“The only way we can fit all this stuff inside the plane is to leave the radar operators, weapons controllers, and battle staff officers on the ground and datalink the info to them,” Patrick said. “But that’s the easy part. We can tie into anyone’s network pretty quickly, and we can send the data to just about anyone in the world—from the White House all the way down to a commando in a spider hole—via a multitude of methods. I’ll show you tonight in the briefing room.”
With technicians swarming all around the plane like ants, Thompson soon felt he was in the way. “I’m headed back to the Tank, Patrick,” he said. “Holler if you need anything.”
He didn’t see Patrick again until nine P.M. that evening. Thompson found him and Jon Masters in the conference room overlooking the Tank sitting in front of two large wide-screen laptop computers. The screens were divided into many different windows, most dark but some displaying video images. He took a closer look and was surprised to see what appeared to be a video feed from an aerial platform. “Where’s that image coming from, sir?” he asked.
“That’s Kelly Two-Two, a Reaper on its way to Zahuk,” Patrick replied.
Thompson looked at the laptops and realized that they didn’t have any data connections attached—the only cords coming into them were from AC adapters. “How did you get the feed? You’re not hooked up to our data stream, are you?”
“We’ve got the Loser fired up and scanning for datalinks,” Jon said. “When it picks up a datalink, it splices itself into the feed.”
“Your ‘Wi-Fi hot spot’ thingy, right?”
“Exactly.”
“And you got a wireless connection into here?”
“Yep.”
“How? We prohibit wireless networking inside the Triple-C, and the Tank is supposed to be shielded.”
Jon looked over at Patrick, who nodded his permission to explain. “Turned one way and a shield can be used to block things,” Jon said. “Turn it the other way and a shield can be used to collect things.”
“Huh?”
“It’s complicated and not always reliable, but we can usually penetrate most metallic shields,” Jon said. “Sometimes we can even get the shielding to act as an antenna for us. Active electromagnetic shields are tougher to penetrate, but you rely on the metal walls of the Tank and reinforced concrete and physical distance to shield the Triple-C. All that works in our favor.”
“You’ll have to explain to my physical security guys how you did this.”
“Of course. We can help you fix it, too.”
“Hack into our system and then charge us to plug the leak, General?” Thompson asked, only partially sarcastically. “Hell of a way to make a living.”
“My son grows out of his shoes every six months, Kris,” Patrick said with a wink.
“I’ll submit it,” Thompson said. He didn’t feel comfortable knowing it was apparently so easy to tap into their datalinks. “Who else are you plugged into?”
Jon looked over at Patrick again, who nodded assent. “Just about the whole operation,” Jon said. “We’ve channelized the entire command VHF and UHF radio net and the intercom here in the Triple-C, locked into the wide-area network created by the Stryker Combat Team, and we’re receiving the IMs between the tactical, brigade, and theater controllers.”
“IMs?”
“Instant messages,” Patrick said. “The easiest way for controllers to pass information like target coordinates or imagery analysis to others who are on the same network but can’t exchange datalinks is by plain old instant messages.”
“Like my daughter texting messages to her friends on her computer or cell phone?”
“Exactly,” Patrick said. He expanded a window, and Thompson saw a stream of chat messages—combat controllers describing a target area, sending geographic coordinates, and even passing along jokes and commenting on a ball game. “Sometimes the simplest routines are the best.”
“Cool.” When the IM window was moved so Kris could see it, it uncovered another window underneath it, and he was surprised…to see himself looking over Patrick’s shoulder! “Hey!” he exclaimed. “You tapped into my video security system?”
“We weren’t trying to do that—it just happened,” Jon said, grinning. Thompson didn’t look amused. “No joke, Kris. Our system searches for all the remote networks to plug into, and it found this one as well. It’s just the video system, although we did happen across some other security-related networks and declined access.”
“I’d appreciate it if you’d decline access on all of them, General,” Thompson said stonily. Patrick nodded to Jon, who entered some instructions. The video feed disappeared. “That was not wise, General. If there’s a security problem after this, I’ll have to look at you as a probable source of the breach.”
“Understood,” Patrick said. He turned to look at the security chief. “But there obviously is some sort of breach, because there is someone on Nahla Air Base shooting at friendly aircraft. Since we’ve been hired to enhance security around this whole sector, I can argue that I can legally access something like video feeds.”
Thompson peered concernedly at McLanahan, his mouth rigid. After a few rather chilly moments he said, “The colonel said you were the kind of guy who’d rather ask forgiveness than ask permission.”
“I get more done that way, Kris,” Patrick said matter-of-factly. But a moment later, he got to his feet and faced Thompson directly. “I apologize for that, Kris,” he said. “I didn’t mean to sound so flippant about security matters. It’s your job and your responsibility. I’ll notify you the next time we stray across something like that again, and I’ll get your permission before I access it.”
Thompson realized that if Patrick had hacked into the security system once, he could just as easily do it again, with or without his permission. “Thank you, sir, but frankly I don’t believe that.”
“I’m serious, Kris. You tell me to shut it down, and it’s done…period.”
What if he didn’t shut it down? Thompson asked himself. What recourse did he have against a private contractor? He vowed to research the answer to that question right away. “I’m not going to argue about it, sir,” Kris said. “But you are here to assist me in securing this sector, so you can tie back in if you think it’s essential to your job. Just tell me when you’re back in, why, and what you’ve found.”
“Done. Thank you.”
“What other security-related areas were you able to access?”
“Colonel Jaffar’s internal security network.”
A cold sweat popped out under Kris’s collar. “Internal security? He doesn’t have an internal security staff. You mean his personal bodyguards?”
“That may be what you think it is, Kris, but it looks to me like he’s got an entire shadow J-staff—operations, intelligence, logistics, personnel, training, and security,” Jon said. “They do everything in Arabic, and there’s no foreigners on it that we can see.”
“That means that he has his men in charge of the entire regiment’s departments and command structure,” Patrick summarized, “so he’s kept abreast of everything you do, plus he’s got an entire J-staff operating in the background, paralleling the regimental staff functions.” He turned to Kris and added, “So if, for example, something were to happen to the Triple-C…”
“He’d be able to take over right away and continue operations himself,” Kris said. “Pretty fucking scary.”
“It could be suspicious, or it could be smart on his part,” Jon said. “He could even argue that your Status of Forces agreement allows him to have his own separate command staff.”