“Then it’s set,” I said. “We’ll get together again this week, and you’ll let me know your schedule.”
“Sounds great,” Jennifer said. “You’ve got my number.”
And she had mine.
The storm had subsided enough for us to walk to her sedan. Jennifer pressed her key fob, and the locks popped. I opened the door for her. She leaned into me and gently kissed my cheek before climbing into her car. Despite the rain that had soaked us, a faint reminder of her jasmine perfume came back to me as she drove away.
My Barracuda quickly got me back to my Victorian house, where I jogged up the wet concrete walkway and unlocked the front door of the law firm. When I reached inside for the light switch, a strange, uneasy feeling came over me, as if someone had broken in and now lurked in the darkness. There was no reason for me to suspect burglars, but the crawling feeling up the base of my spine was real. My eyes had not adjusted, so I clicked on the foyer light. No one was there. I listened for sounds down the corridor. Only the patter of rain on the roof shingles broke the stillness and the silence.
I slowly stepped heel-to-toe to the doorway of each room, turning on lights and scanning inside for intruders. A clap of thunder shook the beams of the house and made me jump out of my skin. Back in my office, I walked quietly on the carpet and retrieved a souvenir baseball bat that I kept behind my desk.
The wooden stairs to the second floor creaked with every step I took. Cautiously entering each bedroom, I made sure no one else was in the house. At the final room, I figured that my imagination had gotten the better of me. Leaning the baseball bat against a bookcase, I went into my bathroom and dried off with a cotton towel. I changed into comfortable clothes, went back downstairs, and brewed a half-pot of decaffeinated coffee. The rich aroma filled the kitchen. The hot coffee took away the chill that lingered throughout my hands and feet.
A pounding knock rattled the front door. I could not remember if I had locked the deadbolt. After a few seconds, the loud knocking started again.
At the peephole, I saw a man with a shaved head and a leather jacket shaking off the rain. It was Glenn Bernthal, my old friend from NSA. I yanked open the heavy door that always stuck in wet weather.
“Hey, come in. What’re you doing here?”
“Look, Bryce, we need to talk,” Glenn said gravely as he entered the foyer.
“Okay, sure. Why not call?”
“Better in person. You alone?” His eyes scanned over my shoulders toward the hall and doorways.
“Yeah. What’s going on?” I asked, turning to see why he was looking behind me. No one was there.
“A lot. What I’m about to tell you is … well, more than I should. You know what they can do to me. When I got back from racquetball yesterday, NSA detected a major cyberattack from China. You remember PLA Unit 61398?”
“Of course. The best hackers in the People’s Liberation Army. Based in Shanghai. What about them?”
“Well, the PLA is sophisticated enough that we can’t trace anything directly to them. We tagged the attack to their usual proxies and identified some new ones.”
“I’m lost, Glenn. What’s this got to do with me?”
“Hear me out, okay? When I started my shift, NSA was fighting a major cyber-assault. It came in two waves and focused on four targets. The first two were Norfolk Naval Station and Benton Dynamics.”
“So my lawsuit then?”
“Yup,” Glenn replied. “The Chinese are after the plans for the Remora Shadow.”
“Did they get them?”
“No, cyber-defenses held at both places, but the PLA tried to get around them every way possible. They’re still probing back doors, so it’s not over. Not by a long shot.”
“You’re sure of the source?”
“Definitely. The best part is we’ve learned a lot about how they carry out attacks. Sources. Methods. New proxies. Good intel, overall.”
“Okay,” I said, hoping he would get to the point.
“Man, I came here as soon as my shift ended. You got anything to drink?”
“Just made coffee, unless you want something stronger?”
“No, coffee is good.” Glenn took off his leather jacket and hung it on the coatrack. “So far, the PLA hasn’t breached the naval base or that defense contractor.”
“You think they heard about the Remora Shadow from that Project Transparrior website?”
“Most likely.” He shrugged. “NSA is on full alert. We notified the Navy and Benton Dynamics. So far, all the blocks are holding. But then we watched the Chinese move onto softer targets.”
“Such as?”
Glenn slowly shook his head. “Next they went for Marisa Dupree’s home computers. Yup, that’s right. Your new client. Guess they thought she might’ve backed-up the stolen plans on her hard drive.”
“So they know about the lawsuit, probably from electronic court records. They find anything?”
“Nope,” Glenn replied as he followed me into the kitchen. “Came up empty, as far as we can tell. Her laptop has been shut down. Offline for days. But they scanned what she stored on the cloud. That’s where we decoded their search parameters.”
“What were they looking for?” I asked.
“An experimental underwater drone, of course. The Remora Shadow, but the PLA struck out.”
Grabbing a mug from the cabinet, I said, “That’s good. Marisa claims she’s got nothing to do with this. At least the Chinese didn’t prove her a liar today.”
“Yeah, not today. But she still might have the plans on her laptop or a KEL drive that she stole.”
“I suppose,” I said, filling a mug of coffee for him. “And the fourth target?”
“That’s why I drove across the Bay Bridge in this massive thunderstorm.
