Chapter 71
David Kurtz burst into Jonathan Riles’ office in such a hurry that the door banged against the doorstop, rippling the surface of Riles’ coffee.
Riles looked up from his papers. “Yes, David? What has your panties in a bunch?”
Although the hair on Kurtz’s head gave Albert Einstein a run for his money on a normal day, this afternoon it looked like he’d stuck a fork into a 220-volt socket. He tossed a stack of printouts on top of the other papers on Riles’ desk.
“We have a situation that requires your immediate involvement.”
Riles did not bother to glance at the readouts, focusing his steely gaze on Kurtz. “You have my full attention.”
David Kurtz paused, something the most brilliant computer scientist on the planet almost never did. “Since the speculation is so outlandish, I’ll stick solely to the facts. We have received another message from the author of the New Year’s Day Virus, and this one came in on the SIPRNet.”
“Have you traced the source?”
“We have.”
“And?”
“It originated right here in the building, on a subnet on the third floor.”
“What?”
“I’ve run a complete trace, including a full message log and router dump. There can be no doubt.”
“Shit. Have you isolated the subnet?”
“I have taken that subnet and the thirteen connecting subnets off-line, physically disconnecting them from all other systems while we work this.”
“Step it out another level.”
“Sir, that will take a quarter of the systems in the building off-line.”
“I don’t care. Do it.”
Kurtz pressed a button on his secure cell phone, spoke a couple of words into the mouthpiece, and then flipped it closed. “It is done.”
Riles rose from his chair, pacing to the digital display that took the place of the window that would have existed in a non-classified facility. He touched the screen, and the scene changed to a pristine beach in Maui.
“Now, David, tell me about this message.”
“Yes, sir. Since the encryption pattern exactly matched the New Year’s Day Virus, our IP sniffer picked it up instantly. It decrypted to five words: Rho Project Nanite Suspension Fluid.”
“On the SIPRNet in our building?”
“Yes, sir.”
“How is that possible?”
“There’s no way to do it from outside. The SIPRNet systems do not have a physical connection to any non-SIPRNet line. Also, this message did not propagate to any other systems like the virus did. It just originated on one of our networks.”
Riles turned away from Maui. “David, I want every single person with access to that part of the building restricted to site immediately. Place an emergency recall to anyone who is not currently in the building and get their asses in here ASAP. Get the interrogation team briefed and moving. Once we have everyone that could have possibly touched the system here and accounted for, nobody leaves until they are polygraphed. If the message didn’t come from outside the building, then I want to know which one of our people is responsible.”
Kurtz turned toward the door.
“David.”
Kurtz stopped to look back at Riles.
“That means everyone who could have touched any part of those subnets.”
“I’ll be the first to take the poly,” David Kurtz responded, then turned and walked out the door.
The door closed behind David Kurtz with a soft snick as the latch engaged. Jonathan Riles stared at the dark wood of the closed portal. He had just ordered over a hundred people to undergo an emergency polygraph that he did not think for a second would turn up anything. Still, if Jonathan Riles was anything, he was thorough. So he would do his duty. Tomorrow would be soon enough to delve into the other disturbing possibilities that whispered at the edge of his mind.
Walking back to his desk, he glanced down at the words on the topmost of Kurtz’s stack of papers.
Rho Project Nanite Suspension Fluid.
The words did nothing to ease his state of mind.