Dark Trojan (The Adam Drake series Book 3)

by Scott Matthews

  “Bill,” Liz said, “could the Industrial Control Systems Cyber Emergency Response Team at DHS help if there’s a worm?”

  “Not really,” he said. “The emergency response team is more interested in preserving forensic data after the fact. They would insist that no removal software be used and tell us to avoid making any changes because it would overwrite important information about the malware. I don’t think we have that much time. This is what we’re good at. If anyone can fix it, we can.”

  For the next hour, the team maintained radio silence as they considered the destruction that would result from a widespread blackout in America. With no electricity, lights would go out. Air conditioning and heating units would shut down. There would be no running water. No fuel supply because fuel pumps wouldn’t pump. No functioning garbage or sewage systems. Public transportation operators would lose control of subways and trains and not be able to prevent crashes. Air traffic controllers wouldn’t be able to clear planes for landings and airports would be the scenes of a thousand crashes. Electronic warning signs on freeways wouldn’t function, nor would traffic lights on surface streets in any city or town across America. Electronic and telephonic communications and the Internet would cease. The economy would be in free-fall. Then would come the rioting as the inevitable panic spread. It would be a nation in chaos.

  And it would remain a nation in chaos for months or even years because the most likely targets of such a cyber attack on the power grid would be the huge transformers, which are difficult to move and have a replacement time of months to years, as most of them are special-ordered and made overseas.

  By the time they reached EIS in San Francisco, Bradford’s rapid response team was in full war mode and working to identify the threat and what it was designed to do. John Lewiston, the IT security analyst, led Bradford, Drake, and Strobel into a small conference room near the area where the response team was huddled.

  “We caught a break,” he told them. “We found a file that had been added to our software and recognized it as the Wiper file that the Stuxnet worm also has. I’ve got our customer support staff calling all our clients to see how many of them have already installed our software. We’re ordering them to quarantine the infected computers so the threat doesn’t spread over the grid. Detection and removal kits for this worm have been released by Symantec—also by the Iranian government after it was attacked. We’re working on a patch we can send out.”

  Bradford slumped down in his chair at the head of the conference table. “John, how the hell did this happen?”

  Lewiston managed an uneasy smile. “You know the how is the easy part. Slip a flash drive into a USB port of one our computers on the network, and the deed is done. Who is the harder question.”

  “And you think you know who it was. I can see it on your face.”

  “I’ve been here for nine years, Bill, and I know our people. I don’t think it was any of them. There’s only one person I didn’t have time to get to know very well, and that’s the new guy you hired just before we finished the DAARPA project. My money’s on him.”

  Bradford nodded toward Drake. “He agrees with you. It’s possible Capelli was involved. But why? What would he gain by sabotaging our work?”

  Drake pushed himself away from the table and stood up. “You’re focused on your software, Bill. You aren’t the target. The electrical grid is. This isn’t corporate espionage. It’s the new form of terrorism. If Klein and Parker were the brains behind this, they tried to get into your system with the phishing attacks you were originally worried about. When that didn’t work, they had to get someone inside.”

  “But to do that they had to kill my employee, Nick Kawasaki. I just don’t see either Klein or Parker as a killer.”

  “They didn’t have to be. They just had to find someone to do it for them.” Drake leaned against the wall and looked at Liz Strobel, who was reading a text message she had just received. When she looked up at him, he continued, “And that reminds me of something I thought about when we were flying back here. Klein and Parker didn’t have to create this virus. They just had to get their hands on a copy of it. Where would they do that, Liz?”

  “A number of places, I suspect. Internet security firms like Symantec have copies of the virus to analyze. The Army Cyber Command has it. And may well have helped create it.”

  “So finding out where they got a copy of the virus isn’t going to help me find Capelli. Is that what you’re saying?”

  “Well,” she said, “it might lead us somewhere eventually. But the text message I just got might. Capelli isn’t his real name. In fact nothing about him seems to check out. Not his parents, not his education and degrees, and not his work history.”

  “Who is he, then?”

  “Someone with a very good set of faked credentials.”

  Chapter 56

  While the EIS rapid response team worked into the night to prevent a nationwide blackout, Ryan Walker was preparing to wipe out any trace of a connection to the two dead solar CEO’s and their plan, which he now knew would fail. The Army Cyber Command analyst he had blackmailed to obtain a copy of the Flame worm had called to say that DHS special agents were interviewing everyone who had access to the worm to determine if a copy of it had gone missing. The analyst had also said it was just a matter of time before they focused on him and that he was planning on leaving the country. Walker knew that it wasn’t a coincidence that the same day the bodies of Klein and Parker were discovered, a search began for the purloined copy of the Flame worm.

  Walker stood with his hands on his hips looking at the lights of the city. A soft twilight purple lingered after the fading sunset as he considered his options. Clearly, Congressman Sanchez had to be silenced. Once the financial records of Klein and Parker were studied, and the relationship they had established with Sanchez as they fought for the stimulus grants for their solar companies was discovered, said congressman would be questioned about his two contributors. If anyone looked closely at Sanchez’s financial records and learned about the soft money he received from the cartels, Sanchez himself would be investigated. A threat of indictment, an offer of leniency in exchange for cooperation, and the oily politician would sing like the proverbial canary. Well, Walker said to himself, Saleem Canaan would solve that problem tonight after dinner.

  The remaining, and bigger, problem involved the attorney from Oregon who now had interfered three times in matters in which he and the Alliance had been involved. The last two matters had ended in failure, but not due to anything he was responsible for.

  The current matter was different. He had been the one who proposed the cyber attack on the American power grid after Klein and Parker had clumsily approached him with their idea to make solar power more popular. He had been the one who had assured his partners in the Middle East that it was feasible to strike a blow that would bring the Great Satan to its knees and have the attack blamed on two homegrown terrorists. The current administration liked to promote the fears of the far right by using the words “homegrown terrorists,” so why not offer up two scapegoat homegrown terrorists on a platter? The beauty of the whole thing was that the tool he had proposed was the very same worm the Jews and the Americans had developed and used on Iran. As he had pointed out, the irony was perfect. Yes, Walker realized, he was deeply involved.

  But the real irony was that while the organization he led, the Alliance, always operated behind the scenes and was never blamed for the violence created by the others. This time, he and the Alliance would be blamed for all of it.

  The only way he saw to minimize the blow they were about to take was to get out of the country. Which he planned on doing tonight. There remained, however, the problem of the attorney who kept interfering with his plans. Perhaps Canaan would have some ideas on that. He seemed to have a particular dislike for the man.

  Walker left his study and took the winding stairs down to the k
itchen on the first floor, where his personal chef was preparing Congressman Sanchez’s elaborate last meal. When he was satisfied that it was well under way, he called his bodyguard into the library.

  “Karl, we leave tonight. Pack our bags and make sure the Learjet is fueled and ready to leave at midnight. The house staff will remain here, but have security and communications pack things up to join us. I want to be home by tomorrow.”

  “Yes, sir. Will anyone else be coming?”

  “Only Maxwell, my bank manager. I don’t want him available to answer questions. He’ll make an unscheduled inspection of our banks in Europe for a month or two. He’ll meet us at the airport.”

  “Very good, sir.”

  Walker filled a tumbler with twenty-five-year-old Chivas Regal and sat down in the leather wing chair next to the fireplace. It was time to consider how to best serve up the meddlesome attorney’s head on a silver platter.

  Chapter 57

  While the EIS rapid response team continued working on the worm, Drake motioned for Strobel to join him in the hall outside the conference room.

  “I know it’s late back east,” he said, “but do you have someone who can dig up some information about this guy posing as Anthony Capelli? He’s our only lead right now.”

  “Intelligence and Analysis is always staffed,” she replied. “What do you want them to look for?”

  “Anything that’ll lead us to his real identity. Is there anything in any of the data bases that will identify him? Who made his fake credentials? Someone went to a lot of trouble to plant him here. And see if there’s any more intelligence about an Iranian plot to bring down our energy grid.”

  “His personnel file has a photo of him, I’ll send that to them. What are you thinking about?”

  “I thought I might give Mike a call and see if his hacker, Kevin McRoberts, would be willing to help us.”

  “What can he do that my people can’t?”

  “Something that you can’t do without a warrant. Don’t worry, Liz. This is on me.”

  She pursed her lips and hesitated for a moment, then nodded and took out her cell phone to call DHS.

  Drake watched her walk back into the conference room to retrieve Capelli’s personnel file. He appreciated her tacit approval of his intention to step outside the law to get the information they needed. He hoped Casey was as willing to work with him after being poisoned last week.

  When Casey answered his call, Drake walked down the hall to the reception area so their conversation would be private. “Mike, how are you doing?”

  “Megan’s not letting me go into work until my doctor gives me a full release. And I haven’t been able to convince him that the slight numbness in my fingers is no big deal. How are you doing? I haven’t heard a word from you since I returned to Seattle.”

  “Well, I didn’t want to give your wife another reason to hate me for getting you involved. But there’s a bad moon rising here in San Francisco.”

  Casey knew enough from working with Drake in the past that they would be speaking in generalities from that point on. “That’s too bad,” he said in a neutral voice. “Anything I can do to help?

  “I’m having a problem getting some information I need.”

  “Would you like me to have the technician who helped you last week give you a call?”

  “That would be great. If you don’t mind him helping me as he did before.”

  “In for a penny, in for a pound.”

  “Thanks, Mike. Hey—get better. I’ll come see you as soon as I can wrap things up here.”

  When he returned to the conference room where Bradford was overseeing his team, Strobel told him that pizza was on the way for the team and that they planned to keep working for as long as it took.

  “Would you mind taking me back to the hotel?” she asked. “I don’t think I can do pizza and energy drinks tonight. But a nice bath and a change of clothes sure would be nice.”

  “I’ll just let Bradford know we’re leaving. We’re just getting in the way, anyway. And something other than pizza sounds good.”

  Drake gave Bradford a business card with his cell phone number jotted on the back and walked Strobel out of the building to his borrowed Audi TTS. It was almost six o’clock and the sun was low in the west, but it was a warm fall night with a clear sky that promised another nice day.

  “This is a great city,” Strobel said as they pulled out of the parking lot to drive to her hotel. Lights were beginning to twinkle across the Bay. “I’ve always enjoyed coming here,” she added.

  “I hope you still feel that way when you leave.”

  “I will. Bradford’s going to take care of the worm and we’ll find the people behind it. Sooner or later. I’ve had a nice dinner, been flown to Lake Tahoe, and got to see you again.”

  Drake didn’t say anything, as she rested her hand on his right arm. He wasn’t uncomfortable with her touch, but he wasn’t sure he was ready to respond to it quite yet. The thought of intimacy with another woman still felt wrong, but Liz had said she was willing to wait for him

  “When you’re finished at your hotel,” he said casually, “why don’t you catch a cab and meet me in the View on the 39th floor of my hotel and I’ll treat you to dinner. I’m waiting for Mike’s guy to call. That’ll give us both time to shower and change.”

  “I’ll check in with DHS,” she said, “and see if we’ve come up with anything. But I’ll only accept your invitation for dinner on one condition. I get to select and buy the wine. Time you came to understand that California still makes the best wine.”

  Drake laughed. “You can select it, and I’ll even let you pay for it, but don’t expect me to agree with you. For me to betray Oregon wine would be like a Democrat voting for a balanced budget.”

  Strobel slapped him playfully on the shoulder. “I withdraw my invitation for you to visit me in Washington. Being seen with you would guarantee my name would be on the President’s enemies list.”

  Chapter 58

  Ryan Walker waited for Congressman Sanchez in the living room of his mansion with a second tumbler of Chivas Regal. When the congressman was ushered in, he waved him to the coffee table and the drinks tray.

  “Arturo, help yourself to a glass of your favorite, Johnny Walker Black. I had some on reserve just for you,” Walker said. There was no need to waste the more expensive twenty-five-year-old Chivas Regal on a man who didn’t have long to live.

  “Thank you for remembering,” Sanchez said. “I didn’t know you were in the country.”

  Walker smiled at the lie. Sanchez had known the minute he had arrived in San Francisco because he had been picked up in the bank’s limo. Sanchez’s nephew was the limo driver, a favor extended to Sanchez when he had agreed to serve on the bank’s board of directors when he was being prepared to seek public office. Sanchez wouldn’t know when he left, however, because he’d been using a leased limo since then.

  “I’m only here for a short time,” he replied. “I’m on my way to Singapore. But I’m here because you asked me to see a couple of your constituents.”

  “Yes. Mr. Klein and Mr. Parker. Were you able to help them?”

  “Unfortunately, no. They were seeking far more than I was prepared to invest on their behalf. Did they discuss their plan with you?”

  Sanchez leaned forward to refill his Scotch and answered without looking at Walker. “I assumed they needed money to bail out their companies and couldn’t find a more, shall we say, traditional lender.”

  “Yes, they did hint at that. They seemed quite sure that I could help them since they had paid you such a handsome finder’s fee.”

  “That’s the way things work, no? Besides, the money was paid to the 501(c)(4) nonprofit I set up years ago to help the agricultural workers in California when I was a labor leader. It can’t be traced to me.”

  It would be
, Walker knew, when the financial records of Klein and Parker were closely examined. Another reason for the congressman to retire from life, both public and personal.

  “Have there been other contributions made directly to you for your campaigns?” he inquired. “I know you were instrumental in the stimulus money they received for their solar companies.”

  “Not nearly enough, I can tell you. For nearly a billion dollars in grant money, you would think those two cabrones could come up with more than a measly couple hundred thousand dollars.”

  “Arturo, what can you expect of men with no honor? From men who show no respect to a man in your position? Come, let us eat. The dinner I have had my chef prepare for you will show you that you are respected here.”

  Walker led his guest to the dining room across the hall, with its curved wall of twelve foot tall windows that looked out onto a courtyard bordered with large pots of flowering purple bougainvillea. The long, formal dining room table had been replaced with a smaller oval table that allowed the men to enjoy the view of the courtyard. A footman wearing a white shirt with a black vest, trousers, and bow tie stood beside the marble-topped ebony buffet on which stood a decanter of pink wine, a bottle of white wine in an earthenware wine chiller, and a bottle of champagne in an ice bucket. Special glasses for each variety of wine waited on a silver tray for each course of the dinner.

  When they were seated, another footman entered and placed a plate for each of them on the chargers on the table.

  “I hope you enjoy the meal,” Walker said as the footman spread the creamy cloth napkin on his lap. “I asked my chef to specially prepare this for you, Arturo. I paired these veal sweetbreads with a Rosé de Richeys. He nodded to the wine server to go ahead and pour them each a glass.

  “That will be followed by seared scallops and sautéed asparagus, with a watercress salad and a Sauvignon Blanc from the Santa Ynez Valley here in your California. For dessert we’ll have a nice Riesling poached pear tart with a bottle of blanc de noirs Champagne. I don’t get to see you often enough and may not see you again for awhile, so let me propose a toast to a long life and our mutual prosperity.”