The Money Tyrants - Excerpt

8/8/2019 The Money Tyrants - Excerpt

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TheMoneyTyrants

AnovelbyBrettBuchanan

Thisisquitepossiblythestoryofourtime.JimWilliams,SyndicatedCritic

TheFederalReserve

March 6, 1992 Washington D.C.

Late in the evening a light skinned African American

man pushed a noisy vacuum cleaner back and forth across the

carpet of the ornate boardroom inside the Federal Reserve

building. Clad in gray coveralls the man guided the vacuum

between the high-back leather chairs and under the

expansive boardroom table. High on the wall at the head of

the room hung the Federal Reserve emblem. As the man

vacuumed he paused three times to empty three small trash

receptacles into his service cart. At no time did the man

look up at the emblem on the wall. He simply kept his head

down and did his job.

Tucked away in a quiet room of the Federal Reserve

building two security guards sat in front of an expansive

console of black and white security monitors. A soft

silvery glow highlighted their faces as the two men watched

the night cleaning crew perform their jobs. One of the

security guards, Lawrence, was intent on watching the

workers. The other guard, David, rambled on about his

newly purchased sailboat as he swiveled around in his chair

next to his co-worker.

As Lawrence and David passed the time watching the

monitors they bantered back and forth about Davids modest

new sailboat. As the two guards conversed the janitor in

the boardroom continued to vacuum. At precisely 1:07AM

David pulled his wallet from his back pocket. He opened it

and removed a photograph of the gleaming white sailboat.

He handed the photo to Lawrence who then took his attention

away from the monitors. As the photo traded hands the

African American janitor in the Federal Reserve boardroom


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brought his vacuum to a halt but left the noisy motor

running. He crouched down behind the large boardroom table

his image disappearing from the security camera view.

Lawrence and David were unaware of the janitors

movement as their attention was now diverted toward the

photograph and away from the monitors. The two guards

talked about the boat and looked at the picture for less

than a minute. The entire time neither Lawrence nor David

looked up at the monitors. Thirty-seven seconds after hed

disappeared from the cameras view the janitor stood up and

resumed vacuuming.

When the guards were done discussing the boat and

looking at the picture David put the photograph back into

his wallet while Lawrence turned to face the monitors

again. He saw nothing unusual. The man in the boardroom

was still vacuuming. Other monitors on the console showed

workers moving about the building doing what they did every

night, cleaning the offices of the Federal Reserve

building.

Three long and uneventful hours passed. All the

cleaning people had gone home. Only a small security

detail remained in the otherwise empty building. In their

isolated surveillance room Lawrence and David were now

fending off the boredom of watching motionless images of

empty rooms on the security monitors. At 3:23AM the door

to the surveillance room swung open and the night security

chief stepped inside.

They just arrived, the chief said to Lawrence and

David. Turn off the cameras.Yes sir, both guards responded in unison. The two

men proceeded to turn off the corresponding switches for

the cameras leading from a rear entrance of the building

and into the boardroom. There were eight cameras total.

Confirming cameras eleven through thirteen, and

cameras eighteen through twenty-two off, Lawrence said.

He then checked the master switch for the microphones in

the boardroom. It was already in the off position.

Master microphone off, the guard stated.

Ill be back when theyre gone, the chief said then

left the room. Out in the hallway the security chief usedhis radio to call another security guard waiting outside

the Federal Reserve building at the rear utility entrance.

All clear, the chief spoke into his radio.

Copy that, the guard behind the building replied.

Under a dark night sky the guard slid his radio into his

coat pocket and gave a thumbs up to the limo driver who

stood at the rear passenger door of the lead limousine


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one of five lined up behind the Federal Reserve building.

Five men then emerged from five separate limousines.

Dressed in the most expensive custom tailored suits money

could buy each of the men filed into the Federal Reserve

building through a rear entrance used mostly for

deliveries. Without speaking to each other they walked

single file down a long utility hallway, through an access

door into another hallway, and continued until they reached

the doors to the Federal Reserve boardroom. Two men were

waiting for them outside the doors.

As the five men approached, the two men waiting to

greet them opened the large double doors. All seven men

filed into the boardroom. The doors closed. The Committee

was convened. They would remain in the room for sixty-

seven minutes. All security cameras that would have

normally monitored their entering the building, their time

in the boardroom, and then their departure were turned off.

In complete secrecy these seven men then orchestrated the

advent of a new kind of global war, a war that transcended

borders, a perpetual war the cost of which would never end.

No official record of their presence the night of March 6,

1992 at the Federal Reserve building in Washington DC would

ever exist.


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TheInterrogation

Five Days Ago -

Four men in dark suits stood in a small dimly lit room

in the basement of the National Security Agency at Fort

Meade, Maryland. They were looking through the transparent

side of a two-way mirror. On the other side of the mirror

sat a man in an interrogation room. He wore faded blue

jeans and a black tee shirt. A three-day beard shadowed

his face as his shoulder length brown hair cried out anti-

establishment to the world. The man appeared calm his

hands folded on the table in front of him.

So who is he? NSA Special Agent Max Runyan asked as

he stared through the two-way mirror.

His name is Jeff Thomas, NSA Agent John Fitzgerald

read from a file. Hes a network security consultant.

You mean hes a hacker, Agent Runyan said.

Apparently, Fitzgerald replied. He was hired by

Treasury to run penetration tests on a new computer network

they just brought online. Hes got DOD and CIA Top Secret

clearances, works government contracts mostly. Hes got no

police record. Not even a traffic violation - model

citizen type. Then four days ago he went rogue, hacked our

mainframe from inside this building and downloaded some

highly sensitive files.How sensitive? Runyan asked.

No one will say, Fitzgerald replied.

Isnt that helpful? Runyan said. So who gave him

up?

Get this, Fitzgerald replied. He came in on his own

and surrendered to Senator Ronald directly.

He what? Runyan asked.

He surrendered to Senator Paul Ronald, Fitzgerald

clarified.

Now why on earth would he surrender to a Senator?

Runyan said.Maybe he knows him, or knows someone who works for

him, Fitzgerald responded.

Go on, Runyan said.

Then he met with the Senator, the President, CIA

Director Webb, the Attorney General and two Supreme Court

justices. He admitted to breaking into our headquarters


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and hacking our system, but he wont divulge what documents

he got?

And neither will our own people, Runyan added.

Im telling you this guy struck a chord with someone.

Senator Ronald, the attorney general, a couple of Supremes,

even the President, theyve all thrown a shield up around

this guy an army of pissed off lawyers couldnt dent,

Agent Fitzgerald said.

What about our guys? Have we traced what he hacked

from our system? Runyan asked.

Were working on it, Fitzgerald replied. Nothing

yet. Im telling you this guy didnt leave any tracks.

So hes got something, something highly sensitive,

Runyan said. But no one is willing to tell us what it is

and we havent traced it yet either.

This job gets stranger every day, Fitzgerald said.

Doesnt it, Runyan replied. So how do they expect

us to interrogate a man when we dont even know what were

really interrogating him about?

It says here he was paid seven million dollars by

David Voight, Fitzgerald added.

Voight, Runyan scoffed. Its always the money.

Agent Runyan paused to look at Jeff Thomas though the

two-way mirror.

So all we know for sure is this guy breached our

security and hacked our mainframe right under our noses.

Why? Runyan said. And who helped him get into this

building? And where does a traitorous scumbag like David

Voight fit in?Voight, didnt he used to be NSA? Fitzgerald

inquired.

Yeah, Runyan replied. Voight used to be NSA, and

CIA, and God only knows what else. His real name is Lloyd

Denton. He was one of us right up until he carved a nice

niche out for himself by wedging his way into major

arbitrage deals based on intelligence operations he was

running around the globe, Runyan paused.

He stared at Jeff Thomas through the two-way mirror.

Are we sure this guys not a spook? Runyan said.

Pretty sure, Fitzgerald said. But you never know.Why is nothing black and white anymore? Runyan said.

We live in a gray world, Fitzgerald replied.

So difficult to see the truth, Runyan observed.

Fitzgerald nodded in agreement. Runyan continued, Lets

go see what old Jeff Thomas has to say for himself.

Flip you for bad cop? Fitzgerald joked.


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You take it, you love that shit, Runyan said as he

motioned for agent Fitzgerald to walk ahead.

The other two agents whod stood silent while Runyan

and Fitzgerald strategized remained behind to observe as

witnesses. As Runyan and Fitzgerald left the room, gray-

haired NSA Agent Cliff Dunham spoke to the younger agent

standing next to him.

Give me some more on this guy? Dunham asked his

younger counterpart. The younger agent opened his copy

file on Thomas.

Born in Virginia, thirty-seven years old, says here

his parents were killed in a private plane crash when he

was seven.

Tough age, Agent Dunham responded.

It says the plane was sabotaged, the younger agent

said.

By whom? Dunham asked.

The NTSB found the fuel lines had been tampered

with, the younger agent said. FBI ruled it a homicide.

No one was ever charged.

What else? Agent Dunham said.

After his parents were killed he was adopted by a

family friend, a man named William Henry.

Will Henry, Agent Dunham shook his head. Let me

guess, retired Director of Military Intelligence.

Thats right, the younger agent looked at agent

Dunham then continued skimming the file. Ah man, the guys

fianc died two years ago from breast cancer, he said.

And now hes caught up in all this, Agent Dunhamsaid.

Check this out, the young agent said. We recruited

him twelve years ago out of MIT. He actually worked here

at Meade, for one week, then up and quit citing

philosophical differences with NSA policy.

Agent Dunham approached the viewing mirror. He slid

his hands into his pants pockets as he stood gazing through

the mirror at Jeff Thomas.

One week and hed had enough. Sounds like a man with

a conscience, Agent Dunham said as he stared at Jeff

through the viewing window. A look of puzzlement overtookDunhams face.

I know this guy, Agent Dunham said with a tone of

certainty in his voice. Ive seen him before.

Fitzgerald entered the interrogation room first.

Runyan closed the door behind them. Jeff Thomas remained

seated as the two men approached him. The interrogation

room was stark, the walls painted light gray. There was a


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mirror, a six feet square table with four chairs, bright

florescent lighting, and a bottle of drinking water on the

table in front of Jeff. Agent Fitzgerald pulled up a chair

and tossed the file folder on the table. Runyan moved to a

corner of the room. He stood with his arms folded across

his chest as he leaned against the wall.

Jeff, Im Agent Fitzgerald with the National Security

Agency. This is my associate, Special Agent Runyan.

There was no shaking of hands, no pleasantries

exchanged. Jeff simply nodded and acknowledged the two

men.

It seems youve stirred up quite a hornets nest,

Agent Fitzgerald began.

It seems that way, Jeff replied.

Im going to get right to the point Jeff, Fitzgerald

said. I dont give a damn what you stole from the U.S.

government or whos protecting you. What I care about is

how the hell you broke into NSA headquarters and hacked our

mainframe. So why dont we just cut through all the

bullshit and you start naming names. Who was your inside

contact at NSA?

Who was my contact at NSA? Jeff replied. Thats

like asking me who was Deep Throat. As if Id know. Does

your file there mention anything about the group Id gotten

mixed up with?

Ill ask the questions asshole, Fitzgerald

responded.

Then ask the right ones, Jeff demanded.

Special Agent Runyan approached the table and leanedin to whisper in Fitzgeralds ear. As Runyan whispered

Agent Fitzgerald looked away from Thomas. When Runyan was

finished Fitzgerald nodded and looked at Thomas again.

Runyan returned to the corner of the room.

We know about David Voight, he used to be one of

ours, back when his name was Lloyd Denton, Fitzgerald

said.

Voight was NSA? Figures, Thomas said.

For twenty years, until he was lured away by

international bankers, Fitzgerald responded.

Jeff sat silent for a few moments. Then he spoke.If you want to hear that I know the names of all the

NSA assets compromised by Voight, well I dont know any

names, Jeff said. Do you think theyre just going to

blurt out their real identities and social security numbers

while theyre duping me into doing their dirty work? Hell

I never even saw their faces. Come on agent Fitzgerald.

Think about the men I was dealing with. U.S. Intelligence


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trained all of these guys. They dont poke their heads out

for anyone.

Listen, we know you were working for them,

Fitzgerald said. We know youre no saint, we know you

scammed five million dollars for yourself and another two

million for your little girlfriend.

Shes NOT my girlfriend. She doesnt know anything,

Jeff replied.

Whatever, Fitzgerald said. Weve got your

fingerprints on the keyboard of a computer inside this

building, one of the most secure buildings in the world.

There is no way you got in without people on the inside.

And there is no way you dont know their identity.

Hey, in case you lovebirds missed the memo justice

gave me immunity. I dont even have to talk to you guys.

Im doing this as a courtesy to Senator Ronald. Fuck this

man Im out of here. You hear me back there? Get me my

attorney Im done, Jeff shouted at the men he was sure

were standing there looking back at him from behind the

mirror.

Listen you piece of shit you hacked an NSA mainframe

and you did it from the inside, Agent Fitzgerald was

heated. Someone led you through that door and I dont care

who you know or who the hell is protecting you I want to

know who got you in.

You dont scare me, Jeff leaned in. Dont you get

it? Im a dead man. The people after me dont answer to

the law. They are the law. They buy the law. They do

whatever the fuck they want with the law. I give it a fewhours after I leave here before a snipers bullet

obliterates my skull.

Everybody calm down, Special Agent Runyan broke his

silence as he approached the table where Agent Fitzgerald

and Jeff Thomas were seated. Runyan sat in the chair next

to Jeff then continued. Jeff, we know the men you were

working for. What we dont know is how they have

compromised our personnel. Thats all we want from you,

just to keep this little corner of hope alive. Maybe the

devil is in the details. Do you understand what Im

saying?Of course I understand, Jeff paused. He took a

drink of water, stood up, and walked over to the mirror.

He stared straight ahead knowing full well someone was on

the other side watching him.

It all started with this damned TARP contract, Jeff

said. It seemed simple enough. Then I got a call from

David Voight.

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The Money Tyrants - Excerpt