The Doodlebug War: a Tale of Fanatics and Romantics (Frank Adversego Thrillers Book 3)

by Andrew Updegrove

  When he reached the door to his apartment, he paused, one hand on the doorknob, staring at nothing, before turning around again. When he left a few moments later, Clare’s picture was standing upright on his dresser.

  * * *

  “Do you want to take a call from Benno?”

  This had better be good news, Mitty thought. “Sure, put him through.”

  “Morning, Benno. Is it safe?”

  “Let’s just say I’ve got good news for both of us. The House-Senate conference committee just released the final draft of the bill, and the full, unchanged text of our standard is still in it. It’s expected to clear both houses without any opposition. My wife is probably spending my bonus already.”

  Mitty heaved a sigh of relief. “Good work, Benno. I can’t help you out with Ellen. But if the president signs our bill into law, I’ll make sure you get your bonus on time.”

  And he’d pay it gladly, too. Three hundred thousand dollars was a big bonus for a trade association executive, but it paled in comparison to the rest of the money WeBCloud had poured into launching and underwriting the Data Center Security Alliance. Starting up DCSA had seemed like a risky bet two years before. He remembered waiting for Benno Patricoff back then at an expensive K Street restaurant in Washington, D.C. Patricoff was late, and Nate didn’t like late. Especially from someone who owed his job to him. And he wanted some time alone with Patricoff before Paul Roach, DCSA’s lobbyist, joined them.

  Finally, he spied Patricoff weaving his way between tables on his way across the room.

  “Hey. Sorry to keep you waiting. I was still getting materials out for the board meeting.”

  “I know. I just saw them show up in my email. Don’t be surprised if you hear from the board about that tomorrow. We should always receive board materials at least a week before a meeting.”

  There was no use offering excuses, Patricoff knew, even though he had good ones. Mitty only cared about results.

  “You’re right, of course. But I think I’ve got all the important things lined up.”

  “Think?”

  “Okay, I know. I’m sure we’re in good shape.”

  “Let’s see. Take me through your prep work.”

  “Right. So I’ve walked through everything with each of the directors that matter…”

  “By phone only—no email?”

  “No email. And they’re all on board.”

  For the first time that day, the tension in Mitty’s shoulders began to ease. If all of WeBCloud’s largest competitors had signed on, he knew he could move forward with his plan. “And the standard? You went through it in detail with them?”

  “Yes. I used the working group charter. It lays out everything that the standard will cover—what physical protections a data center must put in place, what levels and types of cybersecurity defenses it has to design into its systems, how often a data center’s security defenses have to be tested by third parties, and what scores they have to reach in order to stay in business. I’ve also spoken to all of the technical committee reps one or more times over the past week. I went through the charter with each of them line by line. They’re fine with it only addressing perimeter security and cybersecurity. And, as expected, they’d like to make it as inexpensive to implement as possible.”

  “Did they buy into the specific features I gave you? Every one?”

  “Every one.”

  Mitty had barely touched his drink so far, but now he took a real slug and sat back in his chair. “Okay. Good job.”

  Benno relaxed as well when he heard those words. He’d only worked with Mitty for a couple of weeks, but it was already clear to him that compliments would be few and hard-earned. He decided to take advantage of the moment. “Thanks. I was pleased with how things turned out as well. Were you able to get the Compensation Committee to agree to get together after the board meeting?”

  “Yes, and I’ve already spoken to each of them individually.”

  Good, thought Patricoff. Mitty might be tough, but at least he played by the same rules he set for his subordinates. He decided to take a chance and ask the obvious next question. “With good results, I hope?”

  “Yes. You get the standard done and adopted by the DCSA members and directors by the end of this year and you’ll get a bonus of two hundred thousand dollars. If you get Congress to incorporate it into a data center law next year, you get a thirty thousand dollar bonus on the second anniversary of your contract.”

  “That sounds good. What metrics would I need to hit to earn a partial bonus?”

  “There are no other metrics. This is all or nothing, just as I said before. That’s why the bonus is so big.”

  Darn it, thought Patricoff. That was the deal Mitty said he’d ask the comp committee to agree to, but Patricoff had been hoping the other directors might talk Mitty into something more reasonable. “Okay. You can’t blame a bloke for trying, though.” He pointed with his chin across the dining room at a tall, broad-shouldered, impeccably dressed man approaching them. “Is that Paul Roach?”

  “Yes. Let me introduce you.” The two men rose. “Paul, good to see you again. Meet Benno Patricoff, our new DCSA executive director.”

  Roach beamed, extending his hand to Patricoff. “Glad we could get together tonight. I’m looking forward to working with you.”

  “And the same. I’ve spent a fair amount of time working the Hill in my past jobs, but Nate tells me you’re the grand master. I’m looking forward to your advice on how to improve my game.”

  “I’m sure you’re selling yourself short. But if I’ve got any tricks up my sleeve you don’t already know, I’ll be happy to share them.”

  They spent most of the next hour getting to know each other. It wasn’t until the waiter was serving coffee that Mitty turned the conversation to serious business.

  “So, Paul, what have you got planned so far?”

  “For starters, we’ve figured out all the people Benno needs to meet on a regular basis on the Hill, including on the key agencies and committees, and set up first meetings with each.”

  Benno was impressed. “Wow. That’s fast work. Nate tells me he only signed you up on Monday.”

  “Of course. That’s why he chose us.”

  That and a few other factors, Mitty thought, just as there was more to the standard than anyone knew but him.

  “When you get to your office tomorrow,” Roach continued, “you’ll find a briefing book waiting for you. It covers every elected member of every relevant House and Senate committee and subcommittee and each of their staff people that have an interest in cybersecurity. Same for the key staff on the involved committees, plus the National Institute of Standards and Technology and the Federal Trade Commission and Department of Justice. As you know, the FTC and DOJ are the regulators that enforce the antitrust laws. Down the line, we’ll probably want you to speak with the U.S. trade representatives for Europe and the Asia-Pacific regions, and maybe the regulators in California and a few other states. But we don’t want to hit you with everything at once.”

  “Glad to hear it. When should I plan on working lobbying into my schedule?”

  “Tomorrow,” Mitty interjected.

  “Really? Why? We haven’t even started work on the standard yet.”

  “Because we want the agencies to be supportive and for Congress to be waiting for it when it’s done. Otherwise, they might adopt standards from someone else, or worse yet, write the regulations themselves.”

  “Right,” Roach added. “We’re not the only game in town, and every time there’s a big cybersecurity breach in the news, everybody asks Congress what they’re going to do about it. We need to convince them DCSA is the organization that’s most capable of developing a robust security standard to protect cloud computing data centers. That way when DCSA’
s standard is available, Congress will turn it into a regulation that every data center will have to comply with. If your working group keeps expense containment at the top of the priority list all the time, that will minimize costs for all the cloud services providers, and for their customers, too.”

  “I can see why that would be good for business. But why would Congress want to take something that vendors cooked up and turn it into law?”

  “Because they don’t have a choice.”

  “How so? That sounds too good to be true.”

  “Not so. Back in 1995, Congress passed something called the Technology Transfer and Advancement Act, which put government out of the standards development business. Basically, what it says is that if there’s a private sector standard that can do the job, the government has to use it rather than develop its own standard or regulation for the same purpose.”

  “I never knew that. How did a law like that get passed?”

  “Do you remember the phrase ‘six-hundred-dollar toilet seat’?”

  Patricoff laughed. “No. Should I?”

  “For someone your age, probably not. But back in the 1980s, it came out that the Pentagon was actually paying that much for a crapper seat. And similarly ridiculous amounts for other items—like seven thousand dollars for a coffee pot. Part of the problem was that the Pentagon kept coming up with detailed design requirements for everything it bought—even for chocolate chip cookies, if you can believe that—instead of just buying products that were already on the market. Congress hit the roof, and one of the results was the Technology Transfer and Advancement Act.”

  “That’s pretty sweet. So the vendors get to write the rules for what the government buys from them, rather than the other way around?”

  “When it comes to standards and purchasing requirements, that’s right. The government relies heavily on private sector standards organizations—like DCSA—to write all kinds of health, safety, product, and performance standards, not to mention building codes and a whole lot else.”

  “Including critical infrastructure?”

  “Even for nuclear power plants.”

  “Wow. Is this a great country or what?”

  “Yeah. But don’t get complacent—getting your standard referenced into law isn’t easy. There’s at least a dozen other organizations out there already working on standards for different aspects of cloud computing. Luckily, none of them owns the security area yet, so we’ve still got time to stake out our turf—if we act fast and execute well on the Hill.”

  “So what happens next?” Benno asked.

  “You’ll find that your briefing book lays out our strategy for the next twelve months. It’s set up with milestones that map against known Congressional committee activities—we’ll update that on a regular basis, of course, as legislators introduce new bills. It also has all the talking points you should get down by heart ASAP. I’d suggest you block out a full day a week for the next three weeks to get together with us. That way we can explain why the talking points are what they are and who you’ll be meeting with. We can do some pre-meeting coaching sessions, too.”

  “I guess I can do that; I’m not too booked on other matters yet.”

  “Good, because we’ve got you set up for ten meetings on the Hill over the next month. The first one’s next week.”

  “Next week?”

  “Yes, but don’t worry. The first ones are mostly introductions. As you know, it’s all about establishing relationships in this town. That takes time, so the sooner we get started the better. Here—let me take that.”

  Roach’s last statement was directed to the waiter who had just arrived with the check.

  “Thanks,” Mitty said. “Say, can you stick around for a little while, Paul? There’s a couple other things I’d like to kick around with you.”

  “Sure thing.”

  Patricoff took the cue and said his goodbyes.

  Mitty leaned forward when Patricoff was out of earshot. “So tell me. Do you know anything about a group called the Responsible Technology Foundation?”

  “Some. It’s a small, non-profit advocacy outfit that focuses on technology-related causes. It was started a few years ago by someone straight out of grad school named Sara Ravitz. Not quite a Luddite, but she tends to see horrible risks behind every new advance in technology. The RTF doesn’t have a lot of money, but she gets good attention anyway because her dad’s a former secretary of the treasury. He’s back on Wall Street but stays in touch down here. That’s about it.”

  “Well, I want you to find out a whole lot more. For some reason she’s starting to get a burr under her saddle about physical security for data centers and wants to see regulations passed that would require that data centers be buried at least fifty feet underground. A lot of our competitors have already built super-secure data centers in mine shafts and caverns, and that costs a bundle. There’s no way we can continue to sustain our growth if that approach becomes required. Patricoff’s job is to make sure any regulation that gets adopted will allow us to keep physical security compliance costs to a minimum. And I need you to make sure that Ravitz’s efforts don’t get any traction.”

  “Got it. We’ll get on it right away.”

  * * *

  5

  Rain Date

  The critical infrastructure materials Tim Slattery compiled were more than comprehensive, and Frank had no choice but to stake out a corner of the CIA facility for his grumpy, middle-aged self to wade through them on one of the Agency’s digitally constipated laptops.

  Slattery’s materials were not only extensive but meticulously indexed and digested as well. And when he presented them to Frank, he had seemed unduly nervous. Frank couldn’t figure out why his assistant was being so thorough and conscientious about a task that was rather menial. It didn’t make sense that he should be so eager to please someone who was, after all, simply passing through the department. He probably wouldn’t even be asked to rate his performance when the project was finally complete. Very peculiar.

  Frank finally waded through the last of the materials. To be sure, he’d found some intriguing information he hadn’t known before. But overall, the government reports had simply confirmed his preexisting belief that the country offered a veritable buffet of varied and vulnerable targets. The biggest challenge facing any terrorist would be deciding which ones to hit. That made Frank’s task even tougher. He’d have to put himself inside the head of an extremist from another culture halfway around the world and decide which of the many appealing options available to him he should pick.

  He ruminated on that for a while, making a few adjustments to his ranking of most likely targets gleaned from the federal Critical Infrastructure roster. Then he added several targets of his own, knowing many industries had lobbied hard to keep their businesses off the government list. No surprise there. Nobody wanted to be more regulated than they already were.

  He fooled and fussed over his list for a while before leaning back, satisfied with the result. For the first time on this project, he felt like he’d accomplished something. Then he turned to Slattery’s analysis to see how well Tim had done.

  Half an hour later, he pushed back from his laptop again. But he wasn’t satisfied this time. There was no avoiding the conclusion: the kid with the ethics degree had been more astute than he had. Not that their lists and supporting rationales were all that different. But where they did vary, Slattery’s determinations were usually more solid than his own. That stung. He started scanning his source materials again to see where he’d gone astray.

  That soon became obvious. Each time he’d slipped up it was because he’d disregarded information that failed to fit in with the conclusions he’d already jumped to—the very same thing he’d faulted the CIA for when it decided on Foobar’s probable targets. Slattery had clearly kept a more open mind and ab
sorbed all the information before drawing his conclusions. There was a lesson to be learned there, and Frank didn’t like the way he had learned it.

  * * *

  Home once again, the chirp of his phone announcing the arrival of a text provided a welcome distraction. He glanced at it, stood up, grabbed his jacket, and headed downstairs to meet Marla in the drab lobby.

  “So where do you want to go?” he asked.

  “Want to stick around your neighborhood for a change? We haven’t eaten at Renaldo’s in ages.”

  “Why not?”

  A couple of blocks later, Marla was being hugged and fussed over by the same hostess who’d greeted them at the small family restaurant since Marla was three. “So big! And it’s been so long! You should come back and see me more often!”

  “You’re right. It’s really great to see you.”

  “Look—the same table you always wanted is free.”

  They followed her to a familiar spot by the front window, where a little girl could watch the world go by. The red and white checked tablecloth and candle in a Chianti bottle were just the way she remembered them.

  Frank took his place behind her to hold her chair. “Just like old times.”

  “Yes, that was very cute when I was a little girl. But you really don’t have to do that anymore.”

  “Why not? It’s nice for some things not to change.”

  “Some things, yes.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Well, for starters, instead of just moving out of your apartment while they rehab it, you could leave this dingy neighborhood and buy something nice. You can afford to, you know.”