A Mighty Fortress

by H. A. Covington

  “Well, obviously, the Feds understood their informers wouldn’t always be logging in from the same computer every time, but they also knew that we would set up our own black ops cyber-rats and we would occasionally be able to get hold of a rat’s username and password, through persuasion or otherwise. Officially, Homeland Security doesn’t demand an informant’s real name, but they want some way to try and keep track of who’s using their system so that if something heavy happens online they can at least try to trace whoever did it. When you log into the Hatecrime Hotline website, their site software is good enough to ping through any telnetting or firewalls or dummy IPS you may have set up, and read the original IP address of the source computer, the one the informer is actually using. That IP address is logged on the Federal server each time, and can be looked at by an account manager or administrator. Okay, here’s where I lose track of the technology, but what this program of Doctor Doom’s does is, once you can get into the informer’s account, it logs you on as an administrator, with admin privileges to the account. You can read the IP address of the source computers for all the times the account address has been accessed.”

  “That still wouldn’t help if the rat is smart and he uses a public computer, or even his own with a dynamically assigned IP every time,” said Cody, fascinated. “And how do we get into the account in the first place without Newman’s username or password?”

  “Okay, here’s where it gets really techie,” she said eagerly. “I suppose you know that under the Patriot Act, the Feds no longer allow any real erasure of computer files, and every single keystroke is now recorded in various hidden files all over the hard drive, mostly in the index.dat file with Microsoft operating systems, a special hidden sub-registry in Linux, etcetera. Nothing anyone does on a PC ever really disappears. It always leaves a record so nosy secret police can grab your hard drive and see what evil thoughts someone has been thinking.”

  “Right,” said Cody.

  “That means that everything on a computer’s drive can be recovered if you know how, and Doc Doom knows how,” the girl went on with a sly smile. “I’m willing to bet that Mr. Hose Nose Newman is a lazy-ass who used the computer in his office at school to do some of his ratting. A computer which is on the school’s T1 line, with a static IP address. If we can get onto his school computer, and it’s been used to access the Hatecrime Hotline site, this program of Doc’s can actually use this admin override I told you about and read what’s called a shadow, and replicate the last log-in to that site. So we may not be able to come up with anything with Newman’s actual name on it, but we can fish out his username and password, examine his account, and by the fact that we got in, we will be able to demonstrate that his IP address is on the government server. Unless the Tooth Fairy has been sneaking into his office and using his computer to snitch on people, that should convince Bobby Bells to let us whack the bastard.”

  “It should indeed,” said Cody, pulling into the apartment complex’s parking lot.

  Inside the apartment, they found Bobby Bells and Lieutenant Joe Dortmunder from the brigade command waiting for them. Dortmunder got down to business. “I’m glad you two comrades have become known to one another, even if it was due to an operational accident,” he said. “Volunteer Brock, Nightshade suggested your participation in this project because you would provide a credible companion and cover for her in a situation wherein a couple might function more effectively than a single female, or male. I trust you have no problem in assisting her in some intelligence gathering work?”

  “No, sir,” replied Cody. “I’d like to take on such an assignment.”

  “Good,” he said gravely. “The first thing you need to know is that there is something big coming down the pike. Very major indeed. I can’t tell you what it is, but it means that we’re going to have to really start pulling in some major intelligence about the activities of anti-Party and anti-independence groups and elements here in the Northwest that up until now we’ve only considered to be marginal. This is also a good opportunity for us to extract Nightshade from her current area of operation. The police and the Feds seem to have bought her explanation of the events of the other evening, but others in the rock scene up on Capitol Hill may not be so trusting. I’ve already spoken with Nightshade about this new mission, and now I’ll bring you up to speed, Cody. But before I got any further, I need to ask you about something. Normally this is not a question one asks another comrade in the NVA, but I need to ascertain what your religious views are.”

  “I’m a National Socialist, sir,” said Cody. “I know that’s not a religion, but I think Commander Rockwell said it best of all. The atheist and the religious person are both fools. The religious man says ‘I have searched the whole universe over, and out of all that creation, this is the one true God,’ while the atheist says ‘I have searched the entire cosmos over and there is no God.’ It’s something our human minds are simply too small to encompass, and for any human being to claim he knows the truth of the matter is as arrogant as an amoeba claiming to understand quantum physics. I don’t know if that’s the exact quote, but you get the idea.”

  “Good. I also understand you’re attending some kind of acting class at the school, which is even better, because you’ll need to do a bit of acting,” Dortmunder told him. “Here’s the thing. Emily’s mother belongs to one of the more fundamentalist synods of the Assembly of God, one that tends towards Pentecostalism.”

  “Uh, I’m not familiar with the difference between churches, sir,” said Cody.

  “We use real wine instead of grape juice for communion, which is definitely a draw for Mom, but we also jump and shout and fall down on the floor, we yell hadda badda booga wooga bee bah boo, and we pretend it’s a language,” said Emily. “That’s called glossolalia. We lay on hands and cast out devils as well, which my mom tried to do to me when I started into Ghoul Girl.”

  “Uh, do you handle snakes?” asked Cody warily.

  Nightshade smiled. “That’s called taking up the serpent. It never quite took outside the South. No, no snakes, and no drinking cyanide either. No makeup or deodorant either, unfortunately. Those are worldly vanities.”

  “Of more concern to us is that the Assembly of God theology is Judæo-Christian, as opposed to Christian,” said Dortmunder. “They teach that the Jews are God’s Chosen People and that the state of Israel is the fulfillment of Biblical prophecy. This is no longer a religious doctrine we’re speaking of, but a political one.”

  “The essence of true Zionism,” said Cody with a nod. “Which is the essence of Judaism itself. Zionism is not just exclusively to do with Palestine, but is based on the alleged supernatural nature of the Jews themselves. The idea is that the Jewish people have a special relationship with God, and have a divine mission through that relationship to create a Brotherhood of Man, as they call it. Some also refer to it as the Pax Judaica. Needless to say, this makes the Jews superior to all others and therefore grants them moral dominion over all of the peoples of the earth and top dog slot in said Brotherhood of Man. Yes, sir, I am familiar with it. More familiar than I would wish.”

  “I can imagine,” said Dortmunder with a commiserating nod. Emily looked at him oddly. Good, he thought in smug amusement. Let her wonder about me for a change. “We have become increasingly concerned over the past year or so at the growing level of Federal influence and manipulation in some of the fundamentalist Judeo-Christian churches,” Dortmunder went on. “There has always been a very heavy pro-Zionist bias within the evangelical movement, although it’s of comparatively recent date, only in the past fifty years or so. It is a complete corruption of true Christian doctrine, of course, turning personal salvation through Christ into a political movement. Christian Zionism as we know it started with a book called The Late, Great Planet Earth by a man named Hal Lindsey, around the year 1970 or so, if I’m not mistaken, and now it’s grown to a worldwide cult numbering millions of people. A lot of this has to do with certain key televangelists from
the 1970s onward who were more or less taken onto the Jewish payroll in various ways, in addition to what they could fleece out of the faithful by selling prayer cloths and Words of Knowledge and timeshares. The Christian Right was always the main supporter of the Bush family and formed the grass roots base for this endless, insane war against the Muslim world.” Cody thought of Kelly’s brother Jason in Saudi Arabia, and all the others he had known who had been shipped out to Saudi or Iraq or Afghanistan, some never to return.

  “They also promoted race-mixing for a long time, bringing all kinds of gooks and Filipinos and whatnot into America,” Cody added.

  “Yes, although the NVA has been able to choke off the mudflow and drive many of the muds these people imported out of the Homeland since the war started,” agreed Dortmunder. “The result is that the evangelical churches here in the Northwest are almost all white now. We’ve given them as easy a ride as we could, because it is absolutely essential that the Party and the NVA not be perceived to be waging some kind of war against Christianity. We’ve confined ourselves to identifying and eliminating a few of the more obnoxious evangelical ministers and television personalities, and so far that seems to have done the trick. These people are no threat without their preachers to tell them what to do and what to think. But that situation may be changing. We have noticed an increase over the past year or so in what seems to be infiltration of many evangelical churches here in the Northwest by loyalist, pro-Zionist elements, in many cases FATPOs and military personnel who suddenly start attending local churches, at some risk to themselves, even though we try to avoid hitting them in any context where it might appear that we’re targeting the churches, for the reasons I’ve mentioned. The result is they’ve kind of snuck up on us. Almost every Pentecostal, Assembly of God, and other fundamentalist congregation in the Northwest now has a group of pro-government effectives in key positions. They have been doing this quietly, including identifying and arresting anyone else in the congregation who appears to have leanings towards Christian Identity or any racially aware, Biblically sound Christian belief. It’s pretty obvious that this is deliberate.”

  “Mmm, those churches were pretty much solid government supporters already, though, weren’t they?” asked Cody. “Why would they be shoring up their own base like that?”

  “Well, it’s possible this may have something to do with that major development I mentioned was coming down the pike,” said Dortmunder. “We really don’t know, and we need to find out. There are rumors that some of these American agents in the churches are conducting little sidebar prayer meetings with more fanatical people in their congregations, especially men with military experience. Our intelligence analysts think they may be trying to use religious right people to build a kind of black FATPO, either an anti-party intelligence network or even some kind of Christian death squad type of group. Kill a Nazi for Christ, that kind of thing. We need to know what the hell’s going on, and we need to know fast. We want you two to start going to Emily’s church and get close to some people we’ll point out to you. Since the news media has made a big deal about you being kidnapped and allegedly abused by the NVA, Comrade Nightshade, that can be your hook. Your ordeal at the hands of the hated fascists has turned you back to the Lord, so forth and so on.”

  “I can show them my cigar burns like they were stigmata,” giggled Emily.

  “I still think that was a bit over the top,” said Bells, glaring over his own cigar.

  “Mmm, yes, but effective,” said Dortmunder. “What would be more explicable than having undergone such a brutal experience, you should repent of your Ghoulish ways and find Jesus again?”

  “Oh, yeah, they’re really big on returning us lost sheep to the fold,” said Emily with a bitter laugh. “That will work, all right.”

  “And you want me along as backup?” asked Cody.

  “Yes, if you can convince them you’re washed in the Blood of the Lamb and accordingly you just love Jews and Israel to death, you might be approached to join this inner circle of avenging angels or whatever they think they’re doing,” said Dortmunder.

  “And like I told you, I’ll need a visible boyfriend,” said Emily. “Somebody to keep the Bible-punching horn dogs off me at all the church activities. I don’t know if you’ve ever been to a full gospel church, Cody, but the men are the worst letches you’ve ever seen, married or single.”

  “Uh, okay,” said Cody. “Don’t any of them actually practice what their religion preaches?”

  “Not that I’ve ever noticed,” said Emily flatly. “Even as ugly as I am, if I show up on my own I’m going to have guys in cheap suits and blow-dried pompadours hanging all over me, especially since I’ve already got a reputation as a real Jezebel thanks to Mom’s testifying about me and my wicked ways all the time, during my Ghoul phase. I need to be able to circulate among the women and pick up all their bitchy gossip, not to mention giving them a chance to gossip about me when I’m not around. You’re going to have to get in with the men and hear what they have to say. It will be dangerous, comrade. You have to understand, these people honest to God believe that the NVA are agents of the devil on earth, and if they even suspect that we are Volunteers or that we so much as think any politically incorrect thoughts, they will scream for the FBI and Homeland Security in a heartbeat. If they don’t try to burn us at the stake themselves.”

  “I’m in,” the boy said simply.

  “I told him ya would be,” grunted Bobby Bells.

  “Now, Lieutenant, there’s something else Cody and I want to talk to you about,” said Nightshade. Quickly she went over the Mitch Newman situation with him.

  “You know anything about this guy, Bob?” asked Dortmunder.

  “Cody told me about him. He seems to be an asshole, but I ain’t seen any proof yet he’s a kike or a rat,” said Bells. “I told them both already, bring me some kind of proof he’s ratting people out to the Hatecrime Hotline, and Mister Drama Teacher exits stage left.”

  “All right. Do this computer thing if you can, because I want to see if it works myself, and we need to test this new software DD has invented. But remember, Newman is a very secondary assignment,” Dortmunder told them. “Don’t get caught, and don’t compromise this other job. Got it?”

  “Thank you, sir,” said Cody. “When do we start on the church thing?”

  “There’s a Bible study class tonight,” said Emily.

  “Uh, I don’t have a suit,” said Cody with a frown.

  “A white shirt and tie will do,” she said, “And I’ll get you a Bible. My mom has about fifty of them lying around the house.”

  “We’ll get you a suit by Sunday,” said Bells. “Try not to roll around in it too much. I don’t wanna have to pay for the dry cleaning.”

  “Hallelujah, brother!” said Cody.

  * * *

  On the sun-dappled morning of July Fourth, as the rest of America was celebrating the traditional Independence Day of the old, long-vanished republic, Frank Barrow met with representatives of the NVA Army Council around a smoking barbecue pit to plan a new independence day for a new nation. The outdoor conference was held in Riverside Park in Centralia, Washington, just off Harrison Avenue to the east of Interstate Five. This part of the Northwest was probably as close to safe territory for the rebels as it was possible to find, unless they went high into the Sawtooth or the Olympic peninsula. Between here and Portland lay the powerfully nationalist Lewis and Cowlitz counties, and to the northwest extended Grays Harbor County, a huge expanse of territory where the American occupation forces had been ambushed and run in circles so often that it had become known as Bandit Country. Lewis County especially was now for all practical purposes a no-go zone where the FATPO did not dare to stir out of their barracks except in overwhelming force.

  The rebels met at one of the covered picnic areas in the park. The group consisted perhaps thirty adult men and women, and a number of children who had been brought along as camouflage, mixed in along with other legitima
te local picnickers from the town. Hidden in picnic baskets, purses, in vehicles, and on their persons were enough guns and explosives to take on a regiment of FATPOs if necessary. Teams of armed Volunteers patrolled the surrounding streets on foot and in vehicles to give warning of any attack, but there was not a sign of a single Federal soldier. Even so, Barrow was uneasy about the kids running and playing and screaming, but he knew it was a necessary ruse. “I don’t like placing white children at risk any more than you do, but we have no choice,” Red Morehouse had told him. “Any informer or Federal recon sees a picnic with no kids, they’re going to know something’s up. Don’t worry, we’ve got our people crawling all over this part of town. If anything comes down the women Volunteers have been given special E & E instructions to get the children out of harm’s way. But that shouldn’t happen. Down here a squirrel can’t move in these trees without the Volunteers knowing about it.”

  Now a small group of men stood around a barbecue grill that had been set up at a slight distance from the tables, turning sizzling hot dogs and pieces of chicken and sipping soft drinks from cans while they spoke in low tones. They were casually dressed, but all of the men wore long shirts to cover the pistols in their belts. Besides Barrow there was Colonel Patrick Brennan, who was the NVA departmental commander for the state of Washington, Red Morehouse, Lieutenant Joe Dortmunder and Major Jeff Anderson from the Army Council. Beside them stood a huge hulking man with rippling muscles and a wide coal-black beard that covered the front of his T-shirt. He had a face like a Harlan County coal seam, with burning green eyes and a seemingly permanent scowl. The big man wore a slouch hat with a feather in it. This was Commandant John Corbett Morgan of the Port Townsend Flying Column, the largest and most efficient single combat unit in the NVA, with the possible exception of O. C. Oglevy’s fearsome and legendary Hayden Lake column. Oglevy had not been invited, owing to some questions regarding his sanity.