The Devil's Ransom, page 22
He’d bought a ticket on the ferry to Korcula, and then had spent the night inside the ferry station, lounging on chairs like dozens of other patrons, only snapping awake whenever someone new entered the area. At six in the morning the ferry had boarded, and he’d walked aboard mixed in with every other person doing a day job on the island. He’d been convinced that they’d followed him even here, his eyes darting left and right looking for swarthy men—but he really had no idea who “they” were. The entire event was disconcerting, not the least because he had no allies to help him. He was being hunted by predators and had no idea why.
He took another pull of his beer, keeping a wary eye on the people around him, and then felt his phone vibrate with a call. He pulled it out of his pocket, didn’t recognize the number, and thought about just shunting it to voice mail. He didn’t.
“Hello?”
“This is Nikita. Where are you?”
Branko felt relief and trepidation at the same time. He said, “I’m on a ferry to Korcula. They attacked our safehouse. I barely made it out alive.”
“The box?”
“It’s safe. I didn’t have it there. It’s safe, I promise.”
“I need more than your word. Make no mistake, I’m here to protect you, but only because of what’s in that box. If it’s gone, I’ll kill you myself.”
“Nikita, it’s well hidden, but the next attack is in play. Andrei needs to know that. Pushka put it operational with Sphinx before I was attacked, and I can’t get in touch with him. I’m on the run and there will be no way for them to turn it off without me. No payment, no relief. And it’s a big one.”
“I don’t give a shit about any ransomware. Where are you going?”
“I told you. I have an apartment in Korcula. I’m going there. I needed to get out of Split because everyone is trying to kill me. I don’t know who they are, but they keep talking about a treasure. First in Zagreb, now here. I’ve lost control of my ransomware cell. Pushka is still there as far as I know. He won’t answer his phone, but he embedded the next attack.”
“This attack is happening now?”
“No. It’s on a timer. He talked to Sphinx—the guy who gave us the code. I never got a chance to confirm because someone was trying to kill me.”
“Honestly, I don’t care. I have my orders. I’m here for one thing: the treasure. When does your ferry dock?”
“Wait, what? You said treasure now. That box is full of diamonds or something?”
Nikita said, “Shut the fuck up and answer my question. When does the ferry dock?”
Branko smiled, knowing Nikita had just slipped up. He said, “Another hour or so. But that attack is going to trigger soon, and I have no way to turn it off.”
“Don’t worry about that. Get in the apartment and hunker down. I’ll give you contact information to break free of the men chasing you. And then you’ll take me to the box.”
“I don’t think you’re listening to me. This attack is going to make worldwide news. Andrei needs to know, because when it hits, it’s going to cause America to go nuts.”
“Not my problem. Get to the apartment and bed down. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Chapter 43
Gordon Dillard paced about behind the Auriga launch control crew like a nervous father waiting on a birth. As the NASA lead for the launch, he had some sway, but ultimately, he had no ability to alter anything the company was doing. Auriga had rented the space and paid for the launch. It was the first such liftoff the United States had ever done. A solely civilian crew headed to the International Space Station.
To be sure, the Russians had been doing such a thing for years, with various oligarchs paying to head to the space station as tourists, and other U.S. billionaires had launched people into space only to fall right back to earth, but the United States had never sanctioned a civilian flight to the space station—and even when the Russians did it, it was the Russian equivalent of NASA doing the launch. Not an entirely civilian company. Today was a first of firsts. While they’d be using NASA’s launch facilities, nobody from NASA was in charge. It was completely in the hands of the company, which was both good and bad. Good, in that NASA wouldn’t be blamed if something went wrong, but bad in that NASA couldn’t seem to duplicate what the private sector did. They were losing their luster as the preeminent space agency, becoming nothing more than a facilitator of the launches. It aggravated Gordon, not the least because NASA’s chosen successor was Boeing, and they’d had three failed launches in the time that Auriga had managed to not only test, but actually resupply the space station and send up astronauts.
He went to one of the screens, seeing the giant rocket stationed on launch complex 39 of the Kennedy Space Center. The same launchpad the Challenger used, NASA’s first attempt to put civilians in space.
Gordon remembered that day vividly, the disaster burned into his brain, but today wasn’t the same. Auriga’s rocket systems had traveled to the space station multiple times, all successfully. Today should be routine, even if the entire crew were a bunch of dilettantes paying their way into space. It amazed him that they thought money could buy them safety, as if the schoolteacher in 1986 would have lived if she had been rich enough.
It was a cloudless morning, with little wind. At 1107 the countdown began, and he held his breath, praying for a successful launch. The number hit zero and thousands of pounds of thrust blasted out of the vectors of the rocket. It slowly rose into the air, gaining speed as the arms holding it swung away. Within seconds it was hypersonic, traveling into space at five times the speed of sound.
The rocket reached the outer atmosphere, and the second stage broke free, just as it was supposed to do. The Auriga crew cheered, all sitting behind desktop computers—a far cry from the original launch control facilities of the Johnson Space Center. Gordon wasn’t as old as the Apollo series of launches, but he could still remember when the computers were custom made for space travel, not Windows machines with extra RAM. It was definitely a new world.
The second stage fell away, now on its return to earth as a reusable rocket, and the first stage with the capsule began flying into position for its first orbit around the earth. All as planned.
Unlike every single other NASA launch in the past, this one was completely executed by the ground teams. The men inside the capsule had no control over how or when they would dock with the space station—and truthfully they had no reason to. The rocket had docked with mundane supplies for the space station several times in the past. No human had been inside, and it had worked flawlessly. But Gordon had worked the Boeing launches when the only thing that had screwed up docking was that the computer on board had somehow decided it was twelve hours in front of the current time, and then had decided on drastic measures to realign itself where it should be twelve hours later.
Boeing had to abort, the launch a failure, something that Gordon was sure could have been fixed had there been a human on board with the ability to correct. He’d learned about Neil Armstrong and his extraordinary override flying to the surface of the moon, and knew if it had only been computers on that landing, it would have failed.
Sometime later, the flight lead said, “Starting first orbit. All systems go.”
Gordon knew the capsule would slingshot around the earth for two and a half days before attempting to dock on the space station, something that was part of the “experience package” the space tourists were paying for. After that, they’d spend five days on the International Space Station—probably aggravating the real astronauts on board—before returning to earth.
He looked at his watch, saw it was past noon, and decided to leave them to it to get some lunch.
He went over to the flight lead, congratulated him on the launch, then said, “Gravy from here, right?”
“Yeah. Hard part’s over. We’ll dock just like we’ve done a dozen times before.”
“Hey, just between us, you ever think about the waste of time it is to launch those civilians? I mean, a senator up for reelection, a billionaire, and another schoolteacher? What are they going to do when they get to the station besides get in the way?”
The flight lead laughed and said, “It makes great press, and because of it, great money. That’s why the owner is on board.”
Just then a flight engineer at the end of the room shouted, his hands in the air, staring at his screen. Like dominoes, one after another technician began shouting, all of them waving their hands as if it would stop the destruction.
Gordon looked at the flight lead’s computer and saw a laughing skull. He was pretty sure that wasn’t from the company.
In flight aboard Air Force One, President Hannister received a flash override message: The celebrated launch between private industry and NASA government systems had been hijacked. The computers were corrupted with ransomware and the ship was going to crash unless the systems were cleaned.
Meaning paying the ransom.
President Hannister read the message, then stood up, shaking in rage. He said, “Is it Russia? Did they do this because we’re not using their Soyuz spacecraft anymore? Tell me it wasn’t them, because if it is, we’re going to war.”
The man who brought the message said, “It’s not Russia. The intelligence community has already looked, and we know the group. They have ties to Russia, but they’re just criminals. No geopolitical stuff at all. They found an ability to penetrate Auriga and took it. We have about sixty hours before that spacecraft slams into the space station. It’s operating on its last instructions, and we can’t feed it any more unless the system gets cleaned.”
“Can’t the astronaut inside take over?”
“No. It’s all automated. He can’t do anything but ride at this point. He has the ability to emergency-abort the entire trip on board, but apparently that’s been corrupted as well. Auriga is in contact with the capsule over radio, and the lone astronaut on board is stating that the computer is refusing his commands, like HAL in 2001: A Space Odyssey.”
“Just great. Who the hell are these guys that did it? Do we know?”
“A group called Dark Star. They’ve been hacking companies for a couple of years, but it’s always been small-time attacks. They’ve never attacked a government system.”
Hannister looked at him and said, “Dark Star? Is that what you said?”
“Yes, sir. We have a dossier if you want to see it.”
“I don’t need it. Tell Alexander Palmer to come in.”
Palmer entered, rubbing his face from sleep and saying, “What’s the crisis of the day?”
Palmer saw the president’s expression and said, “What is it?”
“Get George Wolffe on the phone. I want Pike Logan operational right now.”
Chapter 44
I was all set to head up to the outdoor swimming pool for dinner and a beer, one more successful mission under my belt, when my phone dinged with the tone reserved for the Taskforce. I checked the message and saw a command to connect via our encrypted VPN.
Jennifer came out of the bathroom wearing a robe over a swimsuit, saying, “Do they have pool towels, or do we take our own?”
I showed her the phone and said, “I don’t think I’m going to the pool.”
We’d spent most of the night executing the mission as commanded, completing the search of the apartment and putting the fear of God in Rodavan. We’d let him go and then had exfilled the crisis site, returning to the Radisson Blu hotel on the outskirts of town just as dawn was arriving. I’d told everyone to get some rack time, then sent a detailed SITREP of the mission back to the Taskforce. It had hit their servers at midnight their time, but that was over twelve hours ago. It was just after one o’clock in DC now, and Wolffe would have read that thing as soon as he showed up to work, so while I hoped mightily, I didn’t think this had anything to do with the report.
This was something else.
I said, “Why don’t you head on up with the rest of the guys. I’ll take this and meet you when it’s over, but you’d better lay off the rum and Cokes just in case.”
She laughed and said, “No way. I’m not leaving until I see what the call is about. But the pool bar closes in two hours. Just sayin’.”
I turned on my laptop and started the intricate authentication dance for our Taskforce encryption, saying, “Well, if you’re staying, don’t get on camera. The last thing I need is Wolffe questioning me on why you’re running around in a bikini and a bathrobe.”
She grinned and I saw the link beginning to do its handshake, showing me our systems were up and running again. I said, “Do me a favor and let the team know what I said about the alcohol, in case this is some emergency.”
She nodded, and the screen cleared, showing me Blaine Alexander. I said, “Hey, sir. What’s up? Did you not get the SITREP?”
He said, “We did. Stand by for George Wolffe.”
Which was a little ominous. I was hoping I’d just forgotten to cross a t or dot an i in the situation report. Maybe get a question or two, then relax by the pool with the team.
Wolffe sat down behind the computer and said, “Read the SITREP. You guys are clean?”
“Yes, sir. No drama on exfil, and I think we sent the message POTUS wanted.”
“Well, that message clearly didn’t get through. Dark Star has hit again, only this time they’re attacking the Auriga space company.”
“So what’s that mean for us? I let Rodavan go, and Pushka, the guy who does the actual penetrations, is dead. Let them sort it out on their own. Is President Hannister really going to start using us in a game of Whac-A-Mole every time someone is hit with ransomware?”
“It’s a little bit worse than that. They didn’t penetrate corporate headquarters. They hit the launch systems for a spacecraft—after the thing had left earth.”
“You mean that civilian launch this afternoon? Well, I guess morning for you guys? It was on the television a couple of hours ago.”
“That’s the one. It’s going to be catastrophic if we can’t fix those computers, and the problem we have is that we just hit the very people who would be collecting the ransom. The ones who could fix it. In other words, there’s nobody to pay now, and we need to stop it the hard way.”
“Can’t you tell the Maverick inside the capsule to start doing some pilot shit? Abort the flight and come back home?”
“No. The geniuses at Auriga tied everything into their launch facility. Without those computers, the thing is just free-flying without any commands.”
“I find that hard to believe. Surely someone can do something.”
“Well, believe it. The spacecraft they’re using has been to the International Space Station a half dozen times, but fully half of those were unmanned—meaning they were controlled from the ground. They had backups to the backups, but every single one of those systems has been hit, just like all the Blaisdell Consulting connections. The astronaut on board had the ability to abort, but apparently that’s also been corrupted. They’re trying to rebuild the infrastructure as we speak, but it’s literally like trying to build an aircraft while it’s flying.”
“How’d they do it? I mean, how did this happen after we took out the cell?”
“We don’t know how they penetrated, because Auriga has a pretty robust protective infrastructure, but they managed to do it. Apparently on some sort of time-delay Trojan horse. I think Blaisdell Consulting was a test, and Dark Star invaded Auriga’s systems on a time delay, based on the launch. Auriga systems would have been on high alert the day of the launch, but not so much before. And then we destroyed the cell that did it before it initiated.”
“How much time do we have?”
“They’ll be orbiting two and a half days, apparently just sightseeing, then the capsule will attempt to execute its last commands and line up for docking, but that’s the last thing it knows. Without the ability to control it, it’s going to fly into the space station at Mach five or six, killing everyone on it, including the people in the capsule.”
“I’m not a rocket scientist, but can’t you move the space station? Let those guys in the capsule miss it and just go off into space?”
“Maybe. I don’t know, but that’s not the answer President Hannister wants to hear. It’s a little coldblooded, even for you.”
“Well, it’s the price you pay for space tourism. A little karmic justice if you ask me.”
Wolffe chuckled, then said, “I’d agree with most of the people on board, but one is just a teacher from Arkansas. The owner gave her a seat. She isn’t rich and certainly didn’t ask for this.”
That made me feel a little slimy. He was right. She didn’t deserve any of this. He asked, “Can you get to Rodavan again?”
“No. That guy is probably out of the country by now, and anyway, he doesn’t do the penetrations. Pushka did that. Pushka handled the keys for the ransomware encryption, and he’s dead.”
Then a thought occurred to me. “Hey, did you try the key we got from Pushka last night? The one that unlocked our computers?”
Wolffe sighed and said, “Yeah, we did. It didn’t work. It’s a new key, and without someone who knows how it was created, we’re dead in the water.”
I said, “Branko is the keymaster, and the leader of this whole thing. We have their last functioning computer here with us. If I get his ass behind the keyboard, he can remove the ransomware.”
“That’s more like it. Do you know where he is? We only have about two days to solve this. Maybe a little more, but that’s cutting it close. They’re making those orbits of the earth because they paid for the flight and want the full monty.”
“I don’t know where he is, but Creed can find him. Are we back up and operational?”
“Yes. All of our systems are now working. How will Creed know?”
