#RedTeam Attack

by S J Grey

  #RedTeam Attack

  Darknet Book 2

  SJ Grey

  This book is a work of fiction.

  While reference might be made to actual historical events or existing locations, the names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2020 by SJ Grey

  All Rights Reserved

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author.

  Manufactured in the United States of America

  Acelette Press

  V1.0

  #RedTeam Attack

  (Darknet #2)

  Staying alive has never been harder.

  Caleb’s leading a Red Team in a simulated cyber-attack on a minor government agency – a fantastic opportunity for him to rebuild his IT security business after serving three years for a crime he didn’t commit. But then he’s hit with a double-whammy: a blackmail accusation from a potential client, and a new member of the team with her own agenda.

  The absolute last thing Caleb wants is to go back inside, but his parole status is being threatened and his life is now on the line as well.

  He wants nothing more to do with recently arrived Andi. Her actions put his team—and his future—at risk, but when her world falls apart, he’s the only person who can help. He knows what it’s like to feel powerless, and it’s going to take all his skills to stay ahead of the blackmailer and untangle the mess Andi’s found herself in.

  Books in the Series

  To Catch a RAT (Darknet #1)

  #RedTeam Attack (Darknet #2)

  Exit Node (Darknet #3)

  Wetware Protocol (Darknet short story)

  Active Peers (Darknet short story)

  Author’s Note:

  This book is set in New Zealand, and follows British English spelling and usage

  Part I - Caleb

  Tuesday 2 April

  Chapter One

  “That’s not me, in the video. Someone has superimposed my head onto that body.” The woman let out a shuddering sigh, as though it took all her mental energy to speak the words. She stretched out her hands and stared at her fingers, before glancing up at Caleb. Her gaze skittered away again.

  “I really don’t think my husband is going to be happy about this.” Her voice was sharp, her vowels like cut glass.

  The video was frozen mid-frame on the giant monitor that sat on his desk. It was hard not to look at it—at the blonde beauty, being shagged from behind and apparently loving every minute of it.

  Caleb’s long-time friend, Emma, sent the woman—Nicole—here to see him. What did she want him to do? Give her marks out of ten for technique?

  He averted his gaze from the screen and focused on Nicole’s shaking hands and the tears shining in her eyes. “Do you want me to remove it from the internet?” That was as ridiculous an idea as finding a specific grain of sand in the middle of the Sahara Desert. “I don’t need to tell you that’s almost impossible.”

  “No.” She chewed on her lower lip. “I want to know who’s responsible.”

  “Have you talked to the police?”

  Nicole shrugged. “They weren’t interested. They quoted the Harmful Something-or-Other Act and said they could only prosecute if I laid a charge of serious emotional distress.”

  “The Harmful Digital Communications Act?”

  “Yes.” She sat up straight. “I mean, come on. How is this not emotionally distressing?”

  “This isn’t really my area,” said Caleb, “but most revenge porn is circulated by people known to the victim. An ex-boyfriend, maybe?”

  “No.” She shook her head, as though to underline the word. “I’ve been with Dimitri for ages. Four years. Prior to him, I was careful about who I dated. My father is quite well known, and it’s been drummed into me from an early age, not to do anything that might embarrass him.”

  Curious. Emma didn’t tell him that. “Who’s your father?”

  “Edmund Collier.”

  “Minister for Immigration?”

  “Yes.” She chewed her lip some more. The skin looked ragged. “He’s been in politics forever, and the papers believe he’s in the running for PM in the next party shuffle. The last thing he wants is this kind of media attention.” Her blue eyes turned glacial, and ice filled her words. “Mr. Rush, I don’t need to tell you what it’s like to have your private life splashed across the media. Especially when it’s all lies.”

  Yep, she had him there. He could write the book on that. “I’d like to help,” he said, “but I’m not sure how I can.”

  “Emma rates your skills highly.”

  Thanks, Em. “I need more to go on than a video posted to Pornhub.”

  “What do you need?”

  “Like I said, you probably know the person behind this. They may have hired someone to do the actual video manipulation, but this is spiteful. Someone has a grudge against you.”

  She pursed her lips but didn’t speak.

  Caleb imagined if his twin sister, Joss, was here, she’d be pointing her finger at him. Great work, Captain Obvious, she’d say.

  He wrenched his thoughts back. “I need you to talk me through the timeline. When were you made aware of the video, and how? Has there been any unusual activity on your social media accounts or in your email? Any blackmail threats?”

  Nicole glanced at her wristwatch. Like everything about her, it looked sleek and expensive. “I have a meeting to attend. Another client, panicking and wanting to withdraw their business. Did I tell you I run Golden Image, one of the most influential PR companies in Wellington? This has the potential to wreck my life.”

  “I’m sorry.” He meant it. He knew only too well how it felt, to have his future ripped away and his life smashed into a gazillion pieces so tiny they could never fit together again.

  “I’ll come back tomorrow, when I have more time.” Nicole stood and straightened her shoulders. She picked up the giant leather tote bag at her side, slipped the straps over her shoulder, and donned a pair of oversized shades. “I need you to find this man, Mr. Rush. I’ll pay whatever it takes, to make this go away.”

  If only it were that easy.

  He saw her out of his office and into the mild chaos of the main area. Two men were carrying boxes in, while another pushed a trolley laden with more cartons.

  Devin, Caleb’s assistant, was directing the delivery guys but broke off to speak to him. “The journalist from the Online Herald, Delilah, was here again. She says, if you don’t give her your side of the story, she’ll run it without your input, but either way, she’s going to file it next week.”

  Bloody journos. Caleb had been pestered to talk about his story, but he refused. The escape from prison and his subsequent parole were not fodder for the masses. Neither was the death of his stepfather or the murder of his sister.

  “Yeah, no. That’s not gonna happen.” With the faint scent of Nicole’s perfume colouring the air, Caleb headed back into his office.

  Did he want this piece of work? It was barely four months since he came out of prison, and every day was still a hard slog. His business closed when he was banged up, and he had to restart it from scratch. He’d been locked up for three long years, and the internet security trade was now filled with a dozen competitors, all hustling for work.

  He should embrace the opportunity for a new client—especially one like Nicole, who didn’t seem to have any issues with money.

  What would Joss do? Gods, but he m
issed his sister. Some days she was the only reason he got his ass out of bed. The need to find her killer burned in him, colouring his decisions and guiding his thoughts.

  If Joss were here, she’d call Emma. He could do that.

  Caleb tapped out a text message to Emma.

  Caleb: Hey. Can we talk? It’s about your friend that you referred to me.

  She replied quickly.

  Emma: Of course. Talk over coffee? Usual place, half an hour?

  One insidious side effect of being in jail was that Caleb now hated crowded places. Emma wanted to treat him to concert tickets for one of his favourite bands, Enmity, but he had to decline. Just the idea of standing in the mosh pit, a thousand sweaty bodies crammed around him, made him want to throw up. He never used to be like this. Emma seemed to understand though, and they were slowly rebuilding their friendship. She loved a quiet café around the corner from his new office, and that was where they usually met up in town.

  He sent her a message to confirm, and then put down his phone. What was he thinking about before that?

  The frozen image on his monitor called to him. He looked at it properly. What was he missing? He zoomed in and focused on Nicole’s face. The camera angle was such that she was entirely in focus. He zoomed in further. Whatever they filmed this with—filmed her—was good quality, better than your average smartphone. There was no blurring where the face met the throat. No soft focus, to obscure the join. If someone pasted her face onto this video, they must have stitched it at pixel level.

  Caleb wanted to slap himself—it was so basic. This wasn’t a still with Nicole’s face pasted onto another woman’s body; it was a genuine video clip. That was either Nicole or her identical twin sister. If this video was made using top-of-the line CGI techniques, they were still based around Nicole being in that position, for that length of time.

  He rewound the clip to the start and played it again, taking note of the details he missed the first time. The woman’s eyes were half-closed, her mouth partly open. The bright-red lipstick looked garish but was a good distraction from the way her lower lip was ragged, as though she chewed it a lot. The man fucking her was only visible from the chest down, as was the second man waiting—apparently—for his turn. The scene was well lit. There were no harsh shadows, and she was perfectly in focus, from the top of her head to her tits. The men were slightly fuzzy, but Caleb couldn’t tell if that was the focal length of the lens, or if they were blurred in the after-edit. He zoomed in on the two guys, one at a time, and looked for distinguishing marks. No tattoos, not much body hair, and no giant, easily recognisable birthmarks.

  “Don’t tell me. This is classed as research, right?” It was Mark Penney, Emma’s boyfriend and also Caleb’s work colleague, in the loosest sense of the term.

  Caleb was obligated to provide consultancy services for the shadowy organisation Mark worked for. The jury was out on whether or not Caleb liked the guy, but he did respect him. Mark was a serious hardass, and had put himself on the line in order to help Caleb. He treated Emma well, and that won him bonus points.

  None of that gave Mark the right to walk into Caleb’s office unannounced though.

  Caleb gave Mark the finger, while continuing to gaze at the image on the screen. “Something you wanted, Penney?”

  In reply, Mark dropped into the chair recently vacated by Nicole. He cocked his head to one side, a quizzical expression on his face. “Why are you watching porn in the office? And she looks familiar.” Mark leaned forward. “Holy shit. Isn’t that Nicole Golden?”

  Caleb clicked the freeze option, before looking back at Mark. “How do you know her?”

  “She knows Emma. We had drinks one time with her and her husband. Some finance guy. Where the hell did you get this?”

  “She thinks it’s a fake. She wants to pay me to find out who’s behind it.”

  “Thinks it’s fake?” Mark’s disbelief was clear. “Looks pretty real to me.”

  “Yeah, and that’s the problem.” Caleb shoved his chair back and stood, stretching his arms. He didn’t like sitting still for too long. It made him antsy. Another little gift from spending three years behind bars.

  “Is this a social call?” He challenged Mark again.

  “Cool your jets, Sparky. There’s something I need you to do.”

  And right there was another reason for Caleb to feel resentment toward Mark. The organisation Mark worked for was responsible for setting up this office and providing all the gear Caleb needed as well as regular paid work for SIA, the New Zealand Security Intelligence Agency. A major piece of work—a red team exercise—was just about to kick off for them, and Caleb was grateful, but he hated being obligated to people.

  SIA also embedded Devin in his role. Mark was a spy, therefore it stood to reason that Devin was too.

  The sooner Caleb could work freelance again, the better. “Fuckin’ spies,” he muttered, his thoughts escaping.

  Mark grinned and gave him two thumbs up. “Damn right. And how does it feel to be part of the A-team?”

  It was really difficult to piss Mark off, unless it was something to do with Emma. If someone hurt his girl, he was a different guy completely.

  “I thought you were leaving New Zealand this week, and heading back to the UK?” Caleb said.

  “Trying to get rid of me?” Mark dropped the smile. “I fly out tomorrow. Let’s talk business.”

  “You’ll need to be quick. I’m meeting Emma for coffee in fifteen minutes.”

  “I know.”

  Annoyance prickled down Caleb’s spine. “Monitoring my phone now?”

  Mark rolled his eyes. “Em told me. She asked if I wanted to join you.”

  Caleb blew out a frustrated breath. Emma kept telling him he didn’t need to be suspicious of everyone, but old habits died hard. “Go on, then.”

  “I want you to keep tabs on me, while I’m away. I think someone’s out to get me.”

  Chapter Two

  From any other man, it would have sounded like paranoia, but Caleb knew different. He sat up straight, the video ignored. “Does Emma know?”

  Mark twisted his mouth. “Hell no. She’d probably drop everything and fly out to find me. I won’t let her walk into danger. Again.”

  “I’m on parole, dude. I can’t even leave the city, without prior approval. Not sure how I can help.” Was that Caleb’s mantra for the day?

  Parole chafed. Especially since he was innocent. The prospect of another two years of weekly meetings to confirm his good behaviour made him itch under the skin, but it was better than being locked up.

  “You have to monitor my digital footprint,” said Mark, “and touch base with me at prearranged dates and times. If I miss a check-in, I need you to alert Jonathan at SIA. And you abso-fuckin’-lutely cannot tell Emma.”

  Caleb had the feeling he was only getting part of the story. “Why not just ask SIA to look out for you? Security Intelligence Agency—the clue’s in the name.”

  “It’s not that I don’t trust them”—Mark spoke slowly—“but trust, as you know, only goes so far. You have a vested interest in keeping me alive. I’m helping you identify Joss’s killer and doing everything I can to find the evidence to clear your name. I can’t guarantee Jonathan would be as motivated. Or, if not Jonathan, the Director he works for.”

  “So if you go missing, and I tell Jonathan, and nothing happens, what the fuck am I supposed to do?”

  “I’ve another contact at IG-6, and this guy I do trust. He’s got shit of his own to deal with right now, but he’ll help. He’ll be your eyes and ears on the ground, back in England.”

  “So why alert Jonathan at all?”

  Mark quirked his eyebrows but stayed silent.

  Caleb thought about what he just asked. “I get it. It’s a way to test if Jonathan does anything.”

  “Or if he gets blocked by his Director.”

  “Fuckin’ spies. You don’t trust your own grandmother.”

  “It’s how I stay
alive.” Mark gave him a patently false smile and checked his watch. “Let’s walk down and meet Em. We can talk about the exercise on the way.”

  It was the first time Caleb had taken part in a red team security exercise, and the concept was interesting. His Red Team would try to launch a cyber-attack on a government department office, to test how strong their security protocols were, while the Blue Team played the good guys, who tried to repel their attacks. Cyber games. And all perfectly legitimate.

  Caleb was used to white-hat hacking, a process of testing organisation’s cyber-security, but red teaming went a step further. Nothing was off limits. In a normal penetration test, he’d be given strict parameters to check, and that was all. Red teaming would allow him to be way more creative. More devious. He’d already started work under the radar.

  “Are the Red Team moving into your office today?” Mark asked.

  “Yeah. Devin’s getting the desks set up now. How many people will there be?”

  “Three, maybe four. You’ve plenty of room.”

  They needed clear separation of the Red and Blue Teams, and this was the best way to do it, but the idea of his office being taken over by a bunch of agents wasn’t appealing.

  Mark glanced at him. “You’re leading the Red Team. You know it makes sense to co-locate.”

  He was right, damn him. Caleb held back the smartass reply he felt brewing. His mind leapt ahead, thinking about the exercise. Would the extra people get in his way? “You know I’m using some outside resources on this, too, right?”

  There was a pause. “It’s your team,” said Mark, “so you get to call the shots, but what about clearance? If you sub-contract any part of this, and they discover a vulnerability, they might capitalise on it.”