Tim Washburn - Cyber Attack

They pass the City University of New York and several hospitals, and they’re now on the homestretch, only three blocks from the heliport when they walk past a looted restaurant and hear a woman screaming inside. Paige comes to an abrupt halt but Hank never misses a stride. Paige hurries to catch up and grabs Hank by the elbow, pulling him to a stop. “Aren’t you going to do something?”

“What? It’s not our fight, Paige. Besides, we’ve got a helicopter waitin’.”

“You’re just going to walk on by?”

“Yeah.”

“That is not acceptable, Hank,” Paige says, stomping her foot. “Give me your damn gun and I’ll go.”

“You can’t have my weapon.”

“Then get your ass in there and stop it.”

“We don’t even know what it is. How do you know it’s not some people playin’ around?”

“Did that sound like a woman”—Paige makes air quotes—“ ‘playing around’? Huh? Did it?”

When Hank doesn’t answer, she says, “Then I’ll go handle it without your damn gun.” Paige turns on her heel and Hank grabs her by the arm.

“Stop it.” He sighs. “Stay here.”

Hank walks back to the restaurant and tries to get a peek inside. The automobile headlights do a decent job lighting the street and sidewalk but very little of that light spills into the surrounding buildings. He can see some movement inside yet little else. Then the woman screams again—a heartbreaking wail that spurs Hank into action. The restaurant appears to be fairly shallow, but other than the woman who’s screaming, he doesn’t know if there are two or twenty people inside. Access isn’t a problem because all of the glass has been shattered and it now litters the sidewalk, making a silent approach impossible. Hank draws his weapon, pulls out the flashlight, and sidles up to the edge of the building.

The only safe approach, Hank reasons, is to hit it hard and fast. After taking a deep, calming breath, Hank steps over the lower glass frame, brings his weapon up, and clicks on the flashlight. What he sees makes him both nauseous and furious. Two men have a young girl bent over a table, her skirt puddled on the floor. One of the men, his trousers around his ankles, has his hand on the girl’s neck, grinding her face against the table surface while the other stands behind her, his dick in his hand. And that’s exactly how he dies. Hank doesn’t shout a warning, or FBI , or anything. He pulls the trigger twice and the man behind her drops to the floor. Hank swings the gun left and double taps the second man in the forehead. It’s all over in about five seconds.

Hank turns his head to the side and shouts for Paige. When she arrives, Hank steps outside and replaces the partially used clip for a new one. Several minutes later, Paige helps the now dressed sobbing young woman outside and Hank’s anger burns hotter when he sees that the girl is maybe fourteen years old at best. Paige wraps her arms around the girl and spends several minutes trying to comfort her. Eventually the sobbing subsides enough to find out the girl lives in an apartment building just up the street. Other questions about how she ended up in the restaurant or how long she’d been there go unasked—they’re pointless questions and the answers aren’t going to change what happened.

Hank and Paige walk the girl home and continue on to the heliport in silence. Paige doesn’t ask about the shootings and Hank doesn’t ask for any specifics about the girl’s injuries. Both know exactly what happened.

They find the promised helicopter waiting and climb inside. The pilot revs up the engine, and seconds later the chopper lifts off with Hank staring out one window and Paige staring out another, both wondering about evil and why it exists and, in the back of their minds, both are wondering what’s next.

Somewhere near Boston

Hassan Ansari sighs when he loses the link to the USS Stark again. This is the second time the crew has taken the ship off-line, and now that he has lost access to the ship’s onboard cameras, he can only assume that they’ve powered the ship down. He doubts they’re dumb enough to bring the weapons online a third time, so he makes a note to check on the ship later, once it’s closer to port.

Hassan leans back in his chair and takes off his glasses, giving his eyes a momentary rest. He spots Nazeri pacing on the other side of the room, talking on the one landline phone in the building—a phone that Nazeri unplugs and keeps under lock and key when he’s not using it. Hassan wonders whom Nazeri is talking to and whether their discussion concerns his fate and that of his fellow students. He replaces his glasses and leans forward, opening a program Jermar created that allows the five to communicate inside an encrypted chat window and away from Nazeri’s prying eyes. At this point, Hassan doesn’t trust Sheezal and he decides to leave him out of this chat. Hassan types: We need to know whom Nazeri is communicating with and what is being discussed.

Jermar replies first: Hack phone company?

Yuusef joins the conversation: Be easier to tap the phone line here. We need another phone. Check all the closets?

I will do it, Raahim types, now back from his short nap. Cover for me.

Raahim stands and heads for the door to the corridor just as Nazeri hangs up the phone and shouts, “Where are you going, Raahim?”

Raahim stops and turns, saying, “I’m still not feeling well. I think some fresh air will help.”

Nazeri points at the window. “Open that if you want fresh air.”

“I would prefer to walk around outside for a moment,” Raahim says.

“And I would prefer you stay here,” Nazeri says.

“Are we not allowed outside anymore?” Raahim asks.

“What is it with you, Raahim?” Nazeri asks. “You just returned from a nap and now you want to go for a walk? We are behind schedule. You will sit down at your computer and resume your work.”

Raahim crosses his arms in defiance. “Or what?”

Nazeri reaches behind his back and pulls out a pistol, and all five of the hackers gasp. He holds the pistol up high for all to see and says, “Playtime is over. Everyone back to work.”

Raahim returns to his seat as the others, eyes wide, continue working. Hassan is not that surprised that Nazeri has a weapon and it only strengthens his resolve to discover more about the man and whom he is working for. He opens a web browser and searches for phone providers in the area. He finds three companies and he clicks open their websites. Infiltrating the companies is not a problem, but without the specific phone number he’s shooting in the dark.

Stuck, Hassan closes the browser and pulls up the team’s list of targets. As he scans the list, his sour stomach roils. It’s a smorgasbord of death and destruction that includes additional power grids, chemical plants, dams, nuclear power plants, and oil refineries. And that’s just on the first page. From there it’s on to the water treatment plants, sewage facilities, and other vulnerable infrastructure elements.

Hassan leans back in his chair, thinking. After several moments, he opens a new chat window and, again, takes Sheezal off the list of participants. He types: Jermar, can you hack Nazeri’s computer?

Jermar responds: Remotely?

Hassan nods as he types: Yes. Can you do it? They all have excellent computer skills, but Jermar’s hacking ability is a thing of beauty.

Sheezal, working on power grids, proudly announces that another power outage is on the way.

“Where?” Hassan asks.

“The Midwest,” Sheezal says, smiling.

Hassan frowns as he glances down at his screen to see Jermar’s answer pop up in the chat window: If he is signed on to the network, maybe. I will try.