Chasm Waxing: A Startup, Cyber-Thriller

by BMichaelsAuthor

  She would connect with the A-Car using her anonymized laptop, communicating through a prepaid, 5G wireless modem. Becca hid a rootkit in the A-OS that allowed her to interact with the A-Car via an encrypted VPN link. She hoped all these anonymity and privacy efforts would mask her direct SIGINT with the A-Car.

  *

  Becca and Josh arrived in Brownsville, Texas just past 9:00 in the evening.

  Christmas decorations still adorned the city. Becca and Josh exited their ride in the unlit parking lot of a Hispanic grocery store. They ascended into the cab of a mid-sized moving truck. Painted on both sides of the van was the logo and tagline for, ‘Boss Storage.’

  Their new driver gave Becca the creeps. His leering eyes also seemed pleased with Becca’s blonde hair and tight yoga pants. A scar ran down the entire left side of his face. It looked like it was from a knife fight. Tattoos of dragons, scantily clad women, and Jesus covered the driver’s arms and neck. Becca drew no solace from the Jesus tattoo.

  Minutes later, the moving truck arrived at Boss Storage. After entering the access code, the driver meandered around a large number of outdoor storage units. There were tons of units; the facility was a massive maze.

  If anything happens, no one will ever find us, thought Becca. Josh looked just as uneasy.

  The disfigured driver stopped at Unit L. He backed the truck into a position, such that the van’s rear was very close to the storage unit’s entry. Everyone left the cab. The driver unhitched the moving truck’s rolling vertical gate. A two man team exited the truck, unlocked the storage unit, and lifted its retractable door. Then, they and turned on the lights.

  The men were just as sketchy as the driver. Becca’s heart raced. The space was 30 feet, by 30 feet. Boxes and junk filled the room from floor to ceiling. There was a small path down the center of the unit. The driver told the couple to walk down the middle of the aisle.

  Becca and Josh anxiously looked at one another. “Rapido,” ordered the driver. The couple did as told. As they walked down the partition, the driver followed. Becca felt like their nightmarish chauffeur could put a bullet in the back of their heads at any second. Maybe this storage unit was nothing more than a mausoleum. The couple reached the end.

  Josh turned around and bravely said, “There’s a box in our way. And then a cinder-block wall.”

  “Move it,” commanded the driver. Josh pushed the corrugated box aside, revealing a closed, wooden hatch. “Open it.”

  Josh complied. The couple could see could see a long ladder, descending into a dark hole.

  “That’s deep,” Becca gasped.

  “Climb down the ladder. When you reach the fifth rung, you’ll find another light switch.” Josh began descending and turned on the light. Becca followed.

  The dim bulb revealed more of the shaft, but the floor was still shrouded in shadows. “Hold on tight. It’s a long way to the bottom,” said the driver, looking down at both of them. He sealed the wooden hatch. Becca was excited just to get some distance—any distance from him. “Thank You, God,” she said, with a soft voice.

  The climb was nerve-wracking, but not as stressful as the last 40 minutes. Becca estimated that the ladder was about 100 feet long.

  “I don’t think this ladder would pass inspection by OSHA,” said Becca.

  Josh answered, “I’ll let you call them.”

  When they finally reached the dirt floor, there was another light switch. With a flick, numerous fluorescent tubes sputtered to life. They ran the length of the tunnel. Concrete completely encased the passageway. It was like walking through a storm drain. Air ducts hung from the ceiling, pumping in fresh air. Becca and Josh began their subterranean walk towards Mexico. Not only were they under the earth, but they were walking directly beneath the Rio Grande River.

  The couple hiked for about a mile and a half. After that, the concrete lining of the tunnel ceased. The next portion of the tunnel was hewn from the Mexican earth. Wooden beams, at intervals of every ten feet, reinforced the sides of the dirt tunnel. Water slowly dripped at many places along the way.

  Finally, another ladder appeared. It was much shorter than the first. Josh climbed the ladder and raised a stone enclosure. “Wow,” yelled Josh. “This is so awesome!” Becca scurried after him. The couple had climbed into a plush hotel room. Well, it was plush for Matamoros.

  “Buenas noches, Mr. Benjamin and Ms. Boucher. Welcome,” said a maid. “If this is acceptable, this will be your room for the night. I was just making sure everything was ready for you. Your driver will take you to Mexico City in the morning.”

  *

  The travels in Mexico went smoothly. Customs at the Mexico City International Airport barely even examined their fake Canadian passports. Amman agents were a bit more diligent, but not by much.

  Now, they were embarking on the most dangerous phase of their trip, moving from Jordan into Israel—through the Rabin crossing point. A salty breeze blew from the direction of the Gulf of Aqaba. Becca and Josh wore broad smiles, aided by the cotton balls stuffed in their cheeks. Before they got to the crossing point, Becca applied makeup to both of them. It distorted the contours of their faces. She had ditched all her electronics; there was plenty stashed on the other side.

  “Let’s hope the facial recognition software here works on facial features and not deep learning,” said Josh.

  “If not, then you are wearing make-up for nothing,” replied Becca. “But it looks exquisite.”

  Josh narrowed his eyes and scowled. “Is the makeup making me look like I’m smiling?”

  Becca chuckled. “Actually, the makeup doesn’t. But the cotton balls do.” At least, they could make each other laugh in a high-stakes moment.

  Deep learning based facial recognition software was much more accurate than the older type of software, which used calculations from facial measurements—like the distance between eyes—to identify people.

  “Wouldn’t it be ironic if the deep learning algorithms that led us to the Ark, got us imprisoned before we could find it?” asked Josh.

  “I had enough irony in English class,” replied Becca.

  Minutes later the couple walked up to a female, Israeli border guard. The Canadians pulled out their passports. The guard asked them a few questions. “Sarah and Abraham, that’s kh-ute,” she said, stamping their passports and waving them through. The sound of the Hebrew guttural and the pounding stamp was music to their ears.

  “That was all too easy,” said a relieved Josh.

  Becca replied, “It must have been the makeup.”

  Chapter 33 – The Dig

  9:35 a.m., Monday, January 11, 2021 – Jerusalem, Israel

  The Noble Sanctuary/ Temple Mount

  Becca and Josh stepped off the tour bus. They brusquely walked through the barriers guarding the Wailing Wall plaza. The illicit adventurers wore long coats, hats, and scarves. Not only was it a chilly morning, but the couple knew that cameras, drones, and advanced facial recognition software ran in overdrive at this location.

  They got lucky in Eilat. They didn’t want to press that luck on the most controversial piece of property on the face of the earth. After purposefully straggling behind their party, they ambled their way to mingle with other groups gathered in the plaza. Then they left altogether.

  After a short downhill walk through the Jerusalem streets, they came to the property purchased by Jared Adler. The house gave all the appearances of a residence undergoing extensive remodeling. A dump truck and industrial-grade machinery were on site. Scaffolds encircled the three-story house. It was bigger than Becca expected.

  “We’re looking for the construction foreman,” said Josh, to the first workman he encountered. The laborer wore a white hard-hat and looked Arab. He pointed to inside the house.

  The couple entered the residence and found the foreman. He stood in a spacious living room. Detailed architecture plans were scattered across makeshift desks. Josh gave the construction boss the code word.

  “Hi,
Abraham. I’m Ismael Khalid.” The foreman extended his hand to Josh. “And you must be Sarah?” Ismael wore a black and white checkered Palestinian kaffiyeh, with a black band around the crown of his head.

  “We’ve gotten a lot of work done in six weeks. I don’t know exactly what you guys are up to, but judging from the amount of dirt you’re moving and money you’re spending; it must be huge. You need to be careful. I served in the Mossad for many years.” Mossad was the Israeli CIA.

  “The mining engineer is sharp. And I’m confident in the Professor. But, I wouldn’t trust any of the others. I haven’t caught them doing anything yet, but it’s a sixth sense I’ve developed after working 20 years as a katsa.” Katsa was Hebrew for ‘collections officer,’ the Mossad’s equivalent of a CIA field agent.

  “Alright,” said Josh. “We’ll keep an eye on them.”

  Ismael continued, “So far, the hardest part about this project has been making sure everything stays powered. We installed high-performance solar panels on the roof, so that’s helping a bit. Between the tunneling drones, lights, and the ventilation system; you need a lot of power in the hole.”

  “We’re splitting it up between solar energy, the regular electric grid, and generators. We don’t want to draw too much attention to ourselves. We also ran fiber down the entry shaft, so you’ll have high-speed Internet access down there.” Ismael led them into a first-floor lavatory, with an over-sized Jacuzzi tub. He shut the door behind them.

  “Why’d you take us to the bathroom?” asked Becca.

  “Watch,” said Ismael. The former Mossad agent rotated the bathtub faucet to the left. The twist activated a hydraulic system. The tub sprang up, until it stood vertically in the air. Ismael then whirled the tub 180 degrees. This allowed unimpeded access to an eight-foot-square, steel platform.

  “Get on this deck and squat on all fours. When you’re comfortable, press this button. You’re going straight down for 30 feet. Then, you’ll find another platform. Step on it, and do the same thing. It’ll take you down to your bunker, or whatever it is you’re building down there.”

  The couple did as Ismael said. Becca pushed the button. As the platform lowered, they passed wooden two-by-fours, which reinforced the vertical shaft. Electrical conduit, dim lights, and thick PVC pipe ran on the far end of the limestone shaft.

  After a three story drop, Becca and Josh came to the second metal deck. The wall of the shaft enlarged. The couple scooted to the other platform and repeated the process. As they got closer to the bottom, sounds of machinery and an air hammer could be heard in the distance. Becca looked back to the old platform. Now, she could tell that they’d just exited an industrial scissor lift. They were on another. The explorers walked off the platform, as it came flush with a concrete slab floor.

  “Ello Luv,” said Professor McMillan. “Welcome to the City of David.”

  “Professor!” Becca rushed towards the tall Brit and embraced him. “I’m so glad to see you,” she said, over the noise of the excavation.

  “Crumbs! Unless I knew you were coming, I wouldn’t have recognized you. You have yourself quite a blonde bombshell of a girlfriend, there Josh.”

  “You got that right Professor. I sing ‘O Canada’ nearly every morning,” said Josh, almost tripping over the rails as he shook McMillan’s hand. “That’s more rails than I expected.”

  “Aye,” said the Professor. “How was your trip?”

  “Aside from some anxious moments getting across the US border, we’re shocked at how easy it was. There were no incidents whatsoever,” answered Becca.

  “That’s right brilliant. I’ve been here a little over eight days now. The others arrived some weeks ago.” McMillan pointed towards the tunnel apex. “This team has really knuckled under. They’re hard workers. The two tunnel-boring robots work side-by-side to dig the main excavation tunnel. Each robot expels dirt onto its minecart. That’s why there are two sets of tracks. The Mexican diggers take the earth from the minecarts and stuff it into these sacks. Loading and unloading dirt is the most manually intensive job down here.” The Professor pointed to the bags that resembled jumbo-sized potato sacks. “With the help of the blokes up top, we cram the sacks onto the scissor lifts.”

  Becca inhaled deeply and examined the anteroom more carefully. It was almost the exact size of the storage unit in Brownsville. Steel pillars attached to metal girders reinforced the staging area’s roof, at intervals of every six feet. “The air down here is better than I expected—just a little musty. I’m glad we wore sweatshirts, but it’s not too cold.”

  Three-by-three wooden supports and latticed mesh reinforced the bedrock walls of the staging room. The mesh reminded Becca of cargo nets. The main excavation tunnel was on the west side of the staging area. Electrical conduit and ventilation pipes, attached by C-clamps, hung from the top of the tunnel. They ran the length of the burrow and would grow, as the passageway lengthened.

  “Y’all have made a lot of progress,” said Becca, impressed.

  “Yup,” replied McMillan. He looked like a British version of Indiana Jones, with the hat and satchel. Maybe he did that on purpose, thought Becca. Indiana did find the Ark.

  The Professor pointed to the leading end of the tunnel. “You can thank El Minero, down there. He’s an extraordinarily talented mining engineer. He knows more about tunnels than I’ve ever forgotten. The bruv is a genius. Let me introduce you. But, put these on first.”

  McMillan gave Becca and Josh protective mining helmets, with lights attached to the crown. They walked together toward the tunnel apex. Currently, the tunnel was a little over 10 feet long. The Professor tapped El Minero on the back. The mining engineer was short, pudgy, and clean cut. He possessed a happy, round face. The two excavators kept working. Becca now had a better view of the tunnel-boring robots.

  They looked like miniature armored tanks, with egg-shaped bodies. Each robot had two, think oval treads that they used to grip the earth and propel themselves forward. At the front of the robots, circular cutting heads spun into the rock. The cutting heads were specially designed to slice through limestone. The back of the robot expelled dirt and pulverized bedrock into the minecarts.

  The boring robots created a tunnel that was five feet, by four and one-half feet. El Minero planned on reinforcing the shaft with wood, every 10 to 15 feet. One of the excavators extended the height of the tunnel’s crown by a foot, or so. He used an air hammer and pickax. Still, the Professor was in a constant stoop, as he moved through the tunnel. The other digger manipulated the dirt, minecarts, and potato sacks.

  After introductions, El Minero said, “These robots are amazing. We’re a lot further after six weeks of excavation than I planned. This is my first time using robots. It’s much faster than a human excavator. And they don’t need siestas. El Jefe will love these automatas.”

  “Why are you manually extending the height of the tunnel?” asked Becca.

  “Juan is just making sure the tube is more stable, by angling it,” replied El Minero. “Each robot has three, self-guided probes that it deploys into the rock. They’re like large drill bits. They bore forward in a star configuration. As they burrow, the probes use onboard sensors to search for existing tunnels and artifacts.”

  An Israeli, high-tech defense company developed the robot and probe platform. Israeli armed forces used them to locate Hamas’ tunnels in Gaza. Hamas used the subterranean passages to sneak into Israel and bypass border crossings, just like Becca and Josh in Brownsville.

  “Where are the other diggers?” asked Josh.

  “The Juans are sleeping up top. We switch them out every 12 hours,” said El Minero.

  “They’re all named Juan?” asked Becca, puzzled.

  “They are to you,” replied El Minero, with a smile. “The probes communicate with their host. Before they run out of charge, they reverse and re-attach themselves. Hopefully, the robots will quickly locate the old tunnel system.

  “We’re digging down, at roughly a 10-
degree angle, in case we hit groundwater. If you see any water, run to the lift and get out! I don’t like being so close to the Gihon Spring. With these robots, I estimate that we’ll be able to dig 20 feet per day. It’s twice as fast as manually digging. If we’re able to maintain that rate, we’ll be at your geo-marker in 45 to 60 days.”

  After listening to a few more details, Becca excused herself and went back to the anteroom. She set up a folding table and chair set. The hacker used the table for her comms equipment and laptop. She connected the fiber-optic cable that Ismael had run down the excavation shaft, to a specially configured fiber router. Becca assembled the router herself and shipped it to Israel. She was afraid of secret backdoors in any routers she bought retail.