by L. M. Vila
The S.A.C.’s mind instantly filled with several possible reasons. All of which sounded plausible. This lack of cooperation was beginning to wear in Adrian’s patience. He couldn’t afford this path to be a dead end. It was their only lead at this point. Mark was still working on decoding the information stored on those mass of servers plus cracking this kid’s worm. He’s been working his fingers to the bone for the S.A.C. but even pulling 14 hour days was still not enough to get the results they desired. They needed this kid to start telling them the truth or start providing better evidence to his current story.
“Tell it again. Spare me the techno-jargon,” demanded Adrian.
“I already told you. Some guy contacted me online to do a couple of simple infiltrations. When he trusted my work, that’s when he ordered the worm. Was really specific about it too. Gave me a list of a couple hundred IPs to target.”
“That’s the part that bothers me Mr. Simmons,” the S.A.C. interrupted.
He tried his best to summon the knowledge given to him by Mark in the hopes of sounding at least somewhat intelligent in the matter. One little slip up and the kid’s intimidation would soon wear off.
“When the worm was active in our virtual environment, it only pinged your IP.” Adrian smiled, “How do you think we were able to catch you so easily.”
“Don’t rub it in,” he scoffed. “The original worm was meant to ping all of the IPs on the list they gave me, including mine but not because they asked. This was based off the original home server IP address. They asked me to code it so that if the boxes ever get moved to a new location, the worm wouldn’t be active anymore.”
That was a brilliant move on Logan’s part. Should his system ever be compromised or even caught by authorities, there would be nothing to find on there but static data. Roberto Simmons had no idea his greed would end up costing this man his empire.
“So what was the point of putting in your IP to the worm? Was that at the request of your buyer?”
“Heck no,” the young boy spat. Then his eyes dropped and looked away from the S.A.C. He couldn’t even look him in the eyes when he said, “I knew they had money to spare. So I skimmed a little from the top, you know? Nothing big. Couple of cents on every transaction. They wouldn’t miss anything. They did a couple thousand transactions every hour. With my worm working in their system, I wouldn’t have to keep doing all of this other stuff, you know?”
The kid had a touching sob story. Maybe it would have worked on the rookies or someone with a bit more compassion but after dragging Adrian and Mark through so many hoops over the past 24 hours, their gas tank of caring was empty.
Adrian stopped himself from questioning the boy further. For the first time since this interrogation started, the boy actually provided a nugget of information they could use.
“Mark?” The S.A.C. called after tapping the com button. “Did you catch all that?”
Furious taps of the keyboard could be heard in the background of the analyst’s reply.
“Every word boss.”
“Does any of it help you?”
“Actually,” Mark said stopping his work for a brief moment, “The kid was useful. But not to me.”
“What?” Adrian replied nearly dumbfounded at his subordinate’s claim. “What do you mean?”
The analyst waited to respond. He thought the S.A.C. saw it clearly. If he replied immediately it would have made him look foolish in front of the hacker. Given the way this interrogation has gone, one false step could have ended things completely.
“Because,” Mark said, “If he wasn’t so greedy, we would have never found him.”
The answer given was not as well received as the analyst had hoped. A little levity should have helped ease the tension. Adrian couldn’t have been more annoyed. He still needed this kid to give him something useful.
“What did they want that worm to do?” Asked the S.A.C. as he pinched the bridge of his nose.
The minor headache that had reared its ugly head was soon crossing over into migraine territory.
“The worm I built was designed solely to send small packets of data to specific IPs and return location information back to the server. I later found out it was actually to transfer their money between accounts. Every transaction had fifty to a hundred moves per hour. It seemed stupid to me. I had no idea why they wanted something so simple done but they were very demanding. Every IP had an account number tied to it but that wasn’t written into the worm’s code. Once the IP was pinged from the host server, it would send a message to the local server to initiate the transfer. My code was just a middle man facilitating the transaction.”
All of this techno-babble would normally drive Adrian’s mind into overdrive but the kid had a way of explaining it that made it easy to understand. That much the S.A.C. could appreciate. There was still a hole in the kid’s story. One so glaring even someone as non-computer oriented as Adrian could catch.
“If your worm only pinged the IPs, how were you able to skim money off the top?”
The S.A.C. took a step forward and leaned in close. He could see something hiding through the windows to Roberto’s soul.
“The fact of the matter is, you couldn’t. And that drove you nuts. So instead, you went sneaking around in some place where you didn’t belong. That’s where I think your little hacking endeavor went south. Right?”
Roberto stared off into the distance with his arms furiously crossed over his chest. He was definitely hiding something. Adrian was right on track.
“You want to know what I think? I think your little skimming op was just a cover up. You found something very interesting. Given your inquisitive nature, it’s no surprise you wanted to keep digging. So instead of staying in there systems directly, you had your little worm here act as a relay and decided to mask it as embezzlement to throw people off your scent.”
The S.A.C. pulled back a bit but still stayed painfully close to his interrogation subject.
“Because after what you found, you knew you would be in a shitload of trouble. Didn’t you Roberto?”
Adrian’s fist slammed on the table.
“What was it?!”
“Okay! Okay!” Sobbed the boy.
Tears began to stream down his cheeks.
“I swear, I didn’t know what they were doing. I only took a peek and then I got the hell out of there. I couldn’t alter the worm code after the fact, otherwise they would know I was screwing with them. Please, you have to believe me!”
Adrian’s phone rang. This interruption couldn’t have come at a worse time. His intention was to quickly dismiss. As soon as he checked the caller ID, the S.A.C. turned white and instantly empathized with how Roberto was feeling at this time.
“Director Miller,” he answered trying his best not to sound surprised or flustered.
“Where is Agent Madison, Fischer?” He stated. “It’s been almost three days. I’ve got the Secret Service breathing down my neck about this and the last thing I want is for the organization that I’m in charge of to look so incompetent that we can’t even keep track of our own men!”
That was much harsher than Adrian remembered the Director being previously. Something must have sparked his rage earlier in the day. That or he was that genuinely upset over the matter.
Adrian didn’t want to lie to his superior. In this situation, he had no choice but to be as vague as possible.
“Agent Madison is still on leave. I can confirm that he has received the documents emailed to him and has gone through them thoroughly. He should be well prepared upon arrival.”
“If I wanted to see someone dance around I’d visit my niece in Houston,” the Director snapped. “Where the hell is Agent Madison?!”
There was nothing left to say in his defense. Only the truth remained.
“I don’t know.”
“We’re not going through that fiasco again,” the Director sounded desperate. “Has he contacted you? Who know something about his whereabouts?”
<
br /> “Assistant Director Wells may have an idea.”
The phone went silent on the other end. Given the current state of Nicole’s health, it was a touchy subject to bring up. Thankfully, it was one the Director didn’t want to dive into either.
“I want Agent Madison here by midnight Saturday or else we’re going to reclassify his status as AWOL and take immediate disciplinary action as soon as he arrives. Is that understood?”
“Yes sir,” the S.A.C. meekly replied.
The Director hung up on his end. Adrian was left standing with his thoughts. Michael had officially run out of options. There was nothing Adrian could do to save him now. Not that he wanted to anyways. Michael was the one that broke protocol here. He just better have a damn good reason for doing so. Without anyone left on the Most Wanted list worth hunting, Adrian didn’t have a clue as to why Agent Madison would disappear.
Thankfully there were still more pressing matters to deal with. Roberto had finally cracked. Now they were getting somewhere. Adrian pressed the issue further.
“I can’t help you unless you tell me everything. What did you find?”
Roberto tried to push back the tears. Anything that would bring this supposed tough guy to tears must have been something bad. Not even twenty-five years to life bad. Death bad.
“Whenever I hack a server, I take a piece of something with me as proof. I do it so much it’s become instinct. I didn’t mean to take this piece. So I stashed it on their servers after I took off. In a place they wouldn’t normally look, where they keep the rest of their system files. Then I used to worm to keep tabs on them in case they came looking for me later.”
“What was it?” Adrian pushed. “What the hell did you find that’s got you this scared?”
“It’s on sever box thirteen. The data is labeled ICBC,” the young boy sobbed.
“Mark!” Called Adrian.
“Already on it boss,” Mark said furiously tapping away at his work station. His fingers could have broken the sound barrier if they worked any quicker.
They soon stopped to a dead halt. The analyst stuttered back into the microphone.
“Holy shit…”
“What? What is it?!” Adrian shouted.
“You’re going to want to come here and see this,” he started, “And then book a flight to Vegas. Logan’s got some explaining to do.”
March 27th, 2013 2:18PM
Kyoto, Japan
The first day of searching was not one to remember. Michael and his plucky young Paladin companion had searched the streets of Kyoto in some of its seediest areas and found nothing for their efforts. After staying up until nine in the morning, the FBI agent was compelled to give up and begin anew a few hours later. Michael refused to sleep. Whatever that little gang member was trying to peddle was located within these city limits. Or it damn well better be if he valued his life.
Today’s search was slower as it was the day before. Michael had exhausted nearly all of the resources given to him from gathered information and generic word of mouth. It would be much easier to find stains on a preacher’s sheets than it would be this phantom drug called Longini.
Michael and Davis stood outside of an empty street watching the occasional citizens pass by. At this time of day, even someone in Davis’ ridiculous get up wouldn’t be questioned since everyone was still at work. The specific place they were staking out wasn’t near any major Korean populations. However, Michael continually noticed a few key players heading in this direction at the oddest times of night. Whether they were gang affiliated or just drunken losers, this was too unique to be a coincidence.
A short vibration tickled the FBI agent’s pocket. The caller ID blared his superior’s name in the secluded ally. Michael turned away from his stakeout and answered it when he was out of sight.
“Commander,” he answered.
“Michael,” Nicole answered.
Her tone was a little sharper much like her normal self.
“I have some new information for you. Is it safe to talk?”
“Go ahead.”
“Info on Ryoo Myung-Dae is sparse at best. What I had collected previously was mostly everything we had.”
Michael didn’t like the sound of that. He was running out of time chasing these unconfirmed leads. This would further complicate matters. Luckily the Assistant Director wasn’t finished.
“This lack of information got me curious so on a hunch I searched through some of our friends’ databases. Turns out Ryoo Myung-Dae is a defector from North Korea.”
It all made sense. The local intelligence on North Korean activity is slim to none. The U.S. government was only concerned with their military developments and strategy. Michael’s brow tightened as Nicole continued.
“He used to be a part of the People’s Army but never received any promotions during that time. But he was posthumously promoted to Sergeant after he was killed in action.’
“What?”
“North Korea had reported him KIA on the very first week of attacks. They must have shipped him to Taiwan to lay low. That’s where he acquired his gifts and was soon scouted and employed by Charles Logan.”
“Is that all?” Michael asked.
Though the info of Ryoo’s ties to North Korea was useful information, it didn’t necessarily help him here.
“No, there’s more. Ryoo Myung-Dae had an older brother who also apparently died in battle on the same day. His name was Ryoo Myung-Ho but he had a much more decorated background than his younger sibling. Chinese trained, expert marksmen, and national hero.”
Jiro mentioned there being two soldiers that trained with them. The picture was starting to become clear.
“Though his status is currently KIA as well, it might be safe to assume that our soldiers were able to make it official on that one. There were no signs or evidence that Ryoo Myung-Dae affiliated with anyone while in Taiwan. He was operating solo. But I do know he frequented a bar that was known to house some members of the Shining Dagger gang.”
That name sounded familiar. Thought Michael wasn’t well versed in current Asian gang culture, there were many symbols and key phrases that certain gangs used to incite fear into their enemies. He didn’t find any similarly designed tattoos on the scrawny punk he interrogated a few days ago but at least now he had something solid to search for.
“It may be a small lead but that’s all I’ve got for now. Please do what you can Michael.”
“Understood Commander.”
Nicole stayed silent on the other end. She didn’t hang up. This drew more curiosity from her subordinate.
“Michael?” She started.
Her tone was much softer and weaker than before. Certainly not like her usual self. The FBI agent was pondering about that for the last couple of days but the mission took precedence above all else.
“Yes Nicole,” he replied trying his best to match her tone and sound sympathetic.
She remained quiet on the other end for some time.
“No. It’s nothing.” Nicole was starting to sound like her usual self. “We’ll talk once you get back to HQ.”
Michael took a moment to think before responding.
“Understood,” were the only words in his arsenal that could comfort her now.
The line went silent. She finally had the courage to hang up. Michael placed the phone back in his jacket pocket and turned his attention back at the bar. He couldn’t let his mind wander or be distracted now. The link between Ryoo Myung-Dae and his supplier could be sitting in that very bar. There was no use wasting any time out here.
Michael began taking a brisk pace for the door. If Davis had been looking elsewhere, he would have missed it completely. The FBI agent quickened his steps. He took notes of all of the surrounding areas and features just in case one of the goons inside decided to run. The space in this area was wide but Michael was able to make out more than enough details should it come to that.
The FBI agent smashed his foot into the door and
vaulted the wooden structure straight into the bar. Hinges shattered and sent bits of metal and bolts flying into the dank and stuffy air. A sole pool table sat underneath a dim single-bulb lamp with a pair of shirtless players staring back at Michael in disgust. Their tattered pants and worn shoes seemed to compliment the copious amount of tattoos covering every inch of their exposed skin. Light trails of smoke traveled upwards and filled the top layer of the building in a thick layer of fog. Two more similarly styled individuals stood pressed against the wall next to another closed door with lit cigarettes dangling on their lips. Every one of them had their heads shaved; another sign of unity among gangs.
American southern rock music blared in the background. The bar was all the way in the back wall with only a handful of choice liquor bottles. The bartender was nowhere in sight. That was usually the sign of a gang hide-out masked as a bar to get government employees off of their case.
The initial scan of this place hinted at all of the right signs. The denizens did not appear to like the FBI agent’s choice of entrance. Michael gave each of them a deep look and searched for any specific gang symbols that symbolize the information he’d received from Nicole. Most of their tattoos were of the standard flair. Raging animals, tough text, and images depicting death all seemed to find their place on their bodies. Michael had a hunch about this place. He would not let up this investigation without a proper search.
“Who the hell are you?” One of the pool players shouted in Korean.
He stood up with cue still in hand and bounced it gently off his shoulder. This casual display of intimidation may have worked on the locals but Michael was far from impressed.
As the man drew closer Michael noticed a few finer details in the man’s features. Specifically one he had hoped to find. On his neck was a small but distinct image of a golden knife pointing up towards the back of his ear. That was a very peculiar choice for that type of tattoo. It made total sense to those who had a complete understanding of the human anatomy. There is a small section of skin right over the part of the head where the jaw meets the skull. If someone were to take a small needle and strike that area, it would lead directly to the brain and would more than likely kill the person instantly depending on the length of the blade. That was all Michael needed to see to confirm he’d found the right place.
