The facility is a small cog in the greatest global surveillance effort, codenamed ECHELON, ever undertaken by one of the most well-funded intelligence organizations in the United States: the National Security Agency (NSA). ECHELON has been credited with the success of managing the most sophisticated global spy network in existence. Its purpose is simple: to capture and analyze every phone call, fax, email and text message sent anywhere on the globe.
Controlled by the NSA, ECHELON is operated in conjunction with government agencies such as England’s Government Communications Head Quarters (GCHQ), Canada’s Communications Security Establishment (CSE), the Australian Defense Signals Directorate (DSD), and New Zealand’s General Communications Security Bureau (GCSB). In 1948 these agencies executed a secret agreement called the UKUSA alliance, whose terms and polices still remain active into the 21st century. Thus far only Australia has admitted its participation in the alliance, with the NSA still refusing to answer any inquiries from Congress about ECHELON’s active programs.
Project ECHELON’s ability to intercept the majority of the world’s communications traffic is mind-bending. Being one of ECHELON’s many tactically positioned interception stations, Pine Gap’s satellite dishes capture all satellite, microwave, cellular and fiber optic communications traffic.
ECHELON’s strength is its ability to comprehensively and simultaneously sweep, intercept, decrypt, examine and filter messages into preselected categories on a macro scale for further analysis by intelligence agents. The intercepted intelligence is processed through an array of next-generation supercomputers which automatically search through the millions of intercepted messages for pre-programmed keywords of code phrases. Having both voice recognition and optical character recognition capabilities, ECHELON’s powerful computers can transcribe conversations into text as well as target an individual’s unique voice pattern such that every call made by that person can be pre-programmed to be recorded and transcribed for further analysis.
The system churns away 24 hours a day, day after day, year after year, crawling the internet, telecommunication networks and satellite signals for targeted keywords, diagrams or specified voiceprints. Any person, located anywhere, is susceptible to being monitored by ECHELON. However, only messages containing keywords, or ‘hits’, are flagged for further scrutiny. Hence ECHELON’s true power lies in its ability to efficiently cull the avalanche of intercepted messages and signals down to only those deemed critically important or of tactical interest to the intelligence community.
The Pine Gap station, along with all monitoring posts within the ECHELON system, are designated a unique list of keywords and diagrams which it constantly uses to sweep intercepted communications. It is then the responsibility of the onsite intelligence analysts to add, delete or change keyword search criteria whenever updates are issued by the NSA.
*
Rubbing his eyes, the Pine Gap Signals Intelligence Manager sat at his desk, robotically scanning through the evening’s list of flagged messages, searching for anything of tactical relevance. His small office was separated from the main underground open space containing countless rows of networked servers.
Having worked past midnight, he felt the weariness of early hours weighing heavily as the minutes passed. He sifted quietly through the flagged interceptions that had been automatically compiled and prioritized by the supercomputing workhorses. On the desk next to him was a half-full coffee cup which had long since reached room temperature.
He almost tipped his coffee cup over when his concentration was unexpectedly disrupted by the beeping of his half-hidden desk monitor. He adjusted his glasses then cleared away the disorganized collage of sticky post-it notes to reveal a blinking screen.
An alarm had been set off, sending text flashing in the middle of the screen. Framed within a big red box was an unexpected message:
SERVER 1701. PRIORITY MATCH. TOP SECRET UMBRA DIRECTIVE.
The Signals Intelligence Manager’s brow furrowed. He recalled that the 1700 array of computers were assigned to intercept emails. Server 1701 had made a significant match, indicating that its find had been ultra-sensitive.
“Top Secret UMBRA,” he whispered to himself in amazement.
His senses tingled at the sight of the word “UMBRA”. He knew that such a high level of classification once existed for only the most sensitive of materials, but he’d never come across any matches that had been predetermined to require such a high level of secrecy.
He threw down his pencil and launched himself out of his chair, immediately dashing from the office to find server 1701. He ran along the length of the computer aisles, reading the array designations as they flew past.
1450.
1500.
1550.
1600.
1650.
1700.
There it is!
He slid along the tiled floor to slow his pace and grabbed the edge of an end desk to sling himself around the corner. Three seconds later he found himself standing in front of server 1701, gasping for air, trying to refresh his lungs.
He stood there staring at 1701’s screen a long moment, processing the displayed image. The interception didn’t make any sense. On the screen before him was a copy of Jake’s email to the steel fabricator, showing his sketch of the exotic looking I-beam.
CHAPTER 14
The setting sun had almost disappeared as its orange-crimson light streamed through the Gulfstream’s side cabin window. It illuminated the rising cigarette smoke that ascended to the cabin’s ceiling in a tight narrow column, dispersing as it made contact with the overhead no-smoking sign.
Mr. Sabre was inclined to hold his cigarette at the base of his first and second fingers. He sat alone in the modestly fitted out jet. Uncompromisingly spacious, his surroundings were adorned with luxurious couches, a self-contained bar and several full-sized office desks.
Cell phones don’t work at 32,000 feet. However, being linked to a secure satellite network via the jet’s own comms system, Mr. Sabre’s personal phone beeped from the inside pocket of his dark suit jacket.
His tone was crisp as he answered, “Sabre here.”
The voice on the line was dry but efficient. “We have a developing situation.”
“Understood, sir.”
The line went dead.
Sabre reached back inside his jacket, pocketing his phone.
Developing situation, he thought.
His eyes drifting out toward the darkening sky, Sabre felt a shiver of apprehension. He tried to recall a previous occasion when his immediate superior, the head of a secret unacknowledged department of the National Security Agency, had personally called to use the words “developing situation”. He couldn’t.
It must be serious if Thirty-three makes the call himself!
Thirty-three’s discrete NSA department managed a multitude of Unacknowledged Special Access Projects (USAPs) that were completely black in that their funding was kept “off the books” – not auditable by Congress for reasons of national security. It has been estimated that up to between 3.5 and 4 trillion taxpayer dollars are spent annually on USAPs.
Such Special Access Projects under the charter of Thirty-three’s department were engaged in extraterrestrial contact and the back-engineering and replicating of ET technology for assimilation into human terrestrial technology. This secret organization that employed Mr. Sabre was known as the Extraterrestrial Contact Intelligence Organization (ECIO).
With its headquarters in New Mexico, the ECIO has agents in all member countries of the European Union and throughout South East Asia. Predominantly unknown, even to very senior directors within the NSA, the ECIO is the least known government organization within the intelligence community and has enjoyed complete anonymity since its inception.
Its personnel and agents comprise mostly scientific and military elite who are paid extraordinary salaries to match their equally high IQs or security clearances. Moreover, the extraordinary salaries were incentives
to guarantee their complete anonymity as employees.
The head of ECIO is a genius who is unparalleled in both knowledge and intelligence. Thirty-three was identified early in his academic years as being extremely gifted. As a teenager he wanted to build computers that could think and learn for themselves, a concept that was unheard of in the mid-1960s.
He was thus not taken seriously by his professors, being told to get in line with academic protocols and pursue more conventional lines of research. Bell Labs heard about his awesome intellect and hired him without hesitation in a covert effort to remove him from university before he’d have a chance to establish himself within academic circles. But he quickly outpaced Bell’s research agenda, wanting instead to develop exotic technologies years ahead of what was achievable at the time. He was then introduced to the ECIO through its alliance with Bell Labs, subsequently joining the ECIO at the age of 21.
Decades later, and now head of the ECIO, he continues to ensure that the ECIO not only possesses unmatched technical capabilities, but also has access to technologies decades ahead of any other agency or research facility on the planet. His name, Thirty-three, signifies his security clearance level, thirty-three being the highest of the upper echelon of the ECIO’s security levels.
Mr. Sabre reached for the plane’s intercom switch to hail the pilot. “Turn around, we’re heading back.”
“Sir?” The pilot sounded confused.
“Our mission has changed.”
“I understand, sir.”
*
The jet banked west toward the small patch of sky that was still ablaze after the sun crept beneath the horizon. Its fuselage glimmered as the jet turned. With no insignia or any identification markings whatsoever, the plane’s exterior was simply matte black.
CHAPTER 15
Hundreds of miles away a retired scientist labored alone in his urban apartment.
Despite having previously served as a scientific consultant to four previous Presidents and the National Security Council, as well as serving as a flight surgeon and counterintelligence officer to the Central Intelligence Agency and National Security Agency, the ailing scientist now worked from home, a shadow of his fit and active former self.
He worked at his desk within his study; the modest room was filled with computers, two electron microscopes, medical reference literature and lab equipment. His walls honoured his late wife and young son, their images comforting him no matter which room in the apartment he occupied at any given time.
Distracted, he glanced at a notification that blinked on a computer screen at his desk:
NRO TSSCI PRIORTY DISTRIBUTION.
TSSCI stood for Top Secret Sensitive Compartmented Information. He felt the familiar sense of urgency in receiving encrypted messages from the National Reconnaissance Office, the government’s espionage agency now declassified since 1992. He was on indefinite leave due to his failing health so no longer received the stream of daily intelligence reports the NRO routinely issued to the CIA and NSA. But his Above Top Secret clearance status had been maintained from his previous role as the leader of the National Security Council’s Special Studies Group and kept him on the very short distribution list for ultra-classified reports deemed to be extremely sensitive in nature.
The 56-year-old scientist slowly extended a weakening hand to his desktop computer to execute a decoding application to decrypt the incoming report. An instant later his screen was filled with an intercepted email. Astonished, the scientist cocked his head, intensely studying the image attached to the intercepted correspondence.
On the screen before him was a hand-drawn image of a fully dimensioned sketch which appeared to be an exotic looking but familiar I-beam. The scientist’s curious eyes scanned for the author of the correspondence; the name listed was Jake Marcel.
CHAPTER 16
Standing to face their opponents, two lines of student warriors stretched the length of the dojo. The late afternoon light streamed sideways through the hall’s roof level clerestory windows, filtering the sunlight into rays of muted yellows and orange. Through patches of light and shade their teacher strolled down the middle of the formation, closely inspecting each kendo student’s stance.
The sensei checked that each student’s upper body was maintained upright with shoulders kept squarely aligned to their hips and knees. Both feet must face straight forward, the right foot in front of the left. The left heel is to be kept slightly off the floor with the right foot anchored flat. This posture is intended to allow the students to achieve an optimum balance between mobility and stability.
Because kendo swings were designed to develop maximum power around one’s centerline, one of Sensei’s first lessons was the importance of facing one’s opponents squarely. Thus, when students faced their opponents during sparring practice, they always lined up such that their opponent’s centerline was directly in line with their own. When their opponent moved, Sensei instructed them not to compensate by altering their swing, but instead to adjust their body positioning to keep moving with their opponent’s and always face them squarely, allowing the students to swing about their body’s centerline to develop maximum power with every strike.
Moving through the center of the lined formation, Sensei scrutinized the students’ uniforms, checking that armor was being correctly worn. All were fitted with traditional kendo armor that shielded the head, throat, wrist and abdomen to protect against being struck by an opponent’s shinai, the split-bamboo swords wielded by the students during practice.
With years of dedicated training etched into the deep lines on his face, the kendo instructor radiated an aura of pride as he passed by each of his students.
Now approaching the last student at the end of the lines, Sensei met eyes with the younger warrior as he spoke, his voice reverberating off the dojo’s walls. “Kendo wa ken no riho no shuren ni o ru ningen keisei michi de aru.” To polish one’s skill with the sword is to polish one’s soul as a human being.
Turning back, he peered down the middle of the students facing each other. With shinai raised at their opponents, they stretched out along the length of the hall ready to fight on command.
Switching to English, the sensei’s accent was coarse. “Kendo, the way of the sword, has its origins with the samurai. Its ways have been passed down through the Japanese culture for centuries.”
Now moving back through the center of the formation, the instructor passed between the raised wooden swords.
He locked eyes with each student he passed. “The concept of kendo is to discipline the human character through the application of the principles of the Katana…the sword. As you train, you must remember the purpose of practicing… To mould the mind and body… To cultivate a vigorous spirit… And through correct and rigid training, to strive for improvement in the art of kendo.”
With hands held behind his back, the sensei continued. “Thus, one may be able to hold in esteem human courtesy and honour… To associate with others with sincerity… And to forever pursue the cultivation and control of oneself.”
Still moving through the raised weapons, he was silent a moment as he gathered his thoughts. “The ability to control oneself will set you apart from any aggressor. You need to keep practicing until you can summon the release of adrenalin at will. Once you master this ability, it will make you, for a very short period, super-human. In that short period you can do anything, achieve anything and defeat anyone!”
Having now reached the opposite end of the lined formation he paused, giving the students time to absorb the lesson.
After a long moment he turned back to again face the parallel lines of drawn swords extending down the length of the dojo. “One more round for today.”
Drawing in a deep breath he commanded, “Chudan no kamae!”
The students’ reaction was immediate. The parallel lines readied their stance, the tips of their swords leveled at their opponents’ throats.
Jake Marcel stood in formation at the opposite e
nd from where the sensei stood. Gripping his shinai firmly, he was conscious not to squeeze too tightly as it would inhibit fluid movement. He locked eyes with his opponent, a slightly shorter fighter who returned an equally piercing stare. Both stood ready in anticipation for what was to follow.
With a force generated from deep within, the sensei’s command hit the students like a sonic shockwave: “HAJIME!”
*
Instantly the two disciplined rows dissolved into a chaotic swarm as the student warriors broke into pairs engaged in combat. As all were adorned in protective armor, they swung at their opponents with full force, wooden swords colliding.
Jake opted to retreat from the mass of furious exchanges and deafening cracks. Beckoning his opponent to follow, he backed into a less populated area of the hall where there was more room to fight.
In a series of flowing exchanges, Jake and his opponent blocked, attacked and blocked again. Known as one of the class’s more proficient fighters, his opponent was swift and confident, waiting for the moment when Jake dropped his guard. But Jake held steady.
Being higher in rank, his opponent asserted himself by advancing with every repetitive strike, attempting to break an opening through Jake’s guard. And yet Jake did not back down, blocking and counterstriking in flowing movements.
Not taking any notice of the duels erupting around them, Jake and his adversary moved through the middle of the surrounding skirmishes now evenly scattered throughout the dojo.
Although only a couple of minutes had passed, Jake felt like he had been duelling with the higher ranking fighter for much longer. Side stepping each other’s advances, they orbited each other, switching positions as their furious exchanges increased in intensity. With crashing force his opponent was on him again, and still Jake kept blocking each blow.
Eventually it was his opponent’s overconfidence that was his undoing. Jake noticed that the other had a tendency to overcommit his follow-through when he swung, favoring throwing his full body weight into his attacks without restraint. By putting all his weight into each swing, inertia was dictating the direction in which his opponent’s body would move with each blow.
Disclosing the Secret Page 6