Time to Pay the Piper

By Andrew Mooney

America is about to be hit by a perfect storm—facing attack both from within and from abroad.

With the nation drowning in debt, rogue elements in the US Government are launching an audacious plan to target the most vulnerable people in the country. Inspired by recently unearthed Nazi research from World War II, this shady cabal of Washington insiders intends the unthinkable—the elimination of a whole swathe of the American population. Millions will be targeted, virtually overnight.

Can CIA analyst Rachael Walker stop the slaughter of her countrymen? Can the constitution of the USA survive such an all-out attack from within?

And will China use the time of mayhem playing out in America to advance its goal of becoming the world's dominant superpower?

Time To Pay The Piper is a gripping and timely novel that will grab the reader from the very first page, highlighting America's vulnerability at a time when its biggest enemy is on the rise.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Andrew Mooney
• Release date: Apr 11, 2020
• ISBN: 9780648802808

Book preview

Chapter One

CIA Headquarters,

McLean, Virginia

Rachael Walker stared pensively out of the window of her office. She was deep in thought, and the weather outside matched her mood. Grey and stormy. Her office door was closed, and she had left her light turned off, as she did not want anybody to interrupt her. The gloomy room only added to her sense of frustration.

Six months ago, just after the inauguration of the newly elected president, her boss, special assistant director of the CIA, David Seagull, had promoted her to head of the Financial War Games Department. The role of this department was to construct war games that focused not on bullets and bombs — but on how hostile nations might seek to cripple the US economy. The promotion was unexpected, as she was one of the more junior analysts in the department. And she had only worked for the CIA for five years since graduating at the top of her class from the prestigious Harvard Business School.

The promotion had caused resentment amongst her colleagues, and she could understand their bitterness. Many had years more experience than her, and they all felt that someone more senior should get the promotion. A considerable number of her male colleagues still carried an old-school gender bias, and could not tolerate working for a woman. Especially a woman who not only displayed razor-sharp intelligence but was also stunningly beautiful. Her long black silky hair perfectly complemented her Eurasian features, inherited from her Caucasian father and Vietnamese mother.

In fact, many of her female colleagues, too, resented her beauty and considered that she had only received the promotion by sleeping her way to the top.

But this did not bother Rachael that much. She had battled against these sorts of prejudices her entire life, and every slight just stiffened her resolve that she would, eventually, be judged on her merits. Not on her looks or because of her sex. Sometimes, when she was alone with her thoughts, she wondered about David Seagull’s motivation in promoting her. She could not help but feel that somehow she was being set up. The idea kept nagging at her, but she could not work out how or why she was being manipulated. Maybe she was just being paranoid.

However, the assignment that David Seagull had given her last week did perturb her. Seagull had told Rachael that her entire team would meet with the new president, Christian Palatine, in precisely six weeks’ time. And Seagull expected that Rachael would give a comprehensive presentation to the president on the perilous state of the United States budget, and what the Financial War Games Department considered to be the most likely threats to the United States’ economy. Especially from other world powers such as China and Russia. World powers that did not share the same values as the USA and would look to cause harm whenever they could.

The assignment was not that unusual. Her department routinely ran models that tried to predict the actions of countries less than friendly to America, and what impact those actions would have on her country.

What was unusual was David Seagull’s constant interference in the process of compiling the presentation. He regularly barged into her office, displaying press story after press story showing how welfare cheats were milking the system. He also interrupted meetings that she was holding with her team and would take over, always ending in a tirade that the welfare system was leading to the country’s almost certain bankruptcy.

He was rabid in his hatred of welfare claimants and viewed all of them as parasites. He demanded, again and again, that Rachael make this the focus of her presentation to the president.

Rachael was torn. She knew that the welfare system was severely flawed, but other elements were equally defective. Military spending, health expenditure, a bloated bureaucracy: each had as much to do with the sad state of the country’s finances, and each should be tackled.

But, oddly, Seagull had given her clear instructions that he wanted her to only concentrate on the welfare system, with particular emphasis on Social Security.

Rachael had a nagging feeling that somehow her promotion and this presentation were linked. Little did she know that these were but elements of an audacious scheme that David Seagull had been planning for several years.

Five weeks later

Rachael sat waiting outside the office of the David Seagull. She had been summoned more than an hour ago and had been left waiting to serve at her master’s pleasure. This was a ploy that Seagull often used. He deliberately kept people waiting to keep them off-balance. He also believed that staring at a person without blinking, and long lulls in conversation, were effective intimidatory tactics.

Rachael understood that this was just part of his game, and took the time to review what she knew of her boss. She was aware that he was a career agency man and had followed in his father’s footsteps. His father, Richard Seagull, had been one of the first recruits into the Office of Strategic Services, the predecessor of the Central Intelligence Agency.

Rachael also knew that he was an only child and that his mother had died when he was very young. He was unmarried and seemed to have no close friends. David Seagull was also exceptionally ugly, with a face that only a mother could love. Nothing seemed to fit correctly. His eyes were protruding, almost as though he had no eyelids. His lips were thin and colourless, and his nose looked like something a three-year-old had moulded out of playdough.

Rachael had seen photos of him when he was much younger, and it was clear that even back then he had had a bad case of male pattern baldness. So he did what most men who were sensitive about their hair loss did. He shaved his head every day and had almost convinced himself that he would have done this even if he had not been losing his hair. He felt that his deliberately shaven head added to his allure.

Rachael gave a snort of exasperation. She did not like David Seagull, but her feeling went beyond mere dislike. There was something about the man that she did not trust. He always seemed to be running a game where only he knew the rules. In years to come, Rachael would often wonder what would have happened had she listened to her instincts.

Miss Walker, you may go in now. The special assistant director is ready to see you, said Seagull’s personal assistant, as she buzzed to open the door to his office.

Before entering, Rachael had to undergo a bizarre ritual that every visitor had to endure. First, she had removed her shoes and replaced them with Japanese slippers. Next, she had donned a pair of latex gloves. Nobody knew why they had to follow these weird steps, but it was the only way to get into the inner sanctum.

Rachael walked to the door and softly knocked three times. This was another peculiarity demanded by the office, and you could only enter once you had been granted permission by Seagull himself.

Receiving the assent to enter, Rachael opened the door and stepped in. After closing the door, she had to remain stationary until Seagull raised his eyes from the documents laid out on his desk and motioned for her to come closer. Another tactic designed to intimidate.

After keeping Rachael waiting several awkward minutes, Seagull indicated that she could enter his office. The office was massive and bathed in soft light from the only lamp that was on. The large windows let in natural light, but the overcast weather gave a sense of dimness to the room.

Rachael strode confidently towards the desk where Seagull was seated. I will not let your childish antics get to me, she thought. Arriving at the chairs in front of the large walnut desk, she waited for permission to sit.

Seagull waved her to sit down, and without waiting for her to get comfortable, he started speaking. So, have you finished the presentation for the president next week?

Yes, Special Assistant Director. I have just finished proofreading the final draft of the report that will accompany the presentation. And if you will allow me to comment, I am not happy with the overall direction of the presentation. I feel that it focuses too much on the welfare system and not enough on other elements that are also major parts of our fiscal deficits.

With that, she handed over the draft. He stared at her without speaking, then slowly lowered the document onto his desk and started reading.

As he flipped the pages, Rachael took the opportunity to glance around the room. First, the desk. There was nothing on it except the document that Seagull was currently working on. No phone, no photos, no ornaments. Nothing except the blank expanse that separated Rachael from him. There were no paintings on the wall and no books on the bookshelves. It was almost as though Seagull did not want any personal touches to be displayed in his office. A clear message that he was only here to work, and he would not be distracted by sentimentality or pleasure.

After what seemed an interminable wait, he cleared his throat, and Rachael jerked around guiltily. She felt that somehow she had failed a test by not giving her entire focus to the person on the other side of the table.

Miss Walker, I do not really care about your personal feelings on what or what is not essential. It is what I think that is important, and you will give the presentation to the president precisely as directed. Do I make myself crystal clear? He spoke softly, his stare boring into her.

Without letting her speak, he continued. And if you do not do precisely as directed, then I will find somebody who will. I am sure that there are many people in your department who would jump at the chance to take your place.

Rachael stared back at her boss. She would not give him the satisfaction of looking away. She hated that she was being pushed into a corner but thought to herself, What harm can it do? It is a presentation to the president that he will forget after a few minutes. But she could not shake that nagging feeling that she was being made part of something bigger that she did not understand.

Finally, unable to think of another way to handle the implacable man before her, she spoke. Mr Special Assistant Director, I will present to the president precisely as you have instructed.

David Seagull gave a taut smile to demonstrate his superiority over his subordinate, and with a nod of his head, indicated that Rachael was dismissed.

Seagull stared coldly at Rachael Walker’s back as she left his office. He was satisfied that Rachael would follow his instructions to the letter, and that pleased him. His plan was coming together, a plan that had been years in the making.

He just needed to keep pressure on the new president, a man he considered weak and easily manipulated.

Chapter Two

Executive Residence,

the White House

It was mid-morning, and President Christian Palatine admired his reflection in the full-length mirror that he had had specially installed in his private bedroom. He spent a lot of time looking at himself and loved watching the television when the coverage was about him. He could not get enough of his own image.

He tucked in his stomach and tried to ignore his muffin-top. Could lose some pounds he thought to himself, but dammit I am a good-looking man. Reality, unfortunately, did not reflect the rose-tinted view that the president had of himself. His skin was a peculiarly pasty colour, and his skin-tone was entirely out of sync with his mousey blonde hair. Not even the kindest of beer goggles would flatter him as being remotely close to handsome.

He turned to catch of a view of himself from the rear. Again, reality said that this was not a pretty picture. Deciding that fifteen minutes self-admiration was enough, he walked into his private study. He loved the power and prestige of being president, but he hated the work involved. And it was for this reason that he avoided the Oval Office as much as possible. Everybody looked to him to make decisions, as though he was the only person in the administration who had a brain. He often pondered that he was, in fact, the only person in the country with a fully functioning intellect.

He sat heavily in his La-Z-Boy recliner and turned on the television. Time to see what the world was saying about him. As he settled in for several hours of uninterrupted viewing, he reflected on the journey that had brought him to the White House.

He had decided to run for president on a whim. His thought process had been that there is no such thing as bad advertising and settled on using the nomination process to loudly tout his own achievements and more importantly, to bring more business to the oil services empire that he had inherited from his father.

He had never expected to win and had offered absolutely no definitive policies throughout the long election campaign. His only form of campaigning was to denigrate and insult his various opponents. And, surprisingly, he had struck a chord with American voters. They loved his antics. Analysis of the votes after the election showed a common theme. Tens of millions of people had voted for him because they did not think anybody else would. And tens of millions had got it wrong.

After a while, the commentary on the TV bored him, and he resigned himself to having to do some actual work. He buzzed for his personal valet to bring him today's paperwork. There never seemed to be an end to it, and he was sure that whole forests of trees were being cut down to feed the never-ending stream of documents that crossed his desk every day.

Once the valet had left the room, the president uttered a loud sigh. God, he hated this part of his role. At the top of the pile was a slim envelope from the offices of the CIA. President Palatine tore it open and extracted the dozens of pages. Pinned to the front page was a handwritten note from David Seagull. ‘Dear Mr President, in advance of our meeting next week, here are more examples of the shameful crimes that are being committed every day. Regards, D.S.’

Christian Palatine knew what to expect. He had been receiving a similar package every day, for weeks, from David Seagull, and he knew that his blood pressure was about to sky-rocket. Each page was a photocopy from a newspaper or online article. He skimmed through them, mostly focusing on the headlines but occasionally reading the entire article.

---

CNBC 29 March 2018

---

(https://www.cnbc.com/2018/03/29/how-a-country-lawyer-pulled-off-the-biggest-social-security-fraud-ever-and-why-it-could-happen-again.html)

---

How a country lawyer pulled off the biggest Social Security fraud ever, and why it could happen again

---

The bigger the pool of taxpayer money, the bigger the magnet it is for fraudsters. And there is not much that is bigger than the $2.8 trillion Social Security trust fund. But even by those standards, the $550 million fraud pulled off by Kentucky attorney Eric C. Conn — the largest Social Security fraud in history — is mind-boggling…

---

NY Times 21 August 2013

---

(https://www.nytimes.com/2013/08/22/us/70-are-indicted-in-puerto-rico-in-social-security-fraud.html)

---

70 Are Indicted in Puerto Rico in Social Security Fraud

---

More than 70 people have been indicted in Puerto Rico as part of a two-year investigation into widespread fraud in Social Security disability payments, federal prosecutors announced Wednesday.

Among those charged were three doctors and a former Social Security Administration employee who prosecutors said had helped people receive disability benefits they did not qualify for. Seventy-one people who made fraudulent medical claims were also charged, the authorities said, and if convicted would be required to forfeit more than $2 million . . .

---

Office of the Inspector General 2 August 2012

---

(https://oig.ssa.gov/audits-and-investigations/investigations/san-diego-psychologist-admits-falsifying-disability-reports)

---

San Diego Psychologist Admits Falsifying Social Security Disability Reports in $1.5 Million Fraud Scheme

---

United States Attorney Laura E. Duffy announced that Roberto J. Velasquez, a San Diego area clinical psychologist, pled guilty today in federal court to two counts of immigration fraud and social security fraud in connection with a scheme to falsify medical certifications to the federal government…

---

Mail Online 1 February 2016

---

(http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-2366931/Floridas-First-Lady-tax-refund-fraud-gets-21-years-prison-stealing-20-million.html)

---

Woman who boasted she was the 'Queen of IRS tax fraud' on Facebook gets 21 years in prison after stealing $20 million

---

A mother of three, who taunted authorities to catch her as she stole about $20 million from the IRS, has been jailed for 21 years.

Rashia Wilson, who pleaded guilty to wire fraud and aggravated identity theft earlier this year, admitted to stealing more than $3 million but the figure is believed to be much higher…

---

Every article told the same story. Tens of millions, even hundreds of millions of dollars, stolen every year by fraudsters, many of them actual Social Security claimants. And it seemed that the administration was powerless to prevent this large scale and widespread fraud.

During the election campaign Palatine had used this issue to lambast the incumbent and his party as being incapable of stopping the rot. This was a topic that resonated with the American people and Palatine played it for all it was worth. But now his stridency was coming back to haunt him. The talking heads on TV were starting to question why he had done nothing to fix the problem. The honeymoon period was coming to an end, and Christian Palatine was desperate for the good times to continue.

He threw the documents on the floor in disgust. What has happened to this country? It used to be that a man did a hard day’s work and never looked for a handout. But those days were long gone, and now everybody was looking to extract as much as they could from the system. He needed to do something to prove to the voters that he was capable of more than rabble-rousing. That he was a man of action. And ideas.

The next day yet another package from David Seagull landed on President Palatine’s desk, along with a handwritten note. ‘Dear Mr President, the man who fixes this blight on our country, will be an American hero. Regards, D.S.’

The President did not even bother to read any of the articles, as he knew the story they told. He was more interested in thinking about the possibility of becoming an American hero.

Chapter Three

Briefing Room, the White House

David Seagull had been working on his revenge for many years, and he was just about to take the first step in a plan that would make him a billion dollars. But at the cost of fifty million American lives. A price he did not care about.

He walked to the podium at the front of the room, and addressed himself to Christian Palatine, Mr President, the sins of America’s past governments have brought us to the point of no return, and we face many difficult challenges in the months, years, and decades to come. We are almost at the point of being financially bankrupt. If we are not already there. And the burden to fix this falls squarely on your shoulders. You can choose to make the hard decisions to rectify this mess, or you can choose to do what your predecessors have done. Which is to kick the can down the road for some other sucker to fix.

With his opening statement, Special Assistant Director for the CIA David Seagull set the tone for a meeting that promised to challenge the resolve of the newly elected president of the USA, Christian Palatine.

Stopping to take a sip of water, Seagull looked around the room at the occupants and wondered if they realised just how close to ruin their country was. And whether they had the courage to make the decisions that had to be made. If they followed the plan that he was about to present, then perhaps there was some chance but, no matter the outcome, he was going to end up being a very, very rich man. Heads I win, tails you lose, he thought to himself.

Seagull continued, We are on an unsustainable path of fiscal irresponsibility that is leading to increasingly large deficits, and we are spending far more than we are collecting in tax revenues. The federal government debt has ballooned out of control, and we have a Federal Reserve that is hell-bent on raising interest rates at the worst possible time. And if this was not enough, we face a threat from the Chinese government, who are taking steps in pursuit of assuming the mantle of the world’s most powerful nation.

He paused again and stared intently at the newest president of the United States of America. You fool, he thought, only a moron would want this job, and yet your ego demands that you be seen as the knight in shining armour come to save the world. He kept his contempt to himself and showed only the polished face of a career bureaucrat.

Our Financial War Games Section headed by Ms Walker, he nodded his head towards the CIA’s best financial analyst, has been tasked with conducting a series of scenarios to determine the options available to your government. And I have to say that the results are not pretty. She will now give you a summary of her section’s findings. Rachael, over to you.

Rachael Walker stepped up to the podium Thank you, Assistant Director and good morning, Mr President. She was a young analyst, recruited directly from Harvard Business School, and had joined the CIA with idealistic views that she could help make the world a better place. At twenty-eight years old and with five years of working through the ranks of the CIA, her sharp intelligence had led to her promotion as the youngest head of the Financial War Games Section. Those five years had come at a cost: she no longer believed that the politicians elected to serve the people had the people’s best interests at heart. Inwardly she was grappling with her future, but she put that behind her as she turned to address the president.

Mr President, you campaigned on a promise to fix this country, and if this country were a corporation, it would already have been placed into chapter 11 bankruptcy.

The