“Silly me,” Marla replied. “I was under the assumption we already had a big problem.”
Carl looked unhappy and stirred his coffee for a moment. Then he leaned closer, and continued, “The problem is, one of the Alexandria Project guys is a Community Representative on the Advisory Board of the LoC, and he had enough access to be dangerous. He provided his ID and password to the mystery man they hired. Turns out Advisors have deeper access than he realized – and maybe deeper than George realized as well. That got the hacker off to an easy start, because now he could find the system’s weaknesses from the inside.”
“But that doesn’t explain how they broke into so many other agencies so easily. How did they pull that off?”
Carl paused again. He looked around and leaned forward still further, lowering his voice until Marla could barely hear him. “Look, Marla, I’ve already told you a lot more than I should. But I expect that it may be important for your dad to know this, so I’m going to share something with you that’s really secret. You’ve got to understand that this goes to no one, ever, other than Frank.”
Marla nodded, uncomfortable at being so close to Carl.
“The LoC isn’t just a sleepy department of a government agency. It’s also used as what they call a “testbed” – a place where the IT guys and security guys can roll out new technology. That way, they can test the hell out of it in a real-world setting before they deploy it across highly sensitive areas of the government, like the Pentagon and White House.
“The idea has always been that no one was likely to try too hard to hack the computers of the LoC, so it would be a safe place to work the bugs out of new systems without laying too much on the line. At the same time, it’s still a big, complex enterprise processing huge amounts of data. And it connects with Congress and other agencies, so its IT policies, architecture and interfaces have to be the same as those of every other agency in a lot of respects. So once the security wizards get things just right at the LoC, they figure they’re safe to install everywhere else.”
“But my father already knows that!”
“Wait – there’s more. Unfortunately, that’s exactly what the security guys were up to, right before this mess blew up. Everybody at the LoC – like your father – was supposed to think that they were competing to produce a new security upgrade. In fact, the one they had been using for the past six months had just been pushed out across all the agencies.”
“So you mean once the bad guys figured out how to crack the LoC they could crack the Pentagon?”
“Bingo. And Homeland Security and the White House and everything else besides. Because they’re all now running the same security protocols, over the same architecture, as the LoC.”
“But what about all the private companies and universities they broke into as well? They weren’t all using exactly the same security systems, were they?”
“Well, no, that’s right. But nobody goes out and invents a whole new way of creating security, and that was true for the LoC as well. Everyone uses pretty much the same concepts, building blocks and strategies, and then refines them from there in ways that they hope will keep them one step ahead of the hackers. So while some parts of the LoC’s upgraded security infrastructure were different from what was there before, they weren’t necessarily that different from what outside security experts are designing and selling to their customers.
“We figure the bad guys just used robots to hammer away at the millions of eligible targets out there, and then made use of the ones that they could get into the same way they were able to hack the LoC.”
“So we’re back to where we started?”
“Yes. That’s pretty much the size of it.”
Marla avoided his gaze, and looked instead at the darkened book store across the street.
“So how about it, Marla? Isn’t there anything else your father could tell us to help us out? We’ve hit a brick wall here.”
Marla didn’t like the position she was finding herself in at all. She already knew that her father had made another big discovery. He had also indicated that he didn’t want to share it yet, or maybe even at all, if he didn’t have to. But after the raid on the bookstore, it really did seem to her that they should be able to trust the CIA. Clearly, the agents couldn’t have learned anything that could tie the antiquarians to Frank. So there shouldn’t be anything left to fear from the CIA, right?
Marla made her decision, and excused herself from the table, leaving Carl with a puzzled look on his face.
Once inside the rest room, Marla pulled her cellphone out of her purse, and pushed a speed dial button. She wrote down the numbers that displayed on a piece of paper. Then she hit a second button, and copied those numbers below the first. Finally, she subtracted the second set from the first, and then dialed the resulting number. She immediately pushed the exit button before the call could ring at the other end. Then she threw away the paper with the number on it, and returned to the table.
Without saying a word to Carl, Marla highlighted the number she had just entered, and then hit the “send” button.
* * *
Frank was sleeping like a baby, more warm and secure than he had felt since he was a child. But there was something bothering him; an almost familiar sound that he couldn’t quite place. Why wouldn’t it go away?
Then his eyes snapped open like a Jack-in-the-Box: it was the sound of the satellite phone he had bought in case of emergencies! And the only person who had the number was Marla! He jumped out of bed and began throwing dirty laundry in the air as he searched for the phone.
Finally, he found it. “Marla! Hi! What’s wrong?”
Marla caught her breath at the sound of her father’s voice; she should have realized he’d assume the worst when he heard his emergency phone ring.
“Nothing Dad – nothing! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to alarm you. I just needed to tell you what we’ve found out and ask for your help.”
“Thank God you’re okay! Go ahead.” Frank slumped into a chair, shaking from head to foot.
“We caught the guys at the location you sent us to – but they turned out to be just a bunch of antique book dealers. Yeah – that’s right – book dealers! Tweed jackets and the whole bit. It turns out they’re only behind the LoC attacks and none of the other incidents. They hired somebody else to do the hacking, and they don’t know who he is; they only communicated by email. And it looks like he isn’t using their computers, so we’re stuck and we need your help.”
Marla had a sudden thought. “Was this the only location you ever found? Could there have been another one you located somewhere along the way?”
Frank was still feeling weak and rattled. Of course there had been a second intruder – he’d known that now for a long time. And yes, he’d found a second location through the iBall crowd sourcing gambit. But could he afford to tell anyone where the second location was until he could check it out for himself? Reaching a decision, he used a nickname for his apartment that Marla remembered from her childhood.
Carl watched as Marla’s eyebrows shot up. “Dad, that’s impossible! How could that be? Yes, of course I believe you – we’ll check it out. And yes, we can get off the phone now.”
Carl looked at her anxiously. “Well? Where is it? What’s so strange about where it is?”
* * *
Across town, an FBI agent took off his earphones with a smile. He punched a few buttons on the console in front of him and waited for the readout. Perfect – he’d been able to get an exact fix. He put his headset on again and called his supervisor.
“All good things come to those that wait, Boss. We’ve got Adversego.”
* * *
25
The Bacon and Eggs will get you Every Time
CIA director John Foster Baldwin pressed a button on his intercom.
“Yes, Gwen?”
“Mr. McInnerney for you, sir.”
The Director gave an inward groan, and then told his assistant to put th
e call through. What the hell could he want? Baldwin hadn’t spoken to FBI Director Francis X. McInnerney since the two of them had been mauled by Congressman Steele weeks ago. And why would he want to? McInnerney had done everything he could to deflect Steele’s wrath towards the CIA. And with some success, too. Whatever McInnerney might be calling for, Baldwin doubted he’d like it.
“Hi, Francis. To what do I owe the rare honor of a personal call?”
Baldwin heard McInnerney chuckle. “Don’t worry, John, no honor intended. Just following the rules by promptly informing a partner in Homeland Security about an important development.”
“How diligent of you to do so.” Well, now he knew the category in which this would not be a welcome call. McInnerney was calling to gloat over an FBI breakthrough in some matter of joint responsibility.
“Yes indeed, I wanted you to be the first to know that we’ve cracked the Alexandria Project wide open.”
Damn, Baldwin thought. If that was true, the CIA would have to share the glory of its own recent discovery with the FBI. If only Marchand had been able to move in a few days sooner.
“Congratulations,” Baldwin said in as non-congratulatory a tone as possible. “What is it that you’ve come across?”
“We’ve found the mole that was working in the Library of Congress, and we expect to have him in custody by the end of the day.”
“Is that so? And how have you tied him to the exploits?”
“Glad you asked, because that’s the most interesting part. Now that all the Homeland Security agencies use the same database, we were able to read the write-ups your boys put together about this guy. And apparently we found more of interest in them than your own folks were able to.”
“Really.”
“Yes, really. It was all there for your analysts to see. This guy Adversego has the motive, the profile, the opportunity and the skills to pull the whole thing off. And then he drops off the face of the earth, after giving your boys the slip using the kind of tactics you’d find in a Grade B movie.”
Baldwin had no idea what the FBI Director was talking about, but he didn’t like what he was hearing. All he knew – or thought he knew, at this point – was that George Marchand’s team had captured those responsible for at least the Library of Congress attacks. What could it be that McInnerney’s boys had discovered?
But the FBI Director had more good news to share.
“The only hard part to figure out is why your guy Marchand hushed the whole thing up. Now isn’t that an interesting question?”
“Actually, Fran, I’m sure that it’s not nearly as interesting a question as you may think….”
But McInnerney cut him off.
“Save it for Congressman Steele, John. Right now I’ve got a few other calls to make. And the first one will be to him.” The line went dead.
Baldwin pushed back from his desk and tried to digest the implications of what he had just heard. What if the FBI was about to arrest someone the CIA knew about and could have hauled in themselves?
Baldwin pulled Marchand’s full field report out of a file, and this time read more than the Executive Summary. According to Marchand, the CIA had been led to the Alexandria Project by someone named Frank Adversego, an employee of the Library of Congress who had initially been led to believe that he was personally under suspicion, and had skipped town as a result. Moreover the CIA’s information was obtained second hand through his daughter, and Adversego’s current location was still unknown.
Marchand also reported that the members of the Project were not capable of launching the attacks themselves. No progress had yet been made in determining who had assisted them, but Marchand assigned a high probability to the likelihood that the same parties were behind the scores of copycat attacks that were still continuing.
Baldwin set the report aside and thought hard. What would he be thinking if he was McInnerney and had read the same information?
That line of reasoning led him quickly to an unsettling thought. From what he could tell from Marchand’s report, this guy Adversego had fingered the booksellers without explaining how he knew who they were. Perhaps Adversego really was the hacker behind the operation. Maybe he had turned in the booksellers to deflect the CIA’s attention from himself?
Yes, Baldwin concluded, that’s exactly what McInnerney would think. Worse, that’s what he would report to Congressman Steele, whether the facts supported that conclusion or not. Worst of all, if the FBI could catch Adversego and impound his computer equipment, how would the CIA be able to refute McInnerney’s claims?
The answer, he realized with concern, was that it couldn’t. The FBI would not only claim credit for breaking the case, but it would also say the CIA was either incompetent or protecting the culprit. No, that wasn’t quite fair to McInnerney, Baldwin realized. The FBI Director would say that the CIA was incompetent and protecting the culprit.
Baldwin was beginning to feel extremely uneasy. For all he knew, Adversego really was guilty. Perhaps Marchand’s trust in him was misplaced, and the CIA was about to be hung out to dry.
Baldwin reached a decision. He couldn’t let the FBI capture Frank Adversego. And George Marchand had to be kept out of the loop, or he might tip Adversego off.
He glanced at the clock on his desk. This would require quick and decisive action.
* * *
Marla unlocked the door to Frank’s apartment, and motioned Carl and George in ahead of her.
“Let’s sit in the kitchen. It’s the only semi-habitable part of my father’s apartment.”
George looked around the room and decided not to comment on Marla’s definition of habitability. “So your father says the real hacker is located somewhere in this building, huh?”
“Yes, but that’s as close as he can get to telling where they are. We’ll have to take it from here.”
“How about it George,” Carl asked. “What’s our next step?”
George shook his head from side to side slowly. “That’s not going to be easy. This building has four floors, and there are twenty-four mailboxes in the lobby downstairs. I can’t set up monitors in one location and scan every apartment. And whoever we’re looking for isn’t going to have a rack full of servers in their living room – all the serious equipment will be far away. So it’s not like we can scan for unusual electromagnetic activity, or listen for extra air conditioners chilling a data room. We’ll have to actually intercept data that we can identify as suspicious.”
“So what does that mean? That we’ve got to get a court order and tap every apartment in the whole damn building?”
“Actually, it could be worse than that. For all we know, whoever we’re looking for may be across the street. Maybe they’re just tapping into someone’s unprotected WiFi router over here.”
“So what do we do?”
George began to unpack the metal suitcase he had carried in. “For starters, we’ll just hope to get lucky. I’ve brought a TEMPEST scanner kit along with me, and maybe it will turn out our target is less careful than he or she should be. Even so, from this location I’m only going to be able to monitor adjacent apartments on this floor and the one’s immediately above and below it.”
“‘TEMPEST’? What does that mean?” Marla asked.
“Well, Marla, the funny thing is that nobody knows what the acronym stands for; that’s apparently classified. And actually, you don’t hear too much about this kind of technology anymore – not like you used to, back in the Cold War days of spooks and espionage. With everything running over the Internet now, TEMPEST is pretty passé. Now we just try and intercept information in the cloud, or plant a keystroke logger on the target’s own computer.”
Marla sniffed. “Thanks. That was very informative. But completely unenlightening.”
“Sorry, Marla. Basically, TEMPEST is a term that applies to techniques that let you pick up data that equipment such as computers and printers are handling without having to directly intercept it at all. Sometimes we might
listen for mechanical noises that we can match to the actions of individual computer keys, and in other situations we’d try and pick up the electromagnetic emanations that, say, a computer monitor might give off while someone was using it. That’s what I’m going to try to do here.”
“Of course, that assumes that the person of interest isn’t using shielding, or generating the electromagnetic or acoustic equivalent of ‘white noise’ to obliterate or neutralize what I’ll be looking for. But what the hell, we’ve got to start somewhere.”
Marla thought for a moment. “So because you’re not actually tapping a phone line we don’t need a warrant?”
Instead of answering, George began humming loudly to himself.
Marla took the hint, and let it go at that.
Carl was only half listening to them as he wandered around the kitchen, looking at the clutter that had been Frank’s everyday life. He noticed something familiar on the counter and picked it up.
“So what happened to Devil Dog?” he asked Marla, holding up a leather collar for her to see.
Marla snorted. “Lily? My father got Mrs. Foomjoy across the hall to take care of her before he left. And don’t be silly. Lily’s completely harmless.”
“So you say,” Carl said as he looked at the collar. A rabies shot tag dangled from a split ring, and behind that, a thick silvery disk. Lily’s name was engraved on it, along with Frank’s name. What a geek, Carl thought. Instead of a phone number, the tag bore Frank’s email address. Idly, Carl rubbed the tag between his fingers, and thought he felt the back surface dimple at his touch. He turned the tag over and pressed the back again. Yes, it flexed slightly – he wasn’t holding a solid metal tag at all. He realized that it was also thicker than he would have expected.
“Say, George, do you have a really, really fine screwdriver in your bag of tricks?”
“Of course.” He handed one over that was the size found in an eyeglass repair kit.
Carl sat down at the kitchen table and placed the tag on edge. Marla got up and stood behind him to see what he was doing.
The Alexandria Project: A Tale of Treachery and Technology (Frank Adversego Thrillers Book 1) Page 22