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  David Zadikoff, a 42 year old international dealer in precious gems and metals, most of it all above board and all of it extremely lucrative, is the quiet, unassuming one of the bunch. He’s always thinking, but no one ever knows what about. He’s extremely clever and nothing escapes his attention. He’s also the handsome one of the bunch. His 6’1”, 195 pound athletic physique, with its deep blue eyes and thick jet black wavy hair, attracts the fairer sex like a light does flies and this sometimes gets him into trouble.

  Samuel Ferguson, the odd ball of the group, doesn’t own any companies, doesn’t sit on any boards of directors, isn’t wealthy, but is invaluable to The Last Resort because he is President Weinstein’s Press Secretary and is privy to a lot of inside information. He blames all politicians for the mess the country has been forced to tolerate. He’s the loose cannon in the group. He gets highly emotional during strategy meetings and his behavior is often unpredictable. He sometimes takes unnecessary risks because he becomes impatient. He’s 43 years old, 6’2” tall, weighs 205 lbs., has black curly hair, dark brown eyes and is built like a lumber jack. Like David, the ladies fall all over him, but unlike David he’s not interested. He’s not gay. He’s just decided to put all of his energy into making America a better place to live, work and play as long as it’s by their rules.

  The reasoning behind the selection of the term autocracy is somewhat convoluted in that these men consider The Last Resort as a single legal entity unto itself which meets the definition of autocracy, one person possessing unlimited power. They are not, however, oligarchs in that their mindsets are not corrupt or self-serving. They truly believe that the utopia they are seeking to establish is the panacea for all of America’s troubles and worth whatever the cost might be in monetary or human resources. It sounds ludicrous, but they are deadly serious.

  Their game plan is to create unprecedented havoc without giving any hint of whom or what might be behind the bedlam until the very last minute. When the final decisions have to be made by the powers that be, The Last Resort wants them to be made in an atmosphere of complete collapse and desperate capitulation.

  It’s amazing that these men are so dedicated to the destruction of the very system that afforded them the opportunity to attain their elite status, to accumulate their vast wealth, power and prestige. To an outsider, if their existence was to be made public, their altruism might very well be construed as camouflage to cover up their true intentions of obtaining omnipotence to preserve what they have. Nothing would be further from the truth, however, as these fanatics are truly dedicated to their cause.

  Tapping on his champagne glass Halkias says, “Gentlemen, may I have your attention please. As you all know, our first step towards our ultimate goal was taken without a hitch. My one word critique of the outcome is “splendid” and I’m sure you all agree. The foundation has now been laid for our next more damaging step to be taken. Are we all still in agreement about what that next step should be? If anyone has any reservations or wants to add something, please speak up.”

  After ten seconds of silence, he continues. “Alright then, beginning at midnight tomorrow, the entire North Eastern Seaboard from Maine to Maryland will experience a total power outage. These states will be without power for three full days and then the remaining Eastern Seaboard states will be added to the region affected. Public awareness that something strange is going on will be heightened. The news media will see to that. Causal theories will be propounded, probably becoming increasingly bizarre as the concern, consternation and tension begin to mount. It will still be too early in the process for panic to set in, but people will be starting to become aware that something very serious has shown up on their doorstep.”

  David Zadikoff expresses a concern he has. “Bob, we’ve contributed substantial amounts of money to your research and development program and have not bothered you with a lot of nuisance questions or interfered with you in any way. The equipment and software you have produced is everything you said it would be and worth every dime we’ve spent. It is so good, however, that it would be a very tempting target for industrial espionage if its existence were ever to become known outside of our group. I fear the possibility that one or more of your employees might decide to try to cash in on the knowledge they have.

  “The rest of us are quite nescient when it comes to your area of expertise, so, in words that we can understand, will you please explain what security measures you have in place to address this possibility?”

  Feldman somewhat annoyed that anyone would even think of questioning him about such matters responds with, “From the very beginning, everything associated with the program was designated Top Secret and all of the memos and other means of communication with the employees involved were worded to create the impression that it was a government contract they were working on. All of the research, engineering, manufacturing, programming and testing was broken down into unrelated sub-projects with fictitious names and purposes. Only the most thoroughly security vetted employees were assigned to these projects and they and anything they were carrying was subjected to a physical and electronic search upon entering and leaving the work place. All telephone conversations and emails were monitored and security cameras cover every nook and cranny and are monitored by security staff in a central control room. I am the one, the only one, who put all of the pieces together. Everything that could be done to cover all possible contingencies has been done.”

  The gambler in Ronald Baltzinger prompts him to ask, “What would you say the odds are that somebody will come up with counter measures to deal with your creations before we can achieve our goal?”

  “Within the 90 day time frame we’ve set for ourselves, astronomical. The devices and software we’ve developed are quite unique in that nothing like them exists. Unlike other jamming techniques, our devices don’t generate frequencies stronger than the ones targeted for disruption. Instead, they generate an impenetrable, dimensionally flexible electromagnetic force field that blocks, shatters and scatters selected frequencies and wavelengths. They are lightweight, portable and transported in soundless, solar powered birdlike drones with tiny digital cameras that are remotely controlled as far away as 2000 miles from our targets. They can land anywhere a real bird can land and can be flown away if they attract any unwanted attention. They blend in with their surroundings and should remain undetected for the time period we’re concerned about. They are the ideal tool when we are dealing with communication towers, antennae and dishes.

  “When we are dealing with cable and computer systems, hacking takes center stage. There are a variety of hacking methods available to anyone knowledgeable in the field and some of these people are phenomenal when it comes to bypassing password obstacles, firewalls, finding open ports, etc. and they are equally formidable when it comes to creating preventative measures.

  “So we wouldn’t waste time re-inventing the wheel, we’ve taken existing software dealing with scripting such as Bash for manipulating servers, Python and Ruby for automatizing various tasks, ASM for exploiting programs and pOf and nmap which deal with identifying types of operating systems and open ports, made some changes and added some of our own proprietary software and have come up with a superior hacking tool that is undetectable with the technology available today. This doesn’t preclude the possibility that someone will come up with a way to deal with our intrusion, but, in my opinion, it will be extremely unlikely that anyone will do so within the next 90 days.”

  Sam Ferguson joins in with, “Who are the people controlling these drones? How much do they know about our intent? Can they be trusted to keep their mouths shut?”

  “Halkias answers with, “To provide another layer of insurance against our venture being discovered, these individuals are not employees of IISS. I’ve handpicked these people myself from resources I’ve used in clandestine operations in the past. They are 100% reliable; they ask only the questions that need to be asked to get the job done, they don’t let their curiosity ge
t the better of them, and they know how and when to button their lips. They have been told that these birds are being used to gather information on my competitors’ operations. They are not scientists or computer whiz kids, so they have accepted this explanation without any reservations. Even if they didn’t, as long as they get paid the generous fee I’ve offered them, they couldn’t care less what I’m up to.”

  James Hollingsworth says, “I think we’ve got all the bases covered. Let’s do it.”, saying this like there is no need for further discussion and the final decision is his.

  The only one who hasn’t been heard from yet is George Palmer who’s been noticeably quiet. This is not like him. He usually has something to say. Halkias asks, “George, is something bothering you? You haven’t said a word all night.”

  “I’ve been thinking about the overall impact this power outage is going to have on us here in this room. We all have emergency generators at home and employ solar energy at many of our facilities in this country, but a lot of our customers do not. The cost to us of this power outage and the rest of what we have planned is going to be considerable.”

  “George, you knew going in that what we were planning to do was going to be expensive. Why the concern now?”

  “When we first talked, I was thinking that my financial contribution to the effort would come from existing assets, not from future assets. We’re going to be messing with those future assets and I’m uncomfortable with that. Before you say anything, I know that my commitment to The Last Resort is irreversible and I have no intention of trying to abrogate that commitment. I’m just worried about the ultimate cost of what we have on the agenda and if it will be possible to recuperate that cost.”

  “Rest assured my friend, the ultimate benefits to be derived from the success of what we have embarked upon will more than compensate us for the depletion of our resources.

  “Okay gentlemen, at midnight tomorrow our next foray will be launched. We will meet back here at 9:00 a.m. four days from now to assess the results. Good Evening.”

  With that, everyone gets up and files out of the suite. Halkias saunters over to the bar to pour himself a short Ouzo, still thinking about what George Palmer had said. “I’m going to have to keep an eye on Mr. Palmer. I might have to do something about him.”

  Chapter 1

  -Somewhere Along the Coast of New Hampshire-

  It’s late, the wind has kicked up making it even more difficult to see through the soupy fog that has settled in and it is starting to rain. A perfect ending to what has been a perfectly miserable evening. Ed and Pam Appercelli are driving home on a two lane country road in one of the quaint colonial villages on the coast of New Hampshire. They have just left a party held by Ed’s boss to celebrate a record quarter in sales and they are exhausted from having to endure all of the insincere glad handing and butt kissing that is always prevalent at these shindigs. The food and music were great, but not good enough to offset the phoniness that pervaded every conversation, every nuance, every attitude and this was augmented by the subtle back stabbing by some of the higher ups who have raised it to an art form.

  “Ed, the next time Brad has one of these parties of his I’m going to be sick. I don’t want to deal with them anymore.”

  “I know how you feel and they’re getting worse. Unfortunately, since I’m the East Coast Regional Manager I have to show up.”

  “Well I don’t and won’t. That Gail Gilchrist is a first class….. What the …..”

  At that moment, everything went pitch black. The only light was coming from their headlights which was bouncing back off the wall of fog and blinding them. Ed slowed the car to a crawl, straining to see where he was going. “Damn! This is not good. I can’t see well enough to find a safe place to pull over and park until this fog lifts and if I stop here someone could rear end us. All of the street lights, house lights and even the traffic light up ahead at Washington Avenue are out.”

  “Maybe one of the houses along the road has those solar lights around their lawn that we could use to guide us to a safe place to park, like in a driveway.”

  “Good thinking, Pam. I’ll creep along using the center line in our headlights as a guide to keep us on the road and you keep your eyes peeled for any solar lights.”

  A couple of minutes later, Ed loses sight of the center line. Since he’s become disoriented and scared to death, he doesn’t realize that they are in the middle of the Washington Avenue intersection and he stops to try to get his bearings.

  Another vehicle, a big SUV, is approaching the intersection on Ed’s side of their car, windows open, stereo blasting and moving way too fast for the weather conditions. The driver is also using the center line as a guide to keep him on the road. The Appercellis can’t see the other car, but they can see a glimmer from its headlights and they can hear the music. The next thing they hear, the last thing they hear, is the screeching of brakes and the crunching of metal as the SUV hits them broadside. Ed and Pam no longer have to worry about dealing with any more of Brad’s parties.

  Chapter 2

  -Bethesda-

  The National Navy Medical Center, Bethesda, MD is a first class hospital that is known for its state of the art medical facilities and its capable staff. They are accustomed to handling all kinds of emergencies and aren’t rattled easily. At 11:45 p.m. on a Monday evening, they are once again put to the test. President Ira Weinstein’s 13 years old son, Jacob, is being wheeled into the emergency room with what the paramedics believe is a swollen appendix.

  One of the ER doctors examines the boy and concurs. “Judging from the amount of swelling and amount of pain the lad is in, his appendix could burst at any moment. Nurse, prep him for surgery stat.”

  As the doctor is in the process of making his incision, the appendix bursts and the lights go out. There is a chorus of “Oh shits and other curses, but otherwise the operating room staff is not too concerned because the emergency generator should kick in right away. It doesn’t. It remains pitch black, the medical monitoring equipment has shut down and the doctor is considering continuing the operation by feel because if he does nothing the patient could die.

  The silence that has settled over the room is suddenly broken by one of the male nurses shouting out, “Damn! My Maglite! Doc, I’ve got a small flashlight on my key ring in my pocket. It throws a fairly strong beam. It might give you enough light to do your thing.”

  “I’m glad you remembered. Let’s give it a try. Any light is better than none.”

  It was enough for the operation to be completed successfully and for massive amounts of antibiotics to be administered, but only time would tell if any serious damage had been done to any internal organs by the bacteria released by the ruptured appendix.

  Another patient in the operating room next door wasn’t as fortunate. He died from massive internal hemorrhaging that occurred during what should have been a routine benign tumor removal from the patient’s upper bowel.

  Chapter 3

  -Hartford-

  It is 11:55 p. m. in downtown Hartford, CT and officers Tom McGregor and Pat Paglisse have

  just finished the last of the doughnuts they’d picked up at Tanya’s Tasty Treats when they came

  on duty. They’ve been sitting in their patrol car which they’ve backed into an alley talking about sports and how expensive it’s gotten to attend any professional sports event when they hear the sound of glass breaking.

  When they pull out to investigate, they see two men breaking into a BMW X5 parked a half block away in front of an apartment building. They start the gumball flashing and the siren blaring and Tom puts the pedal to the metal to head them off before they can hotwire the car, but these guys are pros and get the car started and are laying rubber before Tom can get into position to stop them. Now they’re barreling down Main Street in hot pursuit of two crazy carjackers with the speed of the chase sometimes approaching 85 miles per hour and these nuts are blazing through red lights without even a tap on the br
akes. “This ain’t good Tom. I’ll radio in for assistance and you back off a little, but keep them in sight.”

  The next instant there’s a major power outage and bedlam breaks out everywhere. The entire city is in a shroud of darkness and all of the police communication channels are jammed with officers requesting assistance for one calamity or another. “Shit! It looks like we’re on our own Tom. I can’t get through.”

  The chase continues for another 15 minutes throughout the city until luck intervenes, all bad. Taking a sharp curve in the road too fast, the BMW crashes into a concrete abutment, bounces off, flips several times, winding up on its roof and blocking the roadway. To avoid ramming into the BMW, Tom swerves into the oncoming lane and runs head on into a semi moving at a fairly good clip. All four are pronounce dead at the scene.