Tim Washburn: Cyber Attack

Paige leans forward in her seat to look out Hank’s window. “Can’t see much from here. I wonder what type of plane it was.”

“No telling,” Hank says. “Let’s hope it’s not a Boeing triple-seven or an Airbus A380. If it was, the death toll will be somewhere north of five hundred.”

Paige settles back in her seat. “Even if it was one of those smaller planes, the death toll will still be significant. Can you imagine? All of those people lost in an instant.”

Hank glances at Paige. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but if this is some type of cyber attack I don’t think we’re done yet. Not even close.”

Page, Arizona

Upstream from its more famous cousin (Hoover Dam) and one of the nation’s most visited national parks (the Grand Canyon), the Glen Canyon Dam towers over the downstream side of the Colorado River. Built between the sandstone cliffs of Glen Canyon, the dam stands over seven hundred feet tall and required nearly five million cubic yards of concrete to construct when work was finished in 1963. The damming of the river created Lake Powell, the second-largest man-made reservoir in the United States. The largest reservoir resides farther downstream—Lake Mead, which was created with the construction of the Hoover Dam.

The control room inside the dam is a sparsely furnished place containing two desks, which are staged in the center of the large, circular room. The walls surrounding the desks contain an amalgamation of buttons, rotary dials, and old analog dial clocks that appear to be original equipment—which they are. There have been upgrades over the years though they’ve been few and far between. Although the dam contains eight massive hydroelectric turbines that turn twenty-four/seven, the room often contains only a single occupant. That’s because, today, after the last major upgrade, most of the dam’s operations are controlled off-site via computer in Montrose, Colorado.

Today’s lone occupant is twenty-four-year-old Brian Hunter, who is busy refining his résumé. His sole job is to act as the fail-safe—the one person who can operate the ancient levers and dials in case of an emergency. It’s a boring task and Hunter, dissatisfied with the job’s lack of stimulation, is on the hunt for a more challenging work environment. With a degree in hydrodynamics, he took the job with the U.S. Bureau of Reclamation hoping to explore the West and to help the western states manage their most scarce resource—water. But so far the only things he’s explored are the buttons, switches, and levers on the walls of the control room and the local bar scene.

Pen in hand, he scratches out a phrase in the previous employment section of his résumé and leans back in his chair and closes his eyes, deep in thought. He’s searching for the right word or combination of words—something other than monitoring —he can use to describe his present job duties. Moments later, the correct word is just on the tip of his tongue when an alarm bell begins ringing. His eyes snap open and he lurches to his feet, searching for the source. Lights on the far wall begin sparking to life just as the phone rings. Momentarily flummoxed, he stands transfixed as more bells begin ringing. He stares at the lights, then his eyes dart to the phone as a loud humming sound begins to penetrate the room. Finally, Hunter acts. He grabs the phone and can hear voices shouting in the background as he puts the handset to his ear. “Hello?”

“Brian, this is Dan McCoy in Montrose. You need to do an immediate manual shutdown of the turbines.”

Hunter drops the phone and it clinks to the floor as he races to the far wall and begins flipping switches to shut off the turbines, the humming only growing louder. His actions appear to be having little effect and he nearly pisses his pants when there’s a tremendous crash that sounds like a freight train plowing into a semi stalled on the tracks. Hunter hurries back to the desk and quickly reels in the phone. His hand is trembling when he puts the phone to his ear and says, “Turbine manual override is… is… inoperative.”

“Screw the turbines,” McCoy says. “They’re toast. Listen closely, Brian. The spillway gates are stuck open. You have to close them.”

“H-h-how?” Hunter asks, his entire body now quavering.

“Hit the emergency release. The gates are heavy enough they might close.”

Hunter hurries over to the near wall, stretching the phone cord to the limits. He slams the big red button with the palm of his hand. “I hit the emergency release.”

“Goddamn it,” McCoy shouts, nearly piercing Hunter’s eardrum. “You sure you hit the right button?”

“Yes. Wha… wha… what’s happening, Dan?”

“The damn computers are locked up. We’ve lost control.” McCoy sighs, sending a hiss of static down the line. “Okay, Brian. You need to grab who you can from the turbine room and go manually close the spillway gates.”

Hunter steps over to the observation window that looks out over the turbine room, the phone cord nearly strangling him. “Oh God. Oh God. Oh God. There’s… there’s… there’s blood… everywhere.” The phone slips from his grasp and rebounds off the desk just when the lights flash off.

Below, the spillway’s four 8-foot-diameter pipes are shooting out water at a rate of 208,000 cubic feet per second, or nearly 94 million gallons of water per minute.

—BREAKING NEWS—Nuclear power plant on verge of meltdown.

Residents around the Calvert Cliffs Nuclear Power Plant in Maryland are being ordered to evacuate. At the moment the cause of the accident is unknown. More details to follow…

—BREAKING NEWS—All air travel halted after a series of deadly accidents.

Investigators are scrambling to find the cause for several deadly airline crashes that have occurred across the United States. All commercial flights have been grounded until further notice. More details to follow…

Dulles

Hank and Paige finally make it to the turnoff to the terminal only to find the exit blocked by two state troopers, their cars parked diagonally across the asphalt. Hank rolls down the window and holds up his credentials. The closest trooper climbs out of his car and walks over for a look. He glances at the badge and nods at the other trooper to move his car. “Any idea how the crash happened?” he asks Hank.

“Not yet,” Hank answers, “but you’re probably in for a long day.”

“Tell me about it,” the trooper says. He steps back and waves Hank forward.

At least with the roads blocked there is no incoming traffic, but that changes the closer they get to the terminal building. Hank weaves the Mustang through an obstacle course of emergency vehicles and pulls in behind a police car parked near the entrance to baggage claim. After killing the engine, he pulls a placard with FBI printed on it from the back pocket of the passenger seat and tosses it onto the dash.

“What now?” Paige asks. “Are we heading out to the tower?”

“No, the airport’s servers are in the basement of the terminal building.”

“How do you know that?”

Hank shrugs. “Read it in a report, somewhere.” Hank’s phone dings and he pulls it out of his pocket to see a text from Mercer. “I hate to say I told you so, but I told you so.”

“What happened?” Paige asks.

“Appears the hackers hit a dam.”

“Which one?”

“Glen Canyon Dam.”

“Damage?”

“Plenty. Worst thing is the floodgates are stuck open.”