meant there were certain things that could be checked and others that could not- at least through government channels. Alan was not without friends with powerful computers and would start that process... now. Alan broke out his iPhone and began a text message, live on the air, to his black hat friend who built terrabyte sized servers for fun. A simple emoticon that mean “wink” was replied. By the time the shouting match between the bald man and moderator was over he had an answer: Ask about “Project Zahhak”. The result was TV gold but worrisome. The bald man's mouth dropped and he shrieked a bit as if he was caught stealing a cookie and then ripped off his microphone and stepped on it and stormed out. Another text with a link to a secure email was sent to him. The moderator asked him what that was about and Alan just replied that it looked as if this “friend” did not want to answer what his role in a foreign borne plot was. They went back and forth for a bit as the moderator tried to get Alan to reveal his source, insinuating it was someone in the government. Alan just smiled and said he'd have to ask them but no that was not his source. Commercial break. His friend as part of his security firm and did this usually against companies to provide them some improved security methods. He was still technically a black hat since he was malicious to a degree... including jihaidist websites. He shut down an Al Qaeda message board once and that caused the FBI to go into a frenzy because they were actively monitoring it as part of an investigation. The days of needing a massive organization to manipulate the globe was over... you just needed a geek. His geeky friend's email was informative and gave him more to dig into and dispatch a few investigators to look into. He would take it to a friend in DHS and share it at the National Counter Terrorism Center. He would rather they have it, if they did not already, than hold on it to score points with on the talk show circuit. The bald man called a number that had been linked to a terrorist cell in London. Which caused an analyst at the NSA to wake up. She listened to the man in London, who they assessed as a foreigner but spoke fluent English, either way he wasn't American. But the guy on the other end was. She noted the number and typed in a code that identified the number as belonging to a US person. She still listened since it was not his phone she cared about. Anytime this London's man number came up they were on the box listening. He used it sporadically and it had originally been found in on another man's phone in Afghanistan. The web of phone networks and cell towers was amazing but ultimately they discovered the number belonged to an Iranian or at least they thought he was Iranian, working in Bandar Abbas. He traveled a lot to Dubai, Bahrain, Riyadh, Muscat, and Kuwait City on a monthly rotation. Until he or the number found its way in London, just operating off their network. “I'm out! You said no one would know! You said our connection to you would be safe! Someone found out and I just got asked on national live television!” Baldy shouted as he stormed down a St. Louis street. “Calm down. We're still supporting your movement with our money and you only need to proceed as you wish. We brought you into the project because we see the people's struggle in America as the same as ours in Europe. We are brothers... you must continue,” Mystery Man said. The analyst was chatting with her boss via a secure chat room and notified him that this was an American and a European or someone chatting live about “movements”. Such open air talk was rare for terrorists but not for inexperienced spies or people operating in the clear because they thought no one was listening. “We have to take a pause now. We have two weeks to go till the rally and your project got exposed. We're supposed to hit them at the same time! Now, some how you are out there and the news will start snooping around,” Baldy said. The analyst noted that “hit them”. Such an odd word for a “people's movement”. Was it literal? “You need to calm down. I will message you in the morning, go have a drink and we'll talk later,” Mystery Man hung up. The analyst was now talking to an FBI analyst via the same chat room and pushed the transcript to that person's desktop. By morning they'd be up on the American's phone thanks to a FISA warrant and the PATRIOT Act. Two weeks later... The National Mall was congested with thousands of people, banners, megaphones, tents, and animals. All that meant a massive clean up effort would take place soon as this was over. The speakers were predictable: Free Mumia, Workers Rights, Union Rights, Gay Rights... You name it the special interest group had a rep that was speaking in front of nearly a million people. They had gotten close and largely from bussing people in at the barrel of a paycheck. The paid professional protestors were as dedicated as the most asserted grassroot activist. The bald man took the stage. He had long calmed down from this tirade on the phone to Mystery Man but the time on the phone was enough to get an investigation going. Take down teams were standing by at remote locations throughout Northern Virginia and Maryland. FBI and NSA analysts had learned that there was a code of sorts embedded in the bald man's speech and he did not even know it. He was literally being a mouth piece for whomever Mystery Man worked for. They had ideas but time had run out and it, whatever “it” was, was going to go down today. The secure voice over IP phone range at the NCTC. “Richards. Yeah. Ok... when? How many? Black? Hispanic? You think white? Vehicle... “ Richards hung up and immediately dialed another number. Arlington, VA “We strike to take back the people's movement... these pussies don't know what to do, but we do,” the man who went by Neo Jones. Yeah he stole the moniker from The Matrix but it was he who had gathered all these various groups together for a coordinated strike. And a strike it would be. The rich, the one percent, the proliteriat had changed names and ethnicities over the decades but they really remained the same. No big conspiracy just a bunch of rich fat cats who were entitled to their wealth and felt they did not need to share to support their fellow man. This was about humanity, not a single man. Neo Jones did not know it but his strike was going to be the result of a foreign power's most elite class. He had an agenda to push and that needed money, he was no fool. He wanted no national office but wanted to get a point across and yes, power. It got him respect, got him women, friends, and ultimately it got him weapons. The Black Bloc's earlier attack and subsequent lull was by design. He had learned about how an insurgency fades in and out when funds and political will support it. With the media he had to be careful because they could show his work but also demonize him and that would harm him. He needed the people, the poor people mainly in order to lead this movement and move it forward. He had read up on Hitler, Stalin, Kennedy, Obama, and Ghandi. The difference was he had no intentions on being peaceful anymore but those men gave him lessons on persona and developing the cult around it. He had a hidden following and it grew with each day that some college drop out realized their commercialized degree was not going to get them a job. He had youth and money from donors. Overseas and domestic sources came forward, most from Europe and China. He had connected early on through the Internet via some Internet backroad to dissidents in China and Europe. They were saying what he was saying, championing his causes in their own countries. He watched the news, namely BBC- no Fox or CNN or any other because they were too bought out for his tastes and the BBC just read the script in front of them. The box told him that some students in Europe were sitting in various cities and protesting across Europe about austerity movements. In China he saw five minute clips of footage of some police raid on a “radical terrorist cell” over and over. He knew that the governments would only crack down on someone if they did not like what the people had to say. They had done it in America before and now he knew he had to act. That was the genesis of the first attack. Now he would initiate the second when his friend on the television spoke the magic words. |
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Seems headlines and some conjecture in some blogs have stolen my story. So to preclude any potential law suits coming my way I'm not going to continue this. But suffice to say the events in Colorado were going in a direction I was heading my novel which this forum acted as a sounding board for. So... lessons were learned in the first post I feel.
If it is revealed that this guy is infact a member of the Black Bloc, a real "organization", then you know what kind of people to be looking out for. Again, there is no proof other than one investigator reporting this and posting tenuous connections via a photographs on websites. We'll have to see. |