*.fiction

Black Christmas show will include a reading of Krampus

2011-12-14T12:17:00.000-08:00

You can only imagine my surprise when I received the following email from Jessi Miano, aka Lady Hourglass...

The reason i am writing to you is because the act i am doing involves a visit from Krampus. In the start of the act, i will be reading a story of krampus out loud, and am then visited by Krampus while i'm sleeping. [...] It is a Hula Hooping act with an LED hoop, linked in with my friend eating fire while dressed as Krampus. I am not the best at writing stories, so I have been searching the internet for the prefect story of Krampus to read. I came across your story, read the few stanzas that are on the preview, and LOVE it

So Jessi's Black Christmas show on Saturday 17th December will include a reading of Krampus: A Christmas Tale. If anyone out there is going to be in the Brooklyn area this Saturday, follow the links below and get along to the show!

https://www.facebook.com/events/154588491307340/
http://www.brownpapertickets.com/event/214816

Krampus - interviews and audio versions

2011-12-13T13:00:00.000-08:00

Be sure to download the latest episode of the Paul the Book Guy podcast. Paul was nice enough to interview me about Krampus and my other books. You can follow him on Twitter too.

Paul is also producing an audio version of Krampus: A Christmas Tale with music by Geoff Smith, which will be part of his next episode. RynoTheBearded is also going to be doing an audio version on one of his shows on the No Agenda news Network too.

Remember, you can also keep up to date with Ryno's episodes of the One Day in Gitmo Nation audiobook at http://itm.im/rtb

New children's book: Krampus: A Christmas Tale

2011-12-04T13:20:00.000-08:00

Just in time for Christmas, I am very pleased to announce the publication of a new book. Krampus: A Christmas Tale is a rhyme I wrote for my daughter but the real reason to pick up a copy is the incredible artwork by an artist called Phil Ives. When I gave him my story, his first draft of Krampus hit the character dead on. I can't sing this guy's praises enough.

The story itself is based on a "real" character from Christmas mythology who accompanies Father Christmas and gives horrible presents to bad children. I thought it was the perfect character to let me write a story that would entertain and scare children in just the right amounts. Verse 1 is below, followed by the details of how you can pick up a copy in paperback or on your Kindle.

I'm going to tell you a Christmas tale,
With a man who gives books and toys,
But this one's a little different,
It's been known to scare some girls and boys

Click here to get your paperback copy
Click here to download the Kindle version (UK)
Click here to download the Kindle version (US)

One Day in Gitmo Nation: Hardback limited edition available

2011-09-12T13:05:00.000-07:00

HARDBACK LIMITED EDITION AVAILABLE UNTIL 31ST DECEMBER 2011

Support the No Agenda show by getting your hands on the hardback limited edition of One Day in Gitmo Nation, available only for the last 111 days of 2011.
Inside the back cover is a special link that takes you to a free download copy of the novel.
It's the ideal Christmas present for the conspiracy theorist in your life!
Click here to get your hands on this limited edition

The End... for now

2011-08-24T12:49:00.000-07:00

So that's it, we've come to the end of One Day in Gitmo Nation. If you've enjoyed the novel, make sure you check out the No Agenda Show - the inspiration for my latest crazy stories.

You can also follow @RynoTheBearded who is recording the audiobook version of One Day in Gitmo Nation. The raw files are available here.

I've also turned my hand to writing short audio plays. The first, Words Matter, has also been produced by Ryno and is available here. It's set in the same world as One Day in Gitmo Nation and features a cameo appearance from one of my favourite characters from the novel. Check it out and all the other great shows on the No Agenda Stream.

One Day in Gitmo Nation - Epilogue

2011-08-23T12:00:00.000-07:00

The next day ...

In the morning ...

Just after one in the morning, the reminder that Tom had snoozed twice that day popped up on his laptop screen once again.

‘DMS’ was a reminder that Tom used to alert him to adjust the despatch date and time of a set of scheduled emails and bank transfers.

‘DMS’ stood for ‘Dead Man’s Switch’. With Tom now lying dead on his bedroom floor, at seven o’clock every news agency in the United States would receive an email containing everything Tom had ever found out while working for Frank Oates, and every member of Tom’s family would suddenly find their bank accounts overflowing with more money than they ever could have imagined.

The next day would begin like no other.

For full details on how to get your hands on a copy of One Day in Gitmo Nation, visit www.noagendanovels.com

One Day in Gitmo Nation - Chapter 7.22

2011-08-22T12:00:00.000-07:00

The look on Tom’s face told his boss all he needed to know. By the time Frank Oates had become the director of the CIA, he was a master of both hiding secrets from other people and knowing when other people were hiding secrets from him.

‘What’s happened, Tom?’ Frank asked.

‘The President is in our custody and the clone is going to be assassinated any minute now. The readiness exercise at the Emergency Response camp hit a snag but appears to be proceeding in spite of the complications. Everyone who caused us any trouble today is being rounded up and taken to the camp, along with everyone who witnesses the assassination at the TV studio. Doctor Conway’s plane went down in the Med and I had to deploy the Needle a second time to extinguish a potential leak.’

‘It all sounds good, Tom,’ Frank said as he studied the look on his assistant’s face.

‘Thank you, sir.’

‘So why do I think you’ve got bad news for me?’

‘The investments, sir. We lost money. Well, we haven’t lost money yet but I’m afraid it’s likely.’

‘How much?’

‘Well, I can’t say for sure, sir–’

‘What’s the exposure, Tom?’

‘Seventeen million dollars, sir.’

Frank sighed. ‘I’m very disappointed.’

Tom could see the anger in him growing. ‘I know, sir–’

‘Shut up slave! Let me finish!’ Frank shouted, then spoke in a more measured tone. ‘Why do we do all this? Why do we spend so much time and money joining the nations of the world together under one banner? I know you know why—to make money. To make a shit load of money. To make more money than anyone could possibly imagine. On the back of that, I make my scraps on the side, and you get to make your scraps on the side. Our timescales are tight, Tom, and there’s only so much money to be made before the world out there goes tits up. I can’t afford one day where I don’t make money, and I definitely can’t afford one day where I lose money.’

Before Tom could plead ‘I’m very sorry sir, it won’t happen again’, Frank drew a silenced pistol from his jacket and shot Tom twice in the forehead. Blood and brain sprayed all over his desk, chair and bed, covering the project folders and laptop with a thin film of blood. Tom’s body hit the ground in a heap. Frank knelt down and put his pistol in Tom’s right hand.

Tom’s phone rang. It took Frank a few seconds to find the phone under the piles of bloody papers, but he decided to answer it when he saw that it was Eric, the President’s aide, who was calling.

‘What?’

‘I need to speak to the man who usually answers this phone,’ Eric said, with fear causing a high pitched wobble in his voice.

‘He’s not available.’

‘Please. I need to speak to him urgently.’

‘I’m his boss. What do you want?’

‘It’s about the President.’

‘My sources tell me he’s being taken care of and the clone is about to do his duty.’

‘No! They’re the wrong way round. The clone was in the car and the President is on the show!’

What a clusterfuck, Frank thought. For a day that’s going to go down as a success by the High Command, it sounds like there’s been some serious fuck-ups. Seventeen million in the hole and we’re about to kill the real President. At times like this you have to laugh.

And he did.

‘How the hell did that happen?’ Frank asked, struggling for words through the hilarity.

‘I don’t know. I need help. I don’t know what to do.’

Frank heard a muffled, crackly scream in the background.

‘Sounds like it’s too late to do anything,’ he said. ‘Good luck. Enjoy the journey.’

‘Enjoy the journey? The journey where?’ Eric asked.

‘You’ll see.’

Frank hung up and threw the phone onto Tom’s lifeless body. He left his dead assistant’s bedroom and walked along the plush carpet of the corridor to the elevator, where the bellhop took him down to the ground floor. Even though it was after midnight, most of the delegates from the conference were still sitting at their dinner tables, drinking wine and smoking cigars. The hotel staff didn’t dare remind them about the hotel’s no smoking policy.

The tables were labelled with the area of the world where the delegates had travelled from. Representing the United States, Frank had been sitting at the head of the table labelled ‘Gitmo Nation West’. He sat down next to an ex-President who was sitting at the ‘Gitmo Nation East’ table, talking to an ex-chancellor of the exchequer of the United Kingdom. They were laughing and joking.

The ex-President looked concerned as soon as he saw Frank’s stony face.

‘Everything okay, Oatesy?’

‘Remember when we’d just go out and hit people in the mouth?’

‘Yeah, and they’d just give us their cash. They were the good old days.’

The ex-director of the CIA, the ex-President and the ex-chancellor stayed up long into the night, drinking, smoking and plotting. The day ended like any other.

For full details on how to get your hands on a copy of One Day in Gitmo Nation, visit www.noagendanovels.com

One Day in Gitmo Nation - Chapter 7.21

2011-08-21T12:00:00.000-07:00

Shit. Shit. What am I going to do? Damage limitation, Tom. Damage limitation.

Tom told himself he had to make sure everything else went smoothly. The primary detonation in the Silverman building went off successfully. It knocked out the video feed but within five minutes the internet news sites were full of breaking news about a ‘terrorist attack’ on Wall Street but the entertainment sites were sticking with the news about Anna Indiana’s performance in Times Square. One less thing to worry about.

He then checked the satellite feed to make sure that the team from West Point had arrived at Camp Alpha and watched them for a short time as they erected tents in a field some distance away from the still-burning wreckage. Something else I don’t need to worry about.

The Vice President called. The President had arrived at the TV studio and was hiding in the limo. Tom called one of his foot soldiers and told him to make sure his team got the President alive. The capture went off without a hitch and, any minute now, the crackpot would kill the clone on stage in front of hundreds of people. Maybe the boss will forgive me now.

What Tom didn’t expect was a call from one of his moles inside the Secret Service.

‘Chuck, what do you want?’ Tom asked.

‘I’m with the President’s children, backstage at the Anna Indiana concert,’ the voice on the other end said. ‘We’ve just apprehended a young woman who was shouting about biological weapons, Mark Duncan Properties and she even told the Silverman girl that her father is dead. She told her to tell the world about it when she goes on stage.’

‘Jesus Christ. When’s she due on stage?’

‘She’s just going on now, but I think we can stall her for at least an hour. She’s asked me to look into the story about her father. What should I tell her?’

‘I don’t care what you tell her. An hour is enough time to get the Needle lined up. Madison Square Garden, yeah?’

‘That’s correct.’

‘Good. Here’s what you do ...’

Tom repositioned the Needle 2 satellite over Madison Square Garden while he gave Chuck the instructions of how to fire the weapon remotely by SMS, and told him to get Rosie out of the building and into the truck.

There was a knock at the door. Tom knew who it was but he didn’t jump up to answer it as quickly as he had done so earlier in the day. His hand was shaking as he opened the door.

For full details on how to get your hands on a copy of One Day in Gitmo Nation, visit www.noagendanovels.com

One Day in Gitmo Nation - Chapter 7.20

2011-08-20T12:00:00.000-07:00

For the next hour Tom focused on nothing but the preparation for bringing the house down on the anti-climate change meeting. He spoke to his men on the scene to make sure they had taken care of Ike Silverman and planted the suicide note on him. The explosives were set and Tom had accepted remote control of the detonators, which he would access via another secret bookmark. He set the first detonation to go off at four o’clock exactly and selected the option to manually detonate the second, more powerful explosion. The Emergency Response truck was ready, waiting for people to run away from the building so his men could bundle everyone in the back and take them to Camp Alpha.

If Gabe made it out of the Silverman building alive, there was no way Tom could let him get away—not with all that he had seen and done today. A trip to Camp Alpha for a vaccination and ‘memory rinse’ was the order of the day for Gabe.

Room service order number two arrived and Tom wolfed it down with gusto. It was getting late in the day but he still had a couple of hours to wait until the President’s clone took to the stage in the TV studio. If only everything had been scheduled earlier, or he hadn’t been in another time zone, and Tom could have enjoyed a nice frosty beer with his meal. As it stood, he had to keep his wits about him.

He’d seen a steady stream of transactions tick through on the investment status page and decided to give Gabe a call five minutes before the first bomb was due to go off. Gabe had made Tom and his boss—mainly his boss—a lot of money and deserved at least a chance of getting out of the building before it blew. Tom looked at the video feed. Gabe wasn’t in his chair. Tom picked up the phone and watched Gabe run across the office to answer it.

‘Where do you think you’re going, Gabe?’

‘My boss is in trouble. I need to go and help him.’

‘Don’t worry, I’ve got someone on the way to help him now,’ Tom lied. The pause on the end of the phone was far too long for Tom’s liking. He could almost hear the gears in Gabe’s brain cranking round. ‘How’s it going?’ he demanded.

‘I put as much in as I could.’

‘Good work. I don’t need you to put any more trades through for me today. I suppose you want to know what happened today, don’t you?’

‘Insider trading, isn’t it?’

‘Not exactly. More like market manipulation.’ Tom chuckled.

‘You’re going to knock this building down, aren’t you?’

‘What makes you say that?’

‘Based on what’s happened today, I’d say that’s a pretty good hunch.’

‘Good luck getting out of the building. You’ve got three minutes.’ Tom watched the animated hands of the clock on his laptop screen tick round to three minutes to the hour, then shouted, ‘Go!’

‘Good luck at the soup kitchen.’

Tom was lost for words at that remark. ‘What do you mean by that?’

‘I didn’t short Mark Duncan Properties, I bought them. If you blow this building up, you’ll lose millions. I thought that might buy me some more time to get out of here.’

As Gabe hung up, Tom brought up the investment status page. Gabe wasn’t bluffing. He’d invested seventeen million dollars in Mark Duncan stock. Even worse: he hadn’t set a stop-loss on the holding, which meant there was no auto-sell when the price dropped below a pre-defined level.

Tom came out in a cold sweat and checked his watch. Two minutes until the bomb was set to go off. There was nowhere near enough time to transfer the holdings to another institution and find a different broker to sell the stock. He would have to wait until the morning to sell his boss’s holdings and, if the Silverman building fell, the market would open with Mark Duncan stock at a much lower price than it was about to close at.

I don’t have any other option, Tom thought as he disabled the manual detonation for the second set of explosives, all the while fearing the reaction of his boss when he found out what had happened.

For full details on how to get your hands on a copy of One Day in Gitmo Nation, visit www.noagendanovels.com

One Day in Gitmo Nation - Chapter 7.19

2011-08-19T12:00:00.000-07:00

The market had done its work for Aircoach and Coolbox and Tom felt the warm satisfaction of having gamed the system perfectly. He thought back to his boss’s last instruction and picked up the phone to call Gabe. It was engaged. He loaded up the video feed of the Silverman office and saw that Gabe was on the phone. He saw Ike Silverman meet someone at the door to the main office. It was two thirty in New York. That slimy bastard Mark Duncan is right on time, Tom thought.

As soon as Gabe put his phone down, Tom called back.

‘Why were you on the phone so long?’ he asked.

‘It was a colleague in Nashville–’

‘It doesn’t matter,’ Tom interrupted. ‘I need you to do one last thing for me. Liquidate all of today’s investments, then invest as much as you can in shorting Mark Duncan Properties.’

‘I’ve never heard of them.’

‘Don’t worry about that. They’re a relatively new company. Just don’t blow the whole wad in one trade. Build it up slowly, but not that slowly. You need to have as much invested as possible by close of business today.’

‘You don’t want me to liquidate your holdings at the end of the day?’

‘No. I’ll do that tomorrow morning.’

‘When do you want me to start?’

‘Now.’

Tom didn’t want to interrupt the deal that was about to be done in the Silverman building, so he quickly typed out a message on his phone and sent it to Ike. It read only three words, in upper case for effect:

SIGN THE DEAL

Tom almost felt sorry for Mark Duncan. Almost. The shady businessman was about to have the rights to the Silverman building signed over to his company. Little did he know that he would then be captured and sent to the Emergency Response camp while the security staff he thought were working for him killed Ike Silverman and framed him for the bombing. Serves you right, Mark, Tom thought, that’s what you get for trying to blackmail a former director of the CIA.

Tom definitely felt sorry for Ike Silverman. He may have been the head of an investment bank that triggered the recent financial crisis but he was a family man. All he really wanted was for his daughter to be happy. It would certainly take her a while to get over the fact that her father had suicide-bombed his own building as a last stand when forced to sign it over to save his failing businesses. That’s what the papers would tell her anyway.

Tom looked at the investment status page, then the video feed. Gabe was sitting at his desk, but he hadn’t put any trades through since their last call. He picked up the phone.

‘Why haven’t you put any trades through yet?’

‘I was just looking up the fundamentals,’ Gabe said, then paused. ‘Hold on, how do you know I haven’t put any trades through?’

Tom watched the video feed as Gabe spun round in his chair and found the security camera that had been broadcasting his movements all day. Gabe gave it the finger.

‘Hey, that’s not very nice,’ Tom quipped. ‘Just do what I say. Make the fucking trades. Now.’

For full details on how to get your hands on a copy of One Day in Gitmo Nation, visit www.noagendanovels.com

One Day in Gitmo Nation - Chapter 7.18

2011-08-18T12:00:00.000-07:00

The next call Tom picked up was from Vice President O’Biden.

‘All systems go,’ the Vice President said before Tom could greet him.

‘And they’re going to use the clone on TV?’

‘Yeah, I’ve spoken to Eric and he said it won’t be difficult to talk the President round.’

‘Good. Where will we find Harry?’

‘In the back of his limo in the car park at the TV studio. They always send most of the Secret Service with the clone as a diversion so your men shouldn’t have too much trouble picking him up. You know this is all a waste of time though, don’t you?’

‘My boss thinks Harry knows more about the war in Jabronistan than he’s letting on.’

‘Your boss is a very intelligent man, but on occasion he can see intelligence in other people that just isn’t there. Harry knows nothing. He really is that dumb.’

‘I guess we’ll know for sure once we have him.’

‘I guess. Gotta go. Say hi to your boss for me.’

This time Tom was the one who got hung up on. To give himself the feeling of power that had temporarily disappeared, he found the number for Anna Indiana’s manager in his phonebook. Kenny answered before the end of the first ring.

‘Hello? Who’s this?’

‘How many times have I told you to save this number in your phone?’ Tom snapped. Kenny Roubini immediately knew who he was talking to.

‘I’m sorry–’

‘No you’re not, you fucking douchebag. If you’re sorry, you’d save this number so you’d know when you’re getting a call from someone who has the power to shoot your bald head from outer space with a laser cannon strapped to a fucking satellite. Got it?’

There was a pause, followed by Kenny’s reply. ‘Got it.’

‘Good. Now listen up: I need to create a distraction. What’s Anna Indiana doing today?’

‘We’ve got a gig at the Garden tonight.’

‘What time?’

‘About eight.’

‘That’s too late. I need something to happen before four o’clock.’

‘Well, she’s doing a live performance at Times Square about three o’clock, but–’

‘Perfect. But what?’

‘She needs to put in a good performance. We need to shift tickets for tonight or the Garden will be empty.’

‘I don’t give a shit. Make it happen. And save my fucking number.’

Tom hung up, with his feeling of power restored.

For full details on how to get your hands on a copy of One Day in Gitmo Nation, visit www.noagendanovels.com

One Day in Gitmo Nation - Chapter 7.17

2011-08-17T12:00:00.000-07:00

The next forty-five minutes passed without incident and Tom used the time as an opportunity to take a breather. He wheeled the room service trolley out into the corridor and then picked up the phone to place the order for his evening meal. A big bowl of pasta and garlic pizza bread would give him the energy he needed for his trip to the hotel gym the next morning.

He might even ask his boss for a day off, however small the chance of getting that signed off might be. If he made a success of the rest of the day, he thought it might be a possibility. After all, it’s not every day that you have the President killed, test a biological weapon that will be distributed to the whole population and bring a jumbo jet down in the Mediterranean.

The time in Switzerland hit 19:00 and the ‘DMS’ reminder popped up on Tom’s screen again. He hit snooze once more to get rid of it for another six hours, hoping that his day’s activities would be over by then.

Tom’s phone rang. It was a number he didn’t recognise but it brought a message to him that would put more than just a holiday request in jeopardy.

‘Who’s this?’ Tom answered.

‘Sir, my name is Major General Burke from McGuire Air Force Base.’

‘What can I do for you, Major General?’

‘Sir, something has been brought to my attention that you need to know about.’

Go on ... Tom’s silence said.

‘One of my pilots was despatched on a domestic mission less than an hour ago. The order came directly from a member of the first family. It wasn’t until he returned that I fully understood the significance of the target.’

‘What are you telling me, Major General?’

‘Camp Alpha has been razed to the ground.’

Tom felt nauseous. With no camp, there was no containment test. With no containment test, there was no containment licence and with no containment licence, there would probably be no tomorrow for Tom Miller.

‘Are you aware of the readiness exercise that is taking place today, Major General?’

‘No, sir.’

‘Well, now you are. Your plane bombed my camp so you’re going to clean up the mess.’

You stuck up little bastard. If I didn’t think you could have me suicided I’d tell you to go fuck yourself, Major General Burke’s silence said.

‘Contact General Grant at West Point,’ Tom continued. ‘He is the officer coordinating the troops for the ground test. Tell him what you told me and come up with a work-around. I don’t care if we have to pitch tents in the next field, we have to have a solution in place before the truck gets there tonight.’

‘What time?’

‘Eight, your time. That gives you just under seven hours.’

Tom hung up and immediately began repositioning a surveillance satellite to keep an eye on activities at Camp Alpha.

For full details on how to get your hands on a copy of One Day in Gitmo Nation, visit www.noagendanovels.com

One Day in Gitmo Nation - Chapter 7.16

2011-08-16T12:00:00.000-07:00

Tom smiled as he watched the video feed from the Silverman building. Gabe had got up from his desk and found himself confronted by a gang of men with machine guns.

Tom knew right away that these men were private security guards working for Jean-Pierre Guinaudeau, whose meeting to blow the lid off the climate change scam was due to begin in four hours. What Monsieur Guinaudeau didn’t know was that his private security guards really worked for Tom’s boss. They had infiltrated the scientist’s inner circle and, while they were supposedly sweeping the Silverman building for threats, they were actually planting explosives in strategic places. The first explosion would bring the roof in on the meeting then, just to be sure everyone was dead, a second, much larger set of explosives would bring the whole building down.

With a sly glint in his eye, Tom decided to toy with Gabe. He picked up the phone and called his number. Not only would he be shitting himself about the men pointing machine guns at him, he would also be worried about what the scary man on the phone would say if he didn’t answer the call. Tom kept redialling as he watched Gabe plead his case with his aggressors. They left and Gabe took what looked like his lunch order from a delivery boy. On the fourth call, Gabe eventually made it back to his desk and picked up the phone.

‘Where the fuck have you been?’ Tom barked.

‘You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.’

‘Try me.’

‘A group of men with machine guns came into the office and started asking me questions. They said there’s a meeting here later today.’

‘Yes, the anti-climate change guy. Just routine, I’m sure.’

‘So you know about it?’

Tom paused for dramatic effect to make Gabe think he was onto something. ‘That’s not important,’ he said. ‘We’ve already wasted too much time.’

‘Okay, what do you need me to do?’ Gabe asked.

‘I want you to short Aircoach. As much as you can in the next five minutes.’

Tom watched the transactions appear on the investment account statement. The kid in New York managed to put through short sell orders for three hundred thousand shares in Aircoach. Tom called him back.

‘Three hundred thousand was the best I could do,’ Gabe said.

‘Excellent,’ Tom replied, stifling the urge to tell Gabe he knew what he had done. ‘Take a break for now. Enjoy your lunch, but don’t take your eyes off the TV screen.’

For full details on how to get your hands on a copy of One Day in Gitmo Nation, visit www.noagendanovels.com

One Day in Gitmo Nation - Chapter 7.15

2011-08-15T12:00:00.000-07:00

With all the work he was doing on Projects Crackpot and Buzzkill, Tom had almost forgotten about the other major event that was due to take place that day. He was glad his boss had reminded him. Once Camp Alpha had been vacated, the site was going to be used to test the USA’s response to disasters—natural or otherwise.

The idea was to house all survivors in special camps until it was safe to return to the site of the disaster. The Council of Unified Nations Treaty described the action of containment as an appropriate response to a terrorist event, but the way the treaty was written meant it was possible to apply the process to any large scale disruption, including a global pandemic.

14.5.1.2 Global Pandemic Response Option 2 – Containment

Procedure is as stated in section 17.4.1.2 Local Terrorism Event Response Option 2 – Containment.

...

17.4.1.2 Local Terrorism Event Response Option 2 – Containment

Local authorities will provide facilities for the mandatory internment of citizens affected by a Local Terrorism Event. The facilities should be located a minimum of 50 kilometres from a potential target zone (see Appendix G.1 – Potential Terrorism Target Zones). Each Camp should provide all basic requirements for sustaining the lives of 10,000 citizens (see Appendix C.3 – Basic Requirement for Sustaining Human Resources).

...

17.4.4.2 Local Terrorism Event Response Testing – Containment

Before a Containment Licence can be issued, all member states must demonstrate their ability to react to a Local Terrorism Event by performing a test of their facilities with a minimum of 100 citizens, who (in accordance with section 21.4.3 Live Test Procedure 3) must not be forewarned about their participation in the test.

Most critical of all was the need to pass a test to receive the Containment Licence from the High Command. The USA was pressed for time; they were planning to spread the H1K9 vaccine aggressively over the next three months and the Emergency Response camps were part of the plan for dealing with the outbreak.

Gather up ten thousand people at a time and give them all the vaccine: it was the only way they could hope to vaccinate one hundred per cent of the population. The rest of Gitmo Nation were looking to the USA for guidance. Whatever was achieved in today’s test would become the standard operating procedure around the world.

Today’s test was simple. A truck was going out onto the streets of New York, rounding up people who looked like they wouldn’t be missed for a few days. Then they would be vaccinated and given a secondary substance that would wipe their memory of the event. Not only would the test satisfy the council’s need and allow the USA to receive their containment licence, it would also be another field test of the binary weapon.

Out of the corner of his eye, Tom saw the cartoon plane disappear from the map on his laptop screen. He checked his watch: it was 18:03.

Doctor Andrew Conway sleeps with the fishes, he thought as he picked up the phone and told the Reuters news agency about the plane that had just crashed into the Mediterranean Sea.

For full details on how to get your hands on a copy of One Day in Gitmo Nation, visit www.noagendanovels.com

One Day in Gitmo Nation - Chapter 7.14

2011-08-14T12:00:00.000-07:00

‘The Cloudbuster test was successful.’

Those words were music to Tom’s ears. Now the job of dealing with the plane was simple. Just sit back and watch the flight path animation, and if the plane disappeared just before it reached Spain, the job was done. If the powerful turbulence generated by the Cloudbuster wasn’t enough to bring it down, Tom would make sure the Needle did the job as the plane left Spanish airspace and started to make its way over the Mediterranean. Wherever possible, Tom liked to make a point of bringing a plane down over water. He was proud of the fact he always kept collateral damage to a minimum. After all, the more people that died, the more questions that would be asked and the more difficult it would be to use the same tactic in the future. It was easier to get rid of the wreckage when the plane crashed in the ocean. Mother Nature was a great housekeeper.

Tom’s phone rang. It was one of the men who had suicided Doctor Gibbs.

‘What’s up?’ he answered.

‘The woman who worked with the scientist is on the move.’

‘Do you know where she’s going?’

‘Not yet. I was going to follow her. We’re only a mile away.’

‘Good idea. For all you know, she might be going out for lunch. She was there before the Buzzkill package was picked up, wasn’t she?’

‘Yes, I think so.’

‘Okay, follow her. If she does go to the camp, what’s waiting for her there will probably do your work for you. If not, you know what to do.’

‘Yes sir.’

Tom hung up and checked his watch. It was 17:24. The plane would be passing through the clouds any second now. He returned to the screen and watched in breathless anticipation as the cartoon plane edged along pixel by pixel, all the while waiting for it to disappear at any second. 17:25, 17:26 and 17:27 ticked by and the plane continued its jerky path across the screen. The Cloudbuster hadn’t worked.

Oh well, Tom thought, time to use the Needle.

He clicked on the cartoon plane again and dragged it along its flight path until it was just crossing over the Mediterranean. The time above the GPS coordinates read 17:02:23 GMT. Tom reopened the administration page for the Needle 1 satellite and set a new firing schedule: 17:02:21 GMT (the blast would take two seconds to reach the plane) at the exact coordinates of where the plane would be.

There was a knock at the door and Tom jumped up to answer it.

‘Hi, slave,’ his boss greeted him.

‘Come in,’ Tom said. ‘Are you guys having a break?’

‘Yes, we’ve been kicked out for an hour while they turn the room round for dinner.’

‘How’s the conference going?’

‘Very well. It looks like the vaccine is going global. There’s a firm belief that drinks are going to be the best way to distribute the secondary substances. The soft drinks companies are already giving out free samples of some low-power test material in the US. Speaking of which, how is our readiness exercise going?’

‘All systems go,’ Tom said as he checked his watch again. ‘All the kids at Camp Alpha should have received the vaccine. Any minute now, they will be taking the secondary substances.’

‘Remind me what test we went for again ...’

‘Rambo versus zombies.’

They both laughed. ‘Ah yes, of course. And the camp will be vacated in time for the other test, won’t it?’

‘That’s right. Once we’ve contained the incident we’ll clean up the camp and get it ready for tonight. There’s only one truck going there today—they’re going to round up a bunch of strays and anyone who gets in the way—but more will follow tomorrow.’

‘Who’s that?’ Tom’s boss asked, and pointed to the grainy footage of Gabe sitting at his desk.

‘That’s the guy who’s been putting the trades through for us today.’

‘How are we doing?’

‘Up by a couple of mill.’

‘Good work. The building’s wired, isn’t it?’

‘Yes sir. I’m going to push the button at four o’clock—ten our time.’

‘And it’s owned by that bastard who’s got us by the balls on the Emergency Response camps, isn’t it?’

‘That’s right.’

‘Good. We may as well make some money when his stock drops too.’

‘Sounds good, sir. How much do you want me to invest?’

‘All of it.’

For full details on how to get your hands on a copy of One Day in Gitmo Nation, visit www.noagendanovels.com

One Day in Gitmo Nation - Chapter 7.13

2011-08-13T12:00:00.000-07:00

They took a rope each and pulled. The contraption rattled like a supermarket trolley as it bumped over the wooden panel onto the deck of the yacht. Huxley pressed down on the makeshift metal clips on the castors that acted as brakes. He then uncoiled the rubber tube, walked over to the edge of the yacht and dropped the end of the tube into the water. With the cloudbuster now in direct sunlight, Danny couldn’t help but comment on its appearance.

‘Damn, Huxley, this thing is rusty as hell. How old is it?’

‘It was first used in 1953.’

‘What does it do?’

‘Very simple, really. We point these metal tubes in the air, crank it up and hit the red button.’

‘What happens then?’

‘It makes clouds.’

Huxley watched Danny’s face as the rusty cogs of his brain squealed into action.

‘It makes clouds? Bullshit.’

‘Well, you’ll get to see it in action in a few minutes.’

Danny frowned as his brain turned over. ‘So how does it make clouds?’

‘Honestly? I have no idea. No one else does either. That’s why it’s so old. The guy who designed it died not long after it was built and no one has ever been able to make another one that works, so whenever this one goes on the fritz, we have to try our best to get it back up and running. I’ve had a call telling me to fire it up.’

Huxley checked all the connections on the Cloudbuster and tightened the loose nuts with a spanner from the toolbox that was always shipped in the crate with the machine. The yacht stopped moving and the captain appeared on deck.

‘We’re throwing down the anchor, Huxley. Over to you.’ Huxley gave him a thumbs-up. Danny was standing at the bow, talking on his phone. Huxley let a hint of a smile break in the corner of his mouth as he decided to give the rapper the biggest fright of his life.

Huxley grabbed the rope that was attached to the top of the hinged section and pulled it back. The six metal tubes lifted upwards, with a metallic clunk from the locking mechanism as it turned through every ten degrees. When the tubes rose through ninety degrees they were pointing directly at Danny, but Huxley didn’t fire the weapon. He hit a foot pedal and the locking mechanism released, sending the tubes rotating back down to their starting position. That was the final check.

Huxley rotated the tubes as far as they would go—through one hundred and seventy degrees—so they were pointing upwards, almost perpendicular to the deck. He then knelt down and turned the crank handle as fast as he could. He was always amazed by the other-worldly musical noise the magic inside the black metal box made. The pitch of the tones got higher and higher until Huxley was satisfied with the charge inside the Cloudbuster, then he hit the red button.

The massive bang made Danny jump. ‘Hey, what the hell?’ he shouted as he spun round. ‘Yo Huxley, what are you doing?’ He then said goodbye to whoever he was speaking to and hung up.

‘Pretty cool, huh?’ Huxley said as he looked at the sky above the yacht. Before Danny could cuss Huxley down for scaring him half to death, he looked up. It was mind-blowing. Thousands of feet above them in a clear blue sky, a dark grey cloud was forming. It started off as a small grey speck and very quickly grew unnaturally larger and darker.

‘God damn,’ Danny said, followed by, ‘do it again!’

Huxley didn’t argue. He cranked up the cloudbuster and hit the button again. Danny watched as an almost invisible trail, like haze on a hot road, shot out of the tubes and reached high into the sky. The grey cloud grew even bigger.

‘One more time!’ Danny shouted.

‘Give me a minute,’ Huxley said and made a call on his phone. ‘The Cloudbuster test was successful,’ was all he needed to say to the man on the other end.

Danny was sitting on the edge of the bow as Huxley cranked up the cloudbuster for a third time. A split second before he hit the red button, a wave hit the yacht and Huxley lost his footing. His knee knocked the pedal to release the locking mechanism and the metal tubes fell down through eighty degrees and pointed directly at Danny, but Huxley’s brain had already told his finger to push the button.

Danny took the force of the Cloudbuster blast full in the chest and disappeared. Huxley ran to the end of the deck and heard a scream in the distance. On the horizon, he saw what looked like a tiny speck splash into the water.

For full details on how to get your hands on a copy of One Day in Gitmo Nation, visit www.noagendanovels.com

One Day in Gitmo Nation - Chapter 7.12

2011-08-12T12:00:00.000-07:00

Albert Huxley heard the call from the deck and got up from the leather sofa inside the yacht’s main lounge. He couldn’t abide hot weather and had opted to stay inside for as much of this trip as he could. After all, he didn’t need to do anything unless he got the nod from the captain.

Before he could step into the baking heat outside, he met the captain who was making his way back to the bridge. ‘Huxley,’ the captain began, ‘I’ve just had a call from your man. We’re moving. He said when we get there, you need to fire up the Cloudbuster. Do you know what that means?’

‘Of course,’ Huxley said. ‘How long until we reach our destination?’

‘Just over half an hour. We need to be there by quarter past.’

Huxley checked his watch. ‘That gives me plenty of time. You’d better get going. Leave the rest to me.’

Huxley had heard Danny calling his name the whole time he’d been speaking to the captain. Danny shouted over to him as soon as he stepped onto the deck.

‘Yo, Huxley. Why is that speedboat taking my bitches back to Spain?’

‘I’m very sorry, Mr Farrell,’ Huxley said, addressing the rapper with the title that deeply annoyed him, ‘something else has come up. A priority.’

‘A motherfucking priority? We’re here to make my video. What’s more important than that?’ Huxley ignored him and examined the wooden crate sitting on the deck. ‘And another thing,’ Danny continued, ‘what’s the deal with this dirty-ass crate? You better get that moved before we start filming.’

Huxley ignored Danny again, then reached round the back of the crate and picked up a crowbar. ‘What you gonna do with that, huh?’ Danny exclaimed. Huxley shot a stare in Danny’s direction like he wanted to bury the end of the crowbar in the rapper’s head, but turned round and started to loosen the crate’s front panel. The crate was taller than Huxley and while he managed to remove the nails lower down, he struggled to the get the last two free at the top.

Danny laughed. ‘Gimme that damn thing, short-ass. In case you forgot, I’m a long legged mack daddy!’ Huxley handed the crowbar over and the rapper feinted as if he intended to hit Huxley with it. The man in the sharp suit flinched and Danny laughed even more as he removed the last two nails. ‘Ha ha ha, don’t worry white boy, I won’t hurt you. So what you got in this box?’ The last nail came free and the front panel crashed to the deck.

‘Holy shit, Huxley,’ Danny said when he saw the contents of the crate, ‘what the fuck is that?’

It was the weirdest-looking contraption Danny had ever seen. A rectangular metal frame almost six feet high held a hinged panel on the top, which had six hollow metal tubes attached to it, all five feet long. The hinged section was folded over and the tubes ran down the front of the rectangular frame towards the ground. At the top of the frame, the ends of the tubes were connected to hoses that ran back down the back of the frame into a two-foot square metal box at the base, with a hand crank lever and a big red button on top. A long rubber tube was connected to the base, with the other end coiled round the frame. The whole contraption was mounted on castors and a number of ropes hung from it for operation of the hinged section and to allow it to be dragged around.

‘It’s called a Cloudbuster. Help me get it onto the deck,’ Huxley said.

For full details on how to get your hands on a copy of One Day in Gitmo Nation, visit www.noagendanovels.com

One Day in Gitmo Nation - Chapter 7.11

2011-08-11T12:00:00.000-07:00

Danny Farrell stood on the deck of his yacht dressed only in a fluffy white robe and slippers, basking in his own contentment as the sun in a cloudless sky illuminated the speedboat full of bikini-clad babes that was heading his way.

His manager had sent him to Europe to shoot the video for his upcoming single Long Legged Mack Daddy on board a yacht that he had somehow managed to borrow for a few days. Stranger still, it hadn’t cost them a penny. But the once-unstoppable rapper D-Farrell didn’t worry about that; he needed all the financial assistance he could get. No major label would touch him with a ten foot pole at the moment, not since he voiced an opinion that, given half a chance, he would ‘tap that ass’. The ass in question belonged to Rosie Silverman, aka Anna Indiana, and Danny had just finished production on her Jailbait album. When the interviewer who asked the rapper’s opinion on Rosie told him that she was only fifteen, he dug himself into a bigger hole by following up his comment with, ‘For real? I guess I better mark a date in my diary then.’

Following advice from his manager, he’d stayed out of the public eye since then, using the time off to work on his music until he had an album’s worth of new material. And this was good material, but the head of Paradise Records had told his manager that Danny had to demonstrate that the public still wanted his music.

‘They’ve said we have to put one single out by ourselves,’ his manager had told him after returning from a meeting with Paradise Records. ‘We pay for the studio time and the video crew, but they’re going to give us the boat and as many girls in bikinis as you need to make the video. If it’s a success, they get the royalties but they’ll sign you onto a three album deal.’

That had been a month ago. Since then, the master copy of Long Legged Mack Daddy had been produced and Danny agreed to play it safe with the video and go with the timeless theme of boats ‘n’ hoes. And now the hoes were on their way toward the boat.

The speedboat pulled up next to the yacht and a member of Danny’s crew ran across the deck with a metal ladder to hang over the side. The captain came running out of the main compartment and said something to stop him, then shouted over the side at the speedboat. ‘Sorry, you’ll have to go back. We need to go.’

Danny ran over. ‘Whoah, whoah, what’s going on?’

‘I’ve had a call. We need to delay the shoot.’

‘We ain’t delayin’ nothin’. Get them bitches on my boat.’

‘It’s my boat,’ the captain said, ‘and those bitches can wait. We’ll be back here in about two hours.’

‘But that’ll be too late.’

‘Then they’ll just have to come back tomorrow.’ The captain left Danny standing on the deck, shouting for Huxley, the assistant that Paradise Records had given him for the trip.

For full details on how to get your hands on a copy of One Day in Gitmo Nation, visit www.noagendanovels.com

One Day in Gitmo Nation - Chapter 7.10

2011-08-10T12:00:00.000-07:00

After he’d taken a call from one of the scientists at Camp Alpha who wanted to confirm that Tom knew Billy Green was there—just in case he didn’t want the readiness exercise to go ahead—he spent the next ten minutes doing nothing other than sitting in his chair and staring at the video feed from the Silverman building.

Are you up to something, Gabe? he thought. Do you think you’re cleverer than me? Gabe had put all the trades through exactly as Tom had requested but he knew something was up. His concentration was broken by another phone call.

‘What?’ he snapped.

It was one of the men he’d sent to Alset that morning. ‘We’ve taken care of the Doctor.’

‘Good. Any news on the girl who works for him?’

‘Looks like she went to the lab but she’s still there.’

‘Find a place to sit tight and let me know if anything changes.’

As soon as Tom hung up, he was hit by a sudden pang of panic. He’d spent so long dealing with everything else, he’d almost forgotten about the Conway problem. He fired up another browser window.

Information > Flights > Status

A window with a blank field popped up. Tom entered Doctor Conway’s flight number and clicked the ‘Submit’ button. A map of the Atlantic ocean and western Europe appeared, with a dotted line going from New York to Rome. It was an odd path for this flight to follow, but Tom knew someone with a similar job to him who enjoyed messing with European airspace, especially when there was money to be made investing in high-speed rail. In the middle of the line approaching the Spanish coast was a cartoon plane, with the current time and exact GPS coordinates written below it.

Tom loaded up another browser.

Weapons > Orgone > CB Location

Another map loaded up, with a red dot indicating the location of a yacht just off the coast of Spain, also showing the current time and GPS coordinates. Tom went back to the map of the plane’s flight path. He clicked his mouse pointer on the cartoon plane and dragged it along the dotted line. The time and coordinates changed to indicate the exact location the plane could be found at 16:25 GMT if it maintained its current course. He wrote down the coordinates and made a phone call.

The man who answered the call was the captain of the yacht off the coast of Spain. Tom told him to move the yacht to the given coordinates by 16:15 GMT, which was about forty minutes away. The captain said he could do it and Tom left him with one final instruction.

‘Once you get there, tell our man to fire up the Cloudbuster.’

If that plan didn’t work, Tom had a contingency up his sleeve. He fired up another browser window (Weapons > Satellite > Needle 1) and sent the instructions to reposition a satellite over the north west coast of Spain at the same time as he called Gabe to tell him to short more Aircoach stock.

One way or another, that plane was going down. And Gabe was going to make a ton of cash as a result.

For full details on how to get your hands on a copy of One Day in Gitmo Nation, visit www.noagendanovels.com

One Day in Gitmo Nation - Chapter 7.9

2011-08-09T12:00:00.000-07:00

With another job well done, Tom reclined in his chair and picked up the last handful of nachos from his plate. He jumped as his phone rang, dropped the nachos and cursed as a greasy blob of cheese and salsa landed on the front of the Project Buzzkill folder. Whoever this was, it had better be important.

‘Hello? Who is this?’ Tom asked, getting out of his chair and trying to pick the nachos out of the folder without smearing the mess any further.

‘I am Sergeant Boehner from Camp Alpha,’ was the reply. ‘I have just opened an envelope and found your phone number.’

Tom checked his watch. Is it ten o’clock over there already? ‘Right. Project Buzzkill?’

‘That’s right. Would you mind telling me what this is about?’

‘You were given the first envelope by your superior officer. Am I right?’

‘That’s right.’

‘Then I don’t need to tell you anything. You just need to follow orders.’

‘But–’

‘No buts, sergeant. The men are there to vaccinate the children against canine flu. That is all. Let them through and let them do whatever they want, but you must follow their instructions to the letter. If they ask you to do something, you do it. Understand?’

‘Yes, I understand.’

Tom hung up and munched on the last of his nachos. That phone call was the last action he was supposed to take on Project Buzzkill, but he had a feeling that something else would come up. The girl who worked for Doctor Gibbs was an unknown quantity. By now she would be in the lab, maybe even picking up on anything the doctor had left for her to find. As long as his men could use her phone to track her, they would be able to stay one step ahead just in case she decided to do anything stupid.

Tom threw the folder onto the bed behind him, leaving it open for the nacho stains to dry. There was no chance of any law enforcement agency investigating what was going on in the hotel, but Tom laughed to himself at the fact that the forensic team wouldn’t have to do much to find out who was pulling the strings of Project Buzzkill. All they had to do was pull a fingerprint out of the blob of guacamole on the sheet of paper that described the effects of combining the H1K9 vaccine with tainted Pepsi.

Tom turned his attention to more pressing matters: making money. He took another look at his boss’s online investment portfolio and saw that Gabe had put the trades through as he had ordered. The stock prices of Aircoach and Coolbox were heading in the right directions. Time to see what Gabe looks like, he thought and fired up another page from his bookmarks.

Surveillance > Cameras > Silverman > Wall St Brokers Office

A grainy black and white video feed appeared in the middle of the browser window. It showed an expansive open-plan office floor with just one desk and one person sitting at it: Gabe. In the distance Tom could see Ike Silverman sitting in his glass office. He saw Gabe get out of his chair and decided that was the right time to make a call to check up on him and place some more trades. You’re not taking any breaks on my time, young man. I’m going to keep the heat on you all day.

Tom watched Gabe run back to his desk when the phone started to ring. ‘Gabe, it’s Bill. Looking at the markets, I hope those trades went through okay ...’

‘No problems at all.’

‘Good. Look, I need you to short another one hundred thousand Aircoach. Can you do that in the next five minutes?’

‘You mean before the press conference starts?’

Tom was taken aback. He knows something’s up, he thought, wanting to tell Gabe to keep his nose out if he wanted to make it out of that building alive when the markets closed. Tom let the silence between them hang for dramatic effect before finishing the call with, ‘Just put the trade through now,’ and hung up.

For full details on how to get your hands on a copy of One Day in Gitmo Nation, visit www.noagendanovels.com

One Day in Gitmo Nation - Chapter 7.8

2011-08-08T12:00:00.000-07:00

Tom just made it back from the bathroom in time to pick up another call, this time from his boss.

‘Good afternoon, slave!’

‘Hey boss, how’s it going down there?’

‘Great. The speech went down really well. Thanks for helping me out with it.’

‘No problem. Is there anything specific I can do for you or are you just calling for an update?’

‘There is one thing but it can wait. What’s going on?’

Tom thought about where was best to start. ‘Well, you were right about Doctor Conway. He’s killed all the clones. I’ve found him, though. Right now he’s on a plane over the Atlantic, heading to Europe.’

‘Slippery bastard, that Conway. We can’t let him land.’

‘Don’t worry, I’ve got it under control.’

‘Good man. And the readiness exercises?’

‘The package should be on its way to the camp right now. I’ve asked the guys in Langley to get Gaga ready.’ Tom heard a beep to indicate he had a voicemail message waiting for him.

‘Excellent. That’s what I was calling about. I’ve heard from the Veep: we’re going full steam ahead with Project Crackpot today.’

‘During the TV appearance?’

‘Damn right. Make sure they do the switcheroo and take Harry for questioning. I want to know exactly what he was planning to say at the war inquiry.’

‘Does that matter? I mean, seeing as he’ll be dead by then. Well, as good as.’

‘Dot the i’s and cross the t’s, Tom, you know me. I’ll come upstairs later and say hello. Keep up the good work.’

They exchanged goodbyes and hung up. His boss was the only person Tom bothered to keep on the phone long enough to say goodbye to. He checked his message: it was from a broker called Gabe at Silverman’s bank. He found his phone charger, plugged it in and called Gabe back. This was going to be a long day on the phone.

‘Gabe, it’s Bill. When the market opens, short ten thousand Aircoach and buy ten thousand Coolbox. Stop loss at ten per cent. If we’re not losing any money after an hour, add another fifty thousand onto each of them and spread the word. Got it?’

‘Er ... yes. Just one thing?’ Gabe asked.

‘What?’

‘I don’t have an account number for you.’

‘It’s the same as the phone number on the business card. Don’t fuck this up, Gabe. We’re going to make a shitload of money today.’

Tom hung up.

For full details on how to get your hands on a copy of One Day in Gitmo Nation, visit www.noagendanovels.com