Ransomware Consequences

Ransomware Consequences

Judith once referred to Wade as a Paladin, which Wade took as a compliment, although the label did not really apply to him. Historically Paladins served only the Holy Roman Emperor, Charlemagne, while at the moment, Wade served only himself and his passions. He once had served at the pleasure of his country, but today he was more like Richard Boone's character in the old TV series "Have Gun Will Travel" except Wade's gun was not for hire to just anyone, and Paladin was not his name.

It was one thing to hunt down a terrorist, but when a change of administrations sought to direct his talents against political enemies instead of enemies of his country, Wade took advantage of a budget-induced reorganization and took an early retirement. It was the best thing he had ever done. He still took occasional contracts from his former employer, but he took only those that met his personal criteria. Most were things that he would probably have done for free, but he acknowledged that having the extra money gave him even more freedom to range further on self generated assignments.

Anyone seeing him emerge from 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue would have taken him for a successful businessman in his bespoke dark blue suit, Italian shoes, and his well coiffed graying hair. No one would mistake him as a bureaucrat or political sycophant. His was an aura of strength, purpose, and competence .

A staffer brought his Tesla around, and Wade drove East on Pennsylvania toward Union Station where he turned left on North Capitol and took it to New Hampshire Avenue on into Maryland. During the entire hour of his drive to his home in Silver Spring, he sorted through the possible approaches to carrying out the job he had just accepted.

At home he went into his study, tossed his coat and tie onto an aging old friend of a leather couch, poured himself a double shot of Laphroaig single malt scotch, and sat down in his reading chair. He took a healthy swig of scotch, closed his eyes, and forced his mind to total blank for perhaps a minute. Opening his eyes he focused solely on the task before him.

"Gotta call Judith," he said to himself as he reached for his landline phone.

His message was cryptic. "Judith? Wade. I received a message marked Urgent. Can you meet me at Russia's old drop box at the G. W. Parkway overlook? Two hours? See you there." Wade chose the overlook of the Potomac River because it was roughly midway between Judith's home in Virginia and Wade's home in Maryland. The Russians had used it because it was near the CIA campus.

For Wade it was a quiet Tesla ride down New Hampshire Avenue to Colesville Road, west on the I-495 outer loop, across the bridge to the G.W. Parkway exit. His trip was faster than normal because he mostly encountered green lights on the way, unusual since he usually got mostly red lights..

At the overlook, Judith joined Wade in his car where Wade explained the job. The White House wanted an unattributable ultimate sanction against a ransomware hacker group which false-flagged its activity as being Russian, but which in fact the NSA had traced to Wardenville, Virginia. Russia was complaining about being falsely blamed, in this case anyway, and the damage being done to American infrastructure and institutions was national news. "I am already committed. Are you in?" Wade asked. "For a shot at these guys? You bet."

"You didn't ask, but we will split a half mil, tax free, but we eat our own expenses."

"Sounds fair, but you know it's not about the money."

"I know. Same here."

In normal times it would be the FBI's job to deal with the hackers. But with today's fractured society, ten year life sentences, overcrowded jails, an untested much replaced judiciary, and possible ties of the hackers to zealous cultists, it was decided to have black ops handle the problem, even though it was on American soil. This particular op will never have happened and will leave no trail. This specific problem will just go away. Just how that would happen is up to Wade and Judith.

NSA had identified three hackers, had recorded phone calls, copied messages and emails, and even accessed encrypted financial accounts, military records on one of the targets, home and work addresses and phone numbers. There was no doubt that they were ransomware hackers and very successful at it. Their personal Virgin Island offshore accounts held millions of dollars of their ill-gotten gains.

Reviewing the electronic surveillance records, they selected first the hacker who was the IT Manager at the local Bank. Judith chatted him up in the Pear Tree Restaurant and Bar across the street from the bank, slipped rohypnol, the date-rape drug of choice, into his drink, and led him willingly into the van they had rented for this purpose. After a persuasive interrogation he moved all of his assets into an account Judith provided to him. An unidentified hiker on the Appalachian Trail was found some weeks later by some rock climbers. Apparently he had fallen off the trail in a rocky area and broken his neck.

Within two days, before the other two hackers became suspicious, a second hacker who was a graduate student in computer science at the University of Virginia, was last seen leaving a bar near campus with an older man that no one knew. She never returned to her apartment, but no one noticed because students are forever coming and going.

The third hacker found himself intrigued with a new face in the bar he frequented, a guy who audaciously wore a big shiny belt buckle with a bull on it signifying that he was a stud, was buying drinks for everyone, but kept smiling at him. He was not surprised when the new face nodded toward the door as he was leaving. The hacker followed him out and into his van. The next day,, after an anonymous call to 911 he died on the way to the hospital of a drug overdose.

Victims who had paid ransom to have their systems restored and malware removed were surprised to find most of the ransom they paid redeposited (some had been spent), without explanation, back into their accounts. There was only one message. "This deposit information is being cc'd to your insurance company."

Judith returned home. Wade disposed of the van which mysteriously burned in the parking lot of an abandoned strip mall. Police reported that accellerants were used.

Back home in Maryland Wade settled into his reading chair with a glass of Laphroaig and Gregg Hurwitz's "Into the Fire," one of his Orphan X novels.

When Wade had texted his contact "They are no more," he got an immediate "We noticed," response.

Wade checked his own numbered offshore account. $500,000 had been deposited. He immediately transferred half of it to Judith. He texted her that he would cover the expenses himself.