The cafeteria was alive with conversation. About fifteen of the consultants were in there, eating and talking. Behind the buffet line, two stewards cleaned dirty pots and pans. David saw Major Harold Combs, the Air Force officer who had checked everyone in on day one, enter through the cafeteria doors. He grabbed a hard plastic tray and filled his plate, then sat at the farthest table from David’s. He sat alone, like he always did. Every few bites, the Major would scan the room and look at the others like a warden looked at his prisoners.
Henry nodded. “Actually, that example brings up a question. What about after an attack? Would China really want to cut all of the undersea cables that link it to the US if they are planning on occupying us? I would think not.”
Natesh said, “That is something we need to talk over today. The Psychological Operations team and Comms team need to figure out some of the longer-term goals. I know Lena said that week three will be when we go over the occupation details, but I think we’re all starting to realize that the choices we make at this stage in the project will affect the occupation results.”
David drank from his plastic cup filled with orange liquid and crushed ice. Efficient plans drawn up by some of our best experts. This thing was spinning out of control. He needed to tell someone what he had seen and what he was thinking. He needed an ally. And he needed one soon.
Henry said to Natesh, “Along those lines, we’re supposed to give you and the Major any requests for external information, right? I will need you to get me some info from the Internet later. I’ll write it down for you.”
Natesh said, “Sure, no problem. What do you need?”
Henry said, “Exact maps of the undersea cables. I was going to do an options analysis of which locations to target. But I need those maps. Can you get them?”
Natesh said, “I think so. I will check before our afternoon break.”
David tried to sound innocent. “Natesh — I’m just curious — I know you are somewhat of an expert with computers. Are the firewalls that they use in the Comms building really that good? I mean, it seems really inefficient for you to have to go through their censored search engine system. Could you just… I don’t know… hack your way to the regular Internet and communicate that way?”
Natesh shot him a grin. “Well, I am going to follow their protocol. A lot of the information that we are asking for is classified, so the middlemen that we work through are obtaining it through special channels. But yes, I believe their security to be somewhat rudimentary. I am confident that if I really wanted to, I could find a workaround.”
“Oh, sure. That makes sense. I was just curious,” said David.
Natesh typed his code into the keypad of the Comms building and heard the beep, followed by the clicking sound of the door unlocking. He pulled the hefty metal door open, walked inside, and then pulled it shut behind him. It locked with a sharp, metallic clang.
Inside, rays of dusty sunlight reached like fingertips from the narrow slits high up on the concrete walls. There were two computer terminals. Major Combs sat at the first computer, typing away. Combs didn’t bother to greet him. He barely looked up from his workstation. Natesh thought that was rude. But from what he’d seen of the Major thus far, just about everything he did was antisocial. Natesh walked over to the empty computer station.
The Major was housed with the rest of the group in the barracks, but he was treated differently by Lena. At each of the meals, Major Combs had eaten alone, even when others asked him to join their table. His behavior suggested that he didn’t want to fraternize with any of the regular crew. It was like he thought that he was special in some way. He never smiled or spoke to the others unless it was to perform a specific duty. Unlike the other military members in the group, who had all switched over to more comfortable civilian attire at the first opportunity, the Major insisted on wearing his regulation Air Force blues. It looked like he had even brought an iron to press them each night.
The gun was what Natesh really noticed. It was an Air Force-issued Beretta M9, the primary sidearm of the US military. A 9mm semiautomatic pistol, it held fifteen rounds in a detachable box magazine and had an effective firing range of fifty meters. And it was holstered snugly on Major Combs’s belt. Natesh had seen several of the members of the group eyeing it uneasily. What he needed a gun for here was beyond Natesh. But apparently, Lena had asked him to wear it.
The Major was the administrative officer of the Red Cell. He, like Natesh, had been given a few special responsibilities, including the use of the Comms room for Internet searches and closed-circuit email communication. So now Natesh typed on his computer, in a small concrete room, next to an armed and antisocial man.
Natesh decided to be friendly, regardless of his companion’s behavior. He said, “Hello, Major. Good to see you. How has your day been?”
The Major paused from his typing to peer at Natesh over his rimmed glasses. “Good day,” he replied. He then resumed his intense keystrokes.
Natesh rolled his eyes and sat down at his console. Well, so much for that.
He looked at the computer. There were only two icons. One that said SEARCH and one that said EMAIL. Natesh had learned quickly that the SEARCH icon wasn’t very useful. Whoever was in control of their Internet access had blocked such a large portion of the web that it was almost useless to attempt an organic search. Natesh was quite a talent when it came to computers. He had little doubt that if he wanted to, he could hack right past the firewalls. But he had been asked to play by their rules. Instead, Natesh pulled out his notepad that he had used during the day’s meetings and began to type up an email.
From: Natesh Chaudry
To: Red Cell Support Center
Subj: Day 7 Morning Information Request
I request the following information:
— Geo-coordinates of all undersea fiber-optic cables that enter the US (would prefer a map)
— Weapons capabilities of Chinese depth charges — are they able to destroy undersea cables? Do they have nuclear depth charges? Are there safety concerns for the deploying asset?
— Information on all large-scale TV and radio broadcast towers in US: frequency ranges, power sources, security, locations
— Information on converting shipping containers to personnel transports/lodging containers. Is it possible to convert large cargo ships into troop transports? Please send schematics of these ships and any examples of this being done in the past. Please also send schematics of shipping containers, and the names of companies in China that create these items.
He hit SEND and shot the email off, expecting to get the information back within the hour. They were very prompt. He looked at his watch. Almost lunch. He would come back in the afternoon to get the information and then take it to the teams.
Natesh looked over at the Major’s screen. The Major was reading an email reply that he had just received.
From: Red Cell Support Center
To: Major Harold Combs
Subj: Weather Update
Weather conditions fair for next 24 hours. After 48 hours weather will deteriorate and reduce Site Support capability to Level 3 (remote). Tropical Cyclone #16 now at 50 % probability of impacting Red Cell Site. Please notify Site Supervisor and confirm intentions.
The email contained a map that showed a tropical system approaching their island. The funny thing about the map was that it had been sanitized. There was no land around them in any direction. So Natesh couldn’t figure out where they were in the world based on looking at the map. These people were nuts about security.