by Brandt Legg
“Logic . . . of course you do,” Thorne said.
“However,” Franklin continued, ignoring Thorne, “Fair and Free has little chance to succeed if it’s smothered in the ashes and blood of this brutal revolution.”
“I see those risks and consequences,” Booker said, “but if we don’t act now, the REMies, or the military, will make a move. I think we need first mover advantage.”
“Millions of deaths . . . we’re batting around these statistics like we’re talking about the stock market,” Adams said. “These are real lives. These are friends and neighbors, innocent citizens who have no idea what’s coming.”
“They have no idea because they’ve been asleep,” Thorne said. “They’ve chosen not to see.”
“They are going to die,” Adams said. “We all know you don’t care about that, but I think we need more time to see if we can find a way to do this without losing millions.”
“Don’t tell me I don’t care,” Thorne said. “I’ve been the only one, from the beginning, who’s been doing this out in the open, unlike the rest of you, who’re afraid of retaliation, assassination, or arrest. I’m going to lose people I love, too, and I love this country, and it’s going to be destroyed. But we have to act.”
“We will,” Booker said. “I’m sorry, but we have to be the first, or we can’t win.”
“Win?” Adams said. “No one will win.”
Chapter Fifty-Two
Tarka, who was in Europe shadowing one of the Rothschilds, handed her assignment off to a team of VS agents and immediately flew to New York, where she met with the Wizard and Granger. The three of them spent hours on the DarkNet and devised a plan. Her history with Booker during the Rochelle search and rescue would be critical to the success of this new mission, perhaps her most important one ever: how to form an alliance between the most wanted terrorists in the world and the president of the United States.
Later, after the Wizard personally briefed the president on the plan, Hudson called in his chief of staff.
“You win,” the president began. “We’re going to wait two more weeks on Cherry Tree.”
“Really?” Fitz asked. “Why the change of heart?”
“I think you were right about the timing. Plus, Granger needs a little more time to get Fair and Free finished.”
“I know he’s one of the smartest people in the world,” Fitz said as the two men sat in the President’s Study, “but can he really create from scratch a system not only to replace the entire world economy, but at the same time design it to survive a total collapse of the REMies’ empire?”
“Yeah,” the president said casually. “He’s actually mostly finished already, just needs to fine tune some things.”
“Well that’s great,” Fitz said. “Still, I don’t see conditions improving enough in two weeks to launch.”
“Because people still won’t want to hear it?”
“Partly.”
“Don’t worry, conditions will change,” the president said, knowing that an announcement about NorthBridge would have seismic effects. Yet, without knowing the source of the leaks, he couldn’t risk telling Fitz the details.
“Care to elaborate?”
“Not right now, but I need you ready with radical reforms. You have to be prepared to push the whole agenda in a week.”
“You just said we had two weeks.”
“Everything is fluid, and we only get one chance. Understand?”
“Not entirely.”
“But you can do it?”
“Yeah,” Fitz said, “but you’re still going to have to figure out how to get Congress on board. You can’t twist enough arms to make them move on your proposals.”
“Don’t worry, by then they’ll be desperate to follow anyone with a plan.”
Fitz gave him a strange look. “You’re leaving me out of the loop . . . why?”
“Because you’re part of the plan,” the president said. “Do you trust me?”
“Of course,” Fitz replied. “The question is, do you trust me?”
“That’s not a question at all.”
Chapter Fifty-Three
Gypsy had produced gigs of data showing all the women were lying about Hudson, but other than the former Vonner stations controlled by Schueller, the media ignored the data. Still, they got enough of it out there that the fury was dying down. Melissa had also mentioned in numerous speeches standing behind her husband, including one event where she laid it out bluntly: “Although sexual harassment and sexual assault are despicable acts, and most women making these types of accusations are genuine and to be believed, in some cases, there are other motives behind the charges. In the case of my husband, President Pound, these claims are entirely false, and the women making them are liars paid by enemies of the president.” She then named each woman and announced that they were going to be investigated by the FBI.
Lester watched the speech with disdain. He had told none of his staff, nor the sleazy private investigators he employed, what he hoped to accomplish—destroying the president’s reputation. But many of them had reported being followed in recent days. In some cases, their offices and homes had been “rifled and tossed.” The PIs had sworn it wasn’t the FBI closing in on them, it was someone far worse.
“Mafia?” Lester had asked, knowing he could probably handle that situation.
“I wish,” one of the PI’s had said. “No way, these guys could only be with one outfit—BLAXers.”
“Who the—?”
“Private corporate army,” the PI said, as if he were talking about vampires. “They don’t play.”
“What corporation?” Lester asked, sure he had heard the name ‘BLAXers’, before but couldn’t place it, and he certainly didn’t see how they could be more trouble than the FBI or mafia.
“Booker Lipton,” the man answered. “And if you’ve pissed off that guy, then we’re all screwed.”
Schueller saw less of his father, as he now had his own large staff helping to oversee billions of dollars. His three public projects – the Free Food Foundation, Zero-cost Alternative Power, and Medical Emergency Details, had each become massive multi-billion dollar foundations, which moved on their own momentum and no longer required his daily attention. Most of his time was currently focused on a number of expensive and secret anti-remit measures.
He considered his most important project to be recruiting young candidates who believed in freedom and intellectually accepted that the REMies’ empire was wrong. Along with Granger, he’d developed a comprehensive screening process. The program saw potential applicants increase dramatically after AKA Adams’ anti-REMie post.
The idea was to get honest candidates to run for different offices, from local to national. He’d already been quietly working with a number of campaigns, and was outspending REMies. Granger, in advance of the new Fair and Free system, helped develop strategies with cryptocurrencies so that in the post-empire world, elections would be publicly funded in order to eliminate a major source of corruption.
Prior to the Minton Micro attack, NorthBridge had been attracting many disenfranchised members of society who, even without understanding the dynamics of the REMie empire, knew something was wrong—so wrong they were willing to join a revolutionary movement to stop it. That was one of the reasons the REMies blamed the attack on NorthBridge, to stem the flow of members and sympathizers joining the fight against the elites. They also wanted to push back into the China tensions and punish the firm that wasn’t “playing ball.” As with everything the REMies did, there were multiple layers of reasons and hundreds more smaller considerations and ramifications, all carefully plotted and designed.
Schueller, hoping to attract those same people drawn to NorthBridge’s cause to the peaceful side of the revolt, had enlisted social media experts and speakers to make content for YouTube, PoseUp, Facebook, Pathfind, and Twitter. They produced sophisticated ads and videos offering solutions counter to what NorthBridge was offering. But the efforts were
slow compared to the numbers the terror group was attracting. As the progress continued at its frustrating pace, Schueller warmed to the idea of a collaboration with NorthBridge, something Granger had been pushing for months. When Hudson told his son that some kind of collaboration was on the table, Schueller had been relieved.
“NorthBridge is attracting a lot of people again,” the president whispered to Schueller as they stood under the stars at the Potomac estate. “Booker was able to get information out there that proved NorthBridge had nothing to do with the Minton Micro attack.” Hudson paused to point out the constellation of Orion to Schueller, as he had done hundreds of times for as far back as they both could remember.
“I listened to the recordings,” Schueller said. The audio captured a REMie ordering the attack and the false flag to make it appear NorthBridge did it, and even the hack to their site claiming responsibility. The REMie had died of an apparent brain hemorrhage the same day the evidence appeared all over the internet.
Suddenly they heard footsteps. Hudson immediately crouched, grabbing Schueller. His heart pounding, they held their breath. “Over there,” Schueller whispered, pointing to a stand of trees. Hudson caught a glimpse of a point, sighed, stood up, and muffled a laugh. It was another buck, with many points of its antler. Schueller started to hum, and then sang the chorus of a song he’d written. Hudson joined him, and together, arm in arm, they walked back to the house, singing in hushed voices under a magnificent sky. Their mood and actions belied the reality that these two men were desperately working for peace, for a vestige of what human potential is really about, for a fair and free world.
The FBI’s DIRT unit was investigating, and indictments were expected on many underlings of the man on the recording, but Hudson knew the REMies’ owned the judges and prosecutors and the case would fall apart in that rigged system and go away. Still, it was a crack in the empire, but the fact that it had been Booker who’d caused it rather than the president made the point even stronger that it was time to find common ground.
Hudson lowered his voice again. “If Tarka can pull this off, this won’t be the last crack. We’ll launch Cherry Tree with NorthBridge backing, and then . . . ”
“We don’t just get the CapStone. The whole damn pyramid comes down.”
Chapter Fifty-Four
Dranick had agreed to help General Imperia’s B-4 Committee. It had been a difficult decision, but he viewed his betrayal as an act of loyalty. Removing Hudson from office was the best way to save him from certain death. Beyond that, as a patriot, Dranick believed the best hope for the country to survive the chaos engulfing it was a strong leader with the backing of the military. That was certainly not Hudson Pound.
Dranick did get one concession in an effort to ensure that the government would be restored to a democracy as soon as was possible. General Imperia was neither surprised at his request, nor hesitant in granting it; Colonel Enapay Dranick would become the vice president as soon as the military assumed power. He took no pride in the fact that he’d be the first Navajo to hold the high office. Dranick knew history would likely vilify him as a Brutus. However, he believed he could help protect the country from remaining under military rule longer than necessary.
General Imperia had assured him that the B-4 committee, which had policies dating back to its founding that prohibited any of the members of the group’s leadership assuming the presidency, wanted civilian rule brought back as soon as the threats were neutralized and order reestablished. In addition to Dranick as VP, B-4 had selected the current Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, a well-known and popular military figure, as the next president.
In his role as Director of National Intelligence, Dranick had been organizing squads of CIA, NSA, and other intelligence agencies operatives to assist in the actual coup—now codenamed “the incident.” They had carefully selected thousands of troops within the ranks of the military, and hundreds of officers to ensure that any reluctance or resistance that might initially arise during the incident would be quickly quelled. Documents had been drafted detailing the reasons for the takeover and outlining the regulations during the military’s reign. Another report showed how a transition back to a democracy would work and what a post-military-controlled-government would look like. After the incident, the materials would be made public through controlled media outlets.
It all seemed meticulously planned; they’d thought of everything. What could go wrong? Dranick thought. Everything. He believed General Imperia and the others when they stated emphatically that this was a temporary measure. Like him, they were all patriots, and each was very uncomfortable with what they were about to do. But it had to be done.
At perhaps their final assembly before the incident began, Dranick muttered to himself, “We’re about to destroy our democracy in order to save it.” It was only his second time in the B-4 underground conference room at the Pentagon. He thought of the closed space as a dungeon, which made him feel uneasy, or at least that’s what he told himself. If pressed, he might’ve said it was the treacherous power of the men—less like authority and more like contagion—that bothered him. But even that would not have been accurate. B-4 members weren’t the issue, his own conscience was.
He’d wrestled repeatedly with the decision. Am I doing the right thing? Will Hudson ever understand? Is there . . .
“Colonel Dranick?” General Imperia’s deep, sharp voice snapped him back to attention. “Your report.”
Dranick stood, cleared his throat, and began detailing the plan. They went over it repeatedly, every aspect reviewed tirelessly, step-by-step, computer-generated, Artificial Intelligence-derived scenarios and responses. Interactive charts showed which divisions of which branch of service would act, where, and when. A separate, specialized strategy was in place to seize control of the media, including the Internet. Dranick questioned the need for strict curfews and automatic searches, but Imperia would not yield on any points.
The following day they would bring in the Secretary of Defense. They expected his cooperation. The militarization of local police forces around the nation would make their task of moving large numbers of troops around the country quickly much easier. They expected pockets of resistance, and had long-prepared tactical procedures in place to handle them. “Swift force,” General Imperia called it. “Zero tolerance for any would-be challenges. Order must be maintained to minimize casualties.”
“We must penetrate his inner circle of security,” General Imperia said, referring to the president’s hand-picked VS and Secret Service details who had so far been impenetrable. “Colonel, that’s your area. How are we coming?”
“As you know,” Dranick began, “the president, more than any of his predecessors, has taken charge of his own safety. He uses both private VS and ultra-vetted Secret Service agents. He’s rarely exposed.”
“And we do not, I repeat, we do not want to be killing US Secret Service agents.”
“Nor the president,” Dranick said.
“Of course not,” General Imperia agreed.
“I have some ideas,” Dranick said. He’d given that aspect of the coup a lot of thought. He knew it was where his greatest violation of trust would come.
Hudson, in response to the NorthBridge attacks and the REMie threats, had closed his security window and inner circles very tightly. The president knew everything about every agent. He had Vonner Security agents watching the Secret Service, and the Secret Service likewise watching the VS. He rarely met in person with people outside his circle, but when he did, Dranick always knew. Dranick, as one of the president’s oldest and most trusted friends, combined with his role as DNI, had complete security access.
“There are three dates in the next ten days when I believe we would have our best chance to take the president into custody without bloodshed to his security detail or bystanders,” Dranick said, pointing to his laptop screen, displaying the dates and locations.
They all agreed, after reviewing different options, that Ca
mp David would be ideal. Troops would be waiting, agents would be replaced, the president would be relaxed, comfortable, and feeling his most secure. Camp David was a military base. Camp David was the perfect site for a coup d'état.
“I’ll, of course, be at Camp David that weekend,” Dranick said. “Along with Chief of Staff Emmitt “Fitz” Fitzgerald, and the first lady, which is convenient, since they’ll also need to be detained.”
“At the same time, the vice president will be in Washington,” the Admiral said. “We’ll summon her and the other cabinet members to the White House, where they’ll be notified and held.”
“Officially, all upper level members of the administration will be placed under house arrest,” General Imperia said. “All except the Secretary of Defense and the Secretary of Interior who will, by then, be on board.”
“The internet and media?” the Marine commandant asked.
“We hit the kill switch on the internet the instant the president is in custody,” General Imperia said. “Simultaneously, we’ll have teams hit every major newspaper. NorthBridge has already weakened several of our targets, but we’ll finish the job. Broadcast media will be easier to handle because we control the airwaves, spectrum, and satellites.”
The conversation soon switched to what they called “the wildcard”—the possibility that the public could not be convinced that the charges against the president and the threat to the nation were severe enough to warrant the military’s actions.
“We’ve got scenarios ready,” Imperia said. “The public can be scared easily. They get virtually all their information from the media. They believe what they’re told. It’s sad how easy they are to manipulate. However, in this case, it allows us to achieve our objectives.”
“If you’re talking about embellishment,” Dranick said, “I’m not really comfortable with that.