Custos: Enemies Domestic

by Jake Aaron

  “Are you a marathon runner?” Barb inquired. “You look really fit. I must learn about your workout routine.”

  The security specialist smiled, “I do a little this and a little that. Staying trim has been easier of late, but in my mid-twenties I had to start portion control at the table… I mix in a little yoga and tai chi with aerobics. How about yourself? You look super fit.”

  “I run four or five miles a day, five days a week. I have yoga sessions twice a week. And on my mom’s advice, I’ve begun portion control… We seem to have a lot in common!”

  “So what’s your sign?… The security specialist laughed at his joke. “Just kidding, that was the thing to ask years ago — a trite pick up line. I think I was a few years ahead of you in school — and that’s overgenerous to me.” Again, he laughed at the situation. “We should have coffee sometime — to compare workout regimens.” He smiled easily.

  Just then a surge of hungry staff arrived at the cafeteria. Barb noticed first, “I guess we better step up to serve them. We should do coffee sometime! I didn’t catch your name.”

  “It’s Stan.”

  “Nice to meet you, Stan. I’m Barb. Let’s have coffee after we serve the next wave.”

  Doctors, nurses, and other medical personnel kept coming for another hour. As volunteers began to leave, Barb was disappointed to see Stan had left already. She wanted to exchange business cards with a potential running buddy. A very interesting man, she smiled to herself.

  Chapter 44

  January 4

  The Capitol

  Speaker of the House “Hap” Henry Johnson was living proof that politics is show business for the less attractive. Late repair of his cleft palate and facial asymmetry might have been a disadvantage in life. Instead, Hap’s lack of physical appeal became a springboard to an infectious personality. His overcompensation as a youth was too much for many. By the time he was an adult, however, he exuded a natural vivacity and polished demeanor. Hap capitalized on his appearance with self-deprecating humor and smart dress. His unwrinkled look and vibrant Jerry Garcia ties were legendary.

  Beginning a new calendar year, Congressman Johnson considered the future legislative agenda. Routine expenditures and non-discretionary spending did not seem to incur the wrath of whoever this Custos assassin was. In contrast, Congress was paralyzed in passing large initiatives or unfunded projects. No one wanted to sponsor such bills.

  Hap knew the public had a body-count mentality on getting things done by Congress. Activity was perceived as progress, with little regard to where it actually led — form withoutsubstance. His industrial engineering degree from Purdue taught him better. Hap knew from Dr. W. Edwards Deming’s teachings that an organization’s goal should be long-term effectiveness, the proper systems view — not short-term results. But, alas, Deming did not have to run for office. Short-term, perhaps short-sightedness, seemed to win every day in Washington.

  Four congresspersons down: Zimmer, Paige, Kelly, McClain — Hap thought. Meeting in secret was now routine. Likely, the best way to get a big spending bill through was to have multiple sponsors — the old committee solution to dilute responsibility. Like most Washington secrets, the Speaker’s idea was quickly the buzz around the capital: Spread sponsorship far and wide or try to keep it secret. Optimism for renewed big spending was growing in Congress.

  How would Custos react? Hap was not sure. The congressional crucible clearly simmered with uncertainty. This called for leadership, Hap concluded. Overcoming his early physical disadvantage had given him incorrigible courage. He had immense confidence he could navigate through the Custos minefield without a detonation.

  Hap decided to show his confidence in the country and in the future. What better way than publicly taking his grandchildren to Disney World? He had promised this trip to wife Mirasol for years. What better time than now? He knew there had to be a detail of agents watching over them, but he’d remind the agents to avoid being caught by the cameras. Once again he would prove himself a masterful strategist, he reflected.

  Chapter 45

  January 7

  Joint Base Andrews, MD

  The 89th Airlift Wing at Joint Base Andrews Naval Air Facility provided the Air Force crew to fly the C-37A to Orlando. While not an official trip, security concerns dictated the military flight. No way this would be considered an abuse of government resources, Hap reflected. After all, the Air Force version of the Gulfstream V was far more modest than the 200-passenger jet another speaker had routinely used, or abused as critics said. Security of the Speaker of the House necessitated the military umbrella.

  Two detailed federal agents were assigned to fly with the Johnsons and their two grandsons, an eight-year old and a six-year old. One agent discreetly preceded the family into the aircraft and one stayed near them. Two advance agents were already in Florida checking out the security of the itinerary of the Johnsons in Orlando.

  Marisol looked forward to the warmth of the Florida sun she had grown up in. Both of her parents had escaped Castro’s Cuba. These strict parents had made her the admirable person she was. In turn, she was really the force behind the man. Hap was no slouch in the work ethic department, but Marisol was legendary. Her parents instilled this Cuban Catholic with Protestant Puritan standards on steroids. In their early married years, Marisol had the young couple saving 40% of their income — and never stopped. She reviewed all of Hap’s hiring decisions and major career moves. She kept a spotless home and refused to hire a housekeeper. Self-aware, she knew she tended to over control, so she consciously tried to relax her standards for this much awaited vacation.

  Orlando, FL

  The Johnsons’ grandsons wanted to begin with the Magic Kingdom. Big Thunder Mountain Railroad was a great starter, not too scary for the six-year-old or Mirasol Johnson. Both adults opted out of Buzz Lightyear for coffee, but the boys loved the experience. Peter Pan was nostalgic for the older set, who also enjoyed the kids’ fun. Early in the afternoon, Philharmagic probably meant more to the adults than to the grandkids, who knew only a few of the Disney characters. After the thrill of Space Mountain, all were thankful to adjourn to the hotel pool to get away from lines and organized fun.

  The four detail agents showed no signs of emotion, but getting away from big crowds was a welcome relief. The day had been punctuated by involuntary adrenaline surges in reaction to the occasional nearby firecrackers. What was worse, the Johnson boys picked up on the agents’ discomfort and occasionally stomped on upside down drink cups, making a sound like gunfire.

  Hap Johnson felt good about this day and his decision to get out in public. Maybe he could lead the congressional mood out of the miasma Custos had brought upon it. Without question, seeing the grandsons and Mirasol so happy was really more important. He looked forward to two more days of excitement and fun at Typhoon Lagoon, Animal Kingdom, and Epcot. Life was too good! At the height of a wave of emotion, political surfer Hap should have anticipated an impending trough.

  Chapter 46

  January 7

  District of Columbia

  At 9:02 A.M. CNN had announced that Speaker of the House “Hap” Henry Johnson, Mirasol, and their two grandchildren had just taken off from Joint Base Andrews for a vacation at Disney World. Monitoring the this news on television, a slender, fit man sipped his strong black coffee and planned the attack on his target. His sense of being behind on this mission from the get-go raised his pulse rate. Much needed to be done. He concentrated on slowing his breathing by taking deeper breaths. More than anything, he hated rushing a mission. He immediately felt mission failure. He had to turn this feeling to advantage: anxiety sublimated to focus. Again, he concentrated on slowing his breathing. He was regaining control.

  How to get to Florida with as much equipment as possible, quickly? Charter plane? Easily checked by authorities. Steal a motorcycle in Florida? Chancy. Buy an untraceable motorcycle in Orlando? Possible with a big cash overpayment, but too memorable for witnesses. Ride a train? In
flexible and would require other connections. Charter a boat? Slow and the motorcycle would stand out. Rent a moving truck? He could load his own motorcycle out of view.Flexibility. He could rent a moving truck for an alleged local move and have a mechanic roll back the majority of miles on the odometer to and from Florida. A nice tip upon returning the truck would expedite the check-in and reduce questions.

  The man figured he could make up for being behind with an optimal mission timeline and better planning. The truck rental would save time. He could carry more materials with him, sleep in the truck if necessary. It would be an advantage not to go through airport security or be conspicuous. Easier was better at this point, particularly considering his weakening physical condition. His challenge was not to take too many shortcuts. He got another cup of strong black coffee and fine-tuned the plan.

  Outside the Nation’s capital, he had a copy cat.

  Chapter 47

  January 8

  Vallejo, CA

  Boasting over 100,000 residents, Vallejo displayed the expected malaise of a city forced to declare bankruptcy back in 2008. Every other downtown shop was still closed years later. The number of foreclosed properties was growing, not declining. Austerity measures required slashing the police force by a third. Public employee unions had no choice but to agree to cuts in health care and pension benefits. The city had closed two fire stations. No maintenance had been done on the city’s streets for five years. As a result, the city could not attract new businesses. The current year deficit was conservatively estimated to be nearly $4 million. With tax revenues still declining, Vallejo was in a death spiral.

  Councilman Michael Lee left his home for the city council meeting, held on the second and fourth Tuesdays of every month. The mile long walk depressed him. He saw foreclosed homes seemingly decaying before his eyes. At intersections, he had to step over aged potholes. He kept up his pace to arrive fifteen minutes before the 6:00 P.M. meeting.

  A Vallejo native, Michael could not bear to leave his once proud hometown, as many had, looking for better job prospects. His dad had worked on the docks, but Michael saw a different future for himself. His way with people propelled him into the booming real estate market. He had become his own boss, a realtor with five agents working for him. That was then; now he had no agents. He operated his “business” out of his study a few hours a day. His real estate office building itself went into foreclosure. Otherwise, he took whatever odd jobs that came up to pay the bills. He tapped his wallet pocket, getting satisfaction from the good money he pulled in guarding Christmas trees over seven nights in nearby Fairfield. Odd jobs paid the bills.

  Under a streetlamp and fading sunlight, a double honk by a passing VW bug shook Michael out of his funk. His chuckling high school speech teacher made the yak-yak motion with his right hand, opening and closing fingertips against the thumb. That was their inside gesture to indicate Michael should always practice his political speeches. As his teacher taught him, “The best off-the-cuff speeches are practiced a dozen times to sound natural.” Michael laughed and returned the yak-yak gesture, then a thumbs up.

  Now in a better frame of mind, Michael took the hint to practice his upcoming presentation to the council. He had the words down, but he needed to inject more passion. The dimming light gave him cover to talk to himself. In broad daylight, he would have been very self-conscious about that.

  Entering the hall, Michael’s mood soared. Great to see the old stalwarts who had stayed with the sinking ship of Vallejo. He shook hands with the other five councilmen. It was somehow even good to see his nemesis Sid Andrews. The bad blood between them began with a rivalry over Hillary. Both had wooed her. Michael had married her. She was now his ex-wife—one of the five agents who used to work for him. Hillary had moved on to more prosperous San Francisco, but Sid’s hate for Michael was more enduring than Michael’s marriage to Hillary.

  As the council meeting progressed, the pall of the bankruptcy was ever present. Something had to change, Michael reflected. When all agenda items had been covered, he asked for a closed-door finance session after a fifteen-minute recess. After locking the doors to the public and members again taking their seats, Michael boldly opened:

  “In the economic morass we face now and in the future, there is but one way out: stimulative spending. Franklin Delano Roosevelt showed us with the New Deal that we can achieve prosperity this way! To show the merits of my plan, I propose a prototype project: a downtown dog park. We can capitalize on the inexpensive real estate market. The depressed labor market, likewise, will allow us to minimize construction costs. The time is ripe for this project.

  “The city cries out for a ray of sunshine. That beam of light is a new downtown dog park. The dog park will attract people back to the heart of the city. Those people will shop. They’ll buy hamburgers, groceries, clothes, toys, and gasoline. In turn, that purchasing will set off a chain reaction of prosperity and growth. A mere $1 million will pay for itself almost overnight in increased general revenue.”

  Much debate followed the proposal resulting in a decision to address the subject again in closed session two weeks later. Michael was pleased with the outcome. He never expected that selling the proposal would be easy. He saw no downside to the dog park. In fact, it might pay a lot of personal bills for him in the future. He had locked in a secret exclusive listing on one of the top sites for the dog park. On the best alternate site, he had purchased an option to buy for $1. Nor was he averse to later being a contractor to improve and landscape the property when the city purchased it.

  Sid Andrews, a conservative spender, could not wait to leave the meeting. He would leak the story — very carefully. The press and public will have a field day with this one, he smiled to himself.

  _______________

  The next day, Sid drove to nearby Benicia to use a pay phone to contact the Vallejo Bear Truth to spill all the details of Lee’s dog park proposal. Benicia was far enough away, he hoped, so as not to be seen making a call. Undoubtedly, the newspaper would use a reverse phone number directory to locate the source, using called ID. For more insulation, Sid used a voice modulator to disguise his distinctive speech pattern.

  _______________

  The following morning the Bear Truth headlined: “COUNCILMAN DOGGED BY PARK.” The paper had tried to get any of the city council to address the proceedings of their closed session. None, including Michael and Sid, would say anything. As a result, the editor told his staff they had to publish the controversial story, if for nothing else than to get the public to demand the truth. Not surprisingly, most of the public was outraged at the thought of such a discretionary project when they were living hand-to-mouth.

  As controversy raged across the city, including San Francisco talk radio, an angry retired Vallejo resident went further. The retiree took his cue from national news and tried to emulate Custos’s messages. He sent a text message to the Bear Truth on a burner cell phone purchased from a nearby electronics store where he paid cash:

  TELL VALLEJO COUNCIL TO STOP OVERSPENDING. I WILL DOG YOU.—CUSTOS

  The retiree had tried to stay close to the real Custos’s method of operating with the text threat — at least what the press had publicized. He wiped the phone down before putting it on a pallet at the dockyards in Vallejo.

  The bewildered Vallejo newspaper’s editor immediately notified the FBI field office in Sacramento. The FBI could not trace the call. NSA picked up on the message with its Custos filter. The message had come from the docks. The phone was now headed westbound on a freighter in the Pacific.

  The Sacramento FBI special agent in charge understood the panic Custos induced, but recognized no real threat was stated. After conferring with FBI headquarters, she contacted the captain of the westbound freighter. She asked for a thorough search of the ship for the cell phone. “Order your crew to use gloves handling it. Bag it in plastic, and put it in a safe with details of who found it, time, location, etc. For now, we’ll plan on the Honolulu field of
fice sending someone to pick it up when you arrive, or begin search for it if you have not found it.”

  _______________

  The next day Vallejo newspaper headlined: “CUSTOS IN VALLEJO!”

  Councilman Michael Lee promptly called a press conference. Anchors of local TV and radio stations, as well as a reporter from the Bear Truth, were there. After a lot of fogging, Lee summarized: “The dog park was one of about twenty ideas on our wish list of proposals — if we had the money. We, of course, do not. We were just brainstorming in reaction to Councilman Andrews’ question. My honorable colleague asked, ‘How would life be different if we enjoyed better economic times?’ Let me assure my fellow citizens of Vallejo that no one, especially myself, would seriously propose any new discretionary spending, given our present economic circumstance. I call any charges to the contrary libel by my political opponents, who never pass up a chance to lie to the voting public.” His body language, however, shouted I protest too much.

  As Michael Lee confidently ended the conference, he waited for the press to leave before wiping his beaded brow with a handkerchief. As a politician, he feared adverse public opinion. As a man, he feared Custos. It was time to get a concealed carry permit for his Glock 37. Publicly opposed to guns, he hoped he could get the permit without the voters finding out. Michael had just joined the growing ranks of anti-gun spokespersons toting a personal pistol.

  And the anonymousVallejo retiree had just also joined the growing ranks of Custos pretenders. Zach had assigned one agent at FBI headquarters to deal almost solely with what he termed Otros Custos — when threats were not against Congress. That agent had a map of the United States and its territories, with red plastic pins denoting threats. Every state had at least one pin. Today Vallejo got its first pin, as did Hagatna, Guam.

  Would Orlando be next?