Richard Clarke - Sting of the Drone

“Right. This is your government advising you to stop your holiday shopping and hunker down because we think something may happen somewhere,” Burrell replied. “The Governor of Massachusetts called the President last night. The FBI has the Gov all spun up. He wanted to issue some sort of Red Alert.”

“What did you tell him?”

“Told him we don’t do colors anymore and for now he should just massively step up police presence and searches, keep hospital ERs fully staffed, but no announcement yet,” Burrell replied. “Told him we hoped to have more information on the plot today. Will we?”

“Maybe, but if we don’t, I would advise that some sort of announcement is going to be necessary later today. It may scare them away for now, give us more time. Or it may panic them into going early. No way to tell,” Ray admitted.

Hanging up the secure line, he turned to see Colonel Parsons busily running several drone missions. “You should be with your wife,” he said to Erik.

“She’ll be asleep for hours. Besides, I got work to do here,” Erik replied.

“Like what?” Ray asked.

Dugout looked at Erik. “Better tell him.”

“All right, but do not try to stop me,” Erik said to Ray. “I have a Global Reach on the way to Kiev and a Reaper en route to this place in Pakistan, DG Khan.”

Ray frowned at Dugout. “I geolocated the servers at the user ends of those VPNs,” Dug said. “The Kiev one is a complex that the CIA and FBI databases show as the warehouse headquarters of the Merezha cyber/narco cartel. It’s heavily guarded and they appear to have bought off the local police.”

“And the other place?” Ray asked.

“A villa outside of a city known as DG Khan. CIA carries it as the headquarters of the Qazzani clan. We did a Pattern of Life a few times before and it was all bad guys, but we never got the political clearance. State objected to hitting anything that deep into Pakistan.”

“Isn’t there also one in the U.S.?” Ray asked.

“It’s routed through Texas, but it’s really just north of Vegas, about five miles from where they were holding Jen. The Bureau and the SWAT guys are going to hit it right after dawn.” Dugout paused. “I asked them if I could go in after they cleared the place to do a first line exploitation on their computers. I’m already in the ones that are online, but they probably have some that aren’t always connected, or are never connected. Anyway, I got into the online ones.”

“Of course you did,” Ray said, sitting down.

“So, can I do it?” Dugout asked. “Can I go with the SWAT guys, I mean after the SWAT guys?”

Ray ran his hand through his hair. “Sure, why the fuck not, we’re about to break all sorts of rules.” He looked at Erik. “Colonel, did you know there’s already an IG investigation of you?”

“Yeah, but I understand they haven’t got anything on me. They asked me to take a voluntary polygraph,” Erik said.

“What’d you say?” Ray asked.

“I told them to get fucked. And then I figured I might as well do something they could actually investigate.”

Ray stared at the Big Board. He saw the Global Reach and the Reaper en route to their targets. “I don’t suppose anyone in Washington has approved those two flights?” No one answered.

“Didn’t think so,” he said to no one in particular.

“The ranch we’re going to hit at dawn?” Dugout said, changing the subject. “We just got this: there’s a mobile phone there that’s been calling another mobile about three miles from here. Narrowed it down to a high school, or near it.”

Ray stood up. “Gimme those coordinates and the number. We still have FBI guys out front. Maybe I’ll drive over there with them. Dugout, you go get out to that ranch and exploit the computers after the SWAT guys hit it.

“Erik, you moved up when Sandy died. You’re in charge here now. Do what you have to do. You’re familiar with the emergency protocol, right? It gives the GCC Director the authority to act in exigent circumstances. With Sandy gone that would be you. You just have to check with the most senior National Security official available. That would be me. And I judge that there is an imminent threat to the lives of Americans who could be killed in a series of terrorist attacks planned by the Qazzani cartel, working with the Merezha gang.”

Ray and Dugout walked to the exit together. “Take ’em out, Colonel, take the bastards out,” Ray said in a loud voice that everyone on the Ops Floor could hear. Then in a quiet voice he said to Dugout, “And let’s hope they haven’t already sent the go signal to their attack cells.”

TUESDAY, DECEMBER 22

COPPER HILLS RANCH

KYLE CANYON, NEVADA

“You’re up early, Mykola,” Yuri Poderev said as he stumbled into their computer room in his underwear. “Did you make the coffee yet?”

“I talked to Ghazi. He’s coming over later. This is probably A-Day,” Mykola replied. “I bet when he comes today, he tells us it’s time. Then I play with the DC Metro, and BART, and MARTA in Atlanta. Big day.”

Yuri stretched. “Did you make the coffee?” he repeated, as he walked into the dirty kitchen and found a fresh pot already made. As he began to pour the coffee, a loud alarm sounded, “Intruder! Intruder!” and then a series of loud blurts. Yuri poured the coffee on the floor, and on himself. He moved quickly back into the living room they had converted into their computer room.

“All the intruder sensors are going crazy,” Mykola said. “And the perimeter ones. Look at the cameras, there are SUVs on the road.”

“Pull out the hard drives. Smash them,” Yuri yelled, but by then they could both hear the loud rotors of a helicopter directly above the house. As a blindingly bright light shone through the window, there was a blast and the front door flew across the room, quickly followed by two, then four men in dark blue helmets and body armor, swinging automatic weapons with lights on them, wildly from left to right.

“Do not move, if you move you die!” one of the stormtroopers yelled. “All right now, arms out to your sides. Show me your palms. Open hands facing me. Now, slowly, down on your knees. Slowly, facedown on the floor. Do not breathe.” In seconds, Yuri and Mykola had their hands tied behind their backs and then their ankles laced together by a strong plastic belt. They heard a helicopter landing, but the light from another hovering aircraft still darted in and out of the window.

“It’s clear, bring him in,” one of the blue men said into a microphone on his helmet.

Dugout, wearing some of the blue body armor suit, walked gingerly through the blasted doorframe and struggled to take off his helmet. “Next time, I want the white suit. Which one of you guys is Vader?” he said to what were by then twelve body-armored blue men crowding the living room.

“I’m the senior FBI Special Agent on site,” one of the assault team members said dryly. “I am supposed to ‘facilitate your exploitation of the computers’ for an hour or so. Then we start ripping them out and taking them to our computer forensic lab.”

“I’ll tell you when they get ripped out,” Dugout said, sitting down at one of the chairs in front of a bank of three screens.

Two FBI agents in body armor were lifting Yuri off the floor and dragging him out of the house. Dugout spun around in his chair and pointed at two more agents about to drag Mykola out. “Hang on a minute.” He looked at Mykola. “I know you. Dovgo ne bachīlīs. Berlin, dah? ”

“I speak English,” Mykola replied. “Yes, it was Chaos Communication Congress, two years ago in Berlin. You spoke on finding flaws in encryption routines. Is that what you did? Is that how you found us?”