The Geneva Trap

Chapter 46

Paddington Green Police Station – one of the places that God forgot, thought Liz as she walked up the steps of the hideous 1960s concrete block. She had been there before: the police station had been converted in the 1970s to hold high-security suspects, mainly terrorists, in a suite of below-ground cells and interview rooms. She was heading there now, accompanied by Charlie Fielding, to interview the man who had been arrested by Special Branch officers earlier in the day.

They went down two flights of stairs, then along a narrow corridor, painted battleship grey, which had steel-reinforced cell doors to either side. At the counter at one end of the corridor they were joined by one of the arresting officers. ‘Has he said anything?’ asked Liz.

‘Nothing much, ma’am. He asked why he was being held. When I told him he’d find out soon enough, he stopped talking.’

‘Has he asked for anyone?’

‘No. I said he could make a phone call, but he didn’t want to.’

‘So he hasn’t asked for anyone from his Embassy?’

‘No.’

The officer accompanied them into the interrogation room, which was bleak and bare, lit only by an unshaded overhead light bulb. The effect was grim – a grey-and-white world, like a still from the film of The Spy Who Came in From the Cold. Except that Park Woo-jin was no Richard Burton, thought Liz, as the door opened again and the prisoner was brought in by an armed police officer, who stood guard by the door.

Not that Park Woo-jin seemed to present any sort of physical threat. The short, rather fragile Korean, whom Liz recognised from the surveillance photographs, seemed to have shrunk. In his nondescript grey office suit, white shirt and unremarkable tie, he looked pathetic rather than menacing.

He nodded politely to Liz and Fielding as he took his seat on the opposite side of the table, putting his hands together neatly on top.

The Special Branch officer said: ‘Mr Park, I am an officer of the Metropolitan Police and these are two government officials who are here to interview you about a matter relating to national security. I have offered you the opportunity to contact someone but you have refused. This interview is being recorded and I should warn you that…’ He continued giving Park Woo-jin the standard warnings. Then he sat back in his chair, duty done, and let Liz take over the questioning.

‘My name is Jane Falconer and this is Mr Fielding.’

‘What is this about?’ asked Park, coming to life suddenly. ‘Your people would not say when they stopped me. I was on my way to work. They will be wondering where I am.’ His flawless English had a slight American inflection, but there was not the slightest hint of the sing-song cadence that characterised so many Far Eastern speakers of English. Park gave a weak smile. ‘I don’t want them to think I am neglecting my duty.’

‘Mr Park, we became aware several weeks ago of a serious security breach affecting work being done under MOD auspices. It involved the department’s computer systems and was without doubt some kind of cyber-attack – highly classified areas were hacked into by someone who did not have any permission to be there.’

‘That is most alarming,’ said Park with a look of concern.

‘It is, Mr Park, but fortunately we think we have discovered the identity of the individual who did this.’

‘I am glad,’ he said.

‘Yes. We believe it was you.’

Park frowned. ‘That is a serious charge.’

‘Yes, it is. That’s why we are giving you an opportunity to tell us what you were doing, and who you were acting for. What you say now could affect what happens to you next.’

‘What exactly are you accusing me of? I am sure this is a misunderstanding.’

Liz could see that he was rapidly trying to gather his thoughts. Fielding spoke for the first time. ‘You intruded into a protected cyber-area where outside entry was strictly forbidden. No one could have got there by mistake.’

‘I don’t understand what you mean. You see, in my job it is often necessary to explore a bit. They say curiosity kills the cat, but not a programmer.’ He smiled, inviting them to smile back. When that didn’t happen he pursed his lips. ‘Possibly I am sometimes a bit too curious. It is an occupational hazard.’

Fielding shook his head. ‘There’s curious, Mr Park, and then there’s intrusive, and then there’s spying. We’re here about spying.’

Park opened his eyes wide. ‘No, no,’ he insisted. ‘I am not a spy.’

Fielding had taken notes out of his jacket pocket. ‘There isn’t much doubt. You entered a codeword-protected network within the last two weeks. It could not have been done accidentally or casually; it required a sustained campaign to find a way in. You found an opening – by chance, I think – and then you hitchhiked past the firewall. We’ve traced the intrusion to you, without any doubt.’

Liz knew the last assertion wasn’t true, but Fielding said it with confidence. She watched Park Woo-jin carefully and could see he was uncertain. ‘It could have been someone else on my computer,’ he said at last.

‘Let’s not waste each other’s time,’ said Fielding, and Liz saw that he was angry. She wondered which bothered him more – the embarrassment of having his ‘secure’ network hacked, or the treachery of Park Woo-jin.

The prisoner didn’t say anything for a moment; he closed his eyes and they all sat in silence. It was important to keep him talking, but paradoxically the best way of doing that seemed to be to let him think. After almost a minute, he opened his eyes and looked at Fielding.

‘Okay, so maybe I went somewhere I shouldn’t. But it wasn’t with bad motives. You could say I have the soul of a hacker while I wear the uniform of the authorities. I have to admit, my curiosity has sometimes got me into trouble. Back in Korea, and once even at Langley – if you don’t believe me, you can consult them there. I’ve always been interested in seeing how secure these “secure” sites are. I like a battle of wits with the gate-keepers. When I see a “no trespassing’’ sign, it is like a red flag to a bull.’

He looked beseechingly at Fielding, as if a fellow boffin would understand this. But the other man shook his head in annoyance. ‘Come off it,’ he said sharply. ‘It wasn’t like that and you know it. For one thing, there weren’t any “entry forbidden” signs; there weren’t any signs at all. This wasn’t forbidden territory, it was unknown territory. You went looking for it, Park. The question is, why?’

‘Curiosity. Like I said.’

‘Rubbish. There wasn’t anything to be curious about. You went to enormous lengths to find an opening to a project you couldn’t even be sure existed. That’s not cyber-travel; that can only be espionage.’

‘Not true.’ Park Woo-jin seemed unperturbed by Fielding’s assertions. ‘I was only browsing.’

‘Then why did you copy code you found in the network when you cracked into it? Your crawler was sticky, Park. We know it picked up code along the way and retreated with it, like a honey bee loaded with pollen.’

Was Fielding guessing this? Liz wondered. Could he be sure Park Woo-jin had downloaded encryption systems he’d found? The evidence pointed that way emphatically, yet could he prove it if Park Woo-jin insisted it wasn’t true?

But Park Woo-jin didn’t deny it. ‘I just took a sample. The bot was told to do that.’

‘Why? What were you going to do with it?’

‘Nothing – when I looked at it, I couldn’t make head nor tail of the code.’ He shrugged. ‘Curiosity again; and I wanted a memento. The bot’s designed to bring back evidence of where it’s been.’

Fielding exhaled in exasperation. Looking at the young Korean, Liz realised that not only had he had kept his composure so far, but that he was actually enjoying this questioning; he was treating it like a computer game. This was bad news. Sometimes, overconfidence in a suspect was helpful, since they could grow arrogant and slip up. But not Park Woo-jin: while the conversation remained largely technical, he felt completely at home. He and Charlie Fielding would lock horns for ever, and so far Park Woo-jin had learned more than he had given away.

‘We’ll take a break now,’ she announced, and the Korean looked at her with a curious expression, almost of disappointment. She motioned to Fielding and they both stood up. The Special Branch officer said, ‘Interview suspended at 16.15,’ and switched off the tape recorder.

Fielding followed Liz out into the corridor, looking puzzled, as the armed guard closed the door behind them. ‘I hope you don’t believe a word he’s saying,’ he said.

‘I don’t. You’ve done very well,’ she added. There was no point in sharing her frustration with Fielding; he’d done the best he could. Bringing him along had probably been a mistake, but it was her mistake not his. It was time to go on the attack, and Fielding would only be in the way.

‘I’m going to go back in before he’s had time to think things through and invent more excuses. I’ll do it by myself, Charlie.’

‘You sure?’ Fielding looked surprised and rather hurt.

‘You’ve been a big help, and I’m grateful. You’ve set him up for me; now I’ve got to make him fall over.’ She turned towards the Special Branch officer, who was waiting discreetly along the corridor. ‘Let’s go back in. I’m ready now.’