Enemy Within

by William David

  “Ah! Is that why I am seeing you, you are on the way to Pill? Is there still a ferry running across the river at Pill? I can remember using it with Mum and Dad when we were kids.”

  “Yes, I remember, not sure if it's still there.”

  The silence had been loud and as I’d looked at him he hesitated.

  “Look Martin, I am not sure I should really have come here. I have a problem and need some help but hesitate to get you in to trouble as well.”

  “Pleased to help. How can you get me in to trouble? Not broken the law have you? A criminal on the run,” I‘d said jokingly.

  “Not exactly,” he’d responded; at which I’d stopped joking and sat still and upright looking at him. Now I looked more closely he looked tired and tense.

  “You haven't been hacking again, have you? You promised after the last time that you would stay away from that in future.”

  “About six months ago I got involved with a group of people on line and a few of us locals met at the pub, the Bull if you remember it?”

  “Yes I do.”

  “Well, we all got on well, and some of them knew some of the other guys on line in the group personally and all seemed to have similar outlooks on life. We all despise the current hypocrisy of politicians and to cut a long story short we formed a small group calling ourselves The Truth Brigade. The informal aim of the group was to highlight evidence of political lies and hypocrisy, usually in the form of documents and then release it to press or news blogs. Relatively harmless really, we had no real agenda and it was all rather ad hoc. We conferenced on line and those of us who were locals began to meet regularly at the pub. We outed some items to the press but nothing too serious.”

  “I assume you hacked private computer systems to get these documents? Strictly illegal and if caught you could get a prison sentence.” I’d said somewhat pretentiously as big brothers tend to do.

  “I know, but as I said none of it was too serious,........... But it became so.”

  “One of the group found a strange site whose origin was unclear. Several of the group had worked on it periodically over a few weeks. Don't ask me why, but for some reason it was intriguing. It was innocent looking on the surface but there was just something about it that got us to keep going back to it. Then finally I got past a password barrier and the site had opened up in to a mass of data files. After a while a clear warning that I was in a secure US government site had come up on screen but I'm afraid I ignored it and proceeded to explore the site. The site had not seemed of much interest, lists of military personnel and histories etc. with pages of meaningless numbers and dates and eventually, when I was about to pack up, I stumbled on a file of videos.”

  “The file was called Raven and there were what looked like transcripts accompanied by video records of prisoner interrogations. Some were quite innocuous but a few were showing the most extreme physical torture techniques. There had been little or no extra security on these files despite the nature of the contents, almost as if the files had been located there in error. I was downloading one of the files, for reasons I will explain in a minute, when up came a warning that I had been detected and a message flashed across the screen that what I had done was a breach of the law and of national security and that it would be in my best interests to surrender to police now before they arrest me. It was obviously an automated response but it unnerved me and I disconnected immediately. In the meantime the file down load had completed.

  “I have the file here with me on disc. It is a record of several sessions, of one prisoner, presumably over a number of days. Can I play it to you?”

  “Do I really want or need to see this?” I’d said looking straight at him.

  “Well, that is why I hesitated to talk to you, but I had no one else to discuss it with outside the group. They are great guys but I am not sure I would trust them with involvement in this; I can only discuss it with someone I trust. I admit that it might not be a good idea for you to see it but unless you do you will not know what I am talking about.”

  “It is not the torture that is the cause of the problem. That is abhorrent and repulsive. The problem is that I think I recognise one of the officers conducting the interrogations, and if I am right it could be political dynamite. Are you going to look at it?”

  I’d hesitated, “OK,” I’d nodded, and he slotted the disc in to my DVD player and pressed play.

  The video showed a room with dirty white plaster walls in the centre of which sat a man apparently strapped in to a chair and illuminated by bright lights. Two men were brandishing what looked like flexible baseball bats, and in between blows they yelled unintelligible questions at him. Periodically they referred to someone off camera, for directions. When the prisoner seemed to go unconscious he was doused in a bucket of water and the beatings paused. Then it started again and amidst the screams and shouted questions, the camera suddenly zoomed out revealing a panel of three men sitting in a row at a table on one side; they were obviously the ones directing events. The camera quickly zoomed back in on the prisoner but not before one had a reasonably clear shot of the three men

  “I don't want to look at much more of this,” I’d said, “what am I looking for?”

  Adrian rewound to the shot of the three men and froze the image. “Look at the three men sitting to one side, in particular the one on the right, is he not familiar?”

  I’d looked at the frozen image and tried within the limitations of my player to move it on frame by frame until I had a good image of the man in question. I stopped and stared.

  I’d looked at Adrian. “You're not really suggesting that is.........it's impossible it couldn't be,” I’d said.

  “This video was shot some time ago, maybe as much as 8 years ago, possibly in the Middle East or Central Europe perhaps. The man has changed and the photography is also not good, which together with the shadows makes recognition more difficult. “

  I’d stared again at the image.

  “I have enhanced a still like that and can show you.” With that he’d taken out a laptop from his bag that was on the floor beside him and fired it up. “We are not used to seeing him in uniform and he has aged but I don't think there is much doubt.”

  There was no doubt; he was looking at a picture of the Vice President of the United States. “What on earth would he be doing there?” I’d said.

  “Well he was a career CIA man and eventually deputy director of the CIA before he became the presidential running mate and subsequently Vice President. He was in one of the hot seats after 9/11, so he would have been close to it anyway. This seems to show that he directed it.”

  “Who else has seen this?” I’d said. “This would be dynamite politically if this became public knowledge.”

  “No one, but they, whoever they are, will be tracing me. It will not be simple for them to do so, but if this is the CIA they have some of the best people possible so it will only be a matter of time.”

  “God, Adrian, do you never learn? The shit could really hit the fan with this! They will make the hacking a major offence to which a long prison sentence is attached. When did you do this?”

  “Last night, I haven't slept since. I keep going over and over it in my mind, trying to think what to do next.”

  “How long do you think it will take for them to trace you?”

  “If they are lucky, 2 or 3 days, but I have been totally off air since so it will take them some time.”

  “I need a drink, do you want a Scotch?” I’d said getting up and retrieving a bottle from the cupboard in the kitchen.

  “No thanks.”

  “I am not sure what you should do. It seems to me that if you admit it and hand yourself in you will inevitably be extradited to the US, and from what I have seen in the news they are getting incredibly tough on crimes like this.”

  “It's not just my crime,” Adrian had said. “Don't get me wrong, I know what this means and what a fix I could be in, but also people need to know that this is happe
ning!”

  “I agree in ideal circumstances people should know but this could be the rest of your life you are talking about ruining.”

  “You don't need to remind me.”

  “You idiot! What gets in to you?” I’d said pacing the lounge floor and my voice getting louder as I spoke. “You have a perfectly good career developing and then you go and do something like this!”

  “No need to shout. I think I had better leave you to it,” he’d said getting up and grabbing his jacket.

  “No”, I’d said grabbing him by the arm. “I think we should sleep on it, and discuss it again in the morning, you know where the spare bed is.” With that I patted him on the shoulder and went off to bed.

  The fool, how on earth do we get him out of this? I’d also had this nagging thought that perhaps prosecution was not the only thing that Adrian had to fear; people in that position would not want the video to become public and maybe were in a position to take extreme measures to stop it happening!

  The next morning, after some discussion over breakfast, we’d agreed Adrian would go back to his digs and get his main computer and any other evidence of the transgression that he might have and bring it back with him. He would then come and stay with me for a few days while we thought it through. I’d gone off to work.

  CHAPTER 10

  (Langley, Virginia)

  He was met at the door by a colonel in full uniform who greeted him with a salute and, “can't you stay away?”

  “Take my word for it Bob, I would not be here if I didn't have to be, where's the meeting?”

  “The colonel turned and said, we hold the Raven meetings in a secure room, follow me please.”

  “I don't want my attendance at this meeting officially recorded, is that understood?”

  “No problem. There will only be two others present.”

  After following a number of winding corridors they turned in to a brightly lit but windowless room where two uniformed men awaited.

  'Let's get started, why don't you bring us up to speed Tom,” said the Colonel turning to one of the two men.

  “Well, as you know we have identified the source of the site intrusion and the nature of the download so the question is what we do about it. It is clearly a breech of the law and we are confident it would carry a conviction for the individual concerned, the difficulty being that the individual is a UK citizen. Do we go ahead and seek extradition?”

  “We can't risk going through the normal procedures,” he said. “What about rendition and then trial here?”

  “Rendition!” exclaimed the colonel. “Are you sure we want to do that. We have never done that before against a UK citizen in the UK, if it got out it would be risky.”

  “Yes, I know, but I think it is the only route. Remember none of this would be necessary if your people hadn’t allowed that Raven file to be on a low security site to be hacked by any Tom, Dick, or Harry!”

  “I can’t explain how that happened sir, but are you sure we should take such extreme action?”

  “There is no viable alternative.”

  “OK, but I am going to have to ask for that order in writing.”

  His displeasure showed and he frowned heavily, “Alright, I will get that to you.”

  As they walked back out to his car the Colonel said, “this would not have such high priority and we would not be doing it this way if it were not for your personal considerations.”

  “Bob, are you refusing to do it?”

  “No, but I do want that written order.”

  “You'll get your written order,” he rasped and stalked off to his waiting car.

  CHAPTER 11(West Country England)

  I ordered yet another coffee and continued to go through, in my mind the sequence of events that had got me in to this…

  Having gone in to the office the day following Adrian’s arrival I’d learnt that Allied Grampian had called again and persuaded Alec that their client really was serious and that we should at least meet and see what they were offering. The client was apparently in Bristol that day and when they had suggested lunch Alec had reluctantly agreed.

  Lunch had been at a restaurant on the wharf and when Alec and I arrived we’d been shown to a booth where three other men were already seated. They all rose as we arrived, one was Stewart Logan from Allied Grampian, a tall, greying Scots banker, probably in his fifties. I had done some brief research on him and he seemed to have a reputation as a reliable middle of the road investment banker.

  Logan had introduced the other two as a Mr Octavian Plavsic and his colleague Mr Joseph Narai from an obscure sounding company called Mendip Finance. Plavsic, obviously the boss, was in his early to mid forties; dressed expensively in a dark suit, grey silk shirt and tie, and shiny black moccasin shoes. If he had not had a soft east European accent he might almost have come out of a Mafia movie! His colleague had the same accent but was in a more conventional grey city suit, late twenties, and carried the briefcase and papers. We all shook hands and sat down.

  Over lunch the conversation had been routine including the usual England World Cup recriminations. Plavsic commented that England seemed to have lost the will to win in soccer as well as many other areas. I am not a fan of heavy Italian food at lunchtime and after struggling through pasta with salad I’d been glad to see Logan start to get down to business.

  He’d briefly described the services offered by his bank and said that Mendip Finance were long standing clients of the bank. Narai, prompted by Plavsic, and frequently interrupted by him, had then gone on to talk about Mendip Finance. In short it turned out that they were an investment and trading company based in London and Zurich. He claimed Mendip was involved in commodity trading in Africa and Asia and had equity investments in a number of corporations in the UK, Germany and USA.

  I have little time for all of this type of padding and had interrupted. “OK, so why are you interested in us, I don't sense much synergy?' I sensed Alec sighing quietly at my impatience and lack of finesse.

  “Well,” Plavsic had said, “you might be surprised at the range of businesses we have invested in. We are interested in making money and we believe that when you launch ForceNet this company will make real money.'' Alec had glanced at me. ForceNet was not a published name and no public announcements had been made about the product.

  Logan saw my glance and said, “It's widely rumoured in the market that you have a major new product, that is why your brokers are able to wind up the prospective IPO price.”

  “Let's stop beating the bush” said Plavsic, “is that the right expression?”

  “Beating about the bush,” I’d corrected with a tired smile.

  “Thank you,” he’d said returning the smile, and then turning to Alec, “We would like to buy your company and are prepared to pay a very good price. It would be a full cash purchase. Nearly as good as you might get from a successful IPO but with much greater certainty, none of the risks of an IPO, and far fewer restrictions on the current shareholders.”

  “We all know the complications of a public offering,” Stewart Logan had added, “there is a lot to be said for not going down that road.” He’d then looked at Plavsic, who’d continued.

  “Of course we would still want you two involved in the Company and there could be an opportunity for you to retain equity so as to participate in the future benefits of the new products if you wished.”

  Alec had looked at me sideways, and then said to Plavsic. “We can look at any offer although you need to understand that we are a long way down the road to preparing for a float so I am not sure how interested we would be at changing course at this late stage. To get the attention of our board you would need to move quickly”.

  Plavsic nodded at Logan who’d said, “We could get a draft term sheet to you by tomorrow afternoon”.

  We’d been stunned that they were ready to move so rapidly but Alec recovered quickly and said, “to make any offer meaningful Allied Grampian would also need to give us some
form of Letter of Comfort that Mendip Finance have the resources to be able to do a deal like this. No disrespect Mr Plavsic, but we don't know you or your company, and we would need to be able to convince my board that the proposal merited them spending time reviewing it, by providing some evidence that you would be able to complete should a deal be done”.

  “Perfectly understandable” said Logan, “I would think the Bank should be able to give you something acceptable”. Logan then went on to say that they had better get back to the office and start work on preparing the paperwork. With that we all rose and shook hands and he, Plavsic, and Narai left. Alec and I sat down and ordered coffee.

  “I think we need to discuss this with Frank”, Alec had said. Frank Whittle is our non-executive Chairman and a wily old bird with many years experience in the world of banking and finance. “I’ll call him”. With that he was on his mobile. A few minutes later he’d said “Frank will be in Bristol in the morning, we could have a breakfast meeting, are you around?”

  “Yes” He went back on to the mobile,

  “We can make breakfast Frank, where will you be in an hours time? I want to give you some background but I don't want to do it on a mobile? OK, an hour and a half at your place”. With that he hung up and looked at me with a sigh. “What do you think about all that”?

  We’d then talked for a while. Logan seemed a straightforward banker, and Narai your typical bright MBA lackey, but neither of us could really make much of Plavsic. Alec had also noticed the slight East European accent, but other than thinking that he was not your typical city businessman there was little to add. Personally I had not taken to Plavsic. One of my failings, I tend to make early people judgements and Plavsic was someone I would not trust. No clear reason, just a feeling.

  Next morning we’d met with Frank at the deli coffee shop just round the corner from the office. The coffee was good and sitting in the corner one could have a quiet discussion without being easily over heard. I’d arrived early, got a coffee and bagged a secluded corner table. As I’d sat down a voice said “ good morning Mr Lever, early start today”? I’d turned to see Gordon Stewart a few tables away sitting on his own with a coffee in front of him. He’d waved and I, somewhat surprised, waved back. What was he doing here?