Cyber Attack
Page 25
“Tallahassee, Florida, sir.”
Chapter 54
September 3, 2016
Triple Q Ranch, Prescott Peninsula
Quabbin Reservoir, Massachusetts
“The girls were exhausted,” said Susan as she joined Donald, J.J. and Sabs on the front porch of the main building of the Prescott Peninsula complex—1PP. “All of that time swimming wore out our water babies, Daddy.”
Donald took a sip of his Samuel Adams lager. The sound of a loon wailed across the Quabbin Reservoir as it tried to regain contact with its mate. This prompted a responsive night chorus of loon tremolos—a back and forth sound that sounded like a violinist playing the same note repeatedly.
“This is so serene, peaceful,” said Donald. “If we didn’t have to sleep on bunk beds, I could stay here forever. Tell me again why we live in the city?”
“It’s not that bad at Brae Burn,” replied Susan. “I think we would go stir-crazy with no activities for us or the children.”
Donald stretched out in the chair in order to work out the stiffness setting in from today’s activities. “I suppose. Besides, we can come out here whenever we want. We have security personnel rotating in and out per Brad’s orders. The pantry is always stocked, needless to say. The Triple Q Ranch can become our home away from home any time.”
“You two have performed a miracle here,” said J.J. “I was amazed at 100 Beacon when you first took me on a tour. Sarge sits on top of a prepper fortress, and 1PP is equally outfitted, but can accommodate hundreds of people.”
“And they did it in ninety days,” added Sabs. J.J. reached out to rub her shoulder. Donald was happy for his friend and enjoyed watching their relationship grow. They were now inseparable and both of them contributed greatly to the development of the Triple Q Ranch. “What’s the next step?”
“Nothing, really,” replied Donald. “Any preparedness plan, regardless of the magnitude, is always evolving based upon everything from increased mouths to feed to the nature of the threats we face. Susan and I conducted extensive research considering our anticipated occupancy levels and the amount of time the Triple Q Ranch would be occupied during a collapse event.”
Donald stood up to stretch his legs and continued. “The motto on the preparedness website I prefer most—FreedomPreppers.com—is very straightforward. Because you never know when the day before is the day before. Prepare for tomorrow.”
“There are certain threats we face—collapse events—that can occur without warning,” added Susan. “Examples are an EMP attack, bioterror attacks, and certain natural disasters. Others, like solar flares, pandemic, near-earth objects, and economic collapse provide at least a modicum of warning.”
“What is your biggest concern, Donald?” asked Sabs.
Donald thought for a moment, as there were so many reasons to prepare. He sat back down and looked into the dark woods as the loons continued to entertain each other with their crazy laugh. “Darkness. My biggest concern is any grid-down scenario, whether it was caused by a massive solar flare, a nuclear-delivered EMP, or due to a cyber attack. If all or part of the power grid goes down, we will quickly descend into economic and societal collapse.”
Susan held his hand. They’d had this conversation many times before. “Our plan for the Triple Q Ranch assumed a long-term grid-down scenario,” said Susan. “We consider it the worst-case scenario. Any collapse event which is less than the collapse of the power grid could then be dealt with unless…”
“Unless what?” asked J.J.
“Unless one or more of our enemies used our nation’s bad fortune to their advantage and piled on with an attack of their own. A fighter can take a punch and get off the mat. Several punches can result in a knockout.”
Donald continued to stare out into the darkness. J.J. broke him out of the trance.
“Hey, buddy, how but another cold beer?” J.J. helped Sabs out of her Adirondack chair. “You stay put while we grab the burgers and potatoes for the grill.” It was a new moon. It was dark.
“Deal. I could use another cold one.”
Chapter 55
September 3, 2016
100 Beacon
Boston, Massachusetts
Sarge and Julia sat down at the dining table on the rooftop terrace at 100 Beacon. It was a cool evening indicating the end of summer and fall’s arrival. Julia handed Sarge the corkscrew and watched as he expertly popped open a German Spätlese from the Mosel region of Germany near the Czech border. This was a very sweet wine, perfect for dessert and one of Julia’s favorites. They were quiet for a moment as they both looked out across the Charles River and the Esplanade on Storrow Drive.
There was supposed to be a Boston Pops concert together with a fireworks show afterwards, but it was cancelled because Boston PD had insufficient manpower to provide security. Over the last several days, riots and unrest—typically confined to the South End—were now prevalent in all parts of the city. Boston was coming unraveled. Sarge saw evidence this was the beginning of the end.
Julia broke the silence. “I think the Quinns took their girls to Prescott Peninsula for the weekend. Susan said Donald wanted to admire his handiwork.”
Sarge laughed. “As well he should. They worked miracles to bring that project together in a hundred days. Mr. Morgan was very pleased when I spoke with him the other day.” Sarge poured them both a glass of wine and they toasted.
“Cheers.”
“I think J.J. and Sabs went too,” she said. “I guess they are officially an item.”
“Donald told me J.J. was very happy and he referred to Sabs as being good therapy.” Sarge laughed. “I wonder what he means by that.”
“Oh, I know,” replied Julia. “We had a girl talk the other day. Sabs is very much a soldier, but she is trying to retain her identity as a woman. They are getting serious and I’m very happy for them.”
“Yeah, me too.” Sarge slid a couple of chairs in front of them so they could prop up their feet. Julia kicked off her sandals and settled in. “Speaking of getting serious, my brother has gone through some changes this summer.”
“I noticed that too. I never get an opportunity to talk to Katie much since she is in Washington. But I noticed Steven spends a lot of time with her.”
Sarge took a sip of wine and paused as two police cars roared down Commonwealth—sirens blazing.
“Something happened to Steven when he was on assignment in Germany last May. Just a week before, he was his usual testosterone-driven whore dog. A week or so after he returned, he began to call Katie every night and visited her most weekends. He doesn’t even talk about his usual man-child stuff.”
“What happened to him? Is he okay?”
“Yeah, it’s nothing like that. He is just serious now. He pays attention to the news. He stays with Katie every chance he gets. I don’t know. Maybe he’s growing up.”
“No way.”
“Way.” That earned him a slug to the shoulder.
“Good for them. When I see Katie, I’ll ask her how he’s doin’. Girls know things.”
“You do.”
“Yep.”
Sarge contemplated this for a moment. “I spoke to Brad. He allowed a substantial amount of the base to go on leave to visit their families. He has a trusted group that he keeps on base at all times—hard-core military and the nucleus of the Mechanics.”
“How many does he have?”
“He told me last week he has around eighty to a hundred at Devens, but thousands more nationwide under the command of friends.”
“Wow, that’s a great start.”
“I thought so. These guys rotate in and out of the Triple Q Ranch, acting as maintenance and security. He and Donald have it very well organized.” He refilled their glasses and they clinked them before taking another sip.
“Where is Abbie this weekend?”
“I thought she was supposed to be home, according to what her dad said the other day, but I caught a glimpse of her at a campaign stop i
n Tallahassee near Florida State University. They have her flying all over the country, putting out fires.”
“Is Florida in play?”
“Must be. The ticket is slipping in the polls. Unless something changes, they will lose.”
“After the conversation with Robby Mook, have they left you alone?”
“Yes. I brought it up to Mr. Morgan soon afterwards, and I’m sure he put the kibosh on it.”
They remained quiet for a moment, enjoying their wine and the Boston skyline. There was very little traffic on the street. The downtown nightlife died over the summer as it became unsafe to be on the dark city streets. Following Sarge’s encounter on Boston Common, people stopped visiting the park as often. The tension in the city had a chilling effect on all aspects of their lives.
“Is Steven’s friend Drew still part of Abbie’s security detail?”
“As far as I know.”
“I’ve seen them interact together during raw news feeds. They seem to get along really well.”
“I’m sure he is very professional.” Julia’s feet were starting to twitch. She’s on a mission.
“Well, maybe they’ll get together. She needs someone in her life.”
Yeah, not me. “I agree.”
“Do you think the Quinns will be the only set of friends with children?” Twitch.
“Oh, probably not. I mean, we’re all still young, right?” Julia’s prying into my brain. Her feet were twitching like an annoyed cat’s tail. “What do you think?”
“Do you wanna have kids someday?” Blindside! Sarge finished off the rest of his glass of wine—which was nearly half full.
This was a long overdue conversation.
Chapter 56
September 3, 2016
9:11 p.m.
Undisclosed Location
Boston, Massachusetts
Lau sat in the dark staring at the computer terminal. The monitor was lifeless except for the faint glow illuminating his face like an X-ray. Its pulsating cursor, ever-patient, awaited an answer. His middle finger caressed the mouse. If his frayed nerves caused his index finger to twitch—an accidental press of the enter key—the decision would be made for him.
Am I going too far? There will be consequences.
Refusal was not an option—if he hoped to live.
I could try to run. I have money. I could easily disappear in Korea, China or Thailand. Live like a king.
Except these people would find me. You could not hide from these kinds of people.
He glanced over the top of the monitor to once again look in the eyes of his young graduate students, each in the prime of their lives, held at gunpoint.
Sweating profusely, Lau groaned aloud to the empty room. He made a decision.
The saga will continue in MARTIAL LAW…
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Read on for the first chapters of MARTIAL LAW
History of the Original Loyal Nine
Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it.
~ George Santayana, philosopher and novelist
America has a penchant for rebellion. While the dates associated with the War for Independence are well known, the battle for freedom began many years before with the early colonists and continued into the nineteenth century.
Author Bobby Akart explores the trials and tribulations of a fledgling nation with a particular examination of the attitudes of the early colonists and their taste for freedom as they built America.
Seeds of Liberty takes the reader on a historical journey beginning with the settlement of Roanoke Island in 1585 through the British attempts to clamp down on the colonists via the Stamp Act in 1764 — the impetus for the creation of The Loyal Nine.
For a period of ten years following the formation of the Loyal Nine, tensions between the British government and the colonists grew. As pressures built in America, chapters of the Sons of Liberty were formed all over the Thirteen Colonies, especially throughout New England, Virginia, and the Carolinas.
As the Sons of Liberty grew, so did their desire to adopt their own heraldry. Heraldry was used throughout history as a means to express a group’s pride and loyalty. In 1767, the Sons of Liberty adopted a five red and four white vertical-striped flag as the group’s formal standard. It became known as the Rebellious Flag and the nine stripes paid tribute to the Loyal Nine.
The leaders of the revolt, the Sons of Liberty, were faced with a chance to fundamentally change the course of America. They faced a choice—continue to live under tyranny or choose freedom. They chose freedom. By 1775, their opportunity became reality and the war for independence began. But the seeds of freedom were planted by nine brave Bostonians who had a vision and the courage to stand by their convictions—the Loyal Nine.
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Teaser Chapters for MARTIAL LAW
(Book 3 in The Boston Brahmin series)
Available December 2015
Chapter 1
September 3, 2016
9:05 p.m.
U.S. Route 411 Northbound
Near Tennga, Georgia
“Baby, you know I’m pedalin’ as fast as I can. I wanna get home to them ribs and your lovin like nuthin else on dis earth.” Big John Ames navigated his Peterbilt through the small town of Eton, Georgia and continued on his northern route along U.S. 411. It had been a long day as he waited on his load at the Olin Chlor-Alkali plant in McIntosh, Alabama. He should have been home hours ago but he couldn’t complain. There was no such thing as overtime pay in the trucking business, but Olin did pay their independent drivers for wait time. Detention pay was not typical but it was one of the perks Big John negotiated with Olin. At this hour, traffic was light, and he was making up time.
The Olin plant in Charleston, Tennessee was only twenty minutes from their home in Etowah. His wife of forty-two years, Patty worked for the McMinn County Clerk’s Office and their four kids moved away to big cities like Atlanta and Memphis. It was just the two of them now and Big John was eyeing retirement. He still loved to drive but late Saturday nights like this one was not what he had in mind.
He checked his mirrors constantly, out of habit. His eyes were always roving the road — seemingly everywhere at once. Big John was a safe driver with a nearly impeccable driver safety record. Of course, one misjudgment and he may take out a fender in a parking lot or wipe out the fuel pumps at a local truck stop.
“I’ll be comin’ up on the state line shortly baby and then straight into Charleston. Dem boys know I’ma comin’ and I can drop this tanker real quick like. I’m powerful hungry!” After he passed through the small town of Crandall, the diesel engine whined as he upshifts, working through gear after gear. It takes only a short while to get the rig up to speed. Chlorine gas is only slightly heavier than air. Large tanker trucks carrying gasoline or other liquefied loads can reach ninety thousand pounds when fully loaded. This load was light by comparison, an easy haul for his older M11 400E Cummins Diesel.
Crossing Sumac Creek, he notices the fog settling in for the evening. Then he noticed the time — 9:05 p.m. It was time for the David Webb show. “Now sugar, I’ve got to get down to bidness here. Let me roll on and I’ll call ya when I leave da Charleston Plant. I love ya’.”
Big John always told his wife he loved her when they hung up — because he did.
Chapter 2
September 3, 2016
9:03 p.m.
Amtrak/CSX Rail Southbound
Near Tennga, Georgia
T
he word Tampa means sticks of fire in the native language of the Calusa Indians who inhabited the area surrounding Tampa Bay in the sixteenth century. The term sticks of fire may have referred to the many intense lightning strikes the area received during the summer storms.
Railroad magnate Henry B. Plant brought his South Florida Railroad to Tampa in the late nineteenth century thereby connecting the region to industry and commerce via the nation’s railway system. The new railroad link enabled another important industry to enter the Tampa market—cigars. Once the railway link was completed, Vicente Ybor moved his cigar manufacturing operations to Tampa from Key West. Tampa’s close proximity to Cuba made the import of the choice tobacco from Havana easy by ship, and the newly created railroad link allowed shipment of the finished cigars to the rest of the United States.
As a result, Tampa became known nationwide for another stick of fire — the cigar. As the cigar industry flourished, so did Tampa and its pristine white sand beaches which became a magnet for visitors. The tourists became accustomed to the surroundings and made the annual trek for their vacations from Midwestern states like Ohio, Illinois and Indiana. As the vacationers reached retirement age, Tampa Bay became a logical location to ride out the winter months in the warm Florida sunshine.
In an effort to boost its profits as government funding of its rail operations began to dwindle, Amtrak partnered with CSX, the largest railroad in the eastern United States, to share the CSX railway system. Amtrak created pleasure routes between major population centers and tourist destinations. The partnership allowed CSX to maximize the use of its railway system between Tampa and the Midwest. CSX already operated the Juice Train, the collective name for Tropicana’s freight cars that carry fresh juice between Bradenton, just outside of Tampa, northbound to Cincinnati. The Amtrak partnership allowed for the rails to be utilized on the weekends.