Silent Warpath (Sean Quinlan Book 1)

by Dominic Conlon

  ‘Does that sound like our target?’ asked Captain Armstrong.

  ‘Yep’ replied McIver. ‘I don’t know how he got there so fast – let me see a chart will you?’

  The Captain looked at the Ensign who immediately fetched a map and spread it out over the table.

  ‘He’s covered a lot of ground in what – four days?’ said McIver, tracing a line between the original sea trials off the coast of South America and the incident with the Astute in the Gulf of Mexico.

  ‘Where do you think he’s headed?’ asked Armstrong.

  McIver looked up. ‘Beats me Chris. If he carries on up the coast he could go all the way to the arctic.’

  ‘Or he could turn into any of our ports on the Eastern seaboard.’

  ‘God help us’ replied McIver. ‘Anyway we need to get ahead of him. We’ve got an idea of direction and speed, so let’s estimate where he’s going to be and have a surprise waiting for him.’

  McIver made his way out onto the deck as two helicopters were being readied. The squally rain had lifted leaving a thin sea mist that still clung to the wave tops. Steaming north at full speed for 24 hours they had been joined in the night with the additional resources McIver had promised. Two new frigates lay off their port bow, a new supply ship brought up at the rear and a hunter-killer submarine made up the rest of the combined group. He returned to the bridge.

  ‘I want to cover as much ocean as possible’ said McIver, leaning over the plot table.

  ‘Each frigate has a compliment of twenty four helicopters’ said Armstrong. ‘We could rotate four from each ship. That would keep eight helicopters in the air round the clock. If we form two lines of four we could keep each helicopter in line 200 yards from its neighbour.’

  Armstrong sketched out his strategy. ‘The second line of four follows a quarter of a mile behind and covers the gaps from the first line. What do you say?’

  McIver agreed. ‘If we work to a predefined search pattern we can sweep a path half a mile wide.’

  ‘We would need to have a pretty accurate estimate of its position - half a mile is nothing in these waters.’

  Captain Armstrong gave the orders and they watched as the first helicopters took off. Soon they established their lines, dipping sensitive sonobuoys into the water at different intervals. On board each aircraft a seasoned sonar man listened with a huge pair of earphones. The sonobuoys relayed the faintest sounds back up the helicopter and from there to the sonar room on Armstrong’s cruiser.

  McIver knew just what a punishing schedule they were keeping, having been a helicopter pilot himself more than ten years previously. And he knew just how difficult it was to separate biological from mechanical noise when listening to the cacophony of sound that came through the sensitive microphones. He sat next to two men on the sonar desk, clamping a spare set of headphones over his head.

  The signals were collated from all the helicopters aloft. They were then filtered by computer and tagged and checked against a database of known shipping. The list included all surface ships and most underwater subs. Armstrong was right, mused McIver. This really was like trying to find the proverbial needle in a haystack. How are we going to find something in this vast ocean, when it’s beyond the range of our instruments to detect?

  McIver shook his head. Only the US Navy could have cut orders like this.

  ‘I’m dying’ said DD putting a hand to his ribs.

  Despite the pain killers and sleeping tablets DD woke up in the night with a splitting headache and a fierce pain in the ribs. He managed to lever himself up and just made it to the bathroom in time to be sick. Lomax came in to see him.

  ‘Dan, I know that you’ve been through a traumatic time. But it’s what you signed up for and why HM Gov pay you a handsome cheque each month.’

  DD crawled back into bed. ‘I didn’t sign up to be tortured by sadistic brutes!’

  ‘If you hadn’t been such an idiot you wouldn’t have been snatched - you’ve only yourself to blame for that’. Lomax was losing patience. ‘Look take another painkiller.’

  DD gulped the capsule down with some water. ‘I want to go back’ he said simply. ‘I know I’ve been a stupid fool but I really want to go back home.’

  Lomax sat on the bed. ‘You’re not going anywhere until the mission has been completed. What do you think we’re doing here - a holiday with all expenses paid?’ Lomax decided he needed to take a firmer grip.

  ‘Now you listen to me. We all have to work together - as a team - to get the job done. When the job is done, then we all get to go home.’

  DD held his ribs. ‘Thanks for the pep talk Dad, but I can’t work when I’m in so much pain.’

  Lomax picked up a small flashlight and checked DD’s eyes again for signs of concussion. There was a slight indication but not enough to call the medic.

  ‘Do you think Sean would complain and ask to be sent home the first time he has to endure a little rough stuff?’ asked Lomax.

  ‘I’m not like Sean. I feel things differently and I haven’t had the training he has.’

  Lomax got up and pulled up a chair. ‘Before Sean became a marine he had to go on a number of training courses. One time he and a group of other recruits were being lead by two instructors in the Dolomites. One of the instructors was leading on an ice climb. He fell. The rope caught under the legs of three of the trainees and one of them fell 600 feet. They thought he’d died. The second instructor who was at the rear didn’t see what was going on until it was too late. Two trainees managed to grab the rope and dig in and the first instructor was rescued by the second. By the time they had sorted themselves out it was dark and too late to go looking for the fallen trainee. They sent a mayday but the rescue helicopters didn’t fly in the dark. The group camped out and they started looking at first light the next day, but found nothing. They were joined by a mountain rescue team and a helicopter but there was no sign of him.’

  DD found himself becoming interested. ‘And I suppose the fallen trainee was Sean?’

  Lomax nodded. ‘It turned out that he’d fallen much further than they thought. He landed in a snow drift and was unconscious for several hours. He didn’t realise it then but the fall had ripped his helmet off. He had hit his head against a rock on the way down and hurt his shoulder. When night fell he thought the group had given up searching, so he effected a self-rescue. But because of the shoulder he couldn’t climb very well. What’s more he developed a bad concussion. It was dark before he stopped climbing. He spent the night on a ledge in a snow hole and reached the top early the next morning. By one of those quirks neither the rescue team nor the helicopter spotted him and they abandoned the search on the second day because of bad weather.

  ‘How did he get back?’

  ‘Sean came down and had to trudge through almost white-out conditions. It took another two days to reach the main party.’

  ‘My God!’ exclaimed DD. ‘Why did he carry on to the top – why didn’t he just go back down to camp?’

  Lomax sipped a glass of water. ‘That’s what the instructors wanted to know when he got back. Sean told them that his orders were to reach the top. He thought they had given up the search for him so going on alone – although foolhardy - wasn’t going to put anyone’s life at risk.’ Lomax glanced at DD. ‘He told them he wanted to test himself. He had survival gear in his rucksack and as the concussion wore off he started to feel stronger.’

  Was he alright afterwards?’ asked DD.

  Lomax shook his head. ‘When he arrived back at camp he had the start of frostbite in several toes and the small finger of his left hand. Next time you look at it you’ll see the skin is paler and yellower than the rest. The concussion lasted for several weeks afterwards. It wore off eventually.’

  DD looked sheepish. ‘I know why you’re telling me this.’

  Lomax remained quiet. The story was one of the less harrowing episodes in the file.

  ‘What you’re saying is I shouldn’t be such a wimp.’
/>   ‘That’s it, basically.’

  ‘Right - I’m tired now. I’ll get straight back on the case tomorrow morning.’

  ‘Good’ muttered Lomax. ‘Now get some sleep.’

  Chapter 19

  DD sweated in the non-air-conditioned van. He had succeeded in persuading Lomax to try penetrating Advanced Marine Agency’s network again. But Lomax insisted in taking no chances. He rented a van and ordered art work with the name and logo of a local telecoms company. DD helped Lomax stencil the livery on the sides of the van and they had both donned blue work overalls before driving out to a junction two blocks from the corner of the Agency building.

  DD waited inside the van as Lomax got out. Through the darkened rear window DD could see him setup the various pedestrian signs around a small road-side communications cabinet. He watched as Lomax laid out a variety of tools on the pavement then went over to the cabinet and used a ‘slim-jim’ to pick the lock. Lomax pretended to be working on the junction box having previously promised DD a thirty minute window in which to eavesdrop on the Agency’s Wi-Fi network.

  DD started work but soon found it hard going. He managed to record some packets over the Wi-Fi network, but they must have been double encrypted. He shook his head in admiration that the organisation had taken so much trouble to lock down their systems. He tried a few other software tools on his laptop. One appeared to work but only got him so far.

  In next to no time there was a knock on the rear door. DD opened it and let Lomax in.

  ‘Any luck?’

  DD shook his head dismally. ‘The security they have in that place is phenomenal. From what I can see the company have a Chinese wall between their commercial systems and the private part of their network. I also discovered that they have a honey pot for people like me.’

  ‘What’s that?’ Lomax asked.

  ‘It’s a part of the network that looks really tempting to a hacker. But it’s a sham - there’s nothing important there. The trap is sprung once you enter the honey pot. You’re followed everywhere from that point on. The company can track where you go and find out what you are looking for.’

  DD caught Lomax looking at him and answered the unasked question.

  ‘No, I didn’t get caught. I know enough about honey pots to know what they look like - and how to avoid them.’

  ‘But not enough to stop you being picked up in the street.’ Lomax grinned at DD's embarrassment.

  ‘The point is’ said the exasperated DD, ‘there is no way I can get to the areas I need to.'

  ‘Have you seen anything like it before?’

  DD shook his head. ‘Not in any commercial organisation I’ve known.’

  ‘But you have seen this type of security somewhere?’

  ‘Only in government and government sponsored organisations.’

  ‘AMA could be a government sponsored company.’

  DD looked thoughtful. ‘It would certainly explain why their systems are so tough to crack.’

  ‘Any idea which government?’

  ‘Not really’ replied DD. ‘They’re several you could choose from: US, UK, Israel, Russia, China. Take your pick.’

  ‘Mmm, China. Was there anything that might point to one in particular?’

  ‘No, sorry. If I could break into their security I might be able to give you a better opinion.’

  On the way back to the safe house Lomax thought things over. When they arrived DD spoke to London but they weren’t able to help either. Lomax poured them both a stiff drink. ‘Tell me again what all this Chinese wall is about?’

  ‘They’ve set up their security in such a way that the really sensitive parts are not connected to any other part of their network.’

  ‘Sort of like a closed loop?’ asked Lomax.

  ‘Exactly. No part of it is connected to anything else. So any information they have can’t get out and nothing can get in.’

  ‘Have you ever met a system like that before?’ asked Lomax with a trace of sympathy.

  ‘Nope - not one so tightly locked down - there just isn’t any way we can break into that system’ said DD in a resigned voice.

  ‘Maybe not - but you’ve given me an idea’ replied Lomax. ‘If we can’t break in using a computer, we can break in using this.’

  DD looked up. Light glinted from the dull black metallic object Lomax held aloft.

  It was a jemmy.

  Sean opened his eyes slowly. There was no sign of Natasha. His watch said 6:37 am, so they had slept for around four hours. Now it looked like she was leaving. Sean listened carefully and could hear Natasha’s subdued voice outside as she talked on her mobile. When she came back in he noticed her face was wet and shiny with tears. He watched as she quietly padded around the bedroom, putting the rest of her clothes into a carry case. He would never forget that moment last night when he held her.

  ‘Hi’ he said and saw her freeze momentarily. ‘Planning to leave without me?’

  Natasha swept a lock of hair behind her ear. It was a familiar gesture; one she often made when dealing with an unexpected problem.

  ‘Where are you going?’

  Natasha wiped her face with the back of one hand. ‘Please don’t follow me this time.’ She shook her head, too distraught to elaborate further. She hurriedly gathered the last few things into her case.

  Sean sat up as Natasha went to the door. She stopped and turned around. ‘I’m sorry Sean. I have to go. I can’t talk about any of it just now.’ She wiped her face again, then turned and left.

  Sean got up and moved to the window. In the early morning light he saw Natasha open the trunk and put her case inside. He watched as she got in and drove out of the car park. Long after she had gone he wondered to himself what it might feel like if he never met her again.

  Natasha stifled a sob as she drove away. She was leaving a man she had come to trust, but her trust was misplaced. Now she felt devastated. She went over the words her contact had used again and again. ‘He is a spy. He is here with a team. He came to steal the project you are working on.’

  ‘If that’s true, why don’t you deport him?’ she had asked, thoroughly confused.

  ‘We want to find out who else is involved in the conspiracy.’

  On the face of it his answer was plausible, but something about it didn’t feel right.

  ‘Why would the British want to steal our project?’ she asked. ‘Surely they are our allies?’

  ‘It’s just business’ said the man. ‘The Brits are always on the lookout for American developed technology. Spying is a relatively cheap way of procuring it.’

  Natasha felt that in a certain twisted way, this made a kind of sense. Shortly after the call she saw Sean asleep in bed. Surely he could not be so underhand? Should she go back with Sean, or follow her instincts to get away somewhere quiet where she could restore some calm and sanity into her life?’

  Natasha glanced in the mirror. Back that way was turmoil and confusion. The only way was forwards.

  Half an hour later Sean keyed in the pin code to his mobile. He went through the procedure to request the GPS location of his spare phone, still attached to the underneath of Natasha’s car.

  While he was waiting for the response, he drummed his fingers absentmindedly on the dash. He recognised that there was something about Natasha he had rarely felt for another human being in all his time working for the agency. For one thing, he was used to dealing with agents, either from his own side or the opposition. These were men and women who had a number things in common – they all tended to be highly skilled in their trade, committed to their current mission, and ruthless in the execution of every task.

  But although Natasha might be committed to helping her government in her own way, she was relatively inexperienced in field craft. So much so, Sean doubted whether she ever had been given any training. No, Sean felt that what drove Natasha was her innocent belief in her job and her duty to her country. But without the training and experience she was a minnow in a shark infeste
d sea.

  His cell phone vibrated silently to indicate the receipt of a text message. He pulled out the road map from the back seat and quickly located the grid reference on the map from the text. It looked like Natasha was about 10 miles north of New Bedford, in an area where several lakes were surrounded by heavily forested woods.

  Sean started the engine and drove out of the motel car park.

  Lomax unfurled an architect’s drawing onto the table and used a notepad and a book to stop it curling back up.

  ‘This is a map of the ground floor.’ Lomax scanned the large scale diagram. ‘I don’t see the computer room - where is it?’

  DD shook his head. ‘We’re not going after the computer room.’

  Lomax looked bemused. ‘I thought that’s where you would need to go to get access?’

  DD shook his head. ‘No. It would take too long. They will have that room locked up safer than Fort Knox. From the information I gathered over their Wi-Fi they have a telephone network which uses the same cabling as their computer network. That could be their Achilles heel. No-one thinks to lock down voice systems with the same level of security as their computer network. There's a strong possibility I can use the voice network to make a bridge to their private computer network. From there I could find a way in through a back-door.’

  ‘OK’ said Lomax in a perplexed voice - what sort of back door are you talking about?’

  ‘I mean a back door in software - it’s a way into the system through a little known entrance. Normally the entrance is left there by engineers working on the system - they’re the worst when it comes to security. If they’re having to constantly login and log off when they need to test things, they can’t afford the time to go through the usual security procedures.’