"Does not apply," says Dr. Kirschner. "With a television, there isn't an issue of privacy. A computer is like an electronic diary, and that privacy must be respected at all costs."
"And," he adds, "that's England, not the U.S.. They don't have freedom of the press, either."
Kirschner vowed a highly visible fight if Congress " . . .dares to pass that vulgar law . . ."
* * * * *
Monday, February 15Scarsdale, New York
"ECCO reports are coming in."
"At this hour?" Scott said sleepily.
"You want or no?" Tyrone Duncan answered with irritation.
"Yeah, yeah, I want," Scott grumbled. "What time is it?"
"Four A.M. Why?"
"I won't make the morning . . ."
"I'm giving you six hours lead. Quit bitching."
"O.K., O.K., what is it?"
"Don't sound so grateful."
"Where the hell are you?" Scott asked sounding slightly more awake.
"At the office."
"At four?"
"You're pushing your luck . . ."
"I'm ready."
"It looks like your NEMO friends were right. There are bunches of viruses. You can use this. ECCO received reports of a quar- ter million computers going haywire yesterday. There's gotta be ten times that number that haven't been reported."
"Whose?"
"Everybody for Christ's sake. American Gen, Compton Industries,First Life, Banks, and, this is almost funny, the entire town ofFallsworth, Idaho."
"Excuse me?"
* * * * *
Thursday, February 25
TOWN DISAPPEARSBy Scott Mason
The town of Fallsworth, Idaho is facing a unique problem. It is out of business.
Fallsworth, Idaho, population 433, has a computer population of 611.
But no one in the entire incorporation of Fallsworth has ever bought or paid for a single piece of software or hardware.
Three years ago, the town counsel approved a plan to make this small potato farming community the most computerized township in the United States, and it seems that they succeeded. Apparently the city hall of Fallsworth was contacted by representatives of Apple Computer. Would they like to be part of an experiment?
Apple Computer provided every home and business in the Fallsworth area with a computer and the necessary equipment to tie all of the computers together into one town-wide network. The city was a pilot program for the Electronic City of the future. The residents of Fallsworth were trained to use the computers and Apple and associated companies provided the township beta copies of software to try out, play with and comment on.
Fallsworth, Idaho was truly the networked city.
Lily Williams and members of the other 172 households in Falls- worth typed out their grocery lists on their computer, matching them to known inventories and pricing from Malcolm Druckers' General Store. When the orders arrived at the Drucker computer, the goods just had to be loaded in the pick up truck. Druckers' business increased 124% after the network was installed.
Doctors Stephenson, Viola and Freemont, the three town doctors modem'ed prescriptions to Baker Pharmacy so the pills were ready by the time their patients arrived.
Mack's Messengers had cellular modems and portable computers installed in their delivery trucks. They were so efficient, they expanded their business into nearby Darbywell, Idaho, population, 5,010.
Today, Fallsworth, Idaho doesn't use its computers. They lie dormant. A town without life. They forgot how to live and work and play and function without their computers. Who are the slaves?
The viruses of Lotus, of dGraph. The viruses of Freedom struck, and no one in the entire town had registration cards. The soft- ware crisis has left Fallsworth and a hundred other small test sites for big software firms out in the digital void.
Apple Computer promised to look into the matter but said that customers who have paid for their products come first . . .
* * * * *
Friday, March 5FBI Building, Federal Square
Tyrone Duncan was as busy as he had ever been, attempting to coordinate the FBI's efforts in tracking down any of the increas- ing number of computer criminals. And there were a lot of them at the moment. The first Copy-Cat computer assaults were coming to light, making it all that much more difficult to isolate the Foster Plan activities from those other non-coordinated inci- dents.
Tyrone, as did his counterparts in regional FBI offices nation- wide, created teams of agents who concentrated on specific areas of Homosoto's assault as described by the Spook. Some special- ized in tracing missing electronic funds, some in working with the phone company through the NSA. More than any other goal, the FBI wanted desperately to locate as many of the invisible agents that the Spook, Miles Foster, had told Homosoto to use. Tyrone doubted they would catch anywhere near the 3000 or more he was told that were out there, but at this point any success was welcome.
FBI agents toiled and interviewed and researched sixteen and eighteen hours a day, seven days a week. There hadn't been such a blanket approval of overtime since the Kennedy assassination. The FBI followed up the leads generated by the computers at the NSA. Who and where were the likely associates of Homosoto and Foster?
His phone rang - the private line that bypasses his secretary- startling Tyrone from the deep thought in which he was immersed. On a Saturday. As the voice on the other end of the phone ut- tered its first sound, Tyrone knew that it was Bob Burnson. Apparently he was in his office today as well.
"Afternoon, Bob," Tyrone said vacantly.
"Gotcha at a bad time?" Burnson asked.
"No, no. Just going over something that may prove interesting."
"Go ahead, make my day," joked Burnson.
"I know you don't want to know . . ."
"Then don't tell me . . ."
"But Mason's hackers are coming through for us."
"Jeez, Ty," whined Bob. "Do you have to . . ."
"Do you know anybody else that is capable of moving freely in those circles? It's not exactly our specialty," reprimanded Tyrone.
"In theory it's great," Bob reluctantly agreed, "but there are so damn many exposures. They can mislead us, they're not profes- sionals, and worst of all, we don't even know who they are, to perform a background check."
"Bob, you go over to the other side . . . playing desk man on me?"
"Ty, I told you a while ago, I could only hang so far out before the branches started shaking."
"Then you don't know anything." Tyrone said in negotiation. Keep Bob officially uninformed and unofficially informed. "You don't know that NEMO has helped to identify four of the black- mailers and a handful of the Freedom Freaks. You don't know that we have gotten more reliable information from Mason's kids than from ECCO, CERT, NIST and NSA combined. They're up in the clouds with theory and conjecture and what-iffing themselves silly. NEMO is in the streets. A remote control informer if you like."
"What else don't I know?"
"You don't know that NEMO has been giving us security holes in some of our systems. You don't know that Mason's and other hackers have been working on the Freedom viruses."
"Some systems? Why not all?"
"They still want to keep a few trapdoors for themselves."
"See what I mean!" exclaimed Burnson. "They can't be trusted."
"They are not on our payroll. Besides, it's them or no one," Tyrone calmly said. "They really would like to keep the real-bad guys off of the playing field, as they put it."
"And keep the spoils for their own use."
"It's a trade-off I thought was worthwhile."
"I don't happen to agree, and neither does the Director's office."
"I thought you didn't know . . ."
"Word gets around. We have to cap this one, Ty. It's too hot.This is so far from policy I think we could be shot."
"You know nothing. Nothing."
But Burnson and the FBI and the White House all knew they wanted Foster. Tyrone instinctively knew as did Scott, that Miles Foster was the Spook. Other than meager unsubstantiated circum- stantial evidence, though, there was still no convincing legal connection between Miles Foster and the Spook. Not enough of one, anyway.
Miles Foster had done an extraordinary job of insulating himself and his identity from his army.
There had to be another way.
* * * * *
Monday, March 8New York City Times
Lawsuit Cites Virusby Scott Mason
Will stockholders of corporations soon require that all Corporate assets be appropriately protected? Including those contained in the computers? Many people see a strong possibility of a swell of Wall Street investor demands to secure the computers of pub- licly held companies. The SEC is planning on issuing a set of preliminary regulations for firms under its aegis.
Last week, a group of 10,000 Alytech, Inc. stockholders filed the first class action suit along this vein. They are suing the current board of directors for " . . .willful dereliction of fiduciary responsibility in the adequate security and protection of corporate information, data, communications and data process- ing and communications equipment." The suit continues to say that the company, under the Directors' leadership and guidance knew and understood the threat to their computers, yet did noth- ing to correct the situation.
Attorneys for the plaintiffs have said that they are in posses- sion of a number of internal Alytech documents and memos which spelled out security recommendations to their board of directors upon which no action was taken.
Alytech was one of the many companies hit particularly hard by the Computer War. The dGraph virus, the Lotus viruses and the Novell viruses were among those that infected over 34,000 of the company's computers around the world; bringing the company to a virtual halt for over two weeks. Immediately after getting their computers back up and running, they were struck by several Free- dom viruses which were designed to destroy the hard disks on the computers.
As of this date, Alytech still has over 10,000 computers sitting idly waiting for the much delayed shipments of hard disks re- quired to repair the machines.
A spokesman for Alytech, Inc. says that the lawsuit is frivolous and without merit.
A date of June 14 has been set for the courts to hear the first of many rounds of motions.
* * * * *
Sunday, March 21Paris, France
Spring in Paris is more glorious than any reviewer can adequately portray.
The clear air bristles with fresh anticipation like lovers on a cool afternoon. Bicycles, free from a winter of hiding in ga- rages, fill the streets and parks. All of Paris enjoys the first stroll of the year.
Coats and jackets are prematurely shed in favor of t-shirts and skimpy tank-tops and the cafes teem with alfresco activity. The lucky low-season American tourist experiences firsthand the French foreplay to summer.
Looking down to the streets from the 'deuziemme tage' of the Eiffel Tower, only a hundred feet up, the sheer number of stroll- ers, of pedestrian cruisers, of tourists and of the idly lazy occupies the whole of one's vista.
Martin Templer leaned heavily on the wrought iron railing of the restaurant level, soaking up the tranquility of the perfect Sunday afternoon. He gazed across the budding tree-lined Seine toward the Champs Elys e and the Arc de Triumph; from Notre Dame to the skyscrapered Ile de la Cit . He mentally noted the incon- gruity between the aura of peace that Paris radiated with its often violent history. He hoped nothing today would break that spell.
A sudden slap on the back aroused Templer from his sun warmed daydream. He turned his head in seeming boredom. "You'd make a lousy pickpocket."
"That's why I avoided a life of crime." Alexander Spiradon was immaculately dressed, down to the properly folded silk handker- chief in his suit jacket. "How are you today my friend? Did I interrupt your reverie?"
Templer swung his London Fog over his shoulder. His casual slacks and stylish light weight sweater contrasted severely with Alex's comfortable air of formality. "I don't get here often. Paris is a very special place," Templer mused, turning from his view of the city to face his old comrade.
"It is indeed," agreed Alex. "Then why do you look so melan- choly? Does Paris bring you memories of sadness?"
"I hope not," Templer said, eyes down.
"You didn't give me much notice," Alex said good naturedly. "I left the most beautiful woman in the world in a jacuzzi at St. Moritz."
"No, I'm sorry. I know I didn't, but it was urgent. Couldn't wait." A slight breeze caused Templer to shiver. He slowly put on his tan rain coat and looked right into Alex's eyes. "I'm going to ask you straight."
Alex confidently grinned. "Ask what?"
"Was Taki Homosoto a client of yours?" The biting words seemed to have little impact on Alex.
"My clients trust me to keep their identities confidential." The expression on Alex's face didn't change.
"The guy's dead. What the hell can it hurt?" Templer laughed."What's he gonna do? Sue you for breach of contract?"
Alex didn't say a word. He saw Templer laugh the confident laugh of a chess player one move from checkmate and he realized how un- comfortable a position this was for him. How do you behave when you're on the losing end of the stick? Alex was thinking like he cared what Templer knew or thought. In reality, though, he didn't care any more about what anyone thought of him. He had enough money, more than enough money, to lead a lavish lifestyle without worry. So what did it matter. As friends nothing would change between him and Martin. But professionally, that was a different matter.
"I'd love to tell you, but, it's a matter of ethics," Alex said happily. "You understand."
"It really doesn't matter," laughed Templer. "Let's walk. The wind's picking up." They unconsciously joined in the spontane- ous promenade of walkers who shuffle around the mid level of the Tower to share in the ambience that only Paris offers.
"You know, I'm officially retired," Alex said breathing in deep- ly.
"I'm not surprised. Must have been a very profitable endeavor."
"I saved a little and made prudent investments," Alex lied andTempler knew it. No need to push the point.
"How well did Sir George do? He wouldn't tell us."
Alex stopped in his tracks and glared at Martin with a blank emotionless expression for several seconds until his deep set brown eyes began to twinkle. A knowing smile and nod of recog- nition of accomplishment followed, telling Martin he had hit a home run. "You're good. Very good." They both began walking again, as if on cue. "For future edification, how did you find him?"
"Them. Sir George was the most helpful, though."
"I remember him. Real character, kind of helpless but with the gift of gab." Alex seemed unconcerned that any of his network had been discovered. "He talked?"
"Second rate criminal. Definitely deportable."
"And you made him an offer he couldn't refuse."
"Something like that," Templer said coyly. "Let's just say he prefers the vineyards of California to the prisons in England."
Alex nodded in understanding. "How'd you find him?"
"Telephone records."
"That's impossible," Alex said, shrugging off Martin's answer.
"Never underestimate the power of silicon," Martin said crypti- cally.
"Computers? No way," Alex said defiantly. "Every year there are almost 40 billion calls made within the United States alone. There's no way to trace that many calls."
"Who needs to trace?" Templer enjoyed the joust. Thus far. "The phone company is kind enough to keep records of every call made. Both local and long distance. They're all rather com- plete. From what number, to what number, if it's forwarded, to what number and at what time and for how long. They also tell us if the calls were voice, fax, or other types of communications. It even identifies telephone connections that use encryption. Believe me, those are flagged right off."
"You monitor every conversation? I thought it was just the overseas calls. That's incredible. Incredibly illegal."
"But necessary. The threat of terrorism inside the United States has reached unacceptable levels, and we had the capability. It was just a matter of flipping the switch."
"Since when can you do that?" Alex asked, stunned that he had overlooked, or underestimated a piece of the equation.
"Since the phone company computers were connected to the Fort. And, I guarantee you, it's not something they want advertised," Martin said in a low voice. "Did you fuck up?" They had circled the Tower twice and stopped back where they started, overlooking the Seine.
Alex's professional composure returned as they leaned over theTower's railing.
"I guess I wasn't as right as I usually am," he snickered.Templer followed suit. "How many did you get?"
"How many are there?"
"That would be telling," Alex said coyly.
"I assume, then, that you would be averse to helping us out of our current dilemma." Being friends with potential adversaries made this part of the job all the more difficult.
"Well," Alex said turning his head toward Martin. "I guess I could be talked into one more job, just one, if the price was right."
Templer shook his head. "That's not the right answer."
Alex was taken off guard by the sullenness in Martin's voice."Right answer? There are no right and wrongs in our business.Only shades of gray. You know that. We ride a fence, and thewinds blow back and forth. It's not personal."
Martin straightened up and put both hands deep into the pockets of his London Fog. "Among the professionals, yes. But Sir George and his cronies, and you by default, broke the rules. Civilians are off limits. We were hoping that you would want to help."
Alex ignored the second request. "I won't do it again. I prom- ise," he said haughtily.
"Is there anything I can say that will make you reconsider?Anything at all?" Martin implored.
"No," Alex said. "Unless we can discuss an equitable arrange- ment."
Martin took his hands out of his pockets and said, "I don't think that will work. I'm sorry."
"Sorry?"
Martin quickly moved his right hand up to Alex's neck and touched it briefly. Alex reached up and slapped his neck as terror overtook his face. He grabbed Martin's arm and twisted it with his free hand to expose a small needle tipped dart projecting from a ring on one finger. Templer wrested his arm free from Alex's weakening clutch and tore off the ring, tossing it away from the Tower.
Alex weakened further as he leaned both hands on the railing to steady himself. His mouth gaped wide, intense fear and utter disbelief competing for control of his facial muscles. Martin ignored his collapsing adversary and walked deliberately to the open elevator which provided escape down to street level. Before the doors had closed, Templer saw a crowd converge over the crumpled body of Alexander Spiradon.
Martin Templer crossed the Seine and performed evasive maneuvers to make sure he was not being followed. The cleansing process took about three hours. He flagged down a taxi and the most uncooperative driver refused to acknowledge he understood that the destination was the American Embassy on Gabriel. Only when Templer flashed a 100 Franc note did the driver's English im- prove.
Templer showed his CIA credentials to the Marine Sergeant at the security desk, and told him he needed access to a secure communi- cations channel to Washington.
After his identity was verified, Templer was permitted to send his message. It was electronically addressed to his superiors at CIA headquarters in Langley, Virginia.
****************************************************************
Monday, March 22National Security Agency
He had two separate offices, each with a unique character. One ultra modern and sleek, the other befitting a country gentleman. The two were connected by a large anteroom that also provided immediate access and departure by a private elevator and escape stairs. He could hold two meetings at once as was occasionally required in his position as DIRNSA, Director, National Security Agency. Each office had its own secretary and private entrance, selected for use depending upon whom was expected.
The meeting in the nouveau office was winding down to a close and the conversation had been reduced to friendly banter. Marvin Jacobs had brought in three of his senior advisors who were coordinating the massive analytical computing power of the NSA with the extraordinary volume of raw data that all of the 5ESS switches downloaded daily.
Since they had been assigned to assist the FBI, the NSA had been hunting down the locations of the potential conspirators with the assistance of the seven Baby Bells and Bell Laboratories in Princeton, New Jersey. The gargantuan task was delicately bal- ancing a fine line between chaos and stagnancy; legality and amorality.
As they spoke, Jacobs heard a tone emit from his computer and he noticed that Office-2 had a Priority Visitor.
"Gentlemen," Marvin Jacobs said as he stood. "It seems that my presence is required for a small matter. Would you mind enter- taining yourselves for a few minutes?" His solicitous nature and political clout demanded that his visitors agree without hesita- tion.
He walked over to a door by the floor to ceiling bookshelf and let himself in, through the gracious ante-room by the commode and into his heavy wood and leather office. He immediately saw the reason for the urgency.
"Miles, Miles Foster, my boy! How are you?" Marvin Jacobs walked straight to Miles, vigorously shook his hand and gave him a big friendly bear hug.
Miles smiled from ear to ear. "It's been cold out there. Glad to be home." He looked around the room and nodded appreciative- ly. "You've been decorating again."
"Twice. You haven't been in this office for, what is it, five years?" Jacobs held Miles by the shoulders. "My God it's good to see you. You don't look any the worse for wear."
"I had a great boss, treated me real nice," Miles said.
"Come here, sit down," Marvin said ushering Miles over to a thickly padded couch. "If you don't already know it, this coun- try owes you a debt of thanks."
"I know," Miles said, even though he had been paid over three million dollars by Homosoto.
"A drink, son?" At fifty-five, the red faced paunch bellied Jacobs looked old enough to be Miles' father, even though they were only fifteen years apart.
"Glenfiddich on the rocks." Miles felt comfortable. Totally comfortable and in control of the situation.
"Done." DIRNSA Jacobs pressed a button which caused a hidden bar to be exposed from a mirror paneled wall. The James Bondish tricks amused Miles. "Excuse me," he said to Miles. "Let me get rid of my other appointments." Jacobs handed Miles the drink and leaned over his desk speaking into telephone. "Uh, Miss Gree- ley, cancel my dates for the rest of the day, would you please?"
"Of course, sir." The thin female voice came across the speaker phone clearly.
"And my regrets to the gentlemen in One."
"Yessir." The intercom audibly clicked off.
"So," Marvin asked, "how does it feel to be both the goat and the hero?"
"Hey, I fixed it, just like we planned, didn't I?" Miles said arrogantly, but his deep dimples said he was joking. "I remember everything you taught me," he bragged. "Lesson One: If you really want to fix something, first you gotta fuck it up so bad everyone takes notice. Well, how'd I do?" Miles still grinned, his dimples radiating a star pattern across his cheeks. Jacobs approved whole heartedly.
"You were a natural. From day one."
"Homosoto thought that fuck-it to fix-it was entirely too weird at first, so I quit calling it that." Miles fondly remembered those early conversations. "As you said, it takes a disaster to motivate Americans, and we gave them one."
"I'm glad you see it that way," Marvin said obligingly. "It occurred to me that you might have gotten soft on me."
"Not a chance." Miles countered. "How many men get to lead armies, first of all. And I may be the first, ever, to lead an invasion of my own country with my government's approval. This was a sanctioned global video game. I should thank you for the opportunity."
"That's a hell of a way to look at it, my boy. You show a lot of courage." Marvin drank to Miles' health. "It takes men of courage to run a country, and that's what we do; run the country." Miles had heard many of Marvin's considerable and conservative speeches before, but this one was new. After over five years, that was to be expected.
"It doesn't make a damn bit of difference who the President is. The Government stays the same regardless of who's elected every 4 years." Marvin continued as Miles listened reverently.
"The American public thinks that politicians run the country; they think that they vote for the people who make the policies, who set the tone of the government, but they are so wrong. So wrong." Marvin shook his head side to side. "And it's probably just as well that they never find out for sure." He held Miles' attention. Marv walked around the room drink in hand, gesturing with his hands and arms.
"The hundreds of thousands of Government employees, the ones that are here year after year after year, we are the ones who make policy. It's the mid-grade manager, the staff writer, the polit- ical analysts who create the images, the pictures that the White House and Capital Hill see.
"This town, the United States is run by lifers; people who have dedicated their lives to the American way of life. The military controls more than any American wants to know. State Department, Justice, HUD; each is its own monolithic bureaucracy that does not change direction overnight because of some election in Bum- fuck, Iowa. It takes four years to find your way through the corridors, and by then, odds are you'll be packing back to Maine, or Georgia or California or wherever you came from." Marvin Jacob's vitriolic oration was grinding on Miles, but he had to listen to his boss.
"So when this country gets into trouble, someone has to do some- thing about it. God knows the politicians won't. This country was in real trouble and someone had to fix it. In this case it was me. It's been a decade since the first warnings about how vulnerable our computers, our economy, shit, our National Securi- ty were. The reports came out, and Congress decided to ignore them. Sure, they built up the greatest armaments in the history of civilization, sold the future for a few trillion, but they ne- glected to protect their investment." Jacobs angrily poured himself another drink.
"I couldn't let that happen, so I decided that I needed to expose the weaknesses in our systems before somebody else did." Marvin spoke proudly. "And what better way than to fuck it up beyond all recognition. FUBAR. At least this way we were in charge, and we were able to pick the damage. Thanks to you. Lessons tend to be painful, and I guess we're paying for some of our past sins." He drank thirstily.
"Did those sins mean that I would have to be arrested by the FBI? I couldn't say a thing; not the truth. They'd never have be- lieved me." Miles shuddered at the thought. "For a moment, I thought you might leave me to rot in jail."
"Hey," Marvin said happily. "Didn't our people get you out, just like I promised? Less than an hour." He sounded proud of his efforts. "Besides, most of them were bullshit charges. Not worth the effort to prosecute."
"I never underestimate the power of the acronym," Miles said about the NSA, CIA and assorted lettered agencies. "There was a lot of not so quiet whispering when it was released that the charges were dropped by the Federal Prosecutor. Think that was smart, so soon? Maybe we should have waited a couple of months."
Jacobs looked up sharply at Miles' criticism of his actions but spoke with understanding. "We needed to get the cameras off of you and onto the real problem; it was the right thing to do. Your part is over. You started the war. Now it's up to me to stop it. It could not have gone any smoother. Yes," he re- flected. "It's time for us to take over. You have performed magnificently. We couldn't ask for any more."
Miles sipped at his drink accepting the reasoning and asked,"I've wondered about a few things, since the beginning."
"Now's as good a time as any," Marv said edging himself behind his desk. "I'd imagine you have a lot of holes to fill in."
"How did you get Homosoto to cooperate? He seemed to fall right into place."
"It was almost too easy," Jacobs commented casually. "We had a number of candidates. You'd be surprised how many people with money and power hold grudges against Uncle Sam," he snickered. "It's hard to believe, but true."
"Meaning, if it wasn't him, it would have been someone else?"
"Exactly. There's no shortage of help in the revenge business. There are still many hibakusha, survivors of Hiroshima and Naga- saki, who still want revenge on us for ending the war and saving so may lives. Ironic, isn't it? That someone like Homosoto is twisted enough to help us, just to fuel his own hatred," Marvin Jacobs asked rhetorically.
"But he didn't know he was helping, did he?" Miles asked.
"Of course not. Then he would have been running the show, and this was my production. No, it worked out just fine."
Jacobs paused for more liquor and continued. "Then we have a few European industrialists, ex-Nazis who are available . . .the KGB, GRU, Colombian cartel members. The list of assets is long. Where's there's money, there's help, and most of them prefer the Yankee dollar to any other form of payment. They forget that by hurting us they also hurt the world's largest economy, as well as everybody else's and then the fiscal dominoes start falling uncontrollably."
"You mean you bought him?" Miles asked.
"Oh, no! You can't buy a billionaire, but you can influence his actions, if he thinks that it's his idea. It just so happens that he was the first one to bite. Health problems and all."
"What problems?"
"In all likelihood it's from the radiation, the Bomb; his doctors gave him a couple of years to live. Inoperable form of leukemia."
"I didn't know . . ."
"No one did. He insisted on complete secrecy. He had not picked a successor to run OSO, and in some ways he denied the reality."
"Excuse my tired old brain, but you're talking Spook-Speak. How did you know . . .?"
"Old habits . . ." Marvin agreed. "As you well know, from your employ here, we have assets in every major company in the world. Especially those companies that buy and sell elected officials in Washington. OSO and Homosoto are quite guilty of bribing their way into billions of dollars of contracts. Our assets, you see, can work in two directions. They let us know what's going on from the inside and give us a leg up on the G2. Then, we can plant real or false information when needed. The Cold Economic War."
"So you told Homosoto what to do?" Miles followed closely.
"Not in so many words." Marvin wasn't telling all, and Miles knew it. "We knew that through our assets we gave Homosoto and several others the idea that U.S. computers were extremely frag- ile. Back in 1983 the DoD and CIA prepared classified reports saying that computer terrorism was going to be the international crime of choice in the last decade of the century. Then the NRC, NSC and DIA issued follow-up reports that agreed with the origi- nal findings. We saw to it that enough detail reached Tokyo to show just how weak we were."
Jacobs continued to tell Miles how the NSA effected the unwitting recruitment of Homosoto. "That, a well timed resignation on your part, and advertising your dissatisfaction with the government made you the ideal person to launch the attack." Marvin smiled widely holding his drink in the air, toasting Miles.
Miles responded by raising his glass. "And then a suicide, how perfect." Jacobs did not return the salute, and Miles felt sudden iciness. "Right? Homosoto's suicide." Jacobs still said nothing. "Marv? It was a suicide, wasn't it?"
"Miss Perkins was of great help, too," Marvin said ignoring Miles questions.
"Perky? What's she got to do with this?" Miles demanded.
"Oh? You really don't know?" Marvin was genuinely shocked. "I guess she was better than we thought. I thought you knew." He looked down to avoid Miles's eyes. "Didn't you think it odd . . .?"
"That she introduced me to Homosoto?" Miles asked acrimoniously.
"She didn't."
"Of course she did," Miles contradicted.
"We have a tape of the conversation," Marv disagreed. "All she did was ask you if you would work for a foreigner and under what circumstances. Perkins' job was to prep you for Homosoto or whoever else we expected to contact you. An admirable job, huh Miles?" Marvin Jacobs seemed proud of her accomplishments, and given the stunned gaping expression on Miles' face, he beamed even more. Miles didn't say a word, but his glazed eyes said loud and clear that he felt defiled.
"I'm sorry Miles," Marvin said compassionately. "I really as- sumed you knew that she was a toy. You certainly treated her that way." No reaction. "If it helps any, she was on Homosoto's payroll. She was a double."
Miles jerked his head back and then let out a long laugh. "Well, fuck me dead. Goddamn, she was good! Had me going. Not a fuck- ing clue." Miles stood from his chair and laughed and smiled at Marvin. "What a deal. I get blow jobs courtesy of the American taxpayer and you get paid to watch."
"Miles, we know how you felt for her . . ."
"Bullshit," Miles said quickly. "That's fucking bullshit." He pounded on the desk.
"She's already on another assignment," Marvin said calmly.
Miles couldn't completely hide the dejection, the feeling of loss, no matter how loudly he denied it. "Fuck her!" Miles exclaimed. He walked over to the high tech bar and made himself another strong drink. Perfect drink to get dumped by. "Another?" he asked Marvin who handed Miles his glass for a refill.
"As I was saying," Marvin said, "this country owes you a thanks, beyond any medals or awards, and unfortunately, there is no way we can publicly express our appreciation." Marvin sat down with his drink and addressed Miles.
"Hey," Miles said holding his hands in front of him. "I knew that going into the deal. I did my job, for my country, and maybe I lose some face, but I didn't do this for fame. Retiring in style, maybe the Alps is a nice consolation prize." The pain, so evident seconds ago about Stephanie, was gone. Miles gloated in his achievement.
A low warble came from the phone on Marvin's desk. He read a message that appeared on the small message screen attached to the phone and struck a few keys in response. At that moment, the double doors from the Office-2 reception opened and in came Tyrone Duncan and two other FBI agents. Miles turned to see who was interrupting their meeting. It was the same man who had arrested him a few weeks before.
Miles gulped deeply and felt his heart skip a beat. 'What the hell is going on', he thought. He quickly glanced at Jacobs. His pulse and respiration increased to the point of skin sweat and near hyper-ventilation.
Tyrone spoke to the Director. "Mr. Jacobs, we are here to see Mr. Foster." Jacobs gestured to Miles in the deep chair across from the marble desk.
Miles' mind raced. What was Marv doing? And Duncan again?
"Mr. Foster," Tyrone Duncan said. Miles looked up. "You are under arrest for violation of the espionage and sedition laws of the United States of America. In addition, you are charged with violating the Official Secrets Act and . . ." Tyrone read off 94 federal crimes including racketeering and 61 assorted counts of conspiracy.
As Tyrone read the extended list of charges, Miles shook to his core, turned to Marvin in abject terror. His face cried out, 'please, help me.' Jacobs watched with indifference as Tyrone continued with the new charges.
"You have the right to remain silent . . ." Tyrone read Miles his Miranda rights as he lifted him from the chair to put on the cuffs.
"Marv!" Miles shouted in panic. "This is a joke, and it's not funny . . .Marv . . .Jesus Fucking Christ!" Miles struggled like an animal. He thought he was free. "I'm the fucking fish food. Aren't I? Marv," he shouted even louder. "Aren't I?"
"It seems to me that you've dug your own grave, son. I can't tell you how disappointed I am in your actions." Jacobs played the role perfectly.
"You fucking liar! The President doesn't even know about what I did for you? Does he?" Miles was screaming as Tyrone and another agent restrained him by the arms. "Why not? You told me that this project had approval from the highest level."
"Are you mad?" Marvin sounded like a caring parent admonishing a misbehaving lad who knew no better. "Do you think that he would have approved of such a plan? Ruin his own country? Is that why you went to Homosoto? Because we said you were crazy?"
"You told me he approved it!" Miles screamed at Marvin. "You lied! About that, about Stephanie, what else have you lied to me about?"
Jacobs sat silently as Tyrone turned the handcuffed Miles toward the door.
"Why don't you just admit it? I'm the fucking fall guy for your scheme, aren't I?" Miles shouted. "Admit it goddamnit, admit it!"
Jacobs looked down at his desk and shook his head from side to side as if he were terribly disappointed.
"I'll get you, I will get you for this," Miles shrieked. "I trusted you, like a father and then you fuck me. Fucked me like every other dumb shit that works here." His vicousness intensi- fied. "Suck my dick!" he shouted with finality.
Tyrone tugged at Miles to keep him from the Director's desk. "Is there anything else Director Jacobs?"
"Yes, Agent Duncan, here." Jacobs opened a drawer and pulled out a large envelope, marked with Miles' name. Miles stared at it, eyes bulging with fear. Tyrone looked questioningly at Marvin.
"I believe you will find enough in there to put Mr. Foster in Tokyo with Mr. Homosoto at the time he died." Tyrone took the package. "I think the Tokyo Police would be most interested in making a possible case for murder."
Miles screamed, "scum bucket! You're fucking nuts." His vicious verbal assaults were aimed directly at Marvin who ignored them. "You know I had nothing to do . . .goddamn you! I spend five years of my life helping my country and you . . ."
"I think very few would agree that what you've done can be con- sidered helpful."
"I will get even! Even, do you hear!" Miles' voice was getting hoarse from the outrageous tirade.
DIRNSA Marvin Jacobs raised his right hand to Tyrone indicating that Miles was dismissed. Miles continued bellowing at Marvin and Tyrone and the two other agents tried to keep him in tow. When they had left, and the door closed behind them, Jacobs pushed a button on his phone and spoke casually.
"Miss Greeley? Could you please get me a 2:00 P.M. tee off time?"
****************************************************************
Epilogue
The Year After
The newspaper headlines during the first year of the attack revealed as much about the effects of the attacks on American society, its politics and economy as could any biased editorial. They ironically and to the dismay of many of those in the govern- ment, echoed the pulse of the country, regardless of the politi- cal leaning of the Op-Ed pages.
Foster Indicted By Federal Grand JuryFaces 1800 Years If ConvictedWashington Post
Economy Loses $300 Billion in First 6 Months $1 Trillion Loss Possible Tampa Tribune
Senator Urges Sanctions Against JapaneseWashington Post
NSA Admits Its Own Computers SickNew York City Times
NASA Launch Stopped By Faulty ComputersOrlando Sentinal
McMillan Indicted - Skips CountryEmployee's Testimony CrucialNew York Post
Credit Card Usage Down 84%Retailers In SlumpChicago Sun-Times
OSO Denied Access to Government ContractsInvestigation Expected to Take YearsLos Angeles Times
Most Companies Go UnprotectedDo Nothing In Spite of WarningsUSA Today
Commercial Tempest Program Kicks OffSafe Computers Begin ShippingHouston Mirror
Secret Service Stops FreedomBBS Software Company Built VirusesTampa Tribune
New York Welfare Recipients SufferNo Payments For 3 Months: 3rd Night of RiotsVillage Voice
Allied Corporation Loses 10,000 ComputersViruses Smell of HomosotoDallas Herald
ACLU Sues WashingtonClass Action Privacy Suit First of a KindTime Magazine
3rd. Quarter Leading Indicators Dismal Deep Recession Predicted If 4th. Qtr. Is Worse Wall Street Journal
Supreme Court Rules on Privacy 4th Amendment Protects E-Mail San Diego Union
Waves of VCR Failures Plague ManufacturersOSO Integrated Circuits BlamedSan Jose Register
Mail Order Ouch!Thousands of Dead Computers Kill SalesKansas City Address
Chicago Traffic SNAFUNew York Tie Up RememberedChicago Sun Times
Homosoto Worked For ExtraterrestrialsFull Scale Alien Invasion ImminentNational Enquirer
* * * * *
Power to the People by Scott Mason
The last few months have taught me, and this country, a great deal about the technology that has been allowed to control our lives. Computers, mainframes, mini computers, or millions of personal computers - they do in fact control and monitor our every activity, for better or for worse. A marriage of conven- ience?
Now, though, it appears to be for worse.
I am reminded of the readings of Edgar Cayce and the stories that surround the myth of Atlantis. According to Cayce and legend, Atlantis was an ancient ante-deluvian civilization that developed a fabulous technology which achieved air flight, levitation, advanced medical techniques and harnessed the sun's energy.
However, the power to control the technology which had exclusive- ly been controlled by the high priests of Atlantis was lost and access to the technology was handed to the many peoples of that ancient culture. Through a series of unintentional yet reckless events, the Atlanteans lost control of the technology, and de- spite the efforts of the Priests, their cities and cultures were destroyed, eventually causing Atlantis to sink to the bottom of the depths of the Atlantic Ocean.
Believing in the myth of Atlantis is not necessary to understand that the distribution of incredible computing power to 'everyman' augers a similar fate to our computerized society. We witnessed our traffic systems come a halt, bringing grid lock to small rural communities. Our banks had to reconstruct millions upon millions of transactions in the best possible attempt at recon- ciliation. The defensive readiness of our military was in ques- tion for some time before the Pentagon was satisfied that they had cleansed their computers.
The questions that arise are clearly ones to which there are no satisfying responses. Should 'everyman' have unrestrained access to tools that can obviously be used for offensive and threatening purposes? Is there a level of responsibility associated with computer usage? If so, how is it gauged? Should the businessman be subject to additional regulations to insure security and privacy? Are additional laws needed to protect the privacy of the average citizen? What guarantees do people have that infor- mation about them is only used for its authorized purpose?
Should 'everyman' have the ability to pry into anyone's personal life, stored on hundreds of computers?
One prominent group calling themselves FYI, Freeflow of Your Information, represented by the ACLU, represents one distinct viewpoint that we are likely to hear much of in the coming months. They maintain that no matter what, if any, restrictive mandates are placed on computer users, both are an invasion of privacy and violation of free speech have occurred. "You can't regulate a pencil," has become their informal motto emblazoned across t-shirts on campuses everywhere.
While neither group has taken any overt legal action, FYI is formidably equipped to launch a prolonged court battle. Accord- ing to spokesmen for FYI, "the courts are going to have to decide whether electronic free speech is covered by the First Amendment of the Constitution. If they find that it is not, there will be a popular uprising that will shake the foundation of this coun- try. A constitutional crisis of the first order."
With threats of that sort, it is no wonder that most advocates of protective and security measures for computers are careful to avoid a direct confrontation with the FYI.
* * * * *
Foster Treason Trials BeginJury Selection to Take 3 MonthsAssociated Press
Unemployment Soars to 9.2%Worst Increase Since 1930Wall Street Journal
SONY's ThreatSoon Own New YorkNew York Post
Homosoto Hackers Prove ElusiveFBI says, "I doubt we'll catch many of them."ISPN
Hard Disk Manufacturers Claim 1 Year BacklogExtraordinary Demand To Replace Dead DisksSan Jose Citizen Register
Security Companies Reap RewardsFixing Problems Can Be ProfitableEntrepreneur
Auto Sales Down 34%Automotive Week
92% Distrust ComputersNeilson Ratings Service
Compaq Introduces 'Tamper Free' ComputersInfo World
IBM Announces 'Trusted' ComputersPC Week
Dow Jones Slides 1120 PointsWall Street Journal
Senator Nancy Investigates Gov't Security ApathyWashington Times
Hollywood Freeway HaltsComputer Causes 14 Hour Traffic JamLos Angeles Times
* * * * *
A Day In The Life: Without Computers by Scott Mason.
As bad as a reformed smoker, but without the well earned battle scars, I have been, upon occasion, known to lightly ridicule those who profess the necessity of computers to enjoy modern life. I have been known as well to spout statistics; statistics that show the average homemaker today spends more time homemaking than her ancestor 100 or 200 years ago. I have questioned the logic of laziness that causes us to pull out a calculator rather than figure 10% of any given number.
I have been proven wrong.
Last Saturday I really noticed the effects of the Foster Plan more than any time since it began. I must confess that even though I have written about hackers and computer crime, it is axiomatically true that you don't notice it till it's gone. Allow me to make my point.
Have you recently tried to send a fax? The digital phone lines have been scrupulously pruned, and therefore busy most of the time.
The check out lines at the supermarket have cob webs growing over the bar code price scanner. The system that I used when I was a kid, as a delivery boy for Murray and Mary Meyers Meat Market, seems to be back in vogue; enter the cost of the item in the cash register and check for mistakes when the receipt is produced.
I haven't found one store in my neighborhood that still takes credit cards. Have you noticed the near disdain you receive when you try to pay with a credit card? Its real and perceived value has been flushed right down the toilet.
Not that they don't trust my well known face and name, but my credit cards are as suspect as are everybody's. Even check cashing is scarce. Seems like the best currency is that old time stand-by, cash. If you can make it to the bank. The ATM at my corner has been rented out to a flower peddler.
All of this is happening in reasonably affluent WestchesterCounty. And in impoverished East Los Angeles and in Detroit andMiami and Boston and Atlanta and Dallas as well as a thousandOshkosh's. America is painfully learning what life is likewithout automation.
* * * * *
OSO Puts Up Foster Defense CostsEffort At Saving FaceMiami Herald
Hackers Hacked OffAccuse Government of ComplicityAtlanta Constitution
Microwaves Go HaywireTimers Tick Too LongNewsday
1 Million School Computers Sit Idle Software Companies Slow to Respond Newsweek
Federal Computer Tax Bill Up For VoteJohn and Jane Doe Scream 'No'!San Diego Union
Cable Shopping Network Off Air 6 MonthsClearwater Sun
Bankruptcies Soar 600%Money Magazine
Banking At Home Programs On HoldUnreliable Communications BlamedComputers In Banking
Slow Vacation Travel Closes ResortsBut Disneyland Still Happiest Place on EarthSan Diego Tribune
* * * * *
Hacker HeroesBy Scott Mason
I have occasionally wreaked verbal havoc upon the hacker communi- ty as a whole, lumping together the good and the bad. The per- formance of hackers in recent months has contributed as much to the defense of the computers of this country as has the govern- ment itself.
An estimated one million computer users categorize themselves or are categorized as hackers. After the Homosoto bomb was dropped on America, a spontaneous underground ad hoc hacker effort began to help protect the very systems that many of them has been violating only the day before. The thousands of bulletin boards that normally display new methods of attacking computers, invad- ing government networks, stealing telephone service, phreaking computers and causing electronic disruptions, are now competing for recognition.
Newspapers interested in providing the most up to date informa- tion on fighting Homosoto's estimated 8000 viruses, and methods of making existing computers more secure have been using hacker BBS's as sources.
* * * * *
Foster Defense Coming to An EndFoster won't take standNew York City Times
AIDS Patients Sue CDC For Releasing NamesActors, Politicians and Leaders on ListsTime Magazine
FBI Arrests 15 FosteritesLargest Single Net YetMiami Herald
Congress Passes Strongest Computer Bill YetWashington Post
American Express Declares BankruptcyUnited Press International
No New Passports For Travelers 3 Month Department Hiatus Till System Repaired Boston Globe
138 Foreign Nationals Deported Homosoto Complicity Cited San Francisco Chronicle
National Identification Cards DebatedGeorge Washington Law Review
* * * * *
Ex Foster Girl Friend Key Prosecution Witness by Scott Mason
A long time girl friend of Homosoto associate Miles Foster testi- fied against her former lover in the Federal Prosecutor's treason case against him today. Stephanie Perkins, an admitted high class call girl, testified that she had been hired to provide services to Mr. Foster on an 'as-needed' basis.
Over a period of four years, Ms. Perkins says she was paid over $1 Million by a '. . .man named Alex . . .' and that she was paid in cash at a drop in Chevy Chase, Maryland.
She stated that her arranged ralationship with Mr. Foster 'was not entirely unpleasant,' but she would have picked someone 'less egotistical and less consumed with himself.'
"I was supposed to report his activities to Alex, and I saw a lot of the conversations on the computer."
"Did Foster work for Homosoto?""Yes.""What did he do?""Built viruses, tried to hurt computers.""Did you get paid to have sex with Mr. Foster?""Yes.""How many times?""A few hundred, I guess.""So you liked him?""He was all right, I guess. He thought I liked him.""Why is that?""It was my job to make him think so.""Why?""So I could watch him.""What do you do for a living now?""I'm retired."
* * * * *
Prosecution Witnesses Nail FosterDefense Listens to Plea Bargain OfferNewsday
50% Of Americans Blame Japan - Want RevengeRocky Mountain News
La Rouche Calls For War On JapanExtremist Views Speak LoudLos Angeles Time
12% GNP Reduction Estimated Rich and Poor Both Suffer USA Today
Soviets Ask For HelpWant To Avoid Similar FateLondon Telegraph
International Monetary Fund Ponders Next MoveChristian Science Monitor
* * * * *
Security: The New Marketing Toolby Scott Mason
American business always seems to turn a problem into a profit, and the current computer confidence crisis is no different.
In spontaneous cases of simultaneous marketing genius, banks are attempting to garner new customers as well as retain their exist- ing customers. As many banks continue to have unending difficul- ties in protecting their computers, the Madison Avenue set has found a theme that may set the tone of banking for years to come.
Bank With Us: Your Money Is Safer.Third Federal Savings and Loan
Your Money Is Protected - Completely,Mid South Alliance Bank
Banks have taken to advertising the sanctity of their vaults and the protective measures many organizations have hastily installed since the Foster Plan was made public. In an attempt to win customers, banks have installed extra security measures to insure that the electronic repositories that store billions of dollars are adequately protected; something that banks and the ABA openly admit has been overlooked until recently.
The new marketing techniques of promoting security are not the exclusive domain of the financial community. Insurance compa- nies, private lending institutions, police departments, hospitals and most major corporations are announcing their intentions to secure their computers against future assaults.
* * * * *
Foster GUILTY! Plea Deal Falls ApartSentencing Hearing Date SetNew York Post
University Protests "Closed Computing"Insist Freedom on Information Critical For ProgressUS News and World Report
Fifty New Viruses Appear DailyComplacency Still Biggest ThreatsTampa Tribune
NSA/ITSEC Agreement NearInternational Security Standards ReadiedFederal Computer Week
Justice Department Leads Fight Against Organized Computer CrimeBaltimore Sun
Novell Networks Now SecureGovernment Computer News
OSO Offers Reparations: Directors ResignWall Street Journal
American and Delta Propose MergerNashville Tennessean
Citizen Groups Promote Safe ComputingSt. Paul Register
April 15 IRS Deadline Extended 90 DaysWashington Post
49 States Propose Interstate Computer LawsHarvard Law Review
Courts Work Overtime on Computer CasesChristian Science Monitor
AT&T Plans New Encryption For VoiceCommunications
Microsoft Announces Secure DOSAdmits Earlier Versions "Wide Open"PC Week
3500 Foster Viruses Identified: 5000 To GoInfo World
National Computer Security Plan Cost: $500 BillionWall Street Journal
An End Is In Sight Says NSAPublic SkepticalNew York City Times
Foster Receives Harsh Penalty: 145 YearsAppeal Process Begins, Foster Remains in CustodyWashington Post
* * * * *
The press is often criticized for 'grand standing' and 'sensa- tionalizing' otherwise insignificant events into front page news, but in this case the government said little about the media's handling of the situation. In fact, privately, the White House was pleased that the media, albeit loudly and crassly, was a key element in getting the message to the American public:
Secure Your Computers Or Else.
Everyone agreed with that.
* * * * *
December 17Overlooking Charlotte Amalie,St. Thomas, U.S. Virgin Islands
"You must feel pretty good. Pulitzer Prize. Half of the writing awards for last year, nomination for Man of the Year."
"The steaks are burning." The hype had been too much. Scott alone had to carry forward the standard. He had become expected to lead a movement of protest and dissent. Despite his pleas, his neutrality as a reporter was in constant danger of compro- mise.
"It's kind of strange talking to a living legend."
Scott's deeply tanned body and lighter hair was quite a contrast to the sickly paleness of New Yorkers in winter. "Get the sprit- zer, water the coals and then fuck yourself."
"Isn't this what you wanted?" Tyrone scanned the exquisite view from the estate sized homestead overlooking Charlotte Amalie Harbor on St. Thomas, U.S. Virgin Islands. The safe enclosed harbor housed three cruise ships, but the hundreds of sailboats in the clear Caribbean dominated the seascape.
After the last year, Scott had decided to finally take time off for a proper honeymoon. He and Sonja elected to spend an extend- ed holiday on St. Thomas, in a rented house with a cook and a maid and a diving pool and a satellite dish and all of the lux- uries of stateside living without the residual headaches.