Location: SGDSN Crisis Room, under the Hôtel des Invalides (Paris)
Date: March 1989
Point of view: Omniscient (Focus on the State Apparatus)
Twenty meters below the Hôtel des Invalides, out of sight, eavesdropping and Parisian agitation, was the bunker of the General Secretariat for Defense and National Security (SGDSN). It was an ageless room, padded with acoustic panels, where the air conditioning diffused a slight hum in the background.
On that Tuesday in March 1989, the heavy armored door had been locked from the inside. No secretary or aide-de-camp had been allowed to enter it.
Around the oval table of solid mahogany sat only four men.
At the head of the table, the Minister of Defense, his face heavy and his features hollowed out by lack of sleep, nervously fiddled with a silver fountain pen. To his right stood the Admiral, Chief of Staff of the Armed Forces, his jaw clenched in his dark uniform. Facing him was the General of Division of the DGA, who had supervised Balard's operation a month earlier. Finally, silent and phlegmatic, the Director of the DGSE, the French foreign intelligence service.
A single file with a red cover classified "Top Secret" lay in the center of the table.
"Let us sum up the situation," the Minister said in a low, almost gravelly voice, breaking the heavy silence. "A month ago, the French Defence Procurement Agency (DGA) organised a routine test on a new civil IT architecture proposed by the French company Volta S.A. During this test, you claimed that a major incident had occurred."
The Minister turned his gaze on the General of the DGA.
"General, it was you who were in that room in the third basement of Balard. Relate the facts. I want to hear it from your lips, without the jargon of your engineers. »
The General cleared his voice, standing perfectly straight.
"Mr. Minister, the facts are brutally simple. The server designed by this company, the IMPERATOR model, managed to break the new Soviet encryption standard in less than forty minutes. This in itself is a major achievement. But the crisis does not come from there. In accordance with our procedure, my men connected this server to our local network to archive the decrypted Russian document on our central database. »
The senior officer took a slow breath.
"The very second the network connection was established, our own central supercomputer, the American-made Cray X-MP, launched a massive automated computer attack on the Volta machine. He tried to force access to it to copy the Russian document. »
The Admiral crossed his arms roughly. "A machine doesn't launch an attack on its own, General. This is a mistake in the handling of your technicians. A network routing bug. »
"That's what we thought at first, Admiral," the Director of the DGSE interjected, in an icy and calm tone. "But my services have spent the last four weeks dissecting the incident. Volta's young CEO, Monsieur Bonaparte, provided us with the full event logs from his firewall. We then commissioned our top cryptologists at Service Action to silently audit the US Cray X-MP. »
The Director of the DGSE stepped forward and opened the red folder, taking out a few sheets covered with lines of hexadecimal codes highlighted in yellow.
"The Volta engineer's diagnosis was perfectly accurate," the intelligence chief confirmed. "There were no bugs. Our experts have identified an undocumented routine, a backdoor, buried deep within the supercomputer's microcode. A sleepy script that is automatically activated as soon as it detects data flows of high strategic value, such as foreign cryptographic signatures. Once enabled, this script silently copies the data and creates invisible packets that are sent outwards during routine machine updates. »
The Minister of Defense stopped playing with his pen. The metallic noise ceased.
"Outwards?" repeated the Minister. "To whom?"
"To relay servers located in West Germany, at the Ramstein air base, before being shipped by satellite," said the Director of the DGSE. "Directly in the databases of the National Security Agency, the American NSA. At Fort Meade. »
The silence that fell on the situation room was terrifyingly dense. It was the silence of capitulation.
The Admiral turned pale under his breath.
"You are telling me at the top of the state," said the Chief of Staff, his voice trembling with suppressed rage, "that the supercomputer that centralizes the intelligence of the Directorate General of Armaments has been, for the past year, a tool of direct espionage piloted by Washington? That they read our debriefings? That they have access to our summaries on the Eastern bloc? »
"Not only on the Eastern Bloc, Admiral. On you. On us," corrected the Director of the DGSE mercilessly. "They know what we are looking for, what we are finding, and most importantly, what we are not knowing. But Mr. Minister... Unfortunately, this is not the worst. »
The Minister closed his eyes for a fraction of a second, taking the pressure. "Go on."
"The DGA is not the only institution of the Republic to have equipped itself with the American company Cray Research," recalled the head of the secret services, turning over a page of the file. "Logically, we have extended our stealth audit to the rest of the state apparatus. We found the same backdoor, the same NSA software signature, in two other supercomputers in our country. »
The General of the DGA swallowed painfully. He knew who these customers were.
"The first is in Toulouse," said the Director of the DGSE. "At the Météo-France computing centre."
"Météo-France?" the Admiral asked, perplexed. "Why would the NSA be interested in the rainfall of the Aquitaine basin?"
"Because Météo-France doesn't just make rain and shine, Admiral," said the Minister of Defense, his voice darkened by gravity. "They are the ones who calculate the dispersion models of the radioactive plumes. In the event of a nuclear attack on the national territory, or in the event of a French strike, it is their supercomputer that models the fallout according to the winds. »
"Exactly," confirmed the DGSE. "America knows our post-apocalyptic survival patterns. And finally... the second infected Cray is in the centre of Bruyères-le-Châtel. »
This time, it was the Minister's turn to absorb the kinetic impact of the information. Bruyères-le-Châtel was the beating heart of the French Atomic Energy Commission (CEA). The Directorate of Military Applications. The very place where France designed, simulated and perfected its thermonuclear nuclear warheads.
"The strike force... murmured the Minister, thunderstruck.
France, which had left NATO's integrated command in 1966 at the instigation of General de Gaulle to guarantee its absolute independence, France, the world's third nuclear power, had just discovered that the keystone of its deterrence lay in booby-trapped machines.
Their American "allies" knew the yields of their warheads. They knew the progress of their research. They had a window opening onto the national shrine.
"How long have we been compromised?" asked the Minister, his face pale.
"Since the day of the installation of these machines, Mr. Minister," replied the General of the DGA. "They sold us the most powerful supercomputers in the world with a smile, knowing full well that the microcode in their processors was a Trojan horse. If it hadn't been for this test with the Volta company's server... if their chip's hardware firewall hadn't abruptly blocked the Cray's attack by displaying these alerts, we probably would never have found out. »
The Minister of Defense leaned back in his seat, his gaze fixed on the red file.
The geopolitical vertigo was absolute. In March 1989, the world was turned upside down. In Eastern Europe, the Warsaw Pact was showing signs of irreversible fracturing. The Cold War was coming to an end, and the United States was poised to become the world's only undisputed and hegemonic hyperpower.
And America had just proved that, in this new world order, friendship did not exist. The alliance was only a façade word for technological submission.
"Very well," said the Minister of Defense at last, his voice returning to his customary harshness of a great clerk of the State. He clasped his hands on the table. "The observation is made. We have gangrene at the heart of the reactor. The question that now arises, gentlemen, is not how they did it, but how we are going to reply. »
Location: SGDSN Crisis Room, under the Hôtel des Invalides (Paris)
Date: March 1989
Point of view: Omniscient (Focus on the State Apparatus)
The Admiral struck the leather desk pad of the table with the flat of his hand. The echo slammed into the soundproof bunker of the SGDSN.
"These machines must be disconnected immediately!" thundered the Chief of Staff of the Armed Forces, his face flushed. "From tonight! I want the Bruyères-le-Châtel computing centre to be physically isolated. Then we summon the U.S. defense attaché and expel him from the country for gross espionage. If they want to play this game, we will display their betrayal in the public square. »
The Minister of Defense let the old sailor's anger shine through, then slowly shook his head.
"We won't do any of that, Admiral."
"Excuse me?" the soldier was offended. "Mr. Minister, they violate our nuclear integrity!"
"And it's March 1989," the Minister retorted in a cutting voice, brushing off the indignation with a wave of the hand. "Look at the map of the world. The Soviet Union is running out of steam, Chancellor Kohl is talking about reunification in veiled terms, and the world economy is in full transformation. If we unleash a diplomatic scandal of this magnitude today, we are fracturing NATO at the worst possible time. »
The Minister leaned forward, anchoring his gaze on the Admiral's.
"Washington will deny it outright. They will blame a computer virus or an error by our own technicians. And in retaliation, they will freeze our trade agreements, block our arms exports, and cut off satellite intelligence sharing. We will be proud, of course, but we will be technologically and diplomatically isolated. Reasons of state require us to swallow this snake in the most absolute silence. »
"So we let them read over our shoulder?" the Admiral squeaked, disgusted.
"Absolutely not," the Director of the DGSE intervened in a suave tone.
The spymaster crossed his fingers, a thin cynical smile stretching his lips.
"If we abruptly pull the plug on the Cray supercomputers, the NSA will instantly understand that their backdoor has been discovered. They will look for another loophole, perhaps human this time, to penetrate our networks. No. These machines must be preserved. We even have to continue to feed them. »
The General of the DGA frowned. "Feeding them in what?"
"Intoxicated," the head of foreign intelligence replied with cold relish. "The honey pot technique. Since the Americans are silently sucking up our data, let's give them what they want to see. We are going to run nuclear simulations on these Cray X-MP with slightly distorted yields. We are going to send rewritten diplomatic cables and truncated budget reports through it. We are going to drown them under a deluge of false certainties. The NSA will continue to pump our hard drives, convinced that it will keep its strategic advantage, while we organize our real defense behind their backs. »
The Minister of Defense nodded his head slowly. Institutional deception was the perfect answer. The elegance of asymmetrical betrayal.
"This is an excellent counter-intelligence strategy," the Minister agreed. "But this raises a major logistical problem. If American supercomputers are only used to generate noise to put Washington to sleep... On what are we going to calculate the real nuclear deterrent? What are we going to design the future Rafale fighter on? What are we going to run France on? »
The Minister turned to the General of the DGA.
"General, can our national champions provide replacement infrastructure in a short timeframe? I'm thinking of Bull, or Thomson. »
The General made a sorry grimace.
"Bull is a dead end, Minister. Their heavy architectures are technologically a decade behind. In addition, in an attempt to remain competitive, they have recently signed partnership agreements to integrate processors... Americans. If we switch to Bull, we simply let the wolf in through another door. »
"So who?" insisted the Minister, the annoyance starting to creep in. "Don't tell me that we are condemned to calculate by hand!"
"There is only one viable alternative. The one that has proven itself in the basement of Balard," said the General in a confident voice. "The company Volta S.A."
The Admiral rolled his eyes. "They are video game designers. A handful of students in a suburban factory! »
"These 'students' designed an operating system and a network chip that blocked the NSA's intrusion in its tracks, Admiral," the General retorted dryly. "Their processors are not based on Silicon Valley architectures. Their source code is completely independent, written in France. The environment they offer, the IMPERATOR server, is impervious to any form of foreign interference. »
The Director of the DGSE came to support the soldier's remarks.
"My experts have turned their operating system upside down, Mr. Minister. It is a fortress. And the company has another advantage: it is young. It is not yet infiltrated by foreign boards of directors or mixed-capital investment funds. Lazare Bonaparte had absolute control of it. He is patriotic, ambitious, and his sales director is ready to deliver machines to us as a top priority. »
The Minister of Defense sank into his chair. Silence returned to the SGDSN bunker. The country's digital destiny rested on the table, between a silver pen and a red folder.
The French state had its back to the wall. Its historical IT giants had failed, mired in a sterile bureaucracy. The long-time allies had proved to be formidable spies.
"We need a new Calculation Plan," the Minister murmured, referring to the great project of computer independence launched by de Gaulle in 1966. "But this time, he will be in the shadows. Defense Secret. No public tenders. No ministerial announcement. »
The Minister stood up and looked at the General of the DGA.
"General, as of tomorrow, you will release the special funds allocated to the renewal of critical infrastructure. You place an order with Volta S.A. for the integral equipment of the French Atomic Energy Commission, the DGA, and the SGDSN. They will have to provide the central servers, the office terminals and the network architecture. »
"Good, Mr. Minister. But Volta's production volumes are likely to... »
"If their factory is too small, finance an extension for them!" the Minister cut him off rudely. "If they lack engineers, let them poach those from Bull! I don't care about the means. This twenty-two-year-old young man has just been designated by circumstances to become the digital backbone of the Republic. »
The Minister reopened the red file and signed it, sealing the secret directive.
"We are going to build a second state, under the first. A state propelled by Volta's architecture. And the Americans won't know until it's too late to take it away from us. »
The meeting was adjourned.
A few kilometers away, in the cold night of the red suburb of Ivry-sur-Seine, Lazare Bonaparte was sleeping on the sofa of his office. He didn't know it yet, but he had just won the most decisive victory of his young career, without having to say a word. The Empire was born.