Oracle's Hunt

by A. Claire Everward

  Donovan didn’t give a damn about the USOMP’s mistakes. He needed one from the bad guys. “So they piggybacked on the warning repair signal. Can we use this to trace them?”

  Reese shook his head. “Dead end by now. Traced it back to a loop. In and out without anyone knowing. I wouldn’t expect any different from whoever pulled this one on me.”

  The man’s self-pity was wearing on Donovan. “If they were in the mainframe all this time, why use it just to break in? Why not simply hack into the data center?”

  “Impossible. You see, the reason the data centers were designed as they were was to allow absolute data security and exclusive access by its owners. The alliance wanted something both tangible and that cannot be hacked—why do you think we didn’t just use clouds? The idea was to create an impenetrable disaster-day thing, and since now we can cram huge amounts of data into relatively small maintenance-efficient structures in terms of fringe services—cooling and power and whatnot, you get it—the data centers idea was viable. And they’re secure . . . I mean, were supposed to be . . .”

  He must have seen the growing impatience on Donovan’s face, because he stopped his flow of words and sighed, then got back to the point. “The mainframe isn’t connected to the actual data, and neither are any of the security system’s components. That’s the way it’s done in all these data centers. The only way the data itself can be accessed is either by connecting to the data storage unit itself, at the data center, and only the unit owners can do that—well, in theory at least—or remotely, via an undisclosed designated system, with a different system and encryption for each unit owner. And again, only the data owners can do that and have the access system and the encryption. So that, as in our case, to get into the IDSD unit in the data center these guys would have had to physically be at IDSD in order to access the designated system used to get into the data remotely, or to break into the data center and connect to the unit directly, which they did.”

  “And to do that,” Donovan said, “all they had to do was halt the monitoring functions from inside the mainframe and then cut the security signal, virtually isolating the data center, quickly and theoretically without anyone being able to identify them.”

  “And while they were in our mainframe, they could also get all the information they needed about the data center’s structure and peripheral security.” Reese was looking more dejected by the minute.

  Donovan nodded. Reese had already taken him through the data center’s blueprints, the same ones the new security system had relied on, and that could of course be found in the monitoring station’s mainframe, which was how the perpetrators got them.

  That, apparently, had been the easy part. Scanning for, identifying and locking on the security system’s signal might have taken a long time, Reese told him, depending on when whoever did this began staking out the data center. They didn’t have to know beforehand that changes were being made to the security system—all they had to do was watch remotely and try to identify which of certain types of signals in the area was linked to the data center, and the signal disruptions happened to have given them the opportunity they needed to do that more easily than it would otherwise have been. Had the system not been adjusted, as Reese had explained, the signal would have remained smoothly undetectable, and it would have been longer before they managed to get in, if at all. There was nothing simple about the underlying technology of the security systems, both the new one and the previous one.

  But as chance would have it, the security system was interfered with, the disruptions that allowed the security signal to be targeted did occur, and once the perpetrators were in, all they had to do was collect all they needed about the data center’s security measures both from the very system built to protect it and from inside the USOMP’s mainframe. And then, when the time came for their attack, all they had to do was disable the security system to avoid detection, which also meant disabling all locking mechanisms controlled by it, walk into the data center, as they had, take the data, and leave. It seemed that the bad guys had had luck on their side. Either that, or they were patient and had waited for the opportunity for a very long time. And that worried Donovan, since, more than anything, it attested to how serious these people were.

  And then there was the manned security. The fully automated system didn’t need people, it ran itself. The guards stationed at the data center were only there as an added measure, and for deterrence, if anyone managed to get near it. Of course, in theory, no one could get anywhere within six miles of the data center without additional security teams being immediately alerted. The same alert that never went off until the building began burning, thanks to the perpetrators who had disabled all security protocols from inside the USOMP’s mainframe. And by the time someone noticed that the security system wasn’t working and that the data center had been breached, the perpetrators had been in and out, taking what they wanted and killing the on-site guards on the way—this couldn’t have been difficult, since these guards knew they were guarding an advanced-technology, high-security building no one was supposed to know the exact location of, let alone get within miles of. Despite their training, they seemed to have been unprepared for the attack.

  Donovan’s eyes narrowed. Senseless deaths. He hated senseless deaths.

  Chapter Six

  Lara turned her multitouch and holoplatform combination desk off. She was sitting in her inner office, the door closed. And while she could see to the outside of where she was sitting, either outside of the window or outside to the floor her office was on, no one could see in. Anyone outside could only see tinted glass, which gave her complete privacy to view confidential information. And everything that came through this office was confidential. In fact, quite a lot of it required the highest possible clearance.

  A moment earlier the views on her desk showed the faces of the special forces soldiers who would be going on the Somalia mission. They were already en route there, and would remain off-shore to the east until it was time to go in, when conditions allowed it. She leaned her elbows on the surface of the desk that was now dark and silent, as were all the wall screens around her, and rested her chin on tented fingers in contemplation. She didn’t only have in her mind the faces of those who would, sometime in the coming days, be risking their lives on this mission. She also had every piece of information ever written in each of their files, every word they had ever uttered and every smile or frown that had ever crossed their faces in a debriefing or profiling session, etched in her memory for use, if it came to that. If Oracle needed it. The human factor tended to be critical in these missions, and she had to be prepared for it.

  But that wasn’t all she had. This was a rescue mission. A few weeks earlier, the African Independent Territory, which had succeeded in cutting itself off from the rest of the continent that was still in an unending turmoil, and had been working with the alliance, had launched an unsanctioned intelligence mission in Somalia. It wasn’t that they were strictly required to inform the alliance, since they weren’t formally a part of it. But because they chose not to inform it, they couldn’t benefit from its intelligence capabilities and its help—they never asked, and so no one knew to offer. As it turned out, while the mission had a useful goal, its implementation had been bad. All five men disappeared.

  And so those five men, she’d also viewed their files. Knew everything about them. Their lives. Their families. Their kids. The women who loved them. For her, they were as much a part of the mission as their would-be rescuers were.

  This time, for the rescue mission, the African Independent Territory had brought the alliance into the loop. None of the allies would play an active role in the mission—the special forces unit was also the African Independent Territory’s—but they were asked to watch from afar and to assist in guidance and extrication if anything went wrong. And while the African Independent Territory didn’t know about Oracle, the allies had asked IDSD that Oracle will be aware of what was going on, in case its help was
needed. Of course, to protect it and hide its existence, Oracle would, if it came to that, provide support not directly to those in the field but to a Joint European Command field liaison who would be passing on its guidance. Oracle never spoke directly to anyone outside the alliance, and even within the alliance, it only spoke to carefully selected designations.

  Lara rubbed her eyes. She knew everything that was currently available to know. About the initial mission, about the pending one. About the current situation in Somalia. And when the time came, if it did—no, it would, she was certain of that, knowing what she did—she would receive last minute information about allied forces deployed in the region. She was used to that, to the picture changing fast, faster as a mission approached, was initiated, then progressed until it ultimately reached its crisis point, which was when things went wrong. She would be ready when the time came. So would Oracle. It would have no helmet cams to watch this time, but satellites and high-altitude surveillance drones, these eyes in the sky, they would be Oracle’s to choose, call on in this one. Close air support and a stealth transport, too. They would be at its disposal without delay, no questions asked, if it chose to deploy them. Oracle would be ready to use any means it needed, take any action it needed. As always. As in each and every one of the missions it had been involved in, and in every one of the missions that had a chance of crossing its path in the coming days and weeks, and some of these were already a certainty.

  As ready as could be, that is. After all, the whole point was that these missions had too high an uncertainty level. If—when—things went wrong, they tended to go irreparably wrong, and then Oracle was the last chance of bringing those out there back home alive. But Lara never thought about it before a mission.

  After the mission, that was another story.

  Her phone emitted a cheery jingle, snapping her out of her thoughts. Donna. They hadn’t had a chance to meet since Lara returned from Brussels, except for Donna coming over to the house to show her around. Her initial thought was not to answer, just send Donna a message saying she would call her later, but then she reconsidered. Why not talk to her, maybe even meet her? Mission chased mission lately, and then there was the data center thing. A break might be . . .

  “I can hear you thinking, you know.”

  Lara hadn’t even realized she had touched the phone, prompting the call to be taken.

  “I’m on my way to your place,” Donna notified her cheerfully.

  “I’m not at my place. I’m at work.”

  “So? We’re going out. Patty is staying with baby Greg, and you and I are going to that new place on New Presidents’ Quarter.”

  “A club,” Lara grumbled.

  “A nice club, from what I hear. Classy. Music, good food, bit of fun. Come on, you won’t even have to change. Okay, you’ll have to change. It’s a club, for Christ’s sake.”

  Lara laughed despite herself. She didn’t have to argue with Donna, Donna did that so well on her own. They’d known each other since they were kids and had been best friends from day one. Donna knew how to get through to her. Especially when she felt that her friend was troubled or tired. That was probably why she chose the club, even though Lara wasn’t the clubbing type. Nothing like a complete change of scenery. Some noise, some fun, and a way to get Lara out of the house for an evening.

  She gave in. It wasn’t as if she was likely to sleep anyway, certainly not well. Sleep didn’t come easily around missions, and was rarely peaceful when it did. Spending time with Donna was a good alternative, even if it did involve going out to a place full of more people and probably a whole lot more noise than she would be comfortable with.

  It took her just a few minutes to leave her office, and by the time her car was speeding to her new home she was up to enjoying a night out with her best friend.

  Donovan rounded the last expanse of trees, and headed toward the familiar path that stretched before him. It would bring him to the street, and to his house. This was one of the main reasons he had chosen this house in the first place, some years earlier. He had still lived at that small apartment the military had made available to him back then, housing for singles, well maintained, comfortable enough, no hassle. He could afford more, a whole lot more, but he simply didn’t care. He wasn’t there much, so it didn’t matter to him. But then things changed, his professional life took a different direction, and he was home more. It was time for something else.

  He happened to come by here a couple of times and had noticed this house, right next to the park. It looked empty, although the neighborhood management maintained the yard around it, not allowing it to run down. He liked that, too. He’d driven through the quiet neighborhood, saw residents who didn’t look at him with suspicion when he drove by but nodded, said hello, with the confidence of people who had roots there, who trusted this place, their life in it. Eventually he had asked about the house, not really intending anything, and was told the owners had passed, that their son had already bought a place of his own and was considering what to do with this, the house he grew up in. And so Donovan offered to buy it. The man had hesitated to sell to the single young man who turned up out of nowhere, but hearing what Donovan did for a living he understood. Military presence was prominent around there, and these people didn’t always get a chance to start a family, settle down, lead the quiet life most others did. He came to like Donovan and appreciated his continued interest in the house. Thought that maybe the family would follow the home. Life did have a way of taking its course, he’d said.

  And so Donovan became the house’s new owner, but even after he did, and after the place was renovated, ready for him, it was almost a year before he moved in. Throughout that time, if he saw a piece of furniture he liked, an item he fancied, he would buy it. Take it to the house, find a place that suited it. This was also the case if he bought a book. A shirt. New running shoes. He would come here at times, instead of to his apartment, if he wanted some place more solitary, peaceful. Away from the connection to his work. Then he started running only here, in the park beyond this house. Gradually, he was here more than in his apartment. And when the move came, it was no longer a major leap. He’d already made this place his own.

  He approached the house. He felt better now, more relaxed, always did after a long run. After his visit to the USOMP he’d come straight home, made it an early day. Relatively early, that is. He needed to clear his mind, and running helped. USFID had an expansive training facility complete with holo-interlaced gyms, weapons training ranges, tactical fitness training venues and multi-purpose simulation halls, but although he used these pretty much on a daily basis, running was the one thing he still did outdoors. It felt more real to him, more satisfying, running with the ground under his feet, dry in the summer or heavy with water or snow in the winter, the sun—or the gray, darkening skies, as was the case that day—peeking through leafy trees, the clean air rushing toward him.

  He skirted the house, and passed between his black official USFID-issued car in the driveway and the trees that lined his property, separating it to an extent from the house next door. He continued beyond his garage, on the recently mowed lawn, and was about to turn right toward the back door when he heard the cheerful call.

  “Hey, handsome!”

  He swerved toward the voice, and a smile crossed his face. He liked Donna. Over the years he’d never seen her as anything but a kind woman, who judged no one and seemed to tolerate everyone. Some people took life’s lessons at face value and became better for it, and Donna was a good example.

  “You look colorful,” he said, which was an understatement.

  “Going clubbing and dragging your new neighbor with me kicking and screaming. Once she gets here, that is.” Donna gave an exaggerated sigh, then shot him a sly look. “So, I hear you met her. Lara. I can’t believe you two work together.” Her grin was bright, infectious.

  “We don’t.” His tone unwittingly took an edge that made her eyes widen with interest. He snuck a look around
her, at the house next door.

  “Yes, she seems to have some objection to you, too,” Donna mused. In fact, it was a while since she’d seen in her friend such a powerful objection to anyone. But then, she was finding the irritation that had just now flared in this man’s eyes new, too. “I meant, those places you two work in are working together on something, aren’t they?”

  “You know what she does?” Donovan turned his eyes back to her.

  “We never really go there.” Donna shrugged. “Someone’s got to take that girl outside work, and that’s me. So what did you do to her? Or better yet, what did she do to you?” She changed the subject without skipping a breath.

  He was about to answer when Lara came outside, smiling. “There you are, Don,” she said, and then saw the man standing beside her friend and faltered. She tried hard not to notice how he looked in that USFID T-shirt, and focused on mirroring the ice that enhanced the gray in his eyes at the sight of her.

  Donna looked at the two of them alternately, her interest piquing. “So, neighbors.” She tried. “Isn’t that nice?”

  “Spied on any investigations lately?” It came out before Donovan could stop it.

  Recovering fast, Lara raised her eyebrows. “No, not really. Oh, except yours, of course. I hear you’re making progress. Got the signal question figured out, have you?” Even as she made the hit, her eyes flickered to Donna, subtly warning Donovan that their mutual friend had no concrete knowledge about the investigation.

  He understood and switched gears. “I’m beginning to think it might be a good idea to haul you in. See what you really know that you’re hiding.”

  “Mmm. Yes, interesting idea indeed. Except you can’t touch me. But then you already know that, don’t you?” She was baiting, she knew, despite knowing he wouldn’t hesitate to go through walls to get to her if he thought this would help with his investigation, and that the way things were going between them, he just might do so to spite her. Part of her warned, another marveled at the simple fact that she couldn’t stop herself.