Deep State Stealth

by Vikki Kestell

  He moved on. “Mission planning is a good example of the mental sharpness and attention to detail that is necessary. You must, I repeat, you must know the lay of the land and learn the mission venue inside and out—entry and exit points, all aspects of security, and who will be there.

  “Even then, it is not enough for you to have formulated a good plan. Before you execute, you must think as the opposition thinks, see your plan from their perspective, identify the plan’s vulnerabilities, and reformulate it to eliminate said vulnerabilities. That means you must know your opposition better than he knows you.

  “When your plan is set, you aren’t finished. You must plan for the unexpected and maintain your cool when the unexpected occurs. If the *bleep* hits the fan, your contingency plan will either save your life or end it—which is why contingency planning must be one hundred percent complete, ready, and waiting.”

  “Five-minute break,” Mal called.

  For an hour after that, Logan and Baltar talked about detecting and evading surveillance. “The first rule of tradecraft is ‘don’t give yourself away.’ Unfortunately, the prospect of being outed—intentionally or unintentionally—grows exponentially according to the number of individuals other than yourself to whom your identity and mission are known.

  “In any and every situation, to believe your identity is unknown and to act accordingly is potentially deadly. Again, your mental state must never presume that your identity is uncompromised, just as you must never assume your plan is foolproof. Surveillance detection, then, becomes the way you live—or the way you die.”

  Logan (sans the adamantium claws of his alter-ego, Wolverine) spoke at length on how to be observant, “Again, it’s about mental discipline. You can learn how to watch and catalog faces, clothing, and vehicles, but learning and making it a lifestyle are two different things. As Ian Fleming wrote, ‘Once is happenstance; twice is coincidence. Three times is enemy action.’”

  He looked Zander and me in the eye. “Here at Malware, Inc., we skip the ‘twice is coincidence’ step and go straight to ‘enemy action.’ If you notice someone twice, it is time to act.”

  Then Baltar talked about proving you had a tail, then evading the tail. He spoke on “surveillance detection routes” (SDRs), and how to design an effective one.

  Mal stepped in and handed both of us flash drives. “That’s it for tonight. Here’s a little ‘light reading.’ We’ll meet again next week, same time and place, and put some feet to what you’ve learned. Good night. Dredd will take you back to your vehicles.”

  Dredd gestured to us, and we followed him to the clubhouse’s first-floor garage. We climbed into a van that, like this neighborhood, appeared on the outside to be neglected and rundown but, on the inside was up-armored and in good working order.

  “Where to?”

  “Drop me anywhere I can grab a drink.” It was the first thing I’d come up with to preserve the illusion that Zander and I hadn’t arrived in the same vehicle. I also hoped my “grab a drink” reference reinforced my “tough girl” image.

  Dredd pulled up to a curb. “This good for you?”

  “Yeah. Thanks.”

  I got out. Fifteen minutes later, Zander called me. “Ready for me to pick you up, Ripley?”

  I giggled. “Yes, please. I know we don’t require a full night’s sleep, but I’d sure like to log at least three hours.”

  “Me, too. I’m bushed.”

  Chapter 7

  MY SECOND AND THIRD day at the NSA had passed with little fanfare. Although I was itching to sic the nanomites on the trail of Wayne Overman, I’d decided to be discreet and spend my first week keeping my eyes and ears open while learning my job—not all that difficult given how quickly I absorbed information. I had determined not to make a move until I had a better sense of the place.

  My resolve lasted until Thursday.

  Jayda Cruz. It is time to get up.

  Jayda Cruz. It is time to get up.

  Jayda Cruz. It is time to get up. Proverbs 6:9: “How long will you lie there, you sluggard?”

  “Yeah, yeah.”

  I roused Zander and stumbled from the bed to the bathroom. Five minutes later, we were out the door, into our morning run.

  It was after our run when I changed my mind: I was ready to put the nanomites to work. While I showered, I thought hard about which tasks to assign to the nanomites first.

  I wanted to track Wayne Overman’s movements during his last weeks at the NSA, overlaid on the schematics of the NSA campus and cross-referenced against the movements of other NSA employees who came within Overman’s vicinity during that timeframe. I figured Facilities would have the schematics. Safety and Security would have the badge-tracking software. Both departments should have dedicated drives on the main NSA network.

  And, even though government regulations required that email accounts and phone logs of its institutions and agencies be preserved, I was worried that whomever was responsible for Wayne Overman’s disappearance may have selectively expunged the last weeks of the man’s digital footprint at the NSA. I wanted the nanomites to download Overman’s emails and phone traffic—from the time the President asked him to dig into Harmon’s connections at the NSA until he disappeared. I hoped those documents would provide some clues as to what he’d discovered.

  If Overman’s email and phone logs hadn’t been deleted, IT would have them.

  “Nano, can you reach into the Facilities and Safety and Security drives from IT?”

  Yes, Jayda Cruz. With the exception of the Repository and any air gapped vaults or SCIFS in the facility, we can access all department drives from IT. We can, in fact, access all department drives from any computer on the main network.

  “Good. That gives me some options.”

  The mites had touched on a big downside to working in the Repository. Because the Repository’s network was physically separated from the rest of the NSA networks, the nanomites could not get to the main network from my workstation, nor could they leave our department on their own momentum. I needed to convey them to a point of network access.

  It was still my first week on the job, but I’d seen how employees pretty much stuck to their own departments or areas—and every one of those had an access control point. I didn’t know where, outside of the Repository, I could take the nanomites that my presence wouldn’t arouse suspicion. HR? Maybe. IT? Also a maybe.

  The problem was that both of those departments were at the other end of the campus from the Repository. I needed a plausible purpose for going to either place.

  I toweled off and dressed. As soon as I pulled on the lightweight top I was wearing to work, I added the lanyard from which my badge and key fob dangled.

  Key fob.

  I fingered the little device, its regularly changing code necessary for me to log into my computer at work.

  “Nano. I’d like you to disable this fob so that I can’t log in this morning.”

  Done, Jayda Cruz.

  I finished getting ready for work. Zander and I drank our first cup of coffee, then ate breakfast together while reading our Bibles. We prayed over the day, mentioning Zander’s job search, Abe and our boy Emilio back in Albuquerque, and my efforts at work.

  Zander laid a long, lingering kiss on me that left me breathless and silly as I headed out. Close to an hour later, I greeted Macy and my other team members, and tried to log in at my Repository workstation.

  “Huh.”

  Macy scooted her chair closer to mine. “What’s the problem, Jayda?”

  “My fob isn’t working.”

  “Here. Let me see.”

  She examined the tiny screen that should have displayed the six-figure code for me to enter. It was blank. Sure enough, my fob was dead.

  “Weird. You must have gotten a lemon.”

  “Guess I need to return it to IT?”

  “Yeah. Hey, Sherry? Jayda’s fob isn’t working. She needs to go back to IT.”

  Sherry agreed, so I wound my way o
ut of the warren of cubicles, through the Repository doors, across the breezeway into the next building, and down the hall toward the distant IT Department.

  “Nano, when we reach IT, please send in a search party to trace Overman’s whereabouts for two weeks prior to his going missing. Overlay his movements on a detailed schematic of the NSA campus, and correlate his badge’s movements with every other badge within his proximity. Upload the data to Alpha Tribe so that we can study it together this evening.”

  This task will take approximately 1.5 hours, Jayda Cruz.

  “Huh? Why so long?”

  This facility employs approximately thirty-seven thousand badge-wearing workers, Jayda Cruz, in addition to the influx of visitors from other NSA and intelligence sites.

  The actual number was classified, but I figured the nanomites’ estimate had to be close.

  “Um, okay, then. I’ll . . . I’ll return at lunchtime to fetch the contingency we leave behind.”

  Hmm. I had a legitimate reason to visit IT this morning, but I’d need another excuse to visit the department a second time in one day. Ordinarily, I’d just walk through the doors in my invisible state, but . . .

  “Nano, how many cameras are watching us right now?”

  We have counted two live video feeds in every area we have been so far, Jayda Cruz.

  “Uh, okay.”

  Gamble was right—not that the cameras themselves posed a big problem to the nanomites, but here, at the NSA, I was supposed to show up on video feed wherever I went, whereas I was not supposed to show up on White House cameras. Did the NSA have people eyeballing its video feeds 24/7? Would anyone notice if I disappeared from the feed for a few minutes? Could I risk it?

  Maybe I’d get away with it, but “risking it” was exactly what Gamble had warned me not to do. The spy masters of the world worked here, so it didn’t exactly calm my nerves that I had to pass the Safety and Security Department before I reached IT.

  Rats. As Gamble had warned, the NSA was proving to be way more intimidating than the White House, throwing me off my game. Making me doubt my instincts.

  Not to worry, I told myself as I approached my destination. I’ll figure it out. Something . . . something will come to me.

  I strolled into the IT Department and approached the help desk. “Hi.”

  The guy at the desk glanced up.

  You know, I would bet my favorite donut that this kid was the poster boy for geek. In a lot of ways, he still looked like the president of his high school science club, when in actuality, he was probably my age.

  Hmm. My age.

  “Yeah? Can I help you?”

  “Uh, sorry. Do you remember me? Jayda Cruz. I started work Monday, and you issued me this key fob.”

  “Oh. Yeah, sure. I remember you.”

  I’d told myself out in the hall that a solution would come to me, an excuse for returning to IT after lunch, and guess what? Something did—but not all schemes are created equal, right? At that exact moment a weird impulse popped into my head—an idea I acted on without additional consideration.

  My left hand wandered up to my hair. My fingers twisted and curled a strand. I cracked a small, shy smile.

  “It’s Rob, right? I, um, I really hope you can help me.”

  Puh-thet-ic. I am the worst spy ever.

  Okay, okay, I admit it. I do need that Spy 101 training. Good grief. What did Gamble call it? A series of “How to Stay Alive” workshops?

  “What seems to be the problem?”

  I exhaled. In for a penny, in for a pound.

  Instead of handing him the fob, I leaned far over his workspace to place it on the desk in front of him, all the while smiling. A faint line of color edged its way out of Rob’s buttoned-up polo.

  Preempting a sniff of self-derision, I faked a helpless sigh. “Well, Rob, for some reason, the numbers on the little screen . . . thingy don’t show up for me when I try to log in. But maybe I’m doing it wrong?”

  I looked Rob full in the face, only twenty inches from him, and slowly blinked. Twice.

  Rob’s blush crawled up his neck.

  Jayda Cruz. Your behavior is quite . . . uncharacteristic. We are confused.

  I kept my eyes locked on Rob’s. “Not now, Nano.”

  Rob wrenched his gaze away from mine to stare at the fob. “Uh, yup. Looks like it’s dead.”

  “Oh! So, I wasn’t doing it wrong?”

  “Nope, I—” Rob made the mistake of looking back to me. “I-I . . .”

  “You can fix it, can’t you, Rob?” Yeah, I injected a touch, a mere soupçon of wheedle into my question.

  Jayda Cruz. We can fix the device for you. You know this. However, we do not understand. First, you asked us to render it inoperable. Now—

  “SHUT IT, Nano!”

  I don’t know. Maybe a microexpression crossed my face, a hint of my irritation with the nanomites?

  Rob’s eyes widened. He slowly pushed his chair away from his desk. Away from me. Looking anywhere but at me, he stuttered, “F-fix it? Um, no. We’ll—that is I—will replace it. Give you a new one. Just . . . just take a seat at the terminal. . . over there, and I’ll log this one out of use and assign another to you.”

  I beamed at him. “Thank you so much. You’re awesome, Rob.”

  He couldn’t help himself. His eyes flicked up to my adoring approval.

  The pink creeping stain darkened and roared up his neck, jaws, cheeks, and forehead. If the roots of Rob’s hair had spontaneously combusted, I would not have been amazed.

  Amused, yes. Amazed? Not so much.

  Five minutes later, after keying in my password and using my new fob to log in to the network, I left the IT Department.

  I gave a happy little wave as I went. I might have been waving to the nanomites I’d left behind, but Rob definitely believed I was waving at him.

  “Nano,” I said as I hit the hallway, “Make sure you download the complete schematics to this place. I want to know the layout—every building, floor, department, office, and broom closet.”

  Yes, Jayda Cruz.

  THE MORNING SPED BY, Macy demanding more of me as I showed her I could follow her guidance. I had to hold back, because to go any faster would have been, you know, abnormal. I cruised along at Macy’s speed and didn’t push it.

  “Well, I’m impressed, Jayda, I really am,” she said at one point. “You have an amazing grasp of new things. No wonder they picked you for the job.”

  “So, she’s Wonder Girl, is she?”

  I glanced up and saw a woman about my age. Her black eyes glittered, but her face seemed expressionless.

  Macy’s body language tensed up. “Hey, girl. How’s it going?”

  “Just came over to scope out the new kid on the block.” She continued to study me with that tell-nothing stare.

  “Um, Jayda, this is Kiera Colón. Kiera, Jayda Cruz.”

  “Cruz? Guess we’re both Hispanic, huh?”

  “I’m not, but my husband is. We just moved here from New Mexico.”

  “How nice.” She turned to Macy. “You going to finish the week?”

  “I suppose we’ll find out. The doctor never thought I’d make it this far carrying twins, but here I am.”

  “You know I wish you well.”

  “Thanks, Kiera.”

  With another glance at me, the woman moved off.

  “Geeze Louise,” Macy breathed. “See what I mean about a sharp edge? Definitely lacking in social skills.”

  I sniffed. “Doesn’t bother me.”

  WHEN LUNCH ROLLED AROUND, the employees in our department started leaving in twos and threes. As soon as I finished the task I was on, I would go, also. Then, after lunch, I intended to poke my head into IT, waggle my fingers at Rob, and add a simpering, “Thanks again, Rob! I was able to log in with my new fob!”

  A few seconds. Enough time for the nanomites I’d left there to flow back to me.

  The more I ran those lines around in my head, the more I wanted to g
ag.

  Ick, ick, ick. I despised girls who used their “charms” to manipulate guys.

  Another thought hit me, one that carried a whopping dose of conviction: What was I thinking, flirting like I was single?

  I glanced at my wedding ring. Why, I’m a married woman.

  I almost laughed aloud. I’m a married woman! I loved the sound of those words, but I guess the magnitude of it hadn’t yet sunk in: I’m a married woman.

  Oh, wow. I’m really sorry, Lord; I wasn’t seriously flirting. Doesn’t matter, though, does it? It was wrong. I should have thought it out before I acted. Please forgive me. Won’t happen again.

  With my confession, the guilt I’d felt faded. Still, I had to laugh at my “discovery”: I’m a married woman! I didn’t think I’d ever get tired of saying it.

  I locked my workstation and got my purse from one of my desk drawers.

  “Lunch?” Macy asked. We’d had lunch together since I started.

  “Yeah. I’m starved.”

  Don’t know how I’m going to retrieve my nanomites, but sure.

  Lord? I need a Plan B.

  Macy laughed. “You’re always hungry, Jayda.”

  We walked (slowly, to accommodate Macy’s rolling gait) to the campus cafeteria, a vast, bustling affair in the same building as IT but some distance from it.

  “You know, we don’t always eat here. The base has a lot of food options. Just depends on what you’re hungry for.”

  “Good to know.” For sure.

  I hoped Macy wouldn’t comment on how much food I loaded onto my tray. I’d devoured two power bars between breakfast and lunch, but I was still ravenous. And I had an apple in my drawer in case, before the day was over, my stomach started revving up like a Grand Prix engine clearing its throat for a big race.

  After we’d gone through the line and paid for our food, we spied Saul, James, and Neville and sat down at their table. Before long, Chantelle, Lynn, and Neri joined us. As it had the last three days, conversation around the table was varied and ranged from sports and video games to the newest movies.