Cyberwarfare

by Pendelton C. Wallace

  “Ted? … Teddy? … Are you still there?”

  The voice seemed to be coming from somewhere outside of Jupiter. With a great act of will, he shook his head and picked up the phone. “Yeah.”

  “Will you help me?”

  Life was no longer worth living. “Yeah, I’ll see what I can do. Are the passwords still the same?” He reached for a pencil.

  “Everything’s the same.”

  “There’s your problem. You know you should change your passwords every ninety days. I told you that. You’re just askin’ to be hacked.” Ted rubbed his rapidly healing nose.

  “We don’t have time for recriminations. I just need this fixed.”

  “Okay. I do need payment though. If I do this for you, you have to let me see my son.”

  There was a long silence on the phone.

  “I’m sorry, Ted. He’s not your son. No, you can’t see him. You can’t come down here. You need to make your own life up there.”

  What’s she up to? Why can’t I see him? I know he’s my son. He couldn’t be anyone else’s.

  “Ted, you don’t know how hard it was for me to make this call. All I want is to be left in peace to live my life. To raise my son. I can’t take any more of the turmoil that comes with being in love with you. You have to do this for me, then let me go.”

  Ted’s heart beat so fast that the world faded out of focus. He felt a chill rise up from his toes. The pencil broke in his hands. “Okay, tell me what happened?”

  “We got the CryBaby virus. We had to pay one hundred million dollars, U.S., to get it fixed.”

  “If you got it fixed, why do you need me?” He reached for another pencil.

  Another long pause.

  “Because … we need to find out … who did this. We need to make sure it never … happens again.”

  “So, you want me to reinforce your security systems.”

  “No, I want you to find out who did this.”

  Ted stared at the Spiderman poster. The web slinger was flying right at him. Dios mío. Can I do this?

  ****

  Leah Sykes was not a traditional beauty. At six feet tall, she was skinny, and all arms and legs. Her curly hair reminded Ted of nothing so much as a red Brillo pad. She wandered around like a lost puppy since her best friend, Catrina Flaherty, disappeared.

  “Leah, I’m glad you could make it in.” Ted knew that Leah did occasional work for Catrina as a forensic accountant. Despite her appearance and her personal flaws, Cat always said she was a good as they come. “What’s new?”

  Ted really liked Cat’s friend, but she wasn’t pretty enough for him, and there was the issue of her being twenty years older.

  Leah lowered her gangly body into one of Ted’s chairs. “I think I’ve met The One.”

  Oh Christ.

  “Every time I see you, you think you’ve met The One.”

  “This time, it’s real. He’s tall and handsome. He has a good job, owns his house outright, and has a body that would stop traffic. He’s got the biggest pe …” She put her hand over her mouth and said, “Oops. Let’s talk about business.”

  Thank God. I don’t feel like being her girlfriend today.

  “Here’s the problem. The FBI says I have a hundred million dollars in an off-shore account. They say I stole it from Wells Fargo and Bank of American…”

  “What’s the problem? Let’s head for the Caribbean.”

  “I didn’t steal that money. I didn’t set up those accounts. I didn’t know anything about it until I was arrested.”

  Leah opened her suitcase-sized purse and pulled out a leather-covered notebook. “Go on.”

  Ted leaned back in his chair and put his fingers to his forehead and his thumbs to his cheeks. “The NSA is willing to drop the terrorist charges against me if I help them, but the FBI wants to prosecute me for the theft.”

  Leah scribbled on her pad.

  “While I’m busy tryin’ ta save the world, you’ve gotta be lookin’ for whoever set me up. You’ve gotta find out who opened those accounts and moved the money.”

  The conversation went on for another half hour as Leah interrogated Ted about the most minute details.

  “Well, I think I have enough to get started,” Leah said.

  “Oh, I almost forgot.” Ted reached into his desk drawer. “I got another card from Cat.”

  “Oh, let me see.” Leah leaned over the desk.

  Ted handed her the card. It showed the Leaning Tower of Pisa. On the back it said “Having a great time. Wish you were here.”

  Leah held the card as if it was a stink bomb. “You know, there’s something wrong here.” She fanned herself with the offending card. “Oh, God. I’m having another hot flash.” Her normally pale face lit up bright red and sweat ran down her forehead.

  “What’s wrong?” Ted wrinkled his forehead.

  “This writing, it doesn’t sound like her and it doesn’t look like her hand writing.”

  “But it has her name in the return address …”

  ****

  Ted and Chris had met at the Jock and Jill Gym every Wednesday night since college. They worked out, they talked, laughed, and sweat. Then they headed to Ted’s place where he had a gourmet meal waiting.

  The gym was about as generic as it could get. Large windows, bunches of exercise machines, free weights, a mirrored wall with a cushy mat in front of it. Ted liked it because it wasn’t a pick-up joint. No one seemed to be primarily interested in hooking up with someone of the opposite sex. Or the same sex, for that matter. They were all there to exercise.

  “I’ve got big news, bro,” Ted said between breaths as he pounded the treadmill. His foot still hurt and his abs ached, but he worked though the pain.

  “Yeah? What?” Chris kept up an easy pace and had more breath.

  Ted reached up to the controls and slowed down the treadmill. “I heard from Maria.”

  “No shit!” Chris stopped and looked at Ted. “What’d she want?

  Ted’s breathing started to return to normal. “She’s been hacked.” Ted stopped his machine. “The CryBaby virus. She had to pay one hundred million dollars to get her data back.”

  Chris looked over at his friend and raised his eyebrows. “So, why did she contact you? She’s stayed away from you ever since we got back from Mexico.”

  “She says she’s looked for help all over the place, and she can’t find anyone as good as me.”

  “Beware of Mexicans bearing flattery.”

  “No, she really needs help.”

  “If she paid the ransom, why does she need you?

  Ted wiped his brow with the towel around his neck. “She wants to find out who did this. She wants to keep it from happening again.”

  “You know what that means, don’t you? It’s a euphemism for she’s going to kill the dude.”

  “We don’t know that.” Ted’s head hung down. “Maybe she has ways of convincing him of the error of his ways.”

  Chris shook his head in disgust. “You’re so in love with this woman, the head of a drug cartel, that you’re willing to help her commit murder.”

  Ted stepped off the treadmill and spread his hands “Look, she’s in danger from the Sonora Cartel. They’re behind this. They hired the Russian Mafia to do the hack.”

  “You can’t possibly know that.” Chris turned and started towards the locker rooms.

  Ted reached out and grabbed Chris’s arm. “Hold on, amigo. I have proof.”

  “You what? Ted, you can’t be working on this. You signed an agreement with the NSA. They own you.”

  “Look, I found an exchange of emails between Juan Miguel Mendoza and the Russian Mafia. He hired them to do it. He’s coming after Maria. If he takes her out, he’ll kill my son, too. I have to protect my family.”

  Chris turned and put his hands on Ted’s shoulders. “You need to hold off, buddy. If the NSA finds out you’re working on something else on their dime, it’s off to Guantanamo for you.”

  Chap
ter 31

  “How did you find him?” Dr. Elaine Jefferson asked Ted as they stood outside the perimeter of Chevy Suburbans surrounding the house.

  “You don’t really want to know.”

  “Mr. Higuera, you are under a legal obligation to tell us all you know. Think about how lovely it is in Guantanamo this time of year.”

  Ted pawed at the ground with his foot. “We got a little help from our friends.”

  “Your friends?” Elaine’s eyes got big. “You know this is a matter of national security?”

  “I also know that our agreement let me bring in my staff to solve the problem.”

  “Who else knows?”

  “My people, and … uh …” Ted dropped his head and lowered his voice. “The Iceman and the Joker.”

  “The Joker!” Her head spun so fast that Ted thought it might pop off. “Are you out of your mind?”

  “Cool your jets. We got what you needed, didn’t we?” Ted fumbled with the Kevlar vest with the bold yellow letters “FBI” on it “We knew his name and Abiba knew his alias. I found several property transactions under the name Assad al Allah. But the key was my forensic accountant. She found the transfers of money from Samir Hussaini’s accounts to Assad’s. As Leah always says, ‘Follow the money.’”

  Ted stood behind the cover of a SUV. His Glock nine-millimeter slung on the right side of his utility belt. On the left side were four extra magazines of ammunition and a Mag-lite. He wore a small Mag-lite pen light on a tether around his neck.

  “I don’t give a damn how you found him. I just want to stop him” Brice Holloway, the special agent in charge, said. Tall, broad shouldered, dark hair and brown eyes, he way the prototypical FBI agent. He looked as if he could tear apart the entire ISIS army with his bare hands.

  Ted saw men in black combat fatigues with assault rifles moving around the perimeter of the property. Uniformed police officers, with flashing lights on their cars, blocked off all access to the neighborhood. Police officers went door-to-door evacuating nearby families. Men, women, and children in their night wear funneled out of the area, directed by police officers.

  “Sir, we’ve found an escape tunnel two lots down,” a man in an FBI jacket said.

  “Have you blocked it off?” Holloway asked.

  “Yes, sir. We have four agents stationed at the opening.”

  Holloway put his radio to his lips. “All units, check in.”

  One by one, the various SWAT teams, agents, and police officers checked in.

  “We’re a go,” Holloway said to Elaine.

  “Then let’s do this.”

  ****

  “Assad, our motion detectors have gone off. I can see soldiers on all our hidden cameras. We’re surrounded.”

  Assad laughed. “The fools. How little they know. EVERYONE, OUT. USE THE TUNNEL,” he shouted.

  The twelve men in the house ran down the basement stairs. A tall, thin man with a scar on his face pushed the freezer aside and opened a door. “All of you, out.”

  The men ran down the dimly lit tunnel. Some hundred feet down the tunnel, a ladder led up to a hatch. The tall man waited until all his subordinates were at the ladder.

  He climbed the ladder and unlatched the hatch. He slowly pushed it open and began to climb out.

  “Freeze.” An M4 muzzle stared him in the face.

  The tall man dropped down inside the tunnel. He locked the hatch behind him.

  “Back, everyone. Now.”

  Assad sat at his workstation. He clicked on an icon that brought up an application labeled “Death to the Great Satan.”

  The tall man dashed back into the room. “Assad, they have sealed off the tunnel. We are surrounded.”

  Assad closed his eyes and shook his head. “Then this is the day we will see paradise.” He pushed the button on the screen starting the Death to the Great Satan application.

  The other men began to accumulate in the living room.

  Assad pulled up another application titled “Darkness to the Satan.” He saw a timer on his screen. He set it to fifteen minutes. He had to have time to let the Death to the Great Satan application do its work before shutting down the power grid to the entire United States.

  “Samir Hassaini, this is the FBI,” a voice said over a megaphone. “We have you completely surrounded. There is no chance of escape …”

  “How little the fools understand,” Assad said to his followers.

  “Throw down your weapons and come out with your hands up.”

  Assad opened his desk drawer and flipped the clear plastic cover off a small metal box with a red switch on it.

  “Allahu Akbar,” he screamed and flipped the switch.

  ****

  Ted stood behind the Suburban with Elaine Jefferson and the special agent in charge. He watched as the SWAT teams moved into position. He held his breath as they pulled flash-bang grenades from their vests.

  They stood frozen at their posts, waiting for the word.

  “Samir Hussaini, this is special-agent-in-charge, Brice Holloway. Put down your weapons and come out. This is your last warning.”

  The world exploded in a ball of fire. Ted felt the concussion and was thrown to the ground. He felt the sharp, stinging pain of hundreds of pieces of shrapnel hit his face.

  The air was forced from his lungs. He couldn’t breathe. He gasped, but no air would come in. He panicked.

  Holding his throat, he climbed back to his knees. He tried breathing. He thought he was going to die. Then he felt the lifegiving breath enter his body. He sucked in hard and blew out, joyous to be able to breathe.

  He felt his face with his hands. He picked small pieces of wood and glass from his face. His hands were covered in blood.

  As he got his wits about him, he looked around. The house was gone. Small fires burned everywhere. The neighboring house’s roof was on fire.

  Black-clad bodies lay strewn about the scene. He didn’t have the brain power to count them, but he knew that there had been two dozen men and women in the strike force.

  He turned to look at Elaine Jefferson lying on the ground beside him.

  “Oh God!” She didn’t have a head.

  Holloway lay bleeding on the ground. Ted dropped to his knees and examined the FBI agent. He had a large splinter stuck in his leg. Without thinking, Ted pulled it free. Blood gushed out of the wound, pulsing with each heartbeat.

  From somewhere far back in his mind, Ted recognized arterial bleeding. He pulled the belt off the wounded man and wrapped it around the man’s thigh. Then he picked up a nearby stick and put it under the belt. He began to twist the stick to tighten the belt. The bleeding lessened, then stopped.

  “Medic!” Ted screamed at the top of his lungs. “I need a medic over here. Man down.”

  In an instant, a team of paramedics dropped their boxes next to Holloway and took over without a word.

  Ted stood and looked at his blood-covered hands. He looked around him at the devastation. He uttered the word, “Why?”

  Chapter 32

  Ivan Gregorovich.

  He’d done it. Ted followed the maze of spoofing, the leaping from server to server, network to network. He sat at his desk, sweating. It was the middle of the night. No one else was around.

  Bear was taking a weeklong vacation after the cyber-attack to get back in touch with his family. Abiba left early to watch her daughter’s performance. Mary Beth was at Jennifer’s house, consoling her new friend.

  Ivan Gregorovich.

  What should he do with that knowledge? Ted got up and walked to the break room. The only thing to drink in the fridge was a lone diet A&W root beer. He popped the lid.

  What to do? If he gave Maria the name, she’d have him killed.

  No, she wouldn’t. She’s not that kind of girl.

  Who the hell do I think I’m kidding? She’s the queen of a drug cartel.

  He wandered back to his office.

  Maybe she wouldn’t. Maybe she had another way of making
sure the hack would never happen again.

  He had to think about his son. They boy was in mortal danger. He could save him. Would he kill one man to save his son?

  He picked up the empty tequila bottle from his desk and hurled it across the room.

  Family is everything.

  ****

  The short, dark, powerful man with curly black hair and a unibrow sat in his gold-claw-footed tub, sipping vodka. He’d really done it. A hundred million US dollars.

  Ivan Gregorovich couldn’t be happier. He had everything he’d ever dreamed about in his life. Money, power, women. He could have any woman he wanted with that kind of money. Why stop at one? Maybe two or three. Maybe a whole harem.

  His thoughts turned to later this afternoon. He had hired a girl. When the service asked him what he wanted, he replied, “Wild and kinky. Let her surprise me.” He felt a tingle in his loins just anticipating the evening.

  There was a tap at his door. “Room service.”

  Ivan stepped from the tub and wrapped himself in a towel. He reached for the Marakov semi-automatic pistol on his night stand.

  “Room service? I didn’t order room service.”

  “It is your complimentary breakfast. Courtesy of the hotel.”

  He peered through the peep-hole in the door. What he saw was a tall, gorgeous woman with heavy black hair pulled up in a bun. With an incredible body she filled out her waiter’s uniform perfectly.

  Hmmm … Could this be my call-girl? She’s very early.

  Ivan unlocked the door and let the server in.

  “What do we have?” he asked.

  She smiled at him. His heart melted, but something was bothering him. He sat his pistol on the side-table.

  “Eggs sunny side up, sausage, coffee, orange juice and toast.” She lifted the cover off the plate, replaced it and reached into the pocket of her apron. “And this.” She produced a small semi-automatic pistol.

  “What?” Oh, I get it. This is the wild and kinky.

  “Back slowly into the bedroom. And drop the towel.”