The Gillespie Five (A Political / Conspiracy Novel) - Book 1 (42) Read online

  He had been surprised to learn that they had been in operation for over two hundred years – especially since with his family and their connections around the globe – he would have thought to have heard about them. But, as they had mentioned, they were interested in remaining quietly in the background. And they did this by finding people who were already in the public eye, who held their same beliefs and, they felt, could make a difference. People like Gillespie.

  They had gone on to give a very extensive listing of all of the many things he had done in his political, and private, life that made him such a good candidate. He had been impressed. And now he was excited to finally be moving to the next phase.

  Reaching the podium, Gillespie cleared his throat, taking a look around in order to gauge his audience. He had learned showmanship from the traveling circuses his grandfather would take him to as a child and he wanted to make sure he had his audience's full attention. Waiting just long enough for people to start looking at each other questioningly, he began.

  "Ladies and gentlemen, my colleague promised you brevity. And I would like to make the same promise, but since we all know that the last thing politicians are known for is brevity, I will not lie to you now."

  A few tight smiles. A chuckle or two. Good, he thought, ruffling through his notes and then stacking them neatly in front of him. Gillespie had always written his own speeches, mainly because he loathed people who spoke in contractions and had never been able to find a speech writer who would avoid them. He would not be using his notes today, however. He never did. It was a running joke among his colleagues and the press that there was never anything to read anyway, that all he had in front of him were blank pieces of paper. The truth would have made its own headlines. He thought of the inside joke he and his wife had shared and then quickly swallowed the still sharp pain of her loss.

  "What I bring to you today is an issue that has many sides to it. Some of them you have heard about over and over again, while others have been barely touched upon. However, for the sake of time and our sanity, I only wish to address one with you here today. And that issue deals with the Internet.

  "Now before you start groaning-"

  He smiled at a few reporters in the back before continuing.

  "I would like to first point out that I am not going to discuss anything about freedom of speech. I believe I would be out voiced in that arena anyway."

  He chuckled and smiled. They chuckled and smiled.

  "I am also not going to bring up the many other problems facing the Internet. You are all very familiar with some of them. Porn, hate groups, pedophiles, gambling and other forms of debauchery. The list goes on. But what I want to address, I believe, is as serious, if not more so, than many of these other issues. I am talking about something that affects us all, as individuals, as businesses, as families, and as a country. I am talking about hackers." He could see his audience shrink back, but he had anticipated this.

  Holding up his hands as if in surrender, he smiled indulgently and continued. "I know, I know. This seems to be an overly beaten, well-trod path that leads nowhere. We have heard countless debates, passed too many policies and laws, and have not seen the results our efforts should have produced.

  "Sure, we have made some arrests, stopped a few hackers. But the truth is, that every day, hackers are reaching out and striking. If every person realized exactly how easily some of these people can take our information and from how many places, we would be more scared. This is a serious issue that truly has barely been addressed. One with a whole lot of talk and not enough action. It is an issue that threatens us and our nation's security. And I do not mean just those attacks against our military either.

  "You are all familiar with the hacks into the FBI's, CIA's and even the Pentagon's systems. But what of the other attacks, or the potential attacks, that could wipe us out more thoroughly than any bomb?"

  He paused a moment, watching them watching him. Some were listening, some were looking at their watches or fidgeting, some were rolling their eyes and others were waiting.

  "I know you have all heard about the news stories concerning various attacks. You may even have heard about some of the numbers on what those attacks cost. One good example happened just a few months ago. A college student was able to steal millions of dollars in a matter of seconds. But what about something that sounds a little less related to hacking?"

  "Anyone remember the rolling blackouts in New York not all that long ago?"

  A few heads nodded.

  "The blackouts were blamed on everything from the extreme weather conditions to antiquated systems. Thousands of people were cut off from power. Homes. Schools. Businesses. Hospitals! But there were two very interesting facts that were left out of the story."

  He held up a blue folder. "What I am holding here is a recently declassified document."

  A few reporters seemed to perk up.

  "It clearly states that those blackouts were not caused by weather or antiquated systems. But by a hacker who had set into motion a series of attacks aimed at overpowering those grids. And those antiquated power systems? The oldest was less than ten years old."

  Some reporters were shaking their heads while others were itching to ask the question he was already waiting to answer. "It is all in this document. And my colleague will hand out copies after the conference. It not only verifies these facts but provides some other, very interesting information. Including the answer to this next question. Who did it?

  "Was it a foreign terrorist? No. A rogue militant activist? No. An organized group of experienced hackers?" He stopped. Looked around, being sure to catch a few of the reporters eyes before continuing.

  "No. It was none of these. It was a fifteen year old kid, acting on a dare!" He pounded his fist on the podium. "A fifteen year old kid! An American kid."

  No one was fidgeting anymore. Instead they all scribbled furiously or pushed their recording devices closer, trying hard to not blurt out all of the questions bubbling up in their hyperactive minds. He paused and took a sip of water from the glass in front of him. They were biting and he needed to reel them in slowly, until he was sure they could not jump the line.

  "And, like the New York blackouts, these other attacks, these acts of sabotage and terrorism are not just being committed by foreigners but by ordinary American citizens. People who, in their day to day lives, would not even think stealing so much as a pencil, but willingly, even blatantly, commit acts of fraud, theft, and vandalism every day on the electronic superhighway. Your neighbors. Your friends. Children. People hacking into systems and selling business and government secrets to the highest bidder.

  "But let me get more personal, because it does not just affect cities or businesses or governments. It affects us. Every day, hardworking Americans are struggling to earn a living, feed and clothe their children and put roofs over their heads. But, according to the latest statistics, twelve point six million people are victims of identity fraud every year. Every year. That's nearly thirty-five thousand people per day."

  He paused, looking around the room, before slowly repeating, "Thirty-five thousand people. Every day. Look around you. The next person might be standing by you. Or a friend, a relative. Or you.

  "Can you imagine waking up one day to find your credit destroyed, getting bombarded by collectors for charges you did not run up? Or, in the extreme case, finding your bank accounts wiped? All because someone could. Everything you worked for, gone. And then, spending the next several weeks, months, even years, trying to get back what was taken from you? Twelve point six million victims every year.

  "I want you to close your eyes for a minute." When the reporters hesitated, he smiled saying, "I promise it will be ok. You know my bark is worse than my bite." A few laughs skirted through the crowd.

  "Close your eyes and imagine this." He waited until he saw most of them do as he asked.

  "You wake up in the morning, ready to start your day. The sun is shining and you have big pla
ns. You roll over to get out of bed and the phone starts ringing. You answer it and, in a matter of minutes, your life falls apart as the person on the other end of the line tells you that someone has hacked into your accounts and emails and posted your most private thoughts, pictures, financial information - intimate things about your life - on the internet for the world to see."

  He noted that they were doing exactly what he had asked. Imagining what it would be like. They were listening now. Not just as reporters but people who were beginning to realize that they could be affected on a much more personal level. He smiled inwardly and continued.

  "Now imagine that you discover they have also wiped out your savings. Everything you ever worked for is gone."

  He watched as they began to open their eyes, looking at him with now somber, thoughtful faces.

  "And what have we done to discourage these people from taking this path of crime? We have passed more laws. And the few arrests we have made have only seemed to make heroes of these people. We have actually become so enamored with hackers and hacking that these people, the same people who bring businesses to their knees, the same people who commit acts of treason with the click of a button, the same people that steal from you, your family and friends, have been glorified!"

  "Their motto is 'Hack the World!' and our children, even adults, idolize these people. And it is not just in America. It has become a global problem. A problem faced by other nations and governments, socialists, communists and capitalists alike. But tell me. Why is this problem increasing at such a staggering rate? Why is it that the very fabric of our society is being allowed to be torn apart bit, by electronic bit, until nothing is left but anarchy?"

  He paused for a breath, then two. "Because. We. Do. Nothing. Yes. We have laws, seemingly strict laws. They have not worked. Mere slaps on the wrists. When the bombing occurred in Oklahoma City, when the terrorists struck on 9/11, did we just pass more laws that stated, 'bombs and airplane attacks are not allowed and this time we really, really mean it?’ No. We hunted the perpetrators down and prosecuted them to the full extent of the law! And, if you ask me we did not go far enough. But we did something.

  "But what happens to the person who brings a company to its knees, causing massive layoffs, all the in the name of a cheap thrill? Hack the World. What about the person who causes the death of hundreds, maybe even thousands, in a country like Bosnia simply by sending the chemical formula for a lethal biological weapon? Because they believe all information should be free. Death by email so to speak. Hack the world.

  "And what do these people get? Fined? Twenty years in prison? If we are lucky, and that is only if they are caught which does not happen often enough. And why not? We have organizations specifically set in place to monitor the Internet. We have spent billions of dollars trying to find ways to better secure our systems, to track down and trap these people. So why is it not working? I will tell you why.

  "Because we are not going after the right people."

  He paused again to take another sip of water. He had gotten their attention and now he had their genuine curiosity.

  "What do I mean by the 'right people' you might ask? And, since I seem to be so good at answering my own questions, I will answer this one."

  A small ripple of laughter echoed through the room. He was careful to give a slight, appreciative smile but not too big of one. He did not want to lose the mood.

  "The people we need to go after are the elite or, the best of the best, of the hacking community.

  "Like our failed war on drugs, we cannot approach this by trying to take down the thousands of five and dime dealers out there. On any given day our police forces arrest a couple of hundred of these small time dealers in every state. But we all know the best strategy is to go after the person, or people, who run the larger operations. The leaders of the drug cartel. The kingpins.

  "Now, it has already been statistically proven that the rate of drug flow into the United States has remarkably decreased every time we bring down one of these major players. So why not do the same for our Internet problem? Only carry it one step further and publicly punish these criminals, not only to the full extent of the law but perhaps even set some new precedents of punishment.

  "If we take away their heroes and punish them, then maybe the small time hackers, or hacker hopefuls, will think twice before they try this sort of thing again. Maybe then the hackers will begin to realize that the American people are tired of being victimized and are no longer willing to sit idly by while some punks cause havoc to our nation and our lives. It is time for a new plan!"

  The sound of his fist hitting the podium echoed through the room. Before the echo died the questions began with a flurry. Gillespie held up his hands for silence, smiling patiently.

  "Before we get into the questions, I would like to say that I will be presenting my agenda to Congress during the next session. I would like to go with the full support of my state and I do not think I will be disappointed in this desire.

  "Now, for your questions, I would like to present to you someone who is infinitely more qualified to answer them. Again, I would like to thank you for coming today and listening to such an old windbag. I know I tend to talk a little too much, but it is on a subject I feel, and I am sure all of you feel, strongly about. With that, I give you FBI Agent Greg Barrett. Greg."

  Gillespie stepped off the stage and headed toward his office, where a steaming cup of coffee was waiting for him. He smiled indulgently at his people and they smiled back. Today was a good day. He had the media. Now all he had to do was get the attention of the Senate. He did not foresee any problems with that. After all, he had been building favors to call in for years. And, with the media on his side, the politicians - entering into an election year - were sure to follow.

  He imagined his wife beaming at him with pride as she had for so many years before the cancer had taken her. The ever present grief took his smile and he continued to his office with his thoughts on her.

  An intern approached him with a note stating that one of his long time opponents would like to talk. As Gillespie read, he thought, ‘No doubt Senator Daniels wants to feel things out a bit to see if he might need to change sides.’

  His smile returned. God, he loved politics!

  Chapter Two

  (June 12, 1 year after the press conference – present day)

  "You ensured us that Gillespie would be knocked out of the race."

  Yuri stifled a sigh. "That is what you asked."

  The slightly nasal voice, amplified by the speaker phone, asked, "Have you been watching the news? His ratings are up! People are actually on board with his ridiculous platform. The Senate has agreed to let him move forward! How exactly does that help us with our agenda?"

  Containing his irritation, Yuri replied, "You asked my family to help you. You know our reputation. We have served you and the other families well these many years. But, we do provide this service our way. And in our time. Make no mistake about that."

  "And when exactly is this plan of yours going to unfold?"

  "It has already begun."

  Chapter Three

  "Come on dude, we need you at the next pickup game this Sunday."

  Tommy glanced at the pile of school work he had to complete in the next few weeks. "I don’t think I can, Duncan."

  "All work and no play Tommy boy! You don’t want to let the team down do you? You’re one of our best players!"

  Tommy rolled his eyes. While he was good at soccer, he knew he wasn’t that good. Duncan just wanted to make sure they had a full team.

  "Maybe next time around."

  Duncan sighed heavily. "Dude, I’d hate to have to come up there and drag you through the halls but you know I will."

  Unfortunately, Tommy knew that not only would Duncan try to do what he said, but at 6’5 and 250 pounds, he was actually capable of doing it.

  "Fine, dude. Whatever."

  Tommy hung up, turning back to his computer and the pap
er due tomorrow in his intro class to network security.

  Just two quarters into his freshman year of college and already he was loaded with homework. He had spent two months researching hackers, hacking techniques and the security holes they exploited and how to plug them. And though he had thought about reaching out to his uncle again for help, he’d refrained. He wanted to do this on his own so he could prove to himself that he was as good as Alex.

  His uncle had been hacking for several years and had done both black and white hat hacking for major government security agencies such as CERT, the cyber division of the NSA and – currently – for the National Cybersecurity Communications Integrations Center (NCCIC). Alex had once explained to Tommy that he was what was called a greyhat hacker. Or a ‘Gandalf’. Alex had grinned when he’d told Tommy that this was his term for what he did. Alex then explained that, like Gandalf in the Tolkien books, a greyhat walked both sides of the line, sometimes throwing his hat in with hackers doing what hackers did for fun but also working to stop people from breaking into the systems of the people and businesses he was hired to secure. He had earned a reputation in the security and hacker community, one well respected and envied. And Tommy wanted to be just like him.

  Of course, his uncle might not exactly approve of some of the things Tommy had been doing to reach his goal. But how else was he supposed to get experience?

  After reading his paper for the tenth time, Tommy got up to stretch. Glancing at the clock, he noted it was well after midnight and he had to be up in less than six hours for his first class of the day. He looked gratefully at the second, still empty, bed. Taking classes during the summer quarter meant he would have the room to himself for another month or two, so no one to keep awake. Unfortunately, it also meant the dorm building was nearly empty which didn't leave much in the way of a social life. Not that he could really enjoy one right now anyway.