The Sixth Day

by Catherine Coulter

  Nicholas watched Ardelean work. He was fast, smooth, but why had he lied about the Russian hacker? Another thing, he was too smooth, too deferential to Nicholas’s father. Nicholas’s personal experience with brilliant business moguls was the opposite—he would have trusted Ardelean more if he’d acted like a conceited ass.

  Granted, losing the Security Services would be a massive blow to the proprietary software development Radulov was contracted for, because if he lost one government agency, he’d lose them all. And variations of MATRIX and other Radulov software were on practically every government computer in the free world. He couldn’t afford the blow to his company. Given that, maybe Nicholas would be as apologetic as Ardelean. What was going on here? There was something more.

  Still, the Radulov reputation was stellar. Ten years of high-end security, tight as a drum, unbreakable. The world had turned to Radulov when Kaspersky and Norton failed them.

  Until last month, when so many of the computers using the software were hacked. Strange, the attacks on the politicians had begun so soon after.

  Mike had checked out entirely. For some reason, she was staring at her phone as if it held the Rosetta stone. But his father was watching Ardelean closely, too, which made him even more curious.

  They met eyes, and Harry shrugged. What had his father seen?

  A moment later, Ardelean was rebooting the machine when a knock sounded on the door and Adam came in. Nicholas knew it wouldn’t do to laugh, but he looked like he’d rolled around on the floor and stuck his hand in a socket—his hair was standing on end, his clothes were rumpled, and there was a big coffee stain right in the middle of his Star Wars T-shirt. Nicholas knew by the manic smile Adam had made a breakthrough.

  “Can I interrupt? I’ve discovered a back door into the software you need to see.”

  Ardelean’s head came up in a snap.

  Nicholas said, “Roman Ardelean, meet Adam Pearce. He’s a consultant on our team.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  Adam could only stare, starstruck, at one of the best computer minds of the century, but he quickly recovered. “I’m a big admirer of your work, Mr. Ardelean.” He held out his hand. “I’m Adam Pearce.”

  “A pleasure to meet you.”

  “No offense, but someone’s making a mess of your code right now. Look.”

  He set his laptop on Harry’s desk, and Nicholas and Roman leaned in to see.

  Harry Drummond watched for a moment, but Nicholas and Adam and Ardelean were off into a parallel universe, one he didn’t understand and couldn’t easily follow. He marveled at his son’s incredible skill, not inherited from either him or his mother. Or his grandfather. And Adam, the young man was a phenom, a word Mitzie liked to use.

  Nicholas pointed a finger at the nonsense on the screen and said, “There. There it is,” and Ardelean sucked in his breath in surprise. “Bugger me, you’re right.” He straightened. “I don’t understand how this door was opened. I coded this to allow my people to be able to slip into our systems and push code out. Internally. Only from inside Radulov. No one from the outside could have possibly gotten in. It’s a one-way pipe—”

  “No offense, Mr. Ardelean, but it’s a two-way pipe now,” Adam said, “and they did get in, big-time. Look at this. I created an animation of the bug flowing through the systems from the Radulov servers to the infected computers, and this is what I found. It’s a small hole, sir, but it’s a hole. That’s how the software was taken advantage of, and how they can defeat it again.”

  Nicholas saw the screen light up with what looked like a moving bar chart, knew it must be the paths the data packets had followed.

  Mike set down her phone and said, “Adam, can you explain it in lay terms?”

  “Sure. Essentially, with this capability, whoever is behind this can spy on every computer that houses Radulov’s software and MATRIX. They can do keystroke analysis on any computer that runs the software—which is pretty much every computer out there—so they can follow every text, every file, every email.

  “Here’s the kicker: not only is it on the computers themselves, it’s also tied into any device that shares the systems’ Wi-Fi network. So, for example, when we come into these offices, we’re given a Wi-Fi password to log into the systems, one that’s secure and encrypted and only given to outsiders, not used in-house. When our phones attach to the network, the bad code downloads onto it through the connection. Then they have keystroke and audio on those phones, too.”

  Harry said, “Governments have this capability, too, though, yes?”

  “Sure. On our end, the NSA and FBI can do this with ease, though we aren’t supposed to. To use any of it to prosecute criminals, we have to work directly with Apple or Microsoft—or Radulov—to get warrants for the information that’s been traced if they want to use it legally. We have to trust they will not use the information they obtain against us without due process.

  “But Radulov’s vulnerability is now available to any hacker who wants it if they’re given the appropriate code through the dark web. Sorry, Mr. Ardelean. I hate to say it, but you’re screwed. You’re going to need a complete overhaul of MATRIX and your other software packages to make them safe again, then you’ll need to convince everyone who owns the software to upgrade to the newest version. Vulnerabilities could float around for years on old computers. This is a mega leak, sir.”

  Ardelean was shaking his head. He looked incredulous. “But we found the hacker, and he’s been arrested. We pushed code in to halt the attack. We contained it.”

  “You did, absolutely, and your block of the manipulated code was handled perfectly. Exactly what I would have recommended, step by step. The problem is, you were too late. The code is still out there. I saw it—”

  Nicholas shook his head, and Adam stopped talking immediately. No need to let Ardelean—or his father, for that matter—know the details of how he and Adam worked on these projects, that Covert Eyes had a hacker in place to do such things. Adam and Nicholas thrived on manipulating the vulnerabilities of software programs. Yes, better to keep those facts off the table.

  Nicholas said, “Mr. Ardelean, do you have any disgruntled former employees who might want to take you down, who might want to see your company suffer, or who might be trying to ransom your code?”

  Yes, that traitor, Temora. Ardelean rubbed the bridge of his nose, effectively hiding his eyes. He wanted a microdose. No, no, he had to keep it together. He wasn’t about to tell them about Temora. He looked up again, in control. “We have very little turnover. My people are under the strictest confidentiality agreements, of course, and can be prosecuted for any breach of those contracts.

  “I will compile a list of our terminated employees for you to start investigating. I assume, Drummond, that you and Agent Caine are starting an investigation into this, which is why you’re here in London?”

  Nicholas nodded. “A breach of this magnitude needs several sets of eyes. A list of your former employees would be a great help. I’d say you need to look back at least three years.”

  “Of course.” Ardelean was still staring at the code. He couldn’t wait. He pulled a small box from his pocket and slipped a mint into his mouth, but it wasn’t a mint, it was a microdose. Almost immediately he felt it focus him. He nodded to all of them.

  “I must go, immediately. I need to deal with this.” He stopped, shook Adam’s hand. “Thank you for finding this.” And to Harry, “Sir, I will do everything in my power to make your servers safe again, as quickly as possible. I have another patch that should hold them off while we work on a permanent solution. I’ll put it into the terminal myself the minute I get back to the office. Give me an hour before you reboot the machines in the office.”

  Harry asked, “And it will fix things for how long?”

  “It should last indefinitely, though there will be more to come.” Ardelean laughed and ran a hand through his hair. “I thought the update I put in was the permanent fix, until now. Mr. Pearce, I am dead
serious. If you ever decide you want a job, please don’t hesitate to call. I’ll pay you triple what you’re making now.”

  Adam grinned. “You hear that, Nicholas? I want a raise.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  Once Mike was sure Ardelean was out of hearing, she said, “The minute the three of you landed your starship on computer-land, you lost me, so I went ahead and put all the data on these drone assassinations into ViCAP, to see if there is anything similar in our jurisdiction.”

  Harry shut the door and said as he turned back to them, “You weren’t alone, Michaela. I too got lost in, what did you call it? Computer-land. Well, that went well. At least we can be assured the systems are safe now, and we can start communicating properly again. I hate cloak-and-dagger stuff, gives me a headache. How long will it take to hear from your ViCAP?”

  Nicholas said, “Not long. I was glad to see Ardelean take responsibility, though I’m convinced he lied about a Russian hacker—when in doubt, blame someone who isn’t there I guess was his thinking.” He gestured toward his father’s desk. “May I? I’d like to see the details of the patch he installed.”

  “Certainly. Be my guest. What are you looking for?”

  He glanced at Adam. “You want to tell him?”

  Adam nodded. “I told Nicholas right before the meeting there was something strange about MATRIX. When I was looking at the tracking code, it felt wrong, like it was written in the same language as Radulov’s software.”

  “So,” Nicholas said, “I’m assuming Ardelean has someone on the inside determined to bring him down. Disgruntled, former, who knows. Regardless, I have a tracker in the system that will look at the patch he provided, to be sure it’s totally clean. No sense reinfecting all the terminals if the code’s not perfect.”

  Harry waved to his computer. “Take a look.”

  Nicholas inserted a thumb drive into his father’s terminal, booted up. Adam came to stand behind him. The program launched, and the two men watched the screen.

  Nicholas said, “This patch is complex. I’ve never seen anything like it. Wait, how can this be possible? The numbers four-zero-eight keep cropping up. Is it the hack, Adam?”

  Adam tapped a few keys, and the numbers showed very clearly now, repeating over and over inside the zeroes and ones.

  Nicholas sat back. “We know Roman Ardelean’s a genius, and that’s why his software is normally impenetrable. It’s not based on normal code, but something new, and I’ll bet majorly proprietary. This new protocol would be worth billions on the dark web, given what it can do.”

  Harry said, “And someone in Ardelean’s company knows about this?”

  Adam nodded. “They have to know some of it, definitely. But the bigger problem is, the code still allows for keystroke analysis, which technically means Radulov software can still spy on any computer using it.”

  Mike asked, “Doesn’t Ardelean have to know? He just installed the patch himself.”

  Nicholas looked thoughtful. “It’s possible, I suppose, that he doesn’t know. He certainly seemed shocked. And angry.” He leaned back in his dad’s chair. As he did, his knee clipped the underside of the computer keyboard drawer. The wood slid out and bashed him in the thigh.

  “Bloody—what’s this?” He broke off. He saw a tiny black dot on his pants leg.

  Adam said, “What’s—” But Nicholas sliced a hand across his throat, then grabbed a notepad and wrote a single word.

  BUG!

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  Once your bird tames down some, you can try putting it on a screen or pole perch unhooded for brief periods. Don’t leave it unsupervised during this time. Give it a chance to regain the perch on its own before intervening. Most figure it out fairly quick.

  —American Falconry Magazine

  The moment Roman was out of London proper, he rang Radu, his first words, “FBI agent Drummond obviously wasn’t killed by the drone. I just spent the better part of an hour with the bastard. What happened, Radu?”

  “I sent the second drone after Drummond, as you wanted, but the drone ran out of battery early. I don’t know what happened.”

  Roman felt the rage begin to pound in his head, louder and louder. He thumbed a microdose, calmed. “Our drones eliminated Donovan, Hemmler, and Alexander. But not Drummond, and this was your second try. Why are these people so hard to kill?”

  Roman could see Radu shrugging. “They know about the drones, they are on the lookout since the attack on them yesterday. I didn’t want another Aire Drone to get into their hands, so I had Lauderdale intercept.”

  “Well done. Is it possible Lauderdale was seen?”

  “The FBI agents gave chase when the drone left the scene. As I said, its battery was running low, so it was slow enough to follow, which was why I sent in Lauderdale.”

  Roman heard Radu draw a deep breath, then he spit it out. “Yes, I’m afraid they saw the capture. They saw Lauderdale fly away with the drone. Both are safe here now.”

  Roman was calmer now, the pounding in his head lessened. “Good. They don’t know anything more than they did. Now, have you heard of a young American hacker, Adam Pearce?”

  “No. Why?”

  “I saw him in action today, along with Drummond. They know about the break in the code that allows us to spy on government agencies.”

  “What are we going to do? How long do you think it will take them to trace the source of the code back to me and not that stupid Russian hacker you made up?”

  Roman was quiet, his brain examining all the problems he was facing.

  Radu said, after a moment, “What if they discover your drone army, the plan with Barstow? Roman, I’m frightened. Tell me what to do.”

  He was his brother’s keeper. He felt calm flow over him, through him. “Radu, the most important thing is to take the lost pages of the Voynich and the woman so you can be cured. All the rest of it? Do not worry about it. I will take care of it.” But all he could think about was the quire, page 74, the woman who was Romanian. And he asked, “Dr. Marin, what do you know of her?”

  Radu told him what he already knew, then added, “She did have a twin, who died at the age of four. No cause of death given.”

  “Ah, so it makes some sense why she can read the Voynich.”

  “Yes, it does.”

  He felt victory close, within his reach. His heart sped up. A search of a lifetime, if only— He slipped another microdose in his mouth. He needed to think, needed the calm it brought him. The drug hit his system, and a low, warm hum started through him. He took a deep breath, then another. He rang off and immediately called Raphael in Scotland. “You will begin work immediately on a new patch.” He dictated a statement to be released to the press, then another longer blog post to the Radulov website, explaining each step of the situation and the remedies they were providing.

  Raphael took the notes silently, then asked, “Should we open a bug bounty to the outside community, sir? Offer five thousand pounds?”

  “And have every hacker in the free world attacking our software? No. But you can say we’re hiring new software engineers to specifically work on this issue.”

  “I’ll get HR on it, sir. I will say, we’ve been receiving a great deal of external activity, mostly routing through the United States and Britain. The U.K. and U.S. governments are probably looking at us, trying to see if we’re secure.”

  “They’d be idiots not to. Add a note to the press release that we are cooperating fully with the U.S. and U.K. investigations into our breach, and rest assured the software is safe to use once the update is installed, blah, blah blah.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Now, you handled our other little issue, yes?”

  “Yes. Everything is secure and safe, loaded on the ship, waiting for your word.”

  “Excellent. Good work, Raphael. If you keep this up, I won’t even hold Temora’s breach against you. Get the press release out as soon as possible, and upload the blog ten minutes after the relea
se is public. Oh yes, send that prick Nicholas Drummond a list of our recently terminated employees. He thinks the breach is coming from the inside, and it will keep them busy. Go ahead and put Temora’s name on the list, maybe they can catch him.”

  “But—”

  He hung up. It was odd. Part of him was fully aware he should be very worried indeed that the company he’d spent years to build might collapse. But another part, the greater part, was consumed with the pages from the Voynich and finding the cure for Radu.

  If only Drummond had died like he was supposed to. And that made him think about his escape plan. He had a plane ever on standby. Take Radu and the cast to the small island in the South Pacific he’d prepared for just this occasion. Stage his death—he planned to drown off the coast of Scotland, everyone would assume he killed himself after his company’s implosion—and make his way to his family.

  Simple, straightforward. He hoped he wouldn’t have to, at least not yet. Moving Radu would be difficult at best, and Roman wanted to find a cure before he had to do so.

  His mobile rang. It was Barstow. Roman listened, and then he hung up, without saying a word.

  From one minute to the next, it seemed everything was unraveling, and none of it was his fault. He remembered the Money’s enthusiasm, their optimism, their commitment to Project Cabal seven months before, after his demonstration in the Nubian Desert. What had happened? And there was Temora, thumbing his nose at him, destroying Radulov, and the Voynich, always the Voynich, and Dr. Isabella Marin.

  Focus, focus. He would act, he had to act. And another would pay for betraying him. And Barstow. He’d be a fool to trust him.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  Govan Shipyards

  Glasgow, Scotland

  Paulina Vittorini stood on the docks, a hand to her eyes, the wind off the River Clyde plastering her long, wide-legged pants against her. Though the day was gray and overcast, the shipyard was humming with activity. Massive cranes moved through the sky, hundreds of workers swarmed the partially built Type 26 frigate in dry dock, Britain’s newest line of maritime defense.