Cyber Attack

by Tim Washburn

  “Okay. I can understand that. It’s going to take a while. But how did the base get bombed not once, but twice? Didn’t your crew learn the lesson the first time?”

  “It’s a long story, Mags. I had no control over the second bombing.”

  “What in the Sam Hill are you talking about, Bruce? You’re the captain.”

  “Admiral Malloy came out on a chopper. He’s—oh hell, I’ll explain everything when I get home. If they let me come home, that is.”

  “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph. What’s going to happen?”

  “I don’t know yet. We’ll be in port in a few minutes.”

  “I’m coming down there.”

  “No. Stay home. I’ll let you—”

  A gunshot echoes through the ship. Hensley jumps to his feet.

  “Was that a gunshot?” Maggie asks.

  “Yeah. I gotta go. I’ll call you back.” Hensley kills the call and slides the phone into his pocket as he hurries to the door. He opens it and hears footsteps hurrying down the stairs, then Kathleen Connelly comes charging down the hall. She pulls up short when she spots Hensley.

  “Thank God. I thought you’d gone and done something stupid.”

  “Not me. Where did the shot come from?”

  “I don’t know.”

  With a sinking feeling Hensley walks over to the officers’ wardroom and opens the door. Admiral Richard Malloy is slumped in the chair, his blood dripping down what’s left of his face and onto his shoulder. The pistol he used to shoot himself is lying on the table. Trying not to disturb the scene, Hensley steps carefully into the room to check if Malloy has a pulse and finds he doesn’t. Not that he expected to find one, based on the size of the exit wound and the blood and brain matter splattered on the wall. Hensley exits and closes and locks the door. He looks at his executive officer. “Kat, please post a guard on the door. No one is to enter the room until the military police arrive.”

  “I’ll handle it, Bruce. Are you okay?”

  “Yeah. I knew he was despondent. I should have taken his service weapon.”

  “He wouldn’t have let you take it even if you’d tried. He was a stubborn man.”

  “He was that.” Hensley sighs. “A complicated situation just became far more complicated. I don’t know what’s going to happen when we dock, Kat. I assume I’ll be taken in for questioning and that means that you are now in command. You better get back to the bridge so you can help dock this piece of shit.”

  “We were all a part of it, Bruce. And I’m sure we’re all going to get grilled. But the one thing you need to remember is there was nothing we could have done. No one knew the ship’s computers were compromised.”

  “I know. But the navy will want someone to pay.”

  Connelly points at the door to the wardroom and says, “I think someone just did.”

  Thirty minutes later the ship is docked. Captain Bruce Hensley steps out on the deck and salutes the two military police officers awaiting him. They return the salute and take Hensley in for questioning. During the interrogation process Hensley is told the final tally. His shoulders sag and he begins to weep when the military police inform him that six ships have been sunk, several others have been damaged, and nearly eight hundred sailors have been killed.

  * * *

  It’s dark by the time the captain is released. He steps outside the headquarters building into the warm night, still unsure of his fate. That won’t be decided until a thorough investigation has been completed. He walks to his car and climbs in. When he arrives home, Maggie meets him at the door with a cold glass of his favorite bourbon and a warm hug.

  Daily News Website

  —BREAKING NEWS—Multiple high-ranking officials confirm country facing cyber attack. Could be weeks before attackers identified. More details to follow...

  —BREAKING NEWS—Finally a bit of good news on what has been the worst day in this nation’s history.

  We have just learned that the floodgates at the Glen Canyon Dam have been closed. The worries about the possible collapse of the Hoover Dam have abated for now. More details to follow . . .

  —BREAKING NEWS—Reports confirm USS Stark is responsible for attack on Norfolk Naval Station.

  The new Zumwalt-class destroyer, the USS Stark, is now docked at Norfolk. We still have no news about what occurred and a full damage assessment of the naval base is now under way. There is no word about the fate of the crew aboard the beleaguered warship or any word about the ship’s future. Military experts say the investigation into the cause could last for months. More details to follow . . .

  —BREAKING NEWS—Update on Seattle chemical plant explosion. Multiple fatalities confirmed at nearby water park. One mother is being hailed a hero.

  We can now confirm that multiple fatalities have occurred at the WaveFront Water Park. Located a short distance from the chemical plant explosion, many of the deaths at the park were the result of chlorine poisoning. The exact number of fatalities is still unknown, but one mother killed is being hailed as a hero after she directed several children to climb to the top of the park’s tallest attraction to avoid the highly concentrated chlorine gas hovering near the ground. Included in the group of children are the woman’s own son and several of his friends. We are happy to report the children are all recovering at a local hospital. Names of the dead are being withheld until the next of kin can be notified. More details to follow . . .

  CHAPTER 86

  Chicago

  Peyton stirs awake and rolls over to find her husband propped up on an elbow and staring at her. “What are you doing, weirdo?”

  “Looking at my wife,” Eric says. He leans down and kisses her on the lips. Last night they’d made love and it was extremely emotional and tender after all they endured yesterday. “Ready for round two?”

  Peyton playfully pushes him away, “You tie that thing in a knot.”

  Eric lies back down. “What do we do now?”

  “Do you think Allison has changed her mind since Jordan is home?”

  “I have no idea. What I do know is that it’s a long walk to your mother’s house. And with your lacerated feet and my bullet wound it’s going to be a slow, painful journey.”

  “No one said we had to leave today,” Peyton says, rolling over to spoon with Eric.

  “We might not have a choice.”

  “I don’t think they’re going to kick us out on the street.”

  Eric runs his fingers through Peyton’s hair. “They might. And I don’t know that I would blame them. It’s a hell of a lot easier to feed two people than it is to feed four.”

  “Knowing how much Allison hates to cook, I’m betting they don’t have much food to begin with. It might be easier if we work together to find food.”

  “You can count me out if you’re thinking of looting a store,” Eric says, lifting the gauze to check his wound.

  Peyton leans over for a look. “Your wound looks clean and dry. Let’s hope it stays that way. Anyway, back to the food. It doesn’t have to be a store. We can look for empty houses or even the schools.”

  There’s a soft knock on the door and Allison announces that they’re up.

  Eric climbs out of bed and begins dressing. “How are you going to know if a house is empty?”

  Peyton throws back the covers and Eric stops what he’s doing to stare at her nude body. “I told you to tie it in a knot,” Peyton says, climbing out of bed and pulling on her borrowed panties. “I guess we’ll have to stake it out for a while before we attempt to go in.” Peyton pulls on the gym shorts and the shirt. “I really need to pee.”

  “Bathroom’s down the hall.”

  “We can’t use the bathroom, Eric. There’s no water to flush the toilet.”

  “Damn, this is going to be hard, isn’t it?”

  “Yes.” Peyton opens the door and hurries down the hall. She says good morning to Allison and Jordan in the kitchen and slips out the back door and squats behind their garage. Coming back in, Eric slides by an
d heads outside to do his business.

  “We’re going to need to figure out the bathroom issues,” Jordan says.

  Peyton joins them at the table. “What? Like an outhouse?”

  “Yeah, or something like it. Things will become unsanitary in a hurry if we don’t bury our waste.”

  “I just had to pee,” Peyton says, slightly embarrassed to be discussing this topic. “I thought urine was sterile.”

  Eric comes back in and takes a seat at the table.

  “Urine is not sterile,” Jordan says. “Anyway, we’re off topic. We need to think about digging a latrine or something.”

  “We?” Eric asks. “You guys aren’t kicking us out?”

  “Hell, no,” Jordan says. “If what Peyton believes is true, we’re going to have to band together if we’re going to make it. We’ll have to come up with a set of ground rules so we’re not tripping all over ourselves, but foraging for food and water will have to be done in teams of two, just so someone can watch the other person’s back. Besides, Allison and I would kill each other if we’re stuck in this house together with nothing to do.”

  “What’s the food situation look like?” Peyton asks.

  “Grim,” Allison says. “We have some peanut butter, a couple of cans of corn, one can of green beans, and a box of cake mix. Everything in the fridge is spoiled.”

  “Pretty slim pickings,” Peyton says. “Who do you know that was out of town yesterday?”

  “The Wallace family from down the street flew out to California the day before yesterday,” Allison says.

  Jordan pushes to his feet. “I guess we’ll start there. Eric, will you go with me?”

  “Of course.”

  “Don’t be so quick to answer. Are you willing to pull the trigger on the shotgun if you need to?”

  Eric thinks about it for a moment. “I think so. I guess we won’t know until we face that situation.”

  “By then it will be too late,” Jordan says.

  “What about you, then? Would you pull the trigger if it meant killing someone?” Eric asks.

  Jordan nods. “If one of our lives were at stake, yes. In a heartbeat.”

  Eric runs his fingers through his hair. “Maybe I should be the gatherer and you should be the hunter.”

  Jordan shrugs. “Works for me. Let me grab the shotgun and some extra ammo and we’ll take off.”

  CHAPTER 87

  Boston

  After hijacking the flight Michelle Miller and Carlos Torres had planned, Paige Randall and Hank Goodnight are now on the ground in Boston. Both had crashed as soon as the plane had taken off and they’re far from well rested, but they are functioning. Hank looks out the side window as the driver from the Boston field office turns into an industrial area northwest of downtown Boston. The driver badges his way past the police barricades and pulls the Tahoe to the curb just down the street from the FBI’s special weapons and tactics (SWAT) team’s van. Parked two blocks from the target building, it will be the staging area for the upcoming assault on the building. Piling out of the car, Hank smiles again at how tight Natalie’s jeans are on Paige. She catches his smile and shows Hank her middle finger.

  Hank shrugs. “Hey, at least you got them on.”

  “I’m glad you find that humorous, asshole.”

  They make their way to the van in search of the guy running the show and find him sitting at the rear of the truck watching a video feed from the exterior of the building. He stands and steps down out of the van. “Hank Goodnight, as I live and breathe.”

  “How ya doin’, Cliff?” Hank asks, extending his hand.

  “Just waiting on you, Hank,” the man says, pumping Hank’s hand.

  “Cliff, meet Paige Randall from cyber. Paige, this is Supervisory Special Agent Clifton Reiley from the agency’s Critical Incident Response Group.”

  Once the introductions are finished they get down to business. “What do we know, Cliff?” Hank asks.

  “We tried a camera under the door but they’re in a different room inside the building. So we put the drone up and grabbed some video footage through a grimy-ass window. We did a thermal scan and counted eight living bodies inside.”

  “Did you run the photos through the NextGen ID system?” Hank asks.

  “Quality’s not good enough. Climb up in the van with me and you can watch the video,” Reiley says.

  “Is the drone still up?” Hank asks.

  “No. We recorded video of the entire exterior of the building. What else you looking for?”

  “Did you cover the roof?” Hank asks.

  “Hey, this ain’t my first rodeo. Of course we videoed the roof. It might be our best entry point.”

  “Did you scan for wireless networks, Cliff?” Paige asks.

  “Yep. They have one, but good luck getting access to it.”

  “Encrypted?” Paige asks.

  “Yeah, by something my tech guy says he’s never seen before. You’ll have to talk to him. I struggle to keep my damn e-mail working right. Let’s go look at the video.”

  Paige and Hank follow Reiley up the back steps and into the van. After watching the various video feeds, Hank sits back in his chair. “Did it look like those three armed men are guardin’ the safety of the hackers or are they guardin’ the hackers themselves?”

  “That’s an interesting way to look at it,” Reiley says, rocking his chair back. “Are you saying those young guys are being coerced?”

  “Maybe not originally. Remember, this thing had to be in the works for years. Be hard to ride herd on a group of folks over that length of time. It could be one or two got skittish once the people began dying. But, someone in there sent out an SOS when they logged on to the satellite from inside that buildin’. Will you play the interior footage one more time?”

  Reiley does a double take. “Hell, Hank, is that brain of yours drying out? I don’t ever remember playing a video for you more than once.”

  “I’m lookin’ for confirmation, Cliff. I know what I saw, but I didn’t get a real clear look. Any audio?”

  “We’re trying, but there doesn’t seem to be a lot of talking going on in there,” Reiley says, running back through the video that’s stored on the hard drive. He stops on the interior shots from the drone and hits play. Inside are five people scattered out around a large table similar to one you might find at a church potluck. There’s nothing fancy about the table or the fold-out chairs they’re sitting in. Three other men, their rifles slung over their shoulders, are positioned around the room in a crescent-shape formation.

  Hank leans forward. “Stop. Can you zoom in on that face?” he asks, pointing at the screen.

  Reiley works the trackball, pushes some buttons, and the man’s face fills the screen.

  Hank points at the face and says, “His name is Hassan and he’s originally from Pakistan. He never told me his last name, but when I met him he was a student at MIT.

  “Where did you meet him?” Paige asks, amazed at Hank’s recall—again.

  “An Internet security conference two years ago. We had a brief conversation about various encryption methods. Nice guy. I can’t believe he’s tangled up in this mess.” Hank startles when his phone buzzes in his pocket. He pulls it out and lights the screen. “Uh-oh, a 911 text from Mercer to call. Paige, visit with Cliff about a plan. I want you inside the buildin’ as soon as it’s cleared to preserve as much evidence as possible. And we know these guys love to deploy self-destruct payloads.” Hank stands and steps down the stairs, waiting for the call to Elaine Mercer to go through. It does and she answers before the first ring is finished.

  After a few moments of conversation, Hank kills the call and climbs back into the van. “Things may have gone from bad to worse for those guys inside the building.”

  “How so?” Paige asks.

  Hank looks at Paige. “Did you know our new president has a pacemaker?”

  “No. I don’t recall hearing about that during the campaign,” Paige says.

 
; “I don’t, either,” Reiley says. “What about it? Did it crap out on him or go haywire?”

  “Apparently his havin’ one was a closely guarded secret,” Hank says. “But, yeah, Cliff, somethin’ went haywire. They don’t have all the details yet, but the doctors believe someone hacked his pacemaker and accelerated his heart rate. Elaine believes it’s all tied into these attacks.”

  “Is the president dead?” Reiley asks.

  “Not yet. He’s hangin’ on for now. But that’s another reason we need to be extremely careful about handlin’ the evidence inside that building. How long until we make entry, Cliff?”

  “The snipers are in position,” Reily says. “Whenever you’re ready, we’re ready. One question, though. Do you want the snipers to take out the three armed suspects when we breach the door?”

  Hank pauses, thinking. After a moment or two he says, “What are the odds that those guys on the computers are workin’ on a class project and not hackin’ into every computer network in the country?”

  “Less than one percent,” Reiley says.

  “Have the snipers take out the guys with weapons,” Hank says.

  CHAPTER 88

  Boston

  The local police have blocked all traffic within a four-block area of the building and have evacuated the nearby businesses that wouldn’t attract the attention of those inside the building. The assumption is that the five men on the computers are unarmed. But the FBI doesn’t know that for a fact. They also don’t have the floor plans for the building. Reiley sent agents to the courthouse but they came up empty. In the end, it’s not a large building—maybe eight to ten thousand square feet—and the surveillance and thermal scans have detected no other humans so Reiley is not that concerned about not having the building plans.

  One of Reiley’s men plotted out an approach that will allow them access to the front of the building without being seen. It’s a roundabout way, but maintaining the surprise element is key. There was some debate about breaching through the roof but the only way to get to it is via ladder, leaving the men exposed for too long. Reiley also thought about dropping some agents down from a helicopter, but that could spook the bad guys and maybe lead to destruction of evidence before they could get to them. So a hard, fast breach through the doors is plan A. Hank, wearing an armored vest and a FBI Windbreaker, is one of the eight men who will make entry into the building. Other agents will guard the building’s other exits and will not be part of the breach team.