Zero Day_ A Novel - Mark Russinovich [131]
12:01 A.M.
From her perch above the rest of the employees, Margaret Harper glanced across the darkened room, taking in the screens of eighty-three computers in a glance.
Everything was normal, as it usually was this time of night. One shift was leaving as another arrived. Forty-eight personnel, mostly women, had just eased away from their stations, to be replaced by just thirteen until six in the morning, when the room would go to full complement.
Margaret’s part of CBSC was to handle the few customer-service needs for those banking customers with problems who managed to clear the numerous hurdles their local bank had created to keep them from actually talking to a real live human being. More than a dozen banks outsourced their customer service to CBSC from 9:00 p.m. until 6:00 a.m., Monday through Friday, and Margaret was responsible for making it all work.
It was not an especially demanding job, and given her hours, none of the other supervisors were clamoring for it. The 10 percent pay differential made it worth her while. She couldn’t sleep nights anyway.
“Maggie?” one of the representatives who’d been stuck on a call said into her headset.
“Yes?”
“I’ve got a live one. He insists his statement is off three cents. I’m afraid I was a little testy with him and offered to give him the three cents myself. He says that’s not the point and wants to talk to my supervisor. Sorry.”
Margaret chuckled. “I’ll take him.” But just as she heard the unpleasant voice of the customer on the line, the screens across the room flickered, turned blue, then read:
Rebooting …
After a few seconds, the screens flickered again, and read:
NO OPERATING SYSTEM FOUND.
Then the screens turned black.
Margaret disconnected the call without comment. “I’m calling tech support!” she shouted over the sudden chatter that filled the room.
SUBMARINE GROUP 10
NAVAL SUBMARINE BASE KING’S BAY
SOUTHEAST GEORGIA
MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 11
12:01 A.M.
Petty Officer Third Class Russell Winters leaned back in his swivel chair and yawned. As always, day or night, the lights in the communications room were subdued with a certain surreal quality he had some difficulty adjusting to. He’d just come on duty and was already ready for a nap. That wouldn’t do. He took a long sip of the strong black coffee with which he began every shift and turned back to his computer screen.
This was a quiet time for the submarine net spread across the Atlantic. Winters manned the very low frequency, or VLF, radio for the ballistic-missile submarines known as boomers. The screen placed each boomer by location, while the silence in his earphones told him no one was calling home. No one was expected to be calling in, so in this case silence was golden.
Six communications specialists were on duty, along with Lieutenant Commander Danielle Alvarado. She ran a quiet station, which was just as well with Winters. His personal life had all the drama he could manage for now.
He took another sip of coffee as every computer screen blinked.
“What was that?” Alvarado asked from her desk, alert.
“Some kind of hiccup, ma’am,” Winters said. His screen turned blue, then went black. They were down.
“What’s going on?” Alvarado demanded, standing in place.
Winters clicked his mouse. “I don’t know, ma’am. But we’re out of contact.”
Alvarado was already on the telephone. “I need every tech you’ve got, now! We’re down. There’s no way we can give an order or receive a message. You understand? We’re naked right now. We’ll be waiting.” She looked up at her confused staff. “Everybody reboot. We need to get back up.”
“Ma’am,” Winters said, “I just noticed that our satellite uplink is down as well.”
COLUMBUS, OHIO
MONDAY, SEPTEMBER 11
12:01 A.M.
James Black ran the numbers one more time. Maybe, just maybe, they were finally turning the corner. The fall season the previous year had been good for the family company, and they’d just come out of the traditionally slow summer with a positive cash flow, a first. If the economy stayed healthy through the holidays, they’d be in the best