He jumped into his rolling chair and looked at his screen. The cursor flashed on a line of code. He read it and frowned.
The command went to a website and returned a yes or no.
Why the hell are they going out to a website?
Ted opened a browser on his other screen and typed in the URL. He got a 404 message. Website not found.
Hmm … If the website isn’t found, it returns a no. What happens if it returns a yes?
Ted pulled up a new browser window and registered the name of the site the program called for. Then he quickly created a single web page that answered yes when it was called up.
He went back to his other screen and started the code in debug mode. He stepped through line by line until it came to the call. This time, the website answered with a yes.
The program jumped to a module that Ted hadn’t seen before. It unlocked all files, erased all the virus files from the hard drive, and shut down.
Ted blinked his eyes. Could it be? He searched his file system. No sign of the virus, no locked files. The bug just committed suicide.
That was it? It’s too easy. The programmer who built this put in a kill switch. Why? Why would a black-hat hacker put a way to kill his own virus in the code?
I’ve got to check this out. Who’s still infected?
He reached for his phone and dialed the Law Offices of Hardwick & Hardwick. The phone rang several times before he got a “Hello?”
“Kathy, this is Ted.”
“Ted? Ted who?” the female voice replied.
“Ted Higuera. Chris’s friend. Your investigator.”
A momentary pause, then “Oh, yes. I’m sorry, Ted. I wasn’t expecting anyone to call this early in the morning.”
Ted smiled. “The reason I called is that you’re the only person in the world who’d be at work this early.” Kathy Nguyen was the third attorney at Chris’s firm. He and his step-mom, Candace, hired Kathy to help with the murder case against Ted’s little brother.
“I need you to do something for me.” Ted’s heartbeat sped up. “There’s a lap top in Chris’s office. It’s infected with the CryBaby virus. I haven’t had time to clean it yet.”
“Uh-huh?”
“I need you to get it and turn it on for me.”
“Ted, are you sure we should be doing this? I mean, it’s Chris’s laptop. I’m not going into my boss’s office when he’s not here and get into his personal files.”
“It’s okay. He won’t mind. Listen, I think I’ve solved the CryBaby virus. I need to verify it. I need an answer fast, that’s why I called you.”
“Can’t we just wait until Chris gets in?”
Ted shook his head. “No. Listen, I need you to do this. NOW.”
“Ah … okay. I guess. Hold on.”
He could hear movement on the other end of the phone line, then silence. He drummed his fingers on the desk, waiting.
C’mon, c’mon.
It seemed like a life time. Finally, Kathy came back on the phone. “All right, Ted. I have his laptop.”
“Open it, turn it on.” He heard movement on Kathy’s side. There was a pronounced click. He waited.
“Okay, it’s coming up. We’re at the Windows splash screen … It wants me to log in. I don’t know Chris’s password.”
“Try Defiant4 with a capital D.”
He heard the clicking of keys on the other end.
“Oh, that worked.”
Ted smiled. The Defiant was Chris’s dad’s sail boat that got blown up on their little adventure in Canada.
“I’ve got the CryBaby pop-up window.”
“Good.” Ted’s heart threatened to break out of his chest. “Click on the ‘submit’ button.”
“Okay. I’ve got the little blue circle going around. It’s gone. The pop-up disappeared.”
“Great. Try to open a file. Any file.”
“Ted, I shouldn’t …”
“Just do it,” he screamed.
“It works. I can get to our document management system.”
Ted let out a deep breath and slumped in his chair. “That’s great, Kathy. Thank you. I’ll … ah … talk to you later.”
****
Rodney Jacobson (R–Alabama) looked out over the many empty seats in the Senate chamber. Where’s everyone? This is the most important bill that’ll be introduced this year.
“And so, my fellow senators, I place this important piece of legislation before you. The Secure Our Borders Act will not only stop this shameful influx of illegal immigration, it will secure out great nation from the threat of Islamic terrorists seeping into our country.”
There was a quorum of senators sitting in the seats, but not enough to get a truly emotional rally going. Senator Jacobson finished his speech and closed the folder on the lectern.
We should pass this with no problem. At least we’ll keep those sand niggers out.
His chief of staff handed him a tablet as they exited the Senate Chamber. “You have a lunch with Senators George and Kelly at the Rotunda, then a meeting with the chairman of General Motors at four.”
“Is the car ready?” the senator asked.
“Yes, sir. Standing by.”
“Then let’s go.”
He didn’t need to be led. He made his way down the long hallway to the elevators and pushed the button for the parking garage. Two U.S. marshals waited at the exit from the elevator. They walked the senator to his car.
The chauffer jumped from his seat when he saw the senator coming. He stood holding the door before the senator was within ten steps of the car.
“Mornin’, Senator,” the driver said.
“Mornin’, Charles.” Senator Jacobson bent his long, thin body into the stretch Lincoln limo. “We’re headed to the Rotunda for lunch.”
“Yes, sir.” Charles held the door for the chief of staff to enter, then closed it and got into the driver’s seat. He fired up the engine and headed out of the parking structure.
Turning onto the busy street, he headed for Georgetown.
As they moved into traffic, the limo sped up.
“Holy shit!” Charles exclaimed. He slammed on the breaks. Nothing happened.
The street curved to the right. Charles yanked the wheel to keep on the road. The two left tires lifted off the pavement.
“Jesus Christ,” the senator screamed. “Charles, slow down.”
“Something’s wrong with the car,” Charles yelled. “It’s doing this by itself.”
Senator Jacobson pulled out his cell phone and hit speed dial. “George, Listen. I’m in the limo. I may not have much time. The car’s gone out of control. You know that hack the NSA presented to our last Intelligence committee briefing? I think we’ve got it …”
The transmission stopped when the car hit a curb and went airborne, slamming into a glass-fronted coffee shop. People, tables, and chairs were tossed about as if in a hurricane as the heavy car plowed through. The car hit a reinforced-concrete wall at the back of the shop and smashed up like an accordion.
There were no survivors.
****
Justin McCormack, CEO of YTS security and a legend in the cyber world stood behind the lectern in the main auditorium at the Las Vegas Convention Center. He brushed back his long brown hair and spoke.
“I hardly need to introduce you to Bill Ogilvie. He is one of the NSA’s top scientists. He has been involved in cyber-security since before there was cyber-security. His department has headed off attacks from foreign governments as well as black hat hackers. So please help me welcome Dr. William Scott Ogilvie!”
The short, stocky man adjusted his glasses and took the lectern. The National Security Conference was his favorite venue.
The attendees were the crème de la crème, the elite of the computer-security industry. He loved the adulation showered on him by these intelligent, educated people.
“Thank you, Justin.” He shook the moderator’s hand, then turned to the audience. “And thank you to all of y
ou who took time out of your busy schedules to be here with me today.” He looked out into the blackness. The stage lights blinded him. He’d played this game before. With more than two thousand seats in the auditorium filled, he could hear their breathing, feel their presence.
“I want to start today’s talk by emphasizing the seriousness of cyber-security. This week’s ransomware attack in Atlanta shows just how vulnerable our country is. The hack virtually shut the city down. The 9-1-1 system and the whole police department, city systems, and the Atlanta airport were all compromised. You can’t pay a parking ticket or apply for a job in Atlanta. The city finally agreed to pay fifty-one thousand dollars in Bit-Coin to get their systems back up and running. This is unacceptable.”
He felt a tingling in his left arm. He couldn’t catch his breath and his heart rate began to accelerate.
Oh, God! Not now, not here.
He had a heart attack before. This can’t be happening.
He clutched his chest. A loud gasp arose from the audience. Ogilvie’s knees went slack, and he collapsed.
Justin was there in a second, flipped him onto his back, and felt for a pulse. “Somebody call nine-one-one. Is there a doctor here?”
Chapter 12
“Mama, Chris asked me to marry him.” Hope stood in front of her mother, seated on a flower-patterned sofa in their living room.
“Mija!” Mama jumped up and wrapped her arms around her oldest daughter.
“I couldn’t ask her father for her hand,” Chris, dressed in his best suit said, “so I asked Ted instead.”
“Mija, I’m so happy for you.” She released Hope and wrapped her arms around Chris. “And Christopher, I’m so glad. You will make a wonderful son and a better husband.”
Hope looked around the room. It was so different from the place she’d grown up in East LA. The Queen Anne neighborhood said “money.” There was no fence with broken glass around the house to discourage visitors. The colonial-style-four-bedroom shouted “middle-America.”
Mama let go of Chris and reached for her daughter’s hand. “Esperanza, when is the wedding?” Esperanza was Hope’s name in Spanish. She reached for Chris’s hand, too.
“We’re thinking next June,” Hope said.
“June! But that’s ten months away.”
Chris smiled down at the little woman. “That gives us lots of time to plan the wedding.”
“Oh, my.” Mama gasped.
“I’m going to ask Candace to help me,” Hope said. “She has the most perfect taste.”
Mama sucked in a little air. “Oh, Hope, I hope you’re not going to have an Anglo wedding?”
“No, Mama. It will be traditional.”
****
Mary Beth stood up from her swivel chair, placed her hands on the small of her back, and stretched. She’d spent hours combing through the Internet in search of information about Jane’s husband.
Jane still wouldn’t tell Mary Beth her real name, but with basic sleuthing skills, Mary Beth followed her home, got her address, and the license plate number of her car.
It was child’s play to find the name of the owners of the home and the car. Mary Beth had never heard of these people. They were totally normal.
She looked their credit score and records for their children. Nothing stood out. They were model citizens.
She thought it odd that Jane never mentioned her husband was an immigrant. He had come to America on a student visa and stayed to contribute to the country’s growth and prosperity. That didn’t make him an abuser.
Coffee. Must find coffee.
Mary Beth didn’t work the long hours some of her co-workers did. She was a single mom with responsibilities at home. But in the forty hours she did work, she threw herself into the job and often did her research at home after the kids were in bed.
She grabbed her coffee mug and headed for the break room.
She hesitated at the door. He was there. She didn’t know why she didn’t like him, but her feminine instinct warned her to be cautious.
“Hi, Bear.” She put on her best fake smile.
Bear looked up from his magazine, gave her the once over, and said, “Hi.”
Mary Beth felt as if he was undressing her with his eyes. She went over to the coffee machine and loaded a packet of French Vanilla. She placed her cup under the spout and pushed the button.
On the refrigerator next to the coffee machine, she spied a post card.
She slid it out from under a black cat magnet. It was from Cat. This time, the picture was of the Sydney Opera House. As usual, the message on the back was brief.
I’d love to see Australia. That girl’s sure getting around.
“You guys have that virus thing under control?” She didn’t really want to talk to Bear, but it was rude to seem as if she was avoiding him.
What was it? His unkept red hair? His short, powerful body. He looked like some sort of caveman who might club her over the head and drag her back to his cave by her hair.
“Mmmmm …” Bear mumbled something unintelligible.
Her coffee done, she set the cup on the counter next to the refrigerator and opened the door. While she poked around inside looking for her chestnut-flavored creamer, she heard a low, rumbling sound behind her.
“I don’t mean to pry, but you have two kids, right?”
Mary Beth turned to face him. “Ah … yes. Bob and Dorothy.”
“That’s great.” Bear looked up at her. “I love kids. We have six.”
Mary Beth let out a breath. Maybe he wasn’t so bad. “Wow. Six is a lot these days.”
“Julie and I always wanted a big family.” He smiled at her and waved to an empty chair at the table. “Why don’t you sit down. We should really get to know each other better, being that we’re going to be working together.”
Mary Beth took the chair. “How does your wife feel about so many kids?”
“She loves it. She’s a stay-at-home mom and home schools them. She’s a smart woman, but has a hard time keeping ahead of the oldest two.”
“Mmmm …” Mary Beth sipped her coffee.
“How about your kids, how old are they?”
“Bobby’s the oldest; he’s nine. Dorothy is seven.”
Bear looked her over carefully. She felt as if she was being X-rayed. There was that feeling again, she should be wary of this man.
“Those are nice ages. Old enough to be interested in the world, but still innocent. I think I like those years the best.”
Maybe I’m judging him too harshly. “How old are your kids?”
“They range from thirteen to six months.”
She sipped her coffee and tried to feel the camaraderie.
“May I ask you something personal?” Bear asked.
“Sure.” She was beginning to feel a little trust for this man.
“Why do you hate your kids?”
“Wha …?” Mary Beth’s mouth dropped open.
Bear leaned towards her and took her hand. “I mean, at this age, they need their mom more than ever. Why did you leave your husband? He needs to support your family and you need to be at home with your children.”
Mary Beth sat and stared at this strange man.
****
The intercom on Ted’s desk sprang to life. “Ted, get in here! Now.” It was Bear.
“What’s happenin’, Bear?”
“You gotta see this. Holy crap, there’s another one.”
Ted rushed down the hall from his office to the computer room. He logged in at the security door and Bear buzzed him in from the man-trap. He glanced at Bear’s work area. Typical. Three empty Diet Coke cans littered the desk, along with five Thai take out boxes. Piles of paper were scattered across the worksurface. Bear was nothing if not sloppy, but, man, could the boy code.
“What’s goin’ on, oh Great One.” Ted dropped into a swivel chair and sent himself rolling across the floor to Bear’s workstation.
“Check this out.” Bear highlighted a line of code
on his screen.
Ted leaned forward and squinted at the screen. “It’s a call to a module called ‘daisy chain.’ What’s that?”
“You’re not going to believe this.” Bear clicked on his screen. The debugger jumped to another piece of code. “This is well hidden. I don’t think I’d have ever found it if I didn’t see the call.”
Ted read through the code. “This is in the original Microsoft code?”
“You betcha.” Bear beamed as if he had won first place in a beauty pageant. “It creates zombies, then sends them out to infect every Windows computer it can contact.”
He clicked on another button on the screen. Once again it jumped.
“This is outside the operating system. The hackers must have thought it was too dangerous to embed their code. The infected computer downloads the executable, then starts a DOS attack on … wait for it … wait for it … here it comes … the Fed.”
“Huh?” Ted scooted closer to the screen. “The Fed. Like in the Federal Reserve System?”
“Bingo.” Bear held his right index finger to his nose as if a bullet were piercing it. “Then it attacks the New York Stock Exchange.”
“A Denial of Service attack?” Ted thought for a moment, then scratched his head. “That would take down our whole financial system. It’d be chaos. It’d be worse than the crash of 2008.”
“Now you’re catching on, Hero.” Bear sat back in his chair and swiveled three-hundred-sixty degrees. “This thing will create millions of zombies. They’ll spread the attack all over the world. The servers at the Fed and the Stock Exchange won’t be able to handle the volume and they’ll shut down.”
“Is this part of the CryBaby attack?” Ted asked.
Bear shook his head. “Nope, something entirely different, but it’s spread the same way.”
“That means it probably the same hacker. How the hell could he get the code into Windows?”
Ted read through the code. “Hey, did you see this?” He pointed to a line of code on his screen. “The attack isn’t automated. It starts when the computers get a message from this website.”
Bear typed in some characters on his keyboard, then turned his second monitor to face Ted. “Hmm … this is buried pretty deep. It has to be here somewhere.”
Cyberwarfare Page 9