Gray Vengeance (11 page)

What struck Harvey was the noise—or more precisely, the lack of it. Apart from a few hushed conversations, the only sound was the staccato clicking as a thousand fingers played over keyboards.

‘Impressive,’ Harvey admitted. ‘So what does it do?’

Manello led them over to a control panel beneath the giant monitors. On the screens, a counter ticked over at colossal speed, the number already past the hundred million mark.

‘How much have you been told?’ he asked.

‘Only that you have the means to identify the people behind the attacks.’

‘Then allow me to elaborate. There are more than seven billion people on this planet, and anyone worth worrying about is going to have a way of communicating. They might use a computer, or a laptop, or it could be a tablet or smart phone. What this program does is alert us whenever someone types one of our trigger keywords into their device.’

‘That’s hardly new,’ Thompson said. ‘We’ve been able to intercept transmissions for years.’

‘Who said anything about transmissions?’ Manello smiled. ‘The moment someone
types
‘jihad’ or ‘attack,’ we’re alerted to it. Our system is notified, and we pull down the entire typing session to see what context it’s being used in. If it’s innocent, like an author writing his next blockbuster, we filter them out. If it’s a genuine threat, we do a full download from the device, including location and registered owner.’

‘Are you saying you’ve hacked every device on the planet?’

‘Basically, yes, though ‘hacked’ would be the wrong word. The software is hidden deep inside the operating systems. It was developed by us, and we just handed the files to the software vendors with the instruction to incorporate it into their systems. All we had to do then was drop a file into the target folder on our server and wait for each device to find it. Once they do, the keyword list is stored in their device’s RAM, leaving no footprint.’

‘Surely someone is going to stumble across it one day,’ Harvey said. ‘There are people out there who rip code apart for fun.’

‘Not this code,’ Manello assured him. ‘It is a separate file that can only be opened through a command prompt and requires a sixty-four-digit password. That password is hashed and buried inside the kernel, and when we asked our best people to decrypt it, they came up empty, despite the massive computing power
available
to them. The chances of anyone stumbling across it and being able to read the file are too small to be of any significance.’

Despite the assurances, Harvey could see trouble looming. The US government had been extremely embarrassed by the Edward Snowden affair, which had come on the back of the WikiLeaks scandal. Compared to those revelations, Brigandicuum would be devastating. Even if it managed to identify and stop the attackers within the next forty-eight hours, privacy groups would have a field day. Still, from a law enforcement perspective, it was undoubtedly a useful tool that would significantly reduce the terror threat to the country. But if word of it ever got out, a lot of careers were going to be cut short.

‘When you say you do a full download, how much data are we talking about?’

‘Whatever’s on the device.’

‘But how do you get round the ISPs’ download limits? My
laptop
, for example, has a terabyte hard drive. That’s a lot to send. Besides which, my phone account only allows me five hundred megabytes of data per month.’

‘That’s all taken into account,’ Manello assured him. ‘The kernel contains a high compression algorithm that cuts the size of the download by ninety percent, which makes most devices
manageable
. If it is still above a certain size and data limits start to interfere, we have the option to remote onto the device instead. We don’t like to do that as it can leave a trail, so that’s always the last resort.’

‘Are you sure users won’t be aware of the downloads?’

Manello shook his head. ‘In the case of a really big grab, they might notice Candy Crush Saga freezing for a split second, but that’s about it.’

‘With the power going out all over the country, isn’t this all redundant?’ Thompson asked.

‘Laptops and phones work on batteries,’ Manello pointed out, ‘and while many areas have been affected by the power cut, there are plenty that are still connected.’

Harvey nodded. ‘What happens if an employee takes this to the newspapers?’

‘Then we hit a button and make it go away. Unlike other system updates that require the user’s permission, we can do a forced upload and remove the Brigandicuum software instantly. The file is opened, overwritten a dozen times with garbage, then sliced apart one bit at a time. I’ll leave damage control to the politicians; it’s what they’re paid for. As an operator, I happen to love it.’

‘Yes,’ said Thompson, ‘but still . . . you have hardware makers involved. Seems like too many parties involved to keep a secret like this.’

Manello shrugged. ‘This technology’s been in place for a year and we haven’t heard a peep. Still, we’ve only now activated it, so you may be right in the end.’

Manello seemed unconcerned, and for good reason, thought Harvey. If news of the venture reached the public, it would be the government taking the flak, not the analysts dissecting the mountains of data flooding onto their servers.

‘So you’ve had hundreds of people sitting here for twelve months, just waiting for the go signal?’

‘No, we’ve been operating with a skeleton crew,’ Manello explained. ‘They’ve been mostly doing maintenance and stress-testing the equipment, but we got orders to ramp things up last week for a full-on demonstration for your prime minister.’

‘Why does it have such an obscure name?’ Thompson asked.

‘It was chosen because it was unlikely that anyone would ever type it into their handset or computer by mistake. If anyone does use it, it is instantly flagged and we know that someone is discussing the program.’

‘I take it that the figure on the screen is the number of hits you’ve had.’

‘That’s right,’ Manello said. ‘Unfortunately, everyone and their brother is talking about the attacks, so the number of hits will soon reach the billions.’

‘When you say talking, do you mean the software can pick up the keywords in a conversation too?’

‘That’s right. It also analyses any videos recorded or
downloaded
.’

The numbers continued to tick over, nearing two hundred
million
after just a few short minutes. Harvey wondered if the people monitoring the incoming data could ever hope to keep up, given the enormity of the task.

‘I read that over a hundred billion emails are sent every day,’ Harvey said, ‘and many of those are spam. How do you cope with those numbers?’

‘Fewer people send emails than receive them,’ Manello smiled. ‘A spammer will send a single email to maybe a hundred thousand victims, but our only concern is the person
writing
the email, not the people who receive it. Not unless it turns out to be of interest to us.’

‘Isn’t there a way to filter it out to show only the keywords used
before
the attack?’ Thompson asked.

‘Only if you have a time machine. It just isn’t possible to
identify
anything typed into a device prior to our program’s activation. The exception would be anything saved in a phone’s call or SMS logs. We plan to check for videos and files that were saved to disk, too, but the software has to be updated to do that, and then we have to distribute it to every device. We’ve got
developers
working on inserting a filtering option, but it could be twenty-four hours before it gets rolled out worldwide. This system was designed
to be
proactive, not reactive. If we’d gone live last week, this would
be anoth
er normal December day, and the bad guys would alre
ady b
e locked up.’

‘So where do we begin?’ Harvey asked. ‘Is there any way to narrow down these numbers?’ He nodded to the screen, where the digits were already pushing a billion as more and more devices connected to the server to access the keyword list.

‘There isn’t that much we can do at the moment,’ Manello admitted. ‘The sheer volume of data makes it impossible to check everything, so we’re using local algorithms to check for multiple keywords in each download.’

‘How about narrowing it down by IP address? I understand each IP relates to a certain country. Can’t you focus on a specific range, such as the UK and Nigeria?’

He told Manello about the DSA video.

‘Interesting. Yeah, we have that capability,’ Manello said, ‘but up until this moment we had no idea where to focus. I’ll pass that along and hopefully it’ll narrow things down a bit.’

‘Have you got anyone else looking at the data, or is this it?’ Thompson asked.

‘There are a few hundred analysts back home in Fort Meade with access to the feed, but even with them we’re going to be snowed under.’

What had promised to be an exciting development in their fight to halt the attacks now looked to have faltered at the first hurdle. Harvey hoped Manello’s prediction of better success to come was accurate.

‘If you’ll excuse me a moment, I have to report in.’ Harvey took himself to a private area and gave Ellis a brief account of the situation. ‘Do you want us to come in, or remain here?’

‘Stay where you are,’ Ellis said. ‘See if you can get access to a terminal and reach our servers. Co-ordinate with your team from there. As soon as you get anything from the NSA, let me know.’

‘Will do,’ Harvey assured her. ‘What’s the latest?’

Her sigh told him it wasn’t going to be good news. ‘Around seventy percent of homes are without power, six Tube stations have been hit, traffic is at a standstill in almost every town and city centre, and the emergency services are screaming for reinforcements. Up to now, seventy hospitals have reported explosions, and the rest are being evacuated to makeshift units in the car parks. The PM is mobilising the troops, but they won’t be effective for at least twenty-four hours. They have the same logistical problems as everyone else: transporting large amounts of equipment is out, so they’ll be using helicopters for the more serious incidents until we can get the roads cleared.’

‘How did we miss this?’ Harvey asked. ‘There were no warnings of any kind.’

‘Complacency,’ Ellis said. ‘We’ve always thought of terrorists as clumsy, disorganised, and few and far between. Today shows us just how wrong we were. That’s a mistake that won’t be repeated.’

‘Now that we have this NSA system activated, it’ll be hard for them to catch us napping again,’ Harvey said. ‘I just wish we’d switched it on last week.’

‘I get the feeling the PM was waiting for the next major attack as justification for bringing it online,’ Ellis told him, ‘though I don’t imagine he was expecting anything of this magnitude. It certainly wouldn’t have made it onto the statute books in peacetime.’

‘Having seen how intrusive it is, I have to agree.’

He promised to call if the Nigeria angle revealed anything, then signed off. He spotted Thompson having her own phone conversation, and went to join her. As he approached, she hurriedly ended the call.

‘Who was that?’ he asked.

‘Just checking in to get the latest updates,’ Thompson said, stuffing the mobile in her pocket.

‘So what’s new?’

‘It’s a shit storm,’ she said. ‘What did Veronica say?’

‘We’re to run the team from here.’

She nodded. ‘Manello went to sort out a couple of desks for us. I want you to concentrate your efforts on the UK while I check out northern Nigeria. Someone must be co-ordinating this attack centrally. If we can find that person, we should be able to identify the others.’

Harvey looked up at the counter, knowing that—barring a miracle—the attacks would keep coming.

Chapter 18

15 December 2014

Hamad Farsi knocked on Ellis’s door and walked in, catching her in the middle of a phone conversation. He waited until she hun
g up.

‘We’ve just got word that riots are springing up all over the country,’ he said. ‘They must realise that the emergency services are stretched to breaking point and are taking advantage.’

The normally unflappable Ellis slammed her palm on the desk. ‘It makes you proud to be British,’ she growled. ‘Barely after five in the evening and the vultures are already out.’

‘It gets worse,’ Farsi told her. ‘Since the news broke that DSA were claiming to be behind this, mosques all over Britain have come under attack.’

Being a British Muslim himself, Farsi could understand how the community must be feeling. Britain was hardly the tolerant society it purported to be, and racial bigotry still thrived in pockets throughout the country. It was bad enough for most Muslims on the best of days, but the recent attacks were going to exacerbate matters.

Ellis rubbed her temples. ‘I just got off the phone with the energy minister. A team from the National Grid were sent out to repair a fallen pylon, but the area around it had been mined. Three of them were killed and another four injured.’

‘Yeah, I saw that on the news. These are some sick bastards.’

‘Sick is right. NG are refusing to make any further repairs unless army bomb-disposal teams clear the sites first.’

Ellis stood and began to pace behind her desk. ‘Any chance you could come back with some good news before the day’s out?’

‘Already got some,’ Farsi said. ‘Network Rail were checking on a buckled track and found a device that hadn’t detonated properly. They managed to recover part of the trigger mechanism, which looks to be phone activated. The phone in question is being analysed as we speak.’

‘Then get them analysing faster. Once we have a number, pass it to Andrew and Sarah.’

‘Will do,’ Farsi said.

‘What about the individuals? Are we any closer to identifying any of them?’

Farsi shook his head. ‘We’ve got hundreds of people looking through CCTV coverage, but it’s looking pretty hopeless if these devices were planted days ago. Most organisations store their data for just a few days, so we’ll be very lucky to get any hits at all. We’re concentrating our efforts on the RTAs at the moment, and hopefully we’ll discover how those crashes happened.’

Ellis’s phone rang, and she snatched it up. After a few seconds of listening, she thanked the caller and carefully replaced the handset in the cradle.

‘Oldham is the latest war zone,’ she said. ‘The local chapter of the English Defence League have torched a mosque and are having running battles with the locals. Greater Manchester Police have pulled everyone off annual leave, but they’re still vastly
outnumbered
.’

Farsi knew Oldham well, having family in the northern town. It boasted a population of a hundred thousand, a quarter of whom were Muslims. The only thing that surprised him was that it had taken so long for things to reach a flashpoint there.

‘Apart from CCTV footage, what else have you got the guys working on?’

‘We’re checking every incoming passenger from Nigeria in the last three months,’ Farsi said, ‘and cross-checking with those who haven’t yet left the country.’

‘Expand the search,’ Ellis told him. ‘Given the scale of this attack, they’ve clearly been preparing for some time.’

Farsi left to pass on the message, while Ellis fielded yet another phone call.

Takasa ended the short call and placed his phone on the table, unable to take his eyes off it. The news he’d just received was staggering, and he regarded the cell phone as if it was a serpent about to strike.

Lose the smart phone and laptop
, the caller had said, before explaining briefly about the new surveillance system’s capabilities.

He considered the implications of what he’d just learned. Gone were the days of carefree browsing while hiding behind proxy servers. Instead, he’d have to spend the rest of his life being vigilant every time he used a laptop, PC or phone.

When he thought about it, that didn’t seem too much of an inconvenience. This would be his last assignment, ever, so there were no worries about incriminating himself in the future, and it wasn’t as if his normal browsing habits would flag him as an international threat. Apart from visiting a few news sites, he rarely went online and never used social media.

He decided that it wasn’t a life-changer.

For himself, at least.

For the billions of law-abiding citizens of the world, it would also be business as usual, but for those bent on terror and crime, the game looked to be up. If the information were
correct
and this new system could analyse conversations, images and video as well as anything typed on the keyboard, criminals would have to go back to the Stone Age if they wanted to continue in their chosen career. Communications would have to be written by hand or on typewriters, then hand-delivered by couriers . . . .

But that would only be if they knew about the weapon being wielded against them . . . .

Takasa was one for quickly recognising an opportunity, and this was a chance to make some serious money. The obvious play was to sell this information to those who would most benefit. But it would also have its limits. News would spread quickly that the West was monitoring every keystroke, and any hope of further sales would disappear.

Another way to profit would be to create software that counteracted their system, blocking all outgoing signals except through one application. Better still, he could have someone create a brand new operating system that wasn’t infected with the spyware.

An appealing idea, except the start-up cost and investment would be staggeringly high.

He smiled as he thought of an even better possibility. As news of the government’s surveillance software spread, the market-leading hardware manufacturers’ stock would take a dive. Billions would be wiped off their share values overnight, giving him yet another opportunity for a dabble in the bear market, selling high and buying low.

The numbers jumping into his head made him dizzy, and h
e pus
hed the thoughts aside. He still had a job to finish before he could start planning his future as a stock raider.

Takasa picked up the phone and removed the cover before extracting the battery and SIM card, thinking it was the least he could do to prevent any unwanted snooping. The laptop was already off and packed away, so that wasn’t an immediate concern, but getting hold of a sterile phone was.

Using the room’s landline, he called his driver and told him to go into the town and purchase another phone, one that wasn’t internet-enabled. In such a poor country, there would be plenty of the antique variants to choose from.

While he waited for it to arrive, he plotted his next move. The attacks were well under way, and the next twenty-four hours would see even more devastation as his secondary phase kicked in. He would have liked another couple of days before moving on, but life didn’t always run to schedule.

Time to make his exit.

The driver arrived an hour later, and Takasa plugged in the new phone so that it could charge. He turned on the old phone and quickly copied over the few numbers he was going to need later, then deleted the entire call history before once again removing the SIM card.

‘Take this to the market and sell it.’ He handed the driver the handset and charger. ‘You can keep whatever you make.’

Hopefully someone would buy it and keep the focus of any international search here in Kano. Takasa also nodded to a briefcase that was sitting next to the door. ‘Take that, too, and put it in the boot of the car. I will need it later.’

The driver left, and Takasa placed a call to London, telling Efram to ensure the special mission was carried out first thing in the morning. He knew that once the first of the cell members was caught, it would only be a matter of time before the rest followed, and he wanted his sole individual target eliminated before that happened.

After passing on the instructions, he called the leader of the council.

‘No doubt you will have seen the results of our efforts on the television,’ he said.

‘Yes, indeed. We could not have hoped for more.’

‘Well, that is not the end of it,’ Takasa said. ‘Today, we brought them to their knees. Tomorrow, we go in for the kill.’

‘But I thought—’

‘I didn’t want to share this part of the plan with anyone until the time was right,’ Takasa interrupted. ‘If the first phase had failed, there would have been no point, but now that we are so close to
victory
, I will explain everything in full this evening. Have the council convene at the usual place. I will be there at eight.’

He ended the call and began packing his meagre belongings, ready to move on once his business in Kano was finalised.

As the long winter night began to draw in, Paul Roberts walked through the suburban streets on the outskirts of the capital, exhausted yet exhilarated after the day’s events. He’d wondered for months what the result of the attack would be, and here he was, witnessing it first-hand.

The streets were all but deserted, with people in this residential area seemingly afraid to leave their homes. The roads here were clear, but on the way he’d seen hundreds of vehicles abandoned, their occupants having given up any hope of reaching their destination by any means other than on foot. It was what he’d been told to expect, and so far everything had gone to plan, which was remarkable in itself.

There were a multitude of things that could have gone wrong: a cell member getting cold feet and revealing all to the security services; someone blowing themselves up as they laid one of the thousands of devices around the country; or the authorities getting wind of the operation and shutting it down before they’d had a chance to strike.

Thankfully, none of that had happened.

It had been a tense few months, no doubt about that, but he’d stuck to the task, going about life without drawing attention to himself. Now, he was one day away from completing the main phase of the mission. In the coming hours, he would stoke up resentment whenever possible, using his multitude of Facebook and Twitter accounts. As instructed, he had created them over the last few months, befriending the less-than-desirable elements of society along the way, and it would soon be time to press the right buttons and urge them into action. He knew that the other cell members up and down the country were doing the same thing, which potentially meant tens, even hundreds of thousands hitting the streets in twenty-four hours.

There were already signs that their social media venture was working, with the news channels reporting several attacks against Muslim communities and pockets of rioting up and down the land.

If people think these scenes are abhorrent
, he thought,
they’re going to find the next few days hell on earth.

As he neared the flat he’d rented a couple of weeks earlier, a group of youths entered the road from the far end, walking towards him at pace. The implements they were carrying suggested they weren’t on their way to choir practice, but Roberts reckoned he could get to the building and be inside before they got close to him.

That notion was quashed when they broke into a sprint, aiming straight for him.

He considered trying for the flat, but they had already closed the gap, and he had no choice but to turn and run. He darted down an alleyway and pumped his legs as fast as they would allow, the physical training he’d received in Nigeria paying dividends. Behind him, he heard shouts as his pursuers tried to close in, but he felt comfortable that he had the legs to outrun them.

He burst out of the alley and into another street, where he turned right and headed towards another dark alley. Feet pounded the concrete behind him, and he heard orders to split up and cut him off, which didn’t bode well. He wasn’t too familiar with the area, but whoever was chasing him seemed to know exactly where he was heading. Roberts had little choice but to carry on and h
ope h
e could emerge in the next street before he was trapped.