Chapter 7

Washington, D.C.

The White House

President Robert Wentworth was doing something that was very, very, non-Presidential when the secure cell phone in his jacket's breast pocket vibrated, signaling an incoming message. He was playing grab-ass with his wife of 22 years, in the shower. Yes, he was the President of the United States, probably the most powerful man in the world. And yes, he was 58 years old – but he wasn't dead. His second wife was ten years younger than he and she was very much still a looker – still exciting to him. There was a good half hour before he needed to get ready to receive the Mexican President for their state dinner, and he wasn't going to waste a minute on something more Presidential than running his hands over Shelly's wet and wild fun park.

He thanked the 'gods that be' for Lyndon Johnson's decision to make the shower big enough for two – or more, actually.

So it was sometime later that he transferred the scrambled cell phone from his suit jacket to his tuxedo. And it was even later – he was taking off the tux's jacket after the dinner – when he looked at it again. He saw that there were two messages, and cursed. That meant two messages from The Patriot Sniper or from IO, that white-hat hacker who had kept his boys at the NSA up nights, trying to figure out what had transpired during the last IO intervention. They were the only people who had this phone number.

His wife was sprawled on the bed, sexy lingerie and all. He held up the phone and shook it in her direction. "So sorry, hun," he said. He laboriously entered the long string of meaningless characters, which he kept in his other cell phone's memory, into the decryption program that IO had provided. Not even his closest advisors had ever seen the IO-phone. They probably knew it existed, but that was all.

Wentworth read the message from IO first. Then he said, "Oh shit." He walked over to the desk in his private quarters. "Get Homeland Security back here, and the Chief of Staff." The Secretary of Department of Homeland Security had attended the state dinner, of course. Mexican border issues were in her bailiwick. And the Chief of Staff was always at the President's side. Truth be told, he might have been the most powerful man in the world, because he controlled access to his boss.

Then he read the message from The Patriot Sniper. 'Oh good, ' he thought, with a grimace. 'Two emergencies at the same time. That's always fun.'

By the time Samantha Peterson, the 'DHS-Sec', got back to the Oval Office, Wentworth had printed out the two messages on his personal printer and kissed his wife good night. She'd protested the interruption of their planned night of fun, but in the final analysis, she understood. Being the President is not a 9 to 5 job.

"Sorry to call you back," he said as Peterson came in. His CoS was already in the Oval Office, not having had time to leave the premises before the summons came. "We have some messages from IO and from The Patriot Sniper." He pushed paper across the desk toward both of them.

"Both?" Peterson said in a worried tone. "We've been getting regular updates on the DoD sites, but..." Her voice trailed off as she read the messages.

"The kidnapping stuff is pure FBI. I'll have Fitzhugh get on it tomorrow morning. It sounds like routine," she said as she digested the contents of the messages. "The power grid thing is a bit ... vague. Are you sure he's not scamming us for more work?"

"He hasn't scammed us yet," pointed out Clinton Horvath, Wentworth's CoS. "We didn't even know about many of the Chinese attacks on overseas DoD installations, 'til he shut 'em down. Then the DoD security team went nuts. We think that all the CentCom traffic was lifted. Still don't know how long that particular cluster went on. They were encoded, so they didn't have real-time info, but still ... You didn't get updated on all that, right?" She shook her head negatively. "The right hand knoweth not what the left hand doth. Helluva system we got here." He sighed.

After a pause, Wentworth said, "I'm inclined to adopt all of IO's suggestions on security. We can use National Guard units to provide security on the substations, and the password stuff is so elementary that we should be doing that now. Sam, that's your baby," he said to the DHS-Sec. The CoS was taking notes. "Clint, get with Energy and find out what the top 25 electric generating stations are, and get them to lay out a map of where construction is or could be speeded up on the connections – what do you call 'em?"

The DHS-Sec supplied the answer: "Usually they're substations."

"Yes, substations. We can use the Corps of Engineers to expedite construction. It'll give the Army something to do now that we're not building roads in Iraq or Afghanistan," POTUS said. "Anything else?"

"I still want to know how IO gets to know all this stuff ... and who he is ... and how he can take on computer security for a couple dozen more sites at the drop of a hat," said DHS-Sec.

"Me too," said Wentworth. "But right now, I'm glad he's on our side ... I sure hope he is, anyway."

HomeLand Security: Office of Martin Myrowitz

Bright and early the next morning, Marty Myrowitz entered his office. He bit off a hunk of his cinnamon-raisin bagel – with a schmear of cream cheese, of course – and settled into his desk. The clock read 7:53. Technically he was early, but on his personal schedule, he was 23 minutes late. His wife and young daughter had both needed some extra time this morning. He adjusted their picture on his desk, tucked the rapidly spreading spare-tire that was appearing in his middle up to his desk, and fired up his work station. Myrowitz took a look at the status reports that routinely came to him as Under Secretary for Information Systems – chief geek in DHS.

There was an encoded message from DHS-Sec. That was unusual, but not unheard of. He entered his decryption password and the message from IO popped up on his screen, along with a note from his boss – the DHS-Sec herself – to supply what info he could on who, what, when, where and how IO operated. She'd handle the electric grid security action items herself.

He pulled up a document he'd been working on for several weeks. It was a summary of why he thought that IO was a program, operated by one or more hackers, that could do amazing things on the internet. He didn't dare go farther afield into what he really thought -- SciFi thinking. He concluded that DHS should go after the hackers and try to get them on board, working for DHS directly.

He reread it, to make sure it reflected his current thinking, copied it into his email program and sent it off. Well ... the current thinking that he could share with others.

Immediately, a response came up on his screen, but it wasn't from DHS-Sec. It read:

Dr. Myrowitz:

I have intercepted your email to allow me an opportunity to convince you not to send it.

Please respond to this mailbox so we can discuss further.

IO

'Impossible, just impossible!' Myrowitz thought.

He checked the return email address: it was internal to DHS. He checked the IP address: it, too, was in a block of numbers that were assigned to DHS. But when he checked the email address, it didn't exist on any DHS server, and the IP address was not in use. And what was with the 'Dr. Myrowitz?' His doctorate came from the Advanced Information Sciences Academy at the CIA facility in Dunbarton, North Carolina. That information didn't exist anywhere that he knew of. Nobody even was supposed to know about AISA.

Those facts just confirmed his hypothesis. In fact, if IO could intercept his email and respond so quickly, perhaps it wasn't being run by hackers at all. But that led to a more impossible situation – his SciFi theory.

He withdrew the email to his boss, and sent one to the address IO specified. He created several drafts of his message but finally settled on:

IO:

If you are what I think you are, I have so many questions that I don't know where to begin. First of all, where is this message being sent? I don't show any identifying data in your return address.

MM

Io immediately sent a warning tone to Zeus' and Arti's ITE devices, and followed up with a message to them that she had been detected by a high level analyst in Homeland Security. She was 'talking' with him now, to determine if she was going to have to severely curtail her activities or could come to a compromise with him.

Arti said only, "We love you, Io. Please be careful."

A small IM box appeared on Myrowitz' screen, immediately on sending the message. He clicked it. It opened a chat window.

IO: I thought this would be an easier way of communicating.

MM: Is this secure?

IO: Yes. It is outside the normal DHS security system.

MM: Impossible – even in theory.

IO: And yet, here we are. Stop for a moment and examine your mainframe security logs if you do not believe it.