Tim Washburn - Cyber Attack

“I understand, Captain Butler, but be forewarned that most of the men you’ll encounter inside would kill you at the blink of an eye without any hesitation.”

“I understand, but that doesn’t change my stance. Tell your two men with the keys to be ready.” Butler turns and walks away. He calls the men going inside together for a few final words before telling them to get into position. As they file away, Butler looks for Walter, the corrections officer. He spots him with the group of prison officials and walks over. “Walt, can I borrow your radio?” Butler asks.

Walter hands it over and Butler keys the transmit button and says, “Officer Darnell, are you there?”

A moment later Darnell replies. “I’m still here, Captain.”

“Sit tight. We’ll be entering the prison in thirty seconds. Do you still have your weapons?”

“Locked and loaded, sir.”

“Good. Butler out.” He hands the radio back to Walter and starts walking toward the entrance. Then he stops and turns around. “Walter, can I borrow your radio for a while?”

“Of course, Captain.” Walter hands the radio back to Butler, who clips it on his belt.

Butler retraces his steps and walks up to the entrance. He doesn’t have butterflies in his stomach—it feels more like a hawk has taken flight instead. He takes a deep, calming breath as he joins his forces that are bunched up near the door. After one final deep breath, he says, “Remember your assignments, men. Go, go, go.”

Somewhere near Boston

Hassan Ansari looks at the clock in the right-hand corner of his computer screen then checks the position of the satellite. He’ll have access to the ship soon. For computing power to carry out their attacks, the five Ph.D. students hacked their university’s supercomputers and installed a back door that allows them administrator-level access. They tested it out over the previous few months to see if their activities would be discovered or if it raised any red flags and neither happened. They’re certain because, as advanced students in computer-related fields, they receive e-mails and notifications from their universities about attempted intrusions, viruses, or other events that might harm the school’s computer networks. So far there has been no mention of their activities. To mask their location, they are using a secure VPN that Nazeri has access to and from there the signals are routed through other servers all over the world.

Hassan might feel a tad squeamish about killing innocent civilians but he has no such qualms when it comes to an American warship launching missiles at one of their own naval bases. He has no idea how much damage Norfolk has sustained, but he hopes whoever is running the ship will bring the weapons back online. Either way, he’ll know in a few minutes.

Hassan stands and stretches and decides to use the restroom while he’s up. Standing in front of the urinal, he looks up when Yuusef opens the door and slips inside. Hassan finishes up and the two huddle near the sink. Having found two cleverly disguised pinhole cameras in their sleeping quarters, Hassan is wondering if Nazeri has placed listening devices in the restroom. Just in case, he turns on the water and he and Yuusef talk in muted whispers.

“What are we going to do about Nazeri?” Yuusef asks.

“I do not know,” Hassan says. “I think he has a different exit strategy for us than the one we have been discussing among ourselves.”

“What do you mean?”

“Once this is over he no longer has a use for us.”

Yuusef’s eyes widen. “What are you suggesting?”

Hassan leans against the counter. “The easiest thing for him would be to cut the loose strings. Yes, we are all participants, but we are also witnesses to his involvement.”

“We know nothing about him. What threat are we to him?”

Hassan debates telling Yuusef about the pictures he’d snapped of Nazeri and decides against it. “How do you see this ending, Yuusef?”

Yuusef shrugs. “I thought we would all go our separate ways.”

Hassan shakes his head. “We are all criminals now, Yuusef. Murderers. Nazeri’s worst fear would be that one of us gets captured and points the finger at him.”

“You believe he is going to kill us?”

Hassan nods. “Our only hope is to get away before he can.”

“How long do you think this will last?”

“I do not know. The sooner we leave, the better.”

“Tonight?” Yuusef asks.

“Maybe. In the interim, continue with your tasks.” Hassan turns off the water. “I’ll leave first and you wait a few moments before coming out. Nazeri does not need to know we have been talking.”

Yuusef nods and Hassan slips out of the bathroom. When he returns to his computer he discovers that the satellite window is now open, allowing him access to the USS Stark ’s computer systems. He sits, cracks his knuckles, and pulls up the coordinates for Naval Station Norfolk again as he waits for the ship’s onboard cameras to come online.

North Atlantic Ocean

The first few minutes of the live-fire exercises go off without a hitch. The computer is tracking targets with precision and the large 155-mm rounds from the deck guns are obliterating the targets. Over at the weapons station, a tiny caterpillar of doubt is trying to worm its way into Lieutenant Griffin’s head. Had I been doing something wrong? The more he thinks about it, the more he wonders. But then he replays the earlier event in his mind. The weapons went wacky the moment they were initialized. Why then and not now? Griffin turns to his computer and scrolls through pages of computer feedback on the weapons’ operations. The deck guns are working exactly like they were designed to do. He glances up to see a grinning Admiral Malloy walking toward him.

“Mr. Griffin, let’s try a missile or two,” Malloy says.

“Yes, sir,” Griffin says. Hoping to make the selection more difficult and to buy a little more time, Griffin refers to the weapons using their full designation. “Which missiles, Admiral? The RIM-66M Standard Missile, the RIM-162 Evolved Sea Sparrow, the RUM-139 anti-submarine, or the BGM-109 Tomahawk?”

Malloy places a hand on his chin, playing it up for all it’s worth. “Umm, let me see. Not the Tomahawks. Let’s be creative. We’ll fire a standard missile and then a few seconds later a Sea Sparrow to track and kill the first missile. Sound good, Mr. Griffin?”

“Yes sir,” Griffin replies. “Give me a minute to set it up, sir.”

“Notify me when ready,” Malloy says before turning and walking away.

Griffin grinds his teeth as he enters the launch sequence for the missiles. Once that’s completed, he ducks down behind the bank of monitors and picks up a ship’s phone and makes another call to Captain Hensley, who is back in his stateroom, under guard. Hensley picks up on the second ring. “What’s happening with the weapons, Griff?”

“Nothing unexpected.” Griffin scans the area to make sure Malloy isn’t hanging around before lowering his voice. “Did we screw something up during the initial exercise, Captain?”

“Tell me what you think,” Hensley says.

“I don’t know, Cap. I don’t think we did, but it all happened so fast.”

“Remember during the event when the computer wouldn’t respond to any of your input?” Hensley asks.

“Yeah, I do remember. But why is everything working so flawlessly now?”

“I’ve been contemplating that exact question as I watched the video feed. The only thing I can think of that makes any sense whatsoever is that either the hackers can’t access the ship’s computers or the event was a one and done.”