by Ted Halstead
Eli Wade and Mark Rooter both stood as Bob Hansen entered the secure conference room. Hansen made sure the door had closed behind him and then grasped first Wade's and then Rooter's outstretched hand.
"Welcome to SpaceLink," Wade said. "I'm Eli Wade, and this is SpaceLink project manager Mark Rooter."
"Good to meet you both," Hansen said. "Before we get started, I've got some forms for you both to sign. I know you've both been through this routine before."
Wade and Rooter both nodded and barely glanced at the paperwork before signing in multiple places. They knew they were acknowledging receipt of classified information and their understanding of the penalties for divulging it.
"OK, first I've been told to make it clear I'm telling you everything we know so far," Hansen said.
Seeing their reaction, Hansen shook his head and added, "I wish it were more. But the White House has told me to give you everything we've got, which we normally wouldn't do during an active investigation. But I agree that nothing about this incident is normal."
Hansen put a sketch of a man's face on the table facing Wade and Rooter. "Have either of you seen this man before?"
Wade shook his head and turned to Rooter. "Mark?"
Rooter shook his head as well and asked, "Who is he?"
"The same day as the rocket's explosion, we told you to cut the launch center's connection to the fiberoptic cable linking it to your wider network. That's because we believe this man tapped into it," Hansen said.
"How could he do that?" Rooter asked incredulously.
"There was an old access tunnel that connected to the one with your cable just after it left the island with your launch center. He used explosives to get from one to the other," Hansen replied.
"Explosives? Didn't anyone notice that?" Wade asked.
"They did," Hansen replied with a nod. "A deputy was sent to investigate and caught the man in this sketch as he exited the tunnel. Before he could put him in custody, though, an accomplice choked him from behind and injected him with a powerful sedative."
"Did he survive?" Wade asked and then paused. "A stupid question. Of course, he did. Otherwise, you wouldn't have this sketch."
"No questions are stupid. I still have plenty myself," Hansen said.
Then he added, "You're right, of course. As soon as the deputy helped us make the sketch, I had it distributed to all ports in Florida and land border crossing points in Texas. Airports too, but I doubt the three of them will try to leave the country that way."
"Three? How do you know that?" Rooter asked.
"Sorry," Hansen replied. "The deputy heard someone else in the tunnel besides the man, and we've confirmed that there was only one exit, which the deputy said he had under observation until he was attacked. So, at least three people."
Rooter shook his head with disgust. "You said they accessed our cable right after it left the island?"
Hansen nodded.
Rooter turned to Wade. "Boss, that's how they were able to defeat our main safeguard. Our system was programmed to accept commands only if they were issued with close to zero lag. But the island with the launch center is so small that an upload from just across the bridge would have registered as valid."
Hansen nodded and asked, "Have you been able to isolate and examine the code used to cause the explosion?"
Rooter shrugged. "Yes, but I've never seen anything like it. Most of it is spare and even elegant. But I'm almost certain it was originally intended for another target. I can see where some of the software was removed and replaced with much more hastily written code. Not that it mattered for its effectiveness."
"Understood," Hansen replied quietly. "Do you have a copy of the code for me?"
Rooter nodded and passed Hansen a USB drive. "You'll want to make sure whatever you use to examine this isn't connected to a network of any kind."
Hansen smiled. "I'm not a tech guy. But even I am sure our people will be careful with software that could blow up a rocket. Do you know yet how it was done?"
"I think so," Rooter replied. "Pressure fluctuations during stage separation caused one of the fuel tanks to rupture and explode. Those fluctuations were programmed by someone who knew exactly how much pressure it would take to produce that result."
"And how would they know that?" Hansen asked.
Rooter shook his head with frustration. "The obvious answer is one of our employees, but we've checked, and I know you have too. We've looked into everyone working at SpaceLink, including contractors, and haven't found anything remotely suspicious."
Hansen nodded. "What about former employees?"
Rooter cocked his head, clearly thinking over the question. Then, he said slowly, "We haven't been in business that long, and there's a lot of competition to get a job with us because of the salaries and benefits we offer. The same is true for the contractors we have. I was going to say we haven't lost anyone, but that's not true."
Wade nodded. "Steve Naylor."
"Who was he?" Hansen asked.
"One of our senior engineers. He died in an auto accident less than two weeks ago," Wade replied. "The only employee to die since I founded the company," he added sadly.
Hansen nodded and said, "Please pass his details to me as soon as you can. Would you say he knew enough to help someone design this code?"
Rooter paled. "Steve? Oh, yes. And if he did, then maybe his death was no accident."
"I'd already planned to check on that," Hansen said. "I'll let you know whatever we find."
"Now, about those explosives. Have you had enough time to learn anything from them? Like, were they Chinese?" Wade asked.
Hansen shook his head. "I understand you have reason to think the Chinese government targeted your rocket. However, notice that the man in this sketch was certainly not Chinese. Neither were the explosives."
Wade let out an exasperated hiss. "So, where were the explosives from then?"
"They were stolen from a German company supplying their Federal Police. Some of those charges were used to open vaults during robberies in Germany and Belgium," Hansen replied.
"So, do you think this man might be German?" Wade asked.
Hansen shrugged. "He might be. From his appearance, he could be from any European country. The deputy spoke with him and thought his accent was East European. But he could have been faking the accent. The truth is, we don't know where he's from."
"Except, he's not Chinese," Wade said, shaking his head.
"That doesn't mean they're not behind it," Hansen replied. "The Chinese could have hired these people. In fact, that's what I'd expect if any operation might cause serious trouble with their trading relations."
"So, these were just mercenaries?" Wade asked.
Hansen shook his head. "I doubt it. Pulling off an operation like this would take a lot of resources. I'm guessing a national intelligence service, but that doesn't narrow it down. I can think of more than a dozen that could have done it and don't like us much."
"But why would any of those countries help the Chinese?" Wade asked.
Hansen looked at Wade thoughtfully. "That's a good question," he said. "There are other agencies with people able to give a better answer than I could. Offhand, I have no idea why any other country would take a risk like this for the Chinese."
Hansen was writing notes rapidly as he added, "I may not have the answer to that question, but at least I know the right people to ask."
Wade nodded. "We've already put safeguards in place at this launch center and the one at Vandenberg so that the last attack can't be repeated. Is there anything else we should do to improve security?"
"Let me ask you first, do you plan to go ahead with the launch of SpaceLink satellites using your Spaceship from Vandenberg?" Hansen asked.
Wade and Rooter both nodded. Wade said, "Now that we know it wasn't a technical fault on our side but instead an outside attack, why wouldn't we proceed?"
Hansen pursed his lips and shook his head. "And are these satellites also going to pro
vide Internet service to countries bordering China?"
Wade nodded emphatically. At the same time, Hansen noticed Rooter was looking at Wade with some concern.
"We are absolutely pressing forward. In fact, I’m moving up the launch schedule. There may not be any proof China was behind the attack on our rocket in Florida, but I can't think of anyone else with a motive. I'm going to make them sorry they did it," Wade said darkly.
"Has it occurred to you the Chinese may have realized that might be your reaction? And decided if it was, to deal with their problem more directly?" Hansen asked.
Wade looked surprised. Hansen was pleased to see that Rooter instead looked relieved.
"Boss, I'm glad Mr. Hansen here raised this because I was sure worried about it. We need to up your security in a major way," Rooter said.
Hansen nodded. "I've been cleared to offer you an FBI security detail as long as the threat from China persists. Once your new satellites are in place, I'd assume that there would no longer be a reason to target you, so it shouldn't be long."
Wade shook his head. "Out of the question. We've said nothing publicly about the threat from China. How would I explain being followed around by a squad of G-men?"
Hansen started to speak, but Wade lifted his hand to stop him. "Yes, I know. Your men are capable of protecting me without being too obvious. You don't know how many people I have following me around with cameras. Somehow I've become something of a celebrity. My house is practically a fortress because of all those so-called paparazzi. I'll stay there until this is over."
Hansen shrugged. "Of course, that's your call." Then he slid his card across the table and stood.
"If you change your mind, or if anything else comes to mind, call me anytime. I'll be in touch as soon as we learn anything further. Good luck with your launch," Hansen said.
Once Hansen had left, Rooter turned to Wade.
"Boss, we both know there's at least one time you're leaving the house soon, and so does everyone else in California," Rooter said.
Wade nodded. "The annual charity fundraiser. You're right. It's my charity, and I'm certainly not going to miss it. But now that I’ve moved up the schedule, it's going to be right after the launch."
"Yes, but if God forbid something goes wrong with that one, we both know you'll keep at it until our satellites are all around China," Rooter said.
Wade just shrugged. It was true.
"OK, so here's my idea. There's someone I know from my time in the Navy who just retired from the Seals. I’ve heard he's started a security consulting business right here in the DC area. I know he'll be discreet. Let me get him on this," Rooter said.
Wade was uncertain but then looked at Rooter and saw his anxiety level. Even if he didn't believe the Chinese would send an assassin after him, he didn't need his project manager worried about more than the launch. That was more than enough to keep Rooter busy.
"Fine," Wade said. "Meet with him before we head back to California. Make sure he understands I've already got a close protection detail, all faces the paparazzi and press are used to seeing around me. Whatever he'll do will be extra security, not a replacement for the men I already have. Also, that this job lasts only as long as the Chinese threat does. As Hansen said, that should be over as soon as we do the Vandenberg launch."
"Got it, boss," Rooter said.
"Now, the Spaceship that we just built in Florida. It passed its readiness tests yesterday, right?" Wade asked.
"Yes, sir. That one's slated to do a test of rapid munitions deployment, with a dummy load and monitoring instruments the guys at Defense are providing us," Rooter replied.
Wade nodded. "Good. How is the manufacture of our modified run of Gateways going? The ones that can be switched from low to high powered wireless signal production?"
"Almost done, boss. As you directed, the default setting is low power," Rooter replied.
"Excellent. Now, last question. How long before we can get another rocket ready to deploy more satellites once we get this Vandenberg launch behind us?" Wade asked.
"Well, sir, it shouldn't take more than a couple of extra days. As you ordered, we're running satellite production nonstop, so assembling and fitting the payload is all we still have to do," Rooter replied.
"Great. I'm just thinking through some contingencies. But I think that once this Vandenberg launch is a success, the Chinese will see there's nothing they can do, and we'll be finished with this," Wade said.
"Yes, sir," Rooter replied.
Like the boss says, Rooter thought, this should all be over soon.
And maybe if I tell myself that enough times, I'll actually believe it.
Bresca
Washington DC
SpaceLink project manager Mark Rooter stood as retired Seal Team Six Commander Dave Martins approached his table.
"Good to see you, Commander! I'm glad you could make it on such short notice!" Rooter said warmly.
Martins grasped Rooter's outstretched hand firmly and grinned as he shook his head.
"Wrong on all counts, Mark. First, I'm retired, so call me Dave. Second, anytime a billionaire's company is ready to pay for my meal at a Michelin-starred restaurant, I'm there. I just hope I'll be able to help you with your problem," Martins said.
Then Martins paused and looked around the private dining room. "You're off to a good start. This room tells me both that you're serious about security and that you're not worried about spending money to achieve it."
Rooter smiled. "Money's not my problem. A billionaire who won't listen to my advice is."
With occasional pauses as the food was served, Rooter explained the threat posed by the Chinese. Martins listened intently and waited to ask questions until Rooter had finished.
"So, even if your highly paid outside expert tells Wade he should have his bulletproof limo drive right into the building's underground garage on the night of his charity event, he won't do it?" Martins asked.
Rooter shook his head. "No. Wade says he's not going to do anything different. Says if he did it would 'let the terrorists win.' I had trouble even getting him to approve hiring outside help. You and anyone coming with you are going to have to stay out of sight. Especially on the day of the event."
Martins grunted. "That won't be a problem. I know the head of your current security detail. Delta Force before he retired. He'll have hired capable men to assist him in close quarters protection. But I'm sure he's never had to consider long-range assassination with a scoped rifle as a serious threat before."
Rooter looked startled. "Do you think that's possible?"
"Not only possible but nearly certain. I've been to downtown San Francisco many times, and I know where the charity event will be held. Several nearby buildings could serve as the base for a scoped rifle attack," Martins replied.
"How will you prevent it?" Rooter asked.
Martins shrugged. "If Wade is determined to make the same public entrance as in years past, I'll need two things. First, all the information you can get me on the tenants of the target buildings. In particular, whether any of the offices are unoccupied or recently rented. Second, I'll need you to rent office space for me and two others in the building hosting the event. Tell me which spaces are available, and I'll let you know the offices to rent."
"OK, I see where you're going with offices unoccupied or recently rented. Once you've got those identified, though, why not just post guards on each one?" Rooter asked.
Martins shook his head. "Those buildings will have hundreds of offices between them. I'm guessing at least a couple dozen unoccupied or recently rented, maybe more. Again, you won't need us at all if Wade will just use the event building's underground garage."
Rooter sighed. "Believe me, I've tried hard to convince him, but he won't budge. So, what will you and your men do to stop the attack?"
"Counter-sniper. We'll each take a building and try to spot the assassin before he fires," Martins replied.
Rooter sat quietly for a moment
. "That doesn't sound easy. I'm also going to put you in touch with Bob Hansen from FBI HQ. He's offered to help with security, but Wade refused to have his men involved. I think, though, that Hansen could help you coordinate with both the San Francisco FBI office and local law enforcement."
"Excellent," Martins said. "I was going to do the coordination piece anyway, but having someone from the DC level in the FBI who already knows what's going on will be a big help. I don't want anyone mistaking us for possible assassins."
Rooter wiped his mouth with his napkin and stood. "Great," he said. "I'll start getting together the information you need, and see you tomorrow in San Francisco."
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Near the Chinese-Indian Border
Sergeant Xu sat up in his hospital bed as Colonel Chang walked in, accompanied by an officer wearing a uniform Xu had never seen. His eyes widened as he saw what the officer was carrying.
To Xu's surprise, they went to Corporal Guan's bed first.
Chang nodded, and the officer propped the long case he was carrying against the small table next to the head of Guan's bed. Then he undid its latches and revealed its contents.
The rifle in the case gleamed in the bright overhead lights of the field hospital and was clearly brand new.
"I'd like to formally present you with this Barrett sniper rifle, captured by this Lieutenant and his men last night. For security reasons, there will be no introductions," Chang said.
"Thank you, sir," was all Guan could manage through his astonishment.
Then the two officers brought the other case to Xu's bed. Once it was open, Xu could see his looked quite different.
"Its owner was firing at us while we approached. Because of him, I lost one of my men," the Lieutenant growled.
Xu swallowed as he looked at a dark patch on the well-worn rifle's stock.
"It could use some cleaning," the Lieutenant said with grim satisfaction.
Xu realized the Lieutenant had to be from the "Night Tigers" special forces unit based at Sichuan. Its origins dated all the way back to World War II, before the Revolution.
Xu's opinion of Colonel Chang went up several more notches. He'd never heard of a Night Tigers deployment on the Indian border before. Xu was sure it had taken Chang real effort to get that approved.