Peter Kirsanow - Second Strike

They proceeded at a moderate speed down Memorial Parkway past Arlington. Garin’s phone vibrated and he answered, putting it on speaker. It was Olivia. Though she sounded weak, Garin was relieved. He demanded that she put Congo on.

“Listen to me, Michael. This can’t wait. Hammacher was engaged by DARPA to design systems to prevent the hacking of aircraft—military, commercial, drones, anything.”

Olivia paused to catch her breath. “There are vulnerabilities in the air traffic control system. The FAA and others are patching them, but as soon as they do, it seems new ones appear. There are up to three thousand commercial flights being monitored at any given time, so to some extent, it’s like playing whack-a-mole.”

“Olivia, I’m following Bor as we speak. Give me the CliffsNotes version.”

“Before his death, Hammacher designed patches for vulnerabilities in GPS satellites, surveillance and broadband systems, and air traffic control centers, which the Department of Transportation implemented, in the main.”

“In the main. You mean, not completely.”

“Right. Congress had a battle over funding. I know, big surprise.”

Garin shook his head. “Is Bor somehow going to exploit these remaining vulnerabilities?”

“Based on all of the evidence, I think he intends to hijack commercial airliners.”

“By hacking air traffic control?”

“Yes and no. One attack could be directed at the air traffic control systems. Disrupting the routing of aircraft, creating havoc, possible crashes and midair collisions. Aircraft and air traffic controllers could be rendered blind. False images or locations of aircraft could appear or disappear on radar screens.”

“You mean like that hack in Sweden last year?”

“Precisely. We believe Mikhailov used that as a test run. Swedish air traffic control systems went completely off-line. Thankfully, nothing serious happened, just some flight cancellations until the system came back online.” Olivia was speaking rapidly.

“Why do you think Mikhailov, the Russians, were behind it? What evidence is there?”

“The lack of evidence is evidence. The Chinese, Iranians, usually leave some trace of their presence. The Russians, however, rarely, if ever, do. They’re that good.”

“So what’s Bor’s role in all of this? He’s not a cyberwarrior.”

“I think Bor is going to somehow attack aircraft directly.”

Garin, absorbed in what Olivia was telling him, noticed that he was now only two cars behind the Red Top cab. If Bor looked back, he’d easily recognize Garin. He slowed into the right lane and let other cars overtake him, placing more distance between himself and the cab.

“What does that mean?”

“I think Bor’s going to access the flight controls for individual aircraft.”

“He can’t, Olivia. No way. Cockpits are completely inaccessible these days. And protocols established since 9/11 prohibit pilots from opening the door in case, say, a terrorist threatens to kill a hostage.”

“He doesn’t have to get into the cockpit. He may be able to control the plane from the passenger compartment. That’s what DARPA engaged Hammacher to prevent.”

Garin slowed a bit and drifted farther behind Bor’s cab. “You’ve got my attention.”

“There’s controversy as to whether a passenger can take over flight controls with a laptop, but apparently DARPA was sufficiently concerned that they were paying Hammacher a huge sum to make sure it could never happen.”

“And you think Bor is capable of hacking flight controls? How would he do it?”

“From what I can gather it’s done by scanning and accessing the plane’s networks through the in-flight entertainment system. A passenger uses an Ethernet cable with a connection to a laptop or tablet computer. He removes the plastic cover to the seat electronic box that’s located under some of the seats—usually the one located under the seat directly in front of him. It’s easy to do—removing the cover, that is.”

“Slow down.”

She did, but barely. “Say he overwrites codes on the plane’s thrust management computer. He can give it a command to descend or climb. Or maybe he issues a command to descend or climb to just one engine. The plane would pitch or roll. Theoretically, then, he could hijack or crash the plane.”

The cab turned right. Garin sped up slightly to beat the changing traffic light and make the same turn. “It can’t be that easy,” he said. “Major airplane manufacturers leaving their systems so vulnerable some gamer could take over and fly the plane into Mount Whitney? They must have redundancies, interlocks, whatever you call it, to prevent someone from messing with a plane’s software while it is in the sky.”

“They do. But Hammacher says—said—they can be overridden.”

Ahead, the cab slowed to a stop at a traffic light. Garin tensed momentarily in anticipation of the possibility of Bor getting out, but he remained in the vehicle. Garin stayed several vehicles to the rear, his attention split between the cab and Olivia.

“Even so,” Garin argued, “wouldn’t instruments in the cockpit signal that someone was attempting to tamper with the plane’s network? I mean, wouldn’t the plane’s computer identify an attempted hack and counter it somehow?”

“Normally, yes. But if someone was sophisticated enough, he could create a virtual environment to evade the EICAS—to fool it. And this possibility had DARPA… I think the technical term is ‘freaked.’”

Garin nodded to himself. “If it was possible, it should have them freaked. But that’s just it. If someone could take over a plane by hacking its in-flight entertainment, DOT, FAA, and the airlines would also be freaked. But they’re not…”

Garin stopped, realizing his error and anticipating Olivia’s counter.

“And if they freaked it would be a disaster. Merely acknowledging the possibility would cause air travel to grind to a halt. No one would set foot on commercial aircraft. The Dow would crater. Commerce would be devastated.”

Ahead, Bor turned to look back. Garin ducked his head toward the dash, not completely, but enough to obscure his face without appearing conspicuously evasive. He hesitated a few moments before straightening.

“Michael, can you still hear me?”

“I can. Okay, even if I’m not completely persuaded by the Hammacher file, we now know with certainty that Bor is involved in something, as if we needed two suicide bombers to prove it. And the guy who made my ear ring said Bor would discharge a backup operation.” Garin followed the cab through a left turn. “I suppose you think he’s going to hijack a plane?”

“Yes.”

“Admittedly, that’s bad.”

“It gets worse.”

“Figures. Go ahead.”

“Commandeering a plane is bad enough, but that’s just the means to an end,” Olivia said, her cadence slowing. “Remember the sheet with the flight numbers?”

“He’s hijacking all ten?”

“Even worse. I checked the flight paths of all ten. Bor does only big things, right?”

“How bad is it?”

“This is a leap on my part, but I think Bor’s confederates are going to crash the airliners into critical infrastructure.”

“Like another 9/11?”

“No. He’s not just going to fly into buildings, as bad as that was and is. He’s going to fly them into nuclear power plants, oil refineries, and hydroelectric dams. Just a dip of the wings, a slight detour, and they’re there before fighters can be scrambled to intercept. Tens of thousands will be killed immediately. Ten times more eventually.”

Garin’s jaw clenched. His grip on the steering wheel tightened.

“And that’s just a distraction to keep us preoccupied,” Olivia continued. “The Russians have been engaged in movement of troops and a buildup of matériel throughout their western front—Baltics, Ukraine, even Poland. They’re also moving south in a pincer movement along the Caspian.”