Operation Desolation Read Online Free Page A

skill set their work required. He turned to his meal without comment.
    A minute later Ritter’s cell phone rang. He looked at the screen and excused himself to take the call. He returned a moment later. “I’m really sorry, but something’s come up and I’ve got to run. This should cover my half,” he said as he dropped a couple of twenty-dollar bills on the table.
    â€œOkay, no problem,” Jeff said. Ritter hurried out. When Jeff finished he paid the check and though he wanted to leave right away, he was pulled into a gathering of young Turks in the industry. They wanted to discuss his talk in more detail and it was half an hour before he could politely extricate himself. It was nearly ten o’clock when he finally stepped outside. He wanted to spend an hour on the RegSec project before going to bed, to double-check and see if he subconsciously hadn’t come up with something else he needed to address.
    Outside, away from the background buzz of the convention, Jeff breathed in the cold, damp sea air that was drifting in from off the Pacific. He reminded himself to be certain he spent a few hours at Mission Beach before leaving, though he’d prefer to have done that with Daryl. It didn’t seem they spent that much time together even though they were technically living and working out of the same Georgetown house. One or both of them was nearly always out of town.
    Well, there was nothing to do about it now. He set out across the street then ducked into the alley shortcut. As he entered, he realized it was a bit dark and hesitated. But it was a wide, short distance, with splashes of dim light, so he pressed on, his mind turning to the conversations of the evening.
    He agreed with some of what Chuck argued, particularly in regard to hacktivists taking a moral stand. But Ritter had a point: hacktivism was illegal and immoral in its own right and those involved should be apprehended and prosecuted. Anonymous was comprised of criminals no matter how seemingly legitimate their complaints.
    But in Jeff’s own experience, the real threat to companies came from another source altogether. They simply took cyber-security too lightly, despite their exposure to near-constant onslaughts. Jeff was convinced that some form of cyber-attack that brought a major company—a high-profile name like RegSec—to ruin was what it would take to awaken them. The situation was similar to that of the nation before 9/11. A very public disaster was what it was going to take to open eyes.
    The way it was now, companies played the odds, gambling that they wouldn’t be attacked, odds that were no longer reliable. The director of the FBI had put it best when he’d said in his RSA speech, “There are two types of companies: those that have been hacked and those that will be hacked. All will be hacked multiple times.” In Jeff’s opinion, the hacks were becoming increasingly dire.
    As he neared the end of the alleyway, he noticed in his peripheral vision a dark figure stepping from the shadows into the dim light next to him, wearing a long coat and a Guy Fawkes grinning mask. Jeff started to react, but the man swung an object like a bat and struck him with a glancing blow to the side of his head, knocking him to his knees. The mocking face leaned down close and whispered into his ear. “Stay away from Anonymous. Forget about RegSec. It’s evil and will be destroyed. If you help their evil, you deserve what we do to you.” The figure straightened, then struck Jeff again, this time kicking him in the stomach, knocking him to the ground.
    A minute later—perhaps ten minutes later, Jeff couldn’t be certain—he pushed himself to his feet. His head was throbbing. Gingerly, he felt the side of his head and found nothing wet so he knew he’d not been cut. He brushed off his clothes, then cautiously exited the alley and entered his hotel. At the desk he reported the