Tyranny of Secrets

by John Statton

  “Hello, asshole,” came Seth’s greeting to Blair.

  “Fuck you. You’re just on clean-up duty tonight.”

  “Don’t get involved in things you don’t understand.”

  “Yeah, well she’s your responsibility now,” said Blair as he reached up and jabbed a hypodermic needle into Mariana’s neck while squeezing the plunger. The drug hit her like a ton of bricks. As she crumpled, Blair pushed her at Seth, who barely had time to catch her.

  Seth got her over to the plane and strapped her in. The chief had the King Air refueled by a couple of his men. After a quick inspection, Seth was back in the sky.

  #

  Chapter 18

  Election Night

  November 2016

  Mariana woke slowly from her sleep. Her hearing returned first; a television droned in the background. She took a slow, deep draw of breath. On the exhale she slid open her eyes to see nothing. She was hooded and sitting in a comfortable padded chair, her wrists and ankles secured with handcuffs to the arms and legs. She rattled the cuffs as she sought the limits of her mobility.

  A bit stunned from her capture, she was surprised to find herself still alive. She remembered the sting of the needle and the man with the strange eyes. She’d no memory of the two and a half-hour flight to the same Wyoming where the original Politburo plotters had landed back in 2002. No recollection of being carried into Rainy’s lodge. No idea where she was.

  If they wanted to kill me, they could have. Did Sander escape? Was he killed? Is there any hope he can find what I had left behind? she thought. The answers to those questions so much more important than anything impacting her expected fate. But those were worries she needed to set aside. If she was alive, then they wanted something from her. What was it? And to what lengths would she go to protect whatever it was?

  In her darkness she tuned into the sound of the television. Fox announcer David Cook was droning in a pompous tone, “It's the culmination of months of heated debate, charges, and counter-charges in this very hard-fought campaign between Governor Ravana and Senator Oak. Now you have gone to the polls and your decision is the one that counts. To recap, it is shaping up to be a remarkable night for the governor, as early returns and exit polls are indicating a tide of close votes, going in his favor.”

  Oh crap, she thought, my head hurts like hell, I'm bagged and shackled, and to top things off I have to listen to Fox News. If this is election night, then there are going to be a lot of very disappointed people out there.

  Hearing the door open, she felt a presence enter the room. Someone stepped behind her. Without sight, her danger sense amped-up and she momentarily held her breath. Then the hood was lifted and her eyes widened in recognition, as Adolph Rainy stepped into her field of vision and took a seat behind the desk facing her.

  The desk, a slab of highly-polished, golden brown Koa wood, fit into the opulent surroundings. From what she could see when she turned her head, she sat in a richly-appointed study done in a masculine, Old West style. At the side of the room stood a river rock fireplace where flames offered light and heat. On the other wall hung a sixty-inch, high-definition screen. Rainy looked at her from across the golden wood.

  “Do you have any idea what is happening here, Ms. McAllister?” Rainy leaned slightly back in his leather seat and regarded her through his thick lenses.

  She calmly said, “I know you are stealing the presidency by using my code. And if you eventually don't let me use the ladies’ room, we are going to both be very embarrassed.”

  “Unless it’s imminent, I don't think we’re going to need to worry about it,” hissed his reply, causing Mariana to have a feeling her time was short. “I've wanted to meet you for the longest time, the woman who pioneered our country's cyber-capabilities, and who developed the impressive election hack. Mansfield’s star performer. When he mentioned my opportunity for meeting you might be drawing to a close, I intervened to make this interview possible.”

  He continued, “I hoped you might be able to see beyond this election when I asked if you had any idea what was happening?”

  “Isn't hijacking the leadership of this country enough for you?”

  “Almost, I have to admit, this is a very satisfying political season. I'm anticipating just about every close race is going to break Republican.” Grinning, he added, “And probably will for a long time to come. Did you know almost half of the money in American politics comes from about thirty thousand people? That's out of one hundred and fifty million registered voters. We control those thirty thousand donors. It's a substantial amount of electoral power right there.”

  “You can't possibly hope to decide the outcome of each and every election from here on out.”

  “We can, but that won't be entirely necessary.”

  “Necessary for what?”

  “A little thing I like to call asymmetrical totalitarianism. Quite a mouthful, isn't it? You see, my people's goal has never been to control the presidency. Hell, we've done that before. No, this is just a stepping stone for us. Have you ever asked yourself how a small minority can control societies numbering in the tens and hundreds of millions?”

  “Not something I've dwelled on a lot.”

  “You should have. You are the Oppenheimer of the cyber-era. I thought you would have had more reflection about the power of the tools you employ.”

  “What do you mean exactly?”

  “Let me give you a little education. Just eight men control over fifty percent of the wealth of this planet. A two-thousand-member billionaire class owns the other choice parts. The scraps are shared among the seventy million who make up the financial upper one percent of the global population. After these sharks feed, there is not a lot left over for the rest of the world's almost seven billion. It's a very rough food chain.”

  “Yeah, I’ve read the reports about the concentration of wealth, it's growing. I’ve seen the globalization protest. The world is onto this; it’s old news. Mr. Vice President, how about we stop this economics lesson and talk about the Politburo? How they have used NetSecure to control this election. I know that smug prick Blair led the North Carolina election hacks for Ravana. Want to tell me about your little treasonous cabal? I saw your email traffic with Mansfield and, more importantly, his journal. How does it feel to betray the country and constitution you swore to defend?”

  “Ms. McAllister, were you naive enough to never wonder if there were levels above the Politburo? Who are the real puppet masters in this game? If the world’s wealthiest would have rulers of their own?”

  He continued, “I’ve been a very powerful man for a long time, and early on did some research at my peril. I discovered that out the ashes of post-war Europe and Asia, a new generation of entrepreneurs made millions, then billions, and found themselves thrust into the upper reaches of this planet’s wealth. As these new titans of industry emerged, they came in contact with the guardians of the old oligarchy. The Governors.”

  “The what? Never heard of them.” She gave him a sideways, puzzled look.

  He pushed back his chair, stood, and walked around to the front of the desk. He sat on its edge and looked down at her.

  “My questions got noticed, and I got brought into contact with the world’s real rulers. You might say recruited with wealth and power, the typical inducements. But you see, Ms. McAllister, I was already a fellow traveler who believed in the rule of the economic elite. I support the Governors because of their dedication to keeping the oligarchy in power. I've served to extend their influence.”

  “Sounds like a lovely little psycho party; I think I saw it in several Hollywood thrillers. Diabolical plans for global domination are hard to hide in the real world.”

  “Really? When you control every news outlet, you control what stories get printed and which get spiked. Get real, Ms. McAllister, America has five hundred and fifty billionaires, and they control most of the wealth in the country. Did you think they’d not be pursuing capabilities to rule the society t
hat has so richly rewarded them? They’re becoming a stable governing class that identifies and siphons off society's talent into their service. Capital is centralizing its control on this planet and a global elite is emerging. The elite intends to keep itself in power for a very, very long time.”

  He continued, “You never knew about the other compartmentalized work done at NetSecure. Your election work is a sideshow to its primary mission of developing population management tools. There are shepherds, sheepdogs, and sheep, Ms. McAllister. The Governors control the sheepdogs. Everyone else is part of the flock.”

  “For population management, you’d need enormous data sets. So that’s why you skimmed off of the communication lines; you’re behind building that gigantic new NSA data center.”

  “They've been building the world's biggest database for almost a generation, DARKSIDEMOON. NetSecure’s been the foundry for creating data mining and population management tools to use this information. Now we’re going to put those tools into practice, coupled with the data collection resources of a nation state. The NSA is going to stand up as many billion-dollar data centers as needed to make our vision happen.”

  “You believe you can manipulate the American people through their information?”

  “Oh yes, we can make sure those who support the Governors are advanced, and those who don’t, fail. Big data sets enable algorithms to identify promising subjects and ensure those who support our ideology get the scholarship, have high credit scores, favorable business lease rates, win the lottery, and in general, move more easily in life. While their rivals face headwinds and the occasional scandal. We’re going to keep expanding our database of information to include DNA and other biometric data on every human.”

  “The Governors deciding society's winners and losers, is that the capability you want?”

  “In part, Ms. McAllister. In part. We also want more actual control over those who wield corporate and political power. We will use the knowledge derived from being privy to each person's digital secrets. The artificial intelligence we’ve developed to manage this is very sophisticated at identifying situations where an oligarch’s interest is at stake, and enabling us to intervene.”

  “You profit from extortion, exploiting others’ secrets. That’s what we are talking about, isn't it?” She strained at her restraints, the only reward a metallic rattle. She relented and slumped back into the leather. “Isn't this a little melodramatic,” she said.

  “Yes, but I'm an old gentleman and don't want to hit a woman, even if she attacked me. Better to preclude the possibility.”

  “With all deference to the fact I'm chained to this chair, I'm calling bullshit about the Governors.”

  “Oh, I assure you, they’re very real. Two hundred Governors oversee our little world. They select who fills a vacancy, and an appointment is for life. Each is dedicated to perpetuating the oligarchy and strengthening its ability to control our world.

  “For example,” he added, “there’s my friend, Edric Winterhurst. His family has been in the country control game for a long time. Through their families and fortunes, the early titans of commerce waged a century-long effort to extend their reach. They created the ultimate secret society. They were open to new members as business created sympathetic fortunes and death provided retirement of older Governors. They have influence at the highest levels in all governments. Their security apparatus has complete access to the national security operations of every major world power.

  “That's asymmetrical totalitarianism, Ms. McAllister. Can you imagine such a small group controlling the destiny of the rest of us? To do that, they needed a large lever, and you helped provide it in the political realm. The rest of NetSecure gave us what we needed to exploit the global populations.”

  They both stopped to listen as the television's talking heads were displaced by an announcement for a Breaking News alert. The introduction faded to the announcer, who started with, “We want to let out viewers know, Earl Ravana is within four electoral college votes of clinching the White House. We are awaiting the results from several states that could push him over the top. Stay tuned to Fox News for the latest in this exciting contest and what is shaping up to be an early, and overwhelming, conservative tide. Now back to our studio.” Rainy and Mariana’s attention shifted back to the room and the questions between them.

  “Look, I'm afraid you are not going to live long after our discussion, but it’s nice to have someone intelligent to share this with. For as long as computers are in use, they will be the primary tools to exploit citizens and support humanity's rulers.”

  “Not a terribly exciting prospect, Mr. Vice President. I know it’s naive of me, but what about using digital tools for something positive?”

  “Because the Governors are going to protect and foster the oligarchy’s wealth. They’re going to use every lever needed to ensure their control. They’re going to keep their heel on those beneath them. If you have ever left a digital footprint of anything you are not proud of, the Governors are going to know it and exploit it if they ever need anything from you. It's your secrets that make you vulnerable. They’ll know every digital thought, word and deed you have tried to hide away.”

  He added, “By the time the new president and his administration finishes, the nation will have a real surveillance system, with a virtual dossier on every person. We will control that power and use those files to keep citizens in line, or bad things will happen to them and their families. For those who follow the line, good fortune. For the others, not such positive outcomes. It doesn't get any more basic, Ms. McAllister.”

  Sweet Jesus, thought Mariana, we missed this completely. If the Governors are real, then its game over. Privacy is in shreds and computers are about to allow population control on an unprecedented scale.

  She gave a grim look at Rainy, her internal resolution strengthened. She knew if her message made it to Sander, then she may yet be able to stop them. What would be unleashed would be able to fight this madness. With that knowledge, her inner conflict about her cure being worse than the disease resolved. She wished she could pass along this knowledge to Sander. She hoped with all of her heart he still lived. Did he get her message? Could he understand it? She looked at Rainy and said, “There will be another system to rise against you.”

  “Rise? I don't think so, Ms. McAllister. Not going to happen. The capitalist system is what we put in place, and this is the result it produced. What other ideology will rise? Communism? That lost when its nomenklatura became an upper class and betrayed the revolution. Today there is no worker state. China is the largest business enterprise on earth. The Communist Party of China is dominated by its oligarchs. Several of which now sit as Governors.”

  “I’m not the last one who will learn the truth and fight you.”

  “I think you are. We never did find Mr. Bonham, but no worry, I understand our teams are still in the area searching for him. In fact, they have been told not to come back until they have him, or his corpse. But I grow tired and must bid you good night and goodbye.”

  Mariana’s heart jumped, Sander may be alive and on the run, let it be true. Suddenly it all hit her. With a surge of emotion, she sobbed. All she’d gone through for NetSecure. All of the years of her life, Sander’s life, separated by a secret and sacrificed on an altar of service to an evil god. Her emotional floodgates opened to wash through the deep feelings of loss and betrayal. She doubled over in pain, gripping the arms of the chair. She knew she was going to die. Her last hope was a man she’d pushed away for so long. Over these past few weeks she felt reunited with him, and a big part of her that had been missing had come back. A feeling of being forgiven and loved was now firmly in place. She gathered herself. The sob gave way to a shaky, cracked voice that said, “Not such a good night for me, I’m afraid.”

  Without pity or emotion, Rainy coldly replied, “No, not for you, Ms. McAllister.”

  In the background, Fox News declared Earl Ravana the forty-fifth president
-elect of the United States.

  Rainy stood and left the room, walking past her to the door. As he left, Seth stepped in and replaced the hood. Mariana began to steel herself against what she feared would come.

  Seth pulled out a prepared syringe from his coat pocket and held it to her neck. For her, the sharp prick of the needle came as a relief; at least things would be painless in the end. She had such regrets, but she also had hope. She felt embraced by Sander’s love as her night fell.

  ***

  Back in the air, heading to Tahoe, Seth was pissed. He’d listened to the entire interview while waiting to be summoned. It gave him a pretty clear picture of just what was happening in the world. Rainy trusted him with his killing, so this one more sensitive secret was almost incidental. Seth had been instructed to return to the Sierra airstrip and work with Blair to dispatch his passenger. He hated the role he played in this game, and had a new appreciation for exactly who was really benefitting. As the engines droned, Seth kept reflecting on what he heard, It would not sit well with the Rastas, my old brothers. This is some seriously whacked business. After further reflection he realized, I’m tired of this shit.

  He glanced over at his passenger. I’ve got to draw a line somewhere, he thought. I’ve been doing this for so long, I’ve forgotten there is a larger picture. Now it’s hard to take my eyes off that view. She’s the last opposition to Rainy. Letting her go would atone for a lot of the things I’ve done. As the miles dropped behind them, his thoughts could not stop circling her fate and his past. Her survival and his redemption became intertwined in his head.

  Upon landing at the same Sierra airfield where they had started, he pulled a still tranquilized Mariana out of the plane and into the passenger’s seat of a late-model Jeep Cherokee, rented under her name. A simple fiction supported by NetSecure altering records in the rental company’s computers. Reaching over, he clicked in her seat belt to keep her from falling over and went to look for a knife to slice off her zip-tie cuffs.