Treasonable Intent

by C Shaw Hilton

  After two hours they had next to nothing. Benning hadn’t even admitted to Chinese involvement. All the co-conspirators were referred to as “like minded colleagues acting independently for the public good.” He completely denied kidnapping Haller and when faced with the photograph of their meeting and the images taken in Castleford he simply described him as “a fellow traveller.” He refused to say who George was and where he had gone to with the laptop. He was more forthcoming about his sister but only to the point of trying to persuade them she was an innocent party in all of this. Other than that, his most frequent response to questions was “no comment”. Indeed throughout the whole process Benning retained an almost disinterested and glib attitude. It was as if he was perfectly happy to be in that position. As though it was exactly what he intended. That alone worried his interrogators more than anything else.

  In Exeter a pair of armed police officers stood guard at the door of the intensive care unit housing Fatima Ali. A lone female MI5 officer from Special Events kept vigil by her bedside and every few minutes a nurse or doctor would appear to check on her vital signs. All of them had been told it was 50-50 as to whether she would make it through the night. In contrast Kirsten Stamm was in a private room in another wing. Two armed officers guarded the door but inside a nurse and a team of two MI5 interrogation specialists were beginning their work as her painkillers began to wear off. Her shoulder was a mess but the bullet had passed through and left doctors a routine patch and mend piece of work. She was lying propped up on pillows with her arm in a sling and initially refusing to answer questions but the two officers knew it would only be a matter of time before she began talking. In her mind Kirsten had already reached the conclusion she would have to make a deal with the British. She would play hard to get but in the end she needed to survive, to be free and to keep employed.

  Two floors below, Major Wilkins was in a fresh uniform signing her voluntary discharge papers. The bullet to her leg had cut away a chunk of soft tissue from her calf. It left a gaping wound but with no significant nerve or circulatory damage. It hurt like hell and the initial shock and blood loss had made her faint after chasing Stamm. She was, however, not going to sit in hospital watching her country’s defences come under attack when she could still make a contribution. She had phoned the Brigadier after his video call to Whitehall and persuade him that she should be part of the team to go into the Cyber Security Centre. Better still she would be going by helicopter with Bob Christie and his remaining Dark Squadron soldiers. She knew that they would probably require back up on this one and had asked the Brigadier to deploy a second assault team from that squadron. They would be there, waiting for her in London.

  In Whitehall it was taking longer than expected to marshal the necessary experts to go into the National Cyber Security Centre. The Computer Emergency Response Teams were highly trained ICT specialists. The UK had only five teams in total, so the personnel were regarded as exceptionally valuable. One had been dispatched to GCHQ when it was damaged. Another two had been sent directly to the affected prison service systems. A fourth was busy in the internet service centre of one of the largest high street banks, where its network was paralysed after 3.22am. The fifth and final team had been in their main office in the Cyber Security Centre until the end of their shift at 11.00pm. They left one team member on night duty in room 311 and went home. It had taken until 2.30am to get the three of them back to the building. They then had to wait a further forty minutes until Fawzia and Bob were landed on the embankment with their assault team. The Director of the Centre was waiting for them along with the Metropolitan Police Commissioner and Dame Maude.

  It was the Director who spoke first. “It might not be in the middle of a military base but I’m afraid it is still a fortress.” Bob Christie looked at the concrete and glass structure. The only good news was that the area was not filled with civilians and that the evacuation after the fire alarm meant only a handful of essential personnel were inside. “How many left in the building?” he asked the Director.

  “Our estimate is seven or eight but it could be up to a dozen. Of that number, four will be guards armed with sub-machine guns. Each floor will be independently sealed. There are no communications in or out except through the national secure network but we know that is compromised. All the lower floor windows are shuttered and the upper ones are bullet proof triple glazed.”

  Fawzia asked the next question. “If we could signal someone on the upper floors, could they be in a position to over-ride the shutdown and open up the building?”

  The Director looked up at the highest windows. There was no sign of life. “Only the security team can override the system and there is a time lock of six hours from the lockdown command. We would have to wait another two hours and twenty minutes. We can signal our peaceful intentions and ask them not to resist but frankly I wouldn’t count on that as a tactical ploy. ”

  Dame Maude became assertive: “I’m sorry but waiting is not an option. We have just about contained the situation in the prisons, the loss of internet banking is disconcerting but for two hours in the middle of the night it can be managed…the next attacks will cause chaos. The loss of rail, road and electricity supplies between them, will bring the country to a standstill.”

  Bob had gone through the schematics of the building on the helicopter with Fawzia. He turned to the Police Commissioner. “How far back is the cordon?” The Commissioner was looking agitated. “It’s at 500 metres. Just to be clear, there are a lot of important and highly valued buildings in this neck of the woods. I’m expecting collateral damage to be kept to a minimum and well inside that cordon. I have the full support of the Home Secretary in that ambition.”

  Bob wasn’t in a position to argue. For obvious reasons he had already discounted using something like an attack helicopter to open up the place and realised that it was going to need something of a low key approach. “OK” he replied. Fawzia began her briefing of the CERT team and Bob went through his assault plan with his soldiers. At half past three, fully kitted up, they began the attack.

  It had to be a precision operation. The main glass doors and shutters were blown open with directed plastic explosive charges. As the smoke cleared it was obvious that the atrium and security area had been turned into a maelstrom of glass and debris by the blast. On the floor two security guards clutching HK machine pistols lay groaning and around one, a pool of blood was forming. CS gas and stun grenades were thrown in. Alarms blared and amber lights in the ceilings flashed. The assault troops rushed inside. One of the guards suddenly sat up and levelled his gun. There was a cacophony of fire and two of the assault team crashed backwards as bullets ploughed into their body armour. Behind them three more figures in jump suits had already fanned out and were firing their pistols at the guard with outstretched arms. A technician could be seen on the third floor behind the plate glass screens. She was on her feet, apparently staring into the smoke filled room in shock. The firing stopped.

  Fawzia could see that the security detail was down and being dragged out of the building. “Let’s go!” instructed Bob. He moved quickly forward and took cover behind one of the main steel structural columns as a second charge was placed on the metal security barrier. The Major and two other soldiers crouched behind her in a low formation after zig-zagging across the carpet of smashed glass. The suction pad clamped on to the smooth surface and the switch on the back of the detonator unit was pressed. “Fire, Fire” came the warning and a few seconds later the shockwave and blast heat.

  The technician could obviously see what was happening and appeared to dive back into one of the offices away from the glass atrium wall. Fawzia wondered fleetingly who it might be and what they would assume was happening. There was a white flash and the security screen collapsed in a heap. Suddenly, out of nowhere, another figure appeared from behind the bank of lifts dressed in the uniform of a naval lieutenant commander. He stooped to the floor where the prostrate figure of a third security guard lay sp
rawled under the metal casing that had formed the security arch. Reaching down the officer pulled a 9mm pistol from the limp hand of the unconscious figure. His face was covered in blood from a cut above his right eye. Fawzia could see the assault team swinging their carbines towards him. Despite the residual tear gas, she tore off her own mask and helmet. “Major Wilkins, JCW!” she shouted “Put your weapon down.” The officer hesitated. He looked at the array of firepower ranged against him.

  Bob took off his helmet and lowered his carbine “Please, don’t be foolish. We’re the good guys! Let’s all put our guns down!” he shouted. The remaining assault troops looked at him before lowering their weapons. The officers’ bloodied face was a mask of confusion. Slowly he looked to relax and stepped back lowering his pistol to his side. “What’s going on?” he hollered above the alarms.

  Fawzia answered him “It’s a long story but we need you to come out of the building to safety.” He dropped the pistol on the floor and was grabbed by two burly troopers who rushed him away out of the building towards an ambulance.

  The next challenge was the stairwell and lift access. Two thermal lance cutters were brought in and more explosive charges laid. It took a further twenty minutes to get to the third floor corridor.

  As Bob led his team towards the main CERT operations room, a figure staggered out of the door. It was suddenly clear that her feet were bound together loosely and her hands tied behind her back. She looked terrified. Bob pulled off his gas mask and lowered his weapon but his two colleagues continued to cover her. Fawzia came into the corridor with the CERT team. In an instant the technician seemed to relax. “Isabelle!” shouted the team leader; “thank god you are safe. Who did this to you?”

  She slumped to her knees. Bob went forward and cut the ties around her hands and feet. She was now sobbing almost hysterically in relief at the end of her ordeal. The CERT team went into the room and immediately began working on two of the computers. Fawzia knelt beside her and spoke gently; “What happened?”

  Between deep sobs the woman gradually became more focussed and clearer in her account. She had just started her night duty. The fire alarm. The lockdown procedure. Then the appearance of a man in her room. The shock and paralysis of being tasered and then the frustration of being bound and gagged for hours. Her alarm at watching him work on her computer and then he left, loosening her feet and removing her gag without a word. Just as she struggled to her feet and reached the corridor the attack began. She stumbled back in fear after seeing the two guards taken out in the assault. Then a long wait until she saw her CERT colleagues and knew she would be ok.” She stopped. Fawzia was repeating the same phrase at her. “Where did he go? Give me a description.” The technician blinked as if not understanding. “You must have seen him, he was dressed in a naval uniform…” She was cut off as Fawzia sprang up and turned to Bob. “Get on the radio, our saboteur is the navy lieutenant commander” she urged.

  The captain knew instantly that they had made a bad mistake. “Leave it to me” he replied and running to the stairs he began issuing instructions through his head microphone. From inside the room one of the CERT team suddenly shouted to Fawzia. “Major, you need to come and look at this!”

  In the ambulance bay at St Thomas’ Hospital the driver and assistant paramedic had pulled in and opened the back doors. For a second they hesitated at the scene before them. Slumped under a white sheet on the trolley was the inert body of a black clad trooper. The rest of the ambulance was empty. They rushed in to find a weak pulse and evidence of strangulation. Presumably the attacker had decided to jump out when the ambulance stopped before being able to finish off his escort. They looked around but there was no sign of the naval officer. He must have left when the vehicle paused at lights near Westminster Bridge. It wasn’t a blue light and siren emergency so they had stuck to the traffic laws. They rushed the unconscious soldier into the accident and emergency unit. It was a few minutes later they got the call from Bob Christie asking where the lieutenant commander was.

  Olsson had indeed left before the ambulance reached the hospital. His sudden attack caught his escort by surprise. His strangulation from behind was designed to kill the soldier but at the last second the ambulance had suddenly stopped. He dropped the inert body to the floor and opened the doors, jumping out and closing them just before it moved away. In the traffic he skipped to the safety of the opposite pavement and ran into an underpass which ran along the embankment. In a matter of seconds the wig, glasses and moustache were tossed aside. He then reversed the uniform so that it looked like a light grey sports jacket and turned the trousers inside out to convert them into a pair of tan slacks. He emerged onto the embankment pathway transformed and headed towards Vauxhall. He would keep walking until the he reached the designated rendezvous spot arranged with Carter. It was time to make his escape to Russia.

  Back at the National Cyber Security Centre Fawzia was pouring over the screen as two of the CERT team tried to restore the systems to the point before the attack led by Olsson. “What is happening?” she asked. The lead agent spoke as she typed on the keyboard. “It’s been hacked by someone who had access to the main security codes. That must be a senior officer from one of the intelligence services or a member of the National Security Council. Either way they have effectively placed a cyber-bomb in the system.”

  Fawzia could see the error messages scrolling up the screen and the unsuccessful attempts to reset the security firewall. “What kind of bomb?” she asked.

  The CERT agent wrinkled her nose as if a bad smell had appeared. “I think it is probably Russian. I gives us the option to close out the Chinese and to restore the national secure communications network but at a price. If we follow the codes we activate a cleaning worm. The only problem is that it will clean more than we want. It will corrupt the AI and damage the operational offensive system. Effectively it will disable Rose Garden and destroy two years of development.”

  Fawzia let out a low whistle. “Is there no back up elsewhere?” she said, more in hope than conviction.

  The agent snorted. “Absolutely none. The multiple sites backed each other up.”

  The Major continued. “You can defuse this bomb?” It was the other CERT agent who spoke. “Absolutely. Our only uncertainty is how long it will take. Without access to GCHQ it won’t be quick.” Fawzia gave him a hard look. He flinched and averted his eyes. Then in a low breath; “Anywhere between a day and a week to fix everything.”

  She gulped to herself. The words of Dame Maude rang in her ears. In a matter of hours the country would grind to a halt. She needed to report back and she needed another solution. Her phone rang. It was Bob. His voice was low key and apologetic. “Our navy officer has gone. He almost killed his escort and jumped out of the ambulance. I have teams out along the embankment supported by police. At this time of night our chances of getting him are less than 50-50.”

  Fawzia felt dejected. “Keep on it” she ordered, “this time of night he is probably on the move on foot. Sweep the whole area down to Brixton and between Battersea and London Bridge. Get the CCTV focussed on pedestrians.” She closed the call and immediately dialled the number of Brigadier Fielding to update him.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  The meeting with the Chinese ambassador did not go well. After a few brief pleasantries the Prime Minister had cut straight to the point and directly accused the People’s Liberation Army of attacking GCHQ. The ambassador categorically denied any involvement by China and laid the blame directly on “dissident elements within the British Security Services”. The PM responded by claiming she had irrefutable evidence that the PLA were hacking into and disrupting the British Secure Communications Network. She half expected him to deny it outright or claim total ignorance and leave to consult his superiors in Beijing.

  Instead she faced a polite but relentless stream of statements putting the blame back on the intelligence services. Yes there was an operation underway. Yes it did involve secure communications
. Yes it was jointly agreed between the PLA and MI6 on behalf of their respective governments. Yes it was a trial of software designed jointly between companies in the UK, USA and China. No it wasn’t intended to cause an attack on British infrastructure and no they had not sanctioned the activities of Benning, who appeared to have gone completely rogue. The ambassador then claimed that the UK had kidnapped a Swiss national from the TwoBitz scientific team.

  The PM floundered in the wake of the response. She asked for and was immediately granted full co-operation by the Chinese government provided she agreed that the UK would ensure that the Swiss national was freed to return to the scientific project. As the ambassador left he looked more pleased than upset.

  For her part the Prime Minister suddenly felt her astute political instinct rise to the fore. The name of Dr Haller had taken on an unexpected importance in that conversation and she began to wonder why. She called in Dame Maude and confirmed that Haller was being interviewed by Special Events in Manchester. She would require a full report and briefing on this man within the hour. The PM turned her attention in the meantime to the report from the National Cyber Security Centre written by Major Wilkins. It didn’t lift her spirits. Whatever his motivation, Benning had opened up UK cyber warfare systems to attack and now it looked like the Russians had decided to take advantage. She picked up her phone. There were several urgent calls to make, including one to the White House.