Cyber Knights 1.0

by Harold Coyle, Jennifer Ellis

Overview

A stunning collection of stories based on true-life cyber vulnerabilities, presented in two parts

Here be Dragons. In the Age of Discovery, unexplored areas of a map were often marked with this warning. Today, such a warning could easily be applied to the internet. Hackers and cyber assassins present a constant threat to individuals, companies, and institutions.

Protecting these targets requires a new kind of warrior, a cyber knight armed with the skills, weapons, and savvy needed to slay today’s dragons. One such digital warrior is Andy Webb, a former British Army officer. Together with Karen Spencer, a shy, twenty-something American who is a wizard when it comes to software, and Tommy Tyler, a rough and ready ex-soldier and hardware expert, Webb forms Century Consultants. The cyber security firm must work to defend its clients from the hackers, criminals and hired cyber assassins who seek out victims on the world wide web.

At the Publisher's request, this title is being sold without Digital Rights Management Software (DRM) applied.

Product Details

ISBN-13:	9780765386151
Publisher:	Tor Publishing Group
Publication date:	10/06/2015
Sold by:	Macmillan
Format:	eBook
Pages:	32
File size:	564 KB

About the Author

HAROLD COYLE is the New York Times bestselling author of multiple books, including No Warriors, No Glory, They Are Soldiers, and Team Yankee. After graduating in 1974 with a BA in history and a commission as an officer in the U.S. Army, Coyle served on active duty for seventeen years. He served in Germany during the height of the Cold War, in Korea on the staff of the Combined Field Army (RoK/US), in the Gulf during Desert Storm, as an instructor at both the U.S. Army's Armor School and the Command and General Staff College, and as an advisor to the Army National Guard. In 1991, Coyle left the service and took up writing full time.

JENNIFER ELLIS started writing four years ago, before anyone told her that it was dangerously addictive. By the time she found that out, it was too late. She graduated from the Royal Military Academy Sandhurst more years ago than she cares to remember before embarking on what she laughingly calls a ‘diverse and eclectic career path’. A path that took her from the jungles of Central America through the bogs and hedgerows of Northern Ireland to the mountains of Bosnia and Kosovo; then onward to the sandbox of Iraq (fleetingly) and most recently to the dusty plains of Afghanistan. Along the way she has also transitioned from being a regular army officer to becoming a civilian consultant and army reservist specialising in cyber security. Jennifer currently works for a global security corporation, has contributed to various government advisory bodies, occasionally deploys to hot dusty countries and, in her spare time, she writes.

New York Times bestselling author, Harold Coyle is a graduate of the Virginia Military Institute and spent fourteen years on active duty with the U.S. Army. His books include No Warriors, No Glory and They Are Soldiers. He lives in Leavenworth, Kansas.
Jennifer Ellis started writing four years ago before anyone told her that it was dangerously addictive. By the time she found that out, it was too late. She graduated from the Royal Military Academy Sandhurst more years ago than she cares to remember before embarking on what she laughingly calls a ‘diverse and eclectic career path,’ a path that took her from the jungles of Central America, through the bogs and hedgerows of Northern Ireland, to the mountains of Bosnia and Kosovo; then onwards to the sandbox of Iraq (fleetingly), and most recently to the dusty plains of Afghanistan. Along the way she has also transitioned from being a regular army officer to becoming a civilian consultant and army reservist specialising in cyber security. Jennifer currently works for a global security corporation, has contributed to various government advisory bodies, occasionally deploys to hot dusty countries and, in her spare time, she writes.

Read an Excerpt

Cyber Knights 1.0

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By Harold Coyle, Jennifer Ellis

Tom Doherty Associates

Copyright © 2015 by Harold Coyle and Jennifer Ellis
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-0-7653-8615-1

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CHAPTER 1

Shortly before its takedown by the FBI and other agencies, a small number of security researchers and law enforcement officials around the world had been noticing an unusual advert appearing intermittently in the services section of the Silk Road, the notorious criminal marketplace hidden deep within the Tor network. The advert was simple.

DIGITAL WETWORK
Reasonabl cost, bitcoin only
16 happy customer
contact #digital_sealion on IRC: lgttsalmpw3qo4no.onion

As it didn't offer malware, credit card hash dumps, hard drugs, weapons, or child pornography, most researchers moved on to more tempting targets. Besides, it wasn't a permanent feature, popping up a few days every month or two before once again disappearing. With other, more nefarious sorts to deal with, no one charged with policing the Internet who bothered to read it when it did crop up considered the character they dubbed "Sealion" to be much of a threat.

* * *

Despite being one of the smaller departments of state, everyone who worked in the unimposing building at the far end of Whitehall knew that the current minister was rather proud of his position. Therefore, violating any of the myriad of rules with which he ran his office was something none of his staff dared to do unless they were prepared to deal with the ire of his ever-vigilant gatekeeper, Terri Campbell, or the unbridled wrath of Edward Telford, the minister's permanent undersecretary and attack dog. This was why the minister was quite taken aback when Bryan Morton, his director of communications and perhaps the most risk-averse member of his staff, paid no heed whatsoever to Terri Campbell's effort to stop Morton as he rushed past her desk and burst into the minister's office without so much as knocking.

Even before Telford, who had been preparing the minister for a meeting with the PM later that afternoon, could utter a single word, Morton had slammed the door behind him and started pacing back and forth in front of the minister's desk.

For his part, the minister could only stare at Morton with an expression that quickly changed from utter shock to red-faced rage.

"We've got a problem," Morton muttered as he spun about and retraced his steps without bothering to look up at either the minister or Telford.

"You're bloody right we've got a problem," Telford growled. "To start with ..."

Coming to a sudden stop, Morton ignored Telford as he stared at the minister. "The Sun is about to run a story that's going to make what Anthony Weiner did look tame."

The minister's earlier anger turned to confusion. "Who the hell is Anthony Weiner?"

Setting aside his surprise over the minister's inability to associate that name to the scandal in New York that had put a quick and ignoble end to an otherwise promising political career, Telford glanced over at his political master. "He's a former American congressman who was caught using a private Twitter account to solicit sex with women."

When he saw the vacant look on the minister's face, Morton assumed the man known to be something of a Luddite had no idea what a Twitter account was. Eager to show off his expertise when it came to enlightening the technologically challenged, Morton began to explain without bothering to wait for the minister to ask him. "It's a microblogging service —"

He was cut short as the minister slammed his fist down. "I damn well know what Twitter is," he snapped. "What's that and this American got to do with me?"

Never having managed to develop the thick hide a member of the minister's staff needed to withstand the scathing vitriol the minister often unleashed on those who were foolish enough to arouse his ire, Morton drew back. By the time he had managed to mentally regroup, he found himself facing two men who were on the verge of verbally skinning him alive. "I just got off the phone with a friend of mine over at the Sun," Morton began quickly before either man had a chance to lash out. "He told me a journalist named Sue Oliver is working on a story that links the minister to a Twitter account used to post invitations to young girls."

Frowning and without taking the time to think, the minister blurted out the first thing that popped into his head. "What kind of invitations?"

Shooting Telford a quick sideways glance, which was returned blandly, Morton hesitated as he waited for Telford to inform their boss of the obvious. When he saw the career bureaucrat had no intention of doing so, the young technocrat drew in a deep breath. "Invitations to have sex with him — I mean you, Minister."

Dumbfounded, the minister blinked furiously as he gave his head a quick shake. "That's preposterous!"

"That's what I said," Morton replied.

"Did this friend of yours bother to tell you how Sue Oliver managed to find these tweets?" Telford asked as the minister was recovering from Morton's stunning revelation.

"There are no such tweets!" the minister snapped as he rounded on Telford.

Before responding, Telford took a moment to study the minister. Whereas the minister tended to think in terms of black and white, Telford knew they lived in a world composed of various shades of gray, a world where even a politician who strove to be as pure as the driven snow all too often gave in to the temptation to use tactics and his position to achieve ends that were less than honorable. Suspecting something was afoot, he turned his full attention back to Morton. "Get back in touch with this friend of yours and find out all you can about Sue Oliver's sources and their reliability."

Nodding, Morton looked over at the minister, waiting to be dismissed.

Telford sighed. "Today, Bryan, if you don't mind," he muttered.

"Oh, yes, right." With that, the harried young communications director spun about and beat a hasty retreat.

"And you?" the minister asked as he turned his attention to his principal advisor — a man he hoped would help him in his bid to be promoted to one of the more prestigious departments.

Before answering, Telford came to his feet. "Whilst our eager young technocrat is running around, flapping his wings about like a headless chicken, I think it might be best if I kicked over a few rocks to see what I can find out about this Twitter account Oliver claims you have."

"There is no such account," the minister snapped. "Anyone who says there is one is lying."

Knowing it was an exercise in futility to argue with the minister when his knickers were in a twist, Telford excused himself. Making his way to his own office, he retrieved the pay-as-you-go mobile from the locked drawer of his desk, one he used whenever he needed to make a discreet call. After informing his secretary he'd be out for a while, he headed for the door without telling her or anyone else where he was going. Whereas Morton would go about making his enquiries with all the finesse of a bull charging a red cape, Telford's contacts understood the need for discretion.

CHAPTER 2

Despite having spent far too much of his youth wandering around the damp streets of Belfast with hair down to his collar, a Browning pistol nestled down the back of his jeans, and a barely passable Irish accent, Edward Telford had never before set foot across the very unobtrusive threshold of the Special Forces Club. An elderly but still very trim porter with startling sapphire eyes greeted him with careful courtesy at the door and enquired after his business.

"I have a meeting with Andy Webb."

"Ah, you've been expected, sir. Please wait here." With a small smile, the porter vanished in search of Edward's host.

Left with nothing better to do, Telford took to studying the black-and-white photos of SOE agents that lined the walls of the entrance hall. In pride of place a posed picture of a stunning young woman with dark hair and haunting eyes drew his attention. Beneath it, a discreet brass plaque gave little more than the beauty's name, Violette Szabo, and then two simple letters, GC.

"I expect you know her story," a soft-spoken voice just behind his shoulder mused, causing Telford to nearly jump.

After managing to settle himself, Telford turned and offered his hand to his old friend Andy Webb, a man who, despite his age, still had the ability to move with a feline subtleness. Telford concluded as he reflected ruefully upon his own receding hairline and spreading paunch that other than a few more lines at the corners of his eyes and a touch of gray around the temples, Webb had changed little over the last thirty years.

"I've heard some of the stories concerning her," Telford admitted.

"She put our little adventures firmly in the shade," Andy replied as he took a moment to glance at the photo with the sort of reverence a soldier affects when reflecting upon a comrade. After a moment of silence, Andy turned his full attention back to Telford, sporting a gentle smile that reminded him of some of the more entertaining instances of their shared past before he was gripped firmly by the arm and escorted into the bar.

Within a few minutes, the two men had settled in a quiet corner under the stern gaze of "Wild Bill" Donovan. Both took a moment to savor the large Bushmills in front of them before Andy decided to cut to the chase. "So whilst it's always lovely to see you, Edward, what has led a senior Whitehall mandarin to seek me out in the middle of the day and honor me with his company?"

Telford toyed with his glass for a moment before posing his question. "I gather you're now something of a specialist in dealing with cybercrimes and hackers."

Andy stared for a moment before bursting out laughing. "Cyber? Do you mean that someone in Her Majesty's government is actually becoming interested enough in finding out what it really means, rather than just trotting out the word cyber like some magic talisman with a budget attached?"

Telford failed to share Andy's laughter. Instead, he paused uncomfortably, still staring into the depths of his glass. "My minister has a little problem we need some help with." He paused, struggling to overcome the ingrained habits he had developed over the years to protect and serve politicians and senior government officials, often from their own miscalculations or stupidity. "It's of a personal nature."

The look on his old friend's face abruptly stilled the mirth that had been bubbling in Andy Webb's eyes. "Tell me about it."

For the next ten minutes, Telford haltingly revealed everything he knew whilst Andy sat silent and still before him. When at last he came to a shuddering halt, he paused, gulped down the rest of the fiery liquid he had been cradling, and asked a question he was not sure he wanted to hear the answer to. "Is it feasible?"

Unsure, Andy asked a question of his own. "That he did it?"

"No! That he's been set up."

"God yeah!" Andy proclaimed louder than Telford cared for before launching into a description of the most likely attack vectors, stopping only when he noticed Telford's eyes were glazing over. Pausing, he took a moment to recalibrate his pitch, switching to nontechnical phraseology he expected even a former Guards officer like Telford would be able to follow. Only after seeing his renewed efforts were still not gaining any traction, Andy sighed as he abandoned the effort and turned his attention instead to more practical matters. "If we've any hope of sorting this out, I'm going to need all his home computers, laptops, tablets, and personal phones. In fact, everything he touches that has a processor, every storage device, every login, and every password for every account."

Telford frowned. "He's not going to like that."

Leaning forward, Andy locked eyes with Telford. "Got a better idea, mate?"

Telford's shoulders drooped. "I'll persuade him."

"I also want a letter of authorization," Andy added as his voice took on a more ominous tone while he was easing back in his seat.

"Why?"

"Protection. People tend to get a bit twitchy about ministers' computers. There's the Computer Misuse Act, RIPA, and a host of other bits of legislation that any god-fearing investigator can swiftly fall foul of, especially since the Leveson inquiry. I'll send you a draft for him to sign."

By now, Telford's shoulders were slumped in utter defeat. Then a thought occurred to him. "I don't want anyone else to know what you're up to."

"Sorry, mate. I'm going to need some help on this if you want it done right and you want it done fast," Andy snapped even as he was holding his hand up to forestall the objection he saw forming on Telford's lips. "You've no need to worry about Tommy. He's cleared, and I trust him."

Realizing he was in no position to object, Telford conceded the point before moving on to his next concern. "How fast can you complete your investigation?"

"Give me a week. Oh, yeah, and as to my fee, it's eleven hundred a day and a future favor when I need it. Do we have a deal?"

Telford sighed as he nodded reluctantly, too battered to even try to bicker over the day rate. "Seeing as I've little choice but to say yes, the least you can do is treat me to another Bushmills, a large one this time, if you please."

CHAPTER 3

Edward Telford was not in the habit of visiting the offices of second-tier staffers. Whenever he had the need to discuss something with them, they trooped into his office like obedient schoolchildren summoned by the headmaster. So when, almost a week since his meeting with Andy Webb, he nonchalantly wandered into the cubbyhole Bryan Morton thought of as an office, the young director of communications knew he was about to be treated to a right royal bollocking.

After closing the door and settling into the only other chair in Morton's office, Telford fixed the nervous young man with a stare that would ordinarily have caused him to fidget. He didn't, however, for he knew why the minister's chief advisor was there and was more than prepared to stand his ground.

"I'm not going to ask you why you chose to set up an interview for the minister with the BBC without first going through me," Telford declared with a strained airiness.

Determined to defend his decision to talk the minister into launching a preemptive media strike, Morton drew himself up. "The minister happens to agree with me." Wisely, the young man stopped short of adding, for a change.

"Sue Oliver's story isn't a story — not yet, at least," Telford countered. "Even if her editors do decide to run with it, it won't be on the front page. Oliver is a hack. She's the kind of journalist who makes the paparazzi look good."

"While that may be true, if we don't get out there ahead of this before it's a story, the opposition will hammer us once the Sun runs it. When that happens, we'll be on defense, which these days, with 24-7 media and bloggers, is not where we want to be."

"Respond is the operative word here," Telford growled in the menacing tone he used to cow errant staffers. "We respond with the full story, one that not only provides the public with the facts but presents the minister as the victim of a vicious attack orchestrated by his political foes using a fraudulent Web account."

"Is he an innocent victim?" Morton asked rhetorically.

Rather than answering him, Telford came to his feet. "Call whoever it is you're talking to at the BBC and cancel the interview. While Oliver's story might be printed in the Sun, I repeat, might be printed, you can rest assured an interview in which a minister claims he is the hapless victim of character assassination without a shred of evidence to support that claim will be on the front page of every newspaper in the country." With that, Telford headed out of the room, stopping by his own office only long enough to let his secretary know he had some personal business he needed to attend to. He didn't, of course, at least not personal business that was his. Like so much else he did, the personal business he took care of was the minister's. In this case, it was running the source of the Twitter account to ground.

When he was once more alone in his cubbyhole, Morton took to brooding. Convinced his approach to the minister's problem was the only way to handle it and determined to prove himself to the rest of the staff, as soon as he was sure Telford was gone, Morton called Jenny Jones's production assistant at the BBC to confirm the time he needed to have the minister at the studio for his interview. And rather than run the risk of being interrupted by Telford, Morton decided to wait until he was alone in the car with the minister and heading over to the studio to go over the notes he was preparing for him.

* * *

On the other side of town, Telford once again found himself clutching a large Bushmills beneath the photo of "Wild Bill" Donovan. Only this time, Andy Webb had brought a colleague along. Whereas Andy was slim and unprepossessing, his colleague looked like a cross between a New York fire hydrant and a British bulldog, creating something of contrast to come to mind as the image of Little and Large popped into his head.

"Tommy, this is Edward. Edward, Tommy Tyler." Andy made the introductions as Telford cautiously offered his hand across the table, only to find it brutally gripped in a grubby paw and pumped with all the finesse of a jackhammer whilst Tommy's mouth took off with equal speed.

"Pleased to meet you, Eddie. Andy said the two of you served together in Ireland." Then, without pausing, Tommy pitched headlong into the issue at hand. "Well, it seems your man's been well and truly stitched. At first sight, he's as guilty as sin."

Baffled, Telford took a quick glance over at Andy before turning his full attention back to Tommy. "Excuse me?"

Whilst Telford was painfully aware that not everyone saw the need to gently open a difficult conversation as carefully as senior civil servants were wont to do, the speed of Tommy's verbal tsunami left him shell-shocked as the stout little Welshman blithely ploughed ahead.

(Continues...)

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Excerpted from Cyber Knights 1.0 by Harold Coyle, Jennifer Ellis. Copyright © 2015 by Harold Coyle and Jennifer Ellis. Excerpted by permission of Tom Doherty Associates.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.

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Table of Contents

Contents

Title Page,
Copyright Notice,
Humpty Dumpty,
Humpty Dumpty: The Story Behind the Story,
Humpty Dumpty: The Technology Behind the Story,
Goodnight Granny,
Goodnight Granny: The Story Behind the Story,
Goodnight Granny: The Technology Behind the Story,
Bum Steer,
Bum Steer: The Story Behind the Story,
Bum Steer: The Technology Behind the Story,
Viva Las Vegas,
Viva Las Vegas: The Story Behind the Story,
Viva Las Vegas: The Technology Behind the Story,
About the Authors,
Books by Harold Coyle,
Copyright,