Doomsday Apocalypse Read online

  The rampant nuclear testing of the 1950s opened scientists’ eyes to a byproduct, for lack of a better term, that, if harnessed, could be a valuable weapon in battle. An electromagnetic pulse, or EMP, was a burst of electromagnetic energy that occurred naturally during intense geomagnetic storms from the sun. As the atomic testing showed, the same result could be generated by both a nuclear detonation or a nonnuclear EMP weapon using nuclear technology.

  The highly charged gamma rays, a form of light generated by the EMP weapon, slammed into air molecules, displacing electrons. Upon impact, the negatively charged particles circulated through the atmosphere at nearly ninety percent of the speed of light. It only took a fraction of a microsecond for the targeted area to be filled with the surge of energy.

  The higher the detonation occurred above the earth’s surface, the broader the area of impact. A low-altitude EMP could be more targeted, specifically intended to impact a smaller area.

  The electromagnetic pulse could have a variety of devastating effects depending upon the type of weapon used. Today’s modern electronics and computer devices are made up of tiny circuits that cannot withstand the powerful burst of energy. The power grid, phone and internet lines, and anything interconnected to electronics melts under the abrupt pulse of energy.

  The United States, China, and Russia led the way in developing EMP technology. Once the capability was realized, then different and varied delivery mechanisms were sought. A nuclear-tipped intercontinental ballistic missile was the first, most logical means of delivery.

  In the past decade, great advances had been made that allowed EMPs to be deployed by satellite, via directed energy weapons similar to ray guns in popular culture, and now launched from underwater, submarine drones.

  Russia, with its Kanyon project, led the way, quickly followed by the United States and China. Soon, all three nations sought to expand their underwater drone capabilities, controlled from remote destinations around the world that could launch nuclear missiles of all sizes and payloads.

  With the advent of drone warfare, nation-states could wage wars in places far from their own borders, all designed toward securing an advantage in small-scale skirmishes and counterinsurgency fights abroad.

  In the U.S., the Pentagon refers to it as drone warfare. In the U.K., military strategists call it remote warfare, which includes both drones and cyber attacks. This was considered the means to wage wars of the future. For military leaders, it was an opportunity to accomplish a strategic military objective with no loss of life to their troops. Further, it meant less public oversight and internal analysis as to whether the missions themselves were achieving their objectives. Nothing raises public scrutiny more than body bags arriving at Dover Air Force Base, especially if the mission was deemed a failure.

  As a result of this lack of oversight, in the U.S. and abroad, only those with direct involvement and knowledge of the operations would report back to the people who ordered the mission. In essence, a feedback loop of secrecy could be created, detached from criticism and accountability. The lack of transparency made independent verification of a nation’s actions near impossible.

  Plausible deniability ruled the day in a proximate war using drones.

  Chapter 4

  CityCenter Apartments

  Atlanta, Georgia

  “All right, gentlemen, let’s make one thing real clear about this op.” The former captain in the British Office for Security and Counter-Terrorism looked into the eyes of his three comrades as they prepared their gear. “We get in, place and activate our respective devices, and get out. There’ll be no radio contact, so we’re on our own inside. If you’re caught, you’re on your own too. We’ve all learned that the words plausible deniability have meaning, correct?”

  “Yeah, roger that,” mumbled one of the two Americans on his team.

  “Use the commotion and mayhem to make your exits when the time comes. Don’t leave early, because you’re sure to be caught on camera. The rally point will be at Cleopas Johnson Park to our south. Avoid walking down Northside Drive; use the neighborhood side streets instead. The feds will react quickly once the call is made to the stadium offices, and the place will be crawling once we implement the plan.”

  “Chief, we’ve never worked with our man on the inside. I don’t like trusting a mission to an unknown quantity,” commented the other American operative.

  “Yeah, I hate surprises, too.” The first man echoed his concern.

  “Our inside man is rock solid. He’s been employed here for a couple of years and is fully aware of the ramifications of the mission. Now, remember, we have a limited window of opportunity to be at the Magnum Street loading dock. Your uniforms and credentials are in these duffle bags. They’re designed to fit easily over your existing clothing, so you can discard them once inside.”

  After opening his assigned duffle, the Australian member of the team spoke up for the first time. “Very official looking. They’ve got the Mercedes logo on the sleeves and maintenance stitched across the pocket.”

  The team leader nodded. “They’re actual uniforms. Like your credentials, they’ll give us the cover we need to get in. Once you’re in position, drop the uniforms and mind your watches. We’ve got this perfectly choreographed, so don’t lose track of time.”

  The team leader checked his own watch. They still had over an hour to make the short walk from the CityCenter Apartments on the west side of Mercedes-Benz Stadium to the loading dock. The men would walk in pairs as if they were co-workers reporting for duty at the concert.

  He looked at his hardened operatives, who’d performed so well under pressure for him in all corners of the planet. “We’ve got plenty of time. Any questions?”

  One of the Americans spoke up. “Yeah, chief, I’ve got one. Listen, I’m a country music guy, and I’ve got no use for Beyoncé or her husband, Jay-Z. So don’t get me wrong, I’d take issue with us screwin’ up a Kenny Chesney concert. Why do you think this is the target?”

  The leader walked away and ran his fingers through his hair. He was only able to speculate, but based upon the text message instructions he’d received, and the source, he suspected he knew the reason.

  “Listen, you guys know the drill. It’s like your old Budweiser commercial—why ask why? Our employers pay us well. They give us the latest in high-tech gear. In fact, it’s stuff Her Majesty’s Armed Forces know nothing about.”

  One of the American men began to chuckle. “I bet the chi-comms know all about it. Those hackers have all of our secrets.”

  “Well, maybe so,” the team leader continued. “Regardless, I wasn’t provided a reason, and anything else is speculation on my part.”

  The American shrugged and appeared indifferent. “I’m just curious, that’s all. Regardless of the motivation, it’s gonna fit a pattern of concert attacks in recent years. They’ll be chasing their tails, pointing the fingers of blame.”

  The Australian spoke up. “You’re right on that, mate. They never figured out the reasoning behind the Mandalay Bar shooting in Vegas. The Rascal Flatts concert in Indy was evacuated due to an anonymous security threat.”

  The Brit added, “And in Manchester, the Ariana Grande concert suicide bomber was identified as a bloody Islamist. For our purposes, there will be no discernible reason for the attack, so it can’t be tied to us or our employer.”

  The men sat in silence for a moment as they contemplated his words. Then one of the Americans asked, “And do you have any idea who our employer is on this job?”

  “I do, and no, I won’t tell you. Trust me, you don’t want to know.”

  The men shrugged and went about their preparations. They studied a printed map of the arena and confirmed their assignments. After a final sweep of the apartment that had been rented for them a month earlier, they gathered any trace of their personal effects and made their way through the parking lot of the apartment complex, systematically dropping trash bags of clothing, leftover food, and the map of the st
adium into the dumpsters. Despite it being the New Year’s holiday, it was a Thursday night, and the waste management trucks would be through to empty the dumpsters around ten o’clock. Any trace evidence of their presence would be incinerated just before midnight, when the fun began.

  Chapter 5

  Undisclosed Residential Location

  The messages were always cryptic. Coded in such a way that certain sets of eyes could understand them all, while others were more compartmentalized based upon their sphere of influence. Everyone had a job to do. Some required physicality and military training. Others simply used the powers afforded them by way of their position. And then some, like the lonely young man sitting in the dimly lit basement of his home and surrounded by computer monitors, used their expertise. The common thread between them all? A sense of duty and the ability to respond on a moment’s notice.

  The message was short, but its words had a profound meaning.

  !!!mG4VJxZNCI 12/31 19:34:28

  As the snow cascaded downward,

  The wild rides halted immediately.

  One instance among many more,

  As we seek Justitia Omnibus.

  Fare thee well.

  MM

  He set his phone aside with the message on the 4chan chat board still in plain view. He reached to his side to pull open the desk drawer. At first, he hesitated, not sure if he was ready to fulfill his handler’s wishes. He’d been paid well and given everything he needed.

  But he’d contemplated his exit strategy on many occasions. He’d begun to stockpile supplies and cash. He had a vehicle that would go anywhere, under any circumstances. Although he was not an outdoorsman, he’d studied how to survive in the woods.

  Not on these computers, of course. He was sure he was watched. His keystrokes monitored. Prying eyes were everywhere, and not just through camera lenses. His handlers were capable of anything.

  The small black book had been given to him after he’d proven his loyalty. To be sure, he was once a rising star within the ranks at INSCOM, the United States Army Intelligence and Security Command garrisoned at Fort Belvoir, Virginia.

  He had come out of high school as a broken teen. Constantly bullied as a nerd, and due to his being undersized compared to his classmates, the seventeen-year-old was not ready for adulthood. He worked on the Geek Squad at Best Buy for a while, but his real passion was not repairing computers. He preferred hacking them instead.

  Just to be clear, he never engaged in criminal enterprise, at least not in his mind. Yes, he was guilty of accessing unsuspecting coeds’ wireless cams on their laptops and watching them from time to time. Later, he decided to try his hand at cyber intrusions upon small businesses’ computer networks. He was more of a gremlin than a full-blown hacker up to nefarious activities.

  None of this paid the bills, however, and he soon became bored. With little going for him, he walked into the Army Recruiting Office in Tampa, Florida, and enlisted. It was a decision that changed his life.

  He entered basic training and found himself overwhelmed by the rigors of the Army. In need of warm bodies due to attrition in recent years, the Army kept him in the program. One fateful day, he was having a conversation with another following their successful completion of the third and final field-training exercise known as the Forge, when he brought up his computer acumen as it related to hacking.

  A senior drill sergeant pulled him aside and began to quiz him about his statements and expertise. A day later, he was sitting in the offices at INSCOM in Fort Belvoir, speaking with two of their technology personnel. The rest was history.

  He moved on from basic training and took a position in the electronic and information warfare areas of responsibility at INSCOM. There, he was groomed under the careful, watchful eyes of the Military Intelligence Corps.

  Four years later, he was at the top of his game, assisting Army Intelligence in their never-ending challenge to keep track of Chinese and Russian military assets. At one point he was brought on board to conduct pen testing, a term used by hackers for penetration testing of a computer’s network, looking for vulnerabilities and security weaknesses.

  He was in his element. He had a process, which he developed, that was ultimately adopted by others within his unit. He spent an inordinate amount of time conducting reconnaissance by gathering information about the targeted system. He would identify possible entry points, conduct several penetration tests, and record his findings for his superiors.

  Using comparison models of other systems, he would eventually create a map, so to speak, of the target computer system. To look for weaknesses, he’d systematically test an organization’s security policy compliance, the computer operator’s security awareness, and finally, the target’s ability to identify and respond to his intrusions.

  The current administration turned the nation’s cyber-warfare capabilities from a defensive posturing to being placed within its weapons arsenal. For decades, the Russians had used cyber attacks on critical infrastructure as a precursor to war. The Chinese preferred to steal military secrets with their efforts. INSCOM was tasked with following the Russians’ method of military tactics.

  He became an expert in accessing and potentially shutting down critical infrastructure on Russian targets, whether it be utilities, communications, financial markets, or transportation systems. In order to gain advantage in a military conflict, crippling one of these major components in a nation’s critical infrastructure became a primary strategy in war planning.

  He was becoming the best in his field, respected by his co-workers and appreciated by his superiors.

  Then he was kidnapped.

  It was never the intention of the kidnappers to cause him bodily injury. His life certainly wasn’t worth ransoming. He was, as his kidnappers assured him, a potentially valuable asset. During the twelve hours he remained tied to a chair and blindfolded, he was assured that he wasn’t going to be killed. They only sought two things from him, and he needed to understand their request was serious.

  Cooperation and loyalty.

  He asked if they expected him to betray his government. He insisted that he was a soldier and would never turn on the United States of America. He was assured that the plans they had in store for him would not require such a betrayal. He was simply told trust the plan.

  So he did, and for the last nine months, he’d followed instructions and was paid handsomely for it. He still reported to duty at INSCOM, but he fulfilled his obligations to his nameless, faceless handlers. The ones who watched him.

  And although he’d grown comfortable with the arrangement, he knew someday his time clock might be punched, or he’d have to disappear, hopefully on his terms.

  Chapter 6

  Undisclosed Residential Location

  He opened his little black book, as he unimaginatively called it, and studied the initial sequence of codes and numbers. The first three exclamation marks indicated a level of priority, with one being the lowest and three the highest. The date and time stamp was generated by the chat board.

  The message was encrypted as always, and he looked into his book to decode the string of characters and numbers. He underlined the ones of significance based upon the code sequence and key provided to him.

  !!!mG4VJxZNCI 12/31 19:34:28

  As the snow cascaded downward,

  The wild rides halted immediately.

  One instance among many more,

  As we seek Justitia Omnibus.

  Fare thee well.

  MM

  The number 4 represented the mode of delivery, in this case, the 4chan website, a social media site that allowed users to post anonymously. It was split into various chat boards discussing such topics as sports, entertainment, and politics. A similar site known as 8chan was also used from time to time. It differed slightly in that 4chan was moderated by administrators, and 8chan generally was not.

  He thumbed through the sequence of letters and studied the sentences. Only certain words were considered
important and part of a potential directive. To the casual conspiracy-minded observer, reading the post as a whole, they might point out the phrase Justitia Omnibus. This was translated from Latin to read justice for all in English. He also knew it by another meaning.

  The Seal of the District of Columbia depicted Lady Justice hanging a wreath on a statue of George Washington. The motto of the District was Justitia Omnibus, justice for all. Others might arrive at this conclusion on their own, but only he knew it made the District the designated target of his activities.

  He finished decoding the rest of the statement and set his glasses on his desk. He rolled his neck around his shoulders to relieve some stress and flexed his fingers. To his left was an undercounter refrigerator. He retrieved a miniature bottle of Tropicana orange juice and took a sip.

  He spoke to himself aloud. “Last chance, pal. Whatcha gonna do, boy?” He could’ve shouted at the top of his lungs and not a soul on earth could hear him unless, of course, his watchers had their own form of listening device within his basement, which he affectionately dubbed the Cave.

  After another moment consumed with conflict and introspection, he scooted his chair up to the modular desk and ran his fingers across his keyboard. He’d reached a decision.

  This was a victimless hack in his mind. He wasn’t directly killing anyone. In fact, in his mind, it was slightly humorous to derail the plans of the partygoers who were out carousing and enjoying adult beverages on New Year’s Eve. He wasn’t going to any parties, nor was he invited to any. There was no local pub nearby to ring in the New Year with a hearty chorus of “Auld Lang Syne.” Why shouldn’t some other people be miserable like I am?