by Vincent Heck
“The man is brilliant. Let’s just go with it. This is what we put him on the job for. We don’t have to worry about him. He’s reliable, and completely off the radar to everyone. Everything proceeds as planned. We knew there’d be a chance we didn’t hear back from him until it’s all said and done. Let’s just calm down, it’s all or nothing.”
“OK. What about the girl?“
“Just calm down.”
The two looked, seemingly, right at Czyra in a scan of the landscape.
“Beautiful place, isn’t it?” The chairman asked.
“Yeah. I don’t know how he does it on government salary.” The deputy said while his voice faded off into the distance.
Czyra re-spliced the wires in the small box he needed to make a better connection and jogged back to the car where Jason sat listening to the conversation. Jason looked towards Czyra. “Hey, Czy. I can’t really make it out, but it seems both presidential candidates are in there – at least the woman is -- and they’re rehearsing their respective presidential stances. Apparently, they want to use the Olympics in this whole scheme, too.” Jason chuckled. “Sports, music, entertainment, politics, commerce—all of it. It’s a beautifully designed system.”
“It’s like any other business.” Czyra went silent before looking at Jason who seemed to be in deep thought.
“They want to convince us that this is the way the system should work.” Czyra said. “But, I’m tired of chasing the dangling carrot.”
“You seem a bit distracted. What’s wrong?”
“I missed something.” Czyra said. “I heard them talking about someone ‘off of the radar.’ We’ve gotta figure out who that is. I recorded it. Listen.” He played the recording for Jason.
“Do you have any clue?” Jason asked. “Have you ever come across any inconsistencies that didn’t add up?”
Czyra bellowed out a loud laugh before collecting himself. “Excuse me? That’s all I’ve come across are inconsistencies. It’s how they operate.”
“Well, what if we take all those inconsistencies, and try to figure out how they string together—if at all—then maybe we can put a profile on this mystery person.” Jason said. “Whoever he is, is probably doing the most damage.”
“OK. Let’s get out of here and get started on that, now.”
“I’ve got a few resources we could use.” Jason said. “Get us back to the interstate. I’ve got a plan.”
Governor (Presidential candidate) Wilford Mince’s office
Austin, Texas
The papers piled high on Texas Governor Wilford Mince’s desk; his thoughts raced. The 53-year-old man had finally seen his few decades of politics all the way through to the point he had hoped to reach: Presidential candidate.
Like everything else in this campaign, he knew he’d have a lot of work to do – but, it was more like ‘follow directions’ work than any sort of research, himself. There was nothing he felt more comfortable with, than paying attention and following instructions. He was a successful business man – he knew the value in that sort of order.
Next to the stacks of paper on his desk, he had five cell phones. One for each of the major factions in his life—three of them were connected to business. His least used was the phone he had used to speak to the Brendenhalls. That one he kept in the drawer. He had a that was used to communicate directly with the franchise owners of the businesses he managed. He had a third that he clearly used for personal calls to, among others, his wife and kids. But, the most used was the mysterious BlackBerry he kept closest to his fingertips.
His assistant walked into the room.
“May I help you?” Mince asked.
“You have a call on line one.”
“Who is it?”
“He said his name was Nosaj from NASA.”
Why is Nosaj calling me a time like this? “Nosaj? Tell him I’m busy.”
“He said it’s very urgent, sir.”
Mince groaned and sat forward in his chair. “Send him through.”
Mince let the phone ring a few times before answering to the rugged undetectable but very familiar voice of Nosaj.
“Hey, Mince.” The soothing rough voice said in a deliberately slow, taunting, voice. “Remember me? It’s your best pal, Nosaj.”
“What do you want? And why didn’t you call the number you have?”
“Well, I wanted this to be on government record, sir. That’s why. Anyway, what kind of ‘hello’ is this? I missed ya pal.”
“Call the cell number, Nosaj.”
“Listen. I have access to this recording. Whether I let them stand, or erase them is on you. I need a few things from you.”
“What?”
“I’m going to need you to be on call for the rest of this year. We need your help, again.”
“I thought we had agreed that I had done enough.”
“Well, I thought we had agreed that you’d help us wage war on the elites. Now, look, you’ve joined the enemy.”
“What? I don’t know what you’re talking about. It’s not what you think.”
“Oh? What is it?”
“Nosaj, we’re not discussing this here. Maybe we should meet, or something?”
“You’re trying this, again? I told you that we are anonymous. We can continue to communicate as much as you’d like the way we have been, and cooperate, or you know—it’s your choice, Mince. We need you on board. This, for sure, will be last call.”
“I’m running a presidential campaign, here, Nosaj, let’s be realistic. This can’t happen like this – not like before.”
“Is that your final answer?”
The phone went silent. Mince had been through a whole series of issues with these internet and technology hackers. Almost got himself in trouble with the public media numerous times in sex scandals.
He didn’t want to accept, but he knew with them, there really was no other choice. He either accepted or be terrorized and ruined by this enormous army of anonymous internet hackers.
“I can’t do the things I did for you before. I can’t go that far.”
“You’ll go as far as we ask. Besides, crippling Japan and its economy for a day was not that bad. They needed a day in urban wilderness.”
“Their economy has never quite recovered.”
“So? Why should we care? We’re America the great, right?”
“You know that was a breaking of the deal. You told me you’d never put my career in jeopardy.”
“And looky here, you’re running for POTUS. Look, I’m hanging up, Mince. So, am I seizing this recording? Or am I leaving this on the government’s file?”
“Take it.”
XXV
Jason’s Brooklyn Home
“How cool is that, dude? You have deep connections with The Unknowns?” Czyra asked. “You’re Nosaj?”
“Working with the technology I had for one of my previous titles in the NSA, it was my job to combat folks like them, at first. They started off as a major pain in my rear at work. They always interrupted our systems and made our job – what I thought was – unnecessarily difficult.”
“So, what changed everything?”
“While investigating them, I researched them, I learned their cause. One time I decided to help them free the Egyptian people from their government. I began to mingle with them anonymously, as well. I quickly climbed the ranks of the Unknowns when they got their hands on the type of info and technology I had for them.”
“How do you have so much access?”
“I’m the guy who created the government’s current surveillance system. I know the system better than they could ever imagine. Because I was associated with the Unknowns, I designed it with … what I’d call a ground wire.”
“So, they have no clue?”
“’They don’t know half the capabilities of their surveillance systems, Czyra. Not without me.”
“So, now what? Now that we’ve got someone on the inside?”
“We watch, listen, and react accordingly.”
“How so?”
“Mince knows the drill. He’ll be wired, he’ll get us info, he’ll set up places for us to get in, he’ll leave behind clues, he’ll fund us. He’s an old C.I.A. asset; one of the best we’ve ever had. He now is an Unknown asset, as well.” Jason winked. “I’m stepping this organization up to the next level. My own army.”
“Does Mince know you?”
“Only as my alias Nosaj. He’s seen my power. We’ve successfully disabled two countries simultaneously for just under 24 hours, and disrupted them for a total of a month before they both got back on their feet. With him, we can fix this place called America.”
Czyra didn’t know what to feel. This entire time he felt like he was the man fighting a giant in this call for action against the government. Now, he himself, felt like he was on the side of the giant. “Your memory is coming along well.” Czyra said.
“Or, someone’s memory. I’m not sure if I should be using Tameka’s memory card, or not.”
“It’s working. Her, or your, or whoever’s memories are in that card are installing nicely into you and our chase. So, if it ain’t broke…”
“Yeah. But, what if it is broke?” Jason laughed. “Hey, kid, let me remind you that this will get more dangerous, but it’ll be quick, intense, dangerous, and concise. You ready?”
“I’m more ready than ever.”
“OK. We’ve got Mr. Mince wired up for the next Brendenhall meeting. We’re gonna get what they’re talking about in there once and for all.
Brendenhall Hotel
Vancouver, CA
Governor Mince’s nerves pulsed as he rode through the large iron black gates to the Brendenhall Hotel. He adjusted his white button-up shirt so that his silk blue tie fell flush with the edges of the collar on his suit jacket. Once again, he was wired up Nosaj and the Anonymous Unknowns.
He’s never wired up for the major Brendenhall meetings. He didn’t know if there were metal detectors, or if anyone would be scanned for the devices he was wired with. Ultimately, he was paranoid that someone would see his wire. He shuffled his suit and tie, once more.
“Is everything OK?” his driver asked.
“Yeah. Just a bit nervous. Big time things happening around here, these days, good fella.”
He didn’t know what to expect. Surely they were sealed tight. He had no other choice, though. Everything was on the line.
Today was RNC rehearsal. Everyone was to attend. The current administration and the tentative new one. The Brendenhalls were still deciding who would join Mince on Pennsylvania Ave., in the case that he’d be chosen as the next president.
The hotel greeted them with a patch of lawn cut from a paradise. The usual crowd of protesters yelling about “Project F.A.I.T.H.” were just outside of the gate.
Mince looked at his advisor who sat next to him. “They protest what they don’t know. They speculate, and obsess over it. Meanwhile they miss what they really should be fighting for. Operation F.A.I.T.H. is history. But, they say it won’t work.” He popped a piece of gum into his mouth while laughing. “They’re way behind the game. If nothing else, that works into our favor every time.”
His limo pulled up under the grandiose gold-plated pavilion at the front door of the hotel. Mince immediately began scanning for security. The security measures had stopped at the fence and driveway. Everyone at the front door were other members of the meeting. He crawled out of the limo and began greeting his peers.
Each face had a welcoming smile. Each face seemed ready to undertake a task. No one felt the stress that Mince felt. Wedged in between the good guys and the bad guys, his every word may prove to be crucial.
Mr. Brendenhall approached him and shook his hand.
“You know, sir, this may all fall on your performance.”
Mince labored over that thought; it was more than Mr. Brendenhall ever knew.
“The task and message we’re asking you to carry is going to seem like a backtrack to the American people. We have to make sure that you sell this. The initial plan is to get Hilary into that office. She’ll represent change. But, if we can’t sell her enough, you’re up pal. Either way, we need you to play a role in leading us into the birth of the new nation; a beginning to a whole new world. Can you bear that, sir?”
“Absolutely.”
Mince had no clue. He actually leaned towards the fact that he was more inclined to mess everything up, instead.
“Alright, Mr. Mince, let’s get in here and set up. We’ve got a lot to rehearse.”
XXV
Bowie, Maryland
Max and Christine
The news played in the background as Christine fixed dinner in Max’s spacious kitchen. She had fully settled into her, now, four year relationship with Max to the point of boredom. Her daily routine of work, cook, clean, read, and watch her shows became reminiscent of life with Jason. Max worked long hours, too. Not as long as Jason, however. He was an engineer at a local college.
Every-so-often the worry about Jason’s disappearance would creep into her mind. She still hadn’t known what had happened to Jason. A part of her still felt anger towards him, but the fear still lingered. He just disappeared.
She knew Jason loved her, and she had seen a lot of things over the time she was with him.
She learned to suppress the trembles of regret that occasionally rumbled deep within her. It’s just institution of marriage, she thought to herself. You get the same thing every time. Maybe this whole thing was my fault.
Anytime her mind barreled down that path, she’d look for ways to steer her brain towards other activities. This time she chose to indulge, a bit.
She put down the knife she was using to cut her veggies and reached for her phone. Jason’s number was still in there. She hadn’t ever been overly tempted to dial his number until now.
She called.
The phone rang continuously until, finally, the same voicemail picked up – still his voice; still an active phone. That had to mean he was still alive, right?
“Hey, um. It’s me.” She started. “Yeah, uh, I’m sorry about this, but it’s nagging me—“ Her front door opened. “Let me know if you’re still alive. K? Bye.” She hung up, and tossed her phone into her purse.
Arriving back into the kitchen, Max entered through the foyer, and without a word, he walked up the steps.
She sent a chase-shout up the steps as he walked into the bedroom. “Dinner’s almost ready.” The bedroom door closed without a peep from him.
Without hesitation she dropped the knife on the counter. Her chest swelled. She fought the burn in her nasal cavity and eye-well – she wasn’t going to cry about this today.
At 33-years-old, she was too old for this, but too young to sit around and waste her life away to someone she wasn’t even married to.
She wanted to stick her nose back into the business again. She wasn’t as afraid as before. She was far removed and had no connections.
Michael was her only hope.
The muffled sound from Mince’s mic finally cleared enough to hear an old man’s voice talking.
“Who’s that?” Czyra asked. “You recognize that voice?”
“Sounds like the business man I know very well. He owns hotels.”
“Brendenhall!” Czyra jumped and slapped the table. “I’ve been tracking them. That’s the voice. He’s here.”
“OK. Let’s listen in.”
Jason adjusted the controls on his home office control board to crispen the sound and bolster the volume. The man was talking a mile a minute.
“Remember, governor, Fear Acknowledges, Instant Threats, Hit. Faith. That’s how we get their attention. What we have here is a tough agenda. We have to, in this election, go for the knockout blow. For six years now, we’ve had them on their heels. Backing them up against the rope with fear. We gave them a black president – now we give them a woman or a business m
an. Either way, this will continue to represent ‘change’. Like I’ve continued to say, the next 10-20 years is going to challenge all American beliefs but remember, when all else fails use that same formula: Faith Acknowledges, Instant Threats Hit. We’ll always have a copy of that in the back room if you need to refer back to the document as a refresher. Now, start from the top. Let’s see if you’ve got this down.”
The mic in the auditorium squealed a bit before a giggle sound of through the mic.
“Ladies, and gentlemen of America.” Mince began in his moderately loud rehearsal hollering voice. “The time has come to move forward. We’ve got a task to accomplish, and it’s not an easy one. Too many terrorist attacks have happened, too many loopholes exploited. Too many lives lost – senselessly. What we need, here, is a revision. We need to look at things from the standpoint that our founding forefathers did. They didn’t strap themselves to a former idea, they dedicated themselves to an enlightenment. A thought that was revolutionary: ‘freedom, prosperity and moving forward.’ New ideas that were against the popular. Imagine if they would have gotten stuck on Britian’s ideas, then what? It was the best that era had. For them to think they could outdo that government was utterly ridiculous at the time. But, you see, they dared to think outside of the box. They went as far as meeting in secrecy even in the face of the frowning citizens. But, instead of continuing to allow these loopholes to be exploited in us, leaving us in fear of being attacked year in, and year out, how about we rethink our approach. And this is what I bring to you now. Work with me as we revisit the origin of what a real patriot is. A pioneer, like Abraham Lincoln; a leader, like George Washington; an innovator, like Ben Franklin; trailblazers, like Lewis and Clarke; an explorer like Christopher Columbus; and a risk taker like Paul Revere. Let’s show our patriotism by dedicating ourselves to a new American culture. We changed the world, over 200 years ago – let’s show them we can do it again. Let’s stand together freeing ourselves from the false notion that we can not be vulnerable. Some of our most revered American champions, from artists to founders to modern-day sports athletes have expressed the best quality of a perfected craft is the notion of ever-changing; always knowing you could be vulnerable. Making those adjustments where needed. Not getting stuck in the fact that something we decided hundreds of years ago without the lightyears of advancements is unblemished. We need a new foundation built on the same principles. We need your help. Be patriots. Move forward.”