Jürgen sighed, then pasted a blank expression on his face as the officials filed into the room and made themselves coffee before sitting down. Two of them wore military uniforms, the remainder civilian suits; he discovered, not entirely to his surprise, that he recognised a handful of the civilians. But then, the National Security Advisor was a well-known political figure. And yet… why was he here?
“Over the past month, there have been several investigations into odd technology appearing from overseas,” the agent said, opening the briefing. “Our investigations eventually collided with a DHS investigation, which made the entire problem considerably more worrisome.”
He tapped a switch, activating the projector. A picture of a USB stick-like device appeared in front of them. “This, gentlemen, is a Wilhelm Tech Wireless Internet Dongle,” he said. “The devices were introduced two weeks ago in a low-key manner, mainly through internet forums and tech sites, then sold from Switzerland through mail order. On the surface, these devices are nothing more extraordinary than any other form of internet connection system. However, they have various… attributes that made them potentially very dangerous.”
Jürgen frowned. An internet dongle? How was that related to missing veterans?
“The dongles have what is probably best described as an extreme range,” the agent continued. “To put it in perspective, they are capable of reaching access points located within thousands of miles of the dongle — we don’t know where — and logging on. Once they have logged on, they have a very high rate of transmission and access to the internet, allowing downloads to be completed faster than ever before. Finally, the signals they use are almost completely undetectable except at very close range.”
He paused for effect. “What this means,” he said, “is that anyone using one of these systems can browse the internet without being traced or monitored by our systems.”
“Anyone,” one of the unnamed officers said.
“Anyone,” the agent confirmed. “The packaging claims a considerable degree of improvement over previous designs, but some tests have revealed that the claims are… well, understated. Heavily understated. But the geek communities have already figured out how to use the dongles to surf the internet without any restrictions at all. The results have been interesting — and quite worrying.”
“I see,” the National Security Advisor said. “Where are these things coming from?”
“Wilhelm Tech,” the agent said. “They’re a small company, incorporated in both the States and Switzerland, with a good reputation for producing pieces of advanced technology at reasonable prices. We’ve asked the Swiss to investigate, but they’re stalling. They see no reason to enforce our laws for us, nor to kill the goose that lays the golden eggs. By being incorporated in two places, they evade most of our laws governing technology transfer.”
He hesitated. “Something like this should have been born secret,” he said, referring to the government’s rule that certain pieces of technology, no matter who produced them, were automatically considered classified. “Instead, the news is out and spreading.”
One of the unnamed civilians leaned forward. “Can’t you duplicate the technology?”
“Not so far,” the agent admitted. “So far, we have acquired two dongles and tried to take them both apart. They both shattered on the table, leaving us with a pile of debris and a mystery. But we can tell you some odd things about the tech. For a start, while Wilhelm Tech is on the cutting edge of computer software, these devices seem an order of magnitude more advanced than anything known, even to us.
“This led to an investigation of Wilhelm Tech,” he continued. “We discovered that they purchased a considerable amount of supplies from various produces in the States…”
“That’s a good thing, isn’t it?” The civilian asked. “It’s far better to plough the money back into the States than send it to China.”
“It may be,” the agent said. “But their shopping list is rather odd… and it’s all being shipped to a ranch in Montana. The same ranch where a number of veterans seem to be going — and then vanishing from sight.”
He nodded to Jürgen. “Tell them what you told us.”
Jürgen took a breath. He’d never had to brief such a high-ranking group before; hell, he’d never had to brief anyone more senior than his boss. His throat felt dry, but there was no time to take a sip of water.
“To summarise a complicated issue,” he said, “a large number of veterans, some of whom should have been unable to move, have transferred themselves to the Stuart Ranch in Montana. Since then, there has been no trace of their existence on Earth, nor does there seem to be enough facilities on the Ranch to take care of them. We have been unable to determine what might be happening there.”
He sat down. The agent stood again.
“We researched the ranch extensively when we realised that it was involved in the growing mystery,” the agent said. “There were some worrying signs. Steve Stuart, the current owner of the Ranch, resigned from the Marine Corps in 2013, following an… incident in Afghanistan. Since them, he has been a regular commenter on conservative and liberal blogs, arguing in favour of the Second Amendment, small government and consistent law enforcement. He was involved, politically speaking, in a successful attempt to recall a local politician and force him out of office.
“Furthermore, his uncle was actually the target of an ATF investigation in the wake of the Oklahoma City bombing. Apparently, he and his family knew McVeigh personally, although the investigators concluded that they’d known nothing about the plot. The uncle in question was an army explosives expert, who would have made sure to produce a proper bomb that would have taken out the whole building.”
There was a pause. One of the civilians finally broke it. “Has Steve Stuart himself come to ATF’s attention?”
“Not directly,” the agent said, “but he’s on a watch list.”
Jürgen sighed. Anyone who supported the Second Amendment publically was on an ATF watch list. It didn’t matter how they supported it, or how many guns they possessed; hell, there were pro-gun campaigners who owned no guns who were still targeted for observation.
“He isn’t a member of the NRA, for what it’s worth,” the agent said. “He was a member, but resigned two years ago, claiming that the organisation had allowed politics to impede its primary purpose for existence. Some of his family are members, however, while others are members of other pro-gun groups. One of them is even a member of Jews for the Preservation of Firearms Ownership.
“He’s also a licensed instructor in small arms, particularly concealed carry, with an enviable safety record. So far, we have been unable to locate any complaints against him, save a report that he insisted on someone using a gun more suited to her hand. It never went any further than grousing.”
The agent looked from face to face. “But we are faced with a disturbing mystery,” he said. “We have a large number of men, experienced with weapons, who have vanished off the face of the Earth. We have pieces of technology that could easily be used against us, seemingly connected to the disappearing men. And we have a ranch owned by someone who cannot be counted a wholehearted friend of the government. I believe, sirs, that we should act quickly to counter this threat.”
But you don’t even know there is a threat, Jürgen thought. He had to admit it was odd — where were the men going? — but it didn’t necessarily mean it was a threat. Maybe there was a retirement home on the ranch for the veterans. Or perhaps there was a perfectly innocent explanation, one that might be lost if the DHS troopers charged in like stormtroopers and started a fight. Somehow, he doubted the ranchers would come quietly. There were too many horror stories about ATF task forces shooting the wrong people for anyone to be complacent about surrendering themselves to their custody.