by Steve Lewis
Dancer moved to examine a glass case displaying some of the hand weapons used in the First World War. He seemed quite taken by a vicious-looking trench knife that married a wickedly sharp blade with a knuckle-duster handle.
‘Inventive.’
‘Brutal,’ Harry replied.
‘Well, if I’d been in the trenches I would have wanted one of those. Each war calls for new and better weapons. And in the current war our man in the lake was well-equipped for battle.’
Dancer had lowered his voice and Dunkley stepped closer to the case.
‘As you know, Lin An came to Australia on a diplomatic passport; his occupation was listed as construction worker. Turns out he was a cyber-spy, one of China’s best. He was attached to Unit 61398, an arm of China’s People’s Liberation Army. Its headquarters have been tracked to a building in Shanghai.
‘Harry, that building is the source of thousands of cyber-attacks launched by the PLA against dozens of countries and numerous corporations.’
Dunkley had read reports on the growth in China’s cyber-armies. He also knew that cautious governments and corporations were reluctant to admit to security breaches. So people were in the dark about the scale of the problem – and whether it was driven by states, criminal syndicates or thrillseekers.
‘Charles, I’m no great shakes on computing but can’t you hack into a system from anywhere in the world? Like those teenage nerds who bring down New York banking systems from their bedrooms?’
Dancer tapped the glass case holding the array of weapons.
‘All these things are harmless, you know, Harry. Here behind the glass. They’re made with deadly purpose but only become dangerous when they’re wielded with deadly intent. But if I were to smash the glass, pick up a gun, load it and point it at you? Well, you’d get a whole new perspective on the weapon.’
Dancer squatted beside the case and pointed out a long-barrelled pistol near the bottom of the display.
‘I’d pick that one, by the way. It’s a variant of the German Luger that came out in 1917. The Parabellum M17. It can hold thirty rounds. Beautiful. You have to admire the Germans.’
‘What’s your point?’
Dancer rose in a swift fluid movement that belied his fifty-nine years.
‘Computers are just another weapons system. To be dangerous they have to be operated by someone with evil intent. To be deadly they have to be able to defeat the trenches and castle walls we build to defend ourselves. Our most precious secrets are very well defended. To get at those, Harry, you need someone to open the door.
‘Lin An’s memory stick reveals that the Chinese have managed to crack some of our most secure communications. Not everything. But given he was trying to defect, I assume the USB was just a taster. God knows what the Chinese have. If Lin An hadn’t jumped the fence we would be none the wiser. And we still have no idea where the hole in our defences is.’
Dunkley pondered the menacing contents of the display case.
‘So someone has broken the glass and is about to use our own weapons against us?’
‘It would appear so. And the glass was broken from the inside.’
The next day, Dunkley’s story ran prominently on page one, above the fold, accompanied by a trio of sharply detailed photos.
SNAPPED: CHINA’S SECRET SPY MISSION
China’s new embassy in Canberra is a sophisticated spy-base that poses a direct threat to Australia’s national security, senior intelligence officials fear.
A series of photographs, obtained exclusively by The Australian, reveals the secret construction works that will form part of a hi-tech eavesdropping hub.
The Australian has also confirmed that the Chinese official who drowned in Lake Burley Griffin this month was a high-ranking cyber-spy. Lin An, aged in his thirties, has been identified as a member of the Shanghai-based cyber-command centre, Unit 61398.
It is understood Mr Lin was planning to defect and was carrying information that suggests China has compromised some of Australia’s deepest secrets.
Officials say former prime minister Catriona Bailey ignored National Security Committee advice when she gave China the go-ahead to build its new embassy with an imported workforce.
Martin Toohey re-read the story as he subconsciously fiddled with the knot of his Armani tie. George Papadakis recognised the sign that his boss was agitated.
‘How come Dunkley knows more about our intelligence than I do?’ the PM thundered. ‘And why is it that someone in the intelligence community has decided to parade their concerns on his front page? That’s a crime. If they have a beef, why don’t they come to me?’
Papadakis gave voice to what they were both thinking.
‘Maybe they’re not on our side.’
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Melbourne
Even before she’d stepped out of her St Kilda apartment, Alison Cox suspected the gods were conspiring against her. The day had started badly when her Remington flamed out. She’d had the hairdryer less than a week and wasted fifteen minutes searching for its warranty slip.
It was closing in on 7am and she scurried to catch a 122 tram. A half-hour later, she was juggling a half-eaten croissant and a coffee as she waited for another tram to Docklands.
The ANZ’s Melbourne office was the headquarters for the bank’s information systems. Cox was Manager, Network Behavioural Analysis – a job title that took a fair bit of explaining at dinner parties.
‘We are the new vault walls,’ she would say.
A small team was under her watch, charged with ensuring that tens of millions of dollars in daily transactions were secure. She’d been hired six months earlier, as part of a big push to bolster ANZ’s defences against cyber-criminals.
It was nearly 7.45am when she walked into her office and the overnight traffic flows were being analysed by her team.
She examined the summary sheet. ‘Volumetric flows are normal.’
An hour and a half later, as Cox was convening her first meeting of the day, the first sign of trouble appeared. It was 9.11am when her team identified a spike in traffic on the internet banking system. It was manageable.
Two minutes later, her phone buzzed. ‘Alison – my office, now please.’
Wendy Chang was ANZ’s high-powered chief information officer, a brilliant analyst recruited to overhaul creaky security systems.
‘What’s happening with this uptick in traffic?’ She was pointing to a graph on one of her computer screens that was blinking madly.
‘Not certain at this stage, Wendy. It’s certainly a big increase; we are monitoring and trying to isolate it now.’
‘Okay, keep me posted. Thanks.’
Cox walked back to her office, stopping briefly to talk with a colleague about Thursday night drinks. The chat was interrupted by her deputy.
‘You need to see this, Alison. It’s going haywire.’
It was 9.45am. ANZ’s internet banking system was being bombarded with wall-to-wall requests.
Customer service was starting to receive irate phone calls as frustrated customers tried and failed to log on to the bank’s internet system, bogged down by a massive increase in traffic.
Cox’s phone rang – it was her boss, and she wanted her back.
‘What’s going on?’ Chang asked.
‘It looks like a denial of service attack.’ Cox furrowed her brow as she stared into the system diagnostics readout on her screen. ‘And it’s massive. Our computers can’t keep pace. If it amps up anymore they’ll start to shut down.’
‘God!’ Chang had been at the bank for only a year and in that time had seen very few real cases of internet sabotage. She was taking no risks.
‘Okay, I’m convening a high-priority incident team. Alison, I want you and Grant in the meeting room. Five minutes.’
Chang swung around to her computer. She clicked on her email, shaking out the stress in her shoulders before composing a note to ANZ senior management.
High Incident Ale
rt.
It appears that the bank has been hit with a cyber-attack.
The first signs were logged just after 9am.
High volume of requests on internet banking.
Customer service has slowed.
Looks like a distributed denial of service attack. Lots of ‘bots’.
Not sure of its origins.
My team is monitoring and seeking to rectify.
I will issue another HIA at 11am.
Wendy
It was now 10am. Chang had convened her security team. There were six in the group and each had been through countless cyber-drills and exercises.
But this was the real deal.
‘What’s the latest on traffic volumes?’
Andy Taylor had the data, and flicked across his iPad screen till he found the exact figure. ‘It’s up 189 per cent on daily average. We’re adding extra capacity but it’s not . . . doesn’t appear to be working at the minute . . .’
‘Wendy . . .’ Cox leapt into the conversation. ‘I’ve just had an alert from credit card transactions. They’re in trouble, too.’
It was compounding. Chang was now seriously worried. The ANZ was under attack.
‘Okay, give me a minute.’
She walked into her adjacent office and picked up her phone. She dialled ‘1’ and waited a brief moment.
‘John, we’ve got a big problem. You know we’ve been hit with a ‘denial of service’ attack. It’s getting worse.’
John Griffith had been ANZ’s chief executive for the past eight years. He’d kicked off his career more than thirty years earlier as a teller in the Queensland rural centre of Roma, rising through the ranks to become one of the highest paid CEOs in Australia.
‘How bad, Wendy?’
‘Internet banking has slowed and some portals are down. Credit card transactions are also reporting massive increase in traffic volumes and they’re not coping. We’re adding extra capacity where we can . . . but John, I’m not sure the systems are going to cope. I’ve got a high-priority incident team in place; they’re next door now, and we’re trying to identify and isolate where it’s coming from. Hold on, just one sec, John . . .’
Chang turned towards an ashen-faced Cox who was holding up her iPad. She put the phone down and moved closer to see the information on the screen.
To her surprise it displayed a map of the Asia-Pacific region and a small blinking light was pulsing on a city to Australia’s north.
Shanghai.
Canberra
George Papadakis’s afternoon was shaken by an urgent call from the ANZ chairman.
‘George, I’ll be brief.’ Ken Donaldson was agitated.
‘In fifteen minutes we’ll be issuing a formal statement to the ASX. It will announce that all of our systems have been shut down due to a technical issue with our servers. None of our customers will have access to their accounts or credit cards for the next twenty-four hours. We’ll assure people that their money is safe and that normal service will resume as soon as possible.
‘Now, George, I’m about to tell you something in the utmost confidence. Our systems have been attacked. We’ve been forced to shut them down. And we’re genuinely concerned that if this news gets out it will shake customer confidence. I don’t need to tell you what a run on the ANZ would mean for the entire financial system.
‘We’re trying to trace the origin of the attack but that’s very hard as whoever is behind this has recruited zombie computers from around the world. But we know this much. It’s very sophisticated and our guys believe that only a state would have the resources. Everyone here in Melbourne is pretty sure it’s coming from China.’
Papadakis raced into the Prime Minister’s office.
‘PM . . .’ Papadakis was breathless. ‘PM . . . the ANZ is shutting down internet banking . . . a massive cyber-attack . . . they think it’s coming from China.’
Toohey looked exhausted.
‘And I just got off the phone to the head of the stock exchange. It’s suspending trading twenty minutes early and blaming it on some vague computer malfunction. It’s not true. Their computers were overloaded by a denial of service attack. They think it’s China too.’
The two men grappled with the bombshell.
‘First air-traffic control, now this.’ Toohey broke the silence. ‘What could we have done to piss off the Chinese so much that they would do this? It just doesn’t make sense.’
Papadakis responded cautiously. ‘Well, I’m guessing. But we trumpet the US alliance, and then allow American troops on our soil. This while relations between the US and China are about as bad as they have ever been. Maybe it’s a warning.’
‘And we’re supposed to do what? Just roll over and cop it? Christ, I do that every day in this place. I’m jack of it. We need to send a message of our own.’
Toohey thumped his desk.
‘Martin, what can we possibly do to cause them any kind of grief? And this is the important bit, mate – what can we do that’s deniable?’
The Prime Minister turned to his trusted lieutenant and smiled.
‘George, get me the CFMEU.’
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Canberra
The steel handcuffs dug into the soft flesh of wrists shackled to a medieval wooden truss. Leather straps bound his ankles, stretching his pale body into a naked ‘X’ framed in a rectangle. Livid red marks striped his back.
Jonathan Robbie was used to being flogged by parliamentarians but this was very different.
A riding crop lashed the journalist’s buttocks, delivering a small dose of pleasure and plenty of pain.
‘Arrrhhh!’
‘Scream, bitch!’ yelled his tormentor, whose ardour was growing with each whack.
Emily Brooks was a study in dominatrix chic. Thigh-high black boots tapered to six-inch, silver-encased stiletto heels. Rockhard muscles met a taut arse, bare save for the sliver of a lipstick-red leather thong. Her toned and tanned torso was also bare and a black studded bra scarcely contained breasts that seemed too pert for her forty-eight years. Her hands and arms were encased in over-the-elbow gloves that neatly matched the none-too-subtle shade of the thong. A studded dog collar circled the Opposition leader’s neck.
Brooks paused to admire the criss-cross pattern she’d imprinted on her lover’s flesh and searched for a patch of unmarked skin. She found her spot and delivered a diagonal welt from right hip to left thigh with, perhaps, an excess of enthusiasm.
‘Shit! That really hurt,’ yelped her increasingly unwilling accomplice. The pair had agreed on a safe word before the sex play began and now Robbie decided to tap the mat.
‘Kittens!’ he squealed.
‘Oh, has the little petal had enough?’ sneered Brooks. ‘I was just getting warmed up.’
‘I know, my love, but we did discuss this.’ Robbie was struggling to get his hands free. ‘You know I’m uncomfortable with the handcuffs. I prefer rope or stockings, so I can get loose if I have to. Right now I feel . . . well, trapped.’
‘Don’t you trust me, sweetie?’ Brooks purred close to his ear.
The answer was no. He was terrified. The tingle of excitement had turned to a shiver of fear.
‘Of course I trust you,’ he lied. ‘So “Kittens”, my dear. Let me down.’
‘But I can’t do that just yet, Jonnie. I have something I wanted to talk about. And a special treat.’
‘You want to chat? Let’s get a coffee.’
‘I needed your full attention, dear. I was very disappointed with your story on our asylum seeker policy. I thought it was a bit unfair. You made me sound like a monster.’
‘Well, threatening to use the navy to sink asylum seeker boats is a touch extreme. I was tame by comparison with the others.’
‘But you know I wouldn’t do it. I just think we need to show some real steel to ensure no one makes that terribly unsafe journey. Sometimes what seems like cruelty is really the best way of saying I love you. So I’m disappointed in you,
Jonnie . . . but, don’t worry, you’ll get your special treat anyway.’
There was a dull buzz as something battery-powered was switched on.
‘What’s that?’ Robbie’s heart was pounding. ‘What are you doing?’
Brooks strayed into his view with her hands behind her, looking at once both fearsome and coy.
‘Just a little something I found in Fyshwick.’ She slowly pulled her hands from behind her back, revealing a breathtakingly dangerous-looking sex toy.
‘No, dear, no,’ Robbie pleaded. ‘You can’t be serious. And this isn’t funny. Kittens’ . . . Kittens’ playtime is over now!’
‘My dear, playtime has just begun.’
‘Nooooooooooooo!’
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Canberra
Dean Hall dubbed it Operation Trojan Horse. The local head of the militant building union had been dreaming of this sweet moment for a year. Everything had been planned to the minute.
The Chinese embassy site had been off limits to the Construction, Forestry, Mining and Energy Union, and that chafed. Instead the Chinese had shipped in their own labour – on diplomatic visas – to build their new headquarters behind a wall of secrecy. Several aerial photos showed, though, that the Chinese had a low regard for workplace safety.
What fucking building site would wrap razor wire around its perimeter?
The Chinese had banned Australian workers from the site; not even the ACT’s chief building inspector had been allowed to run the ruler over it. The gates were only ever opened to foreigners when the Chinese took delivery of building materials. This morning, the embassy had organised a delivery of blue metal. The supplier had been instructed to be at the front gate at 9.30am precisely. It was now 9.26.
The truck pulled up and the driver sounded the horn. The gate was unbolted and one of the Chinese security guards emerged. He recognised the driver but motioned in Hall’s direction and shook his head.
‘He comes in while I unload, mate,’ the driver shot back. ‘New union rules.’
The goon looked suspiciously at Hall but went back to the gates and pushed them both open. The diesel engine rattled into gear and the truck rolled fifty metres inside the wire.
