The Genius Plague

CHAPTER 6

NSA agent Benjamin Harrison looked nothing like his presidential namesake. He was large and bald, with crimson cheeks that turned an even brighter red when he spoke. He seemed out of place in a suit and tie, and his tight collar left an impression against his wide throat. His normal speaking voice seemed to be a shout as he addressed the newest employees of the National Security Agency.

“This is the largest intelligence agency in the world,” he said, his booming voice filling the room. “And most of the country’s intelligence comes from right here at FANX or our sister location at Fort Meade. We give our troops a decisive advantage in war. We stop terrorist attacks before they happen. We locate chemical and biological weapon factories, track troop movements and missile programs, and slow the traffic of narcotics into the country. We are the nation’s first and last line of defense.”

I wondered if Agent Harrison could be the voice actor from the video in the lobby, but I dismissed the idea. His delivery wasn’t trained enough, though he seemed to be drawing from the same basic script. Did they have a cadre of professional writers on staff just to produce this stuff? Come to think of it, in an organization the size of the NSA, with the kind of public relations problems they had, they probably did.

I sat in a training classroom with a dozen other new hires, listening to Harrison preach. The room was organized with rows of long tables, each of which had three computer stations. The monitors were recessed into the tabletops, angled upward, and blocked by panels on each side to prevent any student from seeing another student’s screen.

“The biggest battle we fight is an invisible one,” Harrison said. “We have been fighting it for decades, and it never ends. It’s the battle of cyber warfare, in which our enemies try to discover our secrets by infiltrating our computing systems, and we try to return the favor. It’s a battle where everything we know is at stake—the designs of our fighters and missiles and carriers, the locations of our defenses, our vulnerabilities. Every war ever fought in the history of the world has been won or lost by information.”

Most of the class was listening with rapt attention, though two or three were doodling or using the computers. Harrison didn’t seem to notice. At least half of the incoming class were young women, and I entertained myself by guessing their names. The tiny brunette with short hair and a cute face I decided was Maggie. The tall freckled one with red hair like a sunrise was Kathleen. Megan had wide eyes and cracked her fingers, neck, and knees compulsively, and Diane was the one looking around the room like me and missing nothing. Our eyes met for a brief moment, and I winked. She looked away. The men were less interesting to me, but I assigned them names, too: Ronnie and Argento and Goddard and Max.

Then I noticed that everyone else was typing and staring down at their recessed monitors. Agent Harrison had stopped orating and had given the class some kind of instruction, which I hadn’t heard at all. I looked up at the front of the class, a flood of adrenaline kicking into my system. I didn’t want to make a bad impression on my first day.

“You’re all hackers now,” Harrison said. “Breaking into this enemy system could mean the difference between life and death for American citizens. Let’s see which of you can be the first to crack it.”

I looked down at my monitor. It showed a training website, with links to different courses and online resource texts. It was an unclassified network, connected to the internet and presumably with no connection whatsoever to any of the NSA’s secure systems. One of the links said “Introduction to the NSA course exercise.” I clicked it. A new screen appeared with a username and password. This, presumably, was the “enemy system” that we were supposed to crack.

The other students were intent on their work, fingers moving quickly. They probably all had computer science degrees, maybe with courses in cyberespionage or web security. I hadn’t the first clue how to hack into the site. But that didn’t mean I was going to give up.

I sat there, staring at the login screen, trying to think. Guessing passwords wasn’t likely to get me very far. I didn’t have the chops to make any kind of technical assault. I would have to do this my own way. I went back to the original website and pressed a few links until I found the phone number for technical support.

I raised my hand. “Agent Harrison,” I said. “I have to use the bathroom.”

“This isn’t middle school,” he said. “Get up and go.”

I walked out, moving quickly. In the hall, I turned right—away from the bathrooms. I felt very conspicuous wandering the halls with my bright red visitor’s badge, and I was certain that at any moment someone was going to stop me and demand an explanation of where I was headed. In a few minutes, however, I found what I was looking for. Another training classroom, identical to ours, but dark and empty. I stepped inside.

The instructor’s desk had a phone on it. I dialed the tech support number. “Yes, this is Agent Benjamin Harrison,” I said, doing my best to imitate my instructor’s grandiose tones. “I’m teaching a course here, and I need a password reset on the unclassified network.”

“Name and badge ID,” said the bored voice on the other end of the phone.

“Benjamin Harrison,” I repeated. “And… hang on, I can never remember it. My badge is in my coat pocket. I’ll call you back.”

I hung up, denied but not discouraged. I went back to the classroom and put on an embarrassed, confused look. “Mr. Harrison?” I said.

He looked up. So did a few of my classmates.

“Um. Where is the bathroom?”

He was sitting behind the front table, and I still couldn’t get a good look at his badge, so I doubled over with a hand on my stomach. I tried not to overplay it. As I hoped, he stood and came around to put a hand on my shoulder. “Are you all right, son?”

I saw his badge. The number was printed small on the top right corner, but I memorized it quickly: 7014603. I straightened and gave him a sickly smile. “A little ill, sir. I’ll be okay. I just need the bathroom?”

“Out the door, to the left, then left again toward the lobby.”

“Thanks,” I said. I went out the door and turned left. I wanted to get back to the empty classroom, however, which was in the other direction. Our classroom had glass walls, and I didn’t want to be spotted going the wrong direction. I waited until a man and a woman walked down the hall the way I wanted to go, and then walked next to them, keeping them between me and the classroom with my face turned away.

Back in the empty room, I called tech support again.

“Benjamin Harrison,” I said. “Seven oh one four six oh three.”

I didn’t dare ask for the password to the student exercise to be reset, partly because I didn’t know what to call it, and partly because it might seem suspicious. Instead, I just asked for a reset to Harrison’s main unclassified account.

I heard typing in the background. “Okay,” said the bored voice. “You should be all set. Your new password is the first three letters of your last name, followed by the last four digits of your badge number. Change it within the hour, or the system will lock you out again.”

I thanked him and returned to my class. I nodded weakly at Harrison. A few of the women glanced at me as I made my way back to my seat. Maggie gave me a sympathetic look, but Diane eyed me suspiciously. I smiled at them both. None of the men looked up at all.

I sat down at the terminal and logged off, then logged in again using Harrison’s account and the temporary password. I held my breath, but no sirens wailed. The account welcomed me, and I was in. I brought up the training web site again, which now contained several new options like “Instructor Resources” and “Course Curricula.” I followed the curricula link and found the listing for the Introduction to the NSA course. As I had hoped, the course was given by various instructors, who were provided with a script. I scanned it quickly, until I found the student exercise. And there it was. Username: alanturing. Password: bletchleypark. I smiled.

Five minutes later, Agent Harrison checked his screen and looked up. “It looks like we have a winner,” he said. “I’m not sure it’s ever been cracked that fast before.”

The students all looked at each other, some in surprise, some in annoyance. I smiled at Diane and gave her another wink. She wasn’t as cute as Maggie, but I guessed she would be bright and opinionated. I wondered if she would be interested in going out for some Thai food afterward.

“Neil Johns,” Harrison said. “Please stand.”

I did so, with a flourish and my best winning smile. The expressions on the others’ faces ranged from resigned to disgusted. I guessed they were all pretty competitive and didn’t like to be beaten.

“Congratulations,” Harrison said. “You’ve got a great career in cyber espionage ahead of you. The rest of you, keep at it! Second place is still up for grabs.”

I was still looking around the room, basking in my victory, when three men pushed through the door. Two of them were dressed in very serious-looking uniforms with MP armbands and their hands on their sidearms. The third was in his thirties, bearded, wearing jeans and a striped shirt. The third man took the lead, scanning the computers. He walked down the aisle until he reached my place and tapped on the table next to my terminal. “This is the one,” he said.

One of the MPs eyed my temporary visitor’s permit. “Neil Johns?”

“Yes,” I said. “What is this?”

The first MP took me by the elbow, while the other drew a pair of handcuffs from his belt. “You’re under arrest.”