Drone Threat

33

“Showered in the gym downstairs,” Pearce said.

“You need to sleep in your own bed, not the office sofa,” Myers said. “Don’t work yourself to death while I’m gone.”

“Look who’s talking. How’d the meeting go?”

“You mean with Herr Grauweiler? Or August? You should’ve told me, you know.”

“You would’ve waved him off if I told you up front. But when you saw him there, I knew you’d fall in line.”

“You know me that well, do you?”

“Yup.” Pearce stifled a yawn. “So how’d it go with the kraut CEO?”

“Herr Grauweiler is an interesting man. Reserved, in the extreme. Asked all the right questions.”

“But?”

“I don’t know. I think I’ll know more after my meeting today with his CFO and we go over all the financials.”

“Sounds boring.” Pearce took a sip of strong green tea. He had a bottle of booze in his desk drawer but didn’t feel right hitting it this early, especially with Margaret on the phone.

“It is. But that’s where the deal is. In the details. Speaking of which, how’s the nomination coming along? Got your votes lined up?”

Pearce hesitated. He wanted to tell her what was going on but he knew if he did, she’d cut her trip short and come back as soon as she could. Better to hold off. He could fill her in after she got back if it came to that.

“Troy? You there?”

“Yeah, sorry. Still working on the votes. Grafton says we’re a fifty-fifty proposition at this point.”

“She knows her stuff. Say, what was the deal with the FAA glitch yesterday? Was that for real?”

Again Pearce hesitated. He didn’t want to lie to her ever, but Lane instructed the room to keep a lid on things. “Oh, it was for real, all right.” He checked his watch. “The planes should be back in the air in a couple of hours.” Or so he hoped.

“Good. Otherwise it’s a long swim home.”

Pearce’s desk phone buzzed on the secure line. “Hon, I’ve got to go. The president is calling.”

“Oh, so you’re a big wheel now, are you?”

“Only because I know you.”

“Tell David I said hello.”

“I will. Take care of yourself, and call me when you can.”

“Will do.” Myers hung up.

Pearce picked up the other line. “Pearce.” The president’s chief of staff, Jackie Gibson, was on the line. Told him to check his e-mail for some forwarded pictures and to please come over immediately. Pearce hung up and pulled the photos up on his smartphone as he headed out of his office, dreading what he might find when he arrived.

“It’s definitely off-the-shelf technology,” Pearce said. The photos on his phone were also loaded on one of the video monitors in the Situation Room. He was glad to see that neither al-Saud nor Grafton was present.

“Just like the other attacks,” Chandler said.

“It’s an Aerial Assault drone. It’s used for wireless penetration testing. It’s loaded with Kali Linux to test Wi-Fi networks for security weaknesses. Might even have some spoofing software on board, too, to see if they can trick a network into thinking it’s a secure router so they can steal data from the user.”

“Who in the world would sell something like that?” Chandler asked.

“The good guys. There are a bunch of white-hat hackers out there trying to make networks more secure. They use tools like this the same way an air force base will ask a SEAL team to try and infiltrate to see how well their security protocols are working.”

Eaton switched the photo with a remote control. A thirtysomething bleached blonde in an orange jumpsuit pulled up. “The FBI office in Houston had a line on this woman. She’s the head of a radical activist group trying to sue ExxonMobil for ‘crimes against humanity and Gaia.’ They were using this unit to try and find a way to hack into Exxon’s mainframe to scout out any evidence from their database they could use in a federal lawsuit they’re filing against Exxon next week.”

“A private eye in the sky,” Peguero said.

“Signs and wonders,” Chandler said. “Signs and wonders.”

“What does that mean?” Garza asked.

“Something my dear old memaw used to say. We live in interesting times, for sure.”

“So the bottom line is that this isn’t the other shoe we were waiting for,” Lane said. He turned to Eaton. “Still no word of any new hostile actions?”

“No, sir.”

“We dodged a bullet this morning, that’s for sure,” Chandler said.

“Doesn’t mean our bad guys won’t try to do exactly the same thing here or at another facility,” Pearce said. “Or worse.”

“That’s comforting,” Lane said.

“If ISIS managed to hack its way into the Baytown facility, it could wreck all of the control systems and shut down a half million barrels of production a day. That alone would cause a price spike if not outright panic in the oil markets. Imagine if they shut off every valve, pump, cooling system, thermostat, and heat exchanger. At the very least it would shut the entire plant down. It might take months, maybe even years, to find, repair, and replace all of the busted hardware. Worse, it could start a fire that might take weeks to contain.”

“Is that the ‘unquenchable fire’?” Peguero asked, quoting the letter again.

“Maybe.” Pearce frowned with concern. “Hell, a decent hacker could just open up all the valves and dump hundreds of tons of poisonous chemicals into the Gulf. We’d have another BP disaster on our hands.”

“Jesus, Mary and Joseph,” Chandler said.

“We need to think through how we want to move forward,” Garza said. “We’re going to see more and more of these kinds of protest attacks that have nothing to do with ISIS. This technology empowers everyone, including our own homegrown idiots.”

“We’ve raised a generation of malcontents fed on the themes of social injustice and disdain for the rule of law,” Chandler said. “We shouldn’t be surprised.”

“Spoken like a country lawyer,” Peguero said. “A southern country lawyer.”

“Number one in my law school class and editor of the law journal,” Chandler said with a practiced smile.

“The Houston Chronicle got wind of this story. I’ve asked them to sit on it for now,” Eaton said.

“I think that’s a mistake,” Pearce said. “Tell them to put it out there.”

“Why?” Eaton asked.

“Make the public aware that a drone was used to break the law, and that it could’ve caused some real damage. Maybe even cost a lot of jobs at one of the area’s biggest employers. Get people pissed off,” Pearce said.

“So we can get the public to help us spot more drone activity without knowing the real reason why,” Eaton said, nodding. “Smart.”

“Bottom line is we got lucky today and we can see what’s at stake. I say we call in the Russian ambassador to talk about options,” Chandler said. “We can’t afford to waste any more time. It will take some planning to get everybody on the same page, let alone actually mount the operation.”

Chandler’s voice was like nails on a chalkboard to Pearce. What was his angle? “I disagree. There’s no point in talking about fighting a war halfway around the world when our job is to find and neutralize the drone threat right here on our home turf.”

“The war with ISIS has already started,” Chandler said. “Better to let the Russians take it to them on their home turf with our airpower for cover.”

“We always have the option to escalate later,” Garza said. “But I agree with the vice president.”

Chandler shifted in his chair, clearly frustrated. “What harm is there in talking with Russians? At least see what the options are?’

“Fair enough,” Lane said. “Clay, make the call.”

Chandler stole a glance at Pearce, smiled. “Will do, Mr. President.”

“If an escalated air campaign really is on the table, we need to pull in General Onstot on this,” Garza said. “But if we don’t change the rules of engagement, it won’t matter how many sorties we fly, they’ll all come back fully loaded because the pilots are scared shitless of the JAG lawyers breathing down their necks.”

“The ROEs are meant to protect civilian lives,” Peguero said. “Indiscriminate bombing creates more terrorists than it kills.”

“Rules of engagement are for the junior cotillion, not a war,” Garza said. The Vietnam combat vet didn’t suffer fools.

“Let’s table the ROEs until Onstot gets here,” Lane said.

“Shouldn’t we loop in the SecDef?” Eaton asked.

The president shook his head. “Not yet. This thing will gallop out of control if we get too many horses in the traces. The fewer people in the loop, the better.”

“Hate to ask it, but I’d really prefer that the White House press secretary be brought into this discussion,” Eaton said. “It’s one thing for me to call a media outlet and ask them to sit on a story for a day or two, but we need a media professional to spin this stuff if we want to try and keep control of the narrative.”

“You’re right. I’ll call Alyssa in a few minutes. Anything else?”

Nobody responded. Everybody felt the weight of the moment. No need to add more to it. Lane looked at the clock.

“If our ISIS friends hold true, we’ve got just under two hours before they pull their next stunt. Let’s convene back here at noon just in case they do.”

“Is there any doubt, sir?” Pearce asked.

Lane shook his head, resigned. “No, I guess not.”