She paused and put a hand to her right ear. “We’re receiving a report now. Hold on a minute.”
She nodded her head. “I’ve just been informed that the blackout extends from the Mexican border to Canada and from the Pacific Ocean to the western slopes of the Rocky Mountains. We’re going now to a live report from David Garcia, at KCBS in Los Angeles.”
A dark man with black hair appeared on the screen over Janet’s shoulder. He stared into the camera a couple of seconds before speaking.
“Thank you, Janet. I’m at the Los Angeles County Administration building, trying to get a handle on what’s going on here.”
Automobile horns screamed in the background.
“All cell phones and land-lines are down. We’re communicating with our field teams via satellite broadcasts. As you can probably hear, the traffic control system has gone down. We have reports of accidents throughout the city. News Chopper 7 has footage.”
The screen went black, with tiny lights from cars illuminating the ghostly landscape.
“Thanks, David. This is Kelly O’Donnell in News Chopper 7.” The lines of white and red lights on the freeways below her were frozen. “As you can see, the traffic below us is a mess. When the power went out, the traffic system failed. Cars hurled into each other in intersections all over the city. Traffic is at a standstill and people are abandoning their vehicles in the streets. LAPD asks all motorists to remain with their cars. As tow trucks clear the streets, drivers need to move their cars to allow traffic to flow.”
Garcia held a finger to his ear and said, “Kelly, I hate to cut you off, but we’re going to Brad Demming at the San Jose Creek Water Reclamation Plant. Brad what do you have?”
The screen behind Janet split, with a picture of David on the left and a short man with matinee-idol looks on the right.
“Hi, David. I’m here at the San Jose facility just outside of Whittier, California. I just spoke to Daniel Barnwell, the plant manager. He says that the plant has completely malfunctioned, and raw sewage is flooding into the streets. The Los Angeles sewage treatment system handles over five-hundred million gallons of sewage a day. At this time, there is no way to prevent that sewage from flowing through the system, untreated.”
“Brad, doesn’t the county have backup power for those plants?”
“Yes, it does, David.” The camera backed out and Brad stood in front of a modern-looking building with a Los Angeles County Sewage Treatment Plant sign. The lights in the building were blazing. “Mr. Barnwell told me that their computer systems have gone haywire and the computers are causing the problems. Flow gates have locked shut all over the city and the sewage has no place to go other than the storm drains.”
“Any word on when the plants will be back online?”
Brad shook his head. “No, David. They’ve called in all staff, but with traffic tied up the way it is, it could be hours before they’re here. Once they have their people on-site, they have to crawl through their computer systems, line by line, looking for the bad code. It could take hours, days or weeks to locate the problem. In the meantime, the County Sheriff’s Office has put out a notice to all beach-goers to stay out of the water.”
“Thanks, Brad.” David looked back into the camera. “Janet, as of now, no one knows what happened or why. We’ll keep you updated as more information becomes available. For now, back to you.”
“Thank you, David.” The screen returned to Janet Petersen, in Washington, D.C.
“No one can tell us what’s going on. I have reports that the President is calling the Joint Chiefs-of-Staff to an emergency meeting at the White House. Our White House correspondent, Julie Chin, is standing by with that story.”
The screen behind Janet showed an Asian-American woman standing on the White House lawn. “Thanks, Janet.” Julie looked down at her tablet. “We can’t get confirmation of these stories but have been told that the President believes this is a cyber-attack on the United States. He has called his military and technical advisors to the White House in the middle of the night for an emergency conference. You’ll recall that the President recently announced that any cyberattack against the United States would be retaliated against with nuclear weapons.”
Julie held her hand to her right ear. “I’m getting another report in now. This story is just breaking. An ISIS website has claimed responsibility for the power outage.”
Chapter 2
Four months earlier:
Chris Hardwick pulled his Porsche Boxster into the parking lot of an old warehouse in Seattle’s SODO district. East of the ball parks, fancy restaurants, and expensive condos, this was the industrial underbelly of the city.
He sat for a moment in the silver sports car. Although twelve-years old, it looked brand new and ran like a Swiss watch. Harry, his late dad, gave him the car as a high school graduation present and a bribe to keep him in Seattle and attend the University of Washington.
A lump filled his throat and his eyes dampened. Harry had suffered a heart attack during the Swiftsure sailboat race forty miles off-shore. By the time the Coast Guard reached him, it was too late.
Get with it, bud. He shook his head. This should be the most joyous time in his life. He just won the biggest murder case of his career. He had more clients than he could handle, he had the love of a good woman, life was good. So why did he have this feeling of sorrow, loneliness?
Chris slipped out of the expensive sports car and headed for the building, kicking at the weeds which protruded through breaks in the parking lot concrete and the McDonald’s wrappers that flitted at the mercy of the wind coming off the Sound.
“Mr. Chris,” a large African woman said in a British accent as Chris entered the door. “So nice to see you.” She jumped up and wrapped him in a big hug.
“Abiba, it’s been too long.”
Although Chris was a tall man, he felt engulfed by the woman’s embrace. She was every bit as tall as he and outweighed him by a hundred pounds.
She set him free. “You here to see Mr. Ted today?”
Chris gasped for breath. “Yeah, is he in?”
“He’s in his office.” Abiba wiped a tear from her eye. “Mr. Chris, you must help him. Ever since he got back from Mexico, he mopes around. I swear he spends more time with Señor Herradura than he does with his clients.” The corners of her lips turned down. “With Mrs. Flaherty gone, we need him. You have to make him snap out of it.”
“I’ll see what I can do. I still have a miracle or two up my sleeve.” Chris headed through the maze of cubicles toward the back of the office. As usual, a couple of dozen women sat in groups of twos or fours inside the workspaces carrying on the work of Flaherty & Associates.
Chris knew that Catrina Flaherty founded the private investigation firm to help women in trouble. When Ted came on board, he moved the company into the twenty first century and brought in several high-profile security clients. The hermano was a smart guy; he shouldn’t have any trouble running the agency without her.
Chris stopped at the office door to study his best friend. Ted Higuera was a short, stocky man. He could still bench press two-fifty and had the moves that won him the all-time high school rushing yardage record in the Los Angeles School District and got him the scholarship to the University of Washington.
Ted looked like hell. He had dark circles under his eyes, his curly black hair was uncombed, and his Seahawks T-shirt looked as if it died several months ago.
“Hey, amigo, what’s up?” Chris asked as he entered Ted’s office.
“Chris.” Ted rose to embrace his buddy in a big abrazo.
Chris smelled the distinct odor of tequila and sweat about him. “I haven’t heard from you in a week. I thought I better come over and see if you’re still alive.” Chris took a seat in the padded cherry-wood chair opposite Ted’s desk.
“Just barely, man.” Ted returned to his chair. “Sometimes I wonder if it’s worth it.”
“That’s bullshit and you know it.” Chris picked up the
bottle of tequila and examined the label. “You’ve got more going for you than any hundred other guys I know.” The bottle was two-thirds empty. “Is this from today?”
“Don’t go gettin’ all goodie-two-shoes on me.” Ted’s eyes widened, and his stare intensified. “I can take care of myself.”
Chris put the bottle back on Ted’s desk. “It doesn’t look like it.”
Ted’s lips curled into a sneer.
Chris took in Ted’s office. The bright cherry-wood furniture accented the soft gray walls. A picture of Papa and Mama, before Papa was murdered in Mexico, sat on his credenza, next to pictures of his two brothers and two sisters. His attention was drawn to Ted’s little sister, Hope, in her quinciñera dress. God, even at fifteen, you could tell she was going to be something special.
In the picture, Hope wore a light-pink ballgown that emphasized her tiny waist and large bust line while minimizing her full hips. His heart skipped a beat. This is really it.
“I was just thinking…” Chris cleared his throat. “Ah… that we’ve sure come a long way.”
A sign of life flashed in Ted’s eyes. “Yeah. I never expected this…”
“Me neither. I guess we’re all grown up now. You, the president of your own company, me with my own law firm. Who’d a thunk it?”
Ted closed his eyes and was silent for a moment. “I remember how we never wanted to have adult jobs; I mean, I never thought about it, now here we are… I guess you’re right. It’s just that… I mean... first, I lose Maria. The baby should be due soon. I won’t even be able to see my own son. Then Cat walks out on me.”
“Hey, amigo.” Chris pounded his fist on the desk. “She didn’t walk out on YOU. She left because her life was in ruins. After she discovered that Harvey was a serial killer; well, you know what I mean. She needed to get a fresh start. You need to get a fresh start. I’m going to take you out and find you a girl tonight.”
“Bullshit. I don’t want another girl. I want Maria.” Ted slumped in his chair.
“Get real. That’s just not going to happen.” Chris shook his head slowly. “C’mon, Ted. I came to break you out of this jail. Let’s head down to the gym. I’ve got the afternoon off.”
“Nah. I got stuff to do.”
Chris spun the LED screen on Ted’s desk to face him. The calendar application was up. “Yeah, it sure looks like you’re busy.” Chris rose from his chair. “C’mon, get your butt in gear, Higuera. We’re going to the gym, then we’re headed over to The Green Front for a beer.”
“The Green Front? What’s wrong with Hope’s place?”
That was the last place Chris wanted to go. “I need to talk with you… someplace private.”
****
Sam liked his life predictable and uncomplicated. Each day he rose early, spread his prayer rug, faced Mecca, and professed his faith. Then, he made a pot of strong tea and sat at the kitchen table with his Surface tablet and scanned the Internet for world news.
By the time he finished his second cup, sounds of life seeped into the kitchen. His twelve-year-old son, Amed, burst into the kitchen, grabbed a Pop-Tart and gulped a swig of orange juice from the container.
“Amed, how many times do I have to tell you not to drink from the bottle?” he asked.
“I dunno.” His son smirked at him. “How many times have you told me so far?”
Before he had time to reply, his fifteen-year-old daughter, Amira, swept into the room, twirled, and dropped daintily into a chair.
“You are not wearing that outside,” Sam roared. Once more she was wearing a short skirt and a low-cut T-shirt.
How could his wife allow his daughter dress like an American whore? He considered himself fully integrated into American society, but he still had standards. He married Jennifer while in college, and she converted to the faith, but somehow, she couldn’t adhere to the Islamic sharia law’s dress requirements.
“Mom!” Amira shouted. “Dad’s doing it again.”
His kids were out of the house before he had time to say, “Good morning.” Jennifer, who worked a night shift at the Kaiser Permanente Hospital in Bellevue, rarely rose before he left for work.
Jennifer never got the knack of Syrian cooking. He grabbed a bowl of yogurt, some fruit, and a bagel. A poor substitute for a real breakfast. At home, his mother would have breakfast covering the table by the time he made his way to the kitchen. Modern American life.
Sam loved his walk to work, especially on a late summer day. His three-bedroom apartment at the Trails of Redmond was less than a mile from the Microsoft campus. Nestled amongst tall evergreens, the air smelt of cedar needles and ferns, and salal crowded the path. It almost made him feel as if he was in a primeval forest.
“Sam, good morning to you,” a small Indian man said as he joined Sam along the trail.
“Marhaban, Guppy.” Sam smiled and fell in step with his friend.
As they walked past the rarely used recreation centers, half a dozen other H1B visa engineers on their way to work joined them.
The Microsoft campus spread throughout the valley. Modern three-story buildings were surrounded by acres of parking lots filled with BMWs, Porsches, and luxury SUVs. Green lawn filled the gaps between the buildings. Fountains graced courtyards filled with workers holding coffee cups in one hand and Surface tablets in the other.
What a pleasant place to work. Far from his birth- place of Halab in war-torn Syria.
Sam said goodbye to his comrades, made his way to his office and docked his tablet into his workstation. The large flat-screen monitor sprang to life. He started with emails. It was always important to keep up on the latest communications.
Next was his work-group wiki. Any new security threats discovered overnight would be posted there. His subordinates in India also posted the results of their day’s work.
It worked well that way. He and his American team scoured the Web for security flaws in the Windows operating system during the day. They left instructions for the India team when they went home. When they came back the next day, the India team made their fixes and the American team tested them.
It was a big job. As head of the Windows security team, Sam had the whole world at his fingertips. Hundreds of millions of computers world-wide depended on his team to keep them safe from the cesspool of viruses, worms, Trojan Horses, ransomware, and other malware infesting the Internet.
Sam considered his team white-hat hackers, the good guys. The black-hat hackers were always trying to find new ways to break into systems and cause havoc. Stopping them was a never-ending task. As soon as one operating system breech was found and plugged, another was discovered. His team worked twenty-four hours a day to try to keep ahead of the hackers. Most of the time, the security flaws were discovered by the black hats, not by his team. Then his team had to hustle to solve the problem before it became an epidemic. It was a game they never won.
****
Ted kept up with Chris step for step on the treadmills. Even though Ted had been a college athlete, Chris was the gifted one. Chris’s dad, Harry, had been a Heisman Trophy candidate at the UW until an injury ended his football career. Chris inherited Harry’s genes.
Ted wiped the sweat from his brow and looked over at this friend. He was tall, with long blond hair pulled back into a pony tail. His sky-blue eyes melted many a female heart. Ted chuckled to himself. They shoulda cast Mr. Perfect there in the Thor movies.
His mama didn’t raise any fools. He knew what Chris was up to. Anything to take his mind off Maria.
“So, are things settling down for you at the office?” Chris asked between breaths.
“Not much. I’m keepin’ Cat’s business alive for her. It was her passion, and I expect she’ll come back for it someday. Ya know we were spared from that run-in with the terrorist up in Canada for a reason. I feel like I need to defend people that can’t defend themselves.”
Chris smiled.
The tread mills slowed down.
“We’ve made a lot
of progress in the cyber-security department,” Ted said. “I got more clients than I can handle. I’m thinkin’ about hiring an assistant.”
“That sounds like a nice problem to have.” Chris stepped off his treadmill and toweled his face.
“I’m so swamped with the business side of the business.” Ted wrapped a towel around his neck. “I can’t service our clients. I’m thinkin’ that the company has grown too big to handle.”
Chris headed for the showers. “I know you took some business classes at the U. Remember what professor Chin used to tell us?” He paused a moment. “Do what you’re good at, then hire experts to do the things you aren’t good at.”
“I haven’t thought about Chin in years. Yeah, I guess you’re right.” Ted felt the endorphins coursing through his system. He couldn’t wait to get back to work and start straightening things out. “I’ve got two big security contracts coming up. I don’t know how I’ll find time to do them.”
Chris spun the combination on his lock. “Here’s an idea for you. You need to restructure the firm. When you and Cat were running it, you just kind of did your own thing and it worked. Now that you’re alone, you need to build some processes. You should hire a replacement for yourself to run the cyber-security department, then hire someone to run the investigations business. That will leave you to run the over-all company.”
Ted stripped off his workout clothes and dropped them into the bottom of his locker. “Papa used to tell me that the secret to success was to surround yourself with successful people.”
The memory of Papa cast a dark shadow across his soul. The Cartel killed Papa in Mexico when he was searching for Ted’s little brother. If only you waited for me. But there was no stopping Papa once he’d made up his mind.
Cyberwarfare Page 2