“Where?” I asked.
Glenn looked solemnly at me. “Right here. The Law Office of Bryce Seagraves.”
17
Learning that hackers had stolen data off my computers staggered me. Cyberspies in the People’s Republic of China copied every file off my server — client emails, confidential memos, legal briefs, and all my personal information. The People’s Liberation Army downloaded a complete record of my professional and private life. I had not seen it coming.
Somewhere in Shanghai, intelligence officers searched through my digital files for the Remora Shadow, as well as for other information they could use against me or my clients.
I stared blankly at the kitchen cabinets, but my eyes could not focus. My vision was trapped in a gray-sided tunnel. I leaned hard against a countertop, unable to move and unsure where to turn. My heart hammered a jagged rhythm that surged throughout my neck and temples.
“Why me?” I whispered to myself in disbelief, not expecting Glenn to hear me.
Glenn answered anyway. “You’re Marisa Dupree’s lawyer. The PLA thinks you might have the plans.”
I shook my head, trying to process all this.
Glenn threw back some coffee. “Tell me you don’t have them.”
“Absolutely not.”
“Well, that’s good at least,” he said with pale encouragement.
None of this should have surprised me. Sheriff Tompkins suggested the same thing when she asked if Marisa had given me a flash drive or any documents from Benton Dynamics. Tompkins mentioned that clients sometimes hand over evidence to their attorneys for safekeeping before trial, but I had not received anything like that from Richard Kostas or Marisa Dupree. I kicked myself for not even contemplating a cyber breach.
The Chinese hackers broadsided me. How they would use my computer files remained a disturbing question. The PLA compromised my clients’ confidential files. Calling the ethics hotline made sense, but no one would be at the state bar association on a Sunday evening. With this fact pattern, a volunteer ethics attorney would have been as lost as I was right now. More likely, that attorney would think I was wearing a tinfoil hat.
Placing my malpractice insurance carrier on notice was another option, but by telling anyone about this, I would expose Glenn. He would not only lose his job and security clearance, but also face prosecution. My friend and former coworker had no authorization to disclose the NSA operation that discovered the hack. Other than with Glenn, I could not discuss this with anyone. I needed time to think. Time was not on my side.
Straightening up, I felt numb in both knees. I turned to Glenn. “What should I do?”
He set his coffee mug on the faux marble countertop. “Well, first of all, change your passwords. Really solid ones. I’ll help, but one computer at a time. No one can know I was here.”
“Okay, though let’s face it. The damage is done.”
“Yeah,” he said, “but you can’t roll over. Passwords are a start. Tomorrow, hire a security firm. Clean your system, install a really tough firewall, and upgrade your protocols. The PLA must’ve planted malware to let them back in whenever they want. Standard procedure. You’ll need to wipe your CPU and reload from back-ups.”
With my bank account on life support, I had no idea how to afford a computer security company. There really was no option. Hello, credit cards. That assumed, of course, I still had an available credit limit and the cards would not explode into plastic bits when I ran them. My breathing slowed. My thoughts started to clear.
Glenn said, “It’s a lot, but you’ve got to. The Chinese are probably not the only ones trying to scan your hard drives.”
He was right. The FBI had arrested two Iranian spies near Benton Dynamics last week. A Russian van had tried to run me off the highway, maybe for a roadside shakedown or a blackmail threat. Now the Chinese had stolen my digital presence. Foreign intelligence agencies were searching for an underwater drone that could knock out an entire submarine fleet. International spies had placed a target on Benton Dynamics and the surrounding town of Bridgeford. By taking on Marisa’s case, I had stepped dead center into that target.
Glenn rubbed the stubble on his chin. “When the hackers don’t find what they’re looking for on your computers … well, you know what’s next. Their top floor will consider other options.”
“Like?”
He furrowed his brows. “Like a physical copy of the plans here in your law office. Or a flash drive. You need to be ready, Bryce.”
“There’s nothing like that here,” I protested.
“They don’t know that. They could be coming. Are you with me?”
“Yeah, I suppose.”
“Let’s get started.”
We locked the front and back doors of my house and slid the deadbolts firmly in place. Next, we made sure all the windows were shut and the locks secured. Glenn closed the blinds on a first floor window, so I followed his lead and did the same as we worked room to room.
We eventually entered my office. He pointed to my chair. I slowly sat down in the leather padding like a cruise ship grinding against the side of an iceberg. I hesitated to touch the keyboard, but only for a second. After I logged onto my laptop, we reset my passwords. He came up with crazy sequences of numbers, letters, and characters that I jotted down on a yellow legal pad. Otherwise, they would have flown instantly out of my head. We cleared my search history and ran security scans for viruses and malware. Then Glenn sat in my chair and took some other steps I did not understand, but I figured he was upgrading my security and downloading encryption protocols off the internet.
Next we fixed Hailey’s computer, which meant that first thing tomorrow morning, I would need to explain why I changed her password. Whatever I would tell her could not expose Glenn. Although I trusted Hailey,
