Treasonable Intent

by C Shaw Hilton

  In a small bed and breakfast in Trafford, George was sitting in the dining room drinking coffee. He had caught just a few hours sleep. The laptop was still in its bag and he had his phone, wallet and false passport. His briefing from Benning had been clear. He needed to stay close to him and keep the laptop safe. It was their bargaining chip if things went badly wrong. He was nervous though. The seizure of his boss after the Newsnight broadcast had been expected but taking him to be interrogated in central Manchester rather than in an MI5 safe house was not. It was not part of the plan. Benning had a tracker placed under his skin on his calf and had expected George to be following him to some remote location. Once there George was expected to call in the cell that had knocked out GCHQ and free him. It was audacious but he was told he would also have inside help. He had intended to use Haller and the contents of his laptop to disrupt and disorientate the MI5 security systems. Now George faced the prospect of a long wait because there was no way an inner city police headquarters could be taken down by such a small team. He would sit tight and await reinforcements. He picked up the phone and dialled Ali. It was time to bring him up to speed on what was happening and by now he should be well away from the havoc he had created in Cheltenham.

  Across the Atlantic Trent was catching up with the baseball on television. He had spent the day in one of the laboratories at the New England site, mostly trying to get some certainty from his scientific team that the disruption to the ballistic missile test was more than a one off event. Their hesitation was par for the course, but they had said enough for him not to be overly concerned. Even so, there was a lot of work to be done. He cursed Lauren for her intransigence about Haller but it was water under the bridge. She had called him from Washington DC an hour before. Her day on the hill, assisted by the success of the test, had apparently been productive. She rattled off the names of various senators and a couple of senior cabinet members close to the President. They seemed to be back on track. He was drawn back into the baseball by a home run and the roar of a packed crowd. Suddenly his phone rang. He glanced at the screen. It was Sidowski. Trent toyed with the idea of ignoring it but after a few seconds gave way to his curiosity. “And to what do I owe the pleasure of such a late evening call?” he asked.

  Sidowski sounded unusually anxious. “Trent, have you seen what is happening in the UK?”

  “Hold on a minute” he replied lazily. The remote was to hand and Trent flicked to the CNN channel. It was the business analysis of the days’ events on the New York Stock Exchange. He tried Fox. An item on the political situation in Venezuela. He flicked on the BBC World News. There was the British Prime Minister speaking from the steps of Number 10 Downing Street and talking of an unprecedented attack on the United Kingdom. “I’m just looking at the news now” he eventually responded.

  Sidowski lost patience. “That Benning guy has unleased some kind of catastrophic malware. It’s taking down one strategic cyber network after another. Tell me we have had no part in developing this? The National Security Adviser has to brief the President in half an hour.”

  Trent resented the tone. Sidowski knew perfectly well that the Hong Kong project involved Benning and that Esterhazy were a key part of it. “What do you think?” he replied with an air of arrogance and condescension.

  Sidowski came straight back at him: “Don’t think this is the time to be clever Trent. I have twenty agents within five minutes of your location and I can order them to haul your sorry arse down here to Washington if necessary.”

  Trent was well aware the NSA had tracked him to the White Mountains and didn’t doubt what Sidowski was saying. Naturally he had his own security around the facility and they would be more than equal to the task of defending it, but the last thing he or Lauren needed was a fire fight with federal officers. “Point made” he replied. “We worked with TwoBitz and the British outfit Lansing Research on developing some advanced technologies. That is the extent of our involvement. We are not and never have been part of any scheme to attack the UK.”

  The NSA man paused. It was a plausible line but it did not remove the link between Benning and Esterhazy. His next question was critical to deciding how this might be handled. “Is there anything about the role of Dr.Haller in all of this that might compromise the position of the United States and our special relationship with the UK?”

  Trent swallowed hard. Haller was the paradox at the heart of this. He embodied the inspirational opportunity and sheer innovative brilliance of the project but also the human weakness and self-interest that could make the worst of its technological achievements. “I’m afraid we cannot rely on Doctor Haller whilst he is outside our direct sphere of influence. The Chinese recognise that and want him handed over to them for that precise reason.”

  For once Sidowski fully agreed with Trent’s analysis. “The President will instinctively want to offer some support to the Brits. They have apparently managed to get Haller away from Benning. We could use this as an opportunity to get him to unpick the mess that has been created.”

  Trent saw where this was heading. “You want us to use the interface to get into and neutralise the malware in their cyber defence system? You’re suggesting they offer up Haller to support our team in this?”

  Sidowski had already been briefed on the position Lauren had secured with the administration. It guaranteed the patents and intellectual property rights of Esterhazy but put the interface at the disposal of the federal government. He responded to provide the assurance Trent would need if he was to convince her to authorise this action. “To be clear we are not proposing to hand over the interface but simply to use it, just as you did with the ballistic missile systems.”

  Trent became more business-like: “I’ll need Lauren’s approval. Even with that I need access to somewhere in the UK where Haller can be present along with the best UK expertise. We can’t do it at short notice unless they assist us. After all we don’t know or understand how their defensive system is structured nor how it has been compromised.”

  Sidowski was brief: “You sort your end and I will get the rest set up with the Brits. The President’s expectation is that we should be in a position to help sort the problem within a matter of hours.” Trent rolled his eyes. It was a politician’s statement. They needed it sorted quickly so that became the time scale. In reality they would need to do a lot of work just to understand the problem before they could solve it. They also assumed the British would fully co-operate. He was quite certain there would be a lot of reluctance to give away any of their technological secrets, even in the present desperate circumstances. “OK” he said and rang off. Immediately he called Lauren. The conversation wasn’t easy.

  “This isn’t some back door method of sneaking Haller back into our work?” she queried. Then there was a long argument over the impact on the Chinese government and finally a lengthy and somewhat terse discussion about the President, a man for whom she had little time and even less inclination to assist. In the end, after nearly forty minutes of debate, she gave her reluctant approval to a single use of the interface on the UK system. Despite the late hour Trent began to ring round and pull the scientific team together.

  Fawzia would have loved to be searching south London for the saboteur. The system damage had not enabled his image to be captured clearly on the security cameras but painstaking work gave confirmation he was the same build and height as Olsson and the technician had confirmed his distinctive voice. She kicked herself that she had not taken the time to check him out as he walked past but he was covered in blood and her mind was fixed on getting to the third floor. That was where the whole system could be accessed and the fight-back against the cyber-attack take place. And it was here she had to stay as the CERT team worked to defuse the various traps preventing them regaining control of the communications network. She had a large table in the adjacent room and covered it in system diagrams, charts and various notes in her own handwriting. Adjacent to it was a large touch screen monitor which had several di
fferent windows open, all feeding her live information.

  She still did not fully understand what Benning had intended, confused further by the fact parts of his plan had succeeded and others obviously had not. Her analysis still had gaps and she remained convinced that she was missing something vital. She went back to where the team were manoeuvring two large racks of file servers into position and connecting them into network ports on the wall. “More hardware?” she asked. It was a prompt for a progress update rather than a question.

  The CERT agent finished his last cable link before turning to reply. “Yes this will speed things up. They were due to go to the new facility in Manchester but we have intercepted them from the delivery warehouse in Milton Keynes.”

  Fawzia read the name on the casing. Lansing Research. It was the same company that ran the facility in Oxford. Nothing surprising there. But it was the other name next to it, on the aluminium cylinder that formed the bottom half of the unit, that made her stop in her tracks. Next to the symbol of a Swiss flag were the words: “Haller Bio-Molecular Sequencer.” She looked again to check the name before turning back to the agent. “This isn’t made by the Haller Institute is it?” she queried. The agent stopped calibrating the other machine which was now powered up. He looked back over his glasses at the cylinder. “No. It is made here by Lansing but the patent belongs to the Haller Institute. I guess as part of their joint work on this technology they wanted some recognition on the hardware.”

  The Major took in a deep breath “I have seen this before.”

  The agent looked at her quizzically. “Doubt it; that is cutting edge stuff. Unless it was part of the kit in one of the Rose Garden sites you inspected?”

  She stepped back and involuntarily felt the thin trace of scar tissue on her neck. “No I saw it in an operating theatre. It was being used as part of the surgical equipment for my final skin graft earlier this year.” The agent looked baffled but for Fawzia it was a moment of realisation. “Got it!” she exclaimed and without explanation turned, grabbed her phone and headed down the corridor to call Alicia Court. It was 5.15am.

  Ten minutes later the SMART motorway systems around London, Birmingham, and Manchester began to malfunction. In a random sequence, individual lane closures and restrictions appeared on the electronic overhead signs only to change every few minutes to something completely different. Within half an hour the motorways were gridlocked.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  The walk through the back streets, away from Vauxhall, had taken Olsson longer than he anticipated. Using all his training he avoided the obvious routes and locations to minimise the amount of CCTV coverage. Huddled against walls and alleyways he silently hid from other pedestrians and motor vehicles wherever possible. His rendezvous with Carter and Jenny Hsu was planned for 5am. At this rate he would not make it in time to meet them in Stansfield Road, Brixton. He became increasingly worried as the minutes passed. Approaching the Oval tube station he saw a solitary taxi on its rank. Impulsively he decided to grab it. Briskly he walked up to the window to attract the attention of the half asleep driver. A few taps on the glass and the rear door opened. He jumped in, stating the destination through the small perspex screen that separated him from the front cab. Without a word the driver pulled away from the kerb.

  London was already stirring and traffic flowed along the main roads in ever increasing numbers. As they reached Stockwell the progress of the cab slowed. Further ahead Olsson could see flashing blue lights.

  “Looks like an accident” muttered the Cab driver.

  Olsson suddenly began to worry. “Is there a way round?”

  The cabbie looked in his mirror. “Unfortunately not. We are just going to have to sit it out.”

  Olsson felt his heart sink and with each passing minute as the cab crawled slowly forward his anxiety grew. It took a full twenty minutes before they passed the scene of what appeared to be a small van on fire by the side of the road. Beyond, the traffic was still moving slowly. He thought about getting out and walking the final mile but at the point his patience ran out, the traffic seemed to move with greater pace. After a further ten minutes the cab turned into Stansfield Road. He could see the BMW parked on the right hand side. “Stop here please” he asked. The cab pulled up and the interior lights came on. “Eight pounds and twenty pence please” came the voice from the front.

  Olsson pulled out his wallet. He had last used it to get to London from Oxford. Unfortunately he hadn’t checked his cash. There was only a five pound note. He drew breath and went through his pockets but the reversible naval jacket and trousers contained no coins. The driver was beginning to look more intensely in the mirror. He checked the wallet again. ”I’m afraid I only have a card” he said bleakly. The driver snorted, almost in derision, and stuck a hand through the screen asking for the card.

  Olsson handed over his Visa card and within a few seconds the bill was paid through a contactless transaction. Within three seconds the use of the card was flagged at the National Crime Agency and a message sent through to the Metropolitan Police. Twenty seconds later a voice came through Bob Christie’s earpiece. “Olsson has just used a debit card in Brixton. We are moving the helicopter over to that location and relaying all the CCTV to our command centre.” Bob ordered his team and Police S.C.O.19 officers to deploy into Brixton. He then called Fawzia. “Major we have located Olsson.”

  She had been about to call Manchester to alert them to her discovery of a link to Haller. She hesitated. She was close enough to join the pursuit of Olsson within minutes but her mind had already grasped the importance of staying with the CERT team. She shouted down the phone “This one is down to you Bob. I need Olsson caught.”

  “Will do” the Captain replied. He was already scrambling inside a helicopter and had three other members of his team with him. On the ground the police were closing a secure ring around Brixton and teams of MI5 Counter Terrorism and Special Events officers were deploying from cars and mini vans around the railway station.

  Fawzia dialled Alicia Court’s mobile. The pieces of the jigsaw were beginning to fall into place. Unusually she heard just one ring and found herself speaking to the Head of MI5. “I think Benning has been playing us again” she began, “this disruption is the final twist in his plan to disguise his real intention.”

  Alicia Court exhaled slowly. She had gained little ground in her interview with the man. In fact she had learned more from Dr.Haller, who seemed to have spent a significant part of the previous twenty four hours drugged and unconscious. “Well I welcome any insight you may have” her tone was measured but there was a tired edge to her voice, “especially as I have just had instructions to move both Benning and his erstwhile hostage Dr Haller, whilst in the middle of their interrogation.”

  The Major went rigid. “Haller? You have Haller with you?” With everything else going on she had not been briefed fully on the arrival of the Swiss doctor at GMP headquarters.

  “Not for long” replied the Head of MI5, “the PM has apparently done some deal with our US cousins. They are going to use their most advanced system to break into the National Secure Network and get us back in control. They need Haller to oversee the operation at our end.”

  “Where are you taking him? Fawzia found herself truly alarmed at the speed events were moving and the gaps in communication that were continuing to dog their efforts. Now the Americans looked like they would wade into this tangled web of intrigue. From her experience, that would mean working to their agenda. Usually a heavy handed one.

  “We are bringing him down to you and the CERT team at the National Cyber Security Centre. We are loading both Haller and Benning into a helicopter in the next few minutes.” Alicia was clearly frustrated by the turn of events.

  “This what they planned” thought Fawzia. Their plan always intended them to end up here in London in the one centre that would be an operational part of Rose Garden. Olsson had almost spoilt that. By introducing the Russian malware into the system h
e had not only opened up a new threat but also compromised what Benning and Williams had intended. She had to think through what they would have done had the centre been intact. “I think I have been compromised” she confessed.

  The line went silent for a few moments then Alicia’s voice came through with remarkable clarity. “What the hell do you mean compromised?”

  Fawzia had still only half formed her own explanation, but she was instinctively certain it was right. Even now she struggled to express her fears. “I think that somehow they have planted something inside me that can infiltrate Rose Garden. I was operated on earlier this year with a final session of skin grafts using technology from the Haller Clinic in Switzerland. I just thought it was a final session of cosmetic work but now I cannot believe it is co-incidence. We have been misled by the idea they corrupted the tablet through the SSD card. Possibly they did attack the communications system that way, but all the time the real threat may have been me.”

  On the other end of the line Alicia was beginning to follow her train of thought but it just sounded too fantastic. “Who organised your treatment? Surely they would have had to be complicit in this sort of outlandish treason?”

  “I don’t know” Fawzia replied.” I was just told that it was a new programme as part of an arrangement between defence contractors and health expertise amongst our allies. To be honest I was just grateful for the chance to have further treatment so I didn’t question it. Maybe I was foolish.”

  The Head of MI5 suddenly felt a chill. “Have you informed anyone else about this? Have you told Brigadier Fielding?”

  The Major hesitated but the pause spoke volumes, “I haven’t. I just felt that as Head of JCW and of the Military Intelligence Corps he must have had oversight of a special programme of this kind. I’m not making an accusation but I felt it inappropriate to tell him.”