“Dieter.” A call from one of his “minionen,” as they’d chosen to call themselves, pulled his attention away from the IP database he was updating. Greta, the youngest of the three, and notable for her lack of piercings and/or tattoos, reported, “It’s the Russian Moskito virus again.”
“Really.” It wasn’t a question so much as an expression of his amazement. “That didn’t take long.” Most viruses got by with a string of letters and numbers that described when it had been detected, its type, etc. Ones that appeared repeatedly were usually given code names. Dieter’s team had chosen insects as their theme.
The Moskito virus was relatively new, discovered just over a week ago. It was subtle, and didn’t appear to do anything, but slipped in disguised as a regular transaction. Once inside, it buried itself in the system and did nothing, as far as anyone could tell. The team had discovered it because the transaction information was all generated by Dieter’s team, so the spurious input was flagged immediately.
Knowing what to look for, cyber center analysts had discovered the virus in six other real-world computer systems. Since it apparently did nothing, they had not removed it yet, but that’s when it had been named.
The first intrusion had been on the team’s previous false site, which mimicked a news operation. It was still running, with the virus inside, but since it was infected, it could not be considered safe, and a new fake website, a petroleum company named “Anders Oil,” had been brought online. It had been live less than twenty-four hours before also being infected.
“Should I purge it?” she asked.
“Let me report first,” he replied. Johann was still his boss, although he’d also been promoted, thanks to Hoffmann’s success.
“That’s very interesting,” Klemmer answered when he heard the news. “I’ve ordered Hans’s team to work on Moskito exclusively until we understand its purpose. We’ve found it on another eight websites.”
“All of which were chosen to be attacked,” stated Hoffmann confidently. “They have to create data that will mimic each site’s actual traffic. Has anyone discerned a pattern yet?”
“No, but the information’s moving up the chain quickly. The BND is sharing the data with counterintelligence, and we’re contacting other countries to see if they’ve seen similar intrusions.”
“And if they have?” Hoffmann asked.
“Then it is an even bigger problem — or potential problem,” Klemmer corrected himself. “It has to be a state actor. Criminal organizations don’t produce code this sophisticated, and with no purpose? It almost screams long-range planning.”
“So, I should coordinate with Hans’s team?” Hoffmann asked.
“Yes. They’re the best at forensic work. You work at creating sites that might attract these fieslingen. We’re not even sure we’ve located all of the viruses on the first system that was infiltrated. It turns out the thing breaks itself up into several pieces before deleting the original copy. We have made one breakthrough, though.” Klemmer paused dramatically.
“What?” Hoffmann demanded. “Did they find out what it’s supposed to do?”
“No, not yet,” his boss explained. “But it turns out that it does interact with the host system in one place.” He smiled. “It’s connected to the real-time clock.”
“A timer,” Hoffmann realized.
“Most likely. We won’t know the date until Hans’s team has done more work, but until they do, I’m supposed to brief the interior minister twice a day.”
It wasn’t a full, formal meeting of the National Security Council, but it sure looked like it. The NSC’s job was to give the president recommendations and options. In this case, the question put to them had been “How can we convince the Russians to abandon their plan, whatever it is?” which inevitably led to another question: “What do we do about the Dragon complex?”
After a long day and equally long night, Bill Hyland had presented the council’s recommendations to the president early in the morning. Hardy had cleared his schedule, and following conversations with Lloyd and Richfield, had them clear theirs for an afternoon meeting.
Not every member of the National Security Council needed to be present. This meeting was about making a decision, and Hardy needed people who could help. Besides, since it was not a formal NSC meeting, Joanna could attend.
Andy Lloyd, one of the longest-serving secretaries of state in recent history, was the elder statesman. Richfield, as secretary of defense, had a good working relationship with Hardy and provided an overarching defense background beyond Hardy’s submarine experience.
Bill Hyland reviewed the NSC’s recommendations one more time. A few had been modified, based on viewing after a little rest. Some had been fleshed out with details, which led to one being removed from consideration. Hyland’s list represented the best American counters to Russia’s — Fedorin’s — campaign of disruption and annexation.
Hardy tried to suppress his reflexive distrust of economic sanctions. “None of these — oil, insurance, travel — are decisive enough. And they take too long.”
“They would have an effect, though,” Hyland argued. “Some of these were used when they annexed the Crimea, and the Russians kept telling us how they weren’t having an effect.” He smiled.
“They didn’t hurt enough to make them give the Crimea back,” Richfield countered. “And you can’t administer sanctions as a deterrent. Doing it after the fact won’t correct the damage the Russians will have done by that time. And it will probably strengthen Fedorin’s hand domestically. The old ‘is that the best you can do?’ taunt.”
Hyland offered, “I told the economists at CIA to see if they can generate a synergistic effect…”
“It won’t be quick enough, Bill. We’re talking about weeks here, maybe days, not months or years,” Hardy insisted. “We could freeze Russian assets here, and NATO could do it in every one of their member countries, and it still wouldn’t be sufficiently painful to force them to pull back and rethink their plans. They’re close to finishing whatever preparations they need to make. They’ve spent a lot of money and effort to build that facility, and they’re not going to stop because we lock down someone’s piggy bank.”
“There still are no diplomatic options,” Hyland reported sadly.
Lloyd agreed. “There never were. Fedorin’s not interested in talking to us. We’re the people who destroyed the Soviet Union in 1991, and he wants payback. Remember his bio. His father and grandfather were both old school KGB. His dad worked with Putin, and Putin was Fedorin’s first boss, and mentor. His grandfather passed away before the collapse in 1991, but his father died in 1992. The official cause on the death certificate was cancer, but Fedorin always claims he died of a broken heart.”
Joanna Patterson, who’d been listening quietly, said, “And you think this is about revenge.”
The SecState nodded. “I’ve given this more than a little thought. Annexing the Baltic States, Georgia, Ukraine, and perhaps Moldova not only helps rebuild the old Soviet state, it weakens NATO, and humiliates the U.S. If we don’t stop them, then countries like Poland and the Slovak Republic will know they’re next on Fedorin’s hit list, and will wonder if we can do anything at all to protect them.”
“What worries me more than him taking over part of Europe is that he may be actually considering a preemptive attack using the Dragon torpedo. I’ve spoken to him twice,” Hardy explained. “The first was a formal congratulatory phone call when I was elected. That was cold enough. He spoke through an interpreter, and he said exactly what was required and ended it, as quickly as possible. The second was that Economic Summit in Mumbai. Joanna came with me.”