Satan's Spy (The Steve Church saga Book 2)

by André Le Gallo

  He leaned forward to look at his notes on the table and continued, “On the Fourth of July 2009, computers at Treasury, the Secret Service, Department of Homeland Security, and Wall Street were knocked out. The suspect was North Korea, but we don’t know. The truth is we don’t know who was behind any of these. The usual suspects are the Chinese, al Qaeda, the Russians, and maybe the North Koreans. There’s no reason why the Iranians couldn’t have developed their own capability, especially with Russian help, as the report claims. Based on fragmented information, it’s clear that the skills and technology used against us is growing in leaps and bounds. It’s what we don’t know that is frightening. “

  “Well ladies and gentlemen?” Tremaine asked. “Is the report credible, and if it is, what do we do?”

  “This is too important not to confirm or deny before we take action,” Orling, said. “I believe that we should talk to the Russians. After all, there is a specific name in the report, what is it again ‘Kazak,’ Kozak?’”

  “Isn’t that like asking the five year old if he stole the cookies?” Lefty Killcut chuckled pointing his comment toward Orling.

  “Thanks for reminding me,” Thérèse interjected. “We confirmed that Viktor Kozak was instrumental in Russia’s 2008 denial of service attack against Georgia.”

  “Admiral Wynn,” Larry Okoth, Tremaine’s National Security Advisor, asked. “Do we have any other evidence that Iran is behind the probes?”

  “No, sir, that’s the beauty of cyber war. It’s easy to hide behind other countries’ computers. The initiator can capture hundreds or thousands of zombie machines, create an incredible level of power, and aim it at one or several key nodes. And it ties up resources to determine the real source of any attack.”

  “Could we withstand a major attack?” Tremaine interrupted beginning to show impatience. “What’s the worst case?”

  “In spite of the counter-cyber capabilities we now have,” Wynn said, “a powerful and smart attack could take down our air traffic control, our ATMs, make our oil and gas pipelines dysfunctional by disabling the SCDAs, the little black boxes that run the system, and cause a lack of power for six months or more by disabling the power grid. There’s more but you get the idea. I haven’t mentioned destroying our data bases at Treasury, Social Security, medical installations, and financial institutions.”

  “Tom, you haven’t said anything,” Tremaine looked at his National Intelligence Council Chief.

  “Well,” Tom Garrett, formerly Director of the Department of State’s Intelligence and Research, “we could do a National Intelligence Estimate on the subject. A fast one, say, six weeks. Get the best minds in the country to work on this.”

  “Why don’t you do that Tom?” Tremaine directed leaning forward in his seat. “With a report in a week or ten days at the latest. In the meantime, I want a proposal for a defense that is fail-safe, one that will keep our economy from being crippled.”

  He looked at the NSA chief, “I want a proposal from you also within a week or ten days. And it better jive with Tom’s report, so you two need to coordinate. Make it a Manhattan Project for counter cyber war.”

  He looked at Deuel and LaFont. “Good work. Obviously, we need more. Is there a timeframe? What are the actual targets? Talk to Admiral Wynn for ground truth requirements.”

  “I wouldn’t discuss it with the Russians,” Tremaine said curtly to the State Department contingent. “Walter, Thérèse, any problem with sharing the report with the U.S. Interests Section?”

  “I would prefer that the Chargé come back here for consultations, Mr. President,” Deuel said. “The Interest Section is located in a foreign embassy.” “First, the Interests Section is in the Swiss Embassy, the Swiss Embassy for God’s sake,” Orling said looking at Deuel with exasperation. “The world confides its funds to the Swiss. I think that your report will be safe.”

  He then turned toward the president. “Second, Mr. President, provocative action might give our enemies cause to worry, because Iran may not be the only source of cyber threats. Instead, what if we simply told the Iranians that we know what they’re up to and that it is simply not the way to continue the recent improvement in our bilateral relations?”

  “That is admitting that we are stealing their secrets,” Thérèse said, almost jumping out of her seat, “and their counterespionage people will simply arrest our case officer, and our agent, and have a fine old public trial that would have made Stalin jealous. I don’t think that’s the best we can do.” She looked first at Deuel and then at the president for support.

  Gary Short, the grey-haired director of the National Security Council, whose unbuttoned shirt collar showed over a green tie decorated with golf clubs, balls and tees, spoke for the first time, “Seems to me we should devise both defensive and offensive options. If we’re attacked, that’s an act of war. We have to let the bastards have it.”

  “If,” Wynn said, “we know who the attacker is.”

  “Since this would be an act of war,” Short continued, “we have to get our NATO partners on board. An attack against one is an attack against all. And I recommend that we get NATO energized now, not afterward.”

  “I agree with that,” the president said concluding the meeting. “State and the Joint Chiefs need to work together here to contact our allies now, today. In terms of other planning, we’re not looking for a ten year plan. We need actions that can be implemented in days, maybe hours, not years. In the meantime, we will go to DEFCON 3. I’m ready to go to DEFCON 2 if we can obtain confirming intelligence from your intercepts,” he looked at Wynn, “or from your agent,” he looked at Deuel and LaFont.

  “Agreed?” Tremaine asked the entire room but his glance fixed on General Doredo.

  “Frankly, Mr. President, I think that we’re over reacting. DEFCON 4 should be sufficient. After all, the intelligence is shaky. I also want to remind everyone that Saudi Arabia and the UAE have ordered a $25 billion military package to include air defense and Terminal High Altitude Area Defense, an advanced anti-ballistic missile system. And we now have two cruisers equipped with Aegis Ballistic Missile Defense system in the Gulf.”

  “Your point, General?” Tremaine asked, his brow furrowed, his head pointing above the general and his eyes looking down at him. “

  “Iran wouldn’t dare attack us at home.”

  “DEFCON 3 it is, then. General Doredo, Admiral Wynn please coordinate our defensive posture starting immediately. I also want a strong cyber retaliatory plan. Walter, keep us informed.”

  Tremaine turned toward Deuel and LaFont. “I know that part of the CIA credo is to take care of its agents, keep them from harm. In this case, the safety of the country takes precedence. If he can get out of Iran, we’ll take care of your agent, XYSENTINEL. But getting the actionable intelligence is the first priority.”

  “And what about our officers Steve Church and Kella Hastings?” Thérèse, leaning slightly, whispered to Walter Deuel who kept a poker face as Tremaine’s gaze shifted again in their direction.

  As everyone filed out, Deuel approached the president and held LaFont back with him. “Mr. President we need another few minutes alone.”

  After everyone else filed out, Deuel said, “We have a leak problem. The Washington Tribune is threatening to publish the fact that we have a case officer in Tehran. That would be disastrous for our operation, and we can forget about obtaining the additional information we need. I called Glick a few days ago and he’s held off so far, but he called me again early this morning to tell me that he has Representative Langdon’s support, the Chair of the House Intelligence Oversight committee. The article wasn’t in this morning’s paper but I’m sure it’ll appear tomorrow. Maybe if you called him...”

  “That’s one thing I can’t do; interfere with the press. First Amendment rights are sacrosanct as far I’m concerned. It’s a matter of principle. Leaks are your problem. You have to control your people.”

  “Mr. President, if the Tribune gets our asset a
rrested, that’s the end of any hope to obtain further information.” LaFont said—though she was thinking, The Tribune helped you get elected. “We might have to pull our officer out quickly. His cover company received a call to confirm his credentials. That’s unusual. It means that Iran security is suspicious.”

  * **

  As Deuel, LaFont, and the president talked, the rest of the group took the elevator back to street level. On the way up, a male voice said, “Rookie! Short deadlines equal bad staff work. He thinks he’s captain of a speedboat, but he’s going to find out that it’s a supertanker with very little maneuverability.”

  The comment elicited knowing chuckles reflecting on their conviction that the president had handed them a “mission-impossible” task unless they received more intelligence, and quickly.

  31. Tehran: Ketaki Restaurant

  Steve admired Kella’s body as she walked toward his table, knowing well what was hidden under that loose clothing. She sat down. The restaurant was large, popular, and noisy. The sounds of chairs and tables moving against tile floors were like bullet ricochets off the non-absorbent surfaces while the customers’ voices added a persistent background of waves breaking on the rocks but without the rhythm.

  “Be careful, that hijab is slipping. Allowing the men to see your hair is going to drive them crazy. What’s going on?” he said. “Miss me?”

  She didn’t return his smile.

  “We have a flash message from home,” she said in a voice that Steve had to lean forward to understand. “It’s a warning. Your company Magnum Controls in St. John’s received two calls asking for you by name. Your boss said that you were traveling overseas. So far, so good, right?”

  “Two calls? From the same person?”

  “No. The first seemed to be checking up on you, an English speaker but with an accent. The second was an American voice. Said he was your tennis partner.”

  Steve took a sip of juice. “The first one must have been part of the Mousavi investigation to see if there was a real company in Newfoundland and whether they had ever heard of Christopher Breton. The second one could only be Firuz. I don’t know why he would call me in Canada. He has my hotel number. What else?”

  “Hold on to your seat! The Washington Tribune will print an article in the Tuesday edition, that’s tomorrow their time, that,” and her voice became lower, “dot, dot, dot, is running a clandestine operation in Tehran and has a case officer on the ground. Asking why take the risk when Iran is playing nice and allowing us to talk to them, and Iran did us the favor of also allowing our own diplomats into Tehran, etc.” She was shaking her head and Steve put his hand up to his forehead in disbelief, understanding the dot, dot, dot to stand for CIA.

  “Jesus! Who gains by this article?” he asked.

  Kella looked around nervously and motioned with her hand for Steve to keep his voice down. Steve lowered his voice but his anger was unabated.

  “The country? No. Our foreign policy? No. The American people? Hell no. It’s a ‘gotcha’ piece to sell papers and to claim to be the number one paper in the country. More probably, it’s the unelected folks of the media running our foreign policy. Either way, it’s disgusting!”

  Two young men tried to squeeze past in back of Steve, and he had to move his chair closer to the small table.

  “The only winner here is Iran,” Steve said thinking of the impact of the article on their mission. “Mousavi is going to go ballistic. An article like that is a direct challenge, a red cape in front of the bull. If he can’t arrest somebody, his head will roll.”

  “That’s not all. The president has our report and is taking action on it, emergency action. He, the president lui-même, wants more information, such as when is this cyberattack going to take place and against what targets specifically. NSA, and the whole national security establishment, it appears, is getting involved. NSA is going to submit a specific list of questions.”

  “So if I get this right, they’re telling us that our running room is less than it was, but that we need to run further.” He sat back, feeling helpless. “What about life with Farah? I can’t wait to meet her.”

  “Calm down. She’s too old for you.”

  “The sequence is wrong,” he said his mind still on Kella’s news. Replying to her puzzled look, he said, “I’m talking about the two discoveries that we’re here. First, Mousavi learns that there is an American spy on his turf. He organizes a huge dragnet. Then, but only then, does this article appear in Washington. So, Mousavi didn’t get his info from the Tribune.”

  “Could he have gotten wind of the contents of the article before it was published?”

  “Possible, but there are no Iranian diplomats in Washington. Would the leaker of the information have gotten in touch directly with the Iranians as well as given the information to the Tribune?”

  He raised his coffee cup thoughtfully before answering. “Doubtful,” he said, the cup hovering near his mouth. “We know that the U.S. Interest Section had been asked to accept a CIA officer on its staff for an important operation. Later, it was informed that, in view of its refusal, the CIA had sent a NOC to Tehran.”

  He finished his coffee in a gulp. “The leak is probably from the U.S. Interest section. Let’s test the hypothesis.”

  * **

  Kella’s nightly message to headquarters, which for the first time she sent from her bedroom in Farah’s apartment, transmitted Steve’s thoughts concerning the timing and the origin of the information obtained by Mousavi almost a week before the Tribune article, and suggested that Langley share certain information with the U.S. Interests Section.

  First, she had to address LaFont’s directive to leave Iran. She suspected LaFont’s message reflected the frequent lack of understanding between Headquarters and the field. So, she replied with some ground truths about their inability to just walk unimpeded into the U.S. Interests Section and shared Steve’s reordered priority on the cyber threat. She went to sleep turning over ideas on how to escape Mousavi’s net and whether Farah would or could help them.

  32. Tehran: Swiss Embassy, U.S. Interests Section

  This was not Jeff Crossley’s best day. The equivalent of a Chief of Mission, of an actual ambassador, in a country that was key to U.S. foreign policy in a region where American interests were the most vital, as measured in treasure and manpower, he was being treated by Washington like a third secretary in a backwater country.

  Why did he have to learn of the Bonifacio article in the Tribune from the Iranian Foreign Ministry? He wanted to get credit for having tried to keep the CIA officer out but admitting to the Iranians that Washington did want a CIA presence here was probably over the line. Instead, they accused him, the American representative—he knew they called him the ‘Great Satan’s little devil’ behind his back—of insulting Persian hospitality, of violating his diplomatic privileges, a totally spurious charge. It wasn’t his fault.

  Crossley had arrived at the Foreign Ministry office at 10 AM. The splendid low-slung building, which combined Art Deco with traditional Persian architecture, was Iran’s interface with the outside world. The sartorial standards here were less likely to represent the principals of the Revolution that demanded that men’s trousers be without creases to reflect the wearer’s frequent kneeling during obligatory prayers and that shoes be loafers with well pushed down heels for easy slipping on and off in entering and leaving the mosque. The young officers of the Foreign Ministry were more likely to wear standard diplomatic garb, suits and shined shoes or elegant hijabs.

  While Crossley did not always dress formally in a suit to every meeting he had with the Iranian bureaucracy, he did this time. Ties were inappropriate in the land of Velayat-e Faqih; they were symbols of crosses and therefore seen by true believers as an attempt to repudiate Islam.

  Faced with the Foreign Minister, his aide, the Director for the Western Hemisphere, and a note taker in the minister’s sumptuous office, Crossley had felt outnumbered and, when the Bonifacio article
surfaced, blind-sided. During the meeting, he insisted that he had no knowledge of spies, even resisting pronouncing the word, that it wasn’t true, until they showed him the article in America’s foremost newspaper. The Iranian Foreign Minister had pointed out that no one in the American Government had denied the truth of the article. Obviously, because it was true.

  The minister’s demand was quite simple, “Mr. Crossley, in all friendliness, this is what we will do. You will give us the name of your spy, or is there more than one? Our Minister of Intelligence will take it from there; put him on the plane and make sure that he goes home. The alternative is that we will hunt him down, arrest him, and let the judicial process do its work.” He raised his eyebrows and Crossley understood how the Iranian system processed suspected enemies of the state all the way to the gallows.

  In his office, Jeff Crossley was now crafting the telegram of his career, of his life. He compared himself to George Kennan writing the “Long Telegram” from Moscow in the 1940s, which became the basis for the U.S. Soviet policy of containment for fifty years.

  Crossley well understood a basic truth of diplomacy, the author of the report always wins, and he described a David and Goliath meeting. At the end, he implied that the idea for withdrawing the intelligence officer was his, an inspiration that would save the CIA officer’s life and the warming relations between the two countries. He would need to know how to find this individual.

  Better yet, he wrote, “Please instruct the CIA to have him report to me at the U.S. Interests Section, and after coordinating with appropriate Iranian authorities, I will escort him back to Washington myself.”