The global media exploded once the Colonel corroborated the confessions that the C.I.A. agents in the video made, and an international incident resulted when the Colombian government arrested the Americans as spies and bound them over for trial. Meanwhile, the blogosphere erupted with posts that the one making the video had to be “The White Death” himself while others claim that these are either fake agents or burned agents sacrificed to save the Agency from political scrutiny in the United States.
The knowledgeable conspiracy bloggers keyed into the Skull & Bones connections, and soon traced the families of these Americans down; they found that their elders held high-ranking posts in the Defense Intelligence Agency, the Central Intelligence Agency, the State Department, the Joint Chiefs of Staff (i.e. the Pentagon’s top echelon), and many current and former Cabinet officials or White House staffers.
In addition to that are current and former Congressmen, Federal Reserve officials, officers at firms like Goldman Sachs, Disney, or Penguin and faculty at Yale, Harvard, Georgetown, Vassar or the more prominent state schools: UC-Berkley, U Chicago, etc. These American spies were well-connected indeed, scions one and all of the Anglo-American Establishment.
One by one, the American spies broke ranks and turned on each other. One by one, each of them tried to buy leniency by fingering their fellows and painting themselves as hapless innocents. One by one, each of them—desperate to get out of their predicament, unable to cope with the knowledge of their abandonment by even their own mothers—contributed to their final doom as they sought some measure of solace, of mercy, from the Colombian government.
Monitoring the situation from afar, the handful of Intelligence community officials running this rogue network met over a secured line for a regular conference call. They antagonized each other, with all of them claiming that the American, British and Israeli members conspired amongst themselves to take out and usurp the South American members. The words became deeds, and soon infighting broke out; within a week, the South American members were all dead, murdered in ambushes or poisoned by assassins.
The American, British and Israeli faction then met to decide on what to do. They agreed that they had to personally handle the matter now, so each flew to Bogota and set up a headquarters there where they received their best cleaners and hitters and briefed them on the situation. They agreed that the Colonel was the one route to “The White Death”.
The endgame finally began.
Friday, October 26, 2012
Friday, October 19, 2012
The South American Incident-09
Ken and his fast friends took up a room in the hostel that night. The group, thinking Ken to be One of Them—part of their class, if not another Agency asset—paid him no mind as he made himself a party facilitator. They failed to notice that he handled their drinks, and as such failed to notice that he slipped a drug to them that would be their undoing: Scolopomine, “The Devil’s Breath”. Within a half-hour, all of them were under its sway and Ken had them trapped. Now Ken would compel the leader of this Intelligence network to come to him.
First, having seized control of his targets’ minds, he compelled them to divulge all. They took turns confessing that they were all C.I.A. agents, assigned to South America as part of an operation to seek out and identify a figure known as “The White Death” here. Unable to resist Ken’s commands, they explained that this guy had interfered with a long-running operation that the Agency uses to finance the most important—and unpolitic—operations that would not receive Congressional approval.
Second, they told Ken in detail of their own connections—familial, fraternal, social—to their superiors, and how this was a milk-run assignment meant to give them some easy field experience before being rotated into the fast track towards the top of the Agency. The men were all members of Skull & Bones, while the women were daughters of Bonesmen betrothed to junior Bonesmen, and so they felt no real danger despite being in the middle of Narco country. If anything went wrong, all that they had to do was hit a panic button and an evacuation team would be on its way from the Embassy.
Third, they went on to brag about how this would all turn out to their advantage in the end. This “White Death”, as they explained, had so cleaned out the region’s criminal syndicates that their superiors would now be able to install loyal puppets throughout the network and rebuild it into a far more profitable and effective machine that would allow American influence to remain dominant here for at least another 25 years, and probably 50 or more. Killing all of those gangsters and government officials meant that, after some short-term disruptions, instead of getting rid of now-useless locals themselves all they had to do was to groom and install new tools to keep the game going.
Ken recorded all of this, filming the entire conversation. Then he put them to sleep, and while they slept he uploaded the entire thing to YouTube, Vimeo, and other social media video sites using a series of backup accounts as well as a proxy server to mask tracking back his location before it was too late. Ken knew that the Scolopomine would induce amnesia in these poor suckers, so his identity was safe from C.I.A. identification for now. Then he sent a text message to the Colonel where to pick them up; he did.
First, having seized control of his targets’ minds, he compelled them to divulge all. They took turns confessing that they were all C.I.A. agents, assigned to South America as part of an operation to seek out and identify a figure known as “The White Death” here. Unable to resist Ken’s commands, they explained that this guy had interfered with a long-running operation that the Agency uses to finance the most important—and unpolitic—operations that would not receive Congressional approval.
Second, they told Ken in detail of their own connections—familial, fraternal, social—to their superiors, and how this was a milk-run assignment meant to give them some easy field experience before being rotated into the fast track towards the top of the Agency. The men were all members of Skull & Bones, while the women were daughters of Bonesmen betrothed to junior Bonesmen, and so they felt no real danger despite being in the middle of Narco country. If anything went wrong, all that they had to do was hit a panic button and an evacuation team would be on its way from the Embassy.
Third, they went on to brag about how this would all turn out to their advantage in the end. This “White Death”, as they explained, had so cleaned out the region’s criminal syndicates that their superiors would now be able to install loyal puppets throughout the network and rebuild it into a far more profitable and effective machine that would allow American influence to remain dominant here for at least another 25 years, and probably 50 or more. Killing all of those gangsters and government officials meant that, after some short-term disruptions, instead of getting rid of now-useless locals themselves all they had to do was to groom and install new tools to keep the game going.
Ken recorded all of this, filming the entire conversation. Then he put them to sleep, and while they slept he uploaded the entire thing to YouTube, Vimeo, and other social media video sites using a series of backup accounts as well as a proxy server to mask tracking back his location before it was too late. Ken knew that the Scolopomine would induce amnesia in these poor suckers, so his identity was safe from C.I.A. identification for now. Then he sent a text message to the Colonel where to pick them up; he did.
Friday, October 12, 2012
The South American Incident-08
Ken hung up, and as he disassembled and stored his kit he maintained his awareness. Soon he slipped out of his concealed location near the power line and stepped back inside an adjacent café, got into a storage room and did a quick-change. He came out looking like a college-aged backpacker on a long holiday, complete with backpack, and took a back table in the café.
Ken’s disarming smile and warm, slightly naïve demeanor in this persona made him invisible to the locals as well as most of the travelers taking in the café’s array of food and drink; its proximity to the power line made it a local wi-fi hot-spot, hence its popularity with travelers. Taking up a cup of coffee, Ken completed his disguise by pulling a tablet out of the pack—the same one that now concealed his lineman’s kit—and appeared to all observing that he’s either blogging or plotting his next stage of his grand tour.
The news feeds—English, Spanish and Portuguese alike—all talked about the massive regional scandals involving “The White Death” and his crusade against the criminal syndicates and the corrupt in government throughout South America. Central American news outlets echoed their South American counterparts, but so far North American—specifically, American—outlets said little or nothing. Only the international newswires carried any significant information, and that was repeats from South American news outlets.
Ken went to the many sites and feeds for the alternative press, and there he found information beyond the bland narratives of the mainstream outlets. Watching a few interviews, while enjoying his coffee and a light lunch, Ken got all that he needed to know about who stood to lose if “The White Death” was not taken down: a long-running inter-agency intelligence network, including agencies from the U.S., Israel, the U.K., Canada and all of Central and South America.
“I’ve really stepped into it now.” Ken thought, “But there has to be a central group running this network, spread throughout the network’s operational area.”
After finishing his meal, Ken decamped to a nearby hostel, where he met some visiting students from Canada and the United States. He ingratiated himself with them, and accompanied them around the small town near Colombia’s border with both Brazil and Peru, saying “There’s safety in numbers, you know, and this is Narco territory.” The handful of students agreed.
While out, he charmed the guys and enthralled the girls amongst them. Ken sized up that they were, much as his own old friends were once, mostly middle or upper-class suburbanites from schools of prominence- at least, regionally. He was not disappointed: two from Yale, one from Harvard, and the last from Georgetown. He spun a tale of attending the University of Chicago, studying under students of Leo Straus, and taking some time away before taking up a position at a law firm in that same city; this got their approval, and that is how Ken knew that they were all actually C.I.A. agents.
Ken’s disarming smile and warm, slightly naïve demeanor in this persona made him invisible to the locals as well as most of the travelers taking in the café’s array of food and drink; its proximity to the power line made it a local wi-fi hot-spot, hence its popularity with travelers. Taking up a cup of coffee, Ken completed his disguise by pulling a tablet out of the pack—the same one that now concealed his lineman’s kit—and appeared to all observing that he’s either blogging or plotting his next stage of his grand tour.
The news feeds—English, Spanish and Portuguese alike—all talked about the massive regional scandals involving “The White Death” and his crusade against the criminal syndicates and the corrupt in government throughout South America. Central American news outlets echoed their South American counterparts, but so far North American—specifically, American—outlets said little or nothing. Only the international newswires carried any significant information, and that was repeats from South American news outlets.
Ken went to the many sites and feeds for the alternative press, and there he found information beyond the bland narratives of the mainstream outlets. Watching a few interviews, while enjoying his coffee and a light lunch, Ken got all that he needed to know about who stood to lose if “The White Death” was not taken down: a long-running inter-agency intelligence network, including agencies from the U.S., Israel, the U.K., Canada and all of Central and South America.
“I’ve really stepped into it now.” Ken thought, “But there has to be a central group running this network, spread throughout the network’s operational area.”
After finishing his meal, Ken decamped to a nearby hostel, where he met some visiting students from Canada and the United States. He ingratiated himself with them, and accompanied them around the small town near Colombia’s border with both Brazil and Peru, saying “There’s safety in numbers, you know, and this is Narco territory.” The handful of students agreed.
While out, he charmed the guys and enthralled the girls amongst them. Ken sized up that they were, much as his own old friends were once, mostly middle or upper-class suburbanites from schools of prominence- at least, regionally. He was not disappointed: two from Yale, one from Harvard, and the last from Georgetown. He spun a tale of attending the University of Chicago, studying under students of Leo Straus, and taking some time away before taking up a position at a law firm in that same city; this got their approval, and that is how Ken knew that they were all actually C.I.A. agents.
Friday, October 5, 2012
The South American Incident-07
Ken wired his spoofer into the landline. He scanned his surroundings for hostiles as the device did its work, and when it finished its work a light tone told Ken that he had a secure connection. Using an old telephone lineman’s kit, he called Marisol.
“Hello?”
“Marisol, it’s Ken.”
“Ken? The telecom company’s number came up on the Caller I.D. reader. How-“
“You know that I won’t answer that question, so don’t finish it. Where I am, and how I got to you, is better kept to myself.”
“Why the secrecy? You can trust me.”
“You, yes, but I don’t trust the environment we’re in Marisol. I’m staying hidden for your protection far more than for my own.”
“Considering all that’s said about you in the press, especially online, I find that hard to believe. You have no less than a score of fan pages on Facebook alone.”
“That is part of the problem.” Ken said, “Your husband told me that I’d attracted the attention of more than a few spooks, especially the C.I.A., and South America is regarded internationally as the backyard of the U.S. so I expect some backlash from the Agency.”
Just then, Ken heard another phone pick up.
“You would be correct.” The Colonel said, “My contacts tell me that American officials with State Department credentials are all over the region talking with prominent government officers, civil and military alike. Others, without diplomatic cover, are known to be talking to what’s left of the big syndicates.”
“So far, you’ve not been noticed in American media, but that could change.” Marisol said.
Ken chuckled. “The regional Station Chiefs are arguing over if I’m a useful asset or not, which is why things quieted down.”
“You think so?” Marisol said.
“No, he is right.” The Colonel said, “I told the other girls to get beyond American reach.”
"That’s difficult.” Ken said, “There isn’t much space left in the world where the Agency has no assets handy to do what it wants, due to its long-standing relationships with allied agencies as well as a lack of friendly places to go.”
“True, my friend, which is why they’re going to Russia. I have an old friend there that owes me a favor, so they will be well-cared for there.”
Marisol gasped.
“Cold War remnants have their uses, my dear.”
Ken chuckled.
“So, that—again—just leaves the little one.” Ken said, “Marisol, Colonel, I would advise you to prepare for her abduction.”
“What do you mean?” Marisol said.
“The real power in this scheme will come forth now to attempt to fix things himself. He will see you two as the weak links, and will get to you through your daughter. He will use the best men available and he has plenty of quality operatives; he will get to her.”
“What will you do?” The Colonel said.
“Track her, find him, kill them all and bring your daughter home to you- as I promised you.”
“Hello?”
“Marisol, it’s Ken.”
“Ken? The telecom company’s number came up on the Caller I.D. reader. How-“
“You know that I won’t answer that question, so don’t finish it. Where I am, and how I got to you, is better kept to myself.”
“Why the secrecy? You can trust me.”
“You, yes, but I don’t trust the environment we’re in Marisol. I’m staying hidden for your protection far more than for my own.”
“Considering all that’s said about you in the press, especially online, I find that hard to believe. You have no less than a score of fan pages on Facebook alone.”
“That is part of the problem.” Ken said, “Your husband told me that I’d attracted the attention of more than a few spooks, especially the C.I.A., and South America is regarded internationally as the backyard of the U.S. so I expect some backlash from the Agency.”
Just then, Ken heard another phone pick up.
“You would be correct.” The Colonel said, “My contacts tell me that American officials with State Department credentials are all over the region talking with prominent government officers, civil and military alike. Others, without diplomatic cover, are known to be talking to what’s left of the big syndicates.”
“So far, you’ve not been noticed in American media, but that could change.” Marisol said.
Ken chuckled. “The regional Station Chiefs are arguing over if I’m a useful asset or not, which is why things quieted down.”
“You think so?” Marisol said.
“No, he is right.” The Colonel said, “I told the other girls to get beyond American reach.”
"That’s difficult.” Ken said, “There isn’t much space left in the world where the Agency has no assets handy to do what it wants, due to its long-standing relationships with allied agencies as well as a lack of friendly places to go.”
“True, my friend, which is why they’re going to Russia. I have an old friend there that owes me a favor, so they will be well-cared for there.”
Marisol gasped.
“Cold War remnants have their uses, my dear.”
Ken chuckled.
“So, that—again—just leaves the little one.” Ken said, “Marisol, Colonel, I would advise you to prepare for her abduction.”
“What do you mean?” Marisol said.
“The real power in this scheme will come forth now to attempt to fix things himself. He will see you two as the weak links, and will get to you through your daughter. He will use the best men available and he has plenty of quality operatives; he will get to her.”
“What will you do?” The Colonel said.
“Track her, find him, kill them all and bring your daughter home to you- as I promised you.”
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