Zero Day_ A Novel - Mark Russinovich [92]
“We will launch our cyber jihad in coordination with an Al Qaeda attack that will make the World Trade Center seem as nothing. We will destroy billions of dollars in assets, cripple the Internet on which the Western world depends, unleash floods, shut down—even destroy—power plants, including nuclear ones. Airplanes will fall from the sky. Millions of computers will be permanently destroyed, including those containing the records of pensions. The loss of key data will be incalculable. Faith will be shattered. Anger against their government will be greater than ever before. It will cause more damage than the first attack did. The West, the United States of America, will suffer a great defeat. Faith in Western technology will be crippled.
“In the Muslim world, those who have been mesmerized by false prophets will turn away, while our true brothers who have been tempted by the West for too long will rise up. In Iraq, Iran, and Syria, those fighting the infidel will be emboldened. It will take years to recover from this, years of retreat for the West. It will end with a new caliphate.”
Fajer’s eyes had blazed with fervor and Labib had never felt closer to him, or to Allah.
But now he knew some of what he had planned would not happen. There would be no Al Qaeda attack and he could not estimate in advance the full extent of the harm he would cause on September 11. He was certain it would be substantial; it might even be crippling.
Yet this was only to be the first attack. Already he and Dufour were planning a follow-up, which they would unleash before the United States had recovered from the first. Their assault from this time forward would be relentless and unstoppable.
The rear door opened and Fajer stepped in, neatly dressed in a dark charcoal Armani suit. Labib had had no idea his brother was in Paris. He grinned and stood up, taking his older brother into his arms. “As-salaam alaikum.”
Fajer smiled. “As-salaam.” He released his younger brother and greeted Dufour. “How goes it?” he asked in French.
“Excellent, I believe. We are in Allah’s hands,” the young man answered.
“Good.” Fajer found a seat. He could not remember when last he had felt so confident, so certain. Earlier that week he’d alerted George Carlton to look for any government knowledge of, or concern over, the name Superphreak, spelled with a ph. He’d received no alert and was feeling better about the security of the jihad.
“Infidels already die for Allah.” Fajer smiled warmly. “And many, many more will soon follow.”
46
DEPARTMENT OF HOMELAND SECURITY, WASHINGTON, D.C.
DIVISION OF COUNTER CYBERTERRORISM
FRIDAY, SEPTEMBER 1
3:14 P.M.
As soon as he returned to his office, George Carlton regretted the half bottle of red wine he’d indulged in over a late lunch when he realized whom he was about to meet. He popped a breath mint and willed himself to be more alert.
In the years since 9/11, Carlton had experienced no guilt over his decision to sit on Jeff Aiken’s report. He’d always considered it too lurid and imprecise to have had any impact on his superiors. It would only have raised questions about the kind of operation he ran in those days, and nothing would have happened in response to it anyway. Look at that FBI agent in Phoenix. They’d ignored his repeated reports about Arabs learning to fly commercial airplanes but not wanting to practice takeoffs or landings. He’d been lucky not to get fired.
Only after he was at DHS did Carlton retrieve the report one afternoon and read it in detail for the first time since he’d received it. He’d been chilled by its prescience. In detail it had contained many inaccuracies, though it was difficult to say that the suggested targets hadn’t actually been intended, just not carried out. Of particular note was that Jeff had identified the operation as Al Qaeda.
To think that 9/11 would have been thwarted if the CIA and the