Smart Grid: Man In the Middle

By Barbara Boehm and Dale Boehm

Bill Williams lost all of the people he loved. His wife died in a car accident. Now his former Navy SEAL son was left to die in Benghazi on the eleventh anniversary of 9/11. Bill heads to Washington to seek answers, but answers are not forthcoming. He is left feeling isolated and alone with very little left to live for.

Bill immerses himself into his work as a computer Engineer for a Smart Grid company to deal with the loss of his family. While trying to solve major issues with installed smart meters Bill meets Lynda Marshall, a research analyst for the Defense Advanced Research Projects Agency.

Together Bill and Lynda discover a computer virus putting their lives in danger. The virus appears to be part of a conspiracy to manipulate the world’s most powerful leaders through Smart Grid technology. Bill delves into the investigation, but his prodding labels him a Cyber Terrorist. Now, Bill is on the run from several government agencies that want to bring him down.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu Publishing Services
• Release date: Oct 14, 2014
• ISBN: 9781483417400

Book preview

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PROLOGUE

The WDCN Channel 9 News helicopter was first on the scene and hovered over the wreckage below that was possibly the worst vehicle accident the area had seen in recent history. A large plume of black smoke rose from the fuel tanker, too thick to see through. The helicopter positioned itself to the south of the smoke to get the best view from above. Fire fighters, paramedics and police officers continued to arrive on the scene to help those that had been injured.

Reporter Harold Moore leaned out of the helicopter as he spoke to the camera aimed at his face. Fearless to the point that he always pushed the limits, garnered Moore respect as the best sky reporter in the DC area. In the air, he gave details to Anneta Smith back at the station.

Anneta, right now we are looking at the horrific wreckage that occurred on the George Washington Memorial Parkway. A fuel tanker heading north ran head-on into a roadway maintenance line painting truck and as you can see, this has caused a horrific fire. The violence of the impact caused additional traffic in both directions to end up involved as they were not able to stop.

Harold, how many people were involved? And have the police given a fatalities count yet?

Anneta, they have not. We do know that at least a two man crew was on the paint truck. We do not know yet, how many people were in the fuel tanker that was involved or why the paint truck veered abruptly into the on-coming traffic.

Do you have any idea how many people have been injured?

We were told that at least four people have been seriously injured, one of them being a mother of three. She has been airlifted to the Inova Alexandria Hospital.

Have they said how long the road will be closed?

Right now, it looks like the fire fighters are evacuating the perimeter because the fuel tanker is leaking. The intense heat could rupture the tank, releasing all the fuel causing a flood of fire. As you know, fire crews take extra precautions when any type of fuel is involved. Right now their main concern is keeping the fire contained and they are monitoring toxic vapors which could ca-.

Without warning a deafening explosion sent a bright orange and red fire ball into the air as the tanker below exploded.

The pilot of the helicopter maneuvered suddenly upward and to the right to avoid the fireball and any flying debris. Harold grabbed the sides of the door as his harness caught him, avoiding his being pitched out to the fire below.

Coverage from the helicopter crew was interrupted so Anneta Smith took control over the situation in the media room.

"Once again, this is a breaking story. A fuel tanker ran head-on into a paint crew today on the George Washington Memorial Parkway. As you witnessed, there was an explosion while our own team was in the air. We have been notified that Harold and his brother Michael who flies the helicopter are okay. They were not injured but they have been unable to get closer at this time as the police have ordered all air traffic out of the area.

We will continue with ground coverage on this situation when we return from a commercial break.

Anneta and her co-anchor, Kenneth spoke to each other as the camera broke to a commercial.

On the ground, the News 9 camera team made their way through stopped vehicles to get closer to the wreckage. They stood back and watched as a billowing black cloud of smoke spread over the area making it hard to see anything. More officers arrived on the scene within minutes of the last explosion. The officers immediately began to take charge to help those who were injured while others cordoned off the area to keep the curious from getting too close. The heat from the burning fuel was too intense to get close to the wreckage, forcing the firefighters back as they fought to keep the fire contained.

Carolyn Thompson stood in front of the News 9 camera, her brown hair in a pony tail to keep it out of her face.

Anneta addressed the viewers before speaking with the reporter on the scene.

We are back now with more coverage of the explosion on the GWM parkway. Carolyn, what can you tell us about the situation on the ground?

Anneta, it is hard to imagine the scene here today. The smoke is making it hard on those who were trapped in the backed up traffic. An evacuation was in the process when there was an explosion that appeared to have come from the fuel tanker. Thankfully, the crews had gotten everyone back far enough that no one was injured by the explosion. The fire fighters are doing their best right now to contain the fire.

Do we have an actual count on the number of injuries? Anneta asked.

Anneta, we just learned that the alleged cyber terrorist, Bill Williams, drove a Jeep Wrangler head on in to the paint truck that had been painting stripes on the road. Witnesses on the ground stated that the Jeep was totally obliterated when it hit the paint truck, due to the high speed.

That would mean that the fuel tanker did not cause the accident. Does anyone know if Bill Williams had anyone with him?

It is believed that he was by himself, but no further information has been released at this time. As you can see, the impact threw debris hundreds of feet causing injuries and possibly fatalities to other drivers. The biggest concern at the moment is taking care of the injured and keeping this fire contained.

Carolyn, are there any eye witnesses there with you now?

Yes, as a matter of fact, I have Tammy Odom with me. Tammy, can you tell us what you saw?

A beautiful young woman with long brown hair and indigo blue eyes looked shaken and her eyes filled with tears.

There wasn’t too much traffic on the road at this time of day, thank God. When I came around the corner, I just happened to look further up ahead of me and…this Jeep just drove straight in to the truck. He didn’t try to miss it or swerve, he just hit it. He was driving on the wrong side of the road. It was really sad. Pieces of the jeep went everywhere, there was nothing left of it.

Was there anything else you remember about what happened?

No, I told the men in black suits the same story. They were the first responders on the scene.

Carolyn looked around and then back at Tammy.

Men in black? Were they officers?

No, they were driving a black SUV, more like FBI or something.

At that moment, an elderly lady with short silver hair and a faint accent standing in the background stepped forward and ranted.

The men, they’re Russian, KGB, I’m sure of it. I tell them nothing. They ask too many questions. You see, I hear them talking, they are Russian Government, up to no good. She looked at the camera with a smug look, with her deeply wrinkled lips puckered and brows narrowed nodding her head up and down.

Well, Anneta, there you have it. We will continue to investigate this further. This is Carolyn Thompson reporting on the scene at George Washington Memorial Parkway, Alexandria, Virginia.

Anneta Smith turned toward camera three at the news studio to address her viewers. A driver’s license photo of a handsome, smiling African American man popped up on the screen behind Anneta and her co-anchor, Kenneth Davis. Next to the photo was a recent photo of Bill Williams shrouded in a hood looking up at a camera.

"It was reported earlier this week that Bill Williams from Waxahachie, Texas broke into an electric substation located in the DC area. The second photo was taken at the time of the break-in. Officials believe that it was Williams’ intention to cause a nationwide black out and wreak havoc on the Smart Grid system he helped build.

Bill Williams was in the area to receive his son’s remains after he was killed in the 9/11 attack in Benghazi. A memorial service was held for his son, Jacob Williams, a former Navy SEAL, at the National Arlington Cemetery earlier in the week.

Anneta, do we know any more about the speculation that Mr. Williams may have been working with the Russian Intelligence Service? The camera panned out to show Kenneth. The report of Russians at the accident may add merit to that theory.

No, Ken, all they know right now is that Mr. Williams was a Computer Network Engineer for AirRead Inc. and he lived alone in Waxahachie, Texas.

He has an amazing resemblance to the actor, Denzel Washington. It’s such a sad day for everyone involved, Kenneth said.

Indeed, Anneta said. While it is believed that Bill Williams was in the crash today, authorities are warning that he is possibly armed and dangerous. They are encouraging everyone to call the police if you see this man anywhere. Stay tuned for the weather next, here on News 9.

Chapter 1

Three Weeks Earlier

Tripoli, Libya

September 11, 2012

In the summer of 2012, the American Joint Special Operations Command (JSOC) team, a highly secretive military group, was sent to Tripoli, Libya to put boots on the ground unknown to anyone outside of a very small circle.

Once the revolutionary war in Libya was over, Gaddafi was shot dead and later put on display for all Libyans to see. The CIA in Benghazi remained to secure any U.S. weapons that had inundated the country. Benghazi, Libya became the core intelligence locale for intelligence operatives involved in observing Al-Qaeda.

JSOC team members, Bryan Marshall and Casey Gutierrez worked late in to the evening in Tripoli, profiling Libyan militants connected to the Al-Qaeda network.

It had been a long day of operations when some of the group’s members began to unwind from the day.

Rummy! Josh said as he threw down his hand of cards.

Grinning, Josh leaned back in his chair, put his arms behind his head and closed his eyes, the smile never leaving his handsome face. At five feet and eleven inches, his stocky frame was in good physical condition. His dark brown hair was kept shaved close to his head and his dark brown eyes remain closed, confident he had won this hand of cards.

The other two men at the table searched for an error in his scattered stack of cards. They sat with poker faces before they began counting points.

Phillip, known as Buzz to his friends, looked younger than his twenty-seven years. At six foot, two inches he resembled Nicholas Cage with his tall wiry frame, deep brown eyes and ready smile. Sometimes for fun, his friends would walk close by his side, trying to convince young women they were his body guards and he was indeed the famous actor.

Buzz looked around the room a little uneasy. Violence in Libya had increased during the past summer with at least twenty attacks within the last six months.

The United States Secretary of State, Brenda West, had been apprised of these attacks which included carjackings, kidnappings, gun conflicts and assassination attempts on officials. On one such attack, in response to an Al-Qaeda leader’s death by an American drone, the terrorist group left warnings more attacks were to come. West had been informed of the increasing threat in the nearby city of Benghazi and more recent activity justified increased security for all U.S. personnel and compounds in Libya. While others, including the International Red Cross and the British Foreign Office withdrew from Benghazi due to the increased threat, the U.S. missions remained and increased security was not provided in Benghazi.

Although only a few said it out loud, tension was high. It was the eleventh anniversary of the worst terrorist attack on American soil that had left thousands of innocent people dead in 2001. Since that horrific day, smaller acts of terrorism around the globe had set off emotions tantamount to the attack.

No official news had been broadcast, yet all of the men had been briefed regularly to be extra vigilant for anything out of the ordinary. They had been ordered from the highest level to keep a low profile, which included not carrying weapons, so their presence would not upset relations with the local Libyans. Buzz didn’t agree with the decision he felt marked them all as easy targets. Buzz took his job very seriously, so it was hard for him to put his guard down on a day such as today.

None of the men had any problems with the locals; in fact almost everyone they had come in contact with had been more than gracious and respectful. Rumors on the street, however, had gone around for months that Al Qaeda had been training nearby, right outside of Benghazi. These groups had claimed responsibility for some of the smaller attacks made during the summer.

Buzz shifted in his chair before laying down his own cards and said, I’d like to stay men, but I’ve got better things to do right now.

He stood pushing the chair back with his legs, before he picked up his cigarettes and went outside.

Jacob at twenty-nine, was the comedian in the group, always ready with a winning line to make people laugh. He learned early in life that humor breaks the ice. A frown slowly drew across his face when he realized how far behind he was in the game. Once again, Jacob was in the hole, this time by 300 points, so he tried to lure Juan into the card game.

Private Juan, he said. You shouldn’t get stuck on reading letters from home. It gets too damn depressing-Come on, join us for one game.

In his private, deliberate way, Juan chose not to acknowledge Jacob’s play on words with his name. Jacob had been calling him Private One instead of Juan since he arrived a month ago.

At that moment, Bryan, six foot three and 195 pounds, walked into the room carrying a small black backpack. He dropped the bag down on a chair and reached for an unopened bottle of water sitting on the table.

What’s up guys? Who’s winning? he asked. After opening the bottle, Bryan drank most of the water down in one easy swallow.

Juan didn’t bother to look up from the letter that he had been reading from home.

"Josh…before you arrived."

He speaks! Jacob yelled, raising his hands in the air as he looked around the room.

Josh sat up causing the legs of the chair to drop to the floor with a heavy thud. He’s a man of little words. Give it up already, Josh said.

Josh had become the peace maker in the group, always mending the situation before it erupted. He gazed at the faces around the table and changed the subject.

Did you see the message Kelly Wriston posted on Facebook yesterday? Josh asked as he let out a chuckle. She wants everyone to share the best day they’ve ever had, his tone mocked Kelly. I think we should all post our worst day to see who gets unfriended first.

The other men laughed with him, knowing that Josh and Kelly were good friends.

My best days were riding my Harley back home. When I get back home, I’m going to ride my motorcycle until the wheels fall off, Jacob said as he pulled a white t-shirt over his head, then pulled on his camouflage field jacket leaving it opened for now.

Seriously? Is that all you want to ride when you get home? Bryan asked. He and Josh bumped fists as they laughed whole heartily. I can think of something better to ride than a Harley.

Laughter erupted again around the room.

Jacob raised his eyebrows. Yeah, you got that right. What about you body snatcher? Jacob asked.

Body snatcher? Bryan laughed.

It wasn’t the first time he had been harassed about his pre-Navy days when he picked up bodies from accidents for a funeral home.

Those families had a right to proper presentation of their loved ones, so they could say good bye.

Bryan lifted the water bottle in a salute and finished the last of the clear liquid without stopping. When he finished the water he looked back at Josh.

My worst day ever? Hmmmm, it was when I picked up an old man with my friend Cory. The old man died alone in his home and had been sitting in a recliner for days. He shook his head slowly. The heat spares no one, man. It was a hundred ten degrees that week in the middle of August. The poor guy smelled so bad, Cory and I wore a gas mask to transport him.

No way! Are you serious man? Jacob asked as he put one foot up on a chair and rested his arm on his leg to lean forward for more of Bryan’s story.

Bryan laughed out loud, he shook his head as he remembered, We had to, we didn’t have a choice! He smelled too bad. We loaded him up and had all the windows down. We were speeding as fast as we thought we could get away with trying to get back to the funeral home.

Bryan’s face and hands became animated. All of a sudden a cop showed up behind us with his lights on. Cory bailed out of the wagon because of the smell. The cop started yelling to stand still. He walked up asking all kinds of questions, like why are you driving so fast and why are you wearing masks? Bryan’s laughter broke his story, but was a bit contagious as others laughed along. We tried to explain about the body-

Bryan began to laugh hard enough he had difficulty finishing his story. So the cop walks over and sticks his head in the window before we could warn him.

Holding his chest with his arms crossed in front of him, Bryan laughed even harder. You should have seen the guy. He backed up so fast we thought he was going to fall down into passing traffic! He waved his arms at us and told us to go on and to drive safe. He never even asked us for ID or insurance.

His laughter was contagious and everyone in the room was laughing with him when he finished.

You are one sick dude, Josh said as he shook his head at Bryan. I don’t think I could do that job.

They all laughed again, knowing Josh was from the ghettos of New York and had probably seen much worse in his lifetime.

Bryan threw his gym bag in Juan’s direction. Give it up Juan, what’s the worst day of your life? Bryan asked.

Juan eyed Bryan. He trusted him, so he slowly joined the group and sat across from Bryan. Juan had laughed along with the others over Bryan’s story.

After taking a half crushed pack of cigarettes out of his shirt pocket, he looked down and concentrated on the package in his hand, but made no move to open them. The group fell silent not knowing if Juan would tell his story or not, but they did not want to take a chance by breaking the silence. It was rare that they heard Juan talk.

Juan saw his brother’s face in his mind as clear as day. He continued to stare at the cigarette package as he tried to decide if he wanted to share his worst day or not.

September 26, 2004, he began quietly. I was hunting with my dad, two of my brothers and my nephew, he sighed as he looked up at Bryan.

It had snowed the first night and was very cold the next morning. My brother, Oscar, was following my dad up a small slope, but Oscar had slowed down to light a cigarette. Antonio and I were a ways behind them with Oscar’s twelve year old son. We all heard a gunshot never thinking one of us would go down.

The room was quiet. Each man became still, not daring to move. They all became serious at Juan’s mention of a family member getting shot. Bryan and Josh watched Juan’s face closely, while Phillip and Jacob fixed their eyes on the cards on the table.

Antonio and I, we just stood there looking around for a deer or an Elk. We couldn’t see where the gunshot came from, we didn’t see anyone.

He shook his head slowly, we didn’t see a deer or any animal.

Juan cleared his throat and continued in a husky voice raw with emotion.

All of a sudden we saw Oscar fall to his knees and slowly fall backwards. We ran up the slope yelling for him to stop joking…to get up. When we reached him, his face was pale, drained of color. It hit us both at the same time that he had been shot. It was unreal…like a damn nightmare.

Juan paused for a moment, his gaze fixed on his cigarettes.

We didn’t see any blood, but we knew…we picked him up and put him in the back of the truck. We searched again for a gunshot wound under his coat, but couldn’t find one. We started CPR, but it wasn’t working, so Antonio jumped in the truck and sped off while I lay with him in the back telling him to hold on.

After an extended pause, Juan continued with obvious pain in his voice.

I saw a breathe escape his mouth in the cold air…he was gone.

He cleared his throat before continuing.

I still tried to keep him warm, talking to him even though I knew he was dead.

Juan shook his head, his voice full of raw emotion.

We found out later that the bullet went right through his chest, both lungs, detached the aorta, ruptured the spinal cord and out the other side. There was no chance of saving him.

The room remained quiet until Josh asked quietly, Who shot him?

Juan looked up for the first time. His eyes glistened in the light.

A police officer from the Phoenix area. He had been drinking til early in the morning, then decided to go hunting. He had a straight shot across the meadow with nothing in his line of fire. He claimed he thought the movement was a deer.

The room fell silent once again as Juan stood slowly. No one made eye contact with him except Bryan. Sorry man, he said quietly.

Buzz nodded his head in agreement. Yeah, that’s fucked up.

Juan headed to the door to go outside for a cigarette break. Somehow, I feel the worst is yet to come, he said as he opened the door and stepped out into the dark night.

Jacob picked up his soda and walked silently toward the door to join Juan for a cigarette break.

Josh and Bryan were the only ones left at the table. Josh picked up on the story where Juan left off. That would be hard, to watch your brother die like that.

Bryan shuffled the cards but did not deal them out. He glanced at his watch. I’m going to bed. I’ve got a lot of stuff to do in the morning.

Just then at 10:08 p.m., the radio crackled with a desperate plea for help from the U.S. Consulate in Benghazi. Bryan and Josh froze looking at the radio. Before they could react, another voice was heard, rapid gun fire in the background made it difficult to hear. We’re under attack! We need help at the Consulate now!

The door flew open and Jacob stormed into the room followed by Juan.

What the hell is going on? We heard over the radio that the U.S. Consulate is under attack! Jacob exclaimed.

They stopped when they realized Bryan and Josh were having an argument.

Stand down? What the F man? Bryan said as he stood up knocking his chair over with a loud bang. I can’t believe we are being told to stand down-we’re right here! We can take down those sons of bitches before they kill innocent people!

Josh ignored Bryan’s anger because of his own anger. He directed his comments to the other men.

The U.S. Consulate is under attack but until we have further information, we have been ordered to stand down.

Jacob positioned himself directly in front of Josh and firmly stated, Those lives are our responsibility. I’ll stand down when they’re safe! There will be no man left behind…not on my watch!

I agree with Jacob, that’s bullshit! Bryan said. Let’s go!

Knowing that the U.S. Ambassador was at the Consulate and his life was in danger, Josh made a split second decision.

Gear up ladies…full ready! Bryan, come with me. We need to find an airplane!

The JSOC was very aware of the order to stand down, but that was not what they were trained to do. They were also aware of the timely attack on the U.S. Consulate by terrorist. As they deployed to help save their comrades and innocent civilians it never crossed their minds further help would never arrive, making their mission among the longest twelve hours in history. With that abandonment, the long standing U.S. Military code of no man left behind was rendered mere words.

Chapter 2

The night was still young as approximately 150 undetected radical militants sealed off the streets that led to the U.S. Consulate compound with trucks mounted with guns. Seemingly random gun fire and explosions kept locals inside hiding in the safety of their homes. Those who dared to be outdoors ran from shadow to shadow, except those involved in the violence. From all directions men firing guns assailed on the compound shouting Allahu Akbar! shattering the peace throughout the neighborhood. Men wearing Afghan-style tunics and flak jackets tossed hand grenades over the consulate walls while others riddled the walls with anti-aircraft machine guns and automatic weapons.

Once inside the building, diesel fuel was poured around the main rooms and set ablaze. Within seconds the night sky lit up from a burning inferno, flashing red and orange glows that printed non-distinct patterns against the blackness beyond. Thick black smoke filled the night air choking everyone within its deadly path. Unable to escape, those inside were held against their will by the noxious smoke.

Jacob! Bill shouted. This caused him to cough so hard his head felt like it would split open. His chest felt like it would explode if he inhaled anymore smoke and he was not sure he would make it out alive. Red blisters formed on his hands and face from the heat of the flames and his hair scorched, giving off the smell of burnt flesh. He had to get through the black smoke to find his son, so Bill got down as low as possible. The sound of gunfire rang out and pelted the ground nearby.

Bill crawled on his elbows, dragging his feet until he found a window and quickly climbed out. His t-shirt caught on the broken fragments of glass causing his six foot frame to fall head first from the window onto the cold concrete below, splitting open his eyebrow. Blood oozed into his eye and his body sprawled out like a dying eagle. Weakness and exhaustion threatened to take over, but Bill used every bit of strength he had left inside, turning pain in to determination as he pushed himself up onto his hands and knees. Blinking rapidly, he tried to see through the black smoke but was unable to see inches in front of him.

His lungs were on fire. Trying hard not to breathe in the thick smoke, he tore off his shirt and covered his mouth. Thankfully, the shirt was moist with intense sweat after running the long distance, to find and rescue Jacob.

With raw and bloody hands he crawled toward a light until a burst of cool air hit his face and his chest heaved as he gulped the fresh air. The air caused him to go in to another spasm of coughing as he spit out a thick substance caused by the smoke. Panic took over causing his heart beat to race out of control as blood and sweat flowed into his eyes, causing him to see only blurred images. He had to find his son before the enemy found him. He could not leave Jacob behind. He would not leave Jacob behind at the mercy of the enemy.

Jacob! Bill cried out from the depths of his soul.

Loud explosions and gun fire riddled the landscape nearby and Bill jumped backwards for cover. Rocket propelled grenades fired by the enemy were landing on rooftops nearby, causing larger flames than the ones before.

Attack! Attack! came over the loud speaker to warn of the ongoing attack on the compound. Then the warning siren above joined in making Bill’s ears ring, as a bright light shined in his face causing him to shield his eyes from the brightness.

As he turned his head away from the light, Bill suddenly saw Jacob’s face through the black smoke. His heart skipped a beat as his hand reached out to grab his son, only to barely touch his shirt with his finger tips, before falling off balance. Bill opened his mouth to scream his son’s name, but nothing came out. His mouth was too dry to speak, his body too weak to reach out for his son.

Bill’s eyes shot open, with a heart beat that matched his accelerated breathing. His right hand clutched the bed sheet as if he was trying to hold on to his son’s shirt. The cream colored sheet lay partly on the floor as it slid off the bed. The morning sun streamed in through the bedroom window onto his face. With tear filled eyes and a sweat drenched body, Bill laid there for a moment as the awareness of his dream hit him full force.

The hand clutching the sheet began to tremble as he tried to lick his dry lips, his mouth dry from sleep. The slightest movement caused his limbs to tingle. Unable to move, with arms that felt useless, he lay there waiting for his brain to fully register the nightmare. After a moment, he slowly rolled over to bury his head under his pillow, letting out a low guttural groan that sounded like a wounded animal. Breathing in some deep breaths to calm his mind, he tried to relax his body.

Unable to wake up, he began to drift off to sleep where his mind did not have to face reality. Memories of Jacob flooded Bill’s mind as he drifted further in to unconsciousness. Seeing his son in his uniform for the first time was such a proud moment for Bill and his late wife, Sarah. They had tried to convince him to attend college first, but when a group of his friends joined the Navy after high school, he was in.

The alarm clock sounded for a second time, causing Bill’s large hand to shoot out from under the covers to slam the button on top of the annoying machine. Never one to use his alarm clock due to years of rising on time, the noise annoyed him more than ever. He only used it as a backup, but today it