by Sofia Grey
Marcus busied himself making fresh coffee and tried to wake up properly. He didn’t see Marianne walk into the office; he heard her heels tap tapping outside the door and smelled her perfume. He remained by the coffee pot, eyes downcast. He was painfully aware of her proximity when she walked over to stand next to him.
“Caffeine. Hurrah.” Their hands brushed together when he passed her a fresh cup. She was dressed in the suit she wore earlier today, but she managed to look fresh and bright.
They glanced at each other. Marcus couldn’t help smiling, and her cheeks pinked. This was crazy. He refused to believe she didn’t want him.
Everyone took seats at the table. There was an air of expectation, as they looked at the spooks.
Greg cleared his throat. “We’ve managed to reverse-engineer the coding from the laptop. As you suspected, there was an Instructive Trojan at work. This was programmed to search for specific words and phrases across the TM-Tech secure network, and I’ve prepared a list of search terms for you to review later. Without further work, it’s difficult to quantify how much information was lost, but I suspect a significant quantity. It’s also not clear yet where the information was despatched to. We’re still working on that.”
“So Rico’s theory stands up. But did we have to discuss this tonight?”
“I’m afraid that’s the tip of the iceberg,” replied Harvey. “The Trojan included a worm virus, apparently named thanks.a. It’s a new one. We haven’t seen one this complex before, and it probably originates from the Eastern Bloc countries. The payload—the intention—included a backdoor.”
Aiden stepped in. “A backdoor is a method of entry to another machine or server. So in essence, this virus enabled access to multiple other machines that received the Trojan. Now listen up. We’ll take questions at the end.”
Greg resumed. “From the evidence so far, we believe the worm created a series of Botnets, using Zombie machines. Zombies, in this instance, are machines infected with the virus. They then form virtual networks with each other—the Botnets. Now Botnets aren’t new; they’ve been around for a few years and are a cheap way to infect vast amounts of machines quickly and easily, so you might not be too worried about a Botnet, albeit one originating from TM-Tech.
“But where it gets really messy is that we uncovered evidence this particular worm has a built in DDOS. That’s code to enable a distributed denial of service.” He glanced at Aiden, as though asking for help. He obviously only spoke Tech.
Aiden nodded. “Denial of service can be big business to hackers. In its simplest form, it’s a method of sending an excessive number of requests from one machine to a server, causing it to crash. Distributed denial of service goes one step further. It uses vast quantities of machines networked together, to send the requests simultaneously. This is coded from either a date trigger or a manual trigger from the owner. A code word, if you’d like.”
Harvey said, “This is the rough sequence of events. Laptops are stolen and used to access the network and upload the Trojans, probably via resending emails sent earlier in the day, since there’s nothing suspicious about receiving the same file twice. The worm embedded within the Trojans is released into the network and begins replicating through each individual’s mail list. Starting with an admin assistant, it could travel to Sales or Marketing, then the Bids team, and—hey presto—it’s replicated throughout all your potential customers too. People like the Ministry of Defence, British Aerospace, Lockheed, Homeland Security, and so on.”
He took a sip of coffee. The silence was deafening.
“Potentially,” he continued, “every machine that’s sent the worm becomes a Zombie on the Botnet. We’re talking hundreds of machines, if not thousands, waiting for a signal before they activate.”
Marcus and Jordan glanced at each other. On a scale of bad to fucking horrendous, this ranked pretty high.
“There’s a big question,” said Aiden. “What will happen when they activate? And that’s what we’re working on. There are several possibilities. The reason we convened now, is to go through the options, decide which are to be treated as priorities, and agree how to proceed.”
Harvey walked to the whiteboard and picked up a marker. “Okay. Let’s start with the simple options. Number one—embarrassment to TM-Tech when major customer networks are denied service. Based on similar previous attacks, corporate impact can be calculated at two billion dollars per day if just the U.S. Defence Department servers are taken down. Add in a load of customers, and your financial impact spirals. Risk? Loss of future revenue and reputational damage. Potentially crippling.”
Aiden went next, as Harvey made notes. “Option two—blackmail. Our hacker holds TM-Tech to ransom, in exchange for not unleashing the DDOS. Impact is financial and reputational. Potentially crippling.”
“Option three,” said Rico. “Smokescreen. The Trojans, worm, and DDOS are designed to distract us, while the hacker plans something left field. We’re so busy focusing on the details, we forget to look at the big picture. Impact unknown, potentially catastrophic.”
Greg said, “Option four. Massive Botnet for major spam platform. TM-Tech is a global corporation, and this is the opportunity for a global DDOS. To prove it can be done. Impact is reputational and minor financial.”
Aiden stood. “Questions?”
“Okay,” said Jordan. “How long will it take to determine the intention of the worm and DDOS?”
Harvey shrugged. “It’s like looking for an atom on a needle in a haystack the size of London. Practically impossible, unless we get very lucky.”
Marcus had so many questions, he wasn’t sure where to start. “Any way to find out how the DDOS will be activated? You mentioned a date or codeword. Is that programmed into it?”
Greg nodded. “We think so, and a few more days should unravel that. It may give us more information on the likely outcome.”
Marianne drummed her fingers on the table. “Is there anything we can do, to prevent this from happening or limit the damage when it does activate?”
“We’re doing everything we can on the technical front,” replied Greg.
“I have an idea,” said Jordan. “What if we go through our databases and customers and warn them? Are there any virus checks or scans they could run to identify it?”
“No,” said Harvey. “The worm is encoded within a Rootkit. That’s a fancy name for the shell that covers it and hides it from virus scans.”
Marcus was getting frustrated. “So what can be done? What next?”
Aiden offered a hint of a smile. “That’s what we need to decide now.”
They spent the next hours dissecting the options and reviewing every bit of information they had. It was agreed that Pete Tandy had to be brought in for questioning. Aiden would liaise with SOCA, the Serious Organised Crime Agency, and Rico would use his connections with the FBI. Rico was adamant he saw Darius Gibson in London, and they’d circulate his name to the authorities. The late-night conference was producing some results.
Marcus was dog tired and longed for his bed. Jordan and Marianne looked equally wiped out.
“One final thing.” Jordan stood. “I’ve been brought in on a consultancy basis only, and I’ll be located downstairs, with the audit team. Marcus still has full authority for all matters pertaining to TM-Tech Europe. All reporting lines remain as they were.”
Marcus nodded to him, relief making his head buzz. He’d been worried Jordan might take over, which would show a public loss of confidence in Marcus’s leadership, but that wasn’t happening.
The spooks all left, Marianne and Rico went back to their places for a break, and Marcus returned to the Exec apartment with Jordan. They’d meet again at ten in the morning.
* * * *
It was almost two in the morning when the meeting finished. The cold night air woke Marianne a little, but she felt like a zombie as she stumbled back to the block, Rico by her side.
She was momentarily puzzled to find lights on an
d music playing softly, but then she noticed AJ snoring on the sofa. Marianne bent over his laptop. iTunes was winding up a playlist called Sylvie’s Tunez. What the fuck? She couldn’t get away from the girl.
“Hey,” murmured AJ, his voice thick with sleep.
She took a deep breath, pushed murderous thoughts away, and smiled back. “Hey, yourself. I’m going to bed. You coming with me?”
He glanced at his watch and then back at her, his brows tugging into a frown. “I didn’t know you worked shifts.”
“I don’t. It’s been... crazy. I need to get some rest.”
She was too tired to shower. Too tired for anything except brushing her teeth and removing her makeup. She dumped her clothes on the bedroom floor, fell into bed, and tugged the duvet over her head. She was asleep in seconds.
* * * *
I hope they enjoyed their little shower on Friday night. More manoeuvring in my game of corporate chess. And now their new servers have a fraction of the protection they had before, I can play some games with them while I move my final pieces into place.
Just over a week to go, and Marcus Reeve will finally get what he deserves.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Marianne had progressed to sharing a bed with AJ, even if that was all they did. She left him asleep and headed to Starbucks, in search of caffeine before she went back to work.
She groaned when she saw the immense queue. Was there another café within a short walking distance? Or was it better to wait? She bounced from one foot to the other while she juggled options in her head. Was there anyone in the queue that she knew? Any of her team?
A familiar blond head approached the counter. Marcus. He appeared to be on his own. Throwing caution to the wind, she hurried up and caught his arm. “Hey.”
“Marianne.” He looked behind her, as though checking who she was with.
“I’m alone. I came for coffee.”
“Same.” He smiled, his face lighting up. “Do you have five minutes while you’re here?”
The correct answer was no. “Yes. I’ll grab us a table. Huge, ultra-strong latte please, and you’d better get takeaway cups.” He nodded and placed the order while she went to commandeer their usual seats.
She sat with her back to the wall, in a position where she could see the counter and the front door. Her mouth dried at the prospect of being alone with Marcus. Her intention to stay away from him disappeared the moment she saw him. She waited in an agony of excitement, hoping none of the audit team felt the need for coffee at the same time.
Marcus joined her moments later, armed with drinks and sticky pastries. “Breakfast?” He offered her the choice. He’d picked her two favourites, of course. He knew her too well.
“Thank you.” She selected one. He put the plates down, and then reached out to take her hands across the table. He held tight, and she squeezed back.
“I have to see you alone,” he whispered.
“I told you, I’m with AJ now.” Common sense told her to take her drink and leave, but she ignored it. Marcus was her boss. She wasn’t doing anything wrong. Damn it. She was lying to herself if she clung to any justification.
“You know how I feel about that. I want you, Marianne.”
“Even if I said yes, it’s impossible. AJ’s in my apartment, and Jordan’s sitting next to me in the office.”
“I like a challenge.” He stroked her fingers, and she felt herself weakening. “We need to find somewhere else.”
She needed to walk away, before he dragged her deeper into this rabbit hole. She tried to conjure an image of AJ in her mind, but Marcus rubbed his knee against hers under the table, and she gave up.
Marcus took a sip of coffee and a bite of pastry. “What about that recruitment consultant we use? Rees-Anderton. Don’t you need to meet with them this week? You know, about a temporary replacement for Sylvie?”
He was too tempting. And this was going to kill her, but she refused to think about it—about what she’d miss.
“I can’t. I won’t.” This time she tugged her hands free. “I’m with AJ now.” Maybe if she said it often enough, it would make everything right.
“Do you love him?” Marcus leaned forwards, his eyes darkening.
“It’s early days,” she said. “We’re still reconnecting.”
“That’s not a yes.”
She stood so quickly, the cups jostled against each other. “I have to go.” Only when she got outside did she realise she left her drink behind. Going back for it wasn’t an option. She wasn’t sure she could tell him no a second time.
* * * *
Alex hung around Maz’s apartment all day and tried to focus on his music. To his irritation, the paparazzi had snapped his picture as he walked through Heathrow Airport and were speculating why he was in London. For fuck’s sake. Couldn’t he take a domestic flight in peace? It deterred him from going out during the day, and he waited impatiently for Marianne to return.
She sent him a couple of apologetic texts, and came back close to eight o’clock. She was exhausted. They ordered in Chinese, but she only ate a little before falling asleep on the sofa.
Tuesday looked like a repeat of Monday, with Maz leaving early and being unavailable all day. Alex felt like a hamster stuck on a tiny wheel. In desperation, he booked a suite at the Ritz and moved there on Tuesday evening. He hoped Maz would join him, and they could have a decent dinner together. But no. She had to work late again. They chatted on the phone for ten minutes, but that was all.
By Wednesday, he was moping around the hotel, restless and utterly fucked off with the world. He listened to the tracks he was working on, but inspiration had left the building, and everything sounded flat and dull. He missed the beach, his house, and the open spaces of Rhosneigr. After eating real food at regular hours, thanks to Kate practically adopting him, he was hungry as well as bored. The Ritz did excellent food, but it was fancy. There was nothing to beat good home cooking.
London was noisy, and the weather was shit. Was anything going right?
He’d try again to coax Maz away from her job. If she didn’t have time to come see him, he’d take dinner to her. Only problem was his cooking skills were non-existent and he couldn’t face another takeaway.
It gave him the perfect excuse to phone Kate. She sounded delighted to hear from him, and Alex felt a pang of loneliness at her familiar voice.
She had a simple solution. Get over to Harvey Nicks, Selfridges, or even Harrods and buy a selection of chilled ready-to-cook dishes. He could buy some canapés that didn’t need cooking and make a feast very simply.
He laughed; it was so obvious when she pointed it out. “Kate, if you weren’t already married, I’d be knocking on your door.”
“You can knock on my door anytime.” She paused and her voice softened. “How are things between you and Marianne? Are you okay?”
“We’re fine. I’ve hardly seen her this week, though. She’s been working late every night, hence my request for advice on dinner.”
“I don’t suppose you’ve seen Jordan. Have you?”
“No, but if Maz’s hours are anything to go by, he’s probably equally busy.” It was Alex’s turn to hesitate before he spoke. “How is Louisa? And have you heard from Sylvie?”
“Lou’s not great. It’s knocked her completely sideways. She can’t decide if she wants to go back to Houston and get a divorce, or go down to London to confront Marcus. As for Sylvie, I don’t know where she is. Jordan said she was moving on, and that’s the last I heard.”
Alex’s heart sank. How he’d spoken to Sylvie on the beach nagged at him. He’d been angry and had taken his temper out on her. It wasn’t right, and he wished for a chance to apologise. He might never see her again. Thinking of Sylvie reminded him of the journo and the digital images Alex stole.
“Kate, I’ve another puzzle for you to solve. You know the little memory cards in cameras? The ones that store all the images? If you have one without the camera, do you have any way to
access the pictures?”
“Of course. There are shops on the high street—SnappyPrint and so on—and they have machines that let you print the images from the memory cards. They can show you how to do it. Or you can buy a card reader and connect it to your laptop. That was easy. Go on. Ask me another.”
He heard the laughter in her voice and smiled. He longed to ask her how to fix his confused love life, repair his shattered friendship with Sylvie, and restore his musical inspiration. He’d save those for another day. Instead, he thanked her, told her to call if she ever felt like a chat, and hung up.
SnappyPrint was as easy as Kate thought. The friendly assistant showed Alex how to insert the memory card in the machine, scroll through the images that were stored, and print the ones he wanted. There were over a hundred of them, and all date and time-stamped, with the earliest a week ago.
Alex scanned through the first images. No birds or shots of the R.A.F. jets that flew overhead. They were all pictures of people. God damn. Alex bet he was right with his first instinct; the guy was looking out for Alex’s hideaway. Fucking gutter press.
The viewpoint shifted periodically, and that would be in keeping with the guy moving around the beach. Alex scrolled faster through the images and found the days he walked on the beach with Sylvie. Odd—there were only a couple of snaps. The time the photographer showed any interest in his subjects was when Louisa appeared with Ted, and again with Kate and the two children. The final picture was of Alex and Sylvie talking on the sand. There was no digital record of her hasty kiss.
He wound back through the set of images and looked at them again. This wasn’t someone trying to find him, and it wasn’t photo-journalism. It looked more like surveillance.
Alex needed to talk to Jordan.
* * * *
Marcus knew he’d been a jerk to everyone, including Marianne, and he’d no idea how to fix any of it. He tried to talk to Louisa, but she refused to take his calls. She sent a text to say she was blocking him on Facebook, but that was the only contact he had. It was her way to stop him seeing new pictures of Ted, and that hurt.
