Not So Dead: A Sam Sunborn Novel

by Charles Levin

  Now I was getting really scared. “All three possibilities are horrendous, but which is the easiest to hack?”

  Frank put his virtual finger to his chin. “I’m not sure easiness is one of the Leopard’s top criteria, since he has pulled off some pretty remarkably difficult stunts. Plus, I suspect he may have the help of some Cyber Warriors like me by now.” Well, the cat was definitely peeking his head out of the bag.

  Gary seized on Frank’s comment. “What are you talking about? ‘Cyber Warrior,’ huh?”

  “Oh, I just meant super-hackers like me. But, maybe a better criteria filter here is ‘feasibility,’ which is slightly different than easiness. ‘Feasibility’ goes more to the question of what is possible or impossible, not just hard to do.”

  Al couldn’t help herself. “You guys, this is not an academic exercise. Can you just cut to the point?”

  I had to keep us on track. “Sorry Frank, we’re just getting a little anxious here. What’s your bottom line on the three nuclear possibilities?”

  “Applying the feasibility criteria, I’d narrow the possibilities to dirty bombs or power plants. The nuclear missile system is pretty much an air-gapped system, which means it’s offline, and there are multiple stopgaps requiring high-level human approvals. So I think missiles are less likely.”

  “Then if it’s bombs or power plants, how would he do it?”

  “The problem with dirty bombs is they are physical objects that tend to be big. The material is also hard to acquire in enough quantity to do multiple explosions of sufficient size to do the kind of damage we’re discussing. Actual suitcase bombs are smaller but need a level of technical expertise and resources that are even more limited,” Little said.

  “Yes, your analysis is accurate,” Frank said.

  “Power plants are hackable as we’ve seen in some recent incidents. Plus it doesn’t require lugging anything physical around. All you need is some smart guys or women and Internet access. Aren’t they the most likely targets?” I said.

  “They are hackable, but the nuclear generator part is again air-gapped. Plus we have made them a top priority for beefed up physical and digital security.”

  While we kicked this around, Gary was typing away on his keyboard. He turned to us. “Do you know what the most effective and devastating hacks are? I’ll tell you. They are human hacks, or what is currently called ‘Social Engineering.’ That is when somebody gives up a password or leaves it on a sticky note. More brazen hackers might even call up an organization, get the right person on the phone and say, ‘Oh, I lost my password, can you tell me what it is?’ And they give it to him. One pop artist recently asked his fans on Twitter to send him their passwords and 10,000 people did. It’s true.

  “Perhaps the most relevant example is the Stuxnet virus. By now, most people know it was some of the most creative code ever written in its amazing ability to propagate itself and attack the Iranian centrifuges. The centrifuges as well as most of the other sensitive nuclear plant equipment were not connected to the Internet or any outside network. So how did we, er, how did they manage to get it in?”

  “No clue,” Little said.

  “We, er, they had an employee in the plant working for the US who stuck an infected flash drive into their system at their facility. The human hack enabled the virus to get into the system. I’d argue that most successful and devastating cyber attacks have a human element, whether it’s sloppiness or spycraft, that make them work.”

  “Very good point,” Frank said. “So perhaps, the Leopard could have secret cohorts embedded at our nuclear facilities, ready to plug in their flash drives or push whatever buttons to set off meltdowns?”

  I was stunned. “Oh my God. If that’s really the best, or I should say worst but likely scenario, what do we do?”

  “That, my son, is a very good question.”

  CHAPTER 85

  BIG TIME ANYWAY

  I liked it when Frank called me ‘son.’ It felt good. Since my father died when I was only a year old, Frank had become, over these many months, the closest thing to a father I had known.

  “I need some air.” I stepped out the back door of the van. Little and Al followed me. The sun was pretty high in the sky now and seemed perched just right between the tall buildings, illuminating the narrow street. Everything seemed so normal as people rushed about to appointments and meetings, to lunches and bars. They had no idea what was happening and how their lives could change in an instant, forever. “This is beyond me, guys.” I felt lost. That dark cloud of depression was descending on me again like a dense fog after a rainstorm.

  Little was already on his phone, updating his bosses, I’m sure. Al just stood silently looking as stunned as I felt. Little ended his call. “Well I’ve called in the cavalry. There are sixty-one commercially operating nuclear power plants with ninety-nine nuclear reactors in thirty states in the United States. DHS has 240,000 employees. I think we can cover ninety-nine locations. We’re dispatching strike teams and analysts to all those locations. We think we can be in situ within two to three hours. I sure hope your logic is right, or I’ll have quite a mess to clean up when this is all over.”

  “Whoa, we were just discussing possibilities. As a friend of mine said, ‘When the shit hits the fan, I don’t want to be the fan.’” I realized how weak that sounded after I said it. “I’m sorry. This is all a little overwhelming.”

  Al said, “What other choice do we have? If we’re wrong, we’re fucked big time anyway.”

  “Well put,” Little said with a grim smile.

  “So, where can we be of the most use?” I wondered out loud

  “I think we should go to the nearest power plant, which is Indian Point. It’s about forty miles north of here on the Hudson in Peekskill. I believe they have three reactors there. I think seeing them in person may help us evaluate the threat better and maybe help with strategy,” Little said.

  “Yeah, I mean we can’t just go in there with guns blazing. How will your guys enter and handle the incursion?” Al said.

  “Let’s jump in the car and discuss on the way there. We have whole teams of people that plan and rehearse this kind of thing.” Little said. Just then, a black SUV pulled in next to us. “Get in. Gary, come out. Lock up the van. You’re with us.” Gary emerged from the van, carrying his tablet and looking a little bewildered. He poked his head back into the van, looked around and then locked it. Speaking quickly into a lapel mic, he jumped in the SUV beside us.

  “Gary, sorry to pull you away, but you may be more valuable helping us figure out the best plan of attack here. I think the teams will probably start with a Level 1 soft incursion. They’ll basically walk in the doors, show ID and have a look around. If anything looks or smells suspicious, they’ll escalate. Meanwhile, the techs on the team will monitor and even shut down their local systems if necessary.”

  “Wait, what are you talking about and where are we going?”

  “Sorry, you were in the van and missed a step. As we speak, we’re mobilizing tac teams to hit, or I should say ‘visit,’ all sixty-one US nuclear power plant sites. We’ve also notified the French of the threat in case something similar is planned there. We’re on our way to Indian Point to assist.”

  Gary moved his hand through what remained of his thinning red hair. He looked ashen. “Geez. Assist? You mean like with guns and stuff? I’m just a computer guy.”

  “Guns are the last thing we have in mind. We need brains first to identify the specific threat, whether that be physical or digital, and then figure out how to stop it. That’s why we need you and all the brains we can muster. According to our scenario, that threat’s going to probably be a person on site.”

  “OK, I see. If I can get access to their systems as soon as we get there, I may be able to suss something out.”

  “That’s the idea. Excuse me while I take this call. We’ve got some serious coordinating to do.” Little sank into a heavy conversation for the rest of the ride.

&n
bsp; I thought I should call Monica. I pulled up Google on my phone. “California Nuclear Power Plants.” I felt my stomach turn over and my head throb. She and Evan were less than fifty miles from Rancho Seco Nuclear Generating Station. I had to warn her. She had to get out of there.

  CHAPTER 86

  COLD SHOWER

  I remember my mother telling me that when she was pregnant with me in 1979, there was a partial meltdown and serious radiation leak at the Three Mile Island Plant near Pittsburgh. My parents, who were living in western New Jersey at the time, were quite frightened. So my dad put my mom on a plane, and she flew to stay with friends in Boston until the radiation cloud passed.

  I called Monica. After a few rings I got, “Hello. Hello? Are you there? Well, I’m not. So please leave me a message, and I’ll call you back as soon as I can.” Monica thought that voicemail greeting was funny. At this moment, I was not laughing.

  I left her a voicemail explaining the new phone number. Then I hung up and texted her the new number. “Call me as soon as you can, it’s important.” As I learned from Evan, it seems nobody really checks their voicemail anymore. Maybe just to clean it out once in awhile, but everybody reads their text messages. Now I waited. I drummed my fingers on the armrest, my breathing shallow. Breathe. Nightmare, Hiroshima-like scenarios played in my head.

  Al turned to me. “What’s the matter? You look sick.”

  “My family is near a nuclear reactor, the Leopard may be tracking Monica and I can’t reach her.”

  “Oh, fuck.” Al frantically pulled out her phone and started calling. Now it was suddenly personal for all of us.

  After what seemed like an eternity, but was probably only twenty minutes, my phone rang. Skype came up on the screen. Monica was still in her robe, but drying her hair. “I got maybe twenty texts from you. What’s with this new number? I had to take a cold shower after our last phone call. What’s the emergency? Are you OK?”

  “I’m fine, but you need to get Evan and get out of there as fast as possible.”

  “Wait. What’s going on? Another gunman?”

  “No. Nothing like that but maybe just as dangerous. Head southeast. You’ve got to get as far away from Rancho Seco Park as fast as possible. Don’t pack. Just leave.”

  “Huh? Wait. The only thing there is a nuclear plant…” Silence. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

  “I can’t say or I’m sure I’m not supposed to say, but I think you understand.” I quickly checked Google Maps on my phone. Head toward Fresno and just keep going until we speak again. I’m suggesting south to southeast in case there’s a cloud.”

  “Oh my God! OK. Got it. But what about Jerry and my bodyguards?”

  “Take them with you. Their orders are to guard you, not to lock you in place. Just tell them there’s a family emergency, which is true. You can’t tell them what you really suspect.”

  “I understand.”

  “One other thing. Destroy your cell phone immediately after we hang up. I mean really crush it. Buy a burner phone at RadioShack with cash and text me your new number. To my new number.”

  “Sam, this is really scary.”

  “I know. As soon as you get the new phone, call me. I need to know you’re safe.”

  “You too.” Her face disappeared from the screen.

  CHAPTER 87

  ACELA

  The Acela train to Boston’s South Station arrived on time. Besides a few stares from other passengers on the train, it was uneventful. Looking Middle Eastern in this country often attracted attention, especially on public transportation. He could feel the underlying current of fear and probably hate. But he knew they were mostly too weak to act.

  He walked over to the T station, which is Boston’s subway system, and consulted a map on the wall. Then he headed to the Red Line platform. Five stops and about twenty minutes later, he stepped from the station, went up the steps and emerged into bright, sunlit Harvard Square. Traffic rushed by him in all directions. And he thought the traffic in Tehran was bad. He had picked Boston-Cambridge for its access to talent. Also, the only nuclear plant in Massachusetts was on Cape Cod and any fallout would probably blow out over the ocean. He had no intention of being a suicide-bomber.

  He had been here once before to inspect the “office” when it was setup about a year ago. He toured the office with a man nicknamed “Fredo.” When Fredo could not assure him he could carry out the plan, LaSalam had to “replace” him. There were any number of sympathetic and talented people at MIT, just a few miles down the road, who could make his idea work. And if they weren’t sympathetic, he knew how to make them sympathetic.

  He walked down John F. Kennedy Street toward the Charles River. Once he got away from the stores and restaurants, the street had some large brownstone, very expensive residences. Through a wealthy Barinian businessman’s company, he had acquired one of the brownstones for $3 million. That was about average here and it did not stand out. In most places you could buy a block or even a small town for that kind of money. But it didn’t matter. His backers had plenty of money and they didn’t care.

  The upstairs of the house provided eight bedrooms, living areas and kitchen for the twelve people that worked at the office in the basement. He walked around the back of the house, through a small grassy yard with lawn chairs and a barbeque and down the rear steps to the basement door. Everything about the house and yard looked normal, except the retinal scanner on the basement stairs. He looked into the scanner, confirmed with a finger scan and the steel door buzzed and clicked open.

  It was 5:00. He entered the room that was mostly dark except for the glow of computer screens illuminating the faces of the young people in the cubicles. There were several large OLED screens on the side walls with images from sites around the US and in France. He was approached by an attractive young woman with dark brown skin and deep brown eyes, wearing a hijab that barely concealed her long brown hair. He couldn’t help staring at her full eyebrows and her pronounced lips. He felt a little twinge, like he had not felt for an adult woman in years. Her name was Michelle Hadar and she was a top graduate student in Computer Science at MIT. Back home, he could never have put a woman in charge, but things were different in the US and maybe better in certain small ways. She was the best he could find, both with tech skills and a strong leader’s personality. She may not have shared his ideals and obsessions, but she had a mother, father and brother that would have been in danger if she did not fully cooperate. He smiled as he thought, the “fully” might include some of the activities he enjoyed with Mr. P’s young girls, but there was much serious work to be done first.

  Michelle turned and approached him. “Hello sir, how was your trip?”

  The warmth of her smile melted his usual harsh command style. “It was fine and you are looking most beautiful today. Maybe you will join me for dinner later? Meanwhile, what is our status?”

  She took his elbow and gently pulled him to one side of the darkened room. This was a very forward gesture that would not normally be tolerated, but somehow he enjoyed her touch. “I have recruited eleven of the most talented engineers that I know. Two are women. I hope that’s not a problem.”

  “At home, you know that would not be acceptable, but as the Americans say ‘When in Rome…’ Perhaps I could meet these women later. I am fascinated by accomplished women.”

  “That’s very western of you and I appreciate it. All systems are up and working. We are monitoring the designated sites. The team here believes we are working on a simulation for the US government. That is why I chose a mix of Americans and our people to avoid suspicion. They are being paid well by you and appreciate the room and board upstairs. So they don’t ask too many questions.”

  “Very well. Unlike our operation in New York where we could control our efforts entirely from the office, this operation requires coordination with our men in the field. You understand?”

  “Yes and we have com links set up with those agents in the private
office in the back.” She pointed to a better lit room with a glass window at the back of the office. “We have two specialists in there who are more attuned to your goals and understand most of the actual details of the plan.”

  “When will you be ready to execute?”

  “I’d like to schedule it for tomorrow at 6:00 AM. That way our specialists would be rested and alert. I want them to be at their peak, so they can act with speed and precision.”

  Her intensity and intelligence were making him feel very warm. “That makes sense, but that is also the time when our targets may be fully staffed and alert. I’d prefer to pick a time when they and any first responders are at lightest staffing. Let’s pick a time when we have the advantage of maximum surprise. Have you analyzed their staffing levels?”

  “Yes. Their minimum level is at 2:00 AM, one hour before a shift change at most facilities. Of course, there are time zone issues to consider and France is several hours ahead. However, for a simultaneous ignition, 2:00 AM Eastern Time is optimal from the average target’s staffing and readiness analysis.”

  “Good. Then we go at 2:00 AM. Give your team time to rest earlier if you feel it’s necessary.”

  She knew better than to argue. She had heard the stories and she had cloned LaSalam’s phone when she first met him for her interview. Using that, she had listened in on his conversations with Eskabar. She was even able to remotely activate his cell phone’s camera. So she not only knew about some of his brutal acts, but she had also witnessed, with disgust, his fetish for young girls. What could she do? She had to protect her family. But even for them, could she carry out the Leopard’s plan? She wasn’t sure. “Yes, sir. That makes sense. I will alert the team and the on-site agents to the new schedule and will make sure our team is fed, rested and alert at 2:00 AM. But I will respectfully ask that we do dinner another time. I have much to prepare if our task is to be successful.”