<
Alex figured it was Homosoto since this was a very private com- puter. His other computer, an AST 386SX with 330 MB of storage was the one his recruits called with reports. The 25 Sir George's of his army called twice a day. Once to get their assignments and once to send him the results of their efforts.
They didn't have to call long distance, though, and never knew that Alex ran his part of Homosoto's operation from Europe. Sir George and his hidden compatriots used their untraceable cellular phones and merely called a local phone number within their area code. Alex's communications group had set up a widely diverse network of call forwarding telephones to make tracing the calls impossible. They exploited all of the common services that helped make his and Homosoto's armies invisible.
Yes, sir.
So soon?
Monday? Are you sure? With no warning?
No
Alex started at the word 'please'. He had never seen Homosoto ever use it before.
Of course. As you wish.
It is complex.
The reservations systems of American, Delta, Pan Am and TWA. It will shut down air travel for weeks.
The NBC, CBS and ABC communications computers. We have people working in each network. Plus, we have land based transmitters to garble and override network satellite transmis- sions. Quite a neat trick actually. I'm impressed with the technology.
The list is long. Groundhogs are at the Home Shopping Network,American Express and other credit card companies. The Center forDisease Control, Hospitals, the IRS, Insurance Companies. Withina week, their computers will be empty and useless.
Very much so. It is appreciated.
No. Why?
Yes. I assume I ask no questions?
At least you know where I stand.
Consider it done. How much more?
<<<<<
* * * * *
He couldn't believe it. Scott had just watched Nightline, and who was the guest? Madonna. How ridiculous. She badly needed English lessons not to mention a brain. He was relieved when the call came.
I'm here, Kirk. You're two minutes late.
I had to sit through a half hour of Madonna explaining why she masterbates on MTV.
You sound happy tonight.
What have you got?
No shit.
Continue, oh messenger of doom.
I'm hanging on your every byte.
Is that large?
You've got to be kidding. A million people in on it?
A few? How many are a few?
And in exchange, they have to sell Freedom Software.
And the franchisers, of course! They set up their own distribu- tion of viruses.
Why, how do you know that?
So it was staged, set up?
A million bucks. Chump change.
Just a friend. What else?
Is every one infected?
Who else knows.
Aren't you worried about a repeat performance on your computers?
I'll call you. My main man is going to want to talk to you.
* * * * *
Monday, January 18New York City Times
dGRAPH INFECTED WITH VIRUS: DGI OFFERS FREE UPGRADES.by Scott Mason
In an unprecedented computer software announcement, DGI President and industry magnate Pierre Troubleaux admitted that every copy of dGraph sold since late 1987 contains and is infected with highly dangerous and contagious computer viruses.
He blamed Taki Homosoto, chairman of OSO Industries, and the parent company of DGI for the viruses that Troubleaux said were implanted on purpose.
Mr. Homosoto had no comment on the allegations.
Since there are so many different viruses present in the dozens of dGraph versions, (Mr. Troubleaux estimates there may be as many as 500) it is impossible to determine the exact detonation dates or anticipated damage. Therefore DGI is offering free uninfected copies of dGraph to every registered user.
Industry reaction was strong, but surprisingly non-critical of DGI's dilemma. In general the reaction was one of shock and disbelief. "If this is true," said one source, "the amount of damage done will be incalculable." He went on to say that since the virus problem has been largely ignored, very few businesses have any sort of defensive measures in place. Estimates are that large companies have the most to lose when the dGraph Virus explodes.
The major software manufacturers came to DGI's support saying, ". . .it was bound to happen sooner or later. We're just glad it didn't happen to us." Leading software firms including Micro- soft, Lotus, Computer Associates and Borland have offered their disk duplication and shipping facilities to assist DGI in dis- tributing over four million copies of the program.
Even with such support policies by DGI and the assistance of the software industry, there is a great fear that the infected dGraph programs have communicated viruses to other programs and comput- ers. According to Ralph Potter of the International Virus Asso- ciation, "This is a disaster of unfathomable proportions. It could not be much worse than if DOS had been carrying a virus for years. The designers knew what they were doing, waiting so long before the viruses were triggered to go off. The ultimate Trojan Horse."
The National Computer Systems Laboratory at the National Insti- tute of Standards and Technology issued a terse statement saying that they would soon publish recommended procedures to minimize the effects of the current virus crisis. They predicted at least 2 millions personal computers would be stricken with the dGraph Viruses.
One dGraph User Group in Milwaukee, Wisconsin has begun a class action suit against DGI and OSO on behalf of all users who have damage done to their computers and or data. They claim at least 10,000 co-plaintiffs on the initial filing with District Court in Milwaukee and are asking for $10 Billion in damages.
End.
Scott's story went on to describe that the FBI and Secret Service were taking the threat as a national security risk and would make a public statement in a day or so. Leading software industry prophets were quoted, all taking credit for warning the computer industry that such massive assaults were predictable and prevent- able. They blamed the government and computer manufacturers for laxidazical handling of a serious problem that could have been prevented. Scott had to make a large chart to keep track of the competitive finger pointing from the experts.
DGI's stock fell 75% after the announcement until the SEC sus- pended its trading.
* * * * *
The Associated Press wire announcement was followed in seconds by the one from UPI. Doug tore it off the printer and raced it over to Scott.
"I believe this will be of interest to you . . ." Doug chuckled as Scott read the wire.
Tokyo, Japan: Taki Homosoto, the billionaire founder and chairman of OSO Industries, was found dead this afternoon in his opulent Tokyo office. According to police and company spokespersons, Mr. Homosoto died by his own hands in tradi- tional Japanese warrior fashion; hari-kari. His body was found curled up in a pool of blood with the ritualistic sword penetrating his abdomen protruding from his lower back.
Police say they discovered a note on his person that ex- plained the apparent suicide. The letter is believed to have been hand written by Mr. Homosoto. The contents of that letter, as released by the Tokyo police follow:
Honorable Friends,
I now resign as Chairman of OSO Industries. My time is over.
For almost 50 years I have waited to see the United States and its people suffer as my people did during those terrible days in August. The United States gave our people no warn- ing, and tens of thousands of innocent women and children died without purpose. This criminal sin is one which the United States and its people will have to live with for all eternity.
Yet, out of compassion for the millions of innocent bystand- ers who are helplessly trapped by their government's indif- ference to human life, I will give the American people a warning: Without your computers your future is dim, and your present becomes the past.
When I was told about the attack plans on the United States, I admit that I was a willing but skeptical buyer. I found it hard to believe, indeed incredible, that the greatest military power on Earth was so foolish. I learned that there were no defenses for the computers that run your country. How unfortunate for you.
It was shown me how to execute the plans which invade the very bastions of Western Imperialism; and I have succeeded admirably. You will not recover for years, as we did not after your hideous attack upon our land.
By the time you read this, I will be dead and happy. Mycreations will have taken hold, and unshakeable from theirroots, will spread chaos and distrust. This is the world'sfirst computer war and I have waged it and I will win it.
Retaliate! Retaliate, if you wish, if you can; but you will not, you cannot. Who do you attack? My country? They had nothing to do with it. My company? I will be dead and there is no double jeopardy in death.
You have nothing to say, and nothing to do in response. As we did not after your fire-bombs landed. We could say nothing.
Helplessness is a terrible feeling. It is one of loneli- ness, solitude in a personal hell which your people shall suffer as they learn to live without the luxuries of tech- nology. You will pay for your ancestor's mistakes.
To the memory and honor of my family.
Taki Homosoto
* * * * *
Scott Mason called Tyrone Duncan immediately.
"I know," said Tyrone, sounding out of breath. "We're on it.Pierre's getting additional protection. It turns out that Mr.Homosoto isn't as pure as the driven snow like he pretends tobe."
"How do you mean?" Scott asked.
"Off the record."
"Background." The negotiation on press terms was complete.
"All right, but be careful. It seems that since the 1940's Mr. Homosoto has been performing some very lucrative services for our friends at the Pentagon. He has some influential friends in Congress and uses an assortment of lobbying firms to promote his interests."
"What's so unusual about that?" Asked Scott.
"Nothing, until you see that certain Congressmen got very wealthy when OSO Industries built plants in their districts. Heavy PAC contributions, blind distribution of small contributing funds. It also appears that he regularly entertained high Pentagon offi- cials in the finest fashion. Paris, Tokyo, Rio, Macao. Influ- ence pedaling and bribery. We have traced a path from Tokyo to the Pentagon that has resulted in OSO subsidiaries receiving large non-classified government contracts. Take dGraph for example. That's a de facto standard for all agencies."
"I never thought about that. Everyone in the government usesit."
"Just like the private sector. I'm on my way to have a little talk with your Mr. Foster. I don't believe in coincidences."
"Good, where?" Asked Scott excitedly.
"Whoah! Wait a minute. This is official now, and I can't have a civilian . . ."
"Bullshit!" Scott yelled into the phone. "Don't you get GI on me. I gave him to you. Remember? Besides, I know him. And I might have something else."
"What's that?"
"What if I told you that the Freedom League is part of it? And that it's being run by foreign nationals."
"So what?" asked Tyrone.
"How far did you check into the van driver's background? Wasn't he Arab?" Scott offered tidbits that he thought relevant.
"Yeah . . ."
"When are you meeting Foster?"
Tyrone thought carefully about Scott's words. "Listen, I have to get a warrant anyway. It'll probably take till tomorrow." Tyrone paused for the subtle offer to sink in to Scott. "He's listed. Gotta go."
One hell of a guy, thought Scott. If it ever got out that Tyrone worked with the media like this, he would be immediately retired, if not possibly prosecuted. But nobody else was doing anything, and Scott had given them Foster on a silver platter. He would save the Freedom League story for the moment.
* * * * *
The Motorola STU-III secure phone rang on the credenza behind Marvin Jacobs desk. He had been Director of the National Securi- ty Agency, DIRNSA, since 1984, installed in that position because he gave the distinct impression that he didn't care about any- thing except satisfying his mentor; in this case Vice President Bush.
The STU-III phone added funny electronic effects to the voices that spoke over it; all in the interest of national security.
"Hello?" Jacobs asked.
"Homosoto is dead."
"I heard," Jacobs said. "It sounded clean."
"Very pro. Won't be a problem."
* * * * *
Scott saw the galley for the afternoon paper. The headline, in 3 inch letters shocked him:
He immediately called Senator Nancy Deere.
"I was going to call you," she said. "I guess you've heard."
"Yes, what happened?" He shouted excitedly over the rumble of the high speed train.
"I guess I should take the blame," Nancy said. "When I confront- ed the Senator this morning, he just stared at me. Never said a word. I begged him for an explanation, but he sat there, expres- sionless. He finally got up and left."
"That's it? What happens now?"
"I see the President," she said.
"May I ask why?"
"Off the record," she insisted.
"Sure." Scott agreed. What's one more source I can't name.
"I heard about the resignation from the White House. Phil Mus- grave. He said the President was very concerned and wanted a briefing from my perspective. He's beginning to feel some heat on the computer crimes and doesn't have a clue. I figure they need to get up to speed real fast."
"It's about time," Scott said out loud. "They've been ignoring this forever."
"And," Senator Deere added, "they want you there, too. Tomorrow, 9A.M."
The hair on Scott's neck stood on end. A command performance from the White House?
"Why, why me?
"You seem to know more than they do. They think you're wired into the hackers and Homosoto."
"I'll be there," Scott managed to get out. "What do I do . . .?"
"Call Musgrave's office at the White House."
"I bet the paper's going nuts. I didn't tell them I had left or where I was going," Scott laughed.
Scott called Doug who had half of the paper looking high and low for him. "You made the big time, huh kid?" Doug said feigning snobbery. "What world shattering events precipitated this mag- nanimous call?" In fact he was proud. Very proud of Scott.
Scott explained to Doug that he would call after the White House meeting, and he wasn't quite sure why he was going, and that Nancy was taking over the hearings and he would stay in DC for a few days. And no, he wouldn't tell more than was in print, not without calling Doug or Higgins - at any hour.
Doug sounded relieved when Scott volunteered that there would be no hotel bills. Phew. Forever the cheap skate. The story of the year and he's counting pennies. God, Doug was a good editor.
Scott's stories on computer crime and specifically the dGraph situation aroused national attention. Time, Newsweek and dozens of periodicals began following the story, but Scott, at Doug's suggestion, had wisely held back enough information that would guarantee the privacy and quality of his sources.
He was right in the middle of it, perhaps making news as much as reporting it, but with Doug's and the Times' guidance, Scott and the paper were receiving accolades on their fair yet direct treatment of the issues.
Doug thought that Scott was perhaps working on the story of the year, or maybe the decade, but he never told him so. However, Scott was warned that as the story became major national news, the exclusivity that he and the Times had enjoyed would be in jeopardy. Get it while the getting is hot.
No problem.
It just so happened Scott knew Miles Foster personally.
* * * * *
"Sonja? I'm coming down. Tonight. Can you recommend a good hotel?" He jibed at her while packing away his laptop computer for the trip to Washington. He called her and was going to leave a message, but instead he was rewarded with her answering the phone.
"Chez Lindstrom is nice, but the rates are kind of high."
"King or twin beds? Room with a view? Room service?"
"E, all of the above," she laughed. "Want me to pick you up atNational?"
"Naw, I'll take the train from work. I may need to buy a few things when I get there, like a suitcase and a wardrobe. It's kind of last minute."
"I gather I wasn't the prime reason for your sudden trip," Sonja said in fun.
"No, it was, I wanted to come, but I had to do some . . .and then I found out about . . .well I have to be there tomorrow, but I am leaving a day early." He pleaded for understanding, not realiz- ing she was kidding him. He couldn't tell her why he was being so circumspect. Nothing about the meeting.
"Well," she said dejectedly, "I guess it's O.K. If."
"If what?" Scott brightened.
"If we can have a couple of friends over for dinner. There's someone I'd like you to meet."
* * * * *
"Holy shit," Scott said as Sonja opened her apartment door and admitted Miles and the stunning Stephanie.
Miles stopped in his tracks and stared at Scott. Then at Stepha- nie. "What's the deal?" he said accusingly.
"This is Sonja Lindstrom and her friend Scott Mason," Stephanie said. "What's wrong, hon?" She still had her arm wrapped around Miles' arm.
"It's just that, well, we've met, and I was just kind of sur- prised, that's all." He extended a hand at Scott. "Good to see you again." Scott warmly reciprocated. This was going to be an interesting evening.
"Yeah, ditto," Scott said, confused. "What happened to you? I thought you were coming back?" He was speaking of Amsterdam.
"Well, I was a little occupied, if you recall," Miles said refer- ring to the triplets in Amsterdam. "And business forced me to depart earlier than I had anticipated."
"Where? To Japan?" Scott awaited a reaction by Miles, but was disappointed when there was none.
Stephanie and Sonja wondered how the two had already met; it was their job to report such things to Alex, but it really didn't matter any more. They were quitting.
The first round of drinks was downed quickly and the tension in the room abated slightly. The four spoke casually, albeit some- what guardedly. The harmless small talk was only a prelude to Scott's question when the girls stepped into the kitchen. Per- haps they left the room on purpose.
"Listen," Scott whispered urgently to Miles. "I know who you are, and that you're tied up with Homosoto and the computer nutsiness that's going on everywhere. You have a lot of people looking for you and we only have a few seconds," Scott said glancing up at the kitchen door. "I see the situation as fol- lows. You get to tell your side of the story to the authorities in private, or you can tell me first and I put it in tomorrow's paper. This may be your only chance to get your side of the story out. All of sudden, you're big news. What'll it be?" Scott spoke confidently and waited for Miles' answer.
Miles intently scanned every inch of Scott's face in minute detail. "That fucking gook. You're damn right I'll talk. First of all, it's a lie," Miles hissed. "If they're coming after me, I have to protect myself. Can't trust a fucking slant eye, can you?"
The girls returned with fresh drinks and sat down on the white leather couch. Miles and Scott continued their discussion.
"What happened?" Scott asked. Miles looked over at the stunning Sonja, stripping her naked with his stare and then at Stephanie who had caught his stare.
"It's very simple," Miles said after a while. His dimples deep- ened while he forced a smile. "Homosoto's fucked us all." He nodded his head as he looked at his three companions. "Me. Royally. How the hell can I defend myself against accusations from the grave." He shrugged his shoulders. "And you," he point- ed at Scott. "You've kept the fear going. Haven't you. You picked up the scent and you've been writing about it for months. Setting his stage for him. Like a puppet. And then? After you sensitize the public, he commits suicide. He used you."
"And then, you two," Miles said to Stephanie and Sonja. "You could be out in the cold in days. Bet you didn't know you were in on it. Am I right?"
"In on what?" Scott asked Miles and Sonja.
"Tell him," Miles said to Sonja. "I've never met you, but I can guess what you do for a living."
"She's a PR person," interjected Scott.
"Go on, tell him, or I will," Miles said again.
Sonja's eyes pleaded with Miles to stop it. Please, stop. I'll do it in my own way, in time. Please, stop. Scott glowered at Miles' words and awaited a response from Sonja. How could he distrust her? But what did Miles mean?
The front door bell rang and broke the intense silence. It rang again as Sonja went to answer.
"Yes, he's here," she whispered.
The door opened and Tyrone Duncan came into the room while anoth- er man stood at the door. Tyrone walked up to Miles. Scott was in absolute awe. How the hell? Ty had said tomorrow.
"Mr. Foster? Miles Foster?" Tyrone asked without pleasantries.
"Yeah," Miles said haughtily.
"FBI," Ty said flashing his badge. "You're under arrest for trafficking in stolen computer access cards and theft of serv- ice." Tyrone took a breath and waved a piece of paper in the air. "We searched your apartment and found telephone company access codes that . . . "
"I want to call my lawyer," Miles interrupted calmly. "Now," he commanded.
" . . . have been used to bypass billing procedures."
"I said I want to call my lawyer," Miles again said emphatical- ly.
"I'll be out in an hour," he said aside to Stephanie and kissed her on the cheek. His arrogance was unnerving; this wasn't the same Miles that Scott had known in Amsterdam. There, he was just another misguided but well-intentioned techno-anarchist who was more danger to himself than anyone else. But now, as Tyrone read a list of charges against him, mostly arcane FBI domain inter- state offenses, Miles took on a new character. A worldly crimi- nal whom the FBI was arresting for potential terrorist activi- ties.
"And those are for starters, Mister," Tyrone said after reading off a list of penal violations by code number. As if following a script, Tyrone added, "you have the right to remain silent . . ." He wanted to make sure that this was a clean arrest, and with this many witnesses, he was going to follow procedure to the letter. Mirandizing was one of the steps.
Scott Mason's adrenaline flowed with intensity. Did he ever have a story to tell now! An absolute scoop. He was present, coinci- dentally, during the arrest of Miles Foster.
Front page.
"I want to call my lawyer," Miles repeated.
"Make it quick," said Tyrone. Miles rapidly dialed a number from memory.
Miles turned his back on Tyrone and the others and spoke calmly into the phone.
"It's me."
Pause.
"It's me. I need assistance."
Arrogance. Pause.
"A laundry list of charges."
Disinterest. Pause.
"Had to happen, sooner or later, yeah," Miles said happily.Pause.
"I gotta dinner party. I don't want to miss it." He smiled at Stephanie and blew a kiss. "Great. Make it quick." Miles hung up.
Miles turned to Tyrone and held his wrists out together in front of him. "Let's go," Miles said still smiling cooly.
Tyrone gently snapped the cuffs on Miles and ushered him toward the door.
"Back in an hour or so," Miles defiantly said to Scott, Sonja and Stephanie over his shoulder as the front door closed behind Miles and his escorts.
Scott watched in disbelief. Miles, the Spook, ever so calm, cool and collected. Not a fluster. Not a blush.
Who had he called? That was the question that bothered Scott throughout the rest of the evening.
* * * * *
The White House, Washington, D.C.
The President looked grim. The normally affable Republican had won his second term by a landslide and had maintained unprece- dented popularity. The Democrats had again been unable to con- jure up a viable candidate after another string of scandals rocked the primaries and the very foundation of the party itself Their entire platform focused on increasing the Peace Dividend beyond the aggressively reduced $180 Billion Defense budget. It was not much of an attack on a President whose popularity never fell below an astounding 65% approval, and the only ebb was due to a minor White House incident involving a junior aide, the junior aide's boyfriend and the Lincoln Bedroom.
The recession that was started by the Iraqi situation in Kuwait during the summer of 1990 was not as bad as it could have been. The world wide militaristic fever, proper Fed Reserve response and the Japanese all took credit for easing the problem through their specific efforts. In fact, the recession was eased due in part to all of their efforts as well the new Europe. The Presi- dent was rewarded, ultimately, with the credit for renewing the economy almost glitch-free.
But the President was still grim. America was again at war, and only a handful of people in the upper echelons of the Government even knew about it. It would be in the paper in the morning.
****************************************************************
Midnight, Tuesday, January 19Scarsdale, New York
Scott Mason awaited Kirk's midnight call.
Now that they had a deal, a win-win situation, Kirk and his phriends had become gung-ho. Kirk agreed to help Scott in the dGraph and Freedom situations if Scott would make sure that his articles clearly spelled out the difference between the white-hat and black-hat hackers.
Journalistic responsibility demanded fair treatment of all sides and their respective opinions, and Scott attempted to bring objectivity to his analyses. He did this well, quite well, and still was able to include his own views and biases, as long as they were properly qualified and disclaimed.
Additionally, Kirk wanted assurances of total anonymity and that Scott would not attempt to identify his location or name. Scott also had to agree to keep his Federal friends at a distance and announce if they were privy to the conversations.
In exchange for fair portrayals in the press, privacy and no government intervention, Kirk promised Scott that the resources of Nemo would be focussed on finding defenses to the virus at- tacks in dGraph and Freedom software. If Kirk and Homosoto were right, millions of computers would experience the electronic equivalent of sudden cardiac arrest in less than two weeks.
The Times, Higgins and Doug agreed to the relationship but added their own working caveats. In order to treat Kirk as a protected source, they pretended he was a personal contact. Instead of reporter's notes, Scott maintained an open file which recorded the entirety of their computer conversations. There were no precedents for real-time electronic note taking, but Higgins felt confident that the records would protect the paper in any event. Besides, Supreme Court rulings now permit the recording of con- versations by hidden devices, as long as the person taping is actually present. Again, Higgins felt he had solid position, but he did ask Scott to ask Kirk's permission to save the conversa- tions on disk. Kirk always agreed.
At midnight, Scott's computer beeped the anticipated beep.
I heard a good one.
Yeah, do they work over computer?
Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs were in Europe and got to meet the Pope. Dopey really wanted to asked the Pope a few questions. "Mr. Pope, Mr. Pope. Do you have pretty nuns?" "Of course we do, Dopey." "Mr. Pope, do you have fat ugly nuns?" "Why, yes, Dopey, we do." "And I bet, Mr. Pope, that you have some tall skinny nuns, too." "Yes, Dopey we do." "Mr. Pope? Do you have nuns in Chicago?" "Yes, Dopey, we have nuns in Chicago?" "And in San Francisco and New York?" "Yes, Dopey." "And do you have nuns in Africa and Australia and in France?" "Yes, Dopey. We have nuns everywhere." Dopey took a second to think and finally asked, "Mr. Pope? Do you have nuns in Antarc- tica?" "No, Dopey, I'm sorry, we don't have any nuns in Antarc- tica." The other six dwarfs immediately broke out into a laugh- ing song: "Dopey fucked a penguin. Dopey fucked a penguin."
Facetious?
You bet. No plagiarism. What have you got?
Daily. Our science section has been expanded to every day from just Tuesday. I have all the room I need.
Just the facts, ma'am. Just the facts.
I suggest we start with the dGraph viruses. You said 54, right?
Send me the file and I still may have time to get it into tomor- row's paper. They usually leave a little room.
I think I can handle it.
* * * * *
DGRAPH VIRUS LIST by Scott Mason
The dGraph Virus Crisis has set the computer industry into a virtual tailspin with far reaching effects including stock prices, delayed purchasing, contract cancellation and a bevy of reported lawsuits in the making.
All the same, the effects of the Crisis must be mitigated, and the New York City Times will be providing daily information to assist our readers in fighting the viruses. DGraph is now known to contain at least 54 different viruses, each designed to exe- cute different forms of damage to your computer.
According to computer security experts there are two ways to deal with the present virus crisis. The best way to make sure that an active security system is in place in your computer. Recommenda- tions vary, but it is generally agreed by most experts that security, especially in the highly susceptible desktop and laptop personal computers, should be hardware based. Security in soft- ware is viewed to be ineffective against well designed viruses or other offensive software mechanisms.
The second way to combat the effects of the dGraph Virus, but certainly not as effective, is to build a library of virus signa- tures and search all of your computers for matches that would indicate a viral infection. This technique is minimally effec- tive for many reasons: Mutating viruses cause the signature to change every time it infects another program, rendering the virus unidentifiable. There is no way to be sure that all strains have been identified. Plus, there is no defense against subsequent viral attacks, requiring defensive measures to be reinstituted every time.
Preliminary predictions by computer software experts are that between 1 and 5 million IBM compatible computers will be severely effected by the dGraph Viruses. Computers tied to local area and wide area networks are likely to be hit hardest.
Beginning today, we will publish the known dGraph Virus charac- teristics daily to help disseminate the defensive information as rapidly as possible.
dGraph Version 3.0
Virus #1Detonation Date: 2/2/XXSymptoms: Monitor blinks on an off, dims and gets bright.Size: 2413Signature: 0F 34 E4 DD 81 A1 C3 34 34 34
Virus #2, #3, #4, #5Same as above but different dates.2/3/XX, 2/4/XX, 2/5/XX, 2/6/XX
Virus #6Detonation Date: 2/2/XXSymptoms: Erases hard disk.Size: 1908Signature: E4 EE 56 01 01 C1 C1 00 01 02
Virus #7Detonation Date: 1/22/XXSymptoms: Reformats hard drive.Size: 2324Signature: 00 F1 8E E3 AA 01 F5 6B 0B 0D
Virus #8Detonation Date: 1/23/XXSymptoms: Over exercises hard disk heads causing failure.Requires hard disk to be replaced.Size: 2876Signature: FF 45 7A 20 96 E6 22 1F 07 0F 2E
Scott's article detailed all 54 dGraph Viruses. Every wire service and news service in the country picked up the story and reprinted it in their papers and magazines. Within 24 hours, everyone who owned or used a computer had some weapons with which available to him. If they chose to believe in the danger.
* * * * *
Wednesday, January 20The White House
"So what about this Mason character?" Secretary of State Quinton Chambers asked challengingly. The President's inner circle was again meeting to discuss the government's reaction to the impend- ing chaos that Mr. Homosoto posthumously promised. The pre-dawn hours were viewed as an ideal time to have upper level meetings without the front door scrutiny of the press.
Phil Musgrave pulled a folder from the stack in his lap and opened it. "Born 1953, he had an Archie Bunker for a father but he came out a brain - IQ of 170. Against Nam, who wasn't; he protested some, but not a leader. No real trouble with the law; couple of demonstration arrests. City College, fared all right, and then set up his own company, worked in the defense industry writing manuals until he hit it big and sold out. Divorced, no kids. Wife is kinda wacky. The news business is new to him, but he's getting noticed fast."
"Is he a risk?"
"The FBI hasn't completed their investigation," said Phil. "If he is a risk, it's buried deep. Surface wise, he's clean. Only one problem."
"What's that?"
"He's an independent thinker."
"How's he done so far?"
"So far so good."
"So we let him continue?"
"Yesterday he said he was willing to help, but I have a sneaky suspicion he'll do better on his own without our interference. Besides, he prints every damn thing he does."
"What about their identity?"
"No way. He will maintain source protection, and I don't think it matters right now. Maybe later."
"What about the FBI friend?"
"The FBI is aware of it, and views it favorably. Duncan's rela- tionship has been exclusively personal until recently. It seems to serve both sides well."
"So you're saying he's working for us and not knowing it?"
"He probably knows it, and probably, like most of the media, doesn't care. His job is to report the news. It just so happens that we read the same newspapers. Let's leave him alone."
The President held up his hand to signal an end to the debate between State policy and the White House Chief of Staff. "Unless anyone can give me a good goddammed reason to fix something that seems to be working," he said, "let Mason do his job and let us do ours." He looked around the Oval Office for comments or dissent. It was a minor point and nobody thought it significant enough to pursue. Yet. "Next?" The President commanded.
Refills of coffee were distributed and the pile of Danishes was shrinking as the men casually dined during their 6:00 A.M. meet- ing.
"OSO Industries appears, by all first impressions, to have noth- ing to do with the threats." Henry Kennedy was expected to know more than anyone else at this point. "Investigations are contin- uing, but we have no reason to suspect a smoking gun."
"One man did all of this?" asked the President skeptically.
"We have no doubt that he accomplished at least the dGraph vi- ruses with accomplices and a great deal of money." Henry knew his material. With the combined help of the NSA, CIA, FBI and international contacts, the National Security Advisor was privy to an incredible range of information. He was never told direct- ly that U.S. agents regularly penetrated target computers as part of any investigation, or that they listened in on computers and communications to gather information. But Henry Kennedy preferred it this way; not to officially know where he got his data. Professional deniability.
"We also have every reason to believe that he used technical talent outside of OSO," Kennedy continued. "Perhaps as many as thirty or forty people involved."
The inner circle whistled. "Thirty or forty? That's a conspira- cy," commented Quinton.
"I agree with Quinton. What I think we need to do here," said Phil Musgrave to the others in the room and the President, "is expand our previous definition of terrorism. Doesn't a threat to international stability and the economic well being of this country constitute terrorism?" He gazed into each of the listen- er's eyes then said, "In my mind it clearly does." He referred to the work at the Department of State which, since the Iraqi War, had clearly expanded the operational definition of terror- ism.
"There's more," Henry said soberly. "Four months ago the FBI was inundated with reports of blackmail. None materialized but still take up a great deal of manpower and resources. Classified defense technology is used to shut down the Stock Exchange and other major businesses. Two months ago an Irani foreign national was killed in New York. He was driving a vehicle which contained sophisticated computer monitoring equipment."
"Has anything developed on that front?" the President asked. "I remember reading about that. It was a tragedy."
"It was," agreed Phil Musgrave.
"We had the FBI, the CI division take apart what was left of the van and we began a cross trace," Henry pulled out yet another file from his stack. "It seems that during a two month period in 1988, a disproportionate number of identical Ford Econoline vans were paid for in cash. As far as the dealer is concerned, the customer disappeared. Unless they're using stolen plates, they- 're part of the DMV system. The New York van was registered to a non-existent address. Roadblocked."
"And don't forget the First State incident, INTERNET, the FAA radar systems," Quinton Chambers said to the President. He listed a long series of computer malfunctions over the prior 60 days. "It appears at this point that we have been experiencing a prelude, the foreplay if you will, of something worse. The Homosoto letter makes him as good a candidate as anyone right now."
Even Andrew Coletree felt in concert with the others on this point. "If what has happened to computers, the traffic systems, airplanes, to the IRS, the Stock Exchange, Fed Ex, and God knows what else is all from one man, Homosoto, then yes, it's a army, an attack."
"What if we declare war?" Secretary of State Quinton Chambers said, fully expecting immediate agreement with his idea.
"On who? The Computers?" jibed Defense Secretary Coletree. "The damned Computer Liberation Organization will be the next endan- gered minority."
"Declaring war is a joke, excuse me Mr. President," said Phil Musgrave. "It's a joke and the American people won't buy it. They're getting hit where it hurts them the most. In their pock- ets. We have major business shut downs, and they want an answer. A fix, not a bunch of hype. We've had the war on crime, the war on drugs, the war on poverty and they've all been disasters. Things are worse now than before. They've had it with bullshit and they're scared right now."
The President bowed and rotated his head to work out a kink. "The position of think," Musgrave would say. Then the refreshing snap in the President's neck would bring a smile of relief to the corners of Chief Executive's mouth.
"What if we did it and meant it?" asked the President with a devilish grin. No one responded. "What if we declared war, with the approval of Congress, and actually did something about it."
"A unique concept," quipped Musgrave. "Government accomplishing something." Penetrating glares from Coletree and Kennedy only furthered the President's amusement. He enjoyed the banter.
"No, let me run this by you, and see what you think," the Presi- dent thought out loud. "We are facing a crisis of epic propor- tions, we all agree on that. Potential economic chaos. Why don't we deal with it that way. Why don't we really go out and fix it?" Still no reactions. "What is wrong with you guys? Don't you get it? Mediocrity is pass . It can't be sold to the this country again. For the first time in almost two centuries, the American people may have to defend themselves, in their homes and businesses on their home land. If that's the case, then I think that leadership should come from the White House."
The President rose and leaned on the back of his chair. There was quiet muttering among his top aides. "Aren't you stretching the point a little, sir?" asked the Chambers, the silver haired statesman. "After all, it was just one man . . ."
"That's the point!" shouted the President. "That's the whole damned point." He strode around to the old white fireplace with a photo of George Washington above it. If permitted, this spot would be labeled 'Photo Opportunity' by the White House tours.
"Look what one man can do. I never claimed to know anything about computers, but what if this was a warning?"
"Don't get maudlin on us . . ."
"I am not getting anything except angry," the President said raising his voice. "I remember what they said about Bush. They said if he was Moses, he would have brought down the ten sugges- tions. That will not happen to me."
The inner circle stole questioning glances from each other.
"This country has not had a common cause since Kennedy pointed us at the moon. We had the chance in the '70's to build a national energy policy, and we screwed it up royally when oil prices were stable. So what do we do?" His rhetorical question was best left unanswered. "We now import more than 50% of our oil. That's so stupid . . .don't let me get started." There was an obvious sigh of relief from Chambers and Musgrave and the others. When the President got like this, real pissed off, he needed a sounding board, and it was generally one or more of them. Such was the price of admission to the inner circle.
The President abruptly shifted his manner from the political altruist still inside him to the management realist that had made him a popular leader. He spoke with determination.
"Gentlemen, exactly what is the current policy and game plan?" The President's gaze was not returned. "Henry? Andrew?" Mus- grave and Chambers and Secretary of the Treasury Martin Royce wished they could disappear into the wallpaper. They had seen it before, and they were seeing it again. Senior aides eaten alive by the President.
"Henry? What's the procedure?" The President's voice showed increasing irritation.
"Sir, CERT, the Computer Emergency Response Team was activated a few months ago to investigate Network Penetrations," Henry Kennedy said. "ECCO, another computer team is working with the FBI on related events. Until yesterday we didn't even know what we were up against, and we still barely understand it."
"That doesn't change the question, Henry. What are the channel contingencies? Do I have to spell it out?" The President mel- lowed some. "I was hoping to spare myself the embarrassment of bringing attention to the fact that the President of the United States is unaware of the protocol for going to war with a comput- er." The lilt in his voice cut the edge in the room, momentari- ly. "Now that that is out in the open, please enlighten us all." The jaws were preparing to close tightly.
Henry Kennedy glanced nervously over at Andrew Coletree who replied by rubbing the back of his neck. "Sir," Henry said, "basically there is no defined, coordinated, that is established procedures for something like this." The President's neck red- dened around the collar as Henry stuttered. "If you will permit me to explain . . ."
The President was furious. In over thirty years of professional politics, not even his closest aides had ever seen him so totally out of character. The placid Texan confidence he normally exud- ed, part well designed media image, part real, was completely shattered.
"Are you telling me that we spent almost $4 trillion dollars, four goddamn trillion dollars on defense, and we're not prepared to defend our computers? You don't have a game plan? What the hell have we been doing for the last 12 years?" The President bellowed as loudly as anyone could remember. No one in the room answered. The President glared right through each of his senior aides.
"Damage Assessment Potential?" The President said abruptly as he forced a fork full of scrambled eggs into his mouth.
"The Federal Reserve and most banking transactions come to a virtual standstill. Airlines grounded save for emergency opera- tions. Telephone communications running at 30% or less of capacity. No Federal payments for weeks. Do you want me to continue?"
"No, I get the picture."
The President wished to God he wouldn't be remembered as the President who allowed the United States of America to slip back- ward 50 years. He waited for the steam in his collar to subside before saying anything he might regret.
"Marv?" For the first time the President acknowledged the presence of Marvin Jacobs, Director of the National Security Agency. Jacobs had thus far been a silent observer. He respond- ed to the President.
"Yessir?"
"I will be signing a National Security Decision Directorate and a Presidential Order later today, authorizing the National Security Agency to lead the investigation of computer crimes, and related events that may have an effect on the national security." The President's words stunned Jacobs and Coletree and the others except for Musgrave.
"Sir?"
"Do you or do you not have the largest computers in the world?" Jacobs nodded in agreement. "And do you not listen in to every- thing going on in the world in the name of National Security?"
Jacobs winced and noticed that besides the President, others were interested in his answer. He meekly acknowledged the assumption by a slight tilt of his head.
"I recall, Marv," the President said, "that in 1990 you yourself asked for the National Computer Security Center to be disbanded and be folded into the main operations of the Agency. Bush issued a Presidential Order rescinding Reagan's NSDD-145. Do you recall?"
"Yes, of course I do," said Marvin defensively. "It made sense then, and given it's charter, it still makes sense. But you must understand that the Agency is only responsible for military security. NIST handles civilian."
"Do you think that the civilian agencies and the commercial computers face any less danger than the military computers?" The President quickly qualified his statement. "Based upon what we know now?"
"No, not at all." Jacobs felt himself being boxed into a corner."But we're not tooled up for . . ."
"You will receive all the help you need," the President said with assurance. "I guarantee it." His words dared anyone to defy his command.
"Yessir," Jacobs said humbly. "What about NIST?"
"Do you need them?"
"No question."
"Consider it done. I expect you all here at the same time tomor- row with preliminary game plans." He knew that would get their attention. Heads snapped up in disbelief.
"One day?" complained Andrew Coletree. "There's no way that we can begin to mobilize and organize the research . . ."
"That's the kind of talk I do not want to hear, gentlemen," thePresident said. Coletree turned red.
"Mr. President," said Chambers. "If we were going to war . . ."
"Sir," the President said standing straight, "we are already at war. You're just not acting like it. According to you, the vital interests of this country have been attacked. It is our job to defend the country. I call that war. If we are going to sell a Computer War to America, we better start acting like we take it seriously. Tomorrow, gentlemen. Pull out the stops."
* * * * *
1:15 P.M., New York City
Upon returning from lunch, Scott checked his E-Mail at the Times. Most of the messages he received were from co-workers or news associates in other cities. He also heard from Kirk on the paper's supposedly secure network. Neither he nor the technical network gurus ever figured out how he got in the system.
The network administrators installed extra safeguards after Scott tipped them that he had been receiving messages from outside the paper. They added what they called 'audit trails'. Audit trails are supposed to record and remember every activity on the net- work. The hope was that they could observe Kirk remotely enter- ing the computer and then identify the security breach. Despite their attempts, Kirk continued to enter the Times' computers at will, but without any apparent disruption of the system.
It took Scott some time to convince the network managers that Kirk posed no threat, but they felt that any breach was poten- tially a serious threat to journalistic privilege.
Reporters kept their notes on the computer. Sources, addresses, phone numbers, high level anonymous contacts and identities, all stored within a computer that is presumably protected and secure. In reality, the New York City Times computer, like most comput- ers. is as open as a sieve.
Scott could live with it. He merely didn't keep any notes on the computer. He stuck with the old tried and true method of hand written notes.
His E-Mail this time contained a surprise.
A pit suddenly developed in Scott's stomach. The last time he remembered having that feeling was when he watched Bernard Shaw broadcast the bombing of Baghdad. The sense of sudden helpless- ness, the foreboding of the unknown. Or perhaps the shock of metamorphosis when one's thoughts enter the realm of the unreal.
Then came the doubt.
"Ty," Scott asked after calling him at his office. "What hap- pened to Foster?" He spoke seriously.
"True to his word," Tyrone laughed with frustration, "he was out in an hour. He said he was coming back to your party . . ."
"Never showed up." Scott paused to think. "How did he get out so fast?"
"He called the right guy. Charges have been reduced to a couple of misdemeanors; local stuff."
"So, isn't he your guy?"
"We're off, right?" Tyrone though to double check.
"Completely. I just need to know for myself."
"Bullshit," Tyrone retorted. "But for argument's sake, I know he had something to do with it, and so do a lot of other people."
"So what's the problem?"
"A technicality called proof," sighed Tyrone. "We have enough on him for a circumstantial case. We know his every move since he left the NSA. How much he spent and on whom. We know he was with Homosoto, but that's all we know. And yes, he is a comput- er genius."
"And he goes free?"
"For now. We'll get him."
"Who pulled the strings?"
"The Prosecutor's office put up a brick wall. Told us we had to get better evidence. I though we were all on the same side." Tyrone's discouragement was evident, even across the phone wires.
"Still planning on making a move?"
"I'll talk to you later." The phone went dead on Scott's ears.He had clearly said a no-no on the phone.
* * * * *
Cambridge, Massachusetts
Lotus Development Corporation headquarters has been the stage for demonstrations by free-software advocates. Lotus' lawsuits against Mosaic Software, Paperback Software and Borland created a sub-culture backlash against the giant software company. Lotus sued its competitors on the basis of a look-and-feel copyright of the hit program 1-2-3. That is, Lotus sued to keep similar products from emulating their screens and key sequences.
Like Hewlett Packard, Apple and Microsoft who were also in the midst of legal battles regarding intellectual-property copy- rights, Lotus received a great deal of media attention. By and large their position was highly unpopular, and the dense univer- sity culture which represented free exchange of programs and information provided ample opportunity to demonstrate against the policies of Lotus.
Eileen Isselbacher had worked at Lotus as a Spreadsheet Customer Service Manager for almost two years. She was well respected and ran a tight ship. Her first concern, one that her management didn't necessarily always share, was to the customer. If someone shelled out $500 for a program, they were entitled to impeccable service and assistance. Despite her best efforts, though, Lotus had come to earn a reputation of arrogance and indifference to customer complaints. It was a constant public relations battle; for the salespeople, for customer service, and for the financial people who attempted to insure a good Wall Street image.
The service lines are shut down at 6 P.M. EST and then Eileen enters the Service Data Base. The SDB is a record of all service calls. The service reps logged the call, the serial #, the type of problem and the resolution. Eileen's last task of the day was to compile the data accumulated during the day and issue a daily summation report.
She commanded the data base to "Merge All Records". Her computer terminal, on the Service Department's Novell Pentium-server net- work began crunching.
12,346 Calls between 7:31 AM and 5:26 PM.
That was a normal number of calls.
Serial Numbers Verified. The Data Base had to double check that the serial number was a real one, issued to a legitimate owner.
712 Bad Disks
Her department sent out replacement disks to verified owners who had a damaged disk. A little higher than the average of 509, but not significant enough unless the trend continues.