for hours. Perhaps though it was because of the dead silence from the media too, and he’d had his second monitor displaying CNN Headline News, BBC News and Al Jazeera News all night long.
It didn’t make sense because what he was seeing indicated there was some kind of high-stakes operation going on. He hadn’t seen such a flood of data coming out of the Med since the uprising that ousted and killed Libya’s dictator, Muammar Gaddafi.
“Morning in Utah. Afternoon in the Med,” Dave said aloud as he reminded himself of the 9-hour time difference. He started backtracking through the data to see when it all began. It didn’t take long and soon he wrote 5:18 AM in large block letters on a yellow sticky note that he stuck to the lower left corner of his primary monitor. On another sticky note, he wrote 5:42 PM—the current time in the Med. This note he stuck to the lower right corner of his primary monitor. The notes were reminders to himself that he needed to fill in the gaps between to understand what was happening.
He told himself that none of this was directly related to his current job, that he should turn over what he’d uncovered to his old friends working the Mediterranean desk at NSA headquarters in Ft. Meade.
But what he was seeing was like a giftwrapped puzzle and he was for once in his life in the right place at the right time. He’d created the algorithms and search interfaces that sifted through the exabytes of data being gathered by the NSA every single day. He knew what he needed to do to unravel the puzzle.
He also needed to tread carefully. The NSA, CIA and other covert intelligence agencies, foreign and domestic, had dozens of missions going on around the world at any one time. If he’d stumbled into one of those and inadvertently exposed it, all hell would break lose.
But what if it isn’t a covert op? What if some sort of major attack is underway?
Jumping up from his chair, he paced back and forth in his little cubicle.
The stakes are high, inconceivably high. If I do this and things go wrong, I really will get fired. For real. It won’t be just another panic attack.
Dave exited his cubicle, walking past the dozens of other workspaces in which other specialists were handling other aspects of their Big Data mission.
He walked down the stairs to the first floor and went outside. He stood there a moment breathing the clean mountain air, with the morning sun on his face.
His car was right there in the parking lot. All he had to do was get in it and drive home. By the time he ate, slept and woke, this would all be over and whatever it was he could pretend he never knew anything about it beforehand.
He told himself this but knew he couldn’t do it. He thought of 9/11. How the agency had credible intelligence that something big was coming. How the agency hadn’t been able to use that information to stop what happened from happening.
Chapter 18
Mediterranean Sea Afternoon, Tuesday, 19 June
“Belay that,” Captain Howard said. “Evers, you’ve something else to tell us, so out with it.”
Scott scratched at his forehead. The adrenaline rush was wearing off and he was suddenly feeling the day’s wear and tear again. “I believe I do. A hunch. Something I saw while I was under.”
“Under?” the captain asked.
Scott took a step toward the master chief and stood at the chief’s side as a show of solidarity. “Edie and I were on the bridge with Captain Pendleton when it started. When I saw incoming RPGs, I pulled Edie over the rail and we went under. We dove down to avoid the shockwave and stayed under as all hell broke loose. Edie and I are both experienced divers and free divers, so we can hold our breath longer than most. Still, we couldn’t have been under for more than a few minutes.
“By the time we surfaced and came
It didn’t make sense because what he was seeing indicated there was some kind of high-stakes operation going on. He hadn’t seen such a flood of data coming out of the Med since the uprising that ousted and killed Libya’s dictator, Muammar Gaddafi.
“Morning in Utah. Afternoon in the Med,” Dave said aloud as he reminded himself of the 9-hour time difference. He started backtracking through the data to see when it all began. It didn’t take long and soon he wrote 5:18 AM in large block letters on a yellow sticky note that he stuck to the lower left corner of his primary monitor. On another sticky note, he wrote 5:42 PM—the current time in the Med. This note he stuck to the lower right corner of his primary monitor. The notes were reminders to himself that he needed to fill in the gaps between to understand what was happening.
He told himself that none of this was directly related to his current job, that he should turn over what he’d uncovered to his old friends working the Mediterranean desk at NSA headquarters in Ft. Meade.
But what he was seeing was like a giftwrapped puzzle and he was for once in his life in the right place at the right time. He’d created the algorithms and search interfaces that sifted through the exabytes of data being gathered by the NSA every single day. He knew what he needed to do to unravel the puzzle.
He also needed to tread carefully. The NSA, CIA and other covert intelligence agencies, foreign and domestic, had dozens of missions going on around the world at any one time. If he’d stumbled into one of those and inadvertently exposed it, all hell would break lose.
But what if it isn’t a covert op? What if some sort of major attack is underway?
Jumping up from his chair, he paced back and forth in his little cubicle.
The stakes are high, inconceivably high. If I do this and things go wrong, I really will get fired. For real. It won’t be just another panic attack.
Dave exited his cubicle, walking past the dozens of other workspaces in which other specialists were handling other aspects of their Big Data mission.
He walked down the stairs to the first floor and went outside. He stood there a moment breathing the clean mountain air, with the morning sun on his face.
His car was right there in the parking lot. All he had to do was get in it and drive home. By the time he ate, slept and woke, this would all be over and whatever it was he could pretend he never knew anything about it beforehand.
He told himself this but knew he couldn’t do it. He thought of 9/11. How the agency had credible intelligence that something big was coming. How the agency hadn’t been able to use that information to stop what happened from happening.
Chapter 18
Mediterranean Sea Afternoon, Tuesday, 19 June
“Belay that,” Captain Howard said. “Evers, you’ve something else to tell us, so out with it.”
Scott scratched at his forehead. The adrenaline rush was wearing off and he was suddenly feeling the day’s wear and tear again. “I believe I do. A hunch. Something I saw while I was under.”
“Under?” the captain asked.
Scott took a step toward the master chief and stood at the chief’s side as a show of solidarity. “Edie and I were on the bridge with Captain Pendleton when it started. When I saw incoming RPGs, I pulled Edie over the rail and we went under. We dove down to avoid the shockwave and stayed under as all hell broke loose. Edie and I are both experienced divers and free divers, so we can hold our breath longer than most. Still, we couldn’t have been under for more than a few minutes.
“By the time we surfaced and came
Similar Books
