Threat Vector jrj-4

by Tom Clancy

  Finally the barn door shut behind him, his hood was removed, and he looked around.

  Dom and Sam were with him; they had also just had their hoods removed. Together the three of them looked across the dark barn interior at about two dozen men and women. They were all armed with rifles.

  A young woman walked up to the three Americans. “I am Yin Yin. I will be your translator.”

  Chavez was confused. The people in front of him looked like college kids. They did not look like criminals. Not one of them had an ounce of muscle on their bodies, and they looked scared.

  It was pretty much the opposite of what Ding had hoped to find.

  “You are Red Hand?” he asked.

  She made an expression of distaste and shook her head vigorously. “No, we are not Red Hand. We are Pathway of Liberty.”

  Ding, Sam, and Dom looked at one another.

  Sam said what was on the other men’s minds: “This is our rebel force?”

  Dom just shook his head in disgust. “We do any direct action with this gang, and we are condemning the entire movement to slaughter. Look at them. These folks couldn’t fight their way out of a paper bag.”

  Yin Yin heard this, and she stormed over to the three Americans. “We have been training.”

  “On Xbox?” asked Driscoll, coolly.

  “No! We have a farm where we have practiced with our rifles.”

  “Awesome,” muttered Dom. He looked to Chavez.

  Chavez smiled at the woman, doing his best to be the diplomat in the room. He excused himself and his colleagues, took Dom and Sam to a corner of the barn, and said, “Looks like Red Hand sold CIA a bill of goods. They passed us off to some coffee-shop student movement.”

  “Son of a bitch,” said Caruso. “These guys aren’t ready for prime time. That didn’t take long to figure out.”

  Chavez sighed. “I don’t really see how we can just walk out of here at this point. Let’s keep an open mind and spend some time with them to learn what they have accomplished. They may be just a gaggle of kids, but they sure as shit are brave to be standing up to the Chicom government in Beijing. We owe them some respect, guys.”

  “Roger that,” said Dom, and Driscoll just nodded.

  SIXTY-FIVE

  Valentin Kovalenko watched the news reports of another wild shooting on the streets of Washington, D.C. This time there were two fatalities, a Syrian cabdriver and an unidentified Asian man in his thirties. Witnesses said two vehicles fled the scene, and “dozens” of shots rang out during the gunfight.

  Valentin did not waste a moment wondering if this had something to do with the Center organization. He knew. And while it was apparent Center’s assassins had failed to eliminate their target, it was also obvious that their target was Darren Lipton’s agent.

  The address Kovalenko had given Lipton to pass on to his agent was less than a mile from the location of the shoot-out. That a submachine gun was used by the dead Asian made it even more obvious that this was a crew of Center’s people. Whether or not the dead man was Crane himself, Valentin had no idea, but it did not matter.

  Valentin understood the larger meaning of the news story.

  Center kills his own agents when he has no further use for them.

  Which was why Kovalenko turned off the television, went into the bedroom, and began throwing his clothes in a suitcase.

  He came out a few minutes later and went into the kitchen. He poured a double shot of cold Ketel One into a glass, and then drained it as he began packing items in the living room.

  Yes, he had SVR sanction, and yes, Dema Apilikov had told him to see this through, but he’d already seen enough through, and he knew that at any moment Crane or his goons could show up at his door and kill him, at which point his promise of a plum position in Moscow at R Directorate would lose its ability to motivate him onward.

  No. Valentin needed to run, to get away. From a place of safety he could negotiate with SVR for a return to active service, he could point to all the time he put his life on the line while going solo, working in Russia’s interests by following Center’s commands.

  That would get him back in the good graces of SVR.

  He reached to turn off his computer, and he saw Cryptogram was open and a new message was blinking. He figured Center was watching him right now, so he opened it and sat down.

  The message read: “We need to talk.”

  “So talk,” he typed.

  “On the phone. I will call.”

  Kovalenko’s eyebrows rose. He had not spoken to Center before. This was indeed odd.

  A new Cryptogram window opened on his computer, and on it was the icon of a telephone. Kovalenko plugged a set of headphones into his laptop and then double-clicked the icon.

  “Yes?”

  “Mr. Kovalenko.” The voice was a male in his forties or fifties, and he was most definitely Chinese. “I need you to remain in Washington.”

  “So you can send your people to kill me?”

  “I do not want to send my people to kill you.”

  “You just tried to kill Lipton’s girl.”

  “That is true, and Crane’s men failed. But that was because she stopped working for us without permission. I suggest you do not follow her path, because we will find her and the next time we will not fail.”

  Kovalenko needed some leverage, so he played the only card he had. “SVR knows all about you. They sanctioned me to continue helping you, but I am pulling the plug on this right now and getting out of here. You can try to send your Chinese wrecking crew to find me, but I will return to my former employers, and they will—”

  “Your former employers in SVR will shoot you on sight, Mr. Kovalenko.”

  “You aren’t listening to me, Center! I met with them, and they said—”

  “You met with Dema Apilikov on October twenty-first in Dupont Circle.”

  Kovalenko abruptly stopped talking. His hands squeezed the edge of the desk so tightly it seemed the wood would break off in his hands.

  Center knew.

  Center always knew.

  Still, that did not change a thing. Kovalenko said, “That’s right, and if you think about touching Apilikov, you will have the entire illegals department after you.”

  “Touch Apilikov? Mr. Kovalenko, I own Dema Apilikov. He has been working for me, providing details of SVR communications technology, for over two and a half years. I sent him to you. I could see that you were losing your vigor for the operation after the Georgetown action. I knew that the only way to bring you back into the program to the extent that you would follow orders was if you thought your efforts would earn you a glorious return to SVR.”

  Kovalenko slid off his chair, sat on the floor of his apartment, and cradled his head between his knees.

  “Listen to me very, very carefully, Mr. Kovalenko. I know that now you are thinking that there is no more incentive to follow my instructions. But you are wrong about that. I have wired four million euros into a bank account in Crete, and the money is yours. You won’t be able to return to SVR, but with four million euros you can do much with what is left of your life.”

  “Why should I believe you?”

  “Think back over our relationship. Have I ever lied to you?”

  “Is that a fucking joke? Of course you—”

  “No. I had others deceive you, yes. But I do not lie.”

  “All right, then. Give me the access code to the account.”

  “I will give it to you tomorrow morning.”

  Kovalenko just stared at the floor. He didn’t really care about the money, but he did want to be free of Center.

  “Why not give it to me now?”

  “Because you have one more task. One more very important task.”

  The Russian on the floor of the basement apartment in Dupont Circle heaved a long sigh. “What a fucking surprise.”

  * * *

  President Ryan was running on fumes at five in the afternoon, after having been up and hard at work si
nce three a.m. The day had been full of diplomatic and military crises; often success in one arena was offset by setbacks in another.

  In the South China Sea a pair of Chinese Z-10 attack helicopters flying off China’s aircraft carrier shot down two Vietnamese Air Force aircraft monitoring activity in Vietnam’s Exclusive Economic Zone. Just an hour and a half later, several companies of PLA paratroopers dropped in Kalayaan, a tiny Philippine island with a permanent population of only three hundred fifty, but also an island with a mile-long airstrip. They took the airfield, killing seven, and within a few hours more Chinese troops began landing in transport aircraft.

  American satellites had detected Chinese attack aircraft landing on the island as well.

  The Taiwanese destroyer that had been hit by the Silkworm missiles sank in Chinese waters, but the PLA had allowed the Taiwanese to enter China’s side of the strait for recovery of survivors. China very publicly claimed it had acted in self-defense, and Jack Ryan had gone before cameras at the White House to express outrage about China’s actions.

  He announced he would be sending the Nimitz-class carrier Dwight D. Eisenhower, currently with the Sixth Fleet in the Indian Ocean, farther to the east, to the mouth of the Strait of Malacca, the narrow waterway through which some eighty percent of Chinese oil passes. His rationale, delivered in measured tones to convey strength yet composure, was that America wanted to ensure the safe passage of world commerce through the strait, as if the Ike would go simply to ensure that the spigot of world trade continued to flow nicely. What he did not say, but which was clear to all with understanding of ocean commerce, was that the Ike could shut off the flow of Chinese oil much more easily than it could ensure the safe passage of container ships up the entire length of the South China Sea.

  It was a threatening gesture, to be sure, but it was a measured response, considering all China’s actions of the past few weeks.

  The Chinese, quite predictably, went ballistic. Their foreign minister, ostensibly the most diplomatic person in a nation of 1.4 billion, blew a gasket on Chinese National Television, and called the USA a world power run by criminals. The chairman of the Central Military Commission, Su Ke Qiang, released a statement saying America’s persistent interference with a Chinese internal security matter would cause an immediate and unwelcome response.

  The unwelcome response came at five minutes after five in the afternoon, when the NIPRINET, the Department of Defense’s unsecure network, went down under the weight of a massive denial-of-service attack. The entire U.S. military global supply chain — and a vast amount of its ability to communicate between bases, departments, forces, and systems— simply ceased to function.

  At five twenty-five, the secure DoD network began having drop-offs in bandwidth and problems with communications. Public military and U.S. government websites went down completely or were replaced with pictures and videos of American forces being killed in Afghanistan and Iraq, a sick and violent loop of images of exploding Humvees, sniper victims, and Jihadi propaganda.

  At five fifty-eight, a series of cyberkinetic attacks on critical infrastructure in the United States began. The FAA’s network went down, as did the Metro systems in most major cities along the eastern seaboard. Mobile phone service in California and Seattle became spotty or nonexistent.

  Almost simultaneously, in Russellville, Arkansas, the light water pumps at Arkansas Nuclear One, a pressurized-water- reactor nuclear power plant, suddenly shut down. A backup system failed as well, and the core temperature at the plant quickly began to rise as the fuel rods radiated more heat than the steam turbines could handle. As the system neared a potential meltdown, however, the Emergency Core Cooling System did function properly, and a crisis was averted.

  Jack Ryan walked the length of the Situation Room conference room, manifesting his anger in his movements instead of his tone. “Someone explain to me how the hell the Chinese are able to turn off equipment at our nuclear facilities?”

  The head of Cyber Command, General Henry Bloom, answered on video link from his crisis center in Fort Meade. “Many nuclear facilities, for purposes of efficiency, have linked their secure plant computer systems to their less secure corporate networks. A chain is only as strong as the weakest link, and many of our links are weakening instead of strengthening, as technology improves, because there is actually more integration, instead of more security.”

  “We have managed to keep the news of the attack at the plant secret for now, have we not?”

  “For now, sir. Yes.”

  “Tell me we saw this coming,” Ryan said.

  The head of Cyber Command said simply, “I’ve seen it coming for a long time. I’ve been putting out papers for a decade describing just exactly what we are all witnessing today. America’s cyberthreatscape, the spectrum of possible threats, is vast.”

  “What can we expect next?”

  Bloom said, “I would be stunned if Wall Street’s systems operated normally tomorrow morning. Banking and telecom are ripe targets for an attack of this magnitude. So far the electrical grid has not been attacked like it easily could be. I suspect large power outages across the country sooner rather than later.”

  “And we can’t stop it?”

  “We can fight back with whatever electronic resources they don’t rob from us. Something this large and well coordinated will take some time to combat. And there is something else you should know.”

  “What’s that?”

  “The networks that are not down, and I’m speaking of Intelink-TS, the CIA network, for example, are suspect.”

  “Suspect?”

  “Yes, Mr. President. I see their capability by what they have accomplished this evening. Anything left standing is only left standing because they are using it to spy on us.”

  “So they are inside the CIA’s digital brain?”

  Bloom nodded. “We have to operate under the assumption that they have deep persistent access to all our secrets.”

  Ryan looked to CIA Director Canfield and DNI Foley. “I would take General Bloom’s comments seriously.”

  Both Foley and Canfield nodded.

  Ryan then asked, “Why the hell are we so far behind the Chinese on cybersecurity? Is this more of the aftermath of Ed Kealty’s gutting of defense and intelligence?”

  General Bloom shook his head. “We can’t blame Ed Kealty for this, sir. The simple fact is that China has millions of very smart people, many of whom were trained here in the U.S. and then went home to essentially do the modern equivalent of taking up arms against us.”

  “Why don’t those smart people work for us?”

  “A key reason is, the average hacker we need on our side in order to even the playing field is a twenty-something born in Russia or China or India. He’s gone to the right schools, has the language and the math background.”

  Ryan understood the problem before Bloom said it. “But there is no way in hell the foreign kid can obtain a Top Secret, Sensitive Compartmented Information full-scope polygraph clearance.”

  Bloom said, “No way in hell, sir.

  “And another reason is that America’s strong suit has never been dealing with things that have not happened yet. Cyberwar has been a distant vague concept, a fantasy… until this morning.”

  Ryan said, “When the power goes out, the water turns to sludge, and when the fuel stops flowing… America is going to expect us to fix this.”

  Ryan continued. “We have been focusing on low-impact, high-probability events. China taking the South China Sea and Taiwan is seen as a high-impact, low-probability event. Cyberwar against America is seen as a high-impact, low-probability event. We have not had our eyes on these areas as we should have in the past few years. Now both of these things are happening at once.

  “General Bloom, what would be the quickest, best way we can help you right now?”

  The Air Force general thought it over for a second. He said, “A kinetic response to the command-and-control centers in China that are effecting
this cyberattack.”

  “A kinetic response?”

  “Yes, Mr. President.”

  “Combat their cyberwar with a shooting war?”

  General Bloom did not blink. “War is war, Mr. President. People will die from this here in America. Plane crashes, traffic accidents, little old ladies freezing to death in a home without electricity. You can, and I believe you should, look at what happened in Russellville, Arkansas, as a nuclear attack on the United States of America. Just because they did not use an ICBM and just because the warhead did not detonate this time, it doesn’t mean they did not try, they will not try again, and they won’t succeed the next time. The Chinese have changed the method of attack, but they did not change the type of ordnance.”

  Ryan thought for a moment. “Scott?”

  Secretary of State Adler responded, “Yes, Mr. President.”

  “Bloom is right, we are a hair’s breadth away from a full-on shooting war with the Chinese. I want you to help me come up with every last diplomatic card we can use to avoid this.”

  “Yes, sir.” Adler knew the stakes; there existed no greater use of diplomacy than preventing war. “We start with the United Nations. Without positive attribution of the Chinese in the cyberattack, I think we pull out all the stops in going after their encroachment into the SCS and their attacks on the ROC.”

  “Agreed. It’s not much, but it has to be done.”

  “Yes, sir. Then I go to Beijing, meet with the foreign minister, give him a direct message from you.”

  “All right.”

  “I can deliver your ‘stick’ with no problem, but I’d like to have a carrot to offer as well.”

  “Sure. I’m not wavering on Taiwan or open access to the SCS, but we can be flexible with some of our military movements in the region. Maybe we promise we won’t renew a base over there somewhere that they don’t like. I don’t want to do that, but I sure as shit don’t want this to blow up. We’ll work this out with Bob before you go.”

  Burgess did not look pleased, but he nodded at Adler.