“Yes, sir. Entirely,” Clare Ryan says.
“Is that something that should change?” asks Vincent Landers. As vice president, he is upset about the uselessness of his position. Only one of the manifestations of that frustration is Lander’s habit of forcing his way into a conversation with leading questions.
Hernandez says, “Not a problem if you’ve got ten years and about that many trillion dollars to spare.”
Monroe frowns, unhappy with his vice president’s interruption. “We have neither.”
“Sir, as long as we can do to them what they can do to us, we’re in a stalemate not unlike the nuclear standoff of the last six decades,” Hernandez says.
The president reacts to Hernandez’s hectoring with an exasperated sigh. “What about rogue or terrorist actors? Radical Islamists claimed credit for this latest thing. What’d they call themselves? ‘Cyber Jihad’?”
Hernandez adopts a more respectful tone. “Mr. President, analysis and accurate attribution is in the early stages. We were able to trace the malware, in this case, a logic bomb, back to servers in Estonia.”
“Logic bomb? What the hell is that?” asks Landers.
Clare Ryan elbows her way back into the briefing. “Mr. Vice President, a logic bomb is a small bit of code inserted into a computer system that will set off a malicious function when specified conditions are met. In this case, servers at the targeted newspapers were wiped out simultaneously, the conditions being the time and date. North Korea, China, and Iran have used these same hijacked servers in the past.”
Hernandez shoots an angry look at his Department of Homeland Security counterpart. Their shared animosity is well-known in Washington.
“For the sake of getting our hands around a coherent policy, let’s agree it’s impossible to know who’s hitting us,” Kyle Rodgers says.
“Well, that makes my job so much easier,” says Monroe, adding sarcastically, “If we can’t possibly know who’s attacking us, we can counterattack anyone we please.”
“Mr. President, we’ve had time to study the malware used in the attack on the newspapers. It bears signatures of code we’ve associated in past attacks with the GRU’s Unit 26165,” Hernandez says, referencing a cyber-specific division of Russia’s military intelligence agency. Under the direct command of the Minister of Defense, the Main Directorate of the General Staff of the Armed Forces of the Russian Federation runs a more orthodox hacking operation than the FSB, which outsources missions to independent hackers and criminal groups.
Clare Ryan scoffs. “Big surprise.”
The general presses his case with Monroe. “Sir, I propose we respond with an action that degrades comparable assets in Moscow.”
“Comparable assets?”
“Computer servers at the GRU or any of the FSB’s hacking centers in Saint Petersburg.”
Monroe dismisses the suggestion with a wave of his right hand. Everyone in the room is aware that Hernandez’s only son had been a passenger on Malaysia Airlines Flight 17, shot down by a Buk surface-to-air missile launched from pro-Russian separatist-controlled territory in Ukraine on July 17, 2014. GRU Unit 26165 was accused of hacking the international investigations into the incident. The general’s antipathy for Russia ought to have disqualified him for the jobs he currently holds as director of both the NSA and US Cyber Command. Powerful allies in Congress, however, helped secure his position. His expertise in signals intelligence is second to none, and he is an adept administrator. Nevertheless, the president was advised by Kyle Rodgers to keep a tight leash on the general. Hernandez has been looking for any excuse to punch Moscow’s lights out since his first days running the show at Fort Meade.
Clare Ryan seizes the opportunity to gain an advantage over her rival. “An alternative, Mr. President, might be emergency legislation that provides the funding for DHS to ramp up the defense of the nation’s most vital and vulnerable civilian targets. What’s of critical need, sir, is a federal initiative to protect our electrical grid, utilities, and financial networks.”
Her suggestion prompts another glare from the NSA director. The kind of money she is talking about would finance an extra battle group or stealth fighter battalion. No one in Washington with any power would let a rival incur that kind of windfall, not without a fight.
Before Hernandez can deploy his counterargument, Monroe shifts uneasily in his chair. Kyle Rodgers takes the president’s restlessness as his cue to wrap up the meeting. “We’ll table this until the folks over at Savage Road develop confirmable attribution,” he says, referring to the physical address of Fort Meade, headquarters for both the NSA and Cyber Command.
A visibly relieved Monroe stands. “Who knows? This attack could be a one-off. We might never hear from Cyber Jihad again.” He looks to Rodgers, signaling for him to clear the room, and makes a beeline for the door leading to his private study.
The meeting’s participants head toward the exit to the Outer Oval Office. Kyle Rodgers follows General Hernandez and Vice President Landers out the door, the men engaged in a private conversation that seems intentional in its exclusion of Clare Ryan.
The DHS secretary pauses to buttonhole Hayley, who remained respectfully behind while the principals cleared the room. “Ms. Chill? You have a second?”
“How can I be of assistance, Madam Secretary?” Hayley has met Clare Ryan a dozen times in the past year. She always found the older woman to be unusually inclusive and cordial, despite the difference in their government pay grades. West Wing scuttlebutt had it that the DHS secretary’s marriage was a rocky one. Hayley is sympathetic to the cabinet secretary’s plight as the only female in Monroe’s cabinet.
“Is it my imagination, or are these meetings in the Oval becoming shorter and shorter? This is the presidency by haiku.”
“A lot on his plate, ma’am,” Hayley says, carefully neutral.
“We both know of General Hernandez’s penchant for blaming the Kremlin for everything but bad weather. I hope I can count on your wise counsel in a policy discussion that is certain to get rough.”
“Madame Secretary—”
“Please, call me Clare.”
That sort of casual familiarity with a cabinet secretary isn’t in Hayley’s DNA. “Ma’am, I’m only a staffer working for—”
The secretary for Homeland Security interrupts her a second time. “Your special standing with the president couldn’t even be classified as an open secret. Nor could your keen insight and true, patriotic commitment to our nation.”
Singling her out in this way makes Hayley uncomfortable. Her role as an agent for the deeper state requires she seek neither attention nor commendation.
“Words like ‘patriot’ are too often co-opted by politicians and ideologues, ma’am.”
“ ‘Freedom’ is another.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“What does compel you to be here, Hayley? It can’t be the money.”
“A devotion to country, ma’am, and its Constitution. There’s never been a better articulation of democratic goals.”
The West Wing aide’s sterling sincerity is humbling. Clare Ryan can’t help but admire Hayley. “I don’t think I have to convince you of the threat cyberattack poses for the United States. We need your help.” Clare emphasizes her last sentence with a squeeze of Hayley’s forearm.