Tim Washburn - Cyber Attack

Hank shrugs. “Hey, at least you got them on.”

“I’m glad you find that humorous, asshole.”

They make their way to the van in search of the guy running the show and find him sitting at the rear of the truck watching a video feed from the exterior of the building. He stands and steps down out of the van. “Hank Goodnight, as I live and breathe.”

“How ya doin’, Cliff?” Hank asks, extending his hand.

“Just waiting on you, Hank,” the man says, pumping Hank’s hand.

“Cliff, meet Paige Randall from cyber. Paige, this is Supervisory Special Agent Clifton Reiley from the agency’s Critical Incident Response Group.”

Once the introductions are finished they get down to business. “What do we know, Cliff?” Hank asks.

“We tried a camera under the door but they’re in a different room inside the building. So we put the drone up and grabbed some video footage through a grimy-ass window. We did a thermal scan and counted eight living bodies inside.”

“Did you run the photos through the NextGen ID system?” Hank asks.

“Quality’s not good enough. Climb up in the van with me and you can watch the video,” Reiley says.

“Is the drone still up?” Hank asks.

“No. We recorded video of the entire exterior of the building. What else you looking for?”

“Did you cover the roof?” Hank asks.

“Hey, this ain’t my first rodeo. Of course we videoed the roof. It might be our best entry point.”

“Did you scan for wireless networks, Cliff?” Paige asks.

“Yep. They have one, but good luck getting access to it.”

“Encrypted?” Paige asks.

“Yeah, by something my tech guy says he’s never seen before. You’ll have to talk to him. I struggle to keep my damn e-mail working right. Let’s go look at the video.”

Paige and Hank follow Reiley up the back steps and into the van. After watching the various video feeds, Hank sits back in his chair. “Did it look like those three armed men are guardin’ the safety of the hackers or are they guardin’ the hackers themselves?”

“That’s an interesting way to look at it,” Reiley says, rocking his chair back. “Are you saying those young guys are being coerced?”

“Maybe not originally. Remember, this thing had to be in the works for years. Be hard to ride herd on a group of folks over that length of time. It could be one or two got skittish once the people began dying. But, someone in there sent out an SOS when they logged on to the satellite from inside that buildin’. Will you play the interior footage one more time?”

Reiley does a double take. “Hell, Hank, is that brain of yours drying out? I don’t ever remember playing a video for you more than once.”

“I’m lookin’ for confirmation, Cliff. I know what I saw, but I didn’t get a real clear look. Any audio?”

“We’re trying, but there doesn’t seem to be a lot of talking going on in there,” Reiley says, running back through the video that’s stored on the hard drive. He stops on the interior shots from the drone and hits play. Inside are five people scattered out around a large table similar to one you might find at a church potluck. There’s nothing fancy about the table or the fold-out chairs they’re sitting in. Three other men, their rifles slung over their shoulders, are positioned around the room in a crescent-shape formation.

Hank leans forward. “Stop. Can you zoom in on that face?” he asks, pointing at the screen.

Reiley works the trackball, pushes some buttons, and the man’s face fills the screen.

Hank points at the face and says, “His name is Hassan and he’s originally from Pakistan. He never told me his last name, but when I met him he was a student at MIT.

“Where did you meet him?” Paige asks, amazed at Hank’s recall—again.

“An Internet security conference two years ago. We had a brief conversation about various encryption methods. Nice guy. I can’t believe he’s tangled up in this mess.” Hank startles when his phone buzzes in his pocket. He pulls it out and lights the screen. “Uh-oh, a 911 text from Mercer to call. Paige, visit with Cliff about a plan. I want you inside the buildin’ as soon as it’s cleared to preserve as much evidence as possible. And we know these guys love to deploy self-destruct payloads.” Hank stands and steps down the stairs, waiting for the call to Elaine Mercer to go through. It does and she answers before the first ring is finished.

After a few moments of conversation, Hank kills the call and climbs back into the van. “Things may have gone from bad to worse for those guys inside the building.”

“How so?” Paige asks.

Hank looks at Paige. “Did you know our new president has a pacemaker?”

“No. I don’t recall hearing about that during the campaign,” Paige says.

“I don’t, either,” Reiley says. “What about it? Did it crap out on him or go haywire?”

“Apparently his havin’ one was a closely guarded secret,” Hank says. “But, yeah, Cliff, somethin’ went haywire. They don’t have all the details yet, but the doctors believe someone hacked his pacemaker and accelerated his heart rate. Elaine believes it’s all tied into these attacks.”

“Is the president dead?” Reiley asks.

“Not yet. He’s hangin’ on for now. But that’s another reason we need to be extremely careful about handlin’ the evidence inside that building. How long until we make entry, Cliff?”

“The snipers are in position,” Reily says. “Whenever you’re ready, we’re ready. One question, though. Do you want the snipers to take out the three armed suspects when we breach the door?”

Hank pauses, thinking. After a moment or two he says, “What are the odds that those guys on the computers are workin’ on a class project and not hackin’ into every computer network in the country?”

“Less than one percent,” Reiley says.

“Have the snipers take out the guys with weapons,” Hank says.

Boston

The local police have blocked all traffic within a four-block area of the building and have evacuated the nearby businesses that wouldn’t attract the attention of those inside the building. The assumption is that the five men on the computers are unarmed. But the FBI doesn’t know that for a fact. They also don’t have the floor plans for the building. Reiley sent agents to the courthouse but they came up empty. In the end, it’s not a large building—maybe eight to ten thousand square feet—and the surveillance and thermal scans have detected no other humans so Reiley is not that concerned about not having the building plans.

One of Reiley’s men plotted out an approach that will allow them access to the front of the building without being seen. It’s a roundabout way, but maintaining the surprise element is key. There was some debate about breaching through the roof but the only way to get to it is via ladder, leaving the men exposed for too long. Reiley also thought about dropping some agents down from a helicopter, but that could spook the bad guys and maybe lead to destruction of evidence before they could get to them. So a hard, fast breach through the doors is plan A. Hank, wearing an armored vest and a FBI Windbreaker, is one of the eight men who will make entry into the building. Other agents will guard the building’s other exits and will not be part of the breach team.

Now bunched on either side of the entrance, Hank and his crew are waiting for the demolitions man to finish applying the charges to the door. Three of the men have flash-bang grenades in their hands and will toss them inside as soon as the door is blown. Everyone takes a step back when the guy placing the charges nods. He holds up three fingers and counts down. When his fist is closed the door explodes into the building and the three flash-bangs follow.