Hacked: The First SimCavalier Trilogy: Near future high tech cyber crime thrillers Read online

  HACKED

  THE FIRST SIMCAVALIER TRILOGY

  Kate Baucherel

  SimCavalier Book One: Bitcoin Hurricane

  SimCavalier Book Two: Hacked Future

  SimCavalier Book Three: Tangled Fortunes

  Published by Sixth Element Publishing

  on behalf of Kate Baucherel

  Sixth Element Publishing

  Arthur Robinson House

  13-14 The Green

  Billingham TS23 1EU

  Tel: +44 1642 360253

  www.6epublishing.net

  Copyright © 2021 by Kate Baucherel

  Bitcoin Hurricane (SimCavalier Book One)

  First published in Great Britain in 2017 by Sixth Element Publishing

  Copyright © 2017 by Kate Baucherel

  Hacked Future (SimCavalier Book Two)

  First published in Great Britain in 2018 by Sixth Element Publishing

  Copyright © 2018 by Kate Baucherel

  Tangled Fortunes (SimCavalier Book Three)

  First published in Great Britain in 2020 by Sixth Element Publishing

  Copyright © 2020 by Kate Baucherel

  Kate Baucherel asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording and/or otherwise without the prior written permission of the publishers.

  By Kate Baucherel:

  The SimCavalier series

  Book 1: Bitcoin Hurricane

  Book 2: Hacked Future

  Book 3: Tangled Fortunes

  Book 4: Critical Nexus (coming soon)

  Harvey Duckman Presents… Short Stories

  Gridlock (A SimCavalier Origins story)

  White Christmas

  Finch

  Parrot Radio (A Finch story)

  Xanthe (A SimCavalier Origins story)

  Firebird (A Finch story)

  The Eagle’s Flight (A Finch story)

  Non-Fiction

  Blockchain Hurricane:

  Origins, Applications and Future of Blockchain and Cryptocurrency

  Poles Apart: Challenges for Business in the Digital Age

  What’s Hot in Blockchain and Crypto Volumes 1&2

  Book One: Bitcoin Hurricane

  The Worm

  SimCavalier

  A Warning

  Homecoming

  Run and Hide

  Follow the Money

  Exposure

  Salvaged Honour

  Hurricane Season

  Turning up the Heat

  Into the Blue

  Blackout

  Acknowledgements

  Book Two: Hacked Future

  Prologue

  Secrets and Lies

  Eden

  Teamwork

  City of Light

  Contagion

  The Cuckoo Contract

  Transformation

  A Glass Ceiling

  Rite of Passage

  The Admin

  Connections

  Entrapment

  Acknowledgements

  Book Three: Tangled Fortunes

  Northern Lights

  Pasar and the Piper

  Chasing Wraiths

  Snake River

  Decisions

  Cloverleaf

  Revelations

  Suspicions

  Connections

  Enemies at the Gate

  Sleeping Dragon

  Changing Fortunes

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  BITCOIN HURRICANE

  SimCavalier Book One

  Kate Baucherel

  1: The Worm

  The worm crept through the virtual spaces of the world, threading itself imperceptibly through fibres and circuits, spreading silently across networks. It travelled patiently, carefully, a parasite replicating by laying eggs in host after host, spreading its presence exponentially around the globe. Its larvae would lie dormant for days, waiting for the opportunity to leap a new void, until the file in which the code slept was emailed to an unsuspecting recipient, and the journey continued.

  Sometimes the worm landed in the lush breeding ground of a large institution, spreading across all the interconnected devices, taking advantage of gaps in outdated operating systems and in ancient software that unsuspecting users had clung to over the years. It slid unnoticed through ecosystems of unsecured smart devices, household appliances falling prey to the intruder thanks to manufacturers who cut corners and costs in the race to expand the Internet of Things. It crept into software companies, hitching a ride on downloads, and from there spread outwards like feathery seeds, riding on the wind of upgrades installed by trusting users.

  At other times, it came up short, storming bastions protected by strong firewalls, passcodes, and the constant patrolling of the virtual ramparts by competent, conscientious cyber security troops; the worm kept probing for an opening, persisting in its attack until a slip, a trip, a minor human error, the simple click of an email, compromised even the best procedures and protocols.

  A malicious little bundle of binary code, the worm was no empathetic artificial intelligence: it had no conscious sense of purpose, but was doing its job well. The surrogate offspring of a power in the shadows, carried to term by a scratch team of hungry developers commissioned on the Dark Web, it was born of greed and poverty. The only way out of the slums created by the fall of traditional industry, the devaluation of hard currency, the rising of the seas, the migration from extreme heat, and global economic upheaval was to embrace the digital world and code your way to freedom. The best underground developers commanded the highest fees; their employers played for the highest stakes.

  Now, the worm was on the move. Its owners could not track its progress in its dormant state. They simply had to be patient and make their plans around the predetermined moment of activation.

  •

  Sir Simon Winchester glowered at the wall of blank monitors for a moment, cursing under his breath, then turned to face his board members who had gathered hurriedly in the sumptuous and ancient oak-panelled room. In his decades of service to the bank, he had watched the fallout from wave upon wave of cyber attacks: the calls for robust systems, the horror at loss of data, the scramble of rivals to salvage their reputations as they went to the wall. As chief executive, one of his first and strongest commitments had been to reinforce and stabilise protection. Attacks never ceased: the bank simply had to be prepared.

  “Current status, Bill?” he enquired levelly of the chief technology officer.

  “Ransomware attack, activated twelve minutes ago,” replied the CTO. “Pretty standard stuff, I think. We’re still identifying the point of entry to our systems. There are global reports coming in over tech networks but nothing has gone public on the news channels yet.”

  “It helps that it’s late in the day in the UK and Europe. That’ll reduce the immediate impact,” replied Sir Simon.

  Bill nodded. “Good timing for us tonight, although it’s starting to hit the States now. That’ll cause a lot more trouble, and it’s only Wednesday.”

  The bank’s head of trading spoke up. “Cryptocurrency trading showed a spike in the minutes before the first reports came through, so there are some theories that it could be a targeted attack on the banking sector. Bill, what’s your take on that?”

  “Not sure. There is some reported fallou
t in other industries, but there’s no clear indication of what weakness is being exploited yet.”

  Bill looked worried. He turned to Sir Simon. “This one’s spreading like wildfire internally, faster than we can close the gates. It’s digging into some of the older software right at the heart of our operations. I need backup on this; we have our specialist team on standby.”

  Sir Simon nodded. They needed to react fast to neutralise the threat and get back to full operations. “Bring them in now, Bill. We need this virus closed down and cleaned out as fast as possible. Make the call.”

  Make the call? Bill winced at the anachronism, then nodded and pressed his thumb to a biometric scanner on his smartscreen. Accessing a private, uncompromised network, he sent a single word alert to a blockchain. A response dropped into the same block in seconds, completing the transaction and sealing the contract. The team was on the way.

  Less than an hour later, two strangers were ushered into the boardroom. A young man in a grey hoodie stepped forwards and shook the hand of the CEO. “Good evening, Sir Simon. Ross White.” He indicated his silent companion. “My colleague, Cameron Silvera.”

  Cameron stepped forward. “Sorry to hear about this disruption, sir. We’ll tackle the security breach in due course; that’s history. Our priority is to neutralise the threat. The team is setting up downstairs. We’ll keep you in the loop.”

  Sir Simon nodded. “Anything you need, just ask.”

  •

  An unassuming, middle-aged man sat alone at a round metal table outside a small coffee shop, slowly sipping an Americano. It was late morning. The pavements were quiet, and all the other tables at the café empty. The early rush of Thursday’s commuters was over, and lunchtime was not far away. A shaft of weak sunlight glinted off the metal chairs under the café’s awning.

  His gaze fell on a harassed-looking woman, slightly overweight, her smart skirt straining at the waist and an ID badge dangling carelessly on a red lanyard, as she crossed the road towards the café and headed for the counter inside, pulling a smartscreen from her pocket.

  “Gotcha!” exclaimed the observer as he fingered the scanning device tucked under his table. Any moment now, his mark would be firing up her network.

  The latest cyber attack was causing havoc around the globe. There were rumours of a banking system crisis. Crypto transactions were running slow, with the more volatile digital currencies suspended altogether. The small network of legacy ATMs had been reporting problems dispensing old bank notes, which were still in use in some quarters where the digital world had not been fully embraced. Cyber security teams worldwide had been fighting to arrest the spread of the latest virus since it first hit the news last night. It looked like the attack had been slowed, but not in time for the businesses or the man in the street caught up in the mess. Shame for them, he thought, but this was the opportunity he’d been waiting for. They finally had a solid tip-off. They were going to find the man, this time. The next thing he needed in the hunt was an inside view, and the key was within reach.

  Rushing into the café, the woman barely noticed another city worker grabbing a well-earned few minutes of peace on his break. All hell was breaking loose in the bank, and now she had to deal with an urgent message from the kids’ school as well. Returning to work after a few years’ break had seemed like a good idea at the time. So much had changed, and she was struggling to keep up. She ordered a skinny latte and a triple chocolate muffin, refuelling for the next few hours of her shift. The machine behind the counter whirred into action, and a roboserver selected her cake from a display and placed it on a waiting tray. Heading to a comfortable sofa and small wooden table in the corner, she thumbed her screen to life and scanned for a connection. Stretching to relieve aching muscles, she smiled tiredly at the friendly human waiter as her coffee and cake arrived. There was a discreet ‘ping!’ from her screen as the wifi connection opened. She logged back in to the work network and settled down to deal with her personal emails.

  A discreet Bluetooth speaker chirruped in the watcher’s ear. “She’s picked up the connection… into the network… delivering the package now… okay, Andy, all clear.”

  Slipping the hidden device into his pocket, the man abandoned the dregs of his coffee and strolled nonchalantly away towards a waiting autocar.

  •

  Cameron groaned as the radio sparked into life. Woken from deep sleep in the darkness, disoriented, it took a few moments to come to. An activity sensor embedded in the still dark lightbulb automatically set the kettle on the other side of the wall to boil. Coffee was more essential to Cameron than light in the morning.

  Hearing movement, a small black and white cat hopped up onto the bed and began kneading ecstatically, purring with the delight of a pet who knows its meal ticket has been roused and breakfast is not far away. Cameron stroked its head idly; the purring redoubled.

  Snatches of news tumbled from the speakers in the wall by the bed, making no sense yet. It had been a tough thirty-six hours for Cameron, delivering payback in the form of sore eyes, dry mouth, and an aching back. The most recent cyber attack had caught yet another legacy system with its pants down, hidden deep and half-forgotten inside an apparently ultra-modern bank. Cameron’s team had been working round the clock to limit the spread of infection. Who cared where it had come from – Asian tigers, Slavic trolls, the favelas of Rio de Janeiro, or bored high school dropouts – the ripples of disruption were slowing, thanks to a flash of classic Cameron intuition marking the first significant win of the battle, and the combined efforts of threat intelligence teams around the world to neutralise the virus. Snatching a few hours’ sleep might have seemed to be an ill-afforded luxury, but it was a necessity. Tired teams made mistakes. Everyone had to be rested and ready to make leaps of logic in containing, defusing, and mopping up after the threat.

  The sounds from the radio gradually formed themselves into words. “I come to pick up my money and they said I can’t, there’s been a cyber attack. I don’t know what one of them even is,” complained a strident voice. “Why isn’t it working? Why don’t they do something?”

  Cameron flung back the covers in disgust, eliciting a mutter of protest from a slumbering form, and a startled squeak from the cat, dislodged from its cosy nest. Cameron was already half way to the kitchen as the kettle steamed.

  Cameron reached into the cupboard to select a clean bowl, grabbed the nearest box of cereal, and turned to the tiny but serviceable refrigerator to find some milk. Despite embracing all things digital and working in tech, Cameron held the very clear opinion that while a smart kettle might be utterly essential in the provision of timely coffee, a smart fridge was just a ridiculous concept. Sniffing suspiciously at the carton, the milk passed the test. Cameron splashed it over the cereal and part of the table, cursed, and reached for a cloth.

  The cat circled its food bowl, mewing as if it was half starved. Cameron had no idea if it had been fed two days or two hours ago. No matter: an extra meal wouldn’t bother a cat the way it might bother a human who constantly monitored calorie intake, weight gain, daily steps, and heart attack risk factors, in an effort to keep medical costs to a minimum.

  Munching on cereal, Cameron glanced at a discreet cylinder tucked on the shelf. “Can you read out my emails?”

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t understand that. Did you want to read about snails?” replied a smooth voice.

  Cameron swallowed. “Read out my emails.”

  The ’bot paused. “You have one hundred and thirty-six unread messages. You have seventy-eight automated mailings. You have three priority messages from Ross White, four messages from Charlie Silvera, two messages from…”

  “Delete the automated messages,” snapped Cameron. “Volume down, and play the priority emails.” Another spoonful of cereal, another swig of coffee, and the latest updates from the past few hours unfolded.

  “Hi Cameron,” came Ross’s voice. “Enjoy your rest? We’ve been working our butts off here. We’
ve pretty much dealt with the surface disruption, but the older stuff in this bloody banking system is wide open and needs patching. There are still a few reports of compromised servers in the wider world but the decrypt you developed is fixing those. The antidote that’s circulating seems to have stopped virus transmission dead in its tracks.” Ross sounded almost cheerful. “Now we’re trying to settle the currency systems. We’ve had to close down all the ATMs country-wide for a short while, so there will be hell on when the public gets wind of this. Cryptocurrency trading is all suspended. We may be looking at a soft fork to upgrade protection, which will take days to organise, and that could get ugly if someone decides to dig their heels in. I’m knackered and I need to get some fresh air. See you when you get back.”

  “Hi Cameron, me again. The guys want some breakfast. Can you grab a few things on the way in?”

  “Cameron, we’ve picked up a really odd subroutine embedded in this virus. Nothing I’ve seen before. I need you to take a look. See you shortly.”

  •

  Mystified, Cameron dropped the cereal bowl in the sink, and crept quietly into the bedroom to fetch some clothes: clean underwear, jeans, casual sports shoes, t-shirt, and a respectable long-sleeved top. Spring weather in England could be unpredictable from hour to hour; best to be prepared for all eventualities. ‘Cast ne’er a clout till May be out’ had been one of their grandmother’s favourite sayings, trotted out every time either Cameron or Charlie dared to leave the house without a jumper. Cameron smiled at the memory of the tiny, rotund woman who had baked the most exquisite cakes for her treasured grandchildren, terrified her own offspring, and ruled the whole family with an iron will. The saying was becoming redundant these days; climate change had eliminated the spring frosts, although the rain still fell, and the nights could be cool.