In this story, you will have to suffer through some plot development before you get to the Good Parts. I think you'll find it's worth the wait. Also, please let me emphasize that every aspect of this story is purely fictional.
Shanice was recruited during her senior year in college. It was not hard to understand why; she had a knack for languages, and she was studying several that must have made her interesting, including German and Russian. Plus, she was going to school on an AFROTC scholarship -- it was her ticket out of the 'hood, but it also meant that the government had made an investment in her. Long story short, she had a job with Air Force Intelligence.
The fact that she was considered attractive was probably also a factor. Not that she was being groomed to be the next Mata Hari, but she had found that her looks distracted men and put them off their guard, which is occasionally helpful in intelligence work. Her mixed-race parentage provided her with an ambiguous ethnicity, a medium-brown complexion that could be mistaken for any number of different nationalities.
So she signed on, and underwent extensive training. Some of it was exciting cloak-and-dagger stuff, but much of it was tedious and bureaucratic. It was like going to college all over again, but without the social life -- she didn't have time to make friends outside the organization, and fraternization was discouraged, to put it mildly. It was a highly competitive environment, and the women were a minority, determined to show up the men.
During her last year of training in 2008 she was summoned to Dr. Pearson's office. Pearson was the head of the training facility, a tall man with steel-gray eyes whose military haircut obscured his baldness. "Ms. Dabreo," he said, gesturing toward a chair, "you seem to know your way around a computer. I want to talk to you about Cyberwarfare. The Air Force is preparing to compete with other branches of the defense establishment for the lead role in this emerging area of conflict. We want to give a few new agents some extra courses in this field. Are you interested?"
She told him that she was.
So, for the next 9 months she was increasingly immersed in the techniques of computer security, both how to strengthen it, and how to compromise it. Among other things, she studied the intricacies of Titan Rain, the successful assault on US cyber-security that was originally attributed to the Chinese, but later acknowledged to be of unknown origin. By 2009, Shanice was a qualified field agent.
Oftentimes, being in "the field" meant simply being online, cultivating relationships with shadowy entities whom one recognized by their choice of screen-names but more importantly, elements of their online style. Shanice was sitting in her antiseptic little cubicle somewhere in an anonymous-looking office in Arlington, about to open an email from "Roland." Roland purported to be a cyber-security consultant in the corporate world (as did Shanice.) He stood out because of his obvious competence, and his wit. Shanice was probing to see whether he might have access to software that could be a credible threat to US government computer systems.
"Hey, Rochelle," the email began. "Rochelle" was a name Shanice used for one of her online identities.
The email continued. "Do you remember TR? I think I know who did it. IM me noonish."
Shanice was certain that "TR" meant Titan Rain. She looked at her watch, which read 10:50 AM. She arose and walked down the hall to Pearson's office.
The door was open. Shanice rapped on the door frame, and Pearson looked up from the file he was reading and beckoned her in. "What's up?" he asked.
"I have a contact who claims to know something about Titan Rain. He seems knowledgeable and maybe there is something to it."
Pearson looked unimpressed. This wasn't the first report of this type. "What's his profile? Do we know anything about him?"
"He claims to be a corporate spook. He's smart. Other than that, he's just a screen name. But I have watched his online activity for eight months, and interacted with him for five, and he has demonstrated an in-depth working knowledge of cyber-security measures and countermeasures, including Titan Rain."
"Well..." Pearson gave a perfunctory nod. "Initiate contact. But do it by the book."
"Yes, sir," Shanice replied.
She returned to her desk, and started a file on Roland. She assembled notes she had made on her previous discussions with him, mainly subjective observations and hunches, plus hard copy of emails and chat sessions. She made an initial attempt to trace his IP, but gave up quickly upon the realization that he was a pro and would cover his tracks. Shortly before 12:00 she composed an IM to Roland:
"Hey. What's the story with TR." Then she pushed the "send" button.
After about 30 seconds, a reply appeared. "There are some folks who are selling both offense and defense. Can't say more online."
"What other options do we have?" typed Shanice.
"Face to face," came the reply. Wow, thought Shanice. That was easy. She typed "Where?"
"Check your inbox." Then Roland broke off contact.
Shanice opened the inbox for "Rochelle". There was a message with the subject header "Cyber-Security Conference." She opened the email, and found an advertisement for a conference to be held in two weeks in... Negril, Jamaica.
Shanice froze for a moment. Her father was from Jamaica, and she had visited Granny in Kingston many times as a girl. Could Roland know that? Was he profiling her, just as she was attempting to profile him, only with better success? But upon reflection, it seemed unlikely that Roland would organize a public conference in another country, just based on that knowledge. It was most likely a coincidence. Just the same, Shanice decided to verify the existence of the conference and the organization sponsoring it. After a few minutes on the web, she managed to do all of that, and relaxed a bit. But all this still had to be approved by Pearson.
She made the trip down the hall again. The door was open, but Pearson was on the phone. Then she realized he was concluding his call. He saw her out in the hall, and waved her in as he hung up the phone. "Have a seat," he said.
Shanice sat in the chair facing his desk. "Sir, I believe my contact has Titan Rain for sale."
"How does he want to do it?"
"At a conference, second week of July. In Jamaica."
Pearson's eyebrows went up. He had read her file. "Does your contact know about your family ties?"
"Sir, if he does, he didn't get it from me. The conference sponsor is a legitimate organization. And I'm thinking that if the contact
doesn't
know I've spent time in Jamaica, it could give me an edge. Sort of a home court advantage."
Pearson thought for a moment. "OK, I'll approve the op. We'll send Kenny and Bruno as backup. But remember... by the book."
"Absolutely, sir." Shanice got up and returned to her cubicle.
Over the next week, she made travel arrangements and registered "Rochelle" for the conference. She met with Kenny and Bruno, two of her colleagues who had completed their training a year ahead of her. They would travel separately and take care of surveillance, plus any unanticipated problems that might arise. The two fellows cracked jokes about a Caribbean vacation. Kenny was an ambitious, straight-arrow type with aviator glasses and sand-colored hair, who seemed like he would have no idea what to do on a vacation. Bruno, on the other hand, was an easy-going Hispanic guy from Los Angeles. Like Shanice, he had come up from a poor neighborhood, and she felt comfortable with him. He was soft-spoken with a sly smile. He mentioned something to Shanice about a "hacker trap" that agency techs were devising to catch Titan Rain, using computer forensics techniques to "reverse hack" intruders.
One week before the conference, Shanice sent an email to Roland: "I'll be there -- how will I know you?"
Four hours later, the reply came: "Dark green suit. Cowboy hat." Well, thought Shanice. Rather flamboyant for a cyber-spook. But then again, North Americans tend to let it all hang out when they visit Jamaica.
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