by John Statton
She remembered telling him, “Imagine an unfriendly African Head of State heading into a Swiss clinic for a heart operation. Your standard ruthless, corrupt president-for-life. He is under twenty-four-hour guard. All of his attending staff had been with him for decades and were completely loyal; terminating his dictatorship needed a little magic. A team I might happen to know hacked his IV drug pump to administer a lethal dosage. He was declared accidentally dead within four hours of checking in. And there were no fingerprints at the crime scene.”
Mariana began to get a bad feeling and endeavored to access a wider range of hospital systems used for Sander's care. She pulled up a listing of every device on the network and zeroed in on his room. Among the equipment listed was the Kryotube model her group had used in their dictator removal project. When she got to access the pump's programming, she found herself locked out.
The Donkey rounded the corner to intensive care. It stopped before the secured entry. The automatic doors sensed its presence and swung open in admission. The robot slowly made its way down the hall. It passed Sander's bed and rolled up to the nursing station, where it beeped softly to announce its arrival.
Mariana was stopped cold, all the time knowing Sander could at any moment start receiving a horse tranquilizer, and his pump would administer a horse-sized dose. She frantically launched attacks on the lockout, seeking a walk-around to let her shut down the pump.
The ward's nursing shift leader plugged in her acceptance code and took receipt of the drugs for her shift. Storing them in her cart, she placed her iPad on the top of it and began her rounds.
Across the room from Mariana, Seth noticed a user testing the security lock he placed on the pump’s system. He upgraded his system access level and started working to halt further penetration.
The nurse had reached Sander's room. She pushed her cart next to his bed. She glanced at the instructions printed at the bottom of the pharmaceutical bag and pulled it and a saline bag out of the cart.
Although blocked, Mariana had a feeling she needed to immediately stop whatever was happening. She felt locked in a hidden fight for dominance over the hospital's system and Sander’s life. She attacked and defended all at once while racing to root access and control.
The nurse pinched off the flow of the depleted saline and pulled out its tube from the stent in Sander's arm. Turning around, she disposed of the bag. She then repeated the process with the old pharmaceutical bag.
Mariana's opponent was not especially skillful but did slow her down with a couple of unexpected moves. She won her race to the root, assuming control over the hospital’s system and locking out every ruse. She opened up the pharmacy records, deleted the tranquilizer prescription and entered a priority pharmacist note.
The nurse made a last perusal of Sander's chart displayed on her iPad. She saw the pharmacist note regarding the tranquilizer issued in error and not to dispense. She promptly started the saline drip and tossed the prescription bag back in her cart. That's why she always double-checked an order, just part of the job.
Without knowing why, Mariana felt like she’d been fighting for system control with someone physically close by, but could not put her finger on what caused the feeling. She noticed when the nondescript guy across the room from her abruptly closed his laptop, cast her a dark glance, and strode out. Something weird with your eyes, she thought, and bad on you, leaving trash on the table.
Mariana assumed her stopgap counter worked because she didn’t see any variation in Sander's telemetry. With a sense of total relief and shaking hands, she purged the drug dosage library and reset the pump. She then took a few measures of her own. Sander was moved to a high-security room with close monitoring, both physical as well as medical. Then, she used her system control to lock down any further order changes.
After both safety measures were in place, she watched his signs for a long while as she made up her mind what to do. Leaving him alone is putting him in more danger, she thought. If that’s the case then all of the years, all of the time apart, might be coming to an end. But first I need to know what NetSecure’s role is in this, and there’s only one way to do it.
#
Chapter 12
Hacking Mansfield
July 2016
The NetSecure offices were quiet when Mariana returned in the early evening. She knew Mansfield had a dinner engagement with investors that would keep him out past her bedtime. Substantially past the time it should take for her to perform her clandestine operation. She badged in with the front door reader, gaining admittance to the lobby. The elevator took a separate badge flash to confirm she had access to the fifth floor. Getting out, she entered a luxuriously appointed, and now deserted, reception area. She stepped up and had her retinas scanned, after which her card allowed the door to the rest of the floor to open.
She stepped into the plush executive suites, an East Coast tradition Mansfield had transplanted. She’d joined early, worked hard, had success, and been recognized with a senior vice president status. While her team's Hall of Justice was in another part of the complex, her status came with a lot of perks, including a beautiful office on this floor. She liked to use it when she needed to close a door and have thinking time.
She used it tonight because it provided a connection to the black network storing the most closely guarded of NetSecure's secrets. It was an internal system hard-wired without any outside access. Only select parts of the company’s offices could reach this key system known by its nickname, the X-Files. Laden with intrusion detection, protection, and retaliation code, it was as secure as they could make it for communications among the twenty-five who secretly ran the company. Even here, there were layers upon layers of codenamed access secrets. They kept little on their personal systems; this was the private space where they worked and stored.
Walking down the hall, she caught the view of security cameras connected to NetSecure's operations center, where hundreds of live feeds from across the campus displayed. If you were on a black team, these cameras stopped outside of your team's space, such as the Hall of Justice. But otherwise, the company monitored everything that happened internally, every communication in and out and every employee's movements. It was full out military-grade surveillance.
For seniors, such as Mariana, with greater access, there were stringent rules to follow. Before logging on, she took the last step and called security to notify them she wanted a connection to the X-Files to "wrap up some work,” the current code phrase to show she was not under duress. Only then did she plug her laptop into the net.
Immediately, it was under attack. The network initially identified the laptop as an accepted machine then it aggressively probed to be sure its assessment was correct. Any incorrect response and her machine would be bricked, and the authorities notified. NetSecure employed experienced guys with guns for its security teams. Although she had done nothing wrong, yet; she felt a sense of relief when the system connected without incident.
Each of NetSecure's senior management left their most sensitive information behind the company's firewall in the X-Files, rather than run the risk of having it on their laptops when out in the real world. She came to a decision and thought, It’s time to take a look at Mansfield's files. There’s just too much pointing at my company.
She first tried a little sleight of hand. When the company needed the utmost in secure computing, she was on the team putting the X-Files together. There wasn’t a system she had coded that did not contain a secret trapdoor to enable her to pop in and take control. She accessed the system and reached out to her hidden entry. Discovering the door locked, she thought, As if it never was; a sneaky bastard found my passageway and filled it in. They had to be pretty smart. Well, when you need to see secrets, you first gently try the lock, but sometimes you have to kick open the door.
Pursing her lips, she laid her fingers on the keyboard. She thought, It's time for Mommy to bring out the big caliber weapons. With a few keystrokes, she invoked HARPO
ON, a program her team had been working on over the last few months.
With HARPOON you could spear the encrypted network whale. Anyone using HARPOON could go where they wanted on any network, and do so with such artistry that no one would know they’d been there.
HARPOON created a virtual supercomputer by subtly taking over available computing resources. On all available networks. Powered by an artificial intelligence, the more systems linked, the smarter and more powerful it became. It worked quietly in the background of the Internet. It could select among different types of processing available, ranging from infected phones to supercomputers or quantum computers attached to any of its infiltrated networks.
Still a deep secret, it was her team's skunkworks effort and not yet disclosed to Mansfield. It used the AI the Israelis had provided for SHAVEPOINT and took it in new directions. Giving it life on the network and grafting on the ability to increase its power by harnessing other computers in its service. Enabling it to brute force a lock, using all possible keys, almost at once.
The X-Files yielded its secrets within two minutes. Mariana started to dig through the immense amount of data suddenly available. Looking for Mansfield's little corner of this universe. While he was going to be tied up out of the office, tonight seemed like an excellent opportunity to take a run at his files. She settled down for what she expected to be several hours of reading.
She was wrong.
***
Mansfield's dinner had been a disappointment. NetSecure was expanding, and he could use additional private investment. While the real books were never going to be seen, the company's legitimate security business boomed. He needed more fuel for that fire, and a venture capital firm interested in joint-funding a new division seemed like a target of opportunity.
He spent a tedious hour listening to one of the two-member investor team recount his fishing trip to the Amazon. Finally, he and the fish were spared further torture when the missing member called in sick. Mansfield understood and accepted assurances they would soon reschedule so both could hear his pitch. He deftly avoided committing to an upcoming trip to the wilds of British Columbia and gracefully exited.
He never let a valet take his car. There was no way he would let a stranger inside to plant a bug, tracking device, or systems hack. In any garage, the car’s intelligence and defensive systems were enough to handle unwelcome visitors. He enjoyed the couple block’s walk to where he had parked. The night's air had a hint of coming fog but still felt warm. Opening his door, he climbed in and contemplated the rest of his evening.
He decided it was time to review the reports coming in from China about the People’s Liberation Army's Unit 61398. It was their advanced persistent threat operation, its cyber-warrior team operating out of Shanghai's Pudong area. He was not yet too concerned about their capabilities, since NetSecure had compromised their systems, but he needed to be sure the company kept up.
They do some quality work, he mused. Mostly things we've used already, but the report’s summary hinted at an upgrade to their toolkit and a reach into nuclear power plant security. I need to know more. Maybe time to address nuke plant protection. That would be an excellent project for Mariana.
He entered the NetSecure building's garage and pulled into his space. Getting out, he plugged in his car and thought, It’s good to be king, and have an always available power cord. Then he turned and saw Mariana's Tesla several spaces down. He felt surprised to see it and grumbled to himself, Hell, now I'm going to have to stop by and be friendly for a minute.
The security staff on station in the command operations center noted his entry into the building twenty-five minutes after Mariana.
***
She tapped into Mansfield's private journal files. Their encryption did not stand a chance, and soon she rummaged at will through very potent information. A quick scan left her utterly astonished by three stunning revelations.
Number one, she’d been set up when it came to the British election hack. The Moscow puppet did not exist. Instead, a group called the Politburo was the power behind NetSecure and, for a reason unknown to Mansfield, had ordered the hack. He thought they wanted the Conservatives returned to power.
The mass capture of American's data was a fact. Paul had been right. NetSecure was using the same technology her team had been implementing on overseas networks right here at home. They were assimilating everything for the NSA, with Blair acting as the bad boy in charge.
But the most interesting files were the emails saved under O’Brien. Mansfield had given the orders to eliminate Paul and Sander. As soon as she opened these files, she’d a fleeting wish she’d never learned any of this. The earth had shifted on its axis, upending everything she knew, and she did not want to fully confront the implications.
My God, he’s killing my friends. There’s no way around it, she thought. I need to reevaluate everything I thought I knew about that bastard and NetSecure. Her entire orientation had turned one hundred and eighty degrees from trust to terror at the magnitude of her betrayal.
The quick knock on her door almost gave her a convulsive fit. She almost had another when Mansfield opened the door and stuck in his head. She froze. Her fingers stopped playing the keyboard. The file she was saving to her fob continued its silent download.
“Mansfield. I thought you were with investors. Did they refuse to pick up the check?” she asked with a smile. All the time hoping he would not come into her office.
“No, one got sick, and I got stuck listening to fish stories. At least they had tasty martinis. You working late?”
She cast a nervous glance over the screen displaying his data. If he moved just a little bit her deception would be clear. Ignoring her utter panic, her voice sounded clear and normal, “Yes, just reviewing a little skunkworks project. If it looks promising, you’ll be the first to know.”
“You know how I like the first mover advantage. Well, I won't keep you. Good night.” With that, he closed the door and wandered down the hallway, carrying his laptop. As he left, Mariana gave a small sigh of relief. She was under no illusions; he was capable of having her killed.
Her necklace fob was still downloading his files when she stopped the transfer. She quickly interrupted the program, but she knew she would not have adequate time to cover her tracks. For a few more minutes his files would show the current time she’d opened them for review, instead of the last time Mansfield had accessed them. Just a few more minutes, I could have slipped out leaving no trace. Now it’s going to be close, she thought.
She pulled out the fob and slid it back in the cross. She thought, I got as much as I dare. I’ve got the truth. Now’s the time to get moving. She leaned over her keyboard, typed in R A B B I T R U N and hit return. You don't easily elude the world's best cyber-security company, but she just harnessed NetSecure's systems to help her escape. She’d been contingency planning a quick exit for some years.
***
Mansfield reflected on the rather civil exchange he just had with Mariana. Maybe I’ve been misjudging her, he thought. After all, she’d been accomplishing exactly what I’ve asked with monotonous excellence. God, I wish I had been able to build more trust with her. I hate working with that idiot, Blair. What an evil little prick he turned out to be. But until he could be sure about her, there was no way she would get assigned anything illegal within the US or gain access to the population control project.
Mansfield pushed open his door, and the lights came up. He crossed the carpeted expanse to his redwood-topped desk, gleaming under subdued spotlights. After settling into a comfortable leather chair and plugging in his laptop, he called security and gained authorization to access the system.
He logged on to his desktop and almost clicked to open a file when he noted the last accessed time, just four minutes ago. Calling up the directory, he saw most of his files listed recent access just minutes before. Then faster than his eye could follow, they did not. They had all reverted to their prior dates and times. He’d
never seen anything like it and was left nothing to ground his belief in what he’d just seen. He’d been hacked.
“Goddamn it!” He let out a bellow. He had faith in what he witnessed and had a prime suspect just down the hall. He lunged up and with malicious intent stalked out, walking as fast as his rebuilt leg would let him.
“Mariana!” he bellowed as he threw open her door. “What the hell have you been doing?”
But he was shouting into an empty office.
***
Mariana had paused only to pull a large-sized Faraday trench coat out of her closet. Left over from an earlier project, it formed part of her “get out of Dodge” plan. She moved fast, and by the time Mansfield left his office she’d rounded the second floor's stairwell landing, heading to the Promised Land beyond the outside door.
The security cameras covered the stairs, but they didn’t record her presence. RABBITRUN took care of a lot of things regarding Mariana’s digital life, including a little hack of the company's facial recognition software to mask her presence to any camera, giving her virtual invisibility.
Mansfield slammed open the door of the company's Command Center. His shouts to get on the system and find Mariana startled the lightly staffed crew. Still, he was the boss, and they bent to the task. The center’s wall of monitors displayed camera feeds from throughout the company. They identified her in elevator number three, heading down. The camera captured a glimpse of her head in profile, enough for a match in the facial recognition database. The security team isolated the elevator between floors and stopped it.
Naturally, she was not there when they opened the door, but a very startled maintenance worker faced a ring of guards with guns drawn. Mansfield had them play back the camera recording and confirmed she did not look up or around after the initial glance allowing them to identify her.
