Story Premise

A coordinated, high‑tech campaign uses weaponized drones, deepfakes and a polymorphic AI worm (DARKWIRE) to terrorize the United States and blind its defenders while a foreign intelligence operation exploits the chaos for strategic gain. An FBI field agent (Adam Conner) and a coerced cyber‑analyst (Camilla Diaz) race to expose the conspiracy, stop the worm and save civilians at terrible personal cost.

 

Antagonist Sketch

Maksim Romanov (Russian Intelligence Operative)

Age: Early 40s

Physical Description: Well-groomed with square jaw, close-cropped sandy brown hair, penetrating gray eyes. Slavic features softened by expensive suits and carefully cultivated mannerisms. Moves with measured grace maintaining physical fitness without advertising it. Small scar near right temple he doesn't conceal.

Background: Russian military intelligence. Holds advanced degrees in engineering and international relations. Maintains legitimate business interests as cover.

Personality Traits: Cold, calculating mastermind. Demonstrates unwavering confidence in decisions. No hesitation using extreme measures. Values efficiency and precision. Treats business and violence with same detachment. Chess player mentality - thinks in terms of pieces, positions, endgames. Subtle condescension about American "crudeness"

Story Significance: Orchestrates entire DARKWIRE operation. Uses Elena as leverage to coerce Camilla. Coordinates attacks while maintaining plausible deniability.

Speech Patterns: Precise, carefully chosen words in nearly accent-free English. Professional, almost cordial tone even when making threats. Direct statements, rarely engages in unnecessary conversation. Clipped and cold when provoked rather. Formal, educated phrasing. Historical references relating current events to Russian history.

 

Breakout Titles

Darkwire

Kill Chain

Shadow Protocol

 

Genre and Comps

Technothriller.

Daemon/Freedom – Daniel Suarez

Similar because both novels sit at the intersection of networked AI systems and real-world kinetic escalation.

Ghost Fleet – P.W. Singer & August Cole

Similar because both novels blend technical plausibility with grand strategy, specifically through hybrid war doctrine, infrastructure vulnerability and the interplay of cyber operations.

Zero Day – Jeff Aiken

Similar because both novels explore the ramifications of deeply trusted computing infrastructure being compromised.

 

Logline with Hook and Core Wound

When a catastrophic cyberattack threatens nuclear meltdowns across the Eastern seaboard, a haunted FBI agent must trust the blackmailed hacker he suspects of terrorism before Russian operatives trigger the digital weapon that could plunge America into chaos.

 

Sketch Inner Conflict

Adam Conner is a field agent who traded family for duty. Camilla Diaz is a brilliant analyst who is being blackmailed to protect her autistic sister. When drone assassins and a silent cyber-worm threaten the country, both are thrown into a collision course with each other. Adam has to decide how much he’ll bend the rules he swore to uphold. Meanwhile Camilla, coerced and grieving, must make a final, selfless hack that could either save millions or doom herself.

 

Setting

The primary settings are the Washington DC metro area and Baltimore harbor district. Adam Conner largely bases his activity in the institutionally beige government buildings of the FBI. Maksim Romanov largely bases his operation in an abandoned pharmaceutical warehouse in a gritty, decayed portion of Baltimore. There are also two cinematic set pieces in Las Vegas and at the Alaska Pipeline.

 

 

The first 500 words of the opening chapter of my Techno-thriller - Darkwire. This introduces the protagonist, setting and tone. 

 

CHAPTER 1 - “ATTACK”

FBI Agent Adam Conner pressed his back against a towering elm and swept his gaze across the National Mall’s Fourth of July crowd. The air smelled of grilled meat, cotton candy, and sunscreen. Every breath was summer, but the bass beat from the band stage thumped through his feet like rotor-wash.

His hand drifted to his side, checking for the Glock where his M16 used to ride. Fifteen years as a field agent and two tours in Iraq had left him cataloging threats: the teenager in the oversized jacket, the delivery van idling too long, the couple arguing near the monument. Around him, people enjoyed their lives without looking for danger in every shadow. The thought felt alien. Uncomfortable. Like a shirt that no longer fit.

His partner, Mike Santos, had cornered him at the coffee machine yesterday, all six-foot-two of Texas persistence. “Normal people go places on weekends. See things. Talk to people who ain’t wearing badges.”

Adam glanced at his watch. 1437 hours. He estimated a ninety-minute minimum to satisfy Mike’s definition of “normal behavior.” Then back to the Bureau, where case files didn’t make small-talk and evidence didn’t ask how his weekend went.

His phone buzzed. Mike, checking on him like a worried mother hen.

You there yet?

Adam thumbed back: Position secure. Crowd density manageable. Zero threats.

Jesus, Conner. Can you speak human?

Adam smiled. I’m here. People. Music. Food on sticks. Happy?

Pics or it didn’t happen.

Adam raised his phone and snapped a selfie with the Washington Monument in the background. His forty-five-year-old face looked foreign to him. Crow’s feet bracketed eyes that tracked the Monument’s reflection for threats even in a selfie. Mike was right. He looked like he was planning an assault on the funnel cake stand.

Adam bought a beer and dropped onto the grass. The cold aluminum sweated in his palm. Around him, teenagers shrieked, couples tangled fingers. He watched them the way he watched security footage. Present but analyzing patterns. His mind drifted to the Morrison case file waiting on his desk.

Movement at two o’clock, fifty feet elevation. His eyes tracked the object before conscious thought labeled it: quadcopter, professional grade. The beer hit the grass. His body moved before his mind caught up, the same way it had in Fallujah when the first mortar whistled in.

The drone descended in a measured arc. Not the herky-jerky movement of weekend hobbyists, but the controlled descent of someone who’d practiced this exact maneuver. Matte black finish, commercial airframe modified for... what?

Adam’s hand moved to his holster. Range forty meters, minimal cover between current position and closest hard structure. He scanned the area for security personnel. The Park Police had officers stationed around the perimeter, but none seemed to notice the drone. It wasn’t the only one either. Now that he was looking, Adam counted nine more drones, each moving in coordinated patterns above different sections of the crowd. His stomach tightened.

Their flight pattern bothered him. They weren’t capturing panoramic footage or following the action. They were...searching.