Cyberstrike, James Barrington [short story to read .TXT] 📗

PowerPoint slides that explained what was known about the attempted intrusions on both sides of the Atlantic Ocean. Everything he said and every image he showed was eminently comprehensible to Inskip and Mitchell and meant the square root of sod all to Barbara Simpson, and when he finally stopped talking she pointed this out to him.

‘Geekery upon geekery,’ she announced. ‘And I suppose this is where you tell me about the shitty little job you’ve got lined up for me to do.’

‘Perspicacious as ever,’ Boston replied. ‘Right, the purpose of this briefing has mainly been to bring Ian and Tim up to speed on the situation so that they know what we’re up against and have a good idea of what to look for in their jobs. And what to do about any incidents or attempted intrusions that they encounter. They’re also in the loop to back you up, Barbara, if you need specialist advice later on.’ Boston glanced at Inskip and Mitchell and nodded. ‘Unless either of you have any questions, that’s about it as far as you’re concerned.’

‘I’ve got nothing,’ Inskip said.

Boston nodded briskly. ‘Okay. You both know where to reach me if anything crops up, and I’ll be Barbara’s conduit to you if necessary. Keep me in the loop about anything that you think could be relevant. Now, Barbara’s tasking is classified and on a need-to-know basis, so I need to brief her in private.’

Inskip and Mitchell gathered their notes and mobile phones and other stuff together, said their goodbyes and left the room.

‘Now you’ve really got me worried,’ Simpson said. ‘Is this where you issue me with a packet of suicide pills and a silenced revolver and send me out hacker hunting?’

‘Not exactly. We don’t do suicide pills and you can’t silence a revolver, no matter what you may see on television or read in bad novels. But I do want you to go hacker hunting, or at least terrorist hunting, because blending into the kind of environment where we think they’re hiding is something I believe you would do well. We think these cyberattacks are building up to something that could be catastrophic in its effects and could affect us as well as the Americans.’

‘But surely the FBI—’

Boston interrupted her. ‘Make no mistake,’ he said, ‘I have the greatest possible respect for the CIA and the FBI and American law enforcement generally, but they have their own problems with potential sleepers, and I don’t mean people too lazy to get out of bed. What they need and I want is somebody on the ground over there able to watch, listen and report. And that, really, is more or less what your CV says you do.’

‘Where? Where exactly are you sending me?’

‘Near your old hunting grounds on the other side of the Atlantic, but a long way further north.’

‘Let me take a wild stab in the dark here, based upon what we’ve been talking about for the last hour. Washington D.C., maybe? Because perhaps you do think there’s a link between these hackers and home-grown suicide bombers?’

‘You’re right about the location,’ Boston agreed, ‘though we have no definite intelligence to suggest a link. But it occurred to me that the people who are mounting these attacks are clearly aiming at causing destruction or at least disruption, just like a terrorist wearing a suicide vest, so at least they have the same kind of mindset. So you’re right: it wouldn’t surprise me if they were connected in some way.’

‘So what do you want me to do in the land of the free?’

‘In fact, it’s not so much me as they. While you were down in Colombia you were working for the National Police, but ultimately you were working on behalf of your favourite organisation, the DEA, which was coordinating operations between the two countries and, at least by implication, for the American government. What you did has been noted and been commented on at the highest level, and that’s not me using the usual bullshit to try to pebbledash your ego or boost your career. You really did make a difference, and your services have been officially requested again by the Americans. And as I said, I think this tasking is tailor-made for you. You have a kind of sixth sense for spotting people or things that are in the wrong place at the wrong time, and that’s what we need from you again.’

Barbara Simpson looked anything but flattered.

‘I say again, I know nothing about cyber. Whatever the Yanks think, am I really the right person for this job? Whatever it is.’

‘Down in Colombia, according to reports I’ve read, one of the biggest challenges you faced was trying to decide which of the police officers and other officials you were working with wasn’t also working for one of the cartels, and the problem Stateside is similar but different. As I said, the Americans are really concerned about the number of sleepers there might be in law enforcement over there, people who appear to be loyal Americans but who are actually nothing of the sort, people who’ve been radicalised.

‘People like Nidal Hasan, that guy at Fort Hood just over a decade ago. American born and bred, he reached the rank of major in the US Army and then flipped and killed thirteen people because he’d basically self-radicalised. He’d worked out that the best way to save his mother’s soul – she’d committed the appalling sin of allowing alcohol to be sold in her corner shop, which in his twisted interpretation of the Koran meant she was destined to burn in hell for all eternity – was to slaughter as many unarmed American soldiers as he could.’

‘He was a psychiatrist,’ Simpson pointed out, ‘which means he was halfway loony already, in my opinion, like most shrinks.’

‘Maybe. He certainly wasn’t completely sane. Anyway, the problem they have in DC is that they don’t really know who to trust, so they need somebody like you, untainted and preferably not an American