COP

by Jim Magwood

  Jeff had had his secret computer systems searching the Internet every minute of every day for weeks looking for a hole into the Fed. They were linked around the world with major financial traders, government state houses, businesses, stock and bond traders and, of course, banks. Jeff was looking for any one person who would make a mistake and show him a way in—just one. And this week he had found three.

  A trader from a German bank had apparently taken a disc of information home to spin on his home laptop. He had made an Internet search during which he collected a minor virus which attached to the material he added to the disc and which he then installed on his office computer the next morning. Which, of course, was just what Jeff’s system had been looking for and which he used to download the man’s passwords and trading activity and to create a link into the big Fed in the sky.

  A banker in the San Francisco bank of District Twelve used his office computer to research prices of the new Mercedes he had been considering and stayed on the open line just long enough for Jeff’s little toys to find him and sneak back down his line. No virus on this one. Just a line Jeff could use whenever the banker dialed into the Fed. Piggybacking was so much fun.

  The Federal Reserve bank in Boston needed to clear funds for a Basel/Hong Kong/Boston transfer, a relatively small transfer that took place at least a dozen times each month. In this case, though, nobody knew that a silent code rode through the ether along with the funds, attaching itself not to the computers themselves, but into the minute spaces between digits in the fund transfers, a process called steganography by the latest breed of geeks. The code told the receiving computers to immediately send a notice to Jeff’s system by way of a number of untraceable cutouts giving him the next week’s security codes to enable use of the Fed system.

  When Jeff got the notices of what he had received, he knew he was ready to begin. Let the games begin, he thought. “Are you ready to rumble?” Oh, yes, he chuckled.

  The first thing he did was to send a message purportedly from the Federal banks in Districts Six through Twelve, basically the western half of the country, to all the member banks in those Districts. It told the banks that because of a suspected computer hacking attempt all electronic fund activities should be halted until they were given an all-clear signal. They should expect the signal within approximately an hour.

  Many of the banks simply put their activities on hold and forgot to check back for the all-clear signal. Check clearing, money transfers, clearance of deposits for immediate usage and most other banking activities simply ground to a halt, as did the people and businesses relying on them.

  The next thing Jeff did was send “non-sufficient funds” notices, purportedly from the Federal Clearing House banks in the eastern Districts, back down the wires to all the banks that had processed checks, and, ultimately, to the customers who had received and sent the checks. Checks for groceries in amounts of $25-100 were fairly easily rectified when they were reported. But six and seven figure checks for commercial supplies brought deliveries to a grinding halt, caused frantic credit and financial managers to cut credit lines and brought major businesses to their knees.

  The third thing Jeff did was to tell the Treasury to slow down the printing of money because the Fed did not need it in the quantities they had expected. The Treasury Department prints money as the Fed presents their plans, then sells the money to the Fed at a “manufacturing cost,” basically about four cents per bill for paper currency. The Fed then puts the bills into use through the network of banks.

  When the supply of paper bills was suddenly reduced, everyone from bankers to tellers to delivery trucks to warehousemen came to a halt. Even a blip in the money flow caused thousands of disruptions down the lines and hundreds of phone calls and e-mail messages back up the lines.

  It took Jeff almost three days to put all his plans in action but the attack reverberated for weeks. While no money actually disappeared, the disruptions were horrendous. While some systems and processes were quickly put back in place, everyone from the Federal Reserve banks themselves down through the local banks to the businesses and individuals that the flow of funds touched in some way panicked, even for moments, and economic movement almost ceased. People wouldn’t write checks or use credit cards for fear of more NSF notices; retailers wouldn’t let them for fear of getting bad funds. Banks were afraid to clear funds they had always handled in the past. The Fed couldn’t put out enough memos and explanations to calm the fears and they certainly couldn’t satisfy the politicians ranting and screaming for answers, many of whom had had their own funds, personal or political, mingled.

  CHAPTER 34

  “Paul, you can’t do this all by yourself. Do you understand that? The pressures are too great. The influences you’re up against are too powerful. You can fight and fight, but you’re going to likely end up getting hurt.”

  Paul sat quietly for several moments before replying. “Steve, there’s basically no place for me to turn. If I go to the department, they’ll put me at a desk and it’ll be a forever struggle to get back to service. I’ll lose all the trust I need to do my job. I don’t want to go medical. That’s just not an option.”

  “Is the department really that tough, Paul?”

  “No one will admit it, Steve, but no police department is going to put someone on the street that can’t be expected to run with the big dogs. Lives depend on what a guy’s going to do, or not do.”

  “So there’s no one there you can confide in, talk to?”

  “So far, everyone’s been good to me. They all gathered around when I had the incident in the alley. It was explainable, and the other guys, and the Sergeant, were good and gave me the space to get over it. It happens often. Guys have a trauma and the others help him get over it. But this? This continual fear, if you will. Of things that go bump in the night? I can’t expect the others to hang on when I can’t lift my own end day after day.”

  “So, time for you to hang it up?”

  Paul’s head lifted quickly at that, and he stared at the pastor hard. Didn’t he understand at all? Was his mind so deep into church that he couldn’t see real life? Then he dropped his head again, wondering if he should just leave.

  “You don’t like that idea, I can see that. But Paul, if you don’t talk it out you’re not going to live it out. It will grow on you every day, more and more, and will finally crush you. You’re not in a regular office job like some of the other guys where they can exist by hiding. Maybe even crawl into a bottle. Your job won’t allow that. It’s too strenuous. Too much pressure. Moments of panic and chaos alternating with dull office time. You’ve told me that enough times. You’ve got to find something to do to analyze what’s happening to you and to relieve the pressure—or you’re going to pop some day. Probably soon.”

  Paul sat quietly again, not saying anything. His mind was whirling on one hand, but felt stuck in glue on the other. Ideas wouldn’t come to the top. He knew Steve was right, but he didn’t know how to answer him.

  “Paul, can you talk with me? Trust me? I may not have all the answers, but I can listen. I’m not here to judge you or put you down. You know that, I think. I’m just here to be a friend, and maybe a confidant. I can give you some counsel if you want. I can lead you through some Scripture that might help. I can listen, Paul. I can do that.”

  After a long silence, Paul finally asked, “Why me, Steve? Why me?”

  “Explain that, Paul.”

  “I’ve been trying to live decently. No drugs or drinking. I just get up every morning and try to pull my weight. So why is this affecting me? I thought I got over losing Diane okay. Sure it still hurts, and it even knocks me down at times. But this fear of the dark stuff. Where did it come from? Some psychological thing from fear about the kids? I just don’t know, Steve.”

  “Well, I suppose it could be something like that. But, does anything else hit you at those times? Do the ‘fears’ come after some other thing takes place? Are they regular, like every day at fiv
e or something?”

  “No, they just show up whenever. No pattern to them. Like with Sylvia the other day. Just out of the blue. I told you about the time in the alley, right? Well, I could see a fear coming up from that. That would be normal. But this is just happening without any provocation I can notice. And that time, the feelings had started quite a while before.”

  The two men talked for another hour before Paul had to get back to the street. Nothing had come up that even started a trail to unravel his problem. Steve said he would look up some material in some old counseling books, and that he would call a friend in clinical practice to see if he could get any ideas. The men prayed together and Steve reminded Paul to call him whenever anything happened.

  Paul sat out in his car for quite a while trying to think through what he and Steve had discussed, but finally gave up, started the car and drove back downtown.

  It was Paul’s turn for a rare weekend off. With the addition of Sylvia to the team, the three of them had been able to do some rotating of weekends and get some well deserved R&R. Paul had left home after clearing his share of paperwork Friday night and had driven to the Ocean Inn, a place he and Diane had gotten away to occasionally.

  Saturday he actually slept late, then wandered down to the restaurant for some long overdue pork chops, eggs and biscuits. He read the newspaper while he ate, trying to catch up on what was happening around him. Shootings; car wrecks; violence in the Middle East; threats from North Korea; another senator caught with more than his fingers in the till. Why am I reading this? he asked himself. Is this what I took a weekend off for? Sure is spoiling the steak. Finally, he just wadded the paper up and went for a walk along the shore.

  He and Diane used to take long walks on the beach, playing with the kids, climbing out onto the rocks, kicking water and sand at each other, simply enjoying their few hours together.

  Jared had usually been fairly quiet, mainly talking with Paul about “man” things and trying to express deep ideas and questions. He was most often a loner at school and quiet at home, but had good grades and was developing as a fair athlete.

  Sarah was the talkative one, usually happy and bubbling with news and ideas, and was adventurous. She was the one who demanded they go to different restaurants and break out of all their old, moldy food habits. “Dad, you’re not going to just have a steak again, are you? At least try the sushi. And we must go to that Vietnamese place down the street for dinner. No, I don’t know what it’s like, but…”

  Paul remembered when they had rented two movies and picked up a huge pizza, taken them back to his and Diane’s room, and had started to pig out on both. The first movie was Chariots of Fire, an old black and white, and before long the pizza had been forgotten. By the end of the film, tears were gently flowing, the kids went to their rooms early and they all slept.

  The next night, they watched the second movie, To Dance with the White Dog, and again tears were flowing. “Dad, how did we manage to pick two tear jerkers?” But they all agreed they were two wonderful films, even if they did eat cold pizza.

  They never spoke about the films again because two months later Diane got sick, and one month after that she was gone.

  This was the first time Paul had come back to the place where they had vacationed, but he didn’t take the same lodge and he didn’t visit the same places. He stayed in a little motel down the road from their place, and he just walked. The movie theater didn’t attract him; the food was just food; he just walked. Before he realized where he was, he was so far down the beach he couldn’t even see the town behind him. The surf wasn’t too loud, and that’s when he began to talk with himself as he walked on.

  “You can’t be serious. They were all cancelled?”

  “Yep. That’s what I was told just a minute ago. Was talking with my buddy over there and he said he missed a flight he thought he was on, and a meeting he was supposed to be at, ‘cause he didn’t get a ticket. But he said he had the proof in a memo from the travel group that they had booked it. But, no ticket at the last minute.”

  “Jake, I see an evil look in your eye and if you start to laugh…”

  “Sylvia, I’m not laughing. Well, maybe chuckling a little? Snickering? But, I’m not laughing. See how serious I am."

  “But you said that everyone had tickets cancelled?” Paul asked.

  “Sure enough. That’s what he said. Said a couple of guys noticed it a day or so ago but figured it was just mistakes. Then each day more folks missed their trips and they started looking hard, and it was everyone. Top to bottom; short term and long. Planes, restaurants, hotels, meeting rooms. I guess just about anything that had been booked at all. Just gone from the records. Some of the folks who had already received their tickets and itineraries went to the terminals and found out the reservations had been cancelled. Either they couldn’t go then or had to book immediate replacements at bigger costs.”

  “And nobody knows why? What happened?”

  “Nope. No records, and no trails of what took place. He said it looks like someone went into the databases and just wiped stuff out. And, left no trail as far as they can see at this point.”

  “Jake, you look like you’re laughing again.”

  “I’m not. I’m not. It’s just something I ate.”

  “Then why do you have that smile on your face?”

  “Something I ate?”

  “Okay. Okay. So what are they doing about it? Any leads at all?”

  “No. Not that he knew of. They’re all just scrambling to pick up the pieces, get new bookings. He said that all the bookings and billings for the trips already past are gone, too. No billings in the system; no payments going out. Department’s saving all kinds of money this year. Going to try to get it in their performance reviews to get some raises.” And with that, Jake burst out with pent up, almost uncontrolled laughing and had to turn away from his partners. They looked at each other and then Paul and Sylvia burst out laughing, too.

  After the emotions calmed down, they took stock of the seriousness of someone being able to break into supposedly secure government systems and do this kind of damage, but remained without any ideas that might help. Since it wasn’t to be a case for them, they fairly quickly started back on their own projects, with just a quiet chuckle creeping out every once in a while.

  They had been made aware of the Federal Reserve chaos, but since the FBI and the Fed were handling that, they had no interest. School fires and shootings of citizens took much more priority.

  Jeff Sheldon had been building lists of many of the government leaders for months, senators, judges, political hacks of all stripes, and was ready to start his next phase of bringing down the government. If this plan went off well, he knew there would be many in governmental circles who wouldn’t be able to face each other, and certainly not be able to trust anyone they had to deal with. In addition, if he could spread the plan far enough, he knew the public would be looking to crush any politician they could get their hands on. Unless, he thought, they were passing out money. Then the sheep would accept anything. ‘Lead me down the path, Judas. I’m yours.’

  It had taken Jeff a tremendous amount of searching to find things that he could link to all the politicians he was targeting, but his drive, and hate, had paid off. There were times that he had wanted to release some of the material as he found it, but he had forced himself to slow down. He wanted it all to hit at close to the same time so it would be so explosive nobody could stop it. And nobody would likely have the time to go after each of the items to refute them. There would be too many.

  He knew that eventually most of them would be officially cleared and closed, but just having the rumors out there would have investigators running like blood hounds—and the public would never stop the screaming. There was always someone out there that wanted to point fingers at someone else, especially at the government. It seemed they had nothing better to do in their pitiful little lives than to search for dirt and spread it around. Scream about how the
y had been wronged, that nobody in power would ever listen to the right way to do things, especially their way.

  Of course, they were probably right, most of them, but it still enabled someone like Jeff to start wildfires. The public kept the fires lit.

  The first target was Representative Becky Hammer of Kansas. With a few computer strokes, Jeff was able to transfer an even one hundred and fifty thousand dollars from an offshore account he controlled into Ms. Hammer’s political bank account, then from that into a personal account in her name in a bank in Kansas City. He then made six withdrawals from the account totaling over twenty thousand dollars. A simple e-mail from a blind account informed a reporter in her city of the possibilities of “irregularities” and got him sniffing.

  The next target was Senator Ralph Dodge from West Virginia. In this case, Jeff simply sent messages to a dozen news beagles about the good senator’s immoral dealings with several Senate pages, some under age and some simply “forced” in order to preserve their jobs. Jeff proclaimed himself to be one of the pages and, with many tears and much righteous anger, told how she had been abused for more than a year and that she couldn’t keep silent any longer. Too many other innocent pages were suffering and she simply had to get help for them.

  Three more congressmen received the same kinds of accusations. The e-mail messages, though, were sent to different news people so the immediate investigations didn’t cross. Jeff knew the media would be so anxious to work the stories and investigations themselves, and to get scoops on their rivals, that the stories would hit from many sources, in many stages of investigation, before anyone realized others had the same kind of stories.

  The list went on and on. An Under-Secretary of State was shown to have personal e-mails coming from agents in countries very much in favor of the U.S. being targeted for bombings. Two political action advocates from well known educational groups suddenly had e-mails broadcast to news people across the country that “they” had sent to each other and the leaders of the groups laying out detailed plans to control the minds of both school children and the majority of teachers. And, amazingly, replies from the various leaders accepting the plans and urging rapid forward movement were also included.