The Cloud Collector Read Online Free

Irvine had half expected.
    â€˜Some things came up during Stuxnet that didn’t specifically contribute to that project,’ continued Irvine. ‘They did, though, give me an idea that I ran past Conrad Graham, then the CIA’s director of covert operations. He approved my exploring them as a possible operation, which for a time I did as a research project.’ Irvine stopped, again risking an interruption he didn’t want and fortunately didn’t come. ‘It’s important for all of you to understand that everything you’ve so far done at my request was properly approved and authorized.’
    Irvine was conscious of renewed looks between Marian and Singleton. The two Pakistani Americans still gave no reaction.
    â€˜It’s a CIA-financed operation, headed by a covert-division supervisor named Jim Bradley. Harry Packer’s the liaison officer from here,’ went on Irvine. ‘Everyone in this room has the highest security clearance, higher probably than a lot of the CIA people working on the periphery of what’s involved. We’re not on the periphery. We’re at the very core, the people making it work, and I don’t want it continuing as it has until now.’
    â€˜I don’t think I do, either,’ intruded Singleton at last. ‘I’d like what at the moment sounds like nonsense properly explained, right now!’
    â€˜We’d all like that,’ insisted Marian. ‘Our employment contracts are with the National Security Agency, not the Central Intelligence Agency, by whose operating procedures none of us is bound.’
    Irvine had forgotten Marian held a corporate law degree. ‘That’s why we’re having this meeting.’
    *   *   *
    â€˜To make the Stuxnet sabotage work we had to get to the Programmable Logic Controller of Iran’s Natanz and Bushehr facility computers,’ reminded Irvine. ‘Which we couldn’t, not by direct hacking. The Iranians had anticipated the danger of an Internet connection. Their nuclear PLCs weren’t connected but ran independently. Our only way in was to hack the personal computers of the Natanz and Bushehr scientists to create our botnets—or Trojan horses or spiders, whatever you want to call them—the moment they put their memory sticks into their otherwise protectively isolated mainframes…’
    Marian and Singleton were nodding in recollection. Barker and Malik were both pressed forward, easily following the explanation.
    â€˜Israel’s Mossad had a lot of personnel file details on the Iranian and Russian technicians at Natanz and Bushehr,’ picked up Irvine, his earlier tension easing. ‘Israel also have equipment similar to our own algorithm capacity and our dual random-number generators.’ Irvine cleared his throat, wishing he’d brought water into the room with him. Looking to Singleton, he said, ‘Am I making myself clear?’
    â€˜I’ll let you know if you don’t,’ said the man with obvious reservation.
    Was it just an irritation at not being included from the beginning? wondered Irvine. Or was it deeper than that, the resentment of someone twenty years his senior believing he should have been the project leader? ‘Once we got into the personal PCs, we automatically gained access to every name—and computer—on each PC’s contacts list, multiplying our botnet trawl. They were careless, these guys; had every excuse to be, I guess. They were inside what was supposed to be the most secure facility in the entire country. No-one could get to them, read their mail, which was why they wrote in clear, never encryption. I read a hell of a lot, we used a hell of a lot. There was one guy I picked out early on, signed himself Hamid. Came to believe that at another time in another Cold War he’d have been described as a commissar. Hamid didn’t close down after Stuxnet so I went on