by Fritz Galt
As soon as he reached work, he checked if Bob was in his office.
“Come in, rookie.”
Jake stepped in and took a seat. Bob had come to him with the fingerprint news and Jake wanted him to follow through investigating it.
Jake explained the whole sequence of events that had led Stacy not to identify Simon Wu in the line-up. “If we assume that what she said is true, Wu simply was not at the scene of the crime. I believe that either the perpetrator planted the evidence or someone in the DOJ tampered with it.”
“And you want me to follow through on the chain of custody, etc. and find out where the breach occurred?” Bob said.
“That’s right. Today I’m going to the Agency and don’t have time to talk with the lab about the prints.”
“Okay. Go see the boys at Langley,” Bob said. “I’ll look into where the fingerprints came from.”
“Thanks, boss.”
Jake returned to his desk and pondered a question that had arisen from Epstein’s phone call early that morning. Stacy knew Han Chu, yet she hadn’t identified him on the bike path.
It seemed somewhat improbable, but it leant credence to the idea that Chu was looking for her, not the other way around. If Jake could only interview Stacy about problems with Quantum, Inc., it might shed some light on what Chu had in mind to tell her.
But Epstein was against another interview. Stacy was Epstein’s subject at the moment, and Jake didn’t want to interfere with the Criminal Division director’s probe.
Epstein was right about Jake’s real duties. He still had to find that one missing piece of the puzzle: motive.
Supposing the Chinese were behind this, what would they be up to? Tampering with the A root server was more than stealing trade secrets. It meant messing up the world economy. Why would China want to kill the goose that laid the golden egg?
He reached for his phone and called Todd Williams’ contact at the CIA.
Shortly after noon, Jake was on the George Washington Memorial Parkway driving toward Langley. Usually spooks came to FBI headquarters to give briefings, but today he was making the trek to the CIA.
His FBI badge got him onto the parking lot, but not into the building.
His contact, Bill Brewster, was waiting just inside the lobby. Bill was a large guy who was all belly and no shoulders. He adjusted his thick glasses, signed Jake in and smoothed his scruffy beard. “Welcome to the Agency.”
Together they passed the CIA motto engraved in stone, taken from John 8:32, “And ye shall know the truth and the truth shall make you free.”
At the New Headquarters Building, they walked past a sculpture of horses breaking free of the Berlin Wall and an eagle with its wings spread open in attack mode.
People passed through the building in some unusual garb. Most wore business suits, but one man wore a pith helmet and safari suit, and a group wore desert camouflage. If any agency could nail international hackers, it was the CIA.
Bill took him into a brightly lit conference room and closed the door.
He showed Jake a seat, then sank into a chair opposite him. “You’re asking about cyber security?” Bill said.
Jake nodded. “What does the CIA offer in that department?” He was hoping that he had stumbled on an organization with something akin to Fort Meade’s Cyber Command, but this time with the ability to investigate and retaliate.
Bill closed his eyes and began. “We’re in the middle of a five-year strategic plan to prevent and fight cyber threats. This is part of a government-wide program to ramp up across all agencies responsible for the critical information infrastructure.”
Jake had heard all that before, but let the man finish.
“We’ve made every attempt to keep up with cyber threats and dangerous technology.”
“Okay,” Jake cut him off. “But what if there is a cyber attack plot brewing somewhere in the world. Would you be able to detect it?”
Bill opened his eyes. “We keep tabs on many sources of suspicious activity.”
“Say, in China.”
“China, Iran. Russia, North Korea. You name it.”
“What if they’re no longer in that country, and have moved their operation to the United States?”
“We’re aware of such moves as they occur.”
“Say someone is preparing to attack the A root server.”
Bill stared at him blankly. “The what?”
Oh boy. Just as Jake had worried, CIA employees were not technical specialists.
Bill seemed sensitive about the gap in his knowledge of the IT world, and quickly moved to cover it up. “We’re aware of specific threats hackers have posed to large corporations, the U.S. Government, defense contractors and the like.”
“How about the Chinese?”
“They steal secrets from oil companies, patent lawyers, pharmaceutical companies, whatever, on a daily basis. They relentlessly exploit every crack in classified and unclassified systems.”
“How do they do it?” Jake asked.
Bill closed his eyes. “There are various disparate groups of hackers in China, even a group of girl hackers. But there’s also a concerted military effort to coordinate attacks with industrial and military needs. The government can tap into its reserve of private hackers for whatever it wants. They turn off anti-virus software, then go in and attack computers. Or they get the key to become system administrators. Or they send out email spyware, or insert Trojan Horses, etc.”
“Okay,” Jake cut him off. “You’re talking about stealing business or military secrets. But breaking into the A root server would compromise and possibly bring the entire World Wide Web to a grinding halt. Who is prepared to jeopardize the internet?”
Bill’s eyes flashed open. His look told him that he thought Jake might be off his rocker. “The Chinese government has nothing to gain from bringing down the internet. Their whole emphasis is to give them an edge in the world economy.”
“I accept that,” Jake said. “But let’s just think outside the box for a moment. Your agency knows China inside and out. Who might want to shut down the internet completely?”
Bill scratched his beard. “I can’t imagine. Are you sure someone’s trying to do that? And how?”
Now the CIA was asking him questions.
“All we know so far,” Jake said, “is that a minority-owned company, run by Chinese-Americans and employing programmers on work visas from China, is providing encryption software to the root server of the internet. The Department of Commerce has identified recent attacks on the server, at all but the highest security level.”
Bill appeared to be in listening mode.
“Given access to the A root server,” Jake went on, “they can remove links to all .com URLs, or re-name websites, or I suppose re-route traffic to their own computers. In short, they can control all access to email and web addresses.”
“This would be a massive computer attack,” Bill said. “I don’t think anybody has thought that big before.”
“And I’m asking you to. I’ve talked to Homeland Security and it seemed over their heads. I talked to the military, and they’re hampered from counterattacking. And I’ve talked to the National Security Agency and they can’t prevent a thing. So I’m turning to you to help us identify the source of these attacks, figure out what they’re up to and thwart it. In essence, what we need is post 9/11 think before the next 9/11 event occurs. We need Hack Attack think before the attack. Imagine the unimaginable.”
“We are aware of various provincial elements within China jockeying for more control over the national agenda…”
“Go on.”
Bill closed his eyes again. “Of course there are always nationalist elements, but also politicians who are out to make a name for themselves. Our embassy and consulates and our China Bureau would be up on the specifics. And they pass along what they learn to the relevant agencies.”
“I see,” Jake said. “And they haven’t reported anything on the scale I’m sugg
esting.”
Bill pointed at the door. “I can assure you, if our operatives or analysts learned anything of that nature, I’d know about it. So far, nothing.”
Not only did Jake feel his expectations deflate, but he felt he wasn’t being taken seriously.
He considered giving the CIA some of the information he had already learned. He could give Bill the names of people at Quantum, but Michael Epstein didn’t want Jake interfering with his investigation.
Jake was left with the uneasy feeling that countering a computer attack lay outside the core competencies of the various agencies of the federal government. It was nobody’s problem but his.
He stood and reached out to shake Bill’s hand. “Thanks for your help,” he said. “I learned a lot.”
It was one case where the truth didn’t exactly make him free.
Chapter 20
Bob Snow was waiting excitedly for Jake to return to the office. “I looked into Simon Wu,” he said. “You won’t believe this.”
“Believe what?” Jake removed his business jacket and laid it over the back of a chair. He sat down, exhausted, in another chair.
Bob remained standing behind his desk. “You knew that Simon Wu is working in WITSEC.”
Jake nodded. The Federal Witness Protection Program was also called the Witness Security Program, or WITSEC for short.
“You won’t believe who Wu is assigned to protect,” Bob said.
Jake was tired from battling the traffic and just wanted to get to the point. “Who?”
“Stacy Stefansson.”
That got Jake’s attention. “Let me get this straight. Simon Wu’s in charge of protecting her?”
Bob grinned. “Maybe Wu was protecting her on the bike path. Maybe Han Chu was actually planning to assault her.”
“That’s not Stacy’s recollection.”
“Maybe Chu had a concealed weapon.”
Jake tried to picture the scene. “If that’s the case, why didn’t Stacy identify Wu as the assailant?”
Bob shrugged. “Witnesses are often unreliable.”
“Not that unreliable. Stacy knows Wu as a friend. She would have recognized him on the bike path. Of course, she didn’t recognize Han Chu there, either.”
“She knew Han Chu, too?” Bob said with concern.
“According to Michael Epstein, Chu worked with her company.”
Bob was serious for the first time. “Jake, what happened on that bike path was not spontaneous. And it certainly wasn’t a coincidence.”
Jake had to agree.
But he focused on the news that Wu was assigned to protecting Stacy. Was she being protected by a killer?
Jake had trained briefly alongside the witness protection unit several years ago, but was hardly up-to-date with their methods. “What sort of access does Wu have to Stacy?”
Bob looked troubled. “A lot.”
“What do you mean by a lot? One of the first rules is not to draw attention to the person you’re protecting.”
“And the second rule is to protect her. Jake, Simon Wu lives with her.”
“Lives…?” Jake was floored. “Stacy said he’s her ‘guy friend.’”
Then it all became clear.
“I drove past her house a couple of times earlier this week,” Jake confessed. “And there was an Asian man carrying in her groceries. I think it’s the same guy who hustled her away from the funeral.”
“That’s your Simon Wu.”
Jake shot to his feet and stared out the window. “This doesn’t make sense. If the U.S. marshals are protecting Stacy, why did Director Hoffkeit assign me to investigate the case?”
“As I’ve said before,” Bob said, “this amounts to an internal investigation. How far do you want to go with this before taking it to the Inspector General?”
“I have to assume that Hoffkeit wanted me to solve the case.”
“Did he?”
Jake stared at the Washington Monument on the eastern horizon and thought back to the meeting he had with the director and other top brass at FBI Headquarters immediately after his interview with Stacy. Hoffkeit had waxed poetic, suspecting that the murder might be the result of “patriotism.”
What had he meant by that?
And why select Jake to handle the case?
He remembered how the director had come all the way out to the field office to look him over, review his service record, grill him, and probe his inner thoughts.
Jake had been proceeding under the assumption that he had the director’s full support.
For the first time, it occurred to him that maybe the director had picked him for his mediocrity. Maybe the director didn’t want the case solved.
That made him feel great.
But what concerned Jake even more was why Stacy was in Witness Protection. What did she do or see? Who were the marshals protecting her from? Why did the WITSEC program settle her in DC?
He adjusted the gun in his shoulder harness and reached for his jacket.
“Where are you going?” Bob said, alarmed.
“I don’t care what Epstein says. I’m going to find Stacy and pull her out of this situation.”
“You can’t barge into a protected witness’s life,” Bob said. “You’ll blow her cover.”
“Cover for what?”
Jake strode out of the office and Bob raced after him. “I’m coming with you.”
Jake slammed his car door shut and Bob jumped in beside him.
“Where are you taking us?” Bob asked.
“Stacy’s house.”
Jake drove briskly through town. Things were beginning to add up.
The evidence implicated Wu. Regardless of Stacy’s testimony, the murderer had been a short person, and Wu’s personnel file backed up that fact.
As far as access, nobody was closer to Stacy and had more opportunity to protect her than her WITSEC handler. Wu could very likely have been on that bike path at the time of the murder.
And lastly, Wu was sure to know about Stacy’s job, and would be in a position to know about Han Chu and his company’s involvement with the A root server. If Wu knew of any malfeasance on the part of Quantum, he would be on the lookout to protect Stacy.
They reached Patrick Henry Drive.
Suddenly the irony of the street name struck Jake. Patrick Henry, who had proclaimed “Give me liberty or give me death,” was a true patriot. Was Wu a true patriot, or masquerading as one?
They would soon find out.
It was late afternoon and the harsh sunlight had grown muted by an atmosphere thick with humidity. The sun was a red ball in the western sky.
Jake nosed the car up to the curb. He stopped under a tree in front of Stacy’s house and idled there.
Her Jeep was gone. No lights were on. And all her shades were pulled down.
He glanced across at the passenger seat, and Bob slumped into a relaxed position. They would wait for her to return.
An hour later, she hadn’t shown up.
Bob was checking email on his smartphone. “Get this,” he said with a note of excitement, and handed Jake the phone.
According to Michael Epstein, Stacy Stefansson had made an unexpected trip to Charlottesville. There was a local police report shortly thereafter that an engineering student had been murdered in his bed. He was a computer engineer by the name of Jason Yang. Epstein was directing assets to Charlottesville the next day.
It was clear to Jake where he needed to head immediately. “Want me to drop you at the office?” Jake offered his boss.
“You aren’t going to Charlottesville,” Bob said.
“Stacy’s there, and another Chinese software guy was murdered there. I’m going to Charlottesville.”
Bob looked at him sideways. “Let me talk to Epstein first.”
Jake consented, and worked on defrosting the air conditioner.
The call went through quickly and Bob asked for updates. He nodded repeatedly. “Packed her bag… Left with someone named S
imon Wu… Cleaned out her refrigerator… Took her passport. Got it.”
Bob exchanged glances with Jake. Jake shook his head and put a finger to his lips.
“I’m with Agent Maguire,” Bob said. “What should I tell him?”
Jake could hear the angry response over the phone. “She’s my subject. Keep his hands off Ms. Stefansson.”
The line went dead.
Bob looked at Jake. “You heard him.”
“Didn’t hear a thing,” Jake lied.
He looked at the closed-up house and could imagine the scene that had transpired there just hours before. He could picture Wu gathering up Stacy’s passport and hustling her off to Charlottesville.
Bob was uncharacteristically subdued. “Epstein doesn’t know we’re looking into Wu.”
Jake was mildly surprised that Bob hadn’t mentioned Wu’s name to Epstein. But nobody wanted to reveal an internal, undercover investigation.
“I’m afraid for Stacy’s safety,” Bob said at last.
Jake looked at him. “You coming?”
Bob gave a doleful look. “You’re on your own, rookie.”
Jake put the car in gear and peeled away from Stacy’s house. He took his boss straight to the office, and let him out at the front door.
“Be careful,” were Bob’s parting words. “And take your passport.”
Chapter 21
Charlottesville was a hilly town, covered by forests and centered around railroad tracks that ran straight past the university campus.
Jake had called ahead and requested that the local police preserve the crime scene including the body.
The detective in charge of the investigation sounded peeved that Jake asked for him to wait as he drove down from the Washington area, but reluctantly consented to preserve everything until Jake arrived.
It was dark when Jake reached the residential street just off campus.