by James Rosone
“Man, what the hell is going on? Do we even know yet?” Seth asked, trying not to get distracted by the news reports being splashed across the TVs mounted on the walls in the office.
“At first it looked like an isolated incident. Then a second attack materialized, then a third. Then we got reports of a suicide bomber hitting one, and then a car bomb hit another. I think what scared the Pentagon was that several people filmed the attacks and the immediate aftermath. Those videos were uploaded to Instagram, Twitter, Snapchat, Facebook, and YouTube, all with different captions.”
Captain Tulips showed Seth a couple of the videos. “If you look at this one, for instance, this is one where two gunmen opened fire on the people at the voting station. In one upload, the caption reads, ‘Antifa Members Open Fire on Early Voters in Conservative-Leaning Districts.’ You can see just how fiery the comment thread is here. Conservatives were outraged that liberals would resort to violence to keep President Sachs from winning, and many of the liberal comments, while not at all happy about the attacks, claim that the conservative party is truly the party of violence and hate.”
Seth was appalled by what he saw and the implications of what it all meant. His immediate reaction was that Antifa had finally crossed the line, but then he remembered Tulips said multiple versions of the same video with different captions were popping up.
Tulips handed him a tablet. “This is the same shooting incident, only the caption reads, ‘Black Lives Matter Thugs Kill White Voters in Conservative-Voting District.’ It’s the same incident, sir, but completely different messages aimed at different audiences, targeting the specific newsfeeds people are following.”
Captain Tulips directed his attention back to the desktop screen. “Look at this,” he said. “This is the car bomb attack. You can see the beat-up pickup truck with a rebel flag on it, pulling up to the library where everyone was in line to vote. The driver parks the truck, then hops into another vehicle and speeds away. The truck then blows up less than sixty seconds later. Now, look at the caption of the video: ‘KKK Member Blows up Car Bomb at Polling Station in Predominantly Black Neighborhood.’ Then the next window shows the exact same attack, but this time the caption reads, ‘Antigovernment III Percent Group Detonates Car Bomb at Early Voting Center in Democratic Stronghold.’ Again, same attack, different caption. These were targeted to different demographics, newsfeeds, and social media groups.”
Waving his hand at the TV, Tulips decried, “Even the mainstream media is falling for it. CNN ran with the video that this was an attack by the III Percent group against Democrats, while Fox News ran with the Antifa attack against conservatives. You don’t even want to see how fast this is spreading across Twitter, Facebook, and the other social media platforms, sir. It’s crazy.” Tulips shook his head in dismay.
Sitting back in his chair, Seth was stunned. Then he was angry. He couldn’t believe something like this was happening inside his country. They were less than three weeks away from the general election.
Turning back to face Captain Tulips, Seth said, “We need to find out who’s orchestrating this. Let me know when the boss arrives. I need to make some calls.” Then he got up and quickly headed to his desk. He needed to get on his JWICS terminal and get in touch with some folks back at Langley. He had a hunch, and he needed their help in tracking it down.
It took Seth several tries, but he eventually got through to the man he was looking for. “Trevor, it’s Seth Mitchell down at SOCOM. I need to talk,” he told his friend.
“Seth, this is a really bad time. Can we talk in a couple of days?” asked Trevor. He was clearly dealing with a crisis on his own side of the line.
“This is important, Trevor,” Seth insisted. “We’re reviewing the various videos and the different captions of the terrorist attacks. I need to know if you guys have been able to determine where the servers are that these videos are being shared from, and if they’re being shotgunned out by a host of bots.”
There was a pause on the other end. Seth almost asked if the line had been disconnected when his friend spoke up. “We’re still verifying those points, Seth. Is this a secure line?”
Pulling the phone away for a second, Seth saw the yellow tape on it and moved the receiver back to the side of his face. “Yeah, I called you from the JWICS phone,” he replied. “What are you guys seeing so far? The boss is on his way here shortly, and I need to have something to tell him.”
There was another short pause. “It’s bad, Seth. The videos were initially uploaded to the social media platforms here in the US on our networks, but once they were online, they were shared to several server farms in China, Russia, Eastern Europe and the Balkans. From there, literally tens of thousands of bots began sharing them across nearly every group and social media feed in the US. In less than five minutes, the various versions of the videos had been shared more than one million times. In thirty minutes, that number had climbed to thirty-two million. Now they’re spreading across the globe. The news media in Russia is reporting one version, while the BBC in London is reporting a completely different version with the same video. It’s complete chaos, Seth.”
Pausing for just a moment, Seth wasn’t even sure what to say or ask. His worst fear was confirmed. Someone had orchestrated a complex attack on the country and then weaponized the outcome of the attack to play to the worst fears of each echo chamber in America. The social engineering of the attacks would now spread like an unchecked virus across the country, only further fanning the flames of division and hatred.
“Is there any way to shut it down? Can we stop it?” Seth asked. “We need to get the correct information about these attacks out to the people. Also, do we have any idea who the attackers are? Maybe we can trace them back to whoever financed or supported them.” His mind continued to race.
“I don’t know, Seth. We’d have to completely shut down the internet or social media to do that,” said Trevor, clearly exasperated. “I just don’t know. We have a call with some folks from the NSA. If anyone can squash this, it’d be them, but it’ll take clearance from the White House, and they won’t have very long to make that decision. It may already be too late even for the NSA to intercede. Look, I’m sorry, Seth. I’ve got to go.” And just like that, the line went dead, and Seth found himself looking at the handset, wondering what the hell was going on.
We are clearly under attack by a foreign power or group, but who? he wondered.
Seth got up and headed over to the operations center. He knew the boss would head there first once he arrived, plus he wanted to share with them what his CIA friend had just told him. Maybe his piece of the puzzle might help to paint a better picture of what was going on.
When he walked into the ops center, Seth saw that the room was filled with military members, government contractors, and civilian employees, all manning the various computer terminals. It was controlled chaos in the nerve center as they began to filter through the various information feeds and tried to organize what they were seeing.
After sighting in on the person he needed to speak with, Seth made his way over to Chief Warrant Officer 5 Clarence Moore. “Chief Moore, I need to talk to you,” he said.
Is it just me, or did his hair gray a bit more since the last time I saw him? Seth asked himself.
Chief Moore was the senior intelligence man in the ops center. With thirty-six years of service in the military intelligence field, he had a plethora of information to offer. He held up a hand to forestall Seth’s question. “Hang on there, sir. I need to sort through this first. I’ll be with you in a moment.”
Seth nodded and moved out of the way to the side of the room, so he could sort through something with a few of his NCOs and junior officers. A minute later, he walked up to Seth. “OK, sir. What do you have for me?”
Seth explained to him what his CIA contact had told him about, including where the servers and bots were located that were responsible for spreading this enormous disinformation campaign currently being waged
across the country.
Chief Moore soaked in the information, then nodded, adding, “This is good, Sir. It adds to what we’re already seeing.” Before he could say anything further, General Royal entered the room and immediately walked up to the front, so he could face everyone.
For the most part, everyone stopped what they were doing when they saw the CG walk in and head for the center of the room.
General Royal cleared his throat. “Listen up, everyone. I just got off the phone with the SecDef. He said he just spoke with the President, Homeland, and the National Security Advisor. According to the CIA and NSA, there are a series of domestic attacks currently underway, timed to coincide with the election. Accordingly, the SecDef has raised the threat con to Delta and placed the military on a state of alert. All leave is canceled, and a full recall is being initiated as we speak.”
A soft murmur could be heard in the room as the colleagues shared nervous glances with each other. Seth thought he saw anger burning in some of their eyes that someone would have the audacity to launch such an attack against their country.
“We’re four hours into these attacks, so information on who all is involved or responsible is still sketchy at best. But rest assured, as soon as we identify who is behind this, they’re going to feel the full weight of the United States military, and it’ll start with us and this command. Grab your Red Bulls, people, and strap in, because it’s about to get real hairy fast.”
With his impromptu speech done, the boss made his way over to his side office he used when he wanted to stay near the action of the ops center. The colonel who normally worked out of the office made space for him, moving over to the empty desk space set aside just for this purpose.
Seth made a beeline for his boss. General Royal saw him approaching and waved him into the office. “You look like you’re dying to spit something out, Mitchell. What is it?” asked Royal.
Seth nodded. “Yes, sir. Have you been brought up to speed on the videos of the attacks and the different captions being used and circulated?”
The general nodded. “Yes. It was brought up during the telecon I just got off of. The NSA thinks they have some leads on who’s behind the social media part of the attack, but we’re still working to identify the attackers. What do you have?” he asked, obviously aware that Seth had probably reached out to his CIA contacts.
Seth brought the general up to speed on what they had uncovered up to this point. Chief Moore, who had joined the conversation midway through, added in what his analysts had as well. The informal group discussed the intelligence they had up to this point. Unfortunately, until they could identify who the individual attackers were and where they had come from, tracing the origins of the attack back to a specific group or organization was going to be challenging.
*******
Three hours later, Special Agent Leslie Clancy walked into the operations center and made a beeline for the temporary room where General Royal was working. As she approached the general, Leslie didn’t wait for an invitation to speak. She blurted out, “We have an ID on three of the terrorists—the ones that carried out the attack in Ohio and the lone suicide bomber in Arizona.”
The general had been in the middle of a conversation with a few of his senior officers when she walked in. Normally, he would have been aggravated by such an intrusion, but he pointed to the chair one of his colonels was sitting in, and the man quickly got up to make room for her to join them.
“OK, Leslie. Tell us what you have,” he said.
Sitting down, Leslie could see all eyes were on her. The men before her were looking for targets—people to go and kill. What she had to tell them would point them in the direction of who and where. It was an odd sense of power that washed over her in that moment. She brushed it off and pulled out a few pictures from a folder she was holding.
“Sir, these are the two attackers that shot up that polling station in Ohio. They’re brothers. Their names are Enar and Farouk Duka, ages twenty-four and twenty-seven. They traveled to the US roughly four months ago from Munich, Germany, using German passports. We’re currently trying to figure out how they were able to acquire those travel documents when they were clearly from Kosovo and had previously fought in Syria.
“We also IDed the female suicide bomber. Her name was Leonita Bajrami, age twenty-six. She’s from Struga, Macedonia, which is an Albanian enclave and trouble spot there. She arrived in the US roughly four months ago, just like the Ohio attackers. We’re still working on the IDs of the remaining assailants. I was told we may have more information in the next few hours, especially regarding the two individuals who placed the car bomb near the polling station in Georgia.”
General Royal turned to his J2 or intelligence chief. “I have to admit, I didn’t see this coming,” he said. “Do we have any idea what terrorist groups are operating out of those areas, Eddie?”
Brigadier General Eddie Pike leaned in. “Well, the region has always been a bit of a hotbed of Islamic extremism. It’s also right smack in the middle of the routes foreign fighters have been using to move between Europe and the Middle East and vice versa. Nearly all the Islamic extremist groups there have fallen in line with the Islamic State. As a matter of fact, in August of 2014, the Kosovo police had arrested some forty individuals for having fought in Syria. It’s estimated that close to three hundred Kosovars have traveled and fought with ISIS in Syria and Iraq. I’ll bet when the FBI and CIA look further into these individuals, we’ll probably find out they have ties to Syria.”
After thinking silently for a moment, General Royal turned to his J3 or operations chief. “What assets do we have in that area, Dekker?” he asked.
Major General Ed Dekker sported a smirk. “Third Battalion from 10th Group is currently on rotation in Constanta, Romania, and Drawsko Pomorskie, Poland. You want me to send them an alert for deployment to the Balkans?” he asked. “We could tell them to make plans for Camp Bondsteel in Kosovo; that’ll give us a base to operate from in the Balkans.”
“See which company can deploy to Bondsteel fastest and get them headed there,” General Royal directed. “Send a message over to the defense attaché’s office in Pristina and let ’em know what we’ve found so far and that we’re tasking an SF company to head to Bondsteel. I want to give the SecDef and the President some options. I have a feeling that if two of the attack groups originated from that region, chances are the others will as well.
“Oh, and, Ed, send an alert to JSOC. Tell them to spin up the unit and get them ready to go. If the President gives the go for operations in the Balkans, I want Delta on the move for follow-up missions. Make sure the 160th SOAR is also en route—they can support 10th Group for the time being.”
The group immediately dispersed and went to work getting things ready for what would almost surely turn into an authorization to launch a strike against whoever had perpetrated these dastardly attacks.
*******
Forty minutes later, Chief Moore walked up to Seth, a couple of his senior NCOs tagging along just behind. “Sir, if the boss gets the go-ahead for things in the Balkans, I want to send a team to Bondsteel. We’re going to need to boost our on-the-ground intelligence assets, and we’ll need some human intelligence collectors on standby as we start to snatch up some prisoners. Would you back me when I make the pitch?” he asked.
Seth looked at the eager faces before him. Everyone was looking for some payback, a chance to be at the pointy end of the spear. He nodded. “Yeah, I agree, Chief,” he said. “Good thinking. I’ll back you on it. I have a feeling whatever happens, it’s going to happen quick. The election is only thirteen days away.”
“You know you could try and come as well, sir,” Chief Moore offered. “You’ve served on the teams and you’ve got an intelligence background. We could use an officer who’s a shooter and intel weenie,” he added with a wry grin.
Snorting at the thought, Seth answered, “You’re reading my mind, Chief, but my wife would kill me if I left for an undete
rmined time. She’s still not over my last stint with the Agency. During the three years we lived in Virginia, I was probably home for all of five months. She’s pretty insistent on me reconnecting with my kids.” Seth couldn’t hide his disappointment. He was clearly torn between his duties to his country and his duty to his family.
Moore placed a hand on his shoulder. “I understand, sir. We’ve all been there. This isn’t exactly an easy job we’re in. It’s a lot of sacrifice that others just won’t ever understand. But moments like this one are also why we joined. I have a feeling we’re going to need your analytical mind on this one. You’ve got some past experiences we may need as well.”
“You’re alluding to my questioning experience in Yemen, aren’t you?” Seth asked.
Chief Moore nodded but said nothing.
“You know that’s highly classified, not to mention it nearly got me kicked out of the Army.”
“Yeah, but you’re still here. And more importantly, it worked,” Moore responded.
Seth reluctantly shook his head. “If we go to Kosovo, I’ll make a call and see if that option is still available. If it is, we’ll consider using it if the time comes. But it’s not going to be considered for just anyone. It has to be worth the risk,” Seth added.
Just then, Seth saw that General Royal had finished the SVTC he had been on with the President and his senior staff and started walking in that direction. Chief Moore apparently had seen the same thing and moved along swiftly beside him.
