Silent Warpath (Sean Quinlan Book 1)

by Dominic Conlon

  ‘One thing is for sure. Our systems are so highly customised, no ordinary virus would be able to affect them.’

  ‘Yes’, mused Natasha. ‘That’s probably why none of our anti-virus programs picked it up. They only catch viruses that are already known to exist. Which means... ?’

  ‘Which means’ continued Stan, ‘that the virus was never released anywhere else. It was designed specifically for the project, for this one time only, and for one purpose only.’

  Natasha agreed. ‘It’s more devastating than I first imagined. I just hope I’m not right. I keep thinking there is something else I’m missing, but I can’t quite put my finger on it.’

  ‘You’d better try and get some sleep’ said Stan. ‘You’ll need all your strength for tomorrow. I’ll inform the DOD.’ Stan started back to his office.

  ‘Oh Stan’, Natasha got up. ‘I’ve remembered.’

  Stan turned back.

  ‘You agreed that nearly 90% of virus code is there just so a virus can move from one host to another.’

  ‘Yes, I did.’

  ‘You agreed that this virus could have only been meant for the sub’s computers – just the computers on board.’

  ‘Natasha, I don’t see what you’re driving at?’

  ‘Well, this virus doesn’t need 90% of its code to infect millions of computers – only the few that are on-board.’

  ‘OK, but I still don’t see your point.’

  ‘Stan, if 90% of the code is not needed to infect other computers, what is it designed to do?’

  Stan halted at the door, stunned as the thought sank home.

  Chapter 12

  ‘Jack Langham?’

  In the background the wail of a burglar alarm could be heard.

  ‘Yes, who is this?’

  ‘Police Officer Daniel White from the Patrol Division. Are you the key holder to 1170 Edes Street?’

  ‘Yes – why, is there a problem officer?’

  ‘Not really a problem, no. We were alerted by a neighbour that your burglar alarm had gone off. We’re at the property now, but there’s no sign that anyone was trying to break in. We think it’s just a fault on your alarm, sir. Problem is, we can’t switch it off. Can you come to the property?’

  ‘We’ve only just left on vacation.’

  ‘Well, you’ll have to turn it off sir, it’s disturbing the neighbours. When can you get back?’

  ‘Look officer, could you do that? There is a spare key under the plant pot in the drive. I can give you the alarm code.’

  ‘Well, that would be very unusual.’

  ‘I would be really grateful if you could officer.’

  ‘Very well, let me have the code and I’ll make sure we include your house in our patrols for the next week or so.’

  When Langham gave him the code, Sean thanked him and closed the call. He signalled for DD to turn off the fake alarm.

  ‘Not a bad American accent’ said DD.

  Sean grinned. ‘Looks like we’re on.’ He drove around the area slowly, noting possible escape routes, then parked two streets away from the house. They both slipped on dark rubber gloves before getting out of the car.

  The house showed no lights and they crunched over the gravel drive as quietly as they could. A plant pot stood by the door with a fine spray of pampas grass. Lifting it up Sean found the key. An external security light came on before he could get the key in the lock.

  They entered quietly and DD headed straight for the burglar alarm in the hallway. It was ticking like a grandfather clock. When DD pressed in the code, the ticking stopped.

  Sean looked around in the gloom. All the curtains were closed, but light trickled from the street via the front door transom. He turned on a flashlight and started a search, going quickly from room to room. The kitchen and living areas didn’t take long to check. Off the hallway he entered a large room which looked much more interesting. This was an office, holding a desk, filing cabinets and bookshelves. High up in a corner of the ceiling opposite the door a web cam overlooked the room. It was possible that Jack had wired this up separately to the security system and Sean pointed it out to DD.

  Amongst the collection of papers and pens on the desk was a desktop PC. The screen was blank, but DD could tell the PC was switched on because of the green tell-tale lights on the front. DD nudged the mouse and the screen lit up. Jack had not bothered to password protect the PC when waking from sleep mode. DD shook his head, sat down in front of the computer and turned on the desk light. He began by opening a browser and typed in the address of an Internet site. Immediately the site responded with one line of text.

  Current IP Address: 84.12.141.72

  DD made a note of the number and then cleared the browser history so that the owner would not suspect someone had been using his computer. From his rucksack he produced a hard drive which he connected into the back of the desktop PC.

  While DD was copying the drive, Sean checked out a sturdy looking grey filing cabinet. It was locked but he found the key amongst a pile of papers on the top. As far as he could tell the files in the cabinet all related to domestic matters.

  Sean looked more carefully at the papers on the top. He found a letter from a holiday park for a 10-night stay, dated three days earlier. He looked through the waste bin and then the rest of the room, but found nothing more of interest. He went back to the desk and started checking through the drawers. In the topmost one he spotted a USB key. He took it out and examined it under the light of the desk lamp. He showed it to DD, who gave him the thumbs up sign. He swapped them over, substituting DD’s key for the one in the drawer.

  DD signed that he needed five more minutes to complete the disk copy. Sean went upstairs and found a gym in one of the bedrooms. The only item of note was a small semi-automatic in the bedside drawer in the master bedroom.

  On the way out, DD re-armed the alarm.

  Even with the USB key, cracking Jack Langham’s password was proving difficult. DD’s first job was to find the password Jack used to log in to his home computer. Once he found that he would be able to find his work password and credentials.

  He fished around in his rucksack and brought out a half dozen CDs. On one laptop DD loaded a program that automatically tried various combinations and permutations of letters and numbers in case the password was not an English word found in the dictionary. On another laptop DD started to load the information he knew about Jack - his name, address, telephone number, family names and names of work colleagues. These items went into a database which the program would use to find a password match. DD used different password cracking programs on the remaining laptops, leaving one computer free to keep in touch with base and for access to the Internet.

  He looked around the room. In a way it reminded him of a circus performer spinning plates. DD needed to check each computer in turn to see how far it had got with its program.

  Half an hour later one of the laptops bleeped. DD pounced on it. Flashing on the screen was the password Jack used for his home PC. Quickly DD typed this in and was rewarded with access to all the files on the disk. Using the same password he opened Jack’s email account and whistled. He picked up his mobile and dialled Lomax.

  ‘Lomax. Receiving you strength ten. How’s it going?’

  Strength ten meant that Lomax was clear.

  ‘I’ve just got in to Jack’s private email account. You ought to see some of the pictures I’m looking at right now - they’re pornographic!’

  ‘So?’

  ‘Well Jack’s featuring in all of them - one way or another!’

  Lomax considered the information. ‘Could be someone’s blackmailing him. Can you trace the sender?’

  ‘I’ll have a go, but don’t hold out much hope. It’s just too easy to mask email identities.’

  ‘Give it a try anyway. What about Langham’s work access?’

  ‘I should have more for you later today.’

  ‘Give me call when you do. Oh, one other thing’ continued
Lomax. ‘London called. They changed their minds - or possibly had their minds changed for them. We’re clear to continue, for now.’

  ‘Thank God for that’, said DD. ‘But why?’

  ‘They didn’t say’ said Lomax. ‘But you need to be cautious. Remember your security procedures.’

  ‘I’m not likely to forget now, am I?’ said DD.

  ‘Explain’ said the President curtly.

  ‘Sir, the sub raised its buoy shortly after midnight. We squirted a pre-prepared acknowledgement, after which the sub sent back a code. Initially we didn’t look at the code too closely until later this morning – the fact that it had acknowledged our signal and responded in the correct sequence was good enough for the programming team, so they told the military that everything was OK.’

  The President kneaded both temples with his fingers. ‘So now you’re going to tell me it’s not alright?’

  ‘This is the message we got back.’ Harris handed him a slip of paper with a word written in capitals.

  OMWH

  ‘Well, what does it mean?’ asked the President.

  ‘The message stands for On My Way Home. It’s what we were expecting. But what the science team forgot was we should have also received a second string. It should have signed off with CET, standing for CETUS of course. At the moment, we don’t know why we didn’t get that second string.’

  The President looked at Harris curiously. ‘Well, it’s not that obvious to me either – enlighten me.’

  Harris looked down at the slip of paper. ‘I think it’s telling us that we are no longer in control.’

  The President turned away and walked over to the window. He looked out at the green expanse of lawn and the breeze blowing the last of the autumn leaves. It was hard to imagine that a substantial threat lurked in the depths of the sea some several thousand miles away. But he knew better than to ignore it.

  ‘There is something else...’ Harris tailed off as the President turned around.

  ‘Let me have it Robert – I need to know everything.’

  Harris steeled himself. ‘It means that somehow the computer systems aboard have been infected with a program which has forced it to ignore our instructions. The sub has turned rogue.’

  ‘We know that, for God’s sake’ said the President, voice raised. ‘What I want to know is what are we doing about it?’

  Harris ticked off each item on his fingers. ‘First, we formed a high-level crisis team, which is in permanent session. Two, I’ve sent my best man to join the Anti-Submarine Warfare task force we sent earlier. We’re turning it around and having more assets join further north. Three, we involved the FBI in trying to track down how the project team security was breached. Obviously, if we get a handle on that, we might trace the person responsible.’

  Harris glanced at the President. ‘Four, we have called in a few favours with strategic space command and have re-scheduled four of our military satellites to try and track the sub’s position.’

  Harris cleared his throat. ‘Five, we have alerted all our military shipping in the southern Atlantic.’ Harris gauged the look on his President’s face. ‘We are close to the time when we need to alert all commercial shipping in the area.’

  ‘What would the effect of that be?’

  ‘Chaos Robert’, said Harris quietly. ‘We would need to keep every ship in port – even then there could be no guarantees’, said Harris despondently. ‘That sub could slip into the most heavily guarded ports in the world.’ Harris was startled at his next thought. ‘Could be, it might even move in on us. If that happened we would need to start protection measures at all of our naval ports on the Eastern seaboard. As of now.’ Harris looked at the President for his reaction.

  ‘Just let me get one thing straight, Harris’ questioned the President. Is this a random virus which it picked up somehow, or... something else?’

  Harris twisted his hands. ‘None of us believe it’s a common computer virus. For one thing, the computer systems on the sub are not standard and anti-virus security on the project was tight. No. Stanislawski says his team leader believes it was made especially for the sub. Someone wrote this virus specifically to rob us of our most advanced underwater weapons system.’

  Paradoxically, the President appeared to become calmer as the news grew worse.

  ‘If that’s the case’ said the President, ‘what is the object? Is it going to roam the ocean, attempting to sink every American ship and submarine in its path, or is there something else?’

  ‘That’s a possibility Robert’, said Harris. ‘If it’s a foreign power they might have wanted to snatch it from us. I don’t need to remind you of the importance of the weapon system. If we lose it to China, say, we can kiss goodbye to the billions we have already spent on this project and hand them a ten year lead in underwater stealth technology.’

  The President seemed to make up his mind. ‘Right Harris, since only ships belonging to our navy have been attacked, I want you to take all necessary measures to protect them. Your number one priority is to find and stop that sub - by whatever means you feel necessary. Next I want you to alert the CIA and the Pentagon to a possible Chinese angle to this. If there’s any covert operation in chain, I want to know. I want an update at 8am every 24 hrs from now on. Meanwhile, I have some calls to make.’

  After the door closed, the President picked up the phone.

  ‘Any progress on your investigation?’ he asked. He listened for a few moments, then replied ‘OK, keep looking.’ The President listened some more, then muttered under his breath. ‘What in God’s name are the Brits doing in all of this?’

  Chapter 13

  ‘Five minutes to landing sir,’ shouted the flight engineer over the roar of the engines. He indicated McIver’s harness. ‘Can I give you a hand?’

  Rear Admiral ‘Jock’ McIver reached for the safety strap and gripped it tight to prevent him pitching forward into the vast and largely empty body of the Chinook. In his other hand he clutched a briefcase and a sheaf of papers – operational orders for his upcoming assignment. God knows why they had decided to send such a big transport for just one person.

  McIver tucked the papers away into his brief case and struggled to get up from the floor with the engineer assisting. When he was on his feet the engineer looked more closely at McIver before backing away.

  ‘Sorry sir, I thought I recognised your face. Are you the guy that saved a helicopter crew from drowning – about two years ago?’

  McIver grunted. It was more like three years ago and it had been on board another Chinook like this one. The flight engineer was careless in doing up the buckles of his harness. He hadn’t pulled the cinches tight and he failed to test them.

  That was when powerful alarm bells went off in McIver’s mind and he insisted that they delay arrival on the target by 15 minutes. As expected both pilot and navigator kicked up a fuss, but McIver outranked them. In the end he had to give them an order. Then he went over each of his own team’s kit with the engineer, making sure that he pulled all the straps tight. He insisted that they wore life jackets on top of the rest of their gear. He gave them a pep talk and when he had finished he had his second in command check over his own kit. That, more than anything else, had saved his life and the lives of his team and the crew.

  The crew had objected when he insisted that they wore their life jackets too. But they were forever grateful he did. Five kilometres away from the drop zone the main engine started to give trouble and the pilot made to turn back. After two kilometres and losing height, the forward rotor engine spluttered and died all together.

  On the way down McIver recited the procedure for ditching at sea, shouting above the roar of the one remaining engine. He ensured everyone’s flashlights were on and that they knew exactly where the exit hatches were. In the last few minutes he told them the order at which they would make their escape because he knew just how devastating uncontrolled panic could be. Shortly before impact the big chopper started to circle in
a dizzying spiral. McIver shouted, telling them how to avoid the sense of disorientation. He ordered an exit hatch to be opened and the staff sergeant kicked out an emergency survival pack into the dark of the night.

  They hit with an astonishing force. But above the noise of the crash and the surge of water filling up the interior, McIver continued to shout instructions. Thanks to his calm authority they all made it out of the machine and up to the surface. Those out first swam towards the survival pack and pulled the tabs to inflate the life raft. Those out last found it waiting for them.

  Later it was discovered that fuel contamination was to blame for the crash and out of five helicopters taking part in the exercise, only McIver’s was affected. Two of the other crews picked them up about fifteen minutes later.

  It was rare for everyone to survive a crash over water in those conditions. A few days later, the crew presented him with a signed certificate which still hung in his wardroom.

  Despite the lashing rain produced by a local storm cell they made a safe landing on the rear deck of the lead Cruiser of the Anti-Submarine Warfare group - the USS Port Royal. As he climbed down onto the apron, McIver saw Captain Jim Armstrong waiting for him in the shelter of a stair well. Armstrong hurried over and reached forward to shake his hand. McIver turned back towards the helicopter and waved his thanks to the pilot and crew.

  A few minutes later Captain Armstrong held open the door to his cabin and followed McIver in. McIver gave the room a quick glance. There was a tiny conference desk with four chairs around it. Leading off was a door to the bedroom and another to the bathroom. Some family photos were positioned along the shelf around the room. Overall, it looked more like an office than the Captain’s living quarters.

  ‘Drink?’ Armstrong enquired.

  McIver nodded and removed his wet coat, then sat while the Captain poured a stiff measure of Bourbon. He raised his glass in a brief salute.

  ‘I suppose you’re wondering what’s brought me out this far?’