by Reece Hirsch
When Chris took on Sam Reston’s defense, he knew that the case was going to attract headlines, and he knew that some of his existing clients might not want to be associated with an attorney who was taking on the NSA and the clandestine services. He had not appreciated just how many of his former clients would choose to distance themselves from him, at least until they could see how the Reston case played out.
Bruen & Associates had lost clients as a result of the media spotlight but had also gained a different breed of clients. Reston’s unveiling of the existence of the Working Group and the Skeleton Key program had created a firestorm in the media, and the press had eventually unearthed the story of how Chris and Zoey had been fugitives from the secret agency. Now that Chris was representing Reston in court, certain media outlets were trying to portray him as some sort of privacy advocate and action hero. Chris did nothing to encourage the characterization, but it was attracting a very different clientele to his practice.
He had already been retained to handle two privacy class actions on behalf of customers who had been victims of fraud and identity theft when companies were hacked due to inadequate security. Those sorts of class actions were difficult to win, but Chris was in the mood to tilt at a few windmills.
As he stood before the front reception desk, where Becky Martinez had once hidden her law school textbooks in her lap, he noticed that the display of the security system was flashing. Chris walked back to the entrance and saw that it read, “Motion detected. Rear door.”
He tensed and listened intently, but there was no sound of footfalls or the snick of a door lock. Chris trod carefully as he made his way to the back of the office, past the file room, where Ira Rogers had once played his latest indie discoveries. The back door to the office was closed.
He tested the doorknob. Locked.
Perhaps some rodent had tripped the motion detector. It was preferable to the alternatives.
A half hour later Zoey let herself in. Chris hadn’t slept well the night before, and he’d tried to slip out without waking her up. He figured he could have the office open and humming by the time she arrived, let her get a little extra sleep on this first day. He decided not to mention the alarm issue, because it was probably nothing. No need to spook her on a day that was already fraught.
Something was different about Zoey, but it took him a moment to recognize what it was.
“Where’s your coffee? I’m not used to seeing you in the morning without your Peet’s.”
“I decided to go another way today. Don’t want to invite any more bad luck.”
“Of course. Right. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you undercaffeinated in the morning.”
She removed her sunglasses and peered at him through narrowed lids. “Don’t mess with me, Chris. Even I’m not sure what I’m capable of in this state.”
“I remember during the first year of law school I was staying up all hours studying, and I got to a point where my stomach wouldn’t tolerate any more coffee. In the mornings before class I started drinking this stuff called Rocket Cola—pure caffeine, sugar, and carbonation. Horrible stuff, but it worked.”
“We’ll start a new tradition. I’ll brew the coffee.”
“I’ll warn the staff.” Chris and Zoey were staffing the office by themselves on this first day—for obvious reasons.
Zoey went about setting up in the forensic lab, and Chris unpacked some files in his office. He could smell strong coffee brewing.
Outside, there was a low squeal of feedback, a wireless signal transmitting close to a speaker. A bit later another signal screech.
About five minutes later Zoey was standing in the doorway of his office. She approached his computer and pointed at the green light. “Your webcam’s on.”
“I don’t think I turned it on,” Chris said.
“No, I’m sure you didn’t,” Zoey said. “Come out here.”
Chris followed Zoey into the reception area. The computer at the receptionist’s desk was on, and the webcam light glowed green. Chris felt sick and anxious as it sank in that what he’d assumed had been a quiet, private moment had actually been a very public one.
Without saying a word, they moved from office to office. In each the computer and webcam were on.
“You’re not pranking me, are you?” Chris asked.
“This is not my idea of funny. Not today.”
Chris removed his cell phone from his pocket. The phone was turned on, and the speaker had been activated remotely. “Check your smartphone,” he said.
Zoey examined her smartphone. “My speaker’s on too. Someone is watching and listening to every move we make.”
“Not very subtle.”
“No.”
When they passed the copy room, the printer, which also had a wireless connection for software updates, was on and chattering, spitting out blank copies.
In some national security outpost somewhere, a room full of agents and sigint analysts were watching them, making sure the unsubtle message was received, assessing their reactions. Chris realized that he had felt a nagging anxiety ever since he had noticed the glitch in his car’s navigation system. That queasiness in the pit of his stomach was blossoming into full-on panic, but he tried to maintain a game face. He wouldn’t give their observers the satisfaction.
“We need to get out of here,” Chris whispered. As they moved through the office, the blue lights in the motion sensors of their security system blinked rapidly, sending information to the security company’s cloud-hosting service—and to anyone who might be tapping into the data.
They exited onto Howard Street and stood for a moment on the sidewalk, breathing in the cool morning air, trying to calm themselves. Being in that office had felt like being under a microscope.
He heard a faint buzzing sound and looked up to see the building’s CCTV security camera mounted overhead pivot and focus on the two of them. Next door he thought he saw that building’s camera adjust to face them, with a glint of sun on the lens.
Chris looked up and down the busy street, and he had a strong feeling that every camera on every building had been trained on them. He looked up and saw what appeared to be a grid of dotted lines across the blue sky, tiny drones hovering in formation, recording everything.
Zoey followed his eyes upward and saw the squadron of drones. “Do you think we’re in danger?”
“No, after the Washington Post series it would attract too much attention. They just want us to know that they’ll be watching us, and in the most invasive way possible.”
“Yeah,” Zoey said. “I think I know now what your colonoscopy felt like.”
Standing on the sidewalk with feet planted apart, Chris lifted a middle finger salute to their invisible audience, and Zoey followed suit.
“Welcome to the surveillance state,” Zoey said. “Should we go back inside or just get the hell out of here?”
“I say we go back to work,” Chris said.
“I’m happy to spend today debugging all of our Internet-connected devices,” Zoey said. “But are you sure we shouldn’t just do what Rajiv and Josh did—go find a beach on some remote island off the grid where they can’t find us?”
“There is no off the grid anymore,” Chris said. “Besides, this is my country. I’m not going anywhere.”
He dragged a chair from the office out onto the sidewalk, stood on it, and pulled down the security camera from its mount overhead. Once he was back on the sidewalk, Chris hurled the camera into the pavement, shattering its lens.
“You know you’re going to have to pay for that, right?” Zoey asked.
“Yeah, I know.”
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
As a privacy and cybersecurity attorney, I thought I had a healthy respect for the scope of NSA bulk data collection and domestic surveillance, but researching this book opened my eyes and, quite frankly, creeped me out. For writers of paranoid thrillers, reality has set a very high bar lately.
This book owes a significant debt to
James Bamford’s The Shadow Factory, which traces the history of NSA surveillance since 9/11. No Place to Hide: Edward Snowden, the NSA, and the U.S. Surveillance State by Glenn Greenwald was also a valuable resource.
I’m grateful for every book of mine that sees the light of day, but I know that I wouldn’t have this opportunity without the generosity, support, and inspiration of a number of people, so I’d like to extend my sincere thanks to the following:
JoVon Sotak, my wonderful editor at Thomas & Mercer, for expertly supporting and shepherding this book along the path to publication. JoVon and the entire T&M team make the author a true partner in the production of a book, and that is a rare and valuable thing in today’s publishing industry.
My agent and friend David Hale Smith of InkWell Management, whose judgment and taste are impeccable, whether the subject is writing, publishing, or barbecue.
The entire crew at Thomas & Mercer, who manage to make a bunch of solitary writers feel like they truly are part of a team—and a very fun team at that—including my copyeditor, Marcus Trower; proofreader, Janice Lee; cover designer, Marc Cohen; and the awesome and amazing Jacque Ben-Zekry, Tiffany Pokorny, and Kjersti Egerdahl. Special thanks to Alison Dasho for her early guidance on this book.
Ed Stackler, who has lent his astute editorial insights to every book I’ve ever written. I would hate to do this without him.
Renowned security expert Bruce Schneier for being willing to answer my questions.
The authors who generously took the time to read and blurb Intrusion, the previous Chris Bruen book: Robert Dugoni, Terry Shames, Allison Leotta, and Jon Land.
When I was trying to settle on a name for my protagonist, Chris Bruen, I looked up at my bookshelf and thought of one of my favorite crime writers, the great Ken Bruen. I’d like to expressly acknowledge that tip of the hat and thank Mr. Bruen for the inspiration that he provided with his inimitable writing style.
Last, but certainly not least, I’d like to thank my wife, Kathy—for everything.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Photo © 2013 Sarah Deragon
Reece Hirsch is the author of four thrillers that draw upon his background as a privacy attorney. His first book, The Insider, was a finalist for the 2011 International Thriller Writers Award for Best First Novel. His next three books, The Adversary, Intrusion, and Surveillance, all feature former Department of Justice cybercrimes prosecutor Chris Bruen. Hirsch is a partner in the San Francisco office of an international law firm and cochair of its privacy and cybersecurity practice. He is also a member of the board of directors of the Valentino Achak Deng Foundation (www.VADFoundation.org). He lives in the Bay Area with his wife and a small, unruly dog. His website is www.ReeceHirsch.com.
