Cyberian Affair

by Mark A Pryor

  Vyper took it and placed it low on her abdomen without opening it. “What is going on? Why are we at DEFCON 3?”

  Raising an eyebrow, Smith responded, “Why do you say that?”

  “You cannot mobilize troops at strategic air bases without the public noticing. What is going on? Are we having a nuclear standoff with Russia?”

  “You know I can’t tell you anything—even if something’s going on.”

  Vyper pursed her lips. “If Russia causes Calvert Cliffs to melt down, will the military respond with nuclear weapons?”

  “I can answer that question. Our nuclear policy continues to be one of proportional response. That’s public knowledge.” Smith plugged the laptop’s power cord into the wall and handed the other end to Vyper. “Of course, the president can initiate the launch of these weapons whenever he feels justified.”

  “Does the alert have anything to do with the software I wrote? The one with the KILROY message—or the weapon firmware?”

  “I hate to sound like a broken record, but you’re not cleared to know what we used your software for.”

  Vyper plugged the power cord into her laptop. “Just tell me I did not give you something to start a nuclear war.”

  “Let’s change the subject.” Smith removed a cell phone from his pocket. “My team discovered this phone on Sokolov. We could use your help.”

  She took the phone. “You can get the FBI to break into it. Why do you need me?”

  “We prefer not to involve the agency.”

  Vyper smiled. “The CIA knows how to break in. Why me?”

  “You know why. My organization isn’t allowed to do that kind of work inside the US.”

  “You want me to break into the phone using the cell service provider. That is illegal, you know.” She opened her laptop and started an encrypted session with a private network. She powered on Sokolov’s phone and studied the screen. “I will do it.”

  Once Vyper obtained full access, she searched for key information. “He was smart. Location services are turned off, so I cannot tell you where he has travelled.” She searched for more information. “Sokolov has no contacts, and the internet history is empty. He used the Telegram app to send secure messages, and the ‘self-destruct’ feature is turned on. I cannot tell you what he texted, but I see a pattern. He texts a different number every Friday. I will send the log to you, but I suspect these numbers are temporary.”

  Smith’s phone rang, and he answered it. “Yes? … Come on up.” He ended the call. “I had a team go through Sokolov’s house yesterday. We need help with his computer. My team broke into it, but there’s a protected section of the file system we can’t access.”

  “You found his house. Did Nassau Telecom give you his cell tracking?”

  “The tracking got us close, then our agents identified where he spent his nights.”

  A man knocked at the doorway and walked in carrying a computer tower. He set it on the floor, plugged it in, and hooked up the keyboard and mouse.

  Smith gave a USB thumb drive to Vyper. “We got this from his safe. Can’t crack the encryption.”

  Vyper inserted it into her laptop.

  “Aren’t you afraid it could—”

  “You think I will make some kind of rookie mistake?” She shook her head, copied the data, removed the thumb drive, and handed it back to Smith. Then she started the code cracking program. “This might take a while.”

  The man with Sokolov’s tower spoke to Vyper, “I set it up for remote access. The sign-on—”

  “I got it,” said Vyper. She accessed the computer and ran the code cracking program against the restricted files.

  Smith nodded at the other man, who stood and left the room.

  Vyper looked at the message when her laptop beeped. “The thumb drive data is available. It just looks like a jumble of numbers and letters to me—maybe bank account information. I will send it to you.”

  A few minutes later, the restricted files from the tower computer were ready. Vyper browsed through the contents. “This one is interesting—a list of Greek gods, but no explanation. Maybe they are codenames. Apollo and Hermes are highlighted.” She typed a command. “I just sent you the files.”

  Nassau, Bahamas

  A thousand miles south, Niko stood before his network security class. Fifteen students listened attentively as he spoke. Two men in their early twenties, dressed like they just came from the gym, sat next to each other in the front row. Niko knew their names—Ramon Roberts and Jalen Sawyer—both Blue Koala employees.

  A network diagram was projected on the screen at the front of the room. It showed computers, firewalls, private network servers, and Onion routers.

  Ramon asked a question. “Onion routers—you mean TOR?”

  Niko nodded. “TOR stands for ‘The Onion Router’. It’s the most common way to access the Dark Net.”

  Jalen raised his hand. “TOR’s anonymous, right? How’s it work? Some kind of directory?”

  “That’s a great question,” said Niko, “but well beyond the scope of this class.”

  Jalen scrunched his nose.

  “TOR directory structure is a subject best discussed over a beer.” Niko reached for the stack of papers on his desk. “But now it’s time for our red-blue team exercise. Those of you on the red team will attack the networks defended by the blue team.” He described the rules and handed out the assignments.

  While the students worked to attack and defend, Niko started the badge reader app Miss Q had given him. If he could move his phone close to Ramon or Jalen, he might be able to copy their Blue Koala access badge. But he had to get within six inches of the card—and it wouldn’t work if they didn’t bring the card to class.

  Niko walked among the students during the exercise. He looked over their shoulders, asked questions, and gave advice. Standing between Ramon and Jalen, Niko cupped his phone as he moved his hand low along the back of one chair and then the other. No signal from either back pocket.

  Standing next to Jalen, he let his hand swing close to a front pocket. He reached over the man’s shoulder, getting close to his shirt pocket. Nothing he tried returned positive results.

  After the red-blue exercise ended, Niko did a wrap-up and dismissed the class.

  As the students filed out of the room, Jalen hung back for another question. “Professor Zhora, you mean what you say?”

  Niko shrugged his shoulders and smiled. “I said a lot of things, Jalen. And I usually mean what I say.”

  “TOR network directories—you tell me more over a beer?”

  “Sure thing. I’ve only checked out a few bars since I arrived. You got any place in mind?”

  “Me and Ramon go to Club Wahoo. Not jam up. We go Thursdays after work. You play darts?”

  Perfect. This would be an ideal opportunity for Niko to copy their badges. “I play darts, but probably not as good as you. When do you guys get off work?”

  “We work eight to eight. Always there by eight-thirty.”

  “Sounds good, Jalen. See you tomorrow night.”

  After class, Niko went back to his apartment. He was confident he could copy Jalen’s badge, but there was a lot more to do. He studied the live videos from inside the Coral datacenter, and he pored over the engineering documents for the center and many of their clients. He launched a network probe to identify the equipment inside each cage. Before going in, he would know more about this center than most of the people who worked there.

  In the evening, he called Vyper. “Did they tell you how long you’ve got to stay in the hospital?”

  She answered with excitement in her voice. “Tomorrow is my last day here. I am going back to the safe house in Warrenton on Friday.”

  “I’m surprised. I thought you’d be there a week.”

  “The doctor said something about my immune system. I will be glad to get out of this bed. All my computer equipment is in Warrenton. I want to make a few modifications.”

  “I’m glad to see you’
re back to normal.” Niko laughed. “Thinking about your computers.”

  “Not just my computers. I asked Smith if our military is on high alert. He refused to talk about it. I think he used my software for something having to do with nuclear weapons.”

  “I think you’re right. And don’t forget the firmware you gave him. That was definitely for a dangerous weapon. But you know he can’t tell us anything. And worrying about it won’t change a thing.”

  “You are keeping something from me. You think you know what is going on. Tell me.”

  Niko had a few theories, but he never put it into words until now. “You remember when Smith told us we were working for the CIA? He said we would go on offense.”

  “I remember. But I do not think the CIA has done anything offensive. Maybe the Moscow Metro, but nothing since then.”

  “The Moscow trains were a small operation,” said Niko. “A response to the Russian attacks on our action centers. When Russia escalated and went after LA’s electrical grid and Rockefeller Petroleum, we did nothing.”

  “Why not?”

  “I think the White House is afraid to escalate. I think the CIA is planning a major response—something that threatens their nukes—and Russia may have found out.”

  “You think they used my software against Russia’s nuclear weapons?”

  “Maybe. I think the CIA is prepared to unleash their attack—whatever it is—as soon as they receive government approval. If the Russian attack against Calvert Cliffs can’t be stopped, I believe the White House would approve the CIA plan.”

  Vyper was silent. She often did this during moments of stress. Niko could visualize her hands flapping, her head rocking.

  While he waited, Niko ran a search for rumors posted on Russian-speaking websites frequented by ex-military.

  Finally, Vyper spoke in a soft voice. “If the US suspected the software used for our own nuclear weapons to be under attack, we would take them offline immediately. Then we would rebuild the systems from scratch—using backup software known not to be infected.”

  Niko thought it through a few steps further. “If the Russian response was the same, their weapons would be useless until everything was rebuilt. They would feel vulnerable to attack from us. If they went on high alert, we would know—that could explain why we went to DEFCON 3.”

  “I have a bad feeling,” said Vyper. “If the CIA managed to slip my firmware into the Russians’ backup library, their technicians might load my version in response to the cyber threat. It could be loaded on some of their missiles.”

  Niko spotted something in the responses from the web search he kicked off earlier. “Someone on a Russian site mentioned KILROY.” He typed in a few more commands. “They’re asking others on the site if they know who KILROY is. They say KILROY hacked into their systems.”

  Final Preparation

  Chapter 30

  Nassau, Bahamas

  On Thursday night at 8:30, Niko walked along a narrow cobblestone street in downtown Nassau. Shops and bars on both sides were covered with posters and graffiti. Up ahead, he spotted a wooden sign with a smiling cartoon fish on a spear—his destination, Club Wahoo.

  Inside, dozens of patrons in tropical shirts sat on high-top chairs around small tables watching baseball on large-screen TVs suspended above the bar. No dart board in sight.

  As he walked closer to the back of the room, the ambiance changed. A young Bahamian couple sat at a small bar decorated above by cheap strings of Christmas lights. Jalen and Ramon sat with a third man on pink chairs around a bright green table, their attention captured by the actions of another man standing with a dart in his hand.

  Jalen cheered when the dart hit the target. He raised a bottle of beer to his lips and swallowed the remaining liquid.

  When the man went to retrieve his darts, Niko walked over to their table. “Jalen … Ramon. I found the place.”

  “Professor Zhora.” Jalen stood and grabbed an unoccupied chair from a nearby table. “Have a seat.” He moved the chair to their table and encouraged his friends to make room.

  “Please call me Anton,” said Niko. “We’re not in class here.”

  While Niko took a seat, Jalen introduced him to everyone, including the man who returned with the darts.

  Niko glanced at the bottles of Kalik sitting around the table. He raised his hand for a waiter and ordered five more beers.

  Ramon turned the conversation toward computers and networks. Jalen joined in asking Niko about the finer points of the TOR network. The other men at the table seemed uninterested.

  When the second round of beers arrived, Niko excused himself to go to the men’s room. On his return, he walked past a large Bahamian man, brushing against him lightly on the way to his table.

  The man grabbed Niko by the shoulder and spun him around.

  Niko looked him in the eye. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to bump you.”

  The big man glanced at his friends with a smile, then glared at Niko. “You do not belong here. Leave now before you get hurt.”

  Niko pointed to the table with Jalen and friends. “I’m here with them.” He started to turn around when the man made a fist and took a swing at him.

  His Krav Maga training automatically engaged. Niko brought his left arm up to block the blow. He turned to grab the man’s wrist with his right. “I’ll bet your beer’s getting warm. I know mine is.”

  The man’s eyes narrowed as he tried to pull his hand away. “You punk. I’ll —”

  Niko twisted the wrist outward.

  Surprise and pain showed on the man’s face as his body tried to follow his wrist while his knees buckled.

  Still holding the wrist, Niko pulled the man to his feet. “I really must get back to my friends now.” He let go. “Unless you had something else to say.”

  “You’ll pay for—”

  Niko twisted his wrist once more. “What were you saying?”

  “Nothing,” said the man. He shook his head and walked away.

  Niko took a seat. “What’s with that asshole?”

  Jalen shook his head. “Bad juju that one.” He raised his bottle in a mock toast. “You taught him a lesson, you did. Where’d you learn that move?”

  “High school,” said Niko. “I was a wrestler.”

  Ramon laughed. “Must have wrestled some tough guys.” He pointed to Niko’s missing finger. “What’s the story with that?”

  Niko narrowed his eyes. “If I tell you, I’ll have to kill you.”

  Everyone at the table looked confused, maybe even worried.

  Laughing, Niko added, “Just kidding. I did something dumb with a table saw in wood shop.”

  Ramon confessed the dumb things he did in school, and the others joined in with stories of their own.

  Niko got out his phone, took group pictures and selfies, then showed everyone the results. At one point, he got close enough to Jalen’s pocket that the phone vibrated—indicating proximity to a security badge. A longer vibration followed, indicating a successful copy.

  After his third beer, Niko said his goodbyes and headed back to the apartment where he turned on the local news. He set up the badge-making equipment and created a copy of Jalen’s ID with his own photo on the front.

  A television reporter caught Niko’s attention—something about new developments in the mysterious shootout Monday night in Highland Park:

  Police originally confirmed the death of two drug dealers, but our investigators obtained the photo of a third man. He is said to be alive, but comatose.

  A picture of Sokolov appeared on the screen. He was lying in a hospital bed with his eyes closed. According to the news report, no one could identify the man and police refused to comment.

  The picture must have been taken by someone in the Nassau hospital, because the CIA had flown Sokolov to the States on Tuesday. Niko wondered if Zatan had seen the same the article.

  He called Vyper. “I’ll bet you’re happy to be leaving the hospital. I wish I could be the
re with you.”

  “I miss you, too.” There was a sadness to her voice. “But we’ve got to finish everything with Zatan first.”

  “You all set for the trip?”

  “I just lie in bed. Smith’s people do all the work.”

  “Something has come up.” Niko took a breath. If he remained calm, perhaps Vyper wouldn’t be overly alarmed. “Sokolov’s picture is in the papers. It’s a recent one—probably from the hospital. No one has identified him, but local reporters are investigating.”

  Vyper’s breath was uneven, then the phone went silent for nearly a minute. Finally, she spoke. “Zatan will not discover this right away. When he does, I am not sure what he will do.”

  “I think his first priority would be to bury the story. If the Russians learn he hid Sokolov from them, Zatan would be a dead man. I’m pretty sure he’ll go after Sokolov’s money, too—assuming he doesn’t already know where it is.”

  “You could be in danger, Niko. Zatan might come to Nassau.”

  “I’ve been thinking about it. If we abort the operation, Zatan will still be out there—a danger to you. Also, Smith is counting on us to stop the Russians. Maybe we can stop this nuclear standoff.”

  “So, you intend to go ahead with the plan?”

  “Yes. We have one more day to work out the details. Then Saturday, I go in.”

  ***

  On Friday afternoon, Niko tried on the dark blue coveralls delivered earlier by the CIA. The logo of Zettabyte, a major computer storage vendor, was embroidered below the collar. According to datacenter records, Zettabyte personnel often delivered service to Blue Koala and other datacenter clients late at night and on weekends. Anyone in this familiar uniform would blend into the background.

  He reviewed the details of his Blue Koala network diagrams. Most of the details were probably accurate, except for the restricted portion. For that section, he made an informed guess. Tomorrow, when he got inside, he’d have a bit more information to go on. Hopefully, he’d have a cable in his toolkit that could make the connection.

  By the time the sun set, he was ready. He made a call to Vyper. “How are you feeling? Are you all moved in?”