Shift Delete

by Gary L. Rashba

  “Welcome Mr. Parovsky. I hope you haven’t been waiting long”, the plump faced man with red skin, pickled from so much vodka, Parovsky thought—in his mid-fifties introduced himself with a very firm handshake as Stanislav Grigoryev.

  “And I am Andrei,” sad the other man, extending his hand. He was heavy-set with a bulbous nose, and looked 10-15 years younger than Grigoryev.

  The two Russians took seats opposite Parovsky.

  Grigoryev started off by thanking Parovsky for coming to Russia to meet them, and praised the spirit of cooperation between the United States and Russia. He mentioned the example of the U.S. reliance on Russia for rocket engines for all its space launches. “Imagine that, Mr. Parovsky. The United States’ Space Program relies on Soyuz rockets to carry your astronauts into space!” He blinked his eyes hard, accentuating the lines extending from the corner of his eyes, to stress his point.

  It sounded like bullshit to him, but why would they lie about something he could easily verify? Could it be true?

  Parovsky knew that international cooperation and information sharing was a cyber- security trend, but he still didn’t like it, especially not with these “partners.” Shared interests? Mutual objectives? Partnership? Trust? These bastards were no friends of the U.S.

  As good as he knew the Russians were, he figured that “information sharing” was just a nicer way of saying that they were out to steal U.S. cyber defense methodology, procedures and technology. Hell, he still wasn’t 100% sure that the Russians weren’t the ones behind the attack on the State Department, using Estonians as proxies to attack the U.S. Government while maintaining plausible deniability. He knew the Russians had engaged non-state hackers to launch past cyber-attacks to which they could not be directly attributed.

  Grigoryev did most of the talking, and was clearly the more senior of the two. They did not offer business cards; Parovsky made do by spelling their names phonetically in the small leather-bound notebook he carried. They started off with a few words about FSB, and its role in cyber defense, always addressing him in a formal way: “Mr. Parovsky. We are responsible for...”

  “Not just we,” Bashlykova interjected, “The Federal Security Service.”

  Looking a bit annoyed at his colleague’s interruption, Grigoryev began once again. “FSB has responsibility for the development and implementation of Russia’s national cybernetic defense policy.”

  Grigoryev provided some history of FSB and invited Parovsky to tour the KGB museum housed in the Lubyanka main building before finally getting down to business. Their agenda included information sharing on their common threats, discussing best practices and benchmarking on monitoring hostile groups, and shutting down networks.

  “We want to penetrate Deep Web to reveal these criminals’ identities,” Grigoryev said. His English was pretty good, save for some conjugation difficulties, but Parovsky understood that English is not an easy language to learn given all its irregularities.

  The Russians repeatedly spoke of common goals and shared interests. Parovsky was having mixed feelings; now he did not like the Russians again. The whole idea of cooperating with them while the U.S. Government has imposed economic sanctions baffled and bothered him.

  “You know, Kostrinsky Labs help us in tracking these criminals in Estonia, so we know where, and in some cases, who they are,” Bashlykova chimed in. Parovsky noticed how wrinkled the younger Russian’s shirt was, and that it wasn’t fully tucked into his pants.

  “Together,” Grigoryev interfered. “We must stop the spread of malicious information.”

  Parovsky shifted uncomfortably. This sounds a lot like censorship to me, he thought.

  “You know, Mr. Parovsky,” Grigoryev continued, “words and ideas can spur unrest. Like Islamic people that preach war against your country and my country.” He paused to let the idea sink in. “Why do you think they attack your country? Because of the freedom of the internet.” He stressed the word freedom. Parovsky could see their point. “Even your Admiral Mike McConnell who was head of NSA, even he called for big changes.”

  Bashlykova handed his colleague a piece of paper, from which Grigoryev read in his heavily-accented English. “Re-engineering the Internet to make attribution, geo-location, intelligence analysis and impact assessment—who did it, from where, why and what was the result—more manageable.” He put the paper down on the table and looked straight at Parovsky. “What do you say to that?” Grigoryev did that hard blinking thing again.

  They seemed to have read his mind and were aware of his cynicism towards them. Maybe they simply expect it of American Government officials, he figured.

  Parovsky responded with the official line. “I am here to discuss cooperation in defeating the common cyber threats affecting our countries at present.”

  The Russians offered to share their repository of all profiled hackers, noting that they were employing sophisticated technology that labeled each hacker. Even if he changed his IP address, the system would still know to recognize and identify him. “You must know your adversary’s tools, tactics and techniques,” the more senior Russian added. Hmmm, this was all interesting, Parovsky thought, but a bit over the top. Sensing his discomfort, they scaled back their proposal, offering “fingerprints” of known Estonian attackers. It was clear that collaboration and cooperation would save time and money DCA might waste duplicating efforts on which the Russians already had a firm grasp.

  The Russians even volunteered that “hostile elements,” as they called them, had once successfully hacked critical operational software that controlled a reactor at a nuclear power plant near the Baltic Sea. And Parovsky was surprised to learn that the notorious Stuxnet virus that infected Iran’s uranium enrichment efforts had also infected computers at the Russian Federal Space Agency and the Russian State Nuclear Corporation.

  Grigoryev added that “cybersecurity experts believe that Russia need to strengthen the protection of its nuclear power stations and other critical infrastructure facilities and systems from cyber-attacks.”

  “Same as in my country,” Parovsky shared.

  “Our Duma has discussed a bill requiring strengthen security at Russia’s most critical infrastructure sites.”

  They agreed on a framework for information exchange, with regular video conferences between the sides to exchange relevant information regarding planned hostile activity by Estonian hackers. The overall framework was not unlike the agreements in place with other like- minded countries. In the discussions, Parovsky was careful to keep the agreement very well defined. For later use in preparing a meeting summary, Parovsky jotted the wording in his notebook that the agreement’s scope was “groups attacking both countries at present, rather than a general intelligence-sharing agreement that might affect or be perceived to affect other groups seeking freedom or otherwise using the internet to convey their cause.” The situation he had in mind was the Russian feminist punk rock protest group called Pussy Riot, who spoke up for gay rights and opposed the Russian president’s policies. The arrest and imprisonment of Pussy Riot band members was said to illustrate Russia’s stifling freedom of expression and dissent, with Russia on a course towards returning to its days as a police state.

  “We want your government to stop their economic sanctions, even quietly.”

  Whoa! Parovsky thought. This is way over my head. Parovsky knew that Russia was feeling the pinch of international sanctions imposed in the wake of their aggression against Ukraine and Estonia. The annexations were costing the country billions of dollars when they assumed retirees’ pensions, raised state workers’ salaries to match equivalent state salaries in Russia, and reimbursed bank accounts left empty when banks fled the invading Russian troops and took depositors’ money with them. Add to that the cost of invading and occupying parts of two neighboring countries, the price of economic isolation and capital flight from the threat of more international sanctions, Russia was
looking for relief; Russian expansionism was not coming cheaply.

  He felt his safest bet was retreating to his official mandate. “Gentlemen, I am from the United States Department of Cyber Activity here to discuss the Estonian hacker attacks affecting both our countries.”

  Ignoring Parovsky’s reply, Grigoryev dropped a bombshell. “Mr. Edward Snowden, yes?” Grigoryev blinked hard again.

  Parovsky looked up, a bit shocked to be hearing the name. “What about him?”

  “You know?”

  Is he asking me if I know Snowden, or making a statement that he knows I met him? Probably best to stay poker-faced on this one and see where he’s taking this.

  The Russians had wrongly overestimated Parovsky’s seniority. As they saw it, Parovsky had represented the stance of the United States Government at the Kostrinsky Labs conference, where he had laid down the law as the U.S. saw it, his job title could be misinterpreted to think he was far more senior than he actually was, and he was the official delegate representing the United States by coming to Moscow to establish this cyber information sharing mechanism.

  Grigoryev continued. “We think this man is of interest to your government, yes?”

  Parovsky, whose eyes had widened without his noticing but did not go unnoticed by Grigoryev’s trained eyes, was carefully taking this all in, trying to process what was going on. Before he could formulate an answer, especially since this was way out of his league, the Russian continued. “Maybe his stay in Russia come to end, yes? Or maybe I give you address of his flat. Moscow is big city. Sometimes there is crime here, even murders.” He simultaneously lifted his hands and head in a gesture that said that crime is a fact of life. “Think about it, Mr. Parovsky.”

  Holy Shit! The Russians had just offered Snowden if the U.S. quietly dropped its economic sanctions. Parovsky was running this whole thing through his mind. It truly was one helluva bargaining chip the Russians held to get the Americans off their backs. It was a brilliant move.

  Russian Intelligence had determined the U.S. administration had abandoned its scruples, evidenced by its kowtowing to Iran at the expense of all its Gulf allies, and proved itself fangless with the so-called red lines declared over Syria’s use of chemical weapons and to pro-Russian Ukrainian officials facing mass protests, both of which were crossed with no consequences. The Russians joked that the United States president was like the unarmed British policeman who warns: “Stop! Or else I’ll tell you to stop again!”

  Parovsky was beside himself with excitement and couldn’t wait to convey this one back to Washington, regretting that he was without his computer to send an email back. He would have to do it verbally by secure telephone line in the embassy, even though he preferred a written record of the fact that this information was originating with Elliot Parovsky.

  15. DESPERATION

  “They said what?!!” Chaseman asked, his blue eyes nearly bulging out of their sockets as he leaned forward in his desk chair. He reflexively glanced at the door to his office to make sure it was closed, even though he knew it was. Decked out in a heavily starched blue and white checkered shirt and pressed khakis, Chaseman looked intently at Parovsky leaning back in the visitor’s chair across from his desk. “You know we’ve got people spending their days trying to find this guy. Tell me more, then we’ll go report this to the CIA station chief.”

  Parovsky had calmed down from the high he was on when he left FSB headquarters. His heart thumped loudly in his chest the entire ride over to the U.S. embassy, and he was sweating as if he had been exercising. They discussed the idea of sanctions relief in exchange for Snowden and how absurd the situation was: U.S. sanctions imposed on the Russian government as punishment for Russian aggression against Estonia that caused Estonian hackers to attack the U.S. in retaliation for U.S. inaction that then led to U.S.-Russian cyber cooperation that might yield the top U.S. fugitive!

  “Mind- boggling, wouldn’t you say!” Chaseman said as they both laughed.

  “Unbelievable!” Parovsky responded, smiling and shaking his head in feigned incomprehension.

  “Who’d of thunk?!” It sounded to Parovsky like something a kid would say. Parovsky looked up at his blond haired, gum-chewing colleague and thought his friend has yet to outgrow being an “all-American kid” like Opie on the Andy Griffith show.

  “Seems they are desperate,” Chaseman ventured. “But it shows the economic sanctions have got to be hurting them. You know, the government here had to urge its citizens not to panic because of the economic situation.”

  Parovsky shook his head no, even though Chaseman didn’t expect a response.

  “The ruble fell to its lowest level against the dollar in something like 15 years, and there are fears that this, along with the international sanctions, will send inflation rates soaring.”

  Economic data bored the shit out of Parovsky.

  “Just one more factoid!” Chaseman pleaded, wrapping up his economics lecture.

  “Chances are there will be a recession here. Growth was already below 1% in the first half of this year.”

  “Enough already!” Parovsky pleaded, holding up his hand as if to say STOP! “I think you need a home visit to see your wife, or go find yourself a local whore. You definitely need to get laid!”

  Chaseman’s cheeks turned red at Parovksy’s mention of sex, which Parovsky found humorous given it was happening to a grown man. “I find economics fascinating,” Chaseman protested with his boyish grin.

  Parovsky shook his head in disbelief. “Interesting though that they’ll risk their economy for the sake of a couple of Russian-speakers in Estonia. I don’t get these Russians,” Parovsky said, continuing to shake his head in confusion.

  “You know Winston Churchill’s line about them, don’t you?”

  “No,” Parovsky answered, shaking his head from side to side. “What did he say?” Parovsky asked, smiling in anticipation of something witty or with typical British sarcasm.

  “He called them ‘a riddle wrapped in a mystery inside an enigma.’” Chaseman beamed, proud that he had so perfectly pegged the Russians, even though it wasn’t his quote. Parovsky smiled a closed mouth smile, shook his head in agreement and added, “that’s for sure.”

  Mention of Estonia moved the conversation to the Russian-Estonian crisis, which was far from over. Following an incident when Russian troops had launched Grad rockets on civilian areas, Estonia’s president filed charges with the International Criminal Court based in the Dutch city of Hague accusing Russia of war crimes and causing undue suffering that he said constituted “crimes against humanity.”

  “Check this out.” Reading from an article, Chaseman quoted Estonia’s president declaring his suit was “a test for humanity and moral dignity. Because turning a blind eye to such horrible and shameful crimes means indulging terrorists and aggressors and violating high European values for which Estonians are suffering and dying.”

  Parovsky raised his eyebrows and noted, “very colorful description!”

  Leaning back in his swivel chair, Chaseman added, “Don’t get excited, Ell. The Kremlin responded that the charges filed with the ICC prove the Estonian president’s mental health is in doubt!”

  “In any event,” Chaseman continued, “Russia doesn’t recognize ICC rulings against its citizens.”

  “How does it get away with that?”

  “Simple. It never ratified the court’s founding treaty.” Chaseman grinned.

  “And how do you even know all this?” Parovsky asked, squinting his eyes and shaking his head.

  Chaseman was a repository of knowledge. When he picked up a newspaper—he read several each day—he immediately discarded the sports section, about which he had absolutely no interest, and went straight to the Economics, Finance or Money sections, and then to World news, meaning he was always up to date and very knowledgeable about the world around him. Parovsky alway
s enjoyed their talks and learned something new from him every time they spoke.

  “As Russia has regained its former confidence,” Chaseman added, “Their clandestine services have been operating more assertively beyond Russia’s borders—including Estonia, of course. You can bet they had provocateurs there stirring the pot.” He paused and added, “What the heck do you expect from a country run by the former head of the FSB?!” Parovsky nodded his head in agreement.

  Finally, Parovsky told Chaseman about his time spent with Alexandra.

  “You had best be careful,” Chaseman cautioned, wondering if he should mention this to the LEGAT, the local resident FBI representative at the embassy. He dismissed the thought, feeling it would almost be betraying Parovsky.

  “Don’t be ridiculous. She’s just a receptionist,” Parovsky protested.

  “Yeah. At Kostrinsky Labs!” Chaseman countered. He shook his index finger at Parovsky for emphasis.

  Taking offense, Parovsky asked while irked: “What’s the big deal? They’re protecting data on tens of millions of computers around the world. With all they have access to, 1 can’t trust one of their secretaries?”

  “Sounds like the fox guarding the chicken coop, doesn’t it Ell?” Chaseman responded with his boyish smile that defused Parovsky. “Isn’t it ironic,” Chaseman continued, “that Kostrinsky is proffering services to defend one’s network given his KGB -sponsored training and relationship with Russian FSB?”