Zero Day: A Novel (39 page)

When he returned to the room, Daryl had finished. Ivana was sipping from a cup and gave Jeff a weak smile before collapsing onto the pillows. Within minutes she was asleep.

“It’s off,” he said. He still couldn’t believe that part had come so easily. After all the blood, there should have been more to it. He was exhausted and imagined Daryl must be too. He tentatively examined his shoulder. The wound had bled a little again, but otherwise didn’t feel too bad.

Daryl nodded. “I’ll call the office, then take a shower.”

Later, Daryl and Jeff lay in bed, speaking in whispers. “Does she need a doctor?” he asked.

“I don’t think so. She wasn’t cut very deeply, and the bleeding’s stopped. She won’t go to one, anyway.”

Jeff said nothing for a long time. He felt Daryl’s deep, steady breathing and decided she’d fallen asleep. Almost to himself he said, “We were very lucky.”

“Yes, we were,” she murmured.

*   *   *

“You don’t have to leave just yet,” Jeff said at the airport the next day. Daryl was back at the hotel, in contact with her office.

“I do,” Ivana said. “I have a father and husband to bury.” She was dressed in clothes Daryl had bought that morning and looked exhausted. “And my mother needs me.”

Jeff took her arm and drifted with her to a wall away from the busy concourse. “I’m sorry for everything that’s happened.”

“It was not your fault. It is fate. You helped kill the assassins. I am in your debt.” She looked at this American and wondered how he could have done such things. He seemed so gentle.

“Is there anything else I can do?” Jeff didn’t want to let Ivana go, for reasons he couldn’t fathom. She’d shown a toughness he’d never imagined possible for someone who was so clearly not usually a violent person. He wondered for a moment what the world would think if they knew the whole story. Would they condemn her husband for what he’d done? Or laud her for risking everything to undo it? He doubted that in all his life he’d ever meet someone like her again.

“Nothing.” Ivana leaned forward and kissed him lightly on the cheek. “God bless you both.”

*   *   *

“Did she get off?” Daryl asked as Jeff entered the suite.

“Yes. She hid the pain very well, I think.”

“She’s a tough lady.”

“That would describe her. For sure…” Jeff’s voice trailed off. “Any progress with saving the world?”

Daryl looked tired, but had that determined look he’d grown to know when she was on a mission. “The code is encrypted, but NSA’s working on cracking it full-time, I’m proud to say. My team at US-CERT is spreading the word to the security vendors. When NSA has clean code for us, we’ll disseminate it to the vendors, then they’ll get the signatures ready and released, in quick time.”

Jeff thought back to the small space where, for all he knew, three dead bodies still lay soaking in blood on the floor. “Did you get a look at that office?”

“Not really.” Daryl shook her head. “It all happened so fast. It was terrible, just terrible.”

For the first time since all this had started, Jeff saw Daryl’s face start to crumble. He took her into his arms and held her as close as he could. After a moment he said, “I was thinking about the virus attack. Altogether it was just three men, and perhaps four computers. That’s all it took.” He paused. “There’s only four days to go.”

“I know,” she said softly against his chest.

Jeff thought back to the day he’d first walked into the law firm and met with Sue Tabor and Joshua Greene. It was as if a lifetime had passed since then. For years he’d focused on Internet and computer security, for years he’d anticipated just such a coordinated attack against the fragile infrastructure of the West. When it came, it hadn’t originated from a rogue nation nor had it taken substantial resources. It had come from a small back office in Paris. And it had not been stopped by a firewall or antivirus software. In the end it had taken the two of them, risking everything and nearly coming up short. It seemed incredible to him.

How long could they stay lucky? This very minute in Singapore, or China, or at any American college campus, some geek could be developing or releasing a destructive virus that used a newly discovered zero-day vulnerability to spread—a new virus for which by definition they had no protection on the always-lagging antivirus signatures, one against which no superheroics could save them.

In the end the Arabs had been unlucky, nothing more. No great feats of software engineering had saved the West. And if it hadn’t been for Ivana’s single-mindedness, he and Daryl would never have found the Arabs or would have been too late. Even now they might not have done enough.

He held Daryl more tightly. At least, finally, he’d found this. The coming days were uncertain. There’d be little time to think about the two of them. But whatever happened from here on, he believed, nothing would change that it was now
we
instead of
I,
and some consolation was to be found in that.

“Will this do enough good, do you think?” she asked.

“Some. Better than nothing.” He met her eyes. “All we can really do now is wait. Together.” Daryl nodded. “Wait,” he said, his voice flat. “But know that if not this time, then next.”

ZERO DAY

DHS ASSURES NO THREAT OF CYBER-ATTACK

By Isidro Lama

Internet News Service

September 10

A report released Friday assures that neither Al Qaeda nor any other terrorist organization possesses the ability to significantly harm American computers or the infrastructure of the Internet.

“Statements that we are vulnerable to a so-called cyber-attack are simply unfounded,” said the executive assistant director of the Department of Homeland Security, Roger Witherspoon, in a press release Friday. “Security has never been higher and such groups lack the sophistication and expertise to exploit what vulnerabilities remain, ones we are in the process of closing.”

The increasing use of viruses for financial scams is the major concern now facing the industry, said Witherspoon, responsible for the overall security of the network, which connects millions of computers worldwide. He dismissed recent assertions that the nation is vulnerable to even a modest attack because so many computers and computer networks lack even basic security software.

“Such talk is counterproductive,” he said. “The various security-software vendors are cooperating completely with DHS and we can be assured that we are secure.”

Internet News Service, Inc.
All rights reserved.

68

PATERSON, NEW JERSEY

CONSOLIDATED BANKING SERVICES CENTER

MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 11

12:01 A.M.

From her perch above the rest of the employees, Margaret Harper glanced across the darkened room, taking in the screens of eighty-three computers in a glance.

Everything was normal, as it usually was this time of night. One shift was leaving as another arrived. Forty-eight personnel, mostly women, had just eased away from their stations, to be replaced by just thirteen until six in the morning, when the room would go to full complement.

Margaret’s part of CBSC was to handle the few customer-service needs for those banking customers with problems who managed to clear the numerous hurdles their local bank had created to keep them from actually talking to a real live human being. More than a dozen banks outsourced their customer service to CBSC from 9:00 p.m. until 6:00 a.m., Monday through Friday, and Margaret was responsible for making it all work.

It was not an especially demanding job, and given her hours, none of the other supervisors were clamoring for it. The 10 percent pay differential made it worth her while. She couldn’t sleep nights anyway.

“Maggie?” one of the representatives who’d been stuck on a call said into her headset.

“Yes?”

“I’ve got a live one. He insists his statement is off three cents. I’m afraid I was a little testy with him and offered to give him the three cents myself. He says that’s not the point and wants to talk to my supervisor. Sorry.”

Margaret chuckled. “I’ll take him.” But just as she heard the unpleasant voice of the customer on the line, the screens across the room flickered, turned blue, then read:

Rebooting …

After a few seconds, the screens flickered again, and read:

NO OPERATING SYSTEM FOUND.

Then the screens turned black.

Margaret disconnected the call without comment. “I’m calling tech support!” she shouted over the sudden chatter that filled the room.

SUBMARINE GROUP 10

NAVAL SUBMARINE BASE KING’S BAY

SOUTHEAST GEORGIA

MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 11

12:01 A.M.

Petty Officer Third Class Russell Winters leaned back in his swivel chair and yawned. As always, day or night, the lights in the communications room were subdued with a certain surreal quality he had some difficulty adjusting to. He’d just come on duty and was already ready for a nap. That wouldn’t do. He took a long sip of the strong black coffee with which he began every shift and turned back to his computer screen.

This was a quiet time for the submarine net spread across the Atlantic. Winters manned the very low frequency, or VLF, radio for the ballistic-missile submarines known as boomers. The screen placed each boomer by location, while the silence in his earphones told him no one was calling home. No one was expected to be calling in, so in this case silence was golden.

Six communications specialists were on duty, along with Lieutenant Commander Danielle Alvarado. She ran a quiet station, which was just as well with Winters. His personal life had all the drama he could manage for now.

He took another sip of coffee as every computer screen blinked.

“What was that?” Alvarado asked from her desk, alert.

“Some kind of hiccup, ma’am,” Winters said. His screen turned blue, then went black. They were down.

“What’s going on?” Alvarado demanded, standing in place.

Winters clicked his mouse. “I don’t know, ma’am. But we’re out of contact.”

Alvarado was already on the telephone. “I need every tech you’ve got, now! We’re down. There’s no way we can give an order or receive a message. You understand? We’re naked right now. We’ll be waiting.” She looked up at her confused staff. “Everybody reboot. We need to get back up.”

“Ma’am,” Winters said, “I just noticed that our satellite uplink is down as well.”

COLUMBUS, OHIO

MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 11

12:01 A.M.

James Black ran the numbers one more time. Maybe, just maybe, they were finally turning the corner. The fall season the previous year had been good for the family company, and they’d just come out of the traditionally slow summer with a positive cash flow, a first. If the economy stayed healthy through the holidays, they’d be in the best shape ever since mortgaging their house three years before to finance the company.

Working from home had been their dream. Black had to admit it was pretty good. It sure beat the daily commute and that boss he’d had. What a jerk! But now it was all in their hands, though if these numbers were correct, it was looking as if they’d made the right call. The key to the company’s success was the lack of an inventory and all the associated costs. It had taken him an entire year to figure that part out. Now he took the orders online, placed his own order with the wholesaler for direct shipment to the customer, then processed the charge. Smooth. The computer made it all possible.

Not that it had been as easy as that in the beginning. He’d had to make many modifications to the software to get it to do what their novelty business required, but that speed bump was behind them. Everything was going to be just fine. Black sat back with a sense of satisfaction.

His computer screen flickered, then turned blue and read:

Rebooting …

A moment later the screen blinked again, read:

NO OPERATING SYSTEM FOUND.

Then turned dark.

Black stared in amazement. He’d never seen anything like it. He killed the power bar, waited, then turned it back on. His attempt at rebooting went nowhere. He tried it repeatedly with no luck. His computer was dead.

Jeez
, he thought,
what am I going to do tomorrow? I won’t receive, let alone be able to process, any orders. And what about the family photos?
“Hell,” he said aloud with sudden comprehension, “what about our financial records and the software?”

He stared at the screen again, as if seeking an answer, his chest beginning to constrict with panic.

CHICAGO-O’HARE INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT

CHICAGO, ILLINOIS

MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 11

12:01 A.M.

Air traffic controller Byron Smith took in the screen with a single practiced sweep. He could close his eyes and place every airplane on the screen exactly. What’s more, he could tell you where’d they’d all be in one minute. As he often told Carla at home, his mind was the best computer of all.

Chicago-O’Hare was one of the busiest airports in the world, and the second busiest in the United States, with more than twenty-six hundred flights daily. Frankly, with their antiquated software, Smith thought it amazing they could juggle so many flights. Still, he enjoyed the challenge and had more than once been called upon to exercise his considerable mental dexterity when the system had become overloaded and sluggish.

This was not an especially busy time for the airport. He didn’t like working nights anyway, and the undemanding work only caused the hours to drag. This was also the time when the techs tended to update the software, and that did not always go without a hitch.

“Stand by!” their supervisor called out. “Any second now.”

Smith had been told this was a minor update. He shouldn’t even notice it, so when the screen blinked, he smiled. So much for techs and their so-called expertise. Then the screen went blue, then black. They were down.