Zero Day: A Novel (12 page)

His assistant was right. No one had listened.

14

EAST CHINA SEA

TEN MILES OUT FROM NAGASAKI, JAPAN

TUESDAY, AUGUST 15

1:03 P.M.

Captain Vandana Shiva lifted the binoculars to see if he could spot the offshore facility at Nagasaki as yet. He knew it was early, but he never entirely trusted computers and the Global Positioning System on which they relied. He’d begun his forty-one-year career as a seaman aboard a traditional Indian dhoni. In his mind that had been real seamanship, just the crew and the small boat against the ocean and wind. It had required skill and courage, and it was nothing like what he did now.

An uncle had liked the young Shiva and, lacking a son, financed his education. He’d done well and subsequently risen steadily in the merchant service until reaching the culmination of his career three years earlier when he’d been given command of
The Illustrious Goddess,
the largest supertanker ever built.

With a crude-oil cargo capacity of six hundred thousand DWT, or deadweight tongue, there had never been a ship of this size in history. More than a quarter of a mile long and nearly the width of a football field, it plied the oceans at a respectable eighteen knots. Because it drew more than twenty-six feet, few harbors in the world could accommodate the vessel, so it nearly always docked at an offshore oil facility where its enormous load of 4.5 million barrels was pumped by undersea pipe to an onshore storage facility and refining plant. This single ship contained enough energy to support a small city for one year.

Managed with a spare crew of just forty Filipino seamen,
The Illustrious Goddess
was only possible because of computers and modern technology. Both were needed to design and build her, both were essential to allow her to operate at sea. The ship had been controversial from the start, but her Hong Kong owner had insisted that she be the largest supertanker ever built. So huge was the vessel that it could not steam in the English Channel nor could it pass through either the Suez or Panama canals. But she was entirely suited to load her cargo off the coast of Saudi Arabia at Ras Tanura, the largest such offshore oil facility in the world, then make the passage to Japan and back, at great profit to her owner.

A ship of this size had had problems from the first. Initially she’d had an unplanned vibration that was finally identified as coming from improperly designed gears. At some expense that had been repaired. Then there’d been problems with the sides of the vessel when the ship wasn’t fully loaded. They’d found it essential to maintain a proper balance of crude oil and sea pressure to prevent dangerous cracks from appearing in the structure. Next came a problem with navigation. So immense was the vessel that it had been necessary to include the earth’s rotation when calculating its route.

The primary problem, though, had been control. She was pushed through the seas with just a single enormous screw, also the largest ever built. On most major ships two screws were considered essential to allow the ship to be properly steered and stopped in an emergency. But for reasons of cost, this ship was fitted with just one. During test trials it had proven extremely difficult to turn the ship from its course once it was at speed. Even worse, at slow speeds it couldn’t be turned at all. Nor could tugboats budge the ship when it was fully loaded.

On top of that, the ship just wouldn’t stop.

That was an exaggeration cited by critics of the owner for pushing the envelope to this extent, but in truth the ship was hard to stop indeed. Even with the propeller in full reverse, with the ship’s inertia it took twenty minutes and many miles to bring it to a halt.

All of this caused Shiva great concern. It meant every move of the ship had to be carefully scripted. It meant always thinking far ahead. It meant that smaller vessels had to get out of its course because he had no way to keep the ship from striking them. He was certain that
The Illustrious Goddess
had sunk small fishing vessels more than once when steaming near a coastline.

To perform his duty meant depending entirely on the computers to get it right. No expense had been spared in creating the finest software system a British company could design.

It also meant worrying all the time, which was why he was scanning the horizon for a glimpse of the Nagasaki offshore facility. The engines should go to “dead slow” any minute as
The Illustrious Goddess
began to reduce speed for the docking, but the ship had to be maneuvered into exact position before he lost much headway. Once the vessel slowed to a crawl, he wouldn’t be able to dock her if she wasn’t properly aligned.

But what bothered Shiva most of all was that technically even major storms were supposed to be of little concern as the loaded ship unnaturally rode the heaviest waves with scarcely any effect. To Shiva, that was wrong. The sea was the master, always. A ship of this size was arrogance; it showed a contempt for the ocean, and from that could only come a great harm.

“Sonny,” Shiva said. “Do you have it on radar?”

Sonny Olivera glanced up. “Yes, Captain. I’ve got it.”

“Well, I don’t. There’s a haze blocking it from view. Renato, shouldn’t the engines be at dead slow?”

The helmsman, Renato Arroyo, scanned the dials. “I think so, Captain. Any second now.”

Three minutes passed with no change. “This is cutting it close,” Shiva said. “What does the GPS show?”

“There’s no alert, sir. All’s normal,” Olivera said.

The ship continued plowing through the choppy seas as if in the middle of the Indian Ocean. “This isn’t right,” Shiva said finally, his seaman’s instincts telling him something was wrong. “We should be slowing by now. How far are we out?”

“Fifteen clicks, sir,” Olivera answered, his voice no longer unconcerned.

Shiva considered the situation. The engines should have gone to reduced speed at eighteen kilometers. “Check the computers.”

After a moment: “Normal readings, sir.”

Shiva began to sweat. They were well overdue to reduce speed. Aimed straight at Nagasaki harbor and land, they were going at eighteen knots. But if he went to manual, could he pull this off? He could slow the ship, but he doubted very much he could make the turn and bring it to a halt within the prescribed circle for the offshore facility to do its job. He’d never done it before and was certain he couldn’t do it without a computer. But what choice did he have?

“Take the computer off-line. We’re going manual. Helmsman, dead slow.”

“Yes, sir,” Olivera answered, glancing nervously at his captain.

Shiva felt no change in the ship. “Sonny? Are we manual yet? Hurry!”

“Captain, the computer is locked.” Olivera looked up in a panic. “It won’t take a command!”

“Try again.”

“No change, sir.” Olivera’s voice rose. “It won’t accept a command!”

Shiva could see the offshore facility now, shimmering in the distance. Behind it was the mainland and the city itself. He began to sweat profusely. If he turned off the computer, he wasn’t certain he could command the ship. Even on manual the commands were sent electronically. Nothing was connected directly by wire or cable as in the old days. There was an override system, he knew, but he’d never used it before.

“Captain?” Arroyo’s voice was urgent.

Being in command meant Shiva had to command. That was the single truth he’d been taught over the years. Right or wrong, the captain gave orders. “Turn off the computer.”

“Sir?” Olivera said in disbelief.

“Hurry! Turn it off. We have to go manual.”

A moment later Sonny said, “It’s off. It wouldn’t take the shut-down command, so I had to kill the power.”

“Dead stop, Renato,” Shiva ordered.

“Dead stop, sir.” Arroyo took the control in his sweaty palm and rang the command.

The engines continued throbbing unchanged.

“Do it again,” Shiva ordered, fighting to remain calm. The offshore facility was looming far too close on the horizon.

Arroyo sent the order again. Nothing.

“How far are we out?” Shiva asked, willing himself to remain calm. The captain must never panic.

“GPS is down with the computer off, sir,” Olivera answered.

“Hard to port!” Shiva ordered. If he couldn’t slow the ship, he needed to head it in a safe direction.

“Hard to port, Captain,” Arroyo repeated as he spun the wheel. “Sir! Nothing. I’ve got no control. It’s just spinning in place!”

The Illustrious Goddess
continued at 18 knots like an arrow straight at the offshore facility and the port beyond. Shiva estimated the distance at under ten kilometers. Even if he had control, he couldn’t stop the ship in time.

“Full reverse!” Shiva ordered.

Arroyo moved the control. “Full reverse, sir.”

Nothing. The engines continued as before. The ship plunged ahead without alteration.

“Turn the computer back on. Reboot. Hurry, Sonny, hurry!”

A long minute passed. “The computer’s frozen, sir. It’s locked.”

“Do it again and keep doing it until we have control.”

“Captain, we’re almost there!” Arroyo screamed.

Desperate, Shiva radioed the offshore facility and the port that he had no control over the ship. A small Japanese naval ship came out and signaled frantically for him to stop, but he could do nothing.

One mile out the computer was still locked and steering was unresponsive. Shiva sounded the horn as warning, over and over. The deep, resonant blast reverberated like the voice of God as the ship moved across the ocean, but it did no good except to draw a crowd of workers on the facility to the rail and members of his own crew to the deck.

The massive ship passed the floating facility with fifty feet to spare, though they cut several oil lines and crushed at least one small tender tied to a moorage.

Shiva could now see the port. “My God,” he muttered. “Sonny, you still can’t get the computer up?”

“No, sir. It just locks, over and over.” Olivera looked up from his screen at the reality beyond the windshield. His face was dripping in sweat. “What’s going to happen?”

Four minutes after rushing by the offshore facility,
The Illustrious Goddess
roared into Nagasaki harbor, smaller ships scattering in every direction. The enormous ship made the sound of an onrushing locomotive until it struck bottom more than one hundred yards out, but with its mass plus the surge of the engines continuing without respite, the ship plowed ahead as if nothing had happened. Like a mammoth battering ram it streaked across the harbor, then struck land, continuing almost without letup until two-thirds of the ship was out of the water. The sounds of twisted and torn metal were horrifying.

Crossing the port, the massive ship killed six men who’d been too slow to move.

Shiva and his disbelieving crew were knocked to the deck by the force of the impact. A deep moan came from within the ship. The ship’s screw continued to turn and turn, the water behind it boiling into a chocolate-colored froth. Out of water, without the pressure of the ocean, the sides of the ship ruptured, and 4.5 million barrels of oil began surging out.

15

MANHATTAN, NYC

WORLD TRADE CENTER SITE

TUESDAY, AUGUST 15

12:38 P.M.

Jeff’s decision to form his own computer-security company when he left the government had been logical and, for the most part, satisfying. His involvement in the events leading up to 9/11 were known to only a few within the Company, who certainly had reason not to brag about his discoveries. The veil of secrecy over his work at the CIA also prevented him from going public with the details, though he’d come to accept that it would have done no good if he had.

Instead he plunged into the world of cyber-security, where he believed he could do some good. He knew the government was where he belonged, but it was too mired in bureaucracy for him to be effective. Perhaps he could attack the problem from the private sector and make a good living at the same time. From his experience, the level of security for most computers, even those for otherwise quite sophisticated businesses, was paper-thin. Their security programs weren’t updated routinely or even activated, and patches released for vulnerabilities were often not installed.

In the worst-case scenarios, viruses propagated at an alarming rate. SQL Slammer, a virus released in early 2003, doubled every 8.5 seconds and infected 90 percent of vulnerable hosts within ten minutes. It was responsible, directly and indirectly, for shutting down thirteen thousand Bank of America ATMs.

A more recent high-profile example was the Conficker worm. It was originally launched by as-yet-unidentified hackers in late 2008 to serve as a general-purpose platform for malicious activity ranging from spamming to denial of service attacks. By constantly updating to use increasingly more sophisticated update, propagation, and rootkit techniques, it had managed to infect an unknown number of computers with estimates as high as 15 million.

Every year, every few weeks in fact, more and more viruses were unleashed, and increasingly they were searching for ways to steal money. One-third of the U.S. workforce was online, while millions more banked in cyberspace. Internet crime had outgrown illegal drug sales, netting more than $120 billion annually. There’d been nearly two hundred major intrusions into corporate computers, exposing more than 70 million Americans to financial fraud. This included everything from dates of birth and Social Security numbers to credit-card numbers and passwords. Ford Motor Company had had the records of eighty thousand employees stolen online.

Worse, the numbers were likely far greater, since so many individuals and companies had no idea their systems had been hacked. The government was largely unconcerned, or unknowing, for the DHS research budget for cyber-security had been cut to just $16 million.

Basically, it is so damn simple,
Jeff thought. Viruses found their path into computers in two ways. They could enter through a vulnerability in an application or within the operating system itself, or they could inadvertently be downloaded by the computer user, who was tricked into manually running the virus, believing it was something it was not.