Cyber Attack

by Tim Washburn

  Natalie points to a door on the other side of the room. “Thanks, Nat. I promise not to slobber.”

  Natalie smiles. “And no farting, either.”

  “That, I can’t promise,” Hank says. “Anyplace to get a cold beer around here?”

  “Check the small fridge in my office. I think there’s a few cans in there.”

  “They let you drink on the job?” Hank asks.

  “We work some long hours. It’s not encouraged but it’s also not discouraged. So until they say no, I’ll have a beer or some wine when I’m working late.”

  “Want me to bring you and Paige a glass of wine?”

  Natalie looks at Paige. “Want some chardonnay?”

  Paige shakes her head. “If I drink a glass of wine, I’ll crash and burn.”

  “I’ll pass, too. Thanks for asking, though.”

  “Hey, it’s your wine. I was just going to be the delivery boy.”

  “And a cute one at that,” Natalie says, giving Hank a wink. She clucks her tongue three times and says, “Oh, think about the fun we could have had, Hank Goodnight.”

  Thinking it’s best to leave that alone for now, Hank waves and heads for Natalie’s office. Inside, he kicks off his boots, kills the light, and stretches out on the couch. It’s about a foot too short for Hank’s long frame, leaving his feet dangling off the edge. He stares at the moonlight slashing across the ceiling, wondering about Natalie. They’d done some fooling around, but nothing that involved shedding clothes. They were close, though, and it probably would have happened on that next date until Hank screwed that up. It’s been a long while since he’s had a relationship and he wonders if Natalie is currently attached.

  But just as soon as he thinks that, his thoughts drift from Natalie to Paige. Both women are extremely intelligent and both are easy on the eyes. Both are curious and both are strong willed. Paige seems a little more refined and Hank doesn’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. Although he’s a small-town boy from Ada, Oklahoma, Hank has seen a lot of the world yet he remains somewhat culturally stunted. He hates opera and can barely tolerate the symphony. But he loves college football and Jason Aldean. He sighs and rolls over to his side, trying to turn off the spigot of thoughts crowding into his brain.

  * * *

  Paige felt a little uncomfortable during that exchange between Natalie and Hank and she spends a moment contemplating why. She’s known Hank for all of one day. One extremely long day, yes, but all she knows about him is he has a grandmother he calls Nana and he’s from a small town in Oklahoma. Then her mind flashes on that incident in Manhattan. Maybe she knows more about him than she originally thought. Hank had been calm and collected and it’s obvious he has a strong moral foundation, evidenced by his actions in the looted restaurant. But then Paige wonders if he went too far. Was there another way that didn’t involve the killing of two people? Not that those two men didn’t deserve it for what they were doing to that young, innocent girl, but Hank made the conscious decision to be judge, jury, and executioner without, apparently, a second thought.

  “Earth to Paige,” Natalie says.

  Paige startles and looks at Natalie. “Sorry. I guess I drifted off to la-la land.”

  Natalie smiles. “Was Hank there?”

  Paige blushes. “What’s the story between you two?”

  “There’s not one. We went out a few times and that’s about it.”

  “Still interested?”

  “No, I’ve moved in another direction.”

  Paige doesn’t know what that means and she allows the conversation to die as the two return to dissecting the malware. Whoever created it knew what they were doing. It’s a sophisticated piece of software and as they drill down deeper, they’re beginning to find what the targets are. Hank is correct. Most of the payloads are designed to gain control of various industrial control systems. What’s stunning is that the software is able to infiltrate a large number of different control systems, meaning that whoever created it spent years adding to its capabilities.

  How the malware initially penetrated these various computer networks remains a mystery for now. It could have been an infected flash drive, a spear phishing campaign, an infected e-mail attachment, or a host of other methods the hackers use to gain access to a computer network. The answers will eventually come, but it will take a good amount of detective work to interview employees and to study the various companies’ past history of software changes, updates, or additions. It’s a long, tedious task that could drag on for months.

  Right now, Paige and Natalie aren’t concerned with how the malware arrived. They’re more interested in how to kill it while also searching for digital fingerprints that might tell them who is behind the attack.

  Natalie looks up from her computer. “You were right, Paige. I’ve found a self-destruct sequence buried in one of the payloads.”

  Paige leans back in her chair, thinking. After several moments, she says, “Why don’t we write a piece of software to target and trigger that specific payload?”

  Natalie contemplates that for a moment “Jesus, could it really be that simple?”

  “Why not?” Paige asks.

  In her excitement, Natalie leans forward and pecks Paige on the lips. “You’re brilliant.”

  Paige is momentarily taken aback. But now she thinks she knows what “another direction” means.

  CHAPTER 78

  Chicago

  Sometime later, Peyton wakes and sits up, momentarily confused about her surroundings. Then she remembers the horrors of a few hours ago and why they’re now sleeping at Allison’s house. But that wasn’t what stirred her from sleep. It was a strange sound that registered somewhere in her subconscious. And it wasn’t Eric’s snoring. She’s grown accustomed to that. No, it sounded like a cat scratching on a door and she knows Allison doesn’t have a cat. She’s allergic to them.

  Peyton slides out of the bed and feels her way toward the bedroom door in the darkness. There was no way in hell she was going to leave another candle burning unattended. She cracks the door open and sticks her head out, straining to hear. Maybe it’s a limb scraping against the side of the house. When you’re in a strange home, you don’t know what noises in the night to expect. Peyton knows that at her house the blower for the air conditioner had a slight rattle to it. Maybe Allison has a tree limb that brushes against the house when the wind blows.

  Peyton hears a different noise and this time there’s no mistaking it for a tree branch. Someone is rattling the knob on the front door.

  Peyton turns and says in an urgent whisper, “Eric, wake up. Someone’s trying to break into the house.” Peyton feels her way around the bed and shakes Eric. “Wake up.”

  “What?” Eric asks as he rolls onto his back.

  “Shhh, keep your voice down. Someone’s trying to break into the house.”

  “It’s probably a tree limb or something,” he whispers to placate his wife.

  “A tree limb is trying to open the front door?”

  “Fuck, is this day ever going to be over?” Eric mutters as he gingerly climbs out of bed. “Where’s the shotgun?” he whispers to Peyton.

  “You left it by the front door.”

  “That wasn’t very damn smart, was it? Flashlight?”

  “Hold out your hand,” Peyton whispers.

  “No, you keep it. I can’t handle the gun and the light at the same time.”

  “What do you want me to do?”

  “Click on the flashlight and light the way, but stay behind me. Once I have the shotgun, you take cover and turn off the light.”

  “What are you going to do?” Peyton whispers.

  “I guess I’m going to open the front door.”

  “And do what?”

  “Hell, I don’t know, Peyton. I work at a goddamn bank. I guess we’ll play it by ear.”

  “How are you going to see who’s at the door?”

  “When I shout ‘Now’ you hit them with the light.”
<
br />   “Okay,” Peyton whispers. She clicks on the flashlight and covers most of the lens with her hand.

  They exit the bedroom and creep down the hall as Allison opens the door to her bedroom. “What’s going on?” she whispers as she pulls on a robe.

  “Someone’s trying to break in,” Peyton whispers.

  Allison gasps. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes, I’m sure,” Peyton says.

  Allison falls in behind them. At the entrance to the living room Eric spots the shotgun leaning against the wall. He walks carefully across the hardwood floor, hoping there are no creaks to announce his presence. After he picks up the shotgun, Peyton kills the light. Eric can’t remember if he chambered a round or not. He feels around the trigger guard and finds the button that unlocks the chamber and slowly racks the slide. He feels around inside the chamber and finds a shell already seated. Slowly, he slides the chamber closed and steps over to the door. Holding the shotgun in his right hand, he reaches out his left, turns the lock, and flings open the door.

  “Now,” Eric shouts.

  Peyton clicks on the light as Eric raises the shotgun, his finger on the trigger. The beam lands on a man standing at the door, and Eric is a second away from pulling the trigger when Allison screams and the man shouts, “Wait! Don’t shoot!”

  Eric looks down the gun barrel at the man before him. “Jordan?”

  “It’s me. It’s me.” Jordan bends down and puts his hands on his knees, on the verge of hyperventilating.

  “What are you doing here?” Eric asks, lowering the gun. Allison brushes past and wraps an arm around her husband.

  “I guess I could ask the same thing,” Jordan says. He stands up straight and Allison leads him inside. “What happened to your house? I saw some embers still glowing,” Jordan says as he sags onto the sofa, still trembling.

  “Long story,” Peyton says, taking a seat in one of the side chairs. “We thought you were in Seattle.”

  “I was. There were five of us from Chicago out there and the company decided to charter a plane to fly us home. I had to walk all the way from the damn airport in the dark.”

  Allison takes a seat next to her husband. “Why didn’t you use your key to unlock the door?”

  “My keys are at the office.” Jordan looks at Eric. “I thought you were going to blow my head off.”

  “I almost did,” Eric says apologetically. “Now that you’re home, you can take over gun duties.”

  Jordan nods. “How long has the power been off here?”

  “Most of the day,” Allison says. “And Peyton thinks it might be off for a while.”

  Jordan looks at Peyton. “How long?”

  Peyton shrugs. “I don’t know. Weeks, maybe.”

  “How do you know this?” Jordan asks.

  “My sister called, but the call dropped. Basically all I heard was ‘get out.’”

  “Of the city?” Jordan asks.

  “That’s my interpretation. Was the power still on in Seattle?”

  “Yeah, it was. But flying in we saw a lot of darkness. I’d say most of the Midwest is without power.”

  “How did you land at O’Hare if it was dark?”

  “It was dicey. We didn’t have much choice. The plane was low on fuel. Luckily the pilots fly out of here all the time and they know the airport well. I’m sure they violated a page-long list of regulations, but it was either land or crash.” Jordan stands. “We can talk more in the morning. Right now, I’m wiped out.”

  Eric stands and Jordan takes the shotgun from him.

  “Were you going to pull the trigger?” Jordan asks.

  Eric thinks about it for a moment. “Yeah, I was.”

  CHAPTER 79

  Attica

  At the entrance to the prison infirmary, Captain Scott Butler calls his senior officers together. Luckily the generator is still running on this side of the prison, allowing them a chance to see what’s going on inside the hospital. From what they can tell there are at least fifteen inmates inside with four hostages, all located inside the main room on the hospital’s second floor. “I don’t want to get involved in a long standoff,” Butler says. “What are our options?”

  “We put snipers with thermal image scopes on top of the buildings on either side of the hospital,” Sergeant Hugo Vasquez says, “then kill the power.”

  “How are they going to tell the good guys from the bad, Hugo?” Butler asks.

  “Those FLIR scopes have excellent visual contrast, Captain. They should be able to tell the difference by the clothing the people are wearing.”

  “And if a prisoner happens to put on a lab coat or takes clothing from the hostages to put on?” Butler asks.

  “Are they that smart?” Vasquez asks.

  “The inmates may not be brain surgeons, but they’re cunning as hell. Someone will have thought of that.”

  “What about tear gas?” Lieutenant Fred Parker asks. “This is a prison. They’ll have tear gas out the wazoo.”

  Butler thinks about it a moment, then calls Officer Darnell over. “Does the prison have tear gas guns?”

  “Yes,” Darnell says. “And there are certain areas of the prison where tear gas can be deployed with the push of a button.”

  “I assume the hospital isn’t one of those locations?”

  “No, it’s not. That’s what the guns are for.”

  “Masks?”

  “Oh yeah. Plenty.”

  “Do you have access to the equipment?”

  “Sure do. We keep it in several places throughout the prison, just in case.”

  Butler turns to look at Vasquez. “Hugo, go with Darnell to grab some tear gas gear.”

  “On it, sir,” Vasquez says, falling in behind Darnell as she takes off down the corridor.

  While they wait for the tear gas, Butler begins formulating a plan. If he sends more than two squads inside it’ll get crowded in a hurry. But having never been exposed to tear gas, he wonders how effective it will be. He scans the crowd and calls over one of the state troopers who is milling about.

  “I’m Trooper Ellis Goodman, Captain,” the man says.

  “Scott Butler, Ellis. Nice to meet you. Have you ever been exposed to tear gas?”

  “I have, sir. Not a pleasant experience.”

  “Describe what it’s like.”

  “It’s bad, sir. It feels like your nose and eyes are on fire. It’ll make you cry like a baby and then the sneezing and coughing starts. And it’s hard to breathe. Something in the gas triggers the mucous membranes and your throat will start to swell. I’ve only been exposed in an outdoor environment and I assume effects would be much more concentrated in a confined area. You thinking about gassing the inmates holed up in the hospital?”

  “It’s an option. Did you feel incapacitated? Or could you still function?”

  “When you get gassed you can’t do shit, sir.”

  “Thank you, Ellis. Do you want to be part of the takedown team?”

  “Hell, yeah. I’ve trained with the trooper SWAT teams several times.”

  “Any other state troopers here who have done the same?”

  “Sure. Want me to organize a breach team?”

  “Yes, but limit the number of shotguns to two. We must keep the hostages alive.”

  “Yes, sir. How many men, you figure?”

  “Eight.”

  “That sounds about right. Get too many people in there and bad shit starts to happen.”

  Ellis pauses then says, “What do you want us to do about the inmates, sir?”

  Butler thinks back to his original orders. “If they’re incapacitated, cuff them. If someone tries to harm you or the hostages, take them out.”

  “Yes, sir. You might want to have some medical people on standby for the hostages.”

  “They’re already on the way. Put your team together and then we’ll finalize the plan.”

  “Roger, sir.”

  Ellis takes off to assemble his team and Captain Butler steps over t
o talk to Parker.

  “Freddy, think we should try to talk them out of there?”

  Parker shakes his head. “We’re back to the original problem. We don’t have anything to negotiate with. They aren’t going to get reduced sentences or time off for good behavior based on the things we’ve seen in here today. They’re fucked and they know it.”

  “What if we offer them their lives? That’s worth something, isn’t it?”

  “To me and you, yes. I’m not sure it means a hell of a lot to men who will most likely be behind bars for the rest of their lives.” Parker takes off his helmet and mops his brow with his sleeve. “Did you ever expect to see anything like this in here?”

  Butler sighs. “No. It’s hard to believe what one human can do to another. I know there are men inside this building who didn’t participate in the killing, but I don’t know how they’re going to weed those out from the rest of them.”

  Parker puts his helmet back on. “Not our problem, Scott. We’re here to secure the prison and then get the hell out. And it can’t come soon enough for me.” Parker glances at his watch. “Hell, I’m supposed to be at work in about three hours.”

  “Tell me about it. I have a full slate of patients scheduled.”

  “I’m glad you’re not going to be drilling on my teeth this morning.”

  Butler gives his friend a tired smile. “I think I should probably cancel the morning patients. A few will bitch and moan, but they’ll get over it. It’s better than drilling a hole in someone’s cheek.”

  Parker chuckles. “That wouldn’t feel real good. On a serious note, Scott, you might want to talk to the general about having some counselors available for these men.”

  “It’s already on my to-do list, Freddy. We’re all going to be having nightmares about this place.”

  Darnell and Vasquez return with the tear gas gear. Once the masks are divvied up, Butler goes over the plan a final time with Ellis Goodman and his fellow troopers, many of whom are busy tightening their bullet-resistant vests. Darnell loads two of the tear gas guns and passes one to Butler. The plan is for Darnell and Butler to fire the tear gas canisters through the door window that leads into the hospital. Goodman and his men will then enter the space and secure the area. Once that’s complete, National Guard troops, under the leadership of Lieutenant Parker, will recover the hostages and take them down the stairs to be treated by medical personnel while the inmates are cuffed and led out of the room.