Aruba Mad Günther

by T L Yeager

  The subject line, ‘Don’t forget your self eval,’ stood out amongst the rest. Real world self-evals, a time to document how great you are. It would have to wait until she returned. She scanned the subject lines piling up.

  ‘Architect request for DLP.’

  ‘Avanti Quantum Contract Review: Endpoint protection platform.’

  ‘Data Loss Prevention MVP ready for stakeholder review.’

  ‘Security Analytics Enhancement Request.’

  ‘Ransomware monthly update.’

  ‘New phishing scheme foils tech giant’s $14 million cyber defense.’

  The job was good for the most part. It paid almost triple what she had made in the Corps and made her bachelor’s degree in computer science suddenly worth the money her parents invested.

  Summit Cyber Security provided network protection solutions for some of the biggest companies in the country. They were a boutique firm that added value to off-the-shelf products. They filled the twenty percent gap that the larger security providers couldn’t address.

  She came across an email with the subject, ‘Char-monster Passport,’ from Pich Tang. No one called her Char-monster except Maddie. It was her pet name for her easy child. But then again, PTang was like a third daughter.

  ‘I see you make big mistake,’ wrote PTang. ‘One you never live down. Have fun on vacation,’ she’d written.

  Maddie snickered. Chuckles was right; karma was coming around to bite her in the ass.

  Maddie had officially been hired by Summit through a government placement program that paired retiring service members with private sector jobs. That was true, but PTang was the real reason she got the job.

  She’d met Pich during her stint with the United States Cyber Command. She was a civilian contractor and one of the most unique people Maddie had ever met.

  A Cambodian immigrant, her parents were an odd couple. The father, a devout defender of the southeast Asian country, fell in love with an American missionary. The product of that courtship was one PTang—small in stature, immense in intelligence.

  Her father took up arms in the Cambodian civil war around the time PTang was born. He was a leader with one of several freedom-fighting factions. After his execution, PTang’s mother moved them in with his parents. She spent the first eight years of her life living at the edge of a rural Cambodian village in a two-room house with concreate walls and a thatch roof.

  When she was eight, PTang’s mother received a letter explaining that her father had been diagnosed with Lou Gehrig’s disease. They returned to the states to care for a man PTang had never met and who her mother struggled to remember.

  Her Cambodian accent never faded and the years it took to polish her English turned her into an outcast in school. She spent hours alone in her room with a pair of computers her dead grandfather left behind. At the age of thirteen, her mother remarried and questions about her real father emerged for the first time. Instead of asking, PTang tracked down all the answers she needed using her computer.

  Maddie first worked with her on a Cyber Protection Team, defending priority DoD networks from attack. She was ninety pounds covered in mud, soft spoken and one of the most brilliant technical minds Maddie had ever met.

  PTang never asked Maddie why she gave up being a sniper to join cyber command. By then, Madeline Günther was a name the news media had gotten ahold of. She was the first woman to complete the Marine Corps Scout Sniper School. She was the first woman deployed in combat in a sniper role. She had received decorations on par with the most successful snipers in US history. Madeline Günther was a legend.

  Only one piece of information hadn’t made it into the public eye following her retirement. Why she had left? Maddie believed PTang could read it in her eyes.

  Her spotter, Will, was one of the best friends Maddie had ever known. She had a lot of brothers in the Corps—men that respected her for who she was. Military experience creates bonds stronger than DNA. Enduring training cycles brings people together, surviving combat glues them for life.

  Will and Maddie had worked as a team, on and off for years. The day he died, Maddie laid down her sniper rifle for the last time.

  Her commanding officer was supportive. “You’ve been of great service to your country. No better person out there to leave the mark you’ve left. You should be proud,” he said. “I’ll put in the request for Cyber Command posthaste, with the highest recommendation.”

  PTang was her online handle. Maddie had been paired with her to learn the ropes.

  “She’s a little different,” explained her new commanding officer. “Certainly a far stretch from what you’ve been dealing with down range. But she’s special. Good at explaining things. Pick her brain. She’ll help you understand what we do here. No sugar coating or BS.”

  In a way, PTang had padded the fall. Her uniqueness, ingenuity and super computer of a brain helped Maddie transition from one pole to the other. They’d become close enough friends that for a time, she was a regular for Sunday dinner at the Günther house. The fact that her contract wasn’t renewed added muscle to Maddie’s decision to leave Cyber Command and retire from the Corps.

  In the months between PTang’s departure and Maddie’s retirement, she had waivered. The lure of adrenaline called from the back of her mind. Then a teammate from the Corps reached out to her. He had gone to work for a private security firm. He was on a seventeen-month contract. The firm treated him like special operations royalty. They outfitted him with suits and armed him with the most advanced weapons. He worked on a six-man team providing VIP security in Iraq. He was rotated home every other month for a couple of weeks and said it was a good gig. They were looking to add a sniper, and the company was very interested in hiring Madeline Günther.

  Maddie had considered it, but she couldn’t bring herself to broach the subject with Ross. He was right about her needing to be home with Izzy. Truth be told, she wasn’t convinced she could pick up another gun. A week later she realized her period was late and a pregnancy test announced the imminent arrival of the Char-monster.

  Maddie looked up from the thoughts. She stared back at the green ‘E’ then lifted her phone and snapped a picture of it in case she forgot. A look in the mirror took the thought of the security job away. Charlotte’s eyes were locked on her. When she connected with her gaze, Charlotte smiled and rubbed the morning from her eyes.

  16

  Surfside Resort, Aruba: Security Suite

  Within five minutes of entering the suite, Anas was in the zone. He bounced in his chair, tapping a beat into the table beneath his computers. The music both calmed his nerves and helped distract his mind. It cut down on errors.

  Fahd was in the front room monitoring the security cameras. Anas was set up in the tech suite to the rear. He turned his team radio down to avoid the distraction as he focused on establishing the critical networks that would be the heart and soul of the operation. Fahd would alert him to any relevant information coming from Fazul and the others.

  All the wi-fi hotspots and ethernet connections across the resort were routed through the information technology suite where Anas was sitting. He would configure three separate computers from which he’d orchestrate technological control over the mission. One computer was connected to the resort’s internal network. All attempts to connect to the internet would lead to this computer, and every request would be met with the same result. Users would be diverted to a static webpage. He modeled the program after software used in hotels and other public locations. It directed web browsers to a specific URL after a connection was established. Once a device was connected and a browser was opened, the user would be taken directly to the website Anas was running on his machine. The hotel’s spiderweb of a network began and ended with Anas.

  He required only ten minutes to establish this rudimentary network configuration. With the webpage up and running, Anas launch a connection tracking application that would log hits to the site. He programmed it to alert him when the number
exceeded one hundred, two hundred and fifty, five hundred and one thousand. They were arbitrary numbers, but would provide a good indication of when the hotel guests were waking and logging into their digital lives. What they would find was a simple webpage that provided concise information on how and why they were now hostages.

  Anas’s second computer was connected to the internet and would be used to simulcast information to the world through a series of virtual private networks. These secure VPN’s connected Anas to a complex of servers around the globe. These machines would disseminate information programmatically and serve as internet hosts to the insanely voyeuristic outside world.

  He confirmed the internet connection by typing Google into the address bar and verifying that the search engine displayed. Anas double-clicked on an executable titled ‘Automated VPN authentication.’ He then entered a password into the prompt. The program that launched VPN clients loaded on his machine. It logged him in using an encrypted database of passwords and then ran validation scripts. It routed test messages to the servers, which in turn sent emails and posted test comments to public sites. The program verified the emails and accessed the sites to confirm the posts.

  While the program was running, Anas pulled cables and a switch from his backpack. He stood and leaned over the computer, clicking a short cable into the back of the machine. The other end was connected to the switch which included eight additional ports. From the ports, Anas strung a series of cables to other computers in the room. The first was another black laptop that he extracted from his pack. This computer would control the aerial drone network that would be deployed as their eyes in the sky. Access to this computer would provide drone footage that could be captured or shared live with the world.

  Next, he connected the hotel security computer to the switch. He’d add himself as a tenant on the network, which would provide access to the cameras around the resort. The last cable he strung was red. He connected one end to the switch and laid the other end next to the computer hosting the internal static webpage. This cable would allow him to download data to the website so the hostages hived above him in the resort buildings could see what was going on outside. He was a professional hacker and knew better than to keep the machines physically connected. He’d only connect it when he needed to move information.

  Then, Anas pulled three small black bags from his pack. He unclipped three tripods secured to the outside and went through the door into the security room. Fahd looked up and nodded as Anas passed. Using his elbow to push down on the handle, Anas swung the door to the security suite open.

  Khalid and four other team members were stacking sandbags in front of a desk just outside the lobby. They had positioned it a few of feet from the plate glass and where surrounding it with burlap sacks of sand.

  Anas nodded to Khalid and held out the equipment.

  Khalid dropped the sandbag he was holding on top of the stack and came inside to Anas. He gathered the equipment into his arms.

  “You remember where to set them up?” Anas asked.

  Khalid nodded. “One overlooking the patio out by the pool. One on the roof of Building Three, looking down on the pool. And the last one goes on top of Building Four.”

  “Don’t forget, you’ll need an extension cord and some sandbags for the top of Building Four,” said Anas. “Call me on the radio when you get up there, and I’ll help you get the right angle. I want to make sure we get the machine gun nest and the main road to Oranjestad in the picture. It’s going to be one of our cover shots.”

  17

  Surfside Resort, Aruba: Building One Garage

  Fazul headed for the beach to check on the offload. Having moved into phase two of the operation, his teams were spreading out across the resort. Sandbags were being filled on the beach and carted to defensive positions around the perimeter. They were to start with the ground-level positions and then turn their attention to the rooftops. Fahd had secured the keys to the resort’s utility vehicle, which simplified the task.

  Fazul stood under the corner of Building One and watched the team of six as they shuttled material from the Contagious to the parking area beneath the building. Marwan and Ziad struggled across the beach. The men leaned away from each other as they sifted their way through the soft sand. Between them was a heavy unmarked wooden crate that Anas knew contained two RPK-74 light machine guns. He had been excited to see that they’d received the ‘M’ variant. ‘M’ for Modefitsyrovannyj, which meant “improved” in Russian. They were the latest production model with black synthetic stocks. Optics had been purchased to mount on the side rails to help the men sight targets from the rooftops thirteen stories up.

  “Good work, men,” Fazul said when they hit the blacktop of the garage. They shuffled by on their way to a mechanical cage, where the most critical supplies were being loaded. If an altercation broke out that required the full attention of the team, the cage could be locked to secure the most valuable items.

  Fazul walked across the lot toward Hani al-Hazmi, who was diligently manning the first security position under Building One. He swept his AKM in a steady deliberate motion, panning the assault rifle from the sandy beach on the left, through the picnic table and grill area to an opening in the concrete wall lining the perimeter. The defensive positions were better than Fazul had imagined. A waist-high wall ran around the outside to mask the lower half of the vehicles parked underneath. The wide concrete foundation made for effective cover and was improved with sandbags stacked nearly chest-high.

  Hani’s position was open; the parking spaces stopped three-quarters of the way up to make room for the mechanical cage behind him.

  “Hani,” Fazul called as he approached. Hani spun toward him, the rifle resting high on the sandbags. “All is well?”

  “Yes, Fazul. Very quiet, but we are ready.”

  “Good to hear,” Fazul said as he looked to the right. There was a blue car twenty yards away and then several more hoods before the next position. A soldier by the name of Nawaf manned the second post just beyond the path leading to the neighboring property. The two men were close enough to deliver interlocking fire along this stretch of the perimeter.

  Fazul stepped up to Hani’s left. He ran his hand across the top of the AKM and looked up at the neighboring building. The first three floors were visible. “Once we reach phase four, you’ll be responsible for keeping the balconies clear there.” He pointed to the rows of ordered cubbies some sixty yards away and rising out of sight.

  “Yes, sir. It will be no problem,” said Hani.

  He turned to go but stopped in thought. “Remember, take any visitors silently until we reach phase four. We need the resort to remain sleeping for just a while longer.”

  “Absolutely, sir.”

  Fazul nodded and turned, walking toward the pools at the heart of the complex. His men were ready. A calm focus emanated from them as they worked. His confidence was bolstered by the ease with which the plan was coming together.

  He turned his wrist and looked down. They had been on the ground for an hour. With 15 minutes left in phase two, it was time to assess their progress. He pulled the small playbook from his pocket and turned to the first page. He pressed the button on his earpiece and said, “Let me have your attention. We’re 15 minutes from the scheduled start of phase three. I want a full status check. Let’s begin with perimeter security.”

  “Building One perimeter ground. We are two men in position. Our fortifications are complete.” The report in his headset was a millisecond behind Hani’s actual voice, which played faintly in Fazul’s open left ear.

  “We’re a go on Building Two perimeter ground,” called another voice.

  “Building Three perimeter ground is a go as well.”

  “Building Four here. The last sandbags are being stacked now. Just a few minutes more and then we’re done.”

  Fazul placed check marks in the margin next to the assignments as they called in. “Very good, perimeter ground. Keep it silent until
phase four.” Fazul let his pencil drift down the page. “Fortification team. What’s your status?”

  A broken voice cracked in the headset, just a quick on and off separated by a panting breath. “We are stacking the last bags here at perimeter ground—” The voice paused, drawing deeply in an attempt to catch his breath. “Finishing Building Four now,” he said pausing a second time. “We’ll need two more runs to the beach for sandbags going up the elevators.”

  Fazul built extra time into the schedule but he loathed using it this early. “We must pick up the pace without cutting corners.”

  Phase three was the most important of the mission. The earlier it commenced, the better. Delivering the letters would be key to preventing a stampede. Fazul was not opposed to violence but he knew that a mass killing early in the mission would demoralize his men.

  “We need to keep on schedule. Stay on point. We are doing well, but we must push harder.” Fazul studied his playbook again. “Hostage team. Provide status and counts.”

  The three holding areas reported in. Twenty-one hostages had been taken. Most had come in from the sides of the property and the others were taken from their cars after being directed beneath building three by Jamal. There had been no attempts to resist.

  Command post defenses were complete along with Anas’s IT tasks for phase two. All eight elevators had been anchored to the ground floor and the cases of additional door blockade bars were pre-positioned and ready for phase three.

  On the beach, the two-man defense team was positioned at either end of the beach with instructions to capture or stop anyone crossing in front of the resort. The soldier on the north end had approached an early morning jogger entering his area of responsibility. Attempting to flee, the soldier was forced to cut the man down with his suppressed submachine gun.