Chapter 48 -- FDLCCTBHFKJUIAQOEFEZEAIFD
Daniel Hale sat at a computer, one of several on the long folding table they
had set up in one of the upstairs bedrooms. The house, a modest middle-class
house had been rented some months earlier when the operation plans were being
finalized. It was never unattended, so even if the landlord or anyone else
came in they would no be able to tamper with the computers.
While the computers would not arouse suspicion, the weapons might, if they
were found. To this end the house, and several others scattered about the area,
had been furnished with hiding places - large wardrobes, storage cabinets, and
dressers and chests in the bedrooms - holding the weapons. Large
supplies of ammunition as it would be a one-time affair, with the equipment
spirited out of the area when it was over.
His platoon, as they called it, comprised forty-four men divided into squads
of four to six. They were on the streets most days, unarmed, keeping a close
watch on their quarry. He was confident in their chances of hitting them all
with no problems.
Thomas Gibbs came into the room. He had been downstairs, waiting for a patrol
to return. The men, divided among the rented houses, went out daily in pairs,
surveilling the target areas and the neighborhoods where they were quartered,
looking for any signs of trouble. Four of the men living in the house with
them alternated patrol duties.
"How's it going?" he asked.
"Good as can be, so far," Daniel replied. "It looks like all we have to do is
wait for the signal. Everything is really calm out there - they've done a
good job of making the enemy think they're having an easy time of it."
"That's good," said Thomas. "It looks good outside as well. Since the orders
to the freelancers to stand down, it looks like they all have. That affair
out in Tennessee didn't involve any of our affiliates, as far as I can tell -
looks like it was strictly a suppression operation by the feds."
"Yeah, it looks like the resistance was just one of those things that rarely
happens when they do that - they picked the wrong target and got burned."
"And now they've got no telling how much manpower going after the handful that
got away. This should be interesting to watch, if we can get any reports, on
how much resources they're using."
"We should get something in the next day or two." said Daniel. "They've
admitted there's a manhunt on. Of course they don't realize that's useful
information to us, but our sources are probably better. There's hardly a
group of any size that we don't have some contact with."
He spread a large sheet of paper, taken from a stack of old-fashioned computer
paper with perforated edges. Daniel was an older man, working in a computer
operations center when he was younger. The large pages with alternating
horizontal bars of green and white had been used for printing reports on high-
speed printers. There were always a few wasted pages at the end, and he saved
them for drawing. The younger Thomas kidded him about it, suggesting they
might be collector's items one day. Now he was drawing on the side with the
bars, which facilitated drawing lines and boxes.
"OK," he said, "here are our nine squads. The latest report is on you computer,
by the way. It's no more than an hour old."
Thomas rolled his chair over to view his screen.
"Of the nine squads," Daniel said, "seven have no reservations at all, even if
we got the go signal today. The other two actually don't either, but I
suspect if any of us are likely to have nerve issues, they might. Of course,
once you go in, there's no time for that to affect you - either you go or you
don't. And a few more days of what we've been seeing, there won't be any
hesitation. Between the anger and the realization of what will happen if
nothing is done, we're all committed beyond recall."
"You mean the suppression activities?" asked Thomas. "Yeah, it is a little
spooky that it's going on with almost no incidents at all. That one out in
Tennessee the other day was apparently someone who didn't get the message, or
ignored it. I would suspect the enemy are congratulating themselves on how
easy it's been."
"We hope so," Daniel said. "The less suspicion they have that something may be
going on, the more complete the surprise."
"What do you expect the day to be?"
"Well, since it's dependent largely on feedback from us, I'd guess we're
looking at the August recess, probably late July but not the end. Some of our
targets may leave early, and we want them here. We're waiting for feedback on
the more important targets, at least, to see if they're in a habit of leaving
before the last day. And as slow as they are this year it could happen."
The League had a few operatives among congressional staff, mostly with members
of the opposition but a few who had managed to get close members of the ruling
party - just close enough to be aware of their activities and plans. That
information would go into the mix with the other intelligence.
Together they looked over the diagrams on the paper. Since the strikes would be
completely unanticipated, the news outlets would have no information for at
least an hour or more afterward, since they would be relying completely on
interviews with witnesses. Their own observers would have what they needed to
assess the operation and its outcome.
Those observers were a corps assembled months before from several freeholds.
They were already in the city, surveilling the expected sites, seeking vantage
points for observing the action and if possible recording some of it. Not
that any risks would be incurred - any documentation would be opportunistic.
Like the strike force the two dozen or so of them were installed at several
rented residences, spending most of their time in the areas where the action
was expected.
They would obviously be picked up by surveillance cameras, but like the strike
teams they were disguised and left behind no physical traces. And if their
assumed identities became known, they would lead to the various dead ends that
had been engineered by the ones who created the personas. And if their true
identities were ever discovered they would also point to a dry well. In any
case, it would take time, more time than was available for the situation to at
least become stable - with the government at the table.
Most of the strike teams were already stalking their targets daily, ensuring
they could be at the kill zone. It would take a considerable disruption in
the routine of one or more of them to make the hit and a clean getaway
impossible. There was little more to do than maintain the stability of the
situation and be alert for any changes.
"Incoming message," said Daniel. "Let's take a look."
The message was in an email, which while on a server owned and controlled by
the League would be subject to interception and so was encoded with an
unbreakable cipher. The only such cipher known to exist, in fact, but one
that required care in use.
"I always wonder if it will work," he said. The message displayed on the screen looked like
rows of apparently random characters, which was precisely what it was. The
key with which it was encrypted was unique, and existed in only two places -
the place it was sent from and the authorized recipient. Daniel inserted a
USB drive into the a slot and waited for it to mount. When it did he quickly
copied a file from it, then unmounted and removed it.
"Here we go," he said, pasting the key into a box on the screen, beside a box
containing the message. A third box displayed the deciphered message. Had he
not selected the correct key the result would have been more gibberish.
"Well," he said, "barring an abort, we're on for the twenty-seventh."
The twenty-seventh of August was a Friday - peak activity in the city. Most
of the workforce celebrating the weekend, restaurants and bars would be packed.
The conditions would work for them or against them, but unless something went
very wrong they would work in their favor. The planning had anticipated being
the busiest day of the week, and the crowds and traffic that would be present.
With total surprise, there was little chance of being thwarted.
In addition, there were plans for the police. During the countdown to the
start of the operation a number of diversions would have drawn as much as
possible of the police resources away from the areas where the strikes would
occur. Beginning with a bomb threat at a location certain to draw a large
contingent of police, a few calls into the 911 system that would take more -
in addition to the usual weekend crime - and a considerable amount of police
resources would be tied up. And finally, word of a planned illegal
demonstration by white supremacists at the capitol would be leaked to Antifa,
guaranteeing a large crowd in response. That would draw more cops to back up
the capitol police, if necessary.
This last amused both Daniel and Thomas. Although dissident activity had been
low for the past several years, due to the despondence of the opposition, but
the trigger phrases never failed.
"White supremacist," said Daniel. "You would almost think they believe that
they exist."
"Perhaps they do," Thomas replied. "A lot of them say things so often they may
lose the ability to separate reality from fantasy. Like some actors who've
spent their lives impersonating other people, acting out events, they confuse
the real with the imaginary. And considering that so many of them are to some
degree mentally ill, or have been indoctrinated so well, that they begin to
believe such things."
"Well," Daniel said, "it will be interesting what they're saying next Friday."
"That's certain," said Thomas. "It's going to, for better or worse, a
different world for a lot of people."