Mike turned to the assistant director, who turned to Shaffer.
“Agent Banner,” Shaffer said, “What you’ve just seen is a recording of someone breaking into the New York Federal Reserve. I’d like to explain how it was done, but I don’t have a clue. And neither does anybody else around here.”
“Jesus Christ,” Mike said. It was all he could think of.
Shaffer nodded to Dekker, who said, “This bank is protected by one of the most secure systems in the world. As you can see, they managed to somehow bypass it completely. As for the people that monitor the system from Boston, they don’t even know it happened.”
“When did it happen?” Mike said.
“Sometime between Wednesday afternoon and midnight last night. From what we can see, that was when all the camera feeds for the areas concerned were automatically erased by the system.”
As he listened, the frown on Mike’s face deepened. “How? I don’t get it. There’s no indication in the system that the doors were even opened?”
“None,” Dekker said. “And everything appears to be running just fine now.”
“Do you know what was stolen?” Mike said.
Dekker handed Mike a sheet of paper. “This was also left in the vault.”
The sheet was a printed list numbered from 1 to 120. Each entry contained the name of an individual or company. Mike recognized quite a few of them, including several prominent members of the New York political elite. Below the list, written in the same clumsy handwriting as the Latin on the wall were two words: Back Off. Below this in even smaller letters there was a long string of what looked like some kind of code.
“Well, the message is clear enough, if nothing else is,” Mike said handing back the sheet. “We go looking for these people and everyone on that list gets a copy of the video, along with the Times and the Journal, is that right?”
“Something like that,” Shaffer said.
“But if this is just blackmail,” Mike said, “where are the demands? It’s hard to believe someone would go to all this trouble just to prove it can be done. Have you considered the possibility that they have taken something, and that you won’t know what until the target does?”
“It’s a possibility,” Shaffer admitted. “But as you say, we have no way of knowing. What concerns us right now isn’t who did this, but how. This bank is the cornerstone of the Federal Reserve System. We hold gold reserves here for over two dozen sovereign nations, the Israeli war chest, and enough cash to buy out Berkshire Hathaway several times over. I had to talk the secretary of the treasury out of bringing in the damn army to protect the building this morning. You can imagine what a can of worms that would have opened.”
Mike only nodded.
“I hope you can,” Shaffer said.
Mike turned to the assistant director. “Ma’am, are you sure I’m the person you need here?”
“You’re my most senior agent, Mike,” she said. “You’ve also got the most experience with cyber-crime. And if I’m honest, you’re the only one I fully trust to keep his mouth shut. This needs to be handled under the radar. Director Gobain has made it clear that no one else is to come in on this.”
Mike considered this for a moment. “All right, but I’m going to need you to make one concession.”
“Go on,” she said.
“I’ll need Mitch Rainey up here from the Office of System Development.”
“Who?” Shaffer asked.
“Kid I busted in Phoenix a couple of years ago. He’s the best computer guy we have, trust me.”
“No way,” Shaffer said.
“Then you’re wasting your time,” Mike replied.
“You want me to let a convicted criminal in here? I’d have to be fucking insane to even consider it.”
“Ma’am,” Mike said, ignoring Shaffer, “from what I understand, someone just robbed this bank with a computer. Is that a fair summary of the situation?”
“That’s what it looks like, yes.”
“So we’re not dealing with some local crime syndicate. And I think we can rule out terrorism. I have trouble sending e-mails, so veteran agent or not, I’m of no use to you there. Rainey’s the best guy we have.”
Mike turned to Shaffer. “And he’s not a convicted criminal; he’s an employee of the FBI.”
“Sure,” Shaffer said, “Because you wanted him. I’m guessing he was spared the interviews and the trip to Quantico, am I right?”
“You’re missing the point,” Mike said. “If I didn’t know better, Mitch would probably be one of my first suspects. By which I mean, if anyone can figure out what happened here, it’s him. When we tracked him down in Phoenix he was about twenty-four hours away from wiping out the credit card accounts of three of the largest issuers in the country. In fact, you’ve probably heard of him.”
Shaffer frowned. “You’re talking about the Bank of America thing? The kid from Seattle?”
Mike nodded. “That’s the one. If it’s any consolation, he’s more than made up for it working with the Bureau. My point is, he’ll be a lot more useful around here right now than I am.”
“All right,” the assistant director said. “I’ll put it to the boss. But don’t hold your breath.”
“I’m telling you, I don’t like this, Mary,” Shaffer said.
“You have a better idea?” she asked.
He didn’t.
Chapter 4
Federal Reserve Bank
New York, New York
Saturday 15 July 2006
2000 EDT
Mike was standing outside the open vault when the assistant director stepped out of the elevator. He was holding the can of spray paint in one gloved hand and peering at it as if concentration alone might reveal the identity of the man who had left it behind.
“Anything?” she asked.
Mike shook his head. “No. The prints are Dekker’s. What do you make of the cryptic clue?”
The assistant director walked to the open door of the vault and stood looking at the wall. “Who will watch the watchmen? That’s what it says, right?”
“I think it’s ‘who will guard the guards themselves?’” Mike said. “It’s a line from Juvenal’s Satires about the dangers of corruption in high places. It certainly makes you wonder what this is all about.”
Mike was about to say something else when the elevator doors opened and Dekker stepped out. “Agent Rainey has arrived. Should I bring him down?”
“No need,” the assistant director said. “He’ll need access to the security mainframe. Agent Banner will come up with you.”
– – –
Mitch was standing by the counter in the main lobby when Mike arrived. He was dressed in his time-honored combination of faded jeans and a t-shirt. Mike didn’t think he’d shaved since they last met.
“Hey, Mike,” Mitch said when he saw him. “Long time, no see. You’re not going to tell me someone actually robbed the New York Fed, are you? Because that would be funny.”
Mike gave the guard behind the counter a nervous smile and ushered Mitch down the hall. “Jesus, Mitch. What part of discreet didn’t you understand?”
“Someone did rob the Fed. Holy shit.”
“Mitch, I’m not kidding.”
“Yeah, yeah, I get it. I just can’t believe it.”
Dekker was waiting for them when they reached the security office.
Mitch walked straight to one of the terminals at the back of the room and pulled a laptop computer out of his bag. Every inch of it was covered in stickers depicting rock bands, cartoon characters and comic book superheroes. He took a USB memory stick from his pocket and put it in one of the slots in the terminal beneath the counter.
“You’ll want my login details, I take it?” Dekker said.
Mitch moved aside to show Dekker he was already logged on. “Lesson number one, either replace your keyboards regularly, or clean them at least once a week. Lesson number two, never use a common name as your password. That goes double
for terminals you don’t use to type on very often.”
Dekker turned to Mike, blushing slightly.
“It’s okay,” Mike said. “He does that to everybody.”
Mitch turned back to the screen and started opening windows. Occasionally he would mutter something under his breath and open another, then close it again and murmur something else. This went on for about ten minutes. When he was done, Mitch pulled the USB stick out and put it back in his pocket.
“May I ask what it is you’re doing?” Dekker said.
Mitch turned and looked at him as if he’d just suggested they all get high. “Mike, you know I do my best work when I’m left alone, right?”
“I believe the chairman was quite clear about anything being removed from the system,” Dekker said. “You’ll have to clear whatever it is you’re taking with him first.”
“I can’t work like this,” Mitch said and began to stand.
Mike stepped forward and put a hand on his shoulder. “Sit down, Mitch.”
“I think it’s best if I get Mr. Shaffer,” Dekker said and left the room.
“Christ, Mitch,” Mike said when he was gone. “Could you please keep that damn tongue of yours on a leash? Things are tense enough around here as it is.”
“Fine. But could you please do the same with that fuck stick? He wears Old Spice, for god’s sake!”
Dekker returned several minutes later with Shaffer and the assistant director in tow.
“Agent Banner,” Shaffer said. “I’ve been told you’re removing data from our system. Is that really necessary?”
Mike was about to answer him when Mitch said. “All I’m copying are system activity logs. I could write the information out into my notebook but I didn’t bring enough of them, nor do we have the six months it would take to do it.”
“How do we know that’s all you’re doing?” Shaffer asked.
Mitch sighed and turned to face the four of them. “That’s just it, you don’t know. Because you don’t really know what any of this stuff does or how it works. Unless someone who does – and in this case that would be me – is left alone long enough to figure out what happened here, you will never know. Make sense?”
Shaffer could find no response. He turned to the assistant director, who only shrugged.
“Yes. I see your point,” Shaffer said.
Mitch slapped both knees and stood up. “Good. I’m done here anyway.”
“That’s it?” Mike asked.
“Not quite.”
Mitch connected the USB stick to his laptop. They all watched as he typed something into a simple command line interface, his fingers a blur above the keyboard. When he was done he ripped a Post-it note from the pad on the counter and wrote something down.
“Can I see that note again?” Mitch said to Mike. “The one with all the numbers at the bottom.”
Shaffer nodded at Dekker, who handed it to Mitch.
“Bingo,” Mitch said.
“What is it?” Mike asked.
“I need to get in there,” Mitch said pointing at the door to the server room.
“What for?” Shaffer asked.
Mitch only looked at Mike and the assistant director, his eyes pleading.
“Let him in,” she said.
Shaffer hesitated for a moment then nodded at Dekker again. Dekker pulled a small ring of keys from his pocket and unlocked the door. Mitch disappeared inside.
They watched through the small pane of safety glass as he pulled back one of the glass panels covering a stack of server modules and consulted the sheet of paper. When he pulled his arm back out he was holding a small circuit board. Mitch squinted, trying to read something on the label, consulted the sheet again, and nodded to himself.
“Here’s your bank robber,” Mitch said as he stepped through the door and handed the circuit board to Mike.
“What do you mean?” asked the assistant director. “What the hell is it?”
“Memory,” Mitch said. “Standard one gigabyte ECC DIMM module. Only that one isn’t exactly standard.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning I’d like to meet the guy who made it so I can get his autograph. Whoever it is, he or she is a genius.”
“Mitch, this is serious,” Mike said. “Are you saying they used that thing to hack the system?”
Mitch looked around the room and saw nothing but blank, expectant faces. “All right. Systems like this can’t be hacked from the outside. That’s just something the idiots in Hollywood came up with along with those ridiculous graphic interfaces they always use to do it. It can’t be done. Not even from the control room in Boston. And it sure as hell can’t be done over the Internet. Whoever did this either had a copy of the software or he was familiar enough with it not to need one. Either way, he knew the only way to get inside was by accessing the mainframe directly. So that’s what he did. With that.” Mitch pointed to the memory module in Mike’s hand.
“I don’t understand,” Mike said. “You’re saying he was here?”
Mitch shook his head. “No. He got a maintenance engineer to do it for him. Once this was installed it was just a case of waiting for the designated time, and off you go. The program would have done the rest. Opened the doors, wiped the camera footage, whatever they wanted.”
“How the hell can it be that simple?” Shaffer asked, looking incredulous.
“It’s not,” Mitch replied. “For one, he would have had to do it twice. You’ll find another one of these inside the server up in Boston. It’s the only way it would have worked. And there’s nothing simple about the way it was done. That memory module is a serious piece of engineering. It’s not just a case of sticking a program on it and letting it run. To go unnoticed it would have been designed to mimic the real thing in every way. If it didn’t, it would have crashed the system as soon as it was installed. Without getting too technical, the way this managed to override the system was almost certainly by manipulating the data stored in memory by the program itself. As for how they got around the error correction code, I could only guess.”
Seeing he had lost them, Mitch said, “I don’t know who’s behind this, but I can tell you there aren’t that many people capable of making something like that. Personally, I would suggest you start with the people who wrote the code in the first place.”
Shaffer turned to Dekker. “But how the hell did it get in there?”
Before Dekker could reply, Mitch asked, “When was the last time the server was upgraded?”
“Last year,” Dekker said. “In April of last year.”
Mitch nodded thoughtfully. “If they knew who supplied your hardware, it wouldn’t have been that big a deal. There’s no way of checking the authenticity or integrity of a hardware component like this unless it fails. They would have made the switch somewhere in the delivery chain between the factory in China that produced it and the courier that dropped it off here. They simply switched it somewhere along the way. The guy who installed it would have had no idea it wasn’t authentic. Pure genius.”
“And this?” Dekker said pointing at the bottom of the sheet in Mitch’s hand.
“That’s the memory address location. Without it, it might have taken me all day to find the right module.”
“You’re saying they wanted us to know where it was?” Mike said.
Mitch nodded. “Yep.”
Chapter 5
Skyline Defense New York, New York Saturday 15 July 2006
2300 EDT
Carl Bosch stood looking down at Central Park from his office on the 78th floor. Jack Fielding, the company’s corporate head of security, picked up a bottle of Glenfarclas 1955 from the small bar in the corner of the office and held it up to the light. “I didn’t know you drank whiskey.”
“I don’t. Rosenberg sent a case of it over last week.”
“How is the old Jew, anyway?” Jack asked.
“Considering he’s almost eighty and still drinks that piss, I’d say he was fine,” Carl said.
“He’ll outlive us both, you know.”
“Speak for yourself.”
“Mind if I take a bottle?” Jack said.
“Take all of it. I can’t tell that shit from motor oil.”
Jack shook his head in mock disgust and put the bottle back down. Carl walked around his desk to a large glass display case sitting against the wall beside the door. Inside was a scale model of a large research vessel with a dark green hull and white superstructure. The small print on the stern read Pandora – Busan. He stood looking at the model for a moment, taking in the extraordinary detail.
“How did things go with the admiral?” Jack said.
“Greer’s a son of a bitch. He asked for another twenty thousand. Can you believe that?”
“You want me to get it back?”
“And deny him his goat ranch in New Mexico, or whatever the hell it is? No, I quite like the idea of him shoveling shit for the rest of his life. Right now I’m more worried about finding someone to replace him. He may have been an asshole, but he was our asshole.”
“You have anyone in mind?”
Carl shook his head. “No. But Marius will find someone. He always does.”
Chapter 6
Federal Reserve Bank New York, New York Sunday 16 July 2006
0400 EDT
Mike left with Mitch just after four in the morning. They drove to an all-night diner in Prospect Heights, not because it was the closest place to get a bite to eat, or even the best, but because aside from his small rented apartment in Manhattan, it was the only place Mike knew.
Aside from the pretty young waitress who had been using the downtime to give herself a manicure, and seemed anything but happy to see them, they had the place to themselves. They took a table in the corner. Mike ordered pancakes and Mitch asked for a cheeseburger, then changed his mind to the all-day breakfast, changed it back again, and was on the verge of another switch when the waitress put her pen back in her apron and left without another word.
Origin - Season One Page 2
