by Dave Edlund
“And you can help us access it?” Jim probed, not able to hide his skepticism.
“Look, I’ve been a programmer for the last two-plus decades, and my wife and I run a computer security consulting firm. Yes, I can bust through just about any firewall. I can get that data. You need me.”
Jim studied Gary, contemplating what he had said and, more importantly, considering what it might mean to the mission.
After a long pause, Jim sighed. “Okay, you’re in.” Then he mumbled, “I just hope I don’t later regret this decision.”
Jim turned away from Gary. “Bull!”
Bull jumped to his feet and was standing in front of Commander Nicolaou. “Sir.”
Nodding toward Gary, he said, “Make sure his bandage is tight and the stitches haven’t pulled loose. I don’t want him leaving drops of blood for anybody to find, especially within that facility.”
“Yes, sir!”
Chapter 25
Darfur
June 14 0130 Hours
“The fence isn’t electrified, and I don’t see any motion detectors on either side of it,” Ghost said. He and the rest of the team were outfitted with night vision goggles.
Jim simply nodded. He too had been carefully and deliberately scanning the outer-most perimeter fence for any indication that it was more than merely a wire fence. For whatever reason, the perimeter security was lax, comprised of only the nine-foot steel mesh fence topped with razor wire. The motorized patrol they had seen during the day was absent, as was one of the two-man patrols. Able to oversee the entire compound from the ridge, Coyote and Homer tracked the two roving foot patrols and guided Boss Man and his small team toward the perimeter wire.
Ghost cut a two-foot square door in the wire with heavy-duty wire cutters pulled from his fanny pack. He wrenched back the section of fence while Jim, Peter, and Gary crawled through, then eased himself through the opening before putting the section of fence back into place.
Without taking his eye away from his night-vision scope, Coyote spoke into his throat mic. “You are still clear, Boss Man. Both patrols are on the far side of the buildings from your position. Estimate you have three minutes—maybe four—before one of the patrols clears the buildings.”
“Roger.” Before Jim moved, he scanned the guard towers for any sign of activity. None was visible. He motioned for the team to move forward. In a low crouch, the four men scurried to the near wall of the target building—the one that appeared to be associated with the generators. There was no telling if the electrical power provided from the generator was distributed to all of the buildings or only some, but Jim figured they had to start their search somewhere.
With backs pressed tight against the wall, Jim looked to his right. That was the direction to the door they had seen from atop the ridge. Jim moved deliberately to the corner of the building, taking great care with every footstep to ensure sound footing and avoid noise.
He reached the corner and slowly peered around it… no guards. In fact, other than the two roving patrols, the covert team hadn’t observed anyone at all once night had fallen. Jim didn’t understand the lack of people, but he was grateful nonetheless. Ghost, Peter, and Gary all pulled up tight behind him.
Jim slipped around the corner and up to the door. It was a standard industrial steel door, hinged on the outside. The door was designed to deter burglars with a protective steel strike plate over the door jam and hinge pins that were welded in place. Although the SGIT team had plenty of options for defeating the door, they would all result in enough noise to awaken the building’s occupants.
An electronic card lock was mounted on the wall to the right of the door, designed to accept a credit-card sized key. Pointing at the electronic lock, Jim made a series of hand gestures and Ghost retrieved a credit-card shaped item from his fanny pack. A ribbon of wires extended out of one end of the card; the other end of the wire ribbon was attached to a small PDA-like device.
Ghost inserted the card into the slot at the base of the electronic lock and then typed some commands on the small keyboard on his device. Two lights flickered red momentarily, and then turned green. At the same time there was a soft click of the lock opening. Jim pulled gently on the handle and opened the door.
Extending before him was a long hallway that appeared to run the length of the building. Above the door was a dim light, probably an exit sign but with no wording, just the light. Down both sides of the hallway, as far as they could see, were doors, each with a small window centered on the door at eye level. All of the doors were closed. The hallway was stark—no signage, no posters, just plain white walls.
At first, Jim only stuck his head in the opened doorway. He was checking for security cameras and motion detectors. Surprisingly, there were none. He entered first and the rest of the team quickly followed.
“This is odd…” Jim commented in a low whisper, speaking more to himself than to the rest of the team.
Seeing the confused look on Peter’s face, Ghost translated. “We’d expect to find surveillance cameras, maybe motion detectors. It seems they’re not too worried about someone breaking into this place.”
Before Jim moved another step, he raised his H&K 416 rifle, tucking the butt stock up tight under his right arm. Ghost followed his commander’s lead and did the same with his AA12 automatic shotgun.
They moved forward twenty feet to the first door; it was on the left side of the hallway. While the team stood to the side tight against the wall, Jim slowly peered in the small center window in the door. With his NVG set he could clearly see in the room even though no lights were on. No one was present.
Reaching down, he tested the door—it was locked. To the right was another card lock. Jim motioned for Ghost to use the electronic lock pick system. Since the computer automatically tried the last successful combination, this time it took even less time to open the lock. “Probably the same code,” Ghost whispered.
The room was large, maybe 50 feet deep by 70 feet long and devoid of windows as well as other doors. This didn’t surprise Jim or Ghost since none of the buildings had windows visible from the ridge. A tiny amount of light was emanating from banks of computers and other electronic equipment that ran the length of the room in four rows. A faint electronic whir punctuated by an occasional click penetrated the silence.
“What do you make of this Peter?” Jim asked.
Peter was still trying to take it all in. He recognized some powerful computers, not simple PCs, but small mainframes. Peter walked to a nearby console. There were two monitors, both off, and a keyboard with Kanji characters, not English. Peter continued his examination of the room as Ghost and Jim followed him with their gaze.
Silently, Gary slipped away and settled in at a computer console with a standard QWERTY keyboard as well as what he assumed was a Chinese keyboard. He turned on the monitor and was immediately greeted by a prompt. Gary guessed it was for a password to access the system although he couldn’t read the foreign characters.
He removed a thumb drive from his ever-present PDA and leaned over, inserting the drive into one of three USB ports on the front of the CPU. A few seconds later another prompt appeared on the screen, this time in English. Gary entered a password and a simple command and then leaned back in the chair. Two minutes later the monitor flashed briefly and began rapidly scrolling through data, although it was all moving too quickly across the screen for Gary to understand what it was. He reached over and turned off the monitor.
Satisfied, Gary rose from his chair, removed his thumb drive from the USB port, and rejoined Ghost and Jim who were still gazing at Peter as he was systematically examining the electronic and computing equipment one row over.
“Here are dozens of lab books… all written in Chinese, Japanese, Korean… I can’t tell.” Peter sounded mildly frustrated.
He opened one of the notebooks and saw the date handwritten at the top of the page. “These are old entries. The optical scanner here is probably for archiving the data r
ecorded by hand years ago. However, that’s a very simple function and doesn’t explain even a tiny amount of the computing power we have in this room.”
“What would explain it?” asked Jim.
“I don’t know,” replied Peter. “Maybe modeling of complex chemical structures and reactivity, chemical and biological properties… that’s very intensive and requires a lot of computing power.”
“Okay, let’s move on and try the next door, shall we?” Jim was impatient; he wanted answers, not vague speculation, and time was limited.
They exited the computer room and crossed the hallway. As Ghost was electronically picking the lock, the team heard a low moan echoing down the hall. It was faint but definite. This was followed by a grunting sound, louder but still not in the immediate vicinity.
“What the hell is that?” Jim whispered. He looked around, and seeing no threat he entered the room as Ghost opened the door.
This room was almost as large as the computer lab, but it didn’t contain banks of computers. What they all saw made them shudder.
“What the…” Gary mumbled.
The area resembled a medical operating room. Spaced out before them were three large stainless-steel tables. Surgical tools—large and small scalpels, bone saws, clamps, an odd assortment of probes—were neatly arrayed on a tray next to each table. Hanging next to each table was a scale connected to a large pan. The pungent odor of alcohol and formaldehyde tainted the air.
Covering one entire wall was a bank of large stainless steel drawers. “I’m guessing those are cold storage lockers,” Peter suggested.
They walked to the bank of drawers and Peter opened the closest one. Empty. He opened the next; also empty. Jim had moved down the row and was checking drawers at the far end of the bank. All empty.
“So we have cold storage for bodies, and three operating tables.” Jim was checking off the list of clues.
“This isn’t an operating room; it’s a dissection lab,” Peter concluded. “I don’t see any life support equipment. No oxygen stubs, no EKG or ventilators. Plus, there’s that bank of cold storage drawers to keep the specimens fresh. Those hanging scales are for weighing organs.”
Jim was turning slowly as he listened, visually taking in every detail.
“Medical experimentation… in the middle of nowhere. What are you up to Ming?” Jim asked rhetorically, his voice barely audible.
He focused, drawing his mind back to the present and pushing away unsupported conjecture. He knew he needed to concentrate on facts. The more hard intel he could gather the better the odds that his team back at The Office in Sacramento would be able to piece together a complete picture.
“We need to know what records are kept here and why they need more computers than MIT has.”
Gary had a smug expression as he moved three steps closer to Jim and Peter so he could be heard easily. “The files are being transferred even as we speak to my server back home.”
Jim and Peter stared at Gary.
Gary nodded his head. “Really! The transfer shouldn’t take long; they have a high-speed satellite link.”
Jim glanced at Peter, then cleared his throat. “You’re sure…”
“Oh yes. I loaded a little virus I carry on this thumb drive,” and Gary removed the small memory device from his pocket, offering it as evidence. “It’s a fairly standard hacker tool, but I’ve modified it—improved it over the years. Basically, the virus overrides the password protection and firewalls before executing a simple program that causes all files to be copied to my server.
“The transfer signal is bounced off at least six international ISPs, so tracing the destination is all but impossible. That’s assuming they even discover that the files have been copied… highly unlikely. The virus deletes itself upon completion of the file transfer and resets system log time stamps to what they were prior to the payload hitting the system. Since it is also spoofing a network address, the additional network traffic won’t show up on any logs.”
“But there must be an enormous amount of data there,” Peter challenged.
“Most of it is text, so it doesn’t take up much space. Besides, I have terabytes of space available on my server. Even if I can’t collect all the files, there will be enough to keep an army of analysts working for months.”
“You did that when we were in the computer room?” Jim queried, still finding Gary’s story hard to believe.
“Yeah. The three of you were off looking at the rows of computers and other electronic equipment. It was easy.”
“I don’t believe it,” Jim said. “There wasn’t enough time; we were only in that room for a few minutes.”
Peter had been studying Gary, watching his expressions. “Oh, he did it all right,” interjected Peter. Turning to Jim, Peter continued. “You shouldn’t have doubted him back there on the ridge when you announced your plan to infiltrate this compound. Gary took it as a challenge. At least the way I’m keeping score, he’s one point up on you.” Peter and Gary were both smiling broadly now.
Jim scowled. “Whatever. So, if the files from that computing center have been copied over to your server, how can my team at The Office get a hold of them so they can start earning their pay?”
“Oh… that’s easy,” and Gary removed a business card from his wallet. On the front of the card was printed Gary’s name, business and email address, and phone number. He flipped the card over and wrote a short string of letters and numbers on the reverse side, and then he handed the card to Jim.
“Have your analyst go to my web site; the address is on the front of the card. In the search query box at the top right of the home page tell them to type in this password. It’s case sensitive. They will be granted access to everything on my server and can download it all.”
Jim read the password: PytHoN.357mag.
“You’re joking, right? Python dot 357 magnum is your password?”
“Why? Is it too obvious?”
Jim shook his head, “Oh, brother…”
Chapter 26
Darfur
June 14 0245 hours
In the communication center, a Peoples Liberation army private was sitting in front of a console covered with an array of multicolor LEDs—red, green, yellow, white. At the moment he was reviewing the communications log for the previous day; one of his duties was to initial and date the paper log next to each communication entry.
Because the private was preoccupied with this task, it was several minutes before he noticed a blinking yellow light in the lower center portion of the console display. Actually, a dozen or more lights were seemingly randomly turning on and off, but this one light was important since it indicated an active satellite communication channel was open.
The private put down the logbook and focused on this open communication link. Immediately he thought it odd since no messages were scheduled to be sent until 7:00 a.m. Given the very early hour of the morning, it was extremely unlikely that anyone would be sending a routine status report or request for supplies; the majority of external communications were related to these two topics. Colonel Ming always handled the sensitive communications directly, or so he was told.
After staring at the blinking light for several more minutes, the young private finally decided he should call the officer of the watch. He picked up a telephone handset recessed into the console. There was no keypad because the phone only connected to the watch officer. It rang seven times before a very groggy voice answered.
“Yes?”
“Lieutenant Xu. This is Private Tao in communications. One of the satellite communications lines seems to be active.”
“So? You woke me in the middle of the night just to tell me someone is sending out a message? I’ll have you washing floors for the next month!”
Private Tao’s voice raised an octave and he tried to control his mounting anxiety. “Sir! There are no communications scheduled until 0700 when the daily status report will be sent to Beijing.”
“Privat
e Tao. Did it ever occur to you that someone merely forgot to update your schedule log?”
“Yes, sir. But this is a very unusual activity. I rarely see satellite communications at 0250, sir. Procedure requires that I report that anomaly, sir!”
“Very well private. I will be there in ten minutes.” Lieutenant Xu slammed down the phone. The loud bang carried through the connection just for a moment before the line went dead, leaving Private Tao with second thoughts about calling his watch officer in the middle of the night.
When Lieutenant Xu entered the communication center, Private Tao was already on his feet standing at attention. He raised his right hand in a salute, his forehead glistening from perspiration.
Xu ignored the military protocol and stopped inches from Private Tao. The two men were of equal height and Xu glared into Tao’s eyes.
“Well, private?” said Xu in a voice that made it abundantly clear he was not at all amused.
Tao remained rigidly at attention, eyes locked forward. “Sir, the indicator light on the console… the channel has continued to be active since I reported to you.” It was all Tao could do to complete his report without his voice cracking.
Lieutenant Xu turned his head and looked at the communication status board. There were many lights coming on and off, but the three yellow LEDs, each indicating a separate satellite communication channel, were off.
Xu slowly returned his glare to Private Tao. “And exactly which indicator light are you referring to, Private?”
“The active channel indicator…” Tao’s voice fell off as he turned his head to the panel. All three indicator lights were dark.
“Sir! I swear! The left LED, channel one, was active! The light was illuminated when I reported the incident to you, sir!” Drops of sweat stung Private Tao’s eyes as they ran down his face.
