Tim Washburn - Cyber Attack

“Do we have a ride?” Paige asks, sliding her laptop into her bag and standing.

“Yeah, someone from the Baltimore field office is pickin’ us up and drivin’ us down to Fort Meade.” Hank glances out the window at the terminal building. “Why do you think the hackers haven’t hit Baltimore yet?”

“No idea. I haven’t been able to figure out if there’s a method to their madness. You can bet they have access to the computer networks, but why they’re choosing to crash some power grids and not others is a mystery.”

“Think it’s significant?”

Paige shrugs. “No clue. You told me earlier that we’d eat and we’d sleep. We’ve eaten. When do we get to sleep?”

“Yet to be determined.” Hank grabs his bag and slings it over his shoulder as Michelle Miller lowers the jet stairs.

“Hank, are you two headed to Meade?” Michelle asks.

“Yeah.”

“Mind if we tag along?”

“Not at all. Are you two bunkin’ at the base hotel?”

“I guess. Power’s out at my place in D.C. and we couldn’t get to Carlos’s place even if we tried. Anyway, we have a flight scheduled out of here in the morning so we’ll make it work. Give us a couple of minutes to finish and lock up.”

“Will do.” Hank walks down the stairs and takes a deep breath, picking up a hint of the ocean in the briny breeze blowing off Chesapeake Bay to the east. Located twelve miles south of downtown Baltimore, the airport sees a lot of traffic from Fort Meade, which is located only ten miles down the road. Paige climbs down the steps and joins him.

She looks down at her ruined clothing. “I wished I had another outfit.”

“I don’t think anyone’s goin’ to care what you’re wearin’.”

“I know. Maybe Natalie will let me borrow something from her locker.”

“That’ll work. You two are about the same size.”

“She’s a little bigger on the top end.”

Hank takes a moment to study Paige. “Maybe.” That statement gets Hank an elbow in the ribs.

Michelle and Carlos climb down, fold up the stairs, and lock up the jet. They walk around to the front of the building and pile into the idling Suburban at the curb for the short drive to the base. Once there, they badge their way past the guards and drop Michelle and Carlos at the hotel before the driver drops them off at the National Security Agency. They quickly discover their badges aren’t sufficient to get them inside the building and they wait while the guard makes a call to their host. A minute or two later, Natalie Lambert arrives to escort them inside. After clearing security—Hank had to relinquish his weapon and both surrendered their phones and backpacks—Natalie gives them both a hug before leading them to the elevator. They take the elevator down and exit, walking down the corridor to a plain wooden door absent of signage. Natalie positions her face in front of a nearby retinal scanner and the door pops open and they enter into a large workspace brimming with people.

It’s not the NSA’s National Security Operations Center, but there are enough computers, video monitors, and televisions inside to fully stock a half a dozen sports bars. Natalie leads Hank and Paige to her desk and pulls up two extra chairs. Hank’s butt has barely touched the seat when Natalie launches into her spiel about what they’ve discovered so far about the malware.

Hank holds up a hand to stop her. “Do we have any idea about who’s behind the hacks?”

“Not yet,” Natalie says. “They’re clearly spoofing and are routing their attacks through servers all over the world.”

“How long before we get a bead on them?” Hank asks.

Natalie sighs. “I don’t know, Hank. Maybe never.”

Hank leans forward in his chair. “That’s not goin’ to work for me, Nat.”

Natalie throws her hands up. “I’m sorry, Hank. Right now we’re focusing on how to stop the malware from spreading and how to eradicate it.”

Hank won’t let it go. “They’ve hacked a navy ship at sea. The only way they can do that is via satellite.”

Natalie thinks about that for a moment. “Good point.” She lifts the desk phone and makes a call to someone else inside the agency. She passes on Hank’s suggestion, listens for a moment, and hangs up. “Signals is going to attempt to find your satellite. But don’t get your hopes up yet, Hank. I can guarantee you they’re spoofing their communications, too.”

Hank leans back in his seat. “All we can do is try.”

“Agreed. Now, can I continue with our findings?” Natalie asks.

“Please,” Hank says, smiling. He listens with one ear as Natalie continues. He’s competent with a computer, but Paige and Natalie operate on an entirely different level. Mentally, he runs through the list of the hackers’ targets, trying to find other avenues of investigation. Could they be using cellular networks to carry out their attacks? He mulls that over for a few minutes.

Hank interrupts Natalie again to ask another question. “Would these hackers be workin’ together as a group? For instance, would they be together inside a single facility?”

“I would think so,” Paige says.

“They don’t necessarily have to be,” Natalie says. “They can communicate online.”

“I think that’s too risky,” Paige says. “These people are extremely clever. They know we are capable of intercepting their communications. I believe, for security reasons, they are working within the same physical space.”

“But there are a hundred different ways to communicate online without being swept up in the NSA’s nets,” Natalie says, turning to look at Hank. “What do you think, Hank?”

“I agree with Paige. It’s a much simpler process if they’re workin’ together as a group. And it eliminates the threat of havin’ their communications intercepted. I have a couple more questions and then I’ll let you two get back to work. How many people are we talkin’ about?”

“I think a dozen or less,” Natalie says. “It’s extremely difficult to keep anything secret if you have more people than that.”

“Paige?” Hank asks.

“Natalie’s right. Initially, there could have been a large number of people involved, but once they hit the operational phase, the fewer people, the better.”

“Last question,” Hank says. “Do you think they’re havin’ external communications with someone on the outside who’s callin’ the shots? Or is it all in-house?”

Natalie grabs a strand of her honey-colored hair and wraps it around her index finger. “I don’t think we have enough information to hazard a guess. I do think they had a game plan going in. It could be they’re just sticking to the script.”

“Even if they are communicating with someone on the outside,” Paige says, “you can bet they’ve covered their tracks.”

“Unless they make a mistake,” Hank says.

“I wouldn’t count on these people making many mistakes,” Natalie says.

Hank runs a hand through his dark, wavy hair. “We don’t need many. In fact, I’d settle for just one.”

Chicago

Peyton takes a sip of wine and studies her friend over the rim of the glass as Eric finishes his story about how he was wounded. It’s obvious Allison’s having second thoughts about inviting them to stay after finding out the power could be off for an extended period of time. And Peyton can’t blame her. She knows how empty her own pantry was before the house burned to the ground. But the thought of trekking all the way to her mother’s house in Champaign makes her ill. Peyton drains the last of her wine and, deciding she’s had enough, sets the glass aside and asks Allison, “Where’s Jordan this week?”