Geek Mafia (30 page)

Most important of all, the site had a section for other concerned citizens to make donations. For every dollar donated to the reward fund, the group's founders would donate two of their own. The site started with a $10,000 initial bounty, and had already risen to $37,000, over $10,000 of which were real life generous gifts from actual concerned citizens that had been matched by phantom Crew dollars. So far so good.

"All right, I think we've done enough for one day," said Chloe as she disconnected her phone. "We need to save something for the rest of the week."

"I'm going to stay at it a little while longer," said Paul, "At least to monitor the late night shows. You sure you won't join me?" He was so buzzed with excitement from the con, sleep was the last thing on his mind.

She yawned and stretched. "Nah, I'm fucking beat. I have newfound respect for telemarketers though, I'll tell you that. Sitting with a phone to your ear all day sucks ass."

"Next time we do this we should get headsets," said Paul.

"Next time we should hire a call center in India."

"Great, now we're outsourcing our nation's fraud work, too? You know there are American con men here at home who need to put food on the table."

"Don't go believing your own rhetoric there tough guy, it's the surest way to become disillusioned in this biz."

"I'll remember that. I wouldn't want to end up a bitter and crusty cynic, now would I?"

CHAPTER 25

138

"Who're you calling crusty?"

"I'm sorry. Bitter and beautiful cynic."

"That's better," said Chloe, giving him a quick peck on the cheek. "G'night. And don't tell anyone but, you're doing a great job. Keep your chin up."

Paul paused long enough to really assess their progress today, but it seemed like everything really was coming together. He thought briefly about going back to the bedroom with Chloe now, but she was obviously tired and he was still wired on adrenaline and coffee. He'd want something more than sleep from her right now.

They'd shared nothing more intimate than a casual kiss or hug since the night on the beach. Things always seemed to work out that they were going to bed at different times or one or the other of them was passing out on the couch. Always something, and he was getting tired of it. But the high he was getting from seeing his plan come to life more than compensated for the lack of sex. Well, almost compensated. Besides, he couldn't afford the distraction right now. Everyone was both depending on him and watching him closely. Watching for any indication that he'd tripped up or let the pressure get to him. Focus on the game, he told himself. The rest will come when it comes. No pun intended.

He turned his radio back up and dialed the phone again. Maybe he'd get through this time.

Over the next three days The Concerned Citizens for a Moral America Web site got more and more hits as news of their crusade to unmask the Mad Cow Terrorists (as the site referred to them) spread. A few times a day Paul would compose updates with false leads and revelations about who the mysterious vandals might actually be. They encouraged the wildest speculation, inventing ties to the Green Party, the French Arts Council, and of course right-wing punching bag, Hillary Clinton.

On the flip side, the Global Freedom Army kept up its own pace and was garnering its own support from the radical left. They issued daily communiqués, promising future action and decrying corporate hegemony and

"Big Coffee." Both sites hosted furious, flame-filled debates between the two sides. At first these were purely staged events carried out by the Crew, but soon the feud took on a life of its own and the left vs. right throw-down became entirely self-sustaining.

The bounty rose to $75,000, representing just over $30,000 in real money brought in through the Web site.

Profits were good, and the groundwork was laid for stage three. The Crew had assembled in the living room again, and this time there was a lot of interest in what Paul had to say. The buzz in the house had been good ever since the park prank, and especially since the money started coming in. As always, Chloe opened the meeting.

"Ok, kids, we're doing great here, as I'm sure you all know. We're still ahead of schedule and it looks like we're going to stay that way. We're moving up the big party to next week if we can swing it." This generated a hum of excitement in the room. "I'll turn things over to the Paulster and he'll give you your assignments."

"I know this is the part that worries some of you the most," said Paul. "We need to interact face to face with a large number of people here, including some government official types, so Chloe's ready to set us up with disguises and what not. But still, I don't want to ask anyone to do anything they're not confident in. I'm going to take the lead with the party planners and caterers and so forth. Raff's going to handle getting the permits.

Chloe's going to head out and glad hand the local politicians and radio people. So we've got all the real big risk jobs covered."

"What's left then?" asked Kurt, always one to cut to the chase.

CHAPTER 25

139

Paul glanced nervously at Chloe. "We talked about it and, well, we decided not to go with hired help for the catering. So..."

"You want waiters!" said Popper. "You know, most of us got into this job so we wouldn't have to wait tables."

Everyone laughed at that.

"I know, I know," said Paul. "It's suck work to be sure. All I can say is, think how big the tip is going to be at the end of the night."

"We're hoping to take down a big score that night," Chloe said. "And things will go a lot better if we don't have a bunch of stoned college kids in penguin suits serving canapés and memorizing our faces. Guests don't pay much attention to caterers, but caterers pay a lot of attention to the people paying the bills. Plus, we need to be able to make sure we cover our withdrawal once the deed is done."

"So," said Paul. "Any volunteers?"

Everyone raised their hands, a show of support that Paul took to mean that they all believed the con was going as well as he did. "Cool," was all he said as he swelled with pride.

Chloe stepped in. "Great, you're all hired. Now, Popper honey, since you've got the waitressing experience, can you run these cats through a quick training session or two to get them up to speed. And everyone see Bee to get fitted for radio ear pieces, ok?"

"Thanks guys," said Paul. "Let's throw one hell of a party, ok?"

CHAPTER 26

140

CHAPTER 26

At first Paul had wanted to get a permit to use the very same park where they'd pulled their prank nine days earlier. But permits turned out to be harder to get than he'd thought, and so they'd had to use an alternate venue - The Woodbine Restaurant, which happened to be the very place Raff had been eating when he videotaped the prank for TV. As Paul watched the rabid-right radio and techno-conservatives of Silicon Valley mill about the two open bars and munch on sushi and crab cakes snatched from trays carried by roving crew members, he realized this was a much, much better choice. For one thing they didn't have to worry about a tent or any expensive equipment when it came time to make their getaway. For another, it was raining outside.

The Concerned Citizens for a Moral America's inaugural fundraiser showed every sign of being a successful event. There were already almost a hundred and twenty people here, with more coming through the doors all the time. They'd rented out the entire restaurant for the night and paid for the food and the bar. The Woodbine was your typical oversized, upscale California fusion cuisine eatery. In the days of the tech boom it had been full of venture capitalists and nouveau riche
engineers every night. Now they were more than happy to rent
themselves out on what would've been an otherwise slow Tuesday night. Still, they'd charged $20,000, and it'd
taken a sizable chunk out of the "reward" money they'd raised online.

Chloe and Paul stood in the kitchen, watching through a crack in the door as the marks listened attentively to
none other than local talk show host Sam Evers as he harangued them with horror stories about the Los
Gatos park prank. The crowd was eating up every word of it, which was no surprise since he'd been
instrumental in getting many of them here tonight. The crowd was rich and credulous, just as they'd planned.

Raff stood a few feet behind them, his phone pressed to one ear, a finger jammed in the other to block out the
noisy kitchen. Like Chloe, he was dressed in the black pants and vest of a caterer. Paul, wearing a brand new
suit, was the face of the operation, and so far he was the only one with any public connection to organizing
the fundraiser.

With his hair dyed blonde, a fake moustache glued to his upper lip, and glasses, he hoped his face wouldn't be
easily recognizable. Under his suit he wore padding that added another four waist sizes and made him look
forty pounds heavier than he actually was. Bee had sewn the costume herself, and he was surprised at how
comfortable it was to wear. He was having a little more trouble with the shoes, which lifted his height but
made his walk a little wobbly if he didn't concentrate.

Raff got off the phone and came over to them. "That was the Congressman's chief of staff. He's on his way.

Should be here in twenty minutes. Maybe thirty with the rain." Getting the Congressman to appear had been
their greatest coup. A notoriously rightwing representative from the central valley, Representative Andy
Felson was a darling of the talk radio circuit and a famously successful fundraiser. His agreeing to speak lent
an air of credibility they really needed to pull this scam off, although it had cost them a $10,000 campaign
donation.

Evers was finishing up on stage, ranting about liberal terrorists and the threat they posed to everything
decent and good in America. He finished with his famous tag line - "Not, here! Not in my America!" and the
crowd went wild for him.

"Ok, time to give my spiel," said Paul, straightening his tie for the umpteenth time.

"Just keep it short and sweet and you'll do fine," said Chloe.

"Yeah, just remind them the drinks are free and they'll love you forever," Raff added.

CHAPTER 26

141

"Right. Ok. I'm on."

Paul strode confidently out of the kitchen and towards the small stage they'd set up at the far end of the dining
room where Evers was shaking hands with his fans. As he wove his way through the crowd, he passed by the
silent auction tables that lined one wall. The tables had bright, glossy pictures of cruise ships, spas, and the
dining rooms of some of the best restaurants in San Francisco and Napa Valley. There were also photos of
jewelry, watches, and even a display promising personalized helicopter tours of Muir Woods. Attached to
each display was a small digital screen and a credit card reader that showed the current high bid on each of
the items.

As Paul scanned the current bids, he saw that every package had at least one bid on it. And it was little
wonder. Compared to the extravagant trips and gifts on display, the minimum bids were all quite reasonable.

$500 for a dinner for 6 at the French Laundry? A steal at thrice the price! A weekend with Robert Mondavi
touring his wineries? If you could put a price on such an experience, it would surely be much more than the
$3000 minimum bid. Of course the only things real about any of these packages were the signs describing
them - and the credit card machines the marks were using to make their bids.

Paul had also insisted that they set up a number of tables where people could donate directly to specially
chosen charities. These were all relatively obscure, small international aid groups and labor rights advocates
that none of the guests had ever heard of. Paul correctly assumed that the party-goers would blindly give to
the charities since they had the seal of approval from the right-wing group that was hosting the event. They'd
never know that their cash was going to buy condoms and birth control in Africa or to support trade unions in
South America. Paul himself planned to donate his share of the con to these groups - after all, he didn't need
the money. This charity angle was the one area where he'd met the most resistance from some crewmembers,
but Chloe and Raff had both backed him on it and so he'd gotten his way. She'd seemed impressed with his
generosity.

Behind the tables stood Kurt and Popper, two of the more respectable looking Crew members. They were
carefully and patiently explaining to the attendees how to use the credit card donation system. Chloe and Raff
had both worried that people wouldn't accept this new innovation in silent auctioneering. Would people
blithely swipe their cards into a strange machine? Paul was gratified to see that the answer was apparently
yes. After all, this was Silicon Valley. Everyone here loves a new gadget.

Paul slowed down to listen to Popper as she gave her spiel to a would-be bidder.

"Good evening, ma'am," Popper said to a middle aged woman wearing incredibly large pearls and enough
perfume for any five women in the room.

"Now I've never seen anything like this before," said the woman, as she looked the table over with a curious
eye. "How does it work?"

"It's very simple, ma'am," Popper replied with a smile. "These are credit card machines just like you see in
any department or grocery store. As you can see, each one is labeled with the name of a different auction
item. You just swipe your credit or debit card and then type in the amount of your bid. You then get a printed
receipt showing your bid. Only the highest bid gets charged of course. All proceeds go directly to finding the
liberal terrorists responsible for drawing America down into a cesspool of communism." Paul thought this
last bit was kind of over the top, but the bidder seemed to like it.