Tim Washburn - Cyber Attack

The chlorine smell is stronger near the ground and she struggles to think why that’s important. But she can’t put her finger on it with her thoughts laser-focused on Dylan and his friends. She stands, sucks in a lungful of air, and regrets it immediately when her lungs begin to burn like she’d swallowed a flaming torch. She tries three shallow breaths and pushes through the crowd, nearly tripping over an older couple writhing on the ground. Her first instinct is to stop and help them, but her maternal instincts prevail and she sidesteps the two, elbowing her way forward. Finally, she reaches Dylan to find him kneeling and coughing uncontrollably. She does a quick head count of the other boys who are kneeling around her son.

Nine.

“Who’s missing?” Missy shouts.

She counts again, this time really looking at the boys’ faces. “Liam? Where’s Liam?”

Could he still be over by the food court? While her mind spins with possible locations where Liam might be, she’s hit with a sudden thought from moments ago. She grabs Dylan by his arms and lifts him to his feet. “All of you, stand up.” She pivots from boy to boy, helping them all to their feet. She scans the park then squats so she can look the boys in the eyes. She waits for a momentary break in the coughing. “We have to climb to the top of the water-slide tower.” She looks from one boy to another. “Understand?”

Those able to nod, do, and she begins herding them toward the tower.

“Liam?” Dylan asks, his voice raw.

“I’ll find him, but I need all of you at the top of the tower first.”

Dylan nods and reaches for his mother’s hand.

Wading through the crowd like a rugby scrum, they finally reach the water slide that towers over the park. On a normal day, the line of waiting riders would stretch from the top of the tower to the kiddie pool two hundred yards away.

But today is far from normal.

Missy orders the boys to climb and they begin slowly ascending. Missy waits until they reach the top of the tower, then turns and hurries onward, wondering where Liam could be. When she reaches the other side of the kiddie pool area, there’s another tremendous explosion that is so large Missy is hit with the pressure wave a second later. It’s as if the explosion has sucked all of the oxygen out of the air, and Missy is struggling for the tiniest breath. Stopping, she leans against the wall of the Shake Shack. She does have the presence of mind to glance over her shoulder to make sure the boys on the tower are okay. Her eyes are watering and stinging so severely, all she can see are shapes, but from what she can tell they’re still there. Missy pushes off the wall and continues on, desperate to find Liam.

A few moments after the second explosion, the chlorine smell increases tenfold and Missy’s seared lungs begin to falter. Staggering forward, she has to grab on to the back of a chair to keep from falling. It feels as if someone has put an ignited blowtorch up her nose and Missy’s vision is now so awful it’s like looking through a pair of glasses smeared with Vaseline.

Missy staggers forward another few steps and trips over something that sends her crashing to the ground. After several moments spent trying to regain her strength, she rolls over to see what she’d tripped over and discovers it was a person. What little she can see of the colors on the swimsuit triggers something in her brain. Burning through the last of her energy, she pulls herself over to the body. She leans in until she’s six inches from the person’s face and discovers it’s Liam. She tries to reach out to feel for a pulse, but her synapses begin to misfire and she becomes confused. She rolls over on her back, her entire body feeling like it’s on fire. All Missy wants now is to die.

And that’s exactly what happens a moment later when her throat swells shut, sealing her airway.

Cruising at an altitude of 35,000 feet

Hank doesn’t know which government agency actually owns the Gulfstream G550 they’re currently cruising in on their way to Manhattan, nor does it really matter. Although he’s flown on this aircraft multiple times, this jet, the newest in the fleet, is usually reserved for the bigwigs, like the director of Homeland Security or high-ranking congressional members. As such, the jet has all the trappings of a well-appointed living room, including Wi-Fi, satellite television, a well-stocked galley kitchen and bar, and comfortable, plush leather recliners. Paige and Hank raided the kitchen earlier and scored a couple of fresh sandwiches the crew had brought on board for them. Now sitting on opposite sides of the aisle, they’re sharing a bag of kettle-cooked potato chips and sipping diet sodas with CNN on the television, the audio muted.

“I thought you were calling some of your contacts to get us a few new software toys?” Paige says around a mouthful of chips.

Hank grabs a chip from the bag, pops it in his mouth, and chews. “I am. I’m tryin’ to decide who’d be best to call.” Hank hands the chip bag to Paige and digs out his phone. After pulling up his contacts, he begins scrolling through the list. He knows the person he wants to call at the NSA, but the last time they were together things didn’t turn out so well. He scrolls to the name anyway and pauses, debating. “What’s the worst that could happen?” he mumbles as he touches the phone number.

The call is answered after four rings. “What?”

“Hey, Natalie. Long time, no talk.”

Paige glances up when Hank mentions the name.

“You’re not telling me anything I don’t know, Hank,” Natalie Lambert says, her voice dripping with venom. “What do you want, Hank?”

“Come on, Nat, don’t be like that.” Natalie is a computer programmer at the NSA.

“How would you feel if I didn’t show up for a dinner and left you sitting at the restaurant?”

“I got called away.”

“Yeah, well. They have these devices called telephones, Hank. Have you heard of them?”

“I believe I’m talkin’ on one right now,” Hank says. He gives Natalie a moment to cool down. He really had tried to call, but trying to get a cell signal on a helicopter is hit or miss.

“You could have at least called the next day to explain.”

“I was on assignment. And if you’ll recall, I did try to call when I returned but someone wasn’t answerin’ her phone.”

There’s a long pause and then Natalie sighs. “Okay, let’s start over. Hi, Hank.”

“Hi, Natalie.”

“Okay, that’s better. Now, what do want, Hank?”

“You guys workin’ on the hackers?”

“That’s all we’re working on at the moment, even though we can’t do shit until we get access to some of the software.”

“C’mon, Natalie, this is me you’re talkin’ to. If you want access you can get access.”

“It’s different on this, Hank. The higher-ups are being real squirrelly about it. They want everything done all nice and legal like.”

“Huh. What’s that indicate to you?”

“I can’t say over the phone, but you can figure it out.”

Hank thinks about it a moment and the only thing he can think of is that Natalie is suggesting an insider may be involved. “That makes no sense and, frankly, I don’t believe it. Most of those people want to steal classified information so they can release it to the world and get their fifteen minutes of fame.”

“I don’t know, Hank. Something’s going on.”

“Strange. Hey, we did a little pokin’ around in…” Hank pauses, trying to frame his statement, knowing the conversation is being recorded “Well, I’ll let you guess, but we didn’t find much. My partner suggested the malware might have self-destructed.”