by Rick Dakan
135
Democratic Senators, and of course Hillary Clinton. He rose to prominence during the California recall election as one of Arnold's biggest boosters, appearing at dozens of rallies around the Bay Area.
In many ways, Paul had Evers in mind when he'd conceived of Los Gatos as the site for his prank. He knew Evers lived in the mountains just north of the town and had hoped he might even be present. No such luck, but they did catch a break in one respect - the prank turned out to be the lead item on Evers' show. He railed against the "Unwashed Berkley Punks" who'd "Waged War against everything good and decent in the Bay Area" with their "Godless, communist, terrorist tactics."
Chloe having gotten past the call screener, was the third caller he took.
"Jody in Campbell, you're on the air with Sam Evers," he said.
"Uh, hi Sam. Love your show," said Chloe. "Long time, first time."
"Great to have you with us caller. I understand you witnessed this terrorist attack first hand? Is that right?"
"It's absolutely right Sam. I was there and...and I have to tell you Sam, it was the most outrageous thing I'd ever seen."
"Tell us what happened Jody. What did these patchouli soaked nimrods do?"
"I have to tell you Sam, I live a good, decent, Christian life. There's not a lot left for families like mine to do these days. Not many places that are safe for a family with real values. So my husband and I were really looking forward to taking our little daughter to this arts festival."
"How old's your daughter?"
"She's five, Sam. And she's just a darling, sweet girl. She's never been exposed to anything like this and, I have to tell you, last night she had nightmares like you wouldn't believe. We were up all night with her, the poor little thing."
"An innocent child, scarred, possibly for life," said Sam, his voice as serious as a funeral. "If these degenerates really cared about poor, supposedly exploited workers so much, then maybe they'd be bothered by the fact that they scared this poor little girl half to death with their evil, self-indulgent BS."
"That's right Sam. And I just wanted to call and say that, you know, someone should do something. I mean, the police say they're looking into it but I'll bet that even if they catch these guys, they won't do anything about it. I bet the ACLU will be out here with their stupid garbage and they'd be defending these people."
"These terrorists," interjected Sam.
"Right. Exactly. These terrorists. And the ACLU and the liberal judges would just let them go. Someone else needs to do something. The decent folk around here need to get together and send them a message that this kind of thing isn't ok." Chloe's voice started to become choked with false tears. "Not here, not in our America."
Knowing that it wouldn't get any better than the tear-soaked line that Chloe had just thrown him, Sam took over from there. "Thanks for your call Jody, and give your daughter a big hug from all of us here at the Sam Evers show." Chloe was now disconnected, which was a relief, because she immediately started laughing.
Paul and Raff had both tuned into the Evers show once Chloe got on the air, and they started laughing as well.
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"God, that was perfect," said Paul, taking off his headphones and giving Chloe an encouraging slap on the knee. "Pitch perfect. I could picture Jody exactly. And her poor daughter!"
Raff still had his headphones on one ear, "God this annoying fuck is still going on about the daughter," he informed them. "That was a great angle, Paul."
"The right-wingers always buy into the 'protect our children' line," explained Paul. "It's their own excuse for everything they do, so they'll take any opportunity to jump on that tired old bandwagon."
"So," said Chloe, turning to Paul. "When do we go live with the second site?"
"I'm not sure," he replied. "What do you think?"
"We've got two different factors to consider. It's the choice you have to make with almost any con. Right now the topic is hot. If anything we're getting more exposure than we figured on. So the sooner we move on to the next step, the more people we'll suck in."
"But," said Paul, "Does it strain credulity to think that someone could get a Web site like that up so quickly?
Will people start to suspect that something's up?"
"Exactly. That's the question. And I think, in something like this, you have to go with the momentum. I know we weren't planning to go with the site until tomorrow, but our target audience is talking about it right now.
It's not going to get any bigger than this unless we push it there."
"I don't know," said Paul. "Don't you think it will come across as really convenient? This only works if people believe it's real."
"But you're on the inside Paul. To you, all the deceptions seem too convenient and too obvious because you know they're deceptions. But no one else is looking that hard. These talking heads and Internet goons, all they want is a great story to run with. And you came up with a great story. They're going to go with it because they're going to want to believe it. They're not looking for holes in the story; they want something to get mad about. You can't over-think it. Once the game starts you have to make decisions in the moment and not be paralyzed with over-analysis. Remember, as we always say around here, no battle plan survives contact with the enemy, so you can't over think when real life gets ahead of your plan."
"Ahhh," said Paul. "Gotcha. Ok, let's do it. Put the site up. But maybe dumb it down little - take off some of the features like the streaming video. Just the basics."
"Including the part where you donate money," Chloe reminded him.
"Of course. That's why we're here, right?"
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CHAPTER 25
"It's a good sign when complete strangers are doing your work for you," said Chloe.
It was evening now, and they were waiting on hold for yet another local call-in show. Only three other crew members had gotten through during the day - one of them on the G. Gordan Liddy Show and one on a local NPR show out of San Francisco, while Popper actually got on the Sam Evers show as well, saying the same kinds of things that Chloe had. Liddy had already picked up the prank story, as had Rush and Hannity. They didn't make any of the major network news broadcasts that night, or CNN. However, O'Reily mentioned them on his Fox News show, which was quite a coup.
They'd put up the Concerned Citizens for A Moral America site shortly before noon. Over the next few hours they'd painted the right-winger sites with links and had managed to scare up well over ten thousand hits by dinnertime. Now, as they listened on hold, another local talking head, Dr. Nancy Keller, was taking a call from someone totally unrelated to the Crew. This unknown caller could've been reading from one of Paul's scripts, he hit all the right marks. Like Chloe had said, it's great when others do your work for you. The caller even gave the address for the Concerned Citizens site and the host promised to link to it from her own Web site. Perfect.
Concerned Citizens for a Moral America was, of course, a total Crew fabrication. The group's Web site claimed that the CCMA formed itself in the wake of the "Outrageous and Immoral Assault" committed in Lost Gatos on Sunday. Although the site had first hand accounts and pictures from the incident, the main attraction was the reward. The site promised a cash bounty to anyone providing information that led to the unmasking and arrest of those responsible for the Mad Cow scare. It even had a form tipsters could use to e-mail their accusations directly to the Concerned Citizens volunteers, who would then supposedly pass them on to the authorities.
Most important of all, the site had a section for other concerned citizens to make donations. For every dollar donated to the reward fund, the group's founders would donate two of their own. The site started with a $10,000 initial bounty, and had already risen to $37,000, over $10,000 of which were real life generous gifts from actual concerned citizens that had been matched by phantom Crew dollars. So far so good.
"All right, I think we've done
enough for one day," said Chloe as she disconnected her phone. "We need to save something for the rest of the week."
"I'm going to stay at it a little while longer," said Paul, "At least to monitor the late night shows. You sure you won't join me?" He was so buzzed with excitement from the con, sleep was the last thing on his mind.
She yawned and stretched. "Nah, I'm fucking beat. I have newfound respect for telemarketers though, I'll tell you that. Sitting with a phone to your ear all day sucks ass."
"Next time we do this we should get headsets," said Paul.
"Next time we should hire a call center in India."
"Great, now we're outsourcing our nation's fraud work, too? You know there are American con men here at home who need to put food on the table."
"Don't go believing your own rhetoric there tough guy, it's the surest way to become disillusioned in this biz."
"I'll remember that. I wouldn't want to end up a bitter and crusty cynic, now would I?"
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"Who're you calling crusty?"
"I'm sorry. Bitter and beautiful cynic."
"That's better," said Chloe, giving him a quick peck on the cheek. "G'night. And don't tell anyone but, you're doing a great job. Keep your chin up."
Paul paused long enough to really assess their progress today, but it seemed like everything really was coming together. He thought briefly about going back to the bedroom with Chloe now, but she was obviously tired and he was still wired on adrenaline and coffee. He'd want something more than sleep from her right now.
They'd shared nothing more intimate than a casual kiss or hug since the night on the beach. Things always seemed to work out that they were going to bed at different times or one or the other of them was passing out on the couch. Always something, and he was getting tired of it. But the high he was getting from seeing his plan come to life more than compensated for the lack of sex. Well, almost compensated. Besides, he couldn't afford the distraction right now. Everyone was both depending on him and watching him closely. Watching for any indication that he'd tripped up or let the pressure get to him. Focus on the game, he told himself. The rest will come when it comes. No pun intended.
He turned his radio back up and dialed the phone again. Maybe he'd get through this time.
Over the next three days The Concerned Citizens for a Moral America Web site got more and more hits as news of their crusade to unmask the Mad Cow Terrorists (as the site referred to them) spread. A few times a day Paul would compose updates with false leads and revelations about who the mysterious vandals might actually be. They encouraged the wildest speculation, inventing ties to the Green Party, the French Arts Council, and of course right-wing punching bag, Hillary Clinton.
On the flip side, the Global Freedom Army kept up its own pace and was garnering its own support from the radical left. They issued daily communiqués, promising future action and decrying corporate hegemony and
"Big Coffee." Both sites hosted furious, flame-filled debates between the two sides. At first these were purely staged events carried out by the Crew, but soon the feud took on a life of its own and the left vs. right throw-down became entirely self-sustaining.
The bounty rose to $75,000, representing just over $30,000 in real money brought in through the Web site.
Profits were good, and the groundwork was laid for stage three. The Crew had assembled in the living room again, and this time there was a lot of interest in what Paul had to say. The buzz in the house had been good ever since the park prank, and especially since the money started coming in. As always, Chloe opened the meeting.
"Ok, kids, we're doing great here, as I'm sure you all know. We're still ahead of schedule and it looks like we're going to stay that way. We're moving up the big party to next week if we can swing it." This generated a hum of excitement in the room. "I'll turn things over to the Paulster and he'll give you your assignments."
"I know this is the part that worries some of you the most," said Paul. "We need to interact face to face with a large number of people here, including some government official types, so Chloe's ready to set us up with disguises and what not. But still, I don't want to ask anyone to do anything they're not confident in. I'm going to take the lead with the party planners and caterers and so forth. Raff's going to handle getting the permits.
Chloe's going to head out and glad hand the local politicians and radio people. So we've got all the real big risk jobs covered."
"What's left then?" asked Kurt, always one to cut to the chase.
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Paul glanced nervously at Chloe. "We talked about it and, well, we decided not to go with hired help for the catering. So..."
"You want waiters!" said Popper. "You know, most of us got into this job so we wouldn't have to wait tables."
Everyone laughed at that.
"I know, I know," said Paul. "It's suck work to be sure. All I can say is, think how big the tip is going to be at the end of the night."
"We're hoping to take down a big score that night," Chloe said. "And things will go a lot better if we don't have a bunch of stoned college kids in penguin suits serving canapés and memorizing our faces. Guests don't pay much attention to caterers, but caterers pay a lot of attention to the people paying the bills. Plus, we need to be able to make sure we cover our withdrawal once the deed is done."
"So," said Paul. "Any volunteers?"
Everyone raised their hands, a show of support that Paul took to mean that they all believed the con was going as well as he did. "Cool," was all he said as he swelled with pride.
Chloe stepped in. "Great, you're all hired. Now, Popper honey, since you've got the waitressing experience, can you run these cats through a quick training session or two to get them up to speed. And everyone see Bee to get fitted for radio ear pieces, ok?"
"Thanks guys," said Paul. "Let's throw one hell of a party, ok?"
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CHAPTER 26
At first Paul had wanted to get a permit to use the very same park where they'd pulled their prank nine days earlier. But permits turned out to be harder to get than he'd thought, and so they'd had to use an alternate venue - The Woodbine Restaurant, which happened to be the very place Raff had been eating when he videotaped the prank for TV. As Paul watched the rabid-right radio and techno-conservatives of Silicon Valley mill about the two open bars and munch on sushi and crab cakes snatched from trays carried by roving crew members, he realized this was a much, much better choice. For one thing they didn't have to worry about a tent or any expensive equipment when it came time to make their getaway. For another, it was raining outside.
The Concerned Citizens for a Moral America's inaugural fundraiser showed every sign of being a successful event. There were already almost a hundred and twenty people here, with more coming through the doors all the time. They'd rented out the entire restaurant for the night and paid for the food and the bar. The Woodbine was your typical oversized, upscale California fusion cuisine eatery. In the days of the tech boom it had been full of venture capitalists and nouveau riche engineers every night. Now they were more than happy to rent themselves out on what would've been an otherwise slow Tuesday night. Still, they'd charged $20,000, and it'd taken a sizable chunk out of the "reward" money they'd raised online.
Chloe and Paul stood in the kitchen, watching through a crack in the door as the marks listened attentively to none other than local talk show host Sam Evers as he harangued them with horror stories about the Los Gatos park prank. The crowd was eating up every word of it, which was no surprise since he'd been instrumental in getting many of them here tonight. The crowd was rich and credulous, just as they'd planned.
Raff stood a few feet behind them, his phone pressed to one ear, a finger jammed in the other to block out the noisy kitchen. Like Chloe, he was dressed in the black pants and vest of a caterer. Paul, wearing a brand new suit, was the face of the operation, and
so far he was the only one with any public connection to organizing the fundraiser.
With his hair dyed blonde, a fake moustache glued to his upper lip, and glasses, he hoped his face wouldn't be easily recognizable. Under his suit he wore padding that added another four waist sizes and made him look forty pounds heavier than he actually was. Bee had sewn the costume herself, and he was surprised at how comfortable it was to wear. He was having a little more trouble with the shoes, which lifted his height but made his walk a little wobbly if he didn't concentrate.
Raff got off the phone and came over to them. "That was the Congressman's chief of staff. He's on his way.
Should be here in twenty minutes. Maybe thirty with the rain." Getting the Congressman to appear had been their greatest coup. A notoriously rightwing representative from the central valley, Representative Andy Felson was a darling of the talk radio circuit and a famously successful fundraiser. His agreeing to speak lent an air of credibility they really needed to pull this scam off, although it had cost them a $10,000 campaign donation.
Evers was finishing up on stage, ranting about liberal terrorists and the threat they posed to everything decent and good in America. He finished with his famous tag line - "Not, here! Not in my America!" and the crowd went wild for him.
"Ok, time to give my spiel," said Paul, straightening his tie for the umpteenth time.
"Just keep it short and sweet and you'll do fine," said Chloe.
"Yeah, just remind them the drinks are free and they'll love you forever," Raff added.
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"Right. Ok. I'm on."
Paul strode confidently out of the kitchen and towards the small stage they'd set up at the far end of the dining room where Evers was shaking hands with his fans. As he wove his way through the crowd, he passed by the silent auction tables that lined one wall. The tables had bright, glossy pictures of cruise ships, spas, and the dining rooms of some of the best restaurants in San Francisco and Napa Valley. There were also photos of jewelry, watches, and even a display promising personalized helicopter tours of Muir Woods. Attached to each display was a small digital screen and a credit card reader that showed the current high bid on each of the items.