Anarchy in New Enlgand

Anarchy In New England

Joe Jarvis

Anarchy in New England by Joe Jarvis is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License. To view a copy of this license, visit
http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/4.0/

Published by Free Press Publications

http://FPP.cc

ISBN: 1-9383571-9-1

ISBN 13: 978-1-938357-19-0

Free Press Publications is an independent alternative media / publishing company, founded in June 2009, with the mission of “ensuring a FREE PRESS for the FREEDOM MOVEMENT” and to also give new authors an avenue for publishing freedom oriented material.

One

A window popped up, flashing red along the margins, on one of the three large screens surrounding the operator. She was seated at one of the control panels on the top floor of New England Security Agency headquarters.

"Control to units, respond: 453 in progress at Riverside Bank, Worcester region, 1725 Atlantis Ave." She calmly spoke into her headset after activating the proper channel.

"Ground unit NESA21pv two kilometers north, in transit," immediately came the first reply, as a blue circle began blinking on an electronic map on the control panel. The light quickly halted, and reversed direction.

"Pv unit in transit," the operator repeated back, requesting air support, please respond."

"Air unit AP17a 4.8 kilometers southwest, in transit. Will drop tactical response unit AP3t at scene." This was a skyship unit from Atlas Protection responding to the call. A blue blinking triangle lit up on the map.

Another window popped up on the center screen at the operator station; this one showed overhead video from a satellite which had locked onto three men running down a street lined with buildings.

"Negative," The operator continued in her monotone voice, "Suspects fleeing south on foot down Sunset Lane. Establish visual before intervention. Two light skinned males, mid-twenties and early thirties, black clothing, one dark skinned male, black clothing, late twenties. At least two armed. All average height, average weight, one positive ID on facial recog, one tracker embedded, confirm signal."

"21pv confirming signal, in pursuit."

"Affirmative, 17a confirming signal, in transit, 2.2 kilometers south."

"453 at Riverside Bank, Worcester region, suspects fleeing south on Sunset Ave. Units in vicinity of Sunset mag-pod station respond," the operator relayed.

"NESA37pf .6 kilometers south on Sunset, in transit."

"Pf unit in transit, secure mag-pod station upon arrival. One suspect embedded with tracker, confirm signal."

"37pf confirming signal!" this time the response was not as dry, with heavy breathing. The two officers making up the foot patrol unit were running towards the station.

"21pv exiting vehicle, continuing pursuit on foot."

"17a has visual on two suspects, one light male with tracker, one dark male. Suspects turning, heading east on Cricket Ave."

"17a drop tactical unit AP3t 400 meters east of suspects, confirm drop," demanded the NESA operator.

It was about 20 seconds before the next update came into NESA headquarters from the air unit.

"17a confirming AP3t has repelled and is on the ground engaging suspects. Looks like 21pv is arriving on the scene. Suspects appear to be surrendering."

"Unit 21pv confirming, suspects have surrendered, and are subdued," the officer spat out between huffing and puffing.

The operator replied, in a tone that for the first time contained hints of enthusiasm, "A-ffirmitive. Good work. AP17a transport suspects to NESA processing center."

"17a confirming."

Another window popped up on the control panel, with flashing red borders. The operator transitioned seamlessly. She pressed a series of buttons to connect her to the proper channel.

"We have visual on third suspect of 453 at Riverside Bank, but no facial ID. Suspect is white, early thirties, wearing sunglasses. North Atlantic Clothing Group location 320 West Rock Street Worcester region, security cameras have suspect on surveillance, he appears to be attempting to blend in with shoppers. Units respond. Suspect may be armed."

"Ground unit MA112pf 500 meters west on West Rock Street, in transit." This time a foot patrol unit from Minutemen Arms responded to the operator.

"Pf unit in transit."

"Air unit MA54a 10 kilometers north, in transit."

"Air unit in transit, 112pf wait for MA54a before engaging suspect," the operator advised.

"Affirmative."

It was three minutes before the Minutemen Arms skyship arrived, and dropped their tactical response team.

"MA54a on scene, MA13t on ground. We have eyes on all exits to North Atlantic Clothing Group, in contact with 112pf."

"NESA dispatch confirming, proceed with engagement cautiously."

Another minute passed as the operator kept her eyes on the satellite video, streaming coverage from above the clothing store.

"MA13t has apprehended suspect without incident, will transport to NESA processing center via MA54a."

"Affirmative!" again, the operator’s voice betrayed the slightest hint of enthusiasm. She concluded in monotone, "453 at Riverside Bank in Worcester region has been resolved, all units resume normal operations."

Mr. Drake sat at the head of the conference table mid-morning on Monday, the first day of fall. He looked like a bulldog ready for a nap. No one talked as his finger brushed from screen to screen on his tablet, thumbing through various reports from various offices of New England Security Agency. He read that for the second quarter in a row, NESA had barely broken even, squeezing quite minimal profits from the company that handled all kinds of personal security and investigation.

These meetings were awkward for Drake’s management. To a certain extent their hands were tied, in all the wrong ways. Drake would insist on approving every single inter-company relation. This made NESA lose out on promising partnerships with other companies.

Drake, heavyset and medium height with a receding hairline, looked down over non-existent reading glasses. His head was tucked back so that his double chin blocked any sight of his actual neck. Everyone, not just his employees, addressed him as Mr. Drake, except a handful of friends who just called him Drake.

Drake looked back and forth between two executives, keeping his droopy eyes on each one for a few seconds. The younger of the two, a small dark male in his thirties called Jay was a public relations executive who had been with the company for 2 years, brought on in an attempt to transition NESA into a more modern economy. He was naturally energetic, and spoke up when he couldn’t take the uncomfortable silence.

"I think that we should reach out to the Initiative for a Clean Environment and partner with them on a couple of basic services – nothing too elaborate!" he  added, understanding full well the natural aversion Drake had to these sorts of collaborations. When he spoke his words seemed to bounce out of him. "But if you think about what people want these days, I mean, who is thinking about home invasions anymore? That’s a thing of the past. People are more worried about pollution, clean air, clean water, sustainability. All we gotta do is give ICE members access to highway 90, to show we care. ICE tells their contributors and readers, and it creates some positive buzz. Word will spread, and maybe we get another opportunity to use 90 to our benefit. I mean, we’re barely making anything off it now, we might as well use it as a bargaining piece, or get a little free advertising out of it."

Silence. It sounded to Drake like he would be giving away something for nothing. After all, if he didn’t give away a few hundred thousand 90 passes to ICE contributors, some of them might use the highway anyway, and pay the toll. He wasn’t sure it would drum up enough business to be worth it. Then again people only drove for fun these days anyway, preferring the magnet tunnels which sent pods zooming through above ground vacuum tubes, propelled by alternating electro magnets.

Drake didn’t like the hassle. He was the type that just wanted to sell a product, and get money in return; he didn’t understand why he always needed to be bothered with charity and business relations. He thought back fondly to the days when NESA was a customers’ one stop shop for all their security needs.

"Alright Jay. Let’s see if we can get some value out of that highway," Drake said, giving in. "Next order of business?"

"Sir, if you don’t mind, I wanted to bring up the attempted bank robbery this morning at Riverside Bank," said the Vice President of Operations. Drake just looked up from his tablet at his VPO and waited. By now the VPO knew this meant to proceed.

"It was handled quite well, but I am concerned with the nature of the crime. This is the first attempted bank robbery in our area of coverage in…" he looked down at his tablet screen, "8 years. I don’t think we should investigate this as an isolated incident, but rather as part of a possibly growing problem of cartels from New York City."

Drake’s blood-hound eyes glanced around the room. "And how much would that cost?" he drawled slowly.

The VPO glanced at the Vice President of Finance, who chimed in, sounding bored, "We’d be looking at about 20% above normal costs," then he added as an afterthought, "but it could always save us money down the road."

"They’re still at the processing center, is that correct?" Drake asked.

The VPO answered, "Yes, they are going to be transferred to confinement soon, to await arbitration."                                                                                                                                                             

"So their security companies didn’t put up any fight?" the VPF added curiously.

"Only one of them even had representation; a company out in the New York City region. We sent them everything we had and they said it was fine to hold him. They’re going to have an attorney contact one of ours so they can review the evidence. For the other one arbitration is going to let us know what they recommend for sentencing, if he is found guilty."

"Before you proceed with the larger scale investigation," Drake spoke slowly and deeply, his head tilted forward, so it seemed like he was looking down at everyone in the room, "Just check to see if they are in fact connected to any New York City cartels."

The VPO nodded.

The bored sounding VPF chimed in, "I thought there were three suspects?"

"Sorry..." the VPO interjected looking at his tablet concerned, with a furrowed brow, "It appears the third suspect never made it to the processing center. He was being transported by Minutemen Arms. The Atlas Protection skyship made the drop of the first two suspects, but the Minutemen Arms skyship never arrived at the processing center. It appears to have resumed normal operations and is back out on patrol."

Drake took a moment to respond, "Was the suspect embedded with a tracker?"

"No, we have that one in custody; he got tagged by the tracker at the bank when the alarm was tripped. For some reason we never got facial recognition on the missing suspect. Should I alert our dispatcher?"

"Hold on, hold on," Drake held up his hand, "Jay, what does the public know so far?"

"Nothing sir, other than that there was an attempted bank robbery, and we thwarted it."

Drake appeared to be deep in thought for some moments. "We have two suspects in custody. We don’t even know where to start looking for this third guy: no tracker, identity unknown. No one was hurt… Let this one go, we’ll prosecute the men we have in custody."

An awkward silence filled the room, and the executives were visibly uncomfortable; some stared at the table or blankly at their tablet screens.

Jay spoke up, "Sir, if the public found out…"

"It is
your
job, Jay, to make sure the public
does not
find out." Drake’s dragon stare made eye contact impossible for Jay to maintain.

After some silence, the VPO timidly spoke up, "Should I inquire with Minutemen Arms how-"

"This issue is closed. Prosecute the two we have. Minutemen Arms will be just as happy not to be probed as to their transport failures. We needn’t waste the resources. Anything else?" Drake asked, glancing around the room without moving his head.

"Yes sir," the younger voice of Jay spoke up again from further down the table, a bit timid, but still energetic. "You said you wanted me to bring by any new public relations representatives… so that you could make sure they understand how the company has evolved."

The seasoned executives braced themselves for a speech they had heard many times before, in one version or another. Drake made sure anyone new in management heard it from him: their jobs were owed to the selfless and tedious effort his family had exhorted in growing the company from nothing.

"Ah yes. Tell me…" Drake paused for a bit too long and the new executive in his 30’s interjected nervously –

"Hunter."

Drake just looked at him almost confused. He hadn’t paused to get the man’s name, but rather to collect his own thoughts. After another pause where Drake pursed his lips and looked away to collect himself as Hunter’s cheeks turned red, Drake continued: "Tell me, what do you know about New England Security Agency?"

The new hire launched into his knowledge of NESA, speaking a bit too quickly, swallowing and clearing his throat a little too often. "Uh, well, sir, uh, I know that New England Security Agency is one of the longest continuously operating personal security agencies in New England. I know it was, uh, started by your grandfather as a policing agency for people in the Worcester area almost, ahem, 70 years ago." Nervous swallow, clearing of the throat. "I believe I read that NESA first did work for a larger company, uh, Cape Cod Criminology who focused on investigation, mostly along the coast of the region."