The Polaris Protocol pl-5

by Brad Taylor

  I heard, “Chance for what?”

  I looked up and saw Kurt Hale. Way to go, bumble brain.

  My watch told me I’d been out for five hours, which amazed me. I said, “Chance to get some sleep. What’s up?”

  “We’ve found the guy, but it’s not pretty. The Oversight Council is working through options to mitigate the impact of the YouTube video given the information we now have. I need you and Jennifer to get back to Charleston and start doing normal things. Act like normal citizens in case someone comes around with questions. We think we can stop the bleeding fairly quickly, but not with you in Washington. Too many questions to answer.”

  “Who is it?”

  “It’s the son of an influential lobbyist here in DC. Unfortunately, a lobbyist working for the other party, against the administration. He made a career as a political aide, then took his skills to K Street. His son is the one doing the hack. A twenty-five-year-old loser. Apparently a genius who went to MIT and dropped out. Now he spends his time aggravating his dad by being a social leper, running around with Occupy Whatever Street and protesting economic summits. Lives in the basement of his father’s house in McLean.”

  “He’s here? Right here in DC? Shit, sir, let me go after him. We still have time.”

  “How? You think you’re going to kidnap the son of one of the most powerful lobbyists in DC? Then what? Throw him in the Cloud? If it was some lone-wolf loser living in a trailer somewhere, maybe I’d let you kick his ass for a lesson, but not here. We’ll leverage the folks inside the Oversight Council to mitigate the damage. Get the father to play ball using what he knows well — political capital.”

  “Sir, that’s crazy. He’ll smell blood in the water and get the very investigation we don’t want. He’ll use the video as a weapon. We need to do it preemptively. Like the congressman from Egypt. Remember him?”

  “Yeah. Of course. He had a hand in my father’s death.”

  “We do the same thing here. He went to prison for child porn instead of taking the heat for treason. Took the jail time instead of the death penalty.”

  “That’s just it. The kid hasn’t done anything, other than help Booth dig into our digital signature. He’s posted a video saying he’s going to expose an illegal government spy operation. Which is exactly what we are. We’re the ones breaking the law. We’ve got nothing to pin on him. The council isn’t too keen on a domestic operation like that. I tried earlier. They said I was acting like Los Zetas.”

  Now they get skittish.

  My mind working at ninety miles an hour, I said, “He’s a hacker, right? He’s hacked more than just our systems. Surely he’s done something illegal.”

  “Yeah, Creed’s found a ton of stuff, but we can’t very well charge him without exposing how we got the information. We might as well put up our own YouTube video.”

  “The father’s political?”

  “Political as they come.”

  “Okay. Get me into his house. The senator agreed to the child-porn thing so we wouldn’t give him the death penalty. Let me do the same thing here. I’ll put child porn on his computer. Then we send a tip to the police through Anonymous.”

  “What?”

  I began to pace, saying, “This will work. One of the things Anonymous does is expose child pornographers by hacking their systems and sending it to the police. About the only good thing they do. I’ll get porn on his computer, and our hacking cell will alert the police, posing as Anonymous. They take him down.”

  “Did you hear what I said earlier? The Oversight Council isn’t going to approve a frame like that. The congressman was a traitor and responsible for American deaths. This guy isn’t. They want to work it from the inside, using politics. Anyway, that’s only half the battle. That video is still going up.”

  “Wait, I’m not finished. You — or someone on the Oversight Council — engage the father. Somehow, get it in the father’s head or his lawyer’s head that his son was working with Anonymous to expose a child porn ring, and that’s why the evidence is there. He’ll jump on that like a hobo on a ham sandwich. He’ll go for the lesser charge of hacking over the child porn, and he’ll owe us big-time. We can get him to manage the video. Keep it from being a weapon. The kid gets a slap on the wrist and we get political control of the fight.”

  Jennifer was looking at me in awe. She said, “You mean you’re going to plant child porn on his computer, then alert the police posing as Anonymous, then have him get out of the child-porn charges by admitting he was attempting to expose other child pornographers by breaking the law working for Anonymous?”

  I said, “Yeah. That’s about the size of it. He gets charged with what he actually did — illegal hacking. We provide help to the lobbyist through the administration, and that video goes nowhere. No follow-on evidence. Surely the Oversight Council will agree to that.”

  She said, “Where has that been hiding? Have you always been that devious?”

  “Oh yeah. I got you to agree to Grolier Recovery Services, didn’t I?”

  It was a joke, but she scrunched her eyes, now wondering. I said, “Sir, let’s do it. All I need is Creedwater. Jennifer and I can handle the B & E. He can handle the computers.”

  Kurt looked at me much like Jennifer, probably reviewing every past decision he’d made involving my team and wondering if I had manipulated him. He said, “I have to get sanction for that. Obviously. But I like it.”

  I said, “Hell, it’s only ten in the morning. We can’t get in until nightfall anyway. You do your work, and I’ll do the reconnaissance. Just tell me if it’s a go.”

  81

  Apparently, the Oversight Council liked my deviousness, because twelve hours later I was sitting in a library parking lot about to pass the intel from our reconnaissance to the inbound team. Well, the council liked the plan but had really hated the idea of me doing the B & E. Too close to the flame for them. I guess it made sense. No matter how good I thought I was, every operation has a chance to go sideways. We were trying to defuse the YouTube video, and having the owner of Grolier Recovery Services arrested breaking into the house of someone who was about to post an exposé on Grolier Recovery Services wouldn’t do much to shorten the news cycle.

  Didn’t mean I had to like it.

  I saw the flash of headlights, and a car pulled in right next to us, killing the engine. I recognized the driver but went through the stupid dance of bona fides required by some Taskforce James Bond regulation. Eventually, the driver entered our car.

  I said, “Hey, Spanky. Long time no see.”

  His face broke into a grin. “They told me you had done the recce, but I thought for sure they were full of shit. Since when do you pull support? Why aren’t you going in?”

  “Oversight Council. Jennifer, give him the data.”

  For the first time, Spanky noticed who was sitting next to me. Well, noticed she was female. Honestly, I was unsure how this would go, as Jennifer was still a little bit of a novelty due to the cellular structure of the Taskforce. Most members had never seen her, much less operated with her, and I knew that plenty of people despised her because of her gender alone.

  He said, “Wow. So I’m getting briefed by a celebrity. Jennifer Cahill. Aka Koko. In the flesh.”

  I saw hesitation flit across her face and knew she was unclear on how to proceed. I felt the same way, wondering if he was paying her a compliment or about to piss me off. I opened my mouth to clear the air when he continued. “I heard about that call in Mexico. Gutsy shit.”

  That was it. Not much in the way of words, but all he had to say. The Taskforce was like a high school in many ways, with rumor and innuendo flying through its ranks due to the secrecy embedded in its construction. Made up of humans — very, very smart humans — who didn’t like to be kept in the dark, it was tribal, with tales passed by word of mouth at the shooting range or on the combatives mat. He’d just told me that Jennifer’s word of mouth was better than good.

  She nodded tentatively, the
n said, “You want the rest of the team to hear this? It’s a little complicated.”

  “Yeah. It’s just two of us, with a computer geek as a snap link. Bring the laptop to my car.”

  Twenty minutes later and she was done, back in my vehicle. I waved to Spanky and pulled away, hating the fact that we weren’t playing.

  Jennifer said, “He’s pretty nice. I thought that would be harder.”

  “Why? You had all the information they’d need. Did they agree with your plan?”

  “Well, yeah, I guess they had to. I didn’t have another idea. He asked a couple of questions like he didn’t want to execute a climb, but that’s what I’d do. I guess I should have made a plan based on no skill.”

  I broke into a grin, wondering if I’d ever get the chance to stab Spanky in the eye with that comment.

  Earlier, waiting on approval from Kurt, I’d kicked Jennifer from the car to play the “lady out for a stroll” while I took video from our vehicle on the target house. Since all I had done was take pictures, I’d tasked Jennifer with coming up with a plan. She’d briefed me her idea, basically sneaking in from the back deck using a caving ladder, but she hadn’t wanted to be responsible for telling the team. She wanted me to do so because of my referent firepower in the Taskforce, an idea I’d automatically shit-canned. There was nothing worse than someone else briefing your plan. I mean nothing.

  I said, “Did he think your course of action was weak? Or was it because you’d come up with the plan?”

  She thought for a moment, then said, “Neither. I think he was afraid of making the computer guy climb. But there was no other way.”

  I laughed, started the car, and said, “He’s just pissed that he didn’t prepare for contingencies. Good to go. Get Kurt on the phone.”

  She dug through her purse, and in the overhead glow from a streetlight I saw blood on her forearm, seeping through the bandage. Much worse than should have been happening. Reminding me how this wasn’t all fun and games. I said, “What’s up with your wound?”

  “Nothing.” She dialed, then passed me the cell. “The butterfly bandages aren’t holding, that’s all.”

  I started to respond, then heard a voice on the line. I scowled at her, knowing she’d handed the phone over precisely to prevent the conversation.

  It was Kurt. I gave him a SITREP, then asked how the timing was going for my brilliant plan.

  “Police are alerted. Shouldn’t be too long now. Oversight Council has the ball. They’ve already prepped the groundwork. Just waiting on the trigger.”

  “How long before the video is released?”

  “We don’t really know. Supposedly in the next few hours. We might actually get the arrest before it goes out, but even if we don’t we’re okay.”

  “Sounds good. I have to get Jennifer to an emergency room. Her cut has busted open. I’ll be on my cell. Let me know.”

  Kurt said, “I’ll do better than that. Your team is in town. The Colorado thing is blowing over. The fingerprints from the dead guy are tracing back to Mexico, tied into a bunch of drug cartel killings. Nothing to do with the team. The police are on a totally different trail now and spun up about the cartels being in Colorado. It was significant enough to bring in the DEA. They couldn’t care less about a bar fight. The worst of it is going to be a large fine for public drunkenness and disorderly conduct.”

  I leaned back in the seat, thinking about the circumstances. About how the dead hit man was going to provide cover for our team. About how I had been prevented from bringing out his body, and now that was going to draw attention away from our mission. About the random events that had caused the outcome.

  I said, “That’s probably the best news I’ve heard in days.”

  “After your last SITREP, I’m sure it is. Decoy’s waiting with a full med bag. Skip the emergency room.”

  I put the car in gear, saying, “Where are they?”

  “Twenty-Second Street Embassy Suites. They’re waiting on you at the bar. They’ve already reserved a couple of rooms for you and Jennifer. I’m going to need you in town for a few days, just in case.”

  I looked at Jennifer and said, “I can deal with that. No problem.”

  * * *

  We arrived at the Embassy Suites and moved straight to the restaurant in the back. It was closing in on one in the morning, but I wanted to see the team before crashing. We entered and they were all there, drinking around a table and telling lies. They saw us and waved. Decoy stood up and took Jennifer’s hand, stretching out her arm and checking out her bandaged wound. He was surprisingly tender, given his reputation as a man-whore.

  “I understand you could use my skills again.”

  She smiled and said, “Yeah. I guess so. I’m not as indestructible as you guys.”

  From the table, Knuckles grinned back, saying, “Nobody is. In our own minds.”

  She and Decoy walked away, and I got the skinny on what had happened after I’d flown out. In between talking, we watched the television like we were tallying precinct votes on an election night, waiting on the story.

  I waited for a break in the conversation, then leaned into Knuckles and said, “You didn’t tell anyone, did you? Nobody knows about Jennifer and me, right?”

  He said, “Pike, I haven’t said a word. Honestly, if you can make the right decisions, like you did in Mexico, I’m good with it.”

  “What about the team? You didn’t say anything to them?”

  “No. Not a word. Unlike you, when I say I won’t do something, I don’t.”

  I grimaced and said, “Knuckles, it wasn’t like that. It just happened. I didn’t ask for it.”

  He smiled and said, “Yes, you did.”

  Before I could answer, Blood said, “Here it is.”

  On the screen was a local newsman talking about an arrest for child pornography. The story would have been small, but it involved a very, very influential member of the political establishment, and in Washington, DC, that’s all it took. The newscaster made a point of saying that it wasn’t clear whether the computers in question had been from the father or the son.

  A twist I hadn’t even considered, but one that would definitely work in our favor.

  Jennifer returned with Decoy, her arm in a new bandage. She had a smile on her face like she’d just heard a good joke. Given that she’d been with Decoy for thirty minutes, it raised my alert status.

  I said, “Good to go? He didn’t carve you up like a SEAL?”

  She said, “No. He was gentle.” She winked at me and said, “I swear all we did is talk about you.”

  For no reason whatsoever the words caused a spasm of jealousy. What the hell does that mean?

  Decoy said, “You two must be smoked. No rest for the wicked.”

  I said, “Yeah, actually, I could use some sleep. You guys have our rooms, or do we need to check in?”

  Blood said, “We checked you in.”

  He slid across a key-card envelope. I opened it and saw a single key.

  Confused, I said, “Is this my room or Jennifer’s?”

  I looked up to find all of them smirking. Next to Decoy, with a grin on her face, Jennifer said, “I don’t know about Kurt, but I think that answers your question about the team.”

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Originally, in outline form, this manuscript was tracking to be a personal Taskforce action to rescue Jennifer’s brother, period, with little in the way of global stakes. Even so, I needed something to get the Taskforce involved and chose our unmanned aerial vehicle usage on the border as a sort of throwaway linkage to the drug cartels. I studied weaknesses and homed in on the GPS controls, specifically for the UAV. It would have stayed that way, but the more I researched our GPS constellation, the more astonished I was at how many things in our lives are controlled by it. So much so that Arthur Booth was born and the manuscript took a decidedly different tack.

  The Architecture Evolution Plan for our GPS is real, as is the fact that Boeing is building it. Sele
ctive availability is a real thing, and President Clinton did order it turned off in 2000, for good reason. GPS does, in fact, provide a single point of failure for a ton of things you don’t even think about, such as most of the cellular phone networks in the United States, a majority of banking transactions, power grids, stop lights, and a host of other things, but the reader can rest easy at night. The GPS constellation is a very important part of our daily lives, but it’s also one of the most secure and robust assets that we have, from the ground systems to the satellites themselves. How do I know? Because I had the honor of seeing it in action.

  I’m indebted to LTC Tom “Steamer” Ste. Marie and public affairs officer Jennifer Thibault, who both graciously facilitated my visit to Schriever Air Force Base. Steamer, the commander of the 2nd SOPS that controls the GPS constellation, took time out of his busy schedule to explain how it functions and fix some of my pretty boneheaded technical details (proving once again, just because it’s on the Internet doesn’t mean it’s accurate). In my previous life, I had to give informational briefings to numerous people, and it was always a pain, as it took me away from something more important — namely national defense. We used to call it Touching the Magic, and this time I was on the receiving end from the 2nd SOPS squadron commander. For that, I am grateful. More important, we’re all indebted more than we know to the men and women of the 2nd SOPS who keep the GPS constellation flying. They do a tremendous amount of work that goes unsung by the average public, but not by those who study such things. In 2011, the International Astronautical Federation gave a one-time sixtieth anniversary award, picking the single thing in the annals of space exploration that demonstrated measurable benefit to humanity as a whole. The Global Positioning System was chosen out of everything else that’s ever been done in space. After my research, I’m surprised it took so long. Rest assured, while the 2nd SOPS is allowed to chuckle, any mistakes with reference to the constellation are mine and mine alone.