The Canton Connection Page 6

  But if Chu was hoping to meet up with her, how could he have known that she was coming that far, or even that she would be off work?

  Or was Stacy behind the encounter? Had she been there to meet Chu?

  Jake kept coming back to the question: did she really know Chu, despite what she had claimed during his interrogation?

  He would check with Michael Epstein in the FBI’s Criminal Division the next day to find out if there was any connection between Chu’s company and Stacy Stefansson.

  He bet there was.

  He drove past Stacy’s house on his way home. He was convinced that he was spending too many late hours doing his job, and he was beginning to resent it.

  Her Jeep was parked in the driveway. The house lights were on.

  And a man was carrying in groceries from the car.

  He was small and spry and wore a business suit. Jake recognized his athletic stride.

  It was the Asian guy from the funeral.

  Chapter 12

  The next morning, Jake lay in bed with Amber. She had been a helpful distraction in getting his mind off the case.

  Jake’s cat may have been hungry, but Amber was not. Her skin was darker and gleamed even more healthily after a weekend at the shore. She had worn a skimpy outfit that profiled every delectable curve.

  And he had fallen for her all over again. In fact, the cat was the only creature in his apartment that ate dinner that night.

  He had woken up fulfilled and content, with the sun creeping across the bed.

  “I’m taping an interview today,” Amber whispered in his ear.

  “Who are you grilling?”

  “A banker who lost his payroll to hackers.”

  “You’re not talking about the federal credit union, are you?”

  “I think that’s the one.”

  “Jeez,” Jake said. “Those are the guys that never got my paycheck.”

  She climbed onto him and gave him a good morning kiss.

  But he was already fully awake.

  The apartment door closed behind her, and he rolled over to find his cell phone. He grabbed Michael Epstein’s card and dialed the number. How many cyber attacks were going on anyway? And was Stacy a part of it?

  Epstein was on his headset, already driving to work.

  “Damned sun’s right in my eyes,” he said.

  “Heading in on I-66?” Jake said.

  “Yeah. Speeding along at twelve miles per hour.”

  It was rare for upper management to share such personal details or raw emotions with a special agent, but it seemed like Epstein had a lot of time on his hands.

  “Did you find any connection between Stacy Stefansson and Quantum?” Jake asked.

  “Yeah. I was going to call you, Maguire,” Epstein said. “Our boys looked into it yesterday and came up with some interesting connections with China. It turns out that the overwhelming majority of Quantum’s employees come from China. They’re mostly here on H-1 work visas, but enough of them have become American citizens for the company to qualify as a minority-owned business, which gives them special preference in government contracts.”

  “So some of these programmers are fresh off the boat.” Jake had suspected as much, judging from the makeup of the crowd at the funeral. “What does that mean to you?”

  “You know that China has been trying to hack into our military and government networks for years,” Epstein said. “This is getting them uncomfortably close to the business sector.”

  Jake got to his feet and began to open up his room. He was generally aware of the Chinese government meddling with the internet. After all, didn’t they block sites? They had also flaunted their abilities by rerouting all internet traffic through their portals on occasion, perhaps harvesting the data that passed through.

  He held his forehead to concentrate. “Do you think the Chinese are interested in taking the A root server down, or stealing information from it?”

  “I wouldn’t be surprised if either was true,” Epstein said. “Especially when we found out their connection with Verisign.”

  Jake stood stock still. “Which is…?”

  “Quantum wrote the encryption code for Verisign to access the A root server.”

  Jake eased down to sit on the edge of the bed. “What encryption software? Stacy said the password was entirely in her head.”

  “I heard that, too,” Epstein said. “I was watching your interview with her. But you have to remember that a password is only one element to security. Storing the password on the computer that lets her into the database involves encryption. You don’t want anybody to steal the password off the computer.”

  Jake got that. “So does this mean that Chu had access to the password?”

  Epstein was quiet for a moment, and all Jake heard was the hum of a car engine speeding up and slowing down.

  At last, Epstein came over the line. “We have to assume the worst.”

  “Is there any evidence that Stacy and Chu knew each other personally or professionally?”

  “We’re still working on that. I’ll let you know what our team finds out, but this calls for me to do a much deeper probe, involving discreet inquiries of real people.”

  Jake knew that such an investigation was much more elaborate than simple computer searches. “It’s worth it,” he said. “Something caused Chu and Stacy to be on that path at the same time. Even if they simply worked together on the encryption contract, why the meeting on the bike path? Chu might have been trying to compromise her, or she may have been feeding him secrets. I don’t know which.”

  “Neither do I,” Epstein said. “I’ve already authorized a full investigation. I want to turn Verisign inside out. The big unknown for me, though, is why the hell the Chinese might be sniffing around the A root server.”

  Jake was already on that. He had determined sometime during the course of the previous rambunctious evening and night to head for the Department of Defense as soon as he woke up. Now he had some targeted questions to ask.

  “I’m on the case,” Jake said. “I’ve got a contact at the Pentagon who can point me in the right direction.”

  “Fine. Let’s keep each other informed.”

  Jake hung up and began his shower, his mind fully engaged. He wasn’t dreaming about Stacy and he wasn’t reliving the glory with Amber. He had to look into more distant affairs.

  Foreign affairs.

  Chapter 13

  It had rained during the night, causing backups on the Capital Beltway.

  Behind the wheel, Jake reviewed his mission for the day.

  Todd Williams at the White House had given him a number to call at the Pentagon. Jake had no illusion that the Pentagon contact had the answers he needed as to what Chinese programmers at Quantum might want with the A root server. But maybe the guy could point him to the right agency within the Department of Defense that could answer his questions.

  A quick phone call had sent him heading to Fort Meade, halfway to Baltimore, to meet up with personnel at the Cyber Command Center.

  The name “Cyber Command” sounded impressive. He imagined soldiers standing around a computer room in combat boots, ready to attack the next hacker they found.

  The image couldn’t have been farther from the truth.

  The Capital Beltway slowed down due to a chemical spill, giving Jake extra time to mull over the case.

  Why had Stacy not been forthcoming? She had tried to remain an anonymous witness. Then, when found out, she only supplied evidence under questioning. And why didn’t she tell him about her link to Quantum?

  What else was she hiding? Was she in any danger? Had she been threatened?

  Maybe Michael Epstein’s protection was a good idea after all.

  That brought him to the question of the hour. He was going to Fort Meade to find out exactly what the Quantum programmers were up to and to sound the alarm. If all went well, he could turn the case over to Cyber Command and they would take down the enemy before there was any
damage to the internet.

  The beltway was going nowhere, so he merged onto I-95 and was soon heading toward the Army base.

  A simple sign directed him off the highway. It didn’t read “Fort Meade.” Rather, it read “NSA.”

  He smiled. For years, the large eavesdropping National Security Agency was not officially recognized by the government. And the initials simply stood for “No Such Agency.”

  After 9/11, however, the general public became aware of the agency’s existence, principally because of its intrusive reach into people’s email accounts and telephone communications.

  But that didn’t concern him now. He wanted to meet the military standing behind the nation’s security.

  Corporal Buck Jones worked as a public affairs specialist for the base. He stood in a green uniform waiting for Jake at the main gate. He signed Jake onto Fort Meade and then hopped into his personal pickup for Jake to follow.

  Jake had never been to the vast Army base before and tailed Corporal Jones through the woods and dewy fields looking at signs. Roads led to various headquarters, such as Defense Courier Service and Defense Information School as well as to barracks, houses, a preschool and a golf course.

  Eventually they pulled up to a spanking new facility, complete with its own flying eagle emblem.

  Jake parked between two pickup trucks with American flag decals and insignia from other military commands.

  Corporal Jones led him into the building.

  Jake logged in at the guard post, turned over his cell phone, and followed Jones into America’s nerve center for countering cyber attacks.

  He had expected to see computer banks manned by vigilant soldiers, ready to spring into action and launch counterattacks. But the only computer he saw on a short walk to a conference room was a console at the guard’s desk.

  Major Harold Simpson came briskly into the conference room and offered Jake a handshake. He had the firm grip of a combat veteran, and seemed out-of-place in the military’s computer nexus.

  “I was just at Quantico yesterday,” Major Simpson said, as if the FBI spent all their time in training there. “I have to keep up my certifications.”

  Jake imagined he was talking about practicing on the firing range, something also required on a regular basis for FBI special agents.

  “So why are you here?” Major Simson asked.

  “I’m here because I’m investigating a murder case involving some computer experts,” Jake began. He told about Stacy and Chu and how the A root server and Quantum, Inc. were linked.

  The major listened attentively, and Jake could tell he was following the story.

  “I need you to look into this,” Jake said. “My fear is that hackers, perhaps with foreign backing, are close to penetrating the A root server. And if they do, they will have the ability to disrupt any and all business in America.”

  Simpson’s hands were neatly clasped on the table. “As far as a criminal investigation goes,” he said, “I’m afraid that’s a domestic matter and we can’t get the military involved.”

  Jake knew that the military couldn’t conduct operations within the nation’s borders, and that was fine with him. He didn’t know that the restriction also extended to domestic investigations of actions harmful to national security.

  “So you ask, what do we do here?” Simpson said, leaning back. “We were formed in 2009 to coordinate all our military cyber commands, be it Army, Navy or Air Force. We’re here to protect our DoD networks and prevent the enemy from attacking them.”

  “Military only?”

  Simpson nodded. “You’re talking about the internet. Well, just like the Department of Homeland Security protects all .gov sites, we’re in charge of protecting all .mil sites.”

  “So who protects .com?”

  Simpson’s stoic expression didn’t change. “That’s the realm of private industry. The economic information world is controlled by a complex and highly resilient body of international law and information market controls.”

  “So you’re telling me that if Chinese hackers attack our economy, you’d do nothing?”

  “Okay, say we were to identify the Chinese government as involved in your case. As you may or may not know, we at Cyber Command are hamstrung by Congress not to make a preemptive strike.”

  “I’m not talking about warfare,” Jake said.

  “No, but various interests are calling for a new branch to the military: Cyber Warriors. Nobody wants to acknowledge yet that we’re in an arms race built up for deterrence.”

  “You think the Chinese government is preparing to attack?”

  “Offense is everyone’s best defense. The same year we set up our Cyber Command, they set up a department just for cyber war and to protect their assets.”

  Jake let out a low whistle. “So you keep an eye on them.”

  “Of course we do,” Simpson said.

  “And you’re aware of Chinese cyber attacks on the homeland?”

  For the first time Simpson looked uncomfortable. “Actually, no. We don’t get information on attacks on the U.S. from the DHS. We wouldn’t know whom to attack.”

  Jake was stunned. That explained the calm, relaxed atmosphere of the building. “You’re not at a state of high alert?”

  Simpson nodded carefully. “We go about our business.”

  Jake was afraid to ask the next logical question. “Then whose business is this?”

  Simpson jerked a thumb over his shoulder. “The corporal could take you over to the NSA and see what they have their eye on.”

  Jake had the distinct feeling that he was getting the runaround. Here were two government departments sharing the same military base, yet they operated in two different worlds.

  The DHS handled security for .gov. The Pentagon handled security for .mil. Who was out there preventing attacks on the .com world?

  The economy was a national security issue and it might well be under attack. Why didn’t the American people face up to that fact?

  As he signed out and picked up his cell phone at the guard post, he began to wonder what all the security was for. The military could take his phone away, yet they couldn’t thwart foreign agents who might want to take down the entire economy.

  Suddenly, all the impressive pickup trucks in the parking lot seemed inadequate and ill-suited to tackle problems of the 21st Century.

  Chapter 14

  A thin layer of rain still coated the road and a musky scent hung in the air.

  Jake fell in behind Corporal Jones’s pickup truck as they headed across the base.

  He had been surprised and disappointed to learn that the U.S. military was prevented from launching a counterattack against whoever was trying to access the A root server and that it would be up to someone else to identify the culprits and shut them down.

  And from the way he was being shuttled around, from the cyber units of the FBI to DHS to DoD to NSA, he had a growing suspicion that the duty would fall to him.

  They passed several trails that led into the woods until they reached a small sign that read, “NSA.”

  Could the eavesdropping experts help him track down who was behind the murder of Quantum’s president, and help expose any plot involving Stacy and the A root server?

  The trees suddenly ended, and Jake faced a sea of cars parked before enormous buildings.

  Up to that point, he had been impressed by the base’s isolation and secrecy. Suddenly there was a concentration of workers so extensive it was hard to believe the American people barely knew about it.

  The austere and monolithic buildings surrounded by cars reminded him of some religious site on a holy day. What was everyone worshiping?

  There was a sense of order in the neat rows of cars. He also noticed a change in vehicle types from sporty, off-road vehicles at the military parking lot to sedate little civilian cars, including a large number of gas-efficient, hybrid, and electric cars.

  Clearly the brains at the National Security Agency had a different
culture and lifestyle than their military neighbors.

  Entering the computer facility at the NSA reminded him of returning to school. It had the same sharpened pencil smell of a math classroom.

  From what he knew of the NSA, he was entering a sort of paradise for mathematicians. Here was where all the codes were broken. These were the people who crunched all the data they received through radio, telephone, cell phone, and computer sources on planet Earth. They operated so many supercomputers and analyzed so many signals, that he was sure he was entering an electromagnetic field that would make his fillings hurt.

  As with all top-secret government buildings, he had to leave his cell phone at the front desk.

  Major Simpson had called ahead, and a team of NSA officials was waiting for Jake and Corporal Jones.

  A ring of men stood mutely watching him pass through security. They wore shirts and ties, civilian clothes chosen by people who rarely dealt with the public or business counterparts.

  “Welcome to the NSA,” a tall man with wire rimmed glasses said. His shoulders were stooped as if he had spent his whole life hunched over a computer keyboard.

  “Agent Jake Maguire, FBI.”

  “I hope we didn’t do anything wrong,” the leader said jokingly.

  “Naw,” Jake assured him. “This investigation is centered on a murder case.”

  The ring of men looked at each other. The topic of murder seemed to force them to think of the world on a more human level.

  “I’m Calvin Stickler,” the leader said. “Please follow me.”

  Jake and Corporal Jones fell in behind the rapidly moving group.

  Jones was a public relations guy, but seemed to take an interest in Jake’s mission. “I had no clue what you and Major Simpson were talking about,” he told Jake. “Sure hope these eggheads can help.”

  Stickler pressed several keys on a cyber lock and opened up what turned out to me nothing more than a small conference room. If he stayed there much longer, Jake knew he’d catch the same paranoia.

  When they sat down, there was absolute silence. Jake couldn’t even hear computers whirring.