Point of Contact

“You know the Chinese are hell-bent on expanding their military forces. They’ve been increasing their defense spending by double digits for the last twenty years, and they’re not showing any signs of slowing down. Worse, their technological advances have been staggering. They seem to match us step for step in the development of stealth fighters, radar, drones — you name it. And the hell of it is, most of their technology has been stolen from us. The PLA cyberwarfare division is second to none. They let our corporations spend billions of dollars in research and development, then steal it away from them with the stroke of a key.”

Paul nodded. “It’s worrisome.”

“Well, large companies like mine have done a pretty good job lately locking things down. We suffer thousands of hack attacks every day — most of them from low-level criminals or hacktivist malcontents, but some are quite serious, particularly the state-sponsored ones. So far our firewalls and defensive measures have proven impervious, and we have new antihacking and antivirus technologies coming on soon. But like I said, we’re a multibillion-dollar technology company. We should be good at this kind of thing.

“But as you can imagine, our government is determined to keep it from happening in the first place. By and large, American companies are getting up to speed. So the Chinese government is turning its attention to smaller foreign companies. Companies like Dalfan Technologies.”

“Do you think there’s a problem?”

“Actually, no, I don’t. I’ve been over there a couple of times when we first began exploring the option of buying them up. They have a first-rate IT department. And the man who founded the company, Gordon Yeoh Fairchild, is the son of a British expat. He’s about as pro-Western as you can get in that part of the world. But we did a little digging around and we found out he’s had some business dealings with firms in Hong Kong and on the mainland.”

“So has your company,” Paul said.

“Of course we have. We’re an interconnected global economy now. Free trade benefits everyone. The challenge in this case is a little more complex. It’s one thing for us to sell a widget to a Chinese firm — even one with ties to Beijing — because that’s a simple transaction, an exchange of product for cash. But if we merge with Dalfan, that means our software, mainframe computers, cloud servers, and other IT infrastructure will intermingle. What our friends at Langley fear is that the Chinese may have already planted software and hardware at Dalfan that might be used to break through our cyberdefenses. Sort of like inviting the fox into the henhouse without even knowing it.”

“I’m not really an IT guy, let alone an expert in cybersecurity.”

“But I know someone who is. And that’s why he gave me this.” Rhodes reached into his coat pocket and handed Paul a USB drive.

Paul pushed his glasses back up on his nose with one finger. He brought the drive close to his face for examination. “What’s loaded on here?”

“The cyberwarfare specialists at the CIA came up with a diagnostic program that can sniff out all kinds of nasty malware, worms, bots, and what have you inside of a computer system, no matter how complex. I’ve been tasked with making sure that the USB in your hands gets installed into a computer that has access to the Dalfan mainframe. Naturally, I thought of you.”

“I’m still a little bit confused. No offense, but why would the CIA give this assignment to you and not to one of their SAD operatives?”

If Paul’s question stung, Rhodes didn’t show it.

“One of the advantages of my position on the Marin Aerospace board is that I’m kept in the loop on major developments, and when it seems appropriate, I keep our government informed, especially on matters that affect national security. When the Dalfan venture was first proposed, I let Langley know.”

“So you’re spying on your own company?”

“No. I’m helping my government win the war on terror and defend against all known enemies, foreign and domestic, including the Chinese.”

Paul frowned. “Isn’t that a conflict of interest? Secretly telling the government insider information about what your own guys are doing?”

Rhodes shook his head. “Not at all. Whatever is good for my country is good for my company. But even if it were a conflict of interest, I’m a patriot, and I put my country first.” He glanced at the American flag lapel pin on Paul’s department store suit. “And I know you’re a patriot, too.”

Paul sat back, processing. “You left the Agency, what, twenty years ago?”

Rhodes smiled. “We never really leave, do we? I mean, I don’t take a paycheck from them anymore, that’s for sure. But whenever duty calls, men like us always answer.”