by James Rosone
Chapter 3
Election Shenanigans
November 11, 2018
Tampa, Florida
Davis Island
Seth stood next to his grill, double-checking the four racks of ribs he had been cooking “low and slow” for several hours. His wife, Dana, had invited several of their neighbors over for a Veterans Day cookout, hoping to build on the new relationships they’d formed over the summer and get to know more of the people living near them.
Half a dozen neighbors had RSVPed, and Seth was determined to impress them with his secret recipe for fall-off-the-bone BBQ ribs. The key to getting the meat so tender was to slow cook them in a crock pot in apple juice and then slow cook them some more all lathered up with Sweet Baby Ray’s barbeque sauce. Seth was very excited that his wife wasn’t giving him any grief for slacking off on the keto diet for a day.
As Seth slathered another layer of sauce on the ribs, one of his neighbors, Jeff McGuiness, walked over to sneak a peek at the meat. When Seth had closed the lid, Jeff handed him a fresh beer.
“You look like you could use another refill,” he said good-naturedly.
Seth smiled and accepted the drink. “Thanks. I think the ribs are nearly done, maybe another five minutes to let this last layer of sauce caramelize a bit more.”
“Man, those look good,” said Jeff, practically licking his lips.
“Trust me when I say they taste even better,” Seth said, smiling. “It’s a bit of a family secret.”
Seth popped the top of the bottle of beer and took a swig. “So, Jeff, how’s work going for you?” he asked. He had really taken a liking to Jeff. He and his wife had come over the day after they’d moved in, bringing some brownies as a house-warming gift to welcome them to the neighborhood.
“Oh, you know, the same ole, same ole. Different day, same station. How about you? You’re in the Army—things must be pretty interesting for you,” Jeff replied.
Taking another drink from his beer, Seth answered, “It’s always changin’, Jeff, that’s for sure. But I’m at the headquarters level now, not one of the groups, so the ops tempo is certainly more conducive for the family.” Seth hadn’t really told his new friend a lot about his job other than that he was in the Army and where he worked. It was better that way.
“That’s right, you’re in the Special Forces, aren’t you?” Jeff countered. “How’d you decide that that’s what you wanted to do when you grew up?”
“In a way, I just kind of fell into it,” Seth explained. “I came from a poor family. There was actually a time in my life when my family was homeless, and we lived in a campground. I knew if I wanted to go to college or make something of myself, I’d have to either have to get some academic scholarship, be a great athlete, or find some other way to pay for college. Well, I was doing pretty well in school, and by my senior year I was in all AP classes. Then our school had a career day and I met an Army recruiter. He told me about the GI Bill and how I could get vocational training in the Army and then use my GI Bill to pay for college when my enlistment was up.”
Reaching into the cooler nearby, Seth pulled another beer out and handed it to Jeff. At this point, his other neighbor, Albert, had heard part of the story and come over to join them.
“I hadn’t really thought about joining the Army before that,” Seth continued. “No one in my family had ever been a part of the military. Shoot, my dad was one of those flower-power hippies that burned his draft card during the Vietnam war, so it wasn’t like my parents had ever told me about that career path.”
“So, why’d you join, then, if you were already in AP classes and probably on the road to getting a scholarship?” inquired Albert as he pulled another beer out of the cooler for himself.
Sighing as he remembered back to his high school years, Seth responded, “You know, my dad was a real jerk during my high school years. He had a decent job and made a living wage by then. He was a union pipefitter, working on various construction projects, but he was also a bit of a drunk. He wasn’t physical with us kids, but he was nasty to be around when he drank, which was unfortunately most of the time when he wasn’t working. I guess at the time the recruiter talked to me, I just wanted out of the house, and while I probably could have gotten some scholarships to pay for school, the Army was a sure bet. Of course, it didn’t hurt that the Army was offering a ten-thousand-dollar signing bonus in addition to the GI Bill at the time either.”
Jeff laughed at the comment. “Yeah, I think if a recruiter told my seventeen-year-old self I could get ten grand to sign up for the Army plus free college, I probably would have joined as well.”
Albert laughed and shook his head. “I think my dad would’ve found some way to null and void my enlistment papers. He was adamant that I’d go into law just like the rest of the family.”
“It looks like going into law worked out pretty well for you, Al,” Jeff said with a chuckle. “I saw that new boat you bought,” he added with a wink. He took another sip from his beer, then asked Seth, “So that’s how you ended up in Special Forces?”
Seth sported a crooked smile. “Not exactly. When I joined the Army, it was 1997. At that time, we weren’t at war and there wasn’t a lot going on in the world. The job the recruiter had told me about that would earn me the most college credits, had the largest signing bonus and sounded the coolest to me as a seventeen-year-old was a job called ‘human intelligence collector,’ which is basically an interrogator. They also had a shortage of Chinese linguists, so they sent me to the military’s language school in Monterey, California, to learn Mandarin. At the time, my recruiter said I’d probably just interview Chinese defectors and asylum seekers—an easy job that would allow me to take college courses at night.”
Seth shook his head in amusement at his own naivety back then. “That recruiter knew exactly what to tell me to get me to sign up. He knew all I wanted was to get a college degree and money to get away from my folks, and this job offered exactly that.”
“Sounds like the recruiter was pretty good. Would’ve made a great lawyer,” added Albert with a laugh.
“Yeah, he probably would have,” Seth answered, smiling. “In either case, once I finished language school, that’s exactly what they had me doing. They sent me to Japan, where I largely worked debriefing Chinese asylum seekers and defectors. The recruiter wasn’t totally wrong—that position did give me an opportunity to take college classes on base. Between my military schools and previous AP classes I had taken, I was quickly able to earn a bachelor’s degree in Asian studies.”
He took a sip of beer, his mood suddenly somber. “Then 9/11 happened and everything changed. I went to officer candidate school and then went on to join Special Forces, only this time I was an officer instead of enlisted,” he said.
Before Seth could say anything more, his wife wandered over to the grill. “You guys almost done with those ribs yet? Everyone’s getting hungry,” Dana said with a wink. A few of the other wives sauntered up with their husbands.
Seth shook himself from dark memories and his countenance changed. “They sure are,” he said with a smile. “Let me pull them off the grill and you can bring them in the house to cut up.” He started loading the glistening specimens of meat onto the nearby tray. The crowd that had gathered was almost visibly salivating at the sight of such delicious grub.
The kids were slowly roused out of the pool as the moms got them plates with hot dogs, cheeseburgers and other trimmings. The dads collected at the table near the grill with their plates of ribs, potato salad, coleslaw and other fixin’s. The ladies opted to sit inside, where they continued their own conversation.
After finishing off a couple of ribs, Seth turned to Albert. “So, you’re a lawyer. What kind of law do you practice?” he asked.
Using a baby wipe to clean his hands, Albert responded, “Contract law. Pretty boring stuff, really, but it pays well. My dad is getting closer to retirement, so he’s looking to have us kids take over the family firm. Both my
sister and brother actually practice law as well. Each of us has taken over a specific specialty in the firm, so we can largely handle most cases that could be brought to us.”
“Wow, that sounds pretty neat to have a family-run business like that,” Seth replied. He envied Albert’s story, having a close-knit family that he could work with. So much of what Seth did these days was classified—he couldn’t even talk about what it was he did with his wife, which was frustrating to say the least.
Albert nodded as he finished a healthy sampling of the coleslaw. “It can be,” he responded. “I’m fortunate in that all of us siblings actually like each other, except during election years. Then we argue and fight like we did when we were little.”
Everyone snickered.
“So which sibling is the one that leads that charge?” asked Jeff mischievously before he took a bite of his baked beans.
“My sister, of course,” Albert answered. “You’ve met her, Jeff, I think. Gabi. During each election cycle, she works as a volunteer for the Florida Democratic Party. Man, is she piping-mad about the President blasting the election results, saying the Chinese had intentionally interfered in the election to help his opponents.” Albert put his fork down and grabbed for the last rib on his plate.
A few of the guys laughed before Jeff responded, “It’s not like he’s wrong. I mean, the Chinese couldn’t have been more obvious if they tried. They applied tariffs to nearly every business in forty-some congressional districts, all held by Republicans. I mean, if you’re going to interfere in an election, at least try and be subtle about it.”
The guys nodded, and then the conversation casually shifted back away from politics. The rest of the evening went well, and they managed to avoid any major clashes. At the end, the guys all asked Seth for his secret to making those fall-off-the-bone ribs.
*******
Washington, D.C.
Department of Homeland Security
Patricia Hogan (Patty to her friends) rubbed her temples as she took a seat at her desk, getting settled in to tackle the day’s new challenges. She’d been the Director of Homeland Security since the start of the Sachs administration, and while she loved her job, it was a real challenge. Trying to manage the more than 240,000 employees and dozens of agencies underneath her umbrella was an intense job. She thrived on it, though. Patty also reveled in the fact that she was only the second woman to have held the position; it thrilled her that, despite all the challenges of serving in the Sachs administration, she was excelling.
She turned her mind back to the task at hand, shuffling through the paperwork on her desk, trying to prioritize what to work on first. It was now twelve days after the 2018 midterm elections, and her department was still trying to unravel exactly what had happened. Dozens of complaints had been filed to and by the Federal Election Commission about the sheer volume of misinformation, fake news, voter fraud allegations and cyber-attacks—not to mention the outright barrage of super PAC money with clear foreign ties benefiting both political parties. Each side demanded answers.
Another folder on her desk dealt with the caravan of asylum seekers from Central America that was rapidly approaching the border. Then there was the full-blown trade war with China.
It’s been a rough week and a half, she realized. She took an Excedrin Migraine, trying to get ahead of things before the stress caused yet another headache.
She checked her schedule. It was 0800 hours, but her day would soon devolve into meetings that were scheduled almost back-to-back. She’d have to use her time wisely. She smiled as she remembered that one of her meetings today was about the blockchain voting pilot program, iVote, that had taken place during the most recent election in West Virginia. She was hopeful this could have a major impact on securing future elections.
Patty rubbed her temples and collected her thoughts, mentally organizing her day. She hit the intercom button on the desk phone. “Jill, can you have some coffee brought in?” she asked. “Also, please tell Riku I want to talk with him before our ten o’clock gets here, will you?”
A few minutes later, her secretary popped in with a fresh pot of the extra-caffeinated Death Wish brand coffee, which she placed on a table near the corner of her office. “Riku said he’d be over momentarily,” she announced before heading back to her desk in the anteroom.
Patty smiled as she took a sip of her piping-hot brain juice. I just don’t know what I’d do without Jill, she thought. Not only was her secretary an exceptional gatekeeper, but she played a pivotal role in keeping her on schedule and on track with her many deadlines.
After only a minute, Riku Tanaka knocked on the door frame of her office.
“You needed me, boss?” he asked.
Riku Tanaka was a first-generation Japanese American from the San Francisco Bay area, and by all accounts, he was a boy wonder. When Patricia had become the DHS Secretary, she’d done the unthinkable in Washington and picked someone from outside the Beltway to become her lead technologist. Her overarching goal had been to do her best to modernize the agency and bring it into the twenty-first century. The organization had become a bloated bureaucracy that was running on outdated technology; this had made DHS inefficient, costly, and critically vulnerable to hacking. In order to streamline the organization and fix the critical vulnerabilities, she’d brought in someone who hadn’t become ingrained in the lifestyle of Washington red tape.
Riku had been a Chief Technology Officer at a major Silicon Valley firm, with little to no political experience. When Patty had brought him on, she’d charged with him with one overarching mission—modernize the agency with the newest, most secure technology available, and help her make the agency more efficient and responsive to the needs of the country. At the deputy director level, Riku actually had the authority needed to force change across the organization.
She waved him into her office, and the two of them took seats in the armchairs over to the side of the room. She offered him some coffee, but he just chuckled and said, “No, thanks. That stuff’s got a bit too much kick for me.”
She smiled. “OK, Riku,” she said with a laugh. “Hey, before we have our meeting with the Crossmatch folks, I wanted to get your thoughts on the West Virginia iVote program. How do you think it went?”
He pulled a folder out of the leather messenger bag that he always carried around and handed her a printout. “It went great,” he said, smiling. “Actually, better than great. The vendor provided each of the overseas service members a ring code that essentially acted as their unique voter ID and allowed them to securely cast their vote through the iVote app on their mobile device.”
“iVote—I like the ring of that,” Patty said. “But I think you’re going to need to explain this ring code thing to me again. How does it verify the person using it is actually a legal, authorized voter?” she asked, placing the handout on the table between them.
“Sure thing, boss,” Riku said with a nod. Patty was grateful that he was one of those rare individuals who was technologically brilliant and yet able to communicate complicated information in layman’s terms. “Basically, the individual submits their address and basic biographical information to the voter registration office. Once the individual is verified as an eligible voter, they’re given an access code to use on the iVote application. The voter then inputs that access code, which allows them to create their unique identifier. Using their smartphone, their thumbprint is captured on the device. That biometric is then embedded with the ring code, and when the voter makes their selections on the ballot, that biometric and code is then added into the blockchain sequence and transmitted back to the voting office.” Riku pulled out some other documents that had some pictures of the process on them as he walked her through the technical aspects of how the system worked.
Patty fiddled with the bun in her hair. “This sounds promising,” she said. “My only concern is how safe it is. Can it be manipulated?”
“Well, I’m by no means a blockchain expert, but from what I gat
her, when the ring code is inserted into the chain, it is thoroughly embedded and encrypted. Meaning if anyone tries to change that particular code in the chain, it’ll show up as having been tampered with. Honestly, I think the more challenging part of implementing this program is going to come from the voter registration office. The voter rolls have to be up-to-date and verified. I’m more than a little worried about that particular piece of the puzzle being the area where we may see attempts at voter fraud,” Riku replied. He uncapped his water bottle and took a couple of gulps.
Furrowing her brow, Patty asked, “What do you mean? How could voter fraud take place in that part of the process?”
“Pretty easily, actually. If the voter rolls are in an online database, then they can be hacked. Also, if someone was able to breach the system, they could simply go in and change the voter rolls by dropping people from them or listing them as ineligible voters. By the time a voter realizes they’re listed as ineligible or their name has been dropped from the rolls, it could be too late to have it appealed or looked into before they needed to cast their vote, and we both know that provisional ballots are often thrown out.”
She shook her head in dismay. Hackers will be the death of this country, she bemoaned to herself.
“OK, Riku. I’d like you to write up a risk assessment concerning the voter rolls so we can present it at our meeting later. I want to close that loophole.”
“Sure thing, boss,” Riku said. He stood and left to get back to business.
As he walked out, Patty smiled to herself. She knew she’d bucked the system when she’d hired Riku, but she didn’t care. He often thought about angles many others ignored. She didn’t care about his political leanings as long as he stayed in his lane, and so far, he was genuinely doing a great job modernizing the Department of Homeland Security.
