The man stood and saluted from behind the desk, “Welcome back, Max.”
During Operation Nomis, Max insisted the military officers address her informally. She never was comfortable with the stodgy deputy director title and used it sparingly as a source of intimidation. It also put the uniforms at ease around her. “Thanks, Sergeant.” She returned his smile and then asked, “The prisoner?”
“Second door on the left. Major Stanton is with him now.”
Max turned and quickly headed down the corridor. As she opened the door, she observed Stanton standing in the corner of the room. She nodded in his direction maintaining her stern demeanor and then she glowered at the mole. Without delay, she opened her briefcase and retrieved a large stack of papers. She slapped the top three sheets of paper in a row in front of the prisoner. They were photocopies of ID badges.
Stanton was impressed. Nice touch, he thought, as he looked at the daunting stack of papers. But he knew this was her show and his role was to be an observer.
Max pointed her right index finger emphatically at the first photo. “This is you entering the control center in Birmingham, Alabama on the seventh of November, three days after a security breach was reported.” She used her left hand to brace herself as she leaned over the surface of the table and towered over the prisoner. Pushing her index finger onto the next photo on the table, she stated, “This is you entering the control center in Taylor, Texas on the ninth of January, again three days after a breach.” Moving her finger to the final photo, she maintained her directness. “This is one of your colleagues entering the control center in Folsom, California, on the tenth of March, coincidently, three days after a breach.” She then plumped down in her chair, startling the mole. As she gave him a moment to digest the photos, she prepared herself to record some notes on her tablet.
The mole stared eyelevel at Max and responded, “And your point is?”
He is not going to make it easy for you Max, Stanton thought as he smiled inwardly.
“We know you were a classmate of Simon Hall at Harvard, between the years of 1995 to 1997. We already have proof that Simon hacked each facility I mentioned causing the security breaches intentionally, so your department head at the National Cyber Security Division would assign someone to investigate.”
On the face of it, the mole was impressed that Deputy Director Ford had made the connection. But he also knew another classmate of his was her boss and the head of the SIA.
“What was your role?” Max probed in a raised voice.
“I refuse to answer your silly questions. I have rights; I want to speak to a lawyer,” the mole demanded.
“Wrong answer. In accordance with the National Defense Authorization Act, we have the right to hold you indefinitely in a military prison, if we suspect you’ve committed terrorist acts against the U.S…”
The mole attempted to interrupt.
Max shot her hand in the air to restrain his words and then completed her statement. “…even if you are an American citizen.”
The mole sank into his chair. His expression changed ever so slightly displaying some concern. “I was to enter each facility, identify the program that contained the failsafe code and send a snapshot to the cloud…”
Max cut him off. “The cloud you set up in the encampment when you established the VPN?”
“Yes. I executed a program that downloaded Simon’s backdoor code. It was designed to attach itself to the facility’s operating code.” He looked down and fidgeted for the first time. Making no eye contact, he muttered, “When I was finished, I reported to the director that it was just a blip in the system and everything checked out.”
“Why were you always sent in three days after the breach?”
“Typical protocol. The DOE received a call the day after the breach. I assume because they tried to resolve it themselves. Then the DOE called Homeland Security and they sent the request to us. It took us a day to get out there. No big mystery.”
Max was not a hundred percent sure. “How could you or Simon be assured that the local techie couldn’t resolve the issue in-house?”
“Typically, a hacker would weaken the Internet protocol, the IP, creating a distributed denial-of-service, or D-Dos to disrupt the website and to establish the means to disrupt the system at a future date. It would leave the facility vulnerable to an attack.”
“So why couldn’t the techie identify the D-Dos attack? It’s pretty standard hacking code.”
The mole, seemingly impressed with Max’s Internet acumen, bolstered, “There’s nothing standard about Simon’s code. I’ve never seen anything like it. The local techie would never be able to detect it and naturally would be forced to call us.”
“Why didn’t Simon hack the system and place the code there himself?”
“The security’s tight and he needed more time to modify the failsafe code. It’s different for each facility. Later, he would use the backdoor and replace the code without raising any red flags.”
“Why the failsafe code?”
The mole casually added, “The failsafe code is designed to reallocate power from a healthy grid to one that is experiencing a power outage. It happens at warp speed and the power is restored immediately. Without that capability you’d have a blackout.”
“What exactly was he modifying?” Max asked.
“The code! He would trigger an override of the failsafe code on a programmed date,” he paused, “causing the entire grid to shut down.”
“What date?”
Max unnerved him with her aggressive tone. “I don’t know! I never saw the modified code!”
“Why are there months between breaches?”
“As I said, he needed more time; each facility’s code was different. And he didn’t want to raise suspicion.”
“You were captured on the thirty-first of January, so your colleague had to go to Folsom in your place. How many of Simon’s moles are working at the National Cyber Security Division?”
“Only me!”
“How can you be sure?”
The mole pointed to the picture with the photo of his colleague. “I’m positive this guy knows nothing. How long was he at the facility testing the system?”
Max was surprised at the question, although she sensed he did not expect a response.
“I was there for less than an hour. It would usually take me that long to locate the failsafe program. Each facility had a different program name. Basically, I was in and out as instructed.”
Max had learned from the directors at each facility that the mole was accurate about his timing. She also knew that the techie sent to Folsom was there for over four hours. She concluded that Simon had to have been hacking Folsom from outside the facility, keeping the system down for close to an hour and piggybacking on the techie’s time. Thus far, the mole seemed to be forthcoming.
“How could you be sure you’d be given the assignment when the security breach was reported?
“I knew the dates Simon would hack. I passed along my other assignments to my colleagues to ensure I’d be available on the key dates.”
“Which other control centers are to be hacked?
“I was assigned only two other centers, one in Minnesota and one in Indiana.”
“You mean at Carmel and St. Paul.”
“Yes, they run parallel, operating the same grid, but their failsafe codes are different.”
“When is Simon scheduled to hack the system to cause the next security breach?”
“It’s scheduled for May ninth in St. Paul.
“There’s one other grid you didn’t mention,” she challenged.
“That’s all I was assigned to do!”
Max remained silent. She sensed that he was about to come clean.
Stanton wondered why she did not push harder as he thought, its perfect timing. You have him on the defensive.
“Simon…” the mole began to say.
“Simon what?” she pressed.
“He planned on handling the last one himself.”
“Which one?” Max sounded gruffer with each question.
The mole shifted in his chair with each answer.
Stanton tightened his jaw, resisting his urge to be part of the interrogation.
“Mississauga!”
“Beautiful! That puts him over the border, in a country that won’t extradite for capital crimes,” Stanton volunteered without invitation.
Max glared at Stanton for an instant, then picked up where she had left off. “So that will leave you here to take the rap.” She frowned. “When is he scheduled to hack the system?”
“July fifth.”
“Not the fourth?” Which seemed logical in her mind.
“No. The fifth.”
“Are there any other grids? Any others Simon has talked about?”
“None! Just the five.”
Based on the grids that she discovered in the encampment, she was confident he had told the truth. Nevertheless, there were still a few questions that plagued her. “How did you pass security with the code? The procedure at all facilities is to turn over all electronic equipment, briefcases, et cetera. You’re only allowed to enter basically with your knowledge.” Max noticed Stanton was also curious for an answer.
After a slight hesitation, the mole revealed, “My wristwatch.”
“Your watch?”
“The watch contains a Quick Response, or QR code, a mosaic square that functions similar to a bar code. I used the reader on the touchpad to scan the code. Simon programmed the QR code to first embed the backdoor code into the systems operating program, and then to access the cloud. I would locate the failsafe code within the operating system and upload a copy of the code to the cloud,” the mole stated matter-of-factly.
Both Stanton and Max were aware the touchpad was multi-functional. Not only was it used for fingerprint security access, it also functioned as a QR reader to scan the QR code.
“Why did you need the watch? You said you downloaded the backdoor code from the cloud.”
“I lied.” He smirked. “I only had access to upload, not download.”
“Where’s the watch?”
“I assume he has it.” The mole glanced toward Stanton and shrugged his shoulders.
“Major, would you please retrieve this man’s personal belongings?”
Stanton did not want to leave the room at that point. “Let me call the sergeant?”
Max remained silent while he placed the call and the mole stared at the photos.
“He’ll bring them in a moment,” Stanton announced.
While they waited, there were a few more questions Max wanted to ask. They were not directly pertinent to the case, but she thought the answers could shed further light. “Why did you return to the encampment after Taylor?”
“Simon only gave me one QR code at a time. He changed the backdoor code for each facility. I had just received the one for Folsom when I was captured. That’s the one in the watch.”
“Why did you go along with Simon’s plan in the first place?”
The mole seemed the most hesitant to answer that specific question. But after pondering and reasoning he had nothing to lose, he unleashed a response. “While attending Harvard, Simon caught me changing grades for students in the database in exchange for tuition money. He agreed to say nothing, but promised one day he’d call in the favor. Years later, to my misfortune, I was contacted by Simon; he reminded me of the outstanding IOU.”
Max thought back to Noble’s tales of La Fratellanza and how Simon had used similar ploys in the past. Remarkably, it was how he engaged the U.S. Secretary of the Treasury. Simon ultimately landed a position in the Department of Treasury commissioned to design the TARP system. It provided Simon the perfect opportunity to misappropriate billions of dollars that he manipulated for his cause.
“And then what?” she persisted.
“He soured the pot.”
“What does that mean?”
“He made an offer I couldn’t refuse. He found out somehow that my hacking days weren’t over and that I was siphoning funds from some unsavory characters. Let’s just say I’d rather wrestle with you guys than end up in a meat grinder. Anyway, he said he was going to get me a job with the Department of Homeland Security in their National Cyber Security Division, and I was to sit tight until he got back in touch with me. Shortly after settling into my new assignment—Simon called in the IOU. The rest you know,” the mole responded glumly.
There was a knock at the door.
Stanton answered and retrieved the bag handed to him. He walked over to the table, turned the bag upside down, and emptied its contents.
The mole attempted to reach for the watch, as Max held up her hand to stop him.
“Tell me where the code is stored.”
“It’s under the sliding panel on the back of the watch face.”
Max turned the watch over and slid open the panel. Displayed inside was a mosaic square. “Ingenious,” she said as she handed the watch to Stanton.
While Stanton perused the evidence, Max stared at the mole. She envisioned him out of the fatigues he was wearing and in place, black pants and white shirt with a black pencil tie. Definitely, a nerd, she thought, this is not your average terrorist. He is telling all he knows.
Stanton looked up from the watch and asked, “Deputy Director Ford, I’d like to ask a question.”
“Certainly, major.” At that point, Max had extracted all she could from the mole. Unquestionably, the information validated their concerns.
“From my earlier interrogation, you denied knowing the other recruits and their assignments. Do you hold to your statement?”
“Yes, except for the other techies. We were cordoned off from the others. Each day the same recruit would escort us back and forth from our dormitory to the command center. He would remind us that our work was highly classified and unknown to the others. So we were forced to take our meals in the dormitory and not in the mess hall and we had a separate courtyard for recreational activities.”
“So you never heard the others talking?”
The mole took a moment to compose his thoughts. Then he admitted, “On a few occasions we’d overhear conversations as we passed by a group. They’d talk about how they’d fight to keep their country safe. I thought it an odd statement—they were all Americans.”
Max turned to Stanton. They exchanged looks to acknowledge they had enough information.
“Please have the prisoner returned to his cell,” Max ordered. She quickly returned her stack of papers to her briefcase and left the room. At the end of the corridor, she encountered the sergeant and inquired, “I need to use one of the offices for about an hour.”
“Sure thing, Max. Follow me.”