by Bobby Akart
But she did call Katie immediately.
“Katie, I’m watching someone remotely access my laptop as we speak. They are opening folders, moving icons and now they have uploaded an image to my desktop screen. It’s a donkey fucking an elephant!”
After the two shared some nervous laughter, Katie advised Abbie to leave her computer alone. Steven was in town for the weekend and they would both be over shortly. Reassured, Abbie hung up and let her secret service team know to expect visitors. She invited Drew inside.
Since her father had assigned Drew to her personal security detail two months ago, they became friends and he became her confidant. At this level of politics, Abbie knew trustworthiness and confidentiality were in short supply. She could always count on her friends within the Loyal Nine, but it was nice to have someone like Drew as a constant companion.
“Is everything all right, Senator?” asked Drew, still in earshot of the assigned secret service team. He and Abbie were well beyond such formalities.
“Please come in. I need to discuss something with you.” Not just because of Steven’s recommendation, but based upon her own observations, Abbie knew she could trust Drew Jackson with her intimate secrets—and her life. She closed the door behind him.
“Am I a vision of loveliness or what?”
Drew laughed at Abbie’s self-deprecation. “You don’t think I’d love to throw on a pair of shorts and a Vols T-shirt?”
Abbie immediately contemplated allowing Drew to keep some clothes in a drawer. Whoa, Nellie! “Trust me, I know wearing a suit all day and night is grueling.”
“Appearances are important. When we campaign down South, maybe I can loosen up on the collar.”
“I’ll insist upon it. Drew, I have a problem. I’ve called Steven and my friend Katie over to take a look. This has to be kept quiet, okay.”
Drew immediately searched around the townhouse, looking for threats. Out of habit, he placed his hand on his sidearm. Abbie noticed his heightened awareness.
“No, nothing dangerous. My computer has been hacked.”
“Shouldn’t we call the FBI?”
“I don’t know who is behind this, and I only trust Katie and her team to find out. This could be our government or a foreign nation. This could be political espionage from the GOP. Hell, it could have come from the Democrat side. Who knows?”
“I understand. Trust no one. Is there anything on there that’s embarrassing?”
“Embarrassing? Like what?”
“You know. Embarrassing, like photos or videos.”
“You mean sex tapes?”
Drew blushed. “No. Well, I was making sure…” Drew’s voice trailed off.
Abbie would let him off the hook. Using her best Gone with the Wind Southern belle voice, she said, “Why, Mr. Jackson, how dare you impugn my character. I am a proper lady and would never consider videotaping my romp in the hay with my beau.”
She teasingly led him by the arm to the sofa, where they stared at her laptop with the continuously moving gif of the copulating donkey and elephant.
“Does this do anything for you?” she asked.
“Reminds me of stump trainin’.”
“What’s stump training, Drew?”
“Really? You’ve never heard of stump trainin’?”
“No.”
“Well, down on the farm, it’s when a guy stands on a stump and backs a large farm animal up to him so he can…”
“STOP! I get the visual!”
“It’s really common in some parts. Here’s what they do…”
Abbie’s intercom system announced the arrival of Katie and Steven while saving Abbie from the detailed explanation of stump training.
“Thank God,” said Abbie. She stood and threw a pillow at Drew. “You, sir, are no gentleman, speaking to a proper lady in such a manner.” Abbie adjusted her sweatpants as she met her guests at the door.
“Hi, guys.”
“Abbie, are you okay?” asked Katie.
“Pretty nice digs, Abbie,” said Steven.
“Thanks. Katie, I was doing fine until this brutish friend of Steven’s forgot his manners.”
Steven and Drew gave each other a bro hug. “Are you taking good care of the next Vice President of the United States?”
“I guess. Sometimes I wonder if I should rejoin your unit.”
“Hey!” objected Abbie.
“Just kiddin’. Look at this, buddy.” Drew pointed to the constantly moving image on the laptop.
“Nice,” said Steven. “Shouldn’t it be the other way around?”
“Abbie, has this been in your possession the whole time?” asked Katie.
“Yes.”
“Even while in Philly?”
“Yes.”
“You’ve probably been hacked from a remote source,” said Katie. “We’ll have to analyze it to determine if they left a passive digital footprint.”
“What does that mean?” asked Abbie.
“A digital footprint is the data left behind by users of the Internet,” explained Katie. “Active digital footprints are created when personal data is released deliberately by a user for the purpose of sharing information, like on Facebook or in chatrooms.”
“What about passive?” asked Drew.
“A passive digital footprint is a little more complicated,” Katie replied. “It is created when data is collected at the moment the owner downloads or uploads data. I will have my people take a look.”
“Okay.”
“Have you touched anything?”
“No. Katie, we have to keep this quiet. I want to find out who is behind this before they can cover it up.”
“Tomorrow is Sunday. I’ll call in my most trusted assistants. We’ll get to the bottom of it, Abbie, I promise.”
Abbie gave Katie a hug. Two days into her VP nomination and someone was rifling through her laptop. This sucks.
PART FOUR
Chapter 40
August 1, 2016
27 O Street SW
Washington, D.C.
It was 3:00 a.m. when Katie entered her rented townhome and found Steven asleep on the couch. He immediately woke up and gave her a hug. She felt his morning wake-up call.
“Either you were dreaming about me or watching porn when you fell asleep,” she said, playfully pushing him away.
“I was dreaming about us—making a movie.”
“Forget it! After what Abbie went through, you’ll never film us having sex!”
“Okay, forget the filming part,” Steven said as he reached to pull her back.
“Can I put my briefcase down first?”
“Sure, let me help you with that.”
Katie squirmed out of his grasp. “Listen, horn dog, this is important. I’ve got something.”
Steven, looking like a little boy who just had his G.I Joe taken away, let her go.
She walked through the open floor plan to the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of Evian. She’d been awake for nearly twenty-four hours. In just five hours, she was expected in the Situation Room for the daily briefing. She’d feel and look like death warmed over.
“I have to get a few hours’ sleep before work, but let me tell you what I know. Come to bed and we’ll talk.” Katie led Steven to the bedroom, leaving a trail of shoes and various forms of apparel. Once in bed she kissed him and relayed her findings.
“I need to explain this to you and then I need you to set up a meeting as soon as possible with Mr. Morgan, okay?” she asked.
“Yes, but how bad is it?”
“I think I know the who, but I am unclear as to the why?” replied Katie. “You’ve read about the hacktivist group called the Zero Day Gamers. They took responsibility for the Callaway Nuclear Plant attack and the hijacking of the American Airlines flight back in May.”
“Weren’t they also suspected in the Vegas Casino deal when Sarge and Julia were in town?” asked Steven.
“Yes. They’re ghosts. No agency has been able to pin down t
heir location or their intentions. So far, their activity has been referred to by the President as cyber vandalism. But I have noticed their cyber attacks have escalated and become more sophisticated.” Katie exhaled and relaxed as she was finally able to let her two worlds meet. Steven caressed her face and put her more at ease. She really liked him and was amazed at how caring and loving he could be considering his occupation—and boyish ways.
“Do they have something to do with Abbie’s computer?” asked Steven.
“I think so, but this is what is confusing about the whole situation.” Katie rolled over on her back and stared upward. After catching her breath, she continued.
“The Zero Day Gamers, as they call themselves, are very talented and, so far, remain stealth. The hack of Abbie’s laptop used malware designed in such a way to avoid being flagged by any of the mainstream antivirus products. This particular RAT malware used numerous reverse connect-back mechanisms that provided remote access.”
“Isn’t that typical of what the Chinese use to steal financial data from someone’s computer?”
“Yes, but this was different. The hacker used three different connect-back mechanisms built in to improve the likelihood of establishing the command and control channel necessary to access Abbie’s computer. In addition, the malware was also packed to help avoid detection at rest.”
“What does packed mean?”
“At some point, Abbie must have interacted with an email containing the remote access Trojan malware. In the process, she probably received an innocuous-looking message box which displayed an error or some type of prompt. This inserted the malware into her computer system while encrypting the data to avoid detection. Very sophisticated.”
“Espionage?” asked Steven.
Katie sat up and propped herself against the headboard. She took another sip of Evian. She contemplated a glass of wine to relax but was too tired to get it. Katie continued.
“That was my first thought. The detail associated with this malware delivery screamed Chinese or Russian government spy agencies. Then I found the hacker’s error.”
“What was it?”
“The key to successfully hiding your identity when undertaking a hack is to make sure you pass through enough interim sites—proxy servers—to conceal your point of origin permanently.”
“Makes sense.”
“Hackers go through these extraordinary efforts, but this time a mistake was made. We were only successful because Abbie contacted us immediately and the hacker didn’t cover his tracks.”
“What did you find?”
“We searched Google and found the animated gif uploaded to Abbie’s computer. It was created on a community weblog called MetaFilter by a user named ZDG. We analyzed the MetaFilter weblogs and found the IP address of ZDG. I immediately performed a back trace on this IP address and found it still connected to Abbie’s computer. Apparently, the hacker failed to terminate his remote access program. Stupid mistake.”
“The two computers were still talking to each other?”
“They were.”
“Did you find a physical location for the IP address?”
“Yeah. Each IP source tool uses a different geolocation database and tries to find the Internet router that’s closest to the target IP. The accuracy of the result depends on the database used and the number of known routers in the target IP area. I pinned it down to within a two-mile radius—in Cambridge.”
“Our Cambridge or England?”
“The Cambridge in Boston, right in the heart of MIT.”
“Fuck me.”
Katie swatted him even though she knew it was Steven’s favorite figure of speech.
“Then I had a hunch.”
“What was it?”
“I went to two prominent hacker websites—hackers for hire and hackers list. I cross-referenced the IP address, Cambridge, MIT and ISP records for Internet service providers in the area with the metadata found on the hacker websites. I’ve isolated the IP user’s physical address to the Lofts at Kendall Square on East Binney Street. Ironically, the building is located next to a white hacker group known as Hack/Reduce.”
“Do you think they’re related?”
“I hope not. They were founded by a friend of mine.”
“So what’s the next step?”
“I need to inform Mr. Morgan. He’s wanted me to locate the Zero Day Gamers for months. I’ll need you to set up the meeting right away, okay?”
“Yes, ma’am. Anything else, ma’am?”
“Well, I am still a little wound up. Please help me fall asleep, sir.” She pulled his head toward her as she closed her eyes.
“With pleasure, ma’am.”
Chapter 41
August 3, 2016
1st Battalion, 25th Marines HQ
Fort Devens, Massachusetts
“That was an excellent presentation, General Drier,” said Brad as he offered the commander of the 4th Marine Division a seat in his office. “May I offer you something to drink? I have my own stash.”
Major General Paul Drier was a highly decorated combat vet who received a silver star and a legion of merit for his service. His duty assignments, before being given command of the 4th Marines, included the Pentagon, where he acted as the commandant for Plans, Policies and Operations. P, P & O is instrumental in organizing the military training exercises known as Jade Helm.
“Thank you, Brad, I will. Further, please call me Paul. You and I have a lot to discuss beyond the formality of rank.”
Brad handed him a glass of whiskey and settled in his chair. This should be interesting. “Cheers.”
“Brad, I’ll cut to the chase,” started General Drier. “Jade Helm has been on the drawing board for some time and was intended to resemble past realistic military training exercises like Bold Alligator and Robin Sage. These two exercises were barely noticed in the media or by the public. Jade Helm is different.” Drier took a sip of whiskey.
“Special Operations Command made a critical mistake last year by releasing the hypothetical map of the exercise, which identified Southern California, Utah, and Texas as hostile. These regions are typically considered politically conservative. The remainder of California, Colorado and Nevada—all leaning liberal—were identified as permissive. Doubling down on that map and increasing the exercise to include the Southeastern states has the conspiracy theorists stirred up, which is why P, P & O sent me on this dog and pony show around the country.”
“I understand, sir,” said Brad. “This year, when Special Operations Command tripled the military presence in both personnel and equipment, citizens grew concerned. On the surface, it appears our country is being conditioned for the appearance of the military in our streets. Social unrest in our major cities is being met with a military response, in addition to local law enforcement.” The Jade Helm activities screamed martial law in Brad’s mind.
“It started with the mishandling of the Ferguson, Missouri, riots two years ago,” said General Drier. “Law enforcement was ordered to stand down and not intervene as the unrest escalated out of control. Finally, the National Guard was called in, giving the appearance of a military clamp down. The same thing happened in Baltimore.”
Brad spent a considerable amount of time studying the government’s reactions to civil unrest. “A few decades ago, the thought of martial law in America was absolutely unthinkable, but today the increased intensity of societal unrest is causing a number of citizens to embrace the idea of troops patrolling our cities. It makes them feel safe.”
“Brad, there are some Executive Orders being signed in the coming days that should concern all of us. The President will use the EPA to limit the lead content in the manufacture of ammunition. He has instructed several agencies to purchase all available supplies of ammo for training purposes. He is also issuing regulations through the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco and Firearms to limit the magazine capacities of long rifles to ten and pistols to seven, effective immediately. All magazines in capaci
ties larger than ten and seven are deemed unsafe under Department of Health and Human Services guidelines and subject to confiscation. Finally, he is announcing a mandatory gun registration law, which will be a condition of receiving any federal government benefits or contracts. Failure to register all of your weapons will result in criminal and civil penalties—including civil forfeiture.”
“You mean they will confiscate your guns if you don’t register?” asked Brad.
“Yes, and also the real estate where the weapons were located, under civil forfeiture,” replied General Drier.
“Damn.”
“It gets better. In the past, the National Guard acted as a military support tool to the governors in the event of natural disaster or extraordinary social unrest. As you know, this is happening with regularity. The President, relying on an opinion from the U.S. Attorney General, is declaring the Posse Comitatus Act as inapplicable in the event of foreign hostilities against the United States. He plans on using all branches of the military to restore order on the streets if a catastrophic event occurs.”
The Posse Comitatus Act was a federal law limiting the power of the federal government in using the military as domestic law enforcement. The act specifically applied to the Army and Air Force, but the Navy adopted the provisions via regulations. Posse Comitatus did not apply to the National Guard or the Coast Guard. That’s why they send a team to Camp Edwards.
“What type of catastrophic event?” asked Brad.
“It will be up to the President’s discretion. I believe this is the first step towards the implementation of martial law if deemed necessary.”
