Chapter 26

Midnight, Tuesday, January 19 Scarsdale, 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.

WTFO

I heard a good one.

JOKE?

Yeah, do they work over computer?

TRY ME.

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."

HA HA HA HA HA!!! LOVE IT. REAL ICE BREAKER. HA HA.

Facetious?

NO, THAT'S GREAT. IS YOUR RECORDER ON?

You bet. No plagiarism. What have you got?

MORE THAN I WISH I DID. DGRAPH FIRST. WE HAVE IDENTIFIED 54 SEPARATE DGRAPH VIRUSES. I HAVE A FILE FOR YOU. IT LISTS THE VIRUS BY DETONATION DATE AND TYPE, SYMPTOMS AND THE SIGNATURES NEEDED FOR REMOVAL. ARE YOU REALLY GOING TO PRINT IT ALL?

Daily. Our science section has been expanded to every day from just Tuesday. I have all the room I need.

YOU MIGHT MAKE ME RECONSIDER MY OPINION OF THE MEDIA.

Just the facts, ma'am. Just the facts.

HA HA. WE'VE JUST TOUCHED THE SURFACE ON FREEDOM, BUT THE WORD'S OUT. FREEDOM WILL BE AS GOOD AS DEAD IN DAYS. THE NUMBER OF VIRUSES MUST NUMBER IN THE HUNDREDS. IT'S INCREDIBLE. I'VE SEEN A LOT OF VIRUSES, BUT NONE LIKE THIS. IT'S ALMOST AS THOUGH THEY WERE BUILT ON AN ASSEMBLY LINE. SOME ARE REAL CLOSE TO EACH OTHER, EVEN DO THE SAME THINGS, BUT THEIR SIGNATURES ARE DIFFER- ENT MAKING IT EXTRA HARD TO DETECT THEM. EACH ONE WILL HAVE TO BE DONE INDIVIDUALLY.

I suggest we start with the dGraph viruses. You said 54, right?

SO FAR.

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'LL SEND DGVIRUS.RPT. IT'S IN ASCII FORMAT, EASY TO READ INTO ANY FILE YOU'RE WORKING WITH.

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 #1 Detonation Date: 2/2/XX Symptoms: Monitor blinks on an off, dims and gets bright. Size: 2413 Signature: 0F 34 E4 DD 81 A1 C3 34 34 34

Virus #2, #3, #4, #5 Same as above but different dates. 2/3/XX, 2/4/XX, 2/5/XX, 2/6/XX

Virus #6 Detonation Date: 2/2/XX Symptoms: Erases hard disk. Size: 1908 Signature: E4 EE 56 01 01 C1 C1 00 01 02

Virus #7 Detonation Date: 1/22/XX Symptoms: Reformats hard drive. Size: 2324 Signature: 00 F1 8E E3 AA 01 F5 6B 0B 0D

Virus #8 Detonation Date: 1/23/XX Symptoms: Over exercises hard disk heads causing failure. Requires hard disk to be replaced. Size: 2876 Signature: 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 20 The 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," the President 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.

IF YOU WANT TO FIND OUT HOW I DID IT, CALL ME TONIGHT. 9PM. 416-555-3165. THE SPOOK.

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.

FLAG!! 4,576 Computational Errors

Eileen's attention immediately focussed in on the FLAG!! message. The Computational Error figures were normally '0' or '1' a week. Now, 5,000 in one day?

She had the computer sort the 4,576 CE's into the serial number distribution. The Service Department was able to act as a quali- ty control monitor for engineering and production. If something was wrong - once a few hundred thousand copies hit the field - the error would show up by the number of calls. But CE's were normally operator error. Not the computer's.

There was no correlation to serial numbers. Old Version 1.0's through Version 3.0 and 3.1 were affected as were the current versions. By all reports, Lotus 1-2-3 could no longer add, subtract, divide, multiply or compute accurately. Mass computa- tional errors. The bell curve across serial numbers was flat enough to obviate the need for a statistical analysis. This was clearly not an engineering design error. Nor was it a production error, or a run of bad disks. Something had changed.

* * * * *

Scarsdale, New York

On the 6:12 to Scarsdale, Tyrone and Scott joined for a beer. The conversation was not to be repeated.

"ECCO, CERT, the whole shooting match," Tyrone whispered loud enough to be heard over the rumble of the train, "are moving to NSA control. NIST is out. They all work for the Fort now. Department of Defense."

"Are you shitting me?" Scott tried to maintain control.

"It'll be official tomorrow," Tyrone said. "Write your story tonight. The NSA has won again."

"What do you mean, again?"

"Ah," Tyrone said trying to dismiss his frustrated insight into agency rivalry. "It seems that whatever they want, they get. Their budget is secret, their purpose is secret, and now they have every computer security concern at their beck and call. Orders of the President."

"Aren't they the best suited for the job, though . . ."

"Technically, maybe. Politically, no way!" Tyrone said adamant- ly. "I think the Bureau could match their power, but they have another unfair advantage."

Scott looked curiously at Tyrone.

"They wrote the rules."

* * * * *

Scarsdale, New York

Speedo's Pizza was late, so Scott got the two $9 medium pepperoni pizzas for free, tipping the embarrassed delivery boy $10 for his efforts. Not his fault that his company makes absurd promises and contributes to the accident rate.

As 9:00 P.M. approached, Scott's stomach knotted up. He wasn't quite sure what he would find when he dialed the Canadian number. It was a cellular phone exchange meaning that while he dialed the Toronto 416 area code, the call was probably rerouted by call forwarding to another location, also connected by cellular phone. Untraceable. Damn sneaky. And legal. Technology For The Peo- ple.

<<<<< >>>>>

Scott listened to the small speaker on his internal modem card as it dialed the tones in rapid sequence. A click, a buzz and then in the background, Scott heard the faintest of tones. Was that crosstalk from another line or was another secret number being dialed?

<<<<<< CONNECTION 4800 BAUD>>>>>>

The screen hesitated for few seconds then prompted . . .

IDENTIFY YOURSELF:

Scott wondered what to enter. His real name? Or the handle Kirk's hackers gave him.

Scott Mason aka Repo Man

Again the computer display paused, seemingly pondering Scott's response.

I SUPPOSE ASKING FOR FURTHER IDENTIFICATION WOULD OFFEND YOU.

I'm getting used to it. Paranoia runs rampant in your line of work.

LET'S SAVE THE EDITORIALIZING FOR NOW. GIVE ME THE WARM AND FUZZIES. PROVE YOU'RE SCOTT MASON.

You can't keep your eyes off of Sonja's chest as I recall.

GOOD START. NICE TITS.

So you're Miles Foster.

THERE ARE GROUNDRULES. FIRST. MY NAME IS THE SPOOK. MR. SPOOK. DR. SPOOK. PROFESSOR SPOOK. KING SPOOK. I DON'T CARE WHAT, BUT I AM THE SPOOK AND ONLY THE SPOOK. MY IDENTITY, IF I HAVE ONE, IS TO REMAIN MY LITTLE SECRET. UNLESS YOU ACCEPT THAT, WE WILL GET NOWHERE FAST.

Like I said, you're Miles Foster.

NO. AND IF I WAS, IT WOULDN'T MATTER. I AM THE SPOOK. I AM YOUR PERSONAL DEEP THROAT. YOUR BEST FRIEND.

Let me see if I understand this right. You will tell all, the whole story on the record, as long as you stay the Spook? Use your name, Spook, in everything?

THAT'S IT.

The paper has given me procedures. I have to record everything. Save it to disk, and give a copy to the lawyers.

ARE YOU SAVING THIS YET?

No. Not until we agree. Then we outline the terms and go.

I'M IMPRESSED. YOU ARE THE FIRST REPORTER I'VE HEARD OF TO USE COMPUTERS AS A SOURCE. WHO DEVELOPED THE RULES?

The lawyers, who else?

FIGURES.

So. Do we have a deal?

LET ME SEE THE CONTRACT.

Scott and the Spook exchanged notes over their modems and comput- ers until they arrived at terms they both could live with. After Kirk, the rules Higgins had established were clear, easy to follow and fair. Scott set his computer to Save the conversa- tion.

This is Scott Mason, speaking to a person who identifies himself only as the Spook. I do not know the sex of this person, nor his appearance as all conversations are occurring over computer modem and telephone lines. The Spook contacted me today, through my office computer. This is his amazing story.

Spook. Why did you call me?

I DESIGNED THE COMPUTER INVASION OF THE UNITED STATES FOR TAKI HOMOSOTO. WOULD YOU LIKE TO KNOW HOW I DID IT?

* * * * *

Wednesday, January 20 National Security Agency

Marvin Jacobs had a busy day and evening. And night, preparing for his meeting with the President. He would have a chance to make his point, and win it, with an audience in attendance. The high level bureaucrat craved to aspire within the echelons of the government hierarchy, but his inate competence prevented his goals from being realized.

During Korea Lt. Marvin Jacobs served his country as 90 day wonder straight out of ROTC. A business major with a minor in civic administration did not prepare him for the tasks the Army had in store for him. Army Intelligence was in desperate need of quality analysts, people with minds more than marshmallows for brain. The Army Intelligence Division G-2 personnel staff poured through new recruit files in hopes of recruiting them into the voluntary program. But the catch phrase, 'Military- Intelligence,' a contradiction in terms' made their job doubly difficult. So they resorted to other tactics to recruit quali- fied people for an unpopular and often despised branch of the military: they made deals, and they made Lt. Marvin Jacobs a deal he couldn't refuse.

Young Captain Jacobs returned to the United States at the end of the conflict as a highly skilled and experienced communications manager for the evolving communications technology; as antiquated as it appears today. His abilities were widely needed by emerg- ing factions of the government as McCarthyism and the fear of the Red Menace were substituted for Hot War.

The super secret NSA, whose existence was unknown to a vast majority of Congress at that time, made him the best offer from all the Federal Agencies. The payscales were the same, but the working conditions promised were far superior at the Agency. Marvin Jacobs had studied to serve as a civil servant, but he imagined himself in Tecumseh, Michigan politics, not confronting the Communist Threat.

He was rewarded for his efforts, handsomely. In the sports world, they call it a signing bonus. In the deep dark untrace- able world of the National Security Agency they call it All Paid Reconnaissance. APR, for short. Travel when and where you like, ostensibly on behalf of your government. If worse comes to worst, attend a half day seminar and make yourself seen.

By the time he was thirty-five, Marvin Jacobs, now a well re- spected management fixture at the NSA, had seen the world twice over. Occasionally he traveled on business. For the first ten years with the Agency he traveled with his wife, college sweet- heart Sarah Bell, and then less so as their three children ma- tured. Still, although he now travels alone more often than not, he was on a plane going somewhere at least twice a month, if only for a weekend.

The Directorship of the NSA landed in his lap unexpectedly in 1985, when the schism between the Pentagon and the Fort became an unsurvivable political nightmare for his predecessor. Marvin Jacobs, on the other hand, found the job the deserved cherry on a career dedicated to his country. It was largely a political job, and managing the competing factions of his huge secret empire occupied most of his time.

The prestige, the power, the control and the responsibility alone wasn't enough for Marvin Jacobs. He wanted more. He wanted to make a difference. A very dangerous combination.

* * * * *

"It is so good to hear your voice, Ahmed Shah," Beni Rafjani said in Farsi over an open clear overseas line.

"And you. I am but Allah's servant," replied Ahmed, bowing his head slightly as he spoke.

"As we all are. But today I call to say you can come home."

"Home? Iran?" The excitement in Ahmed's voice was more due to the call than the news. "Why?"

"I thought you would be pleased, now that the Red Sun has set." The cryptic reference to the death of Homosoto wouldn't fool anybody listening, but inuendo was non-admissible.

"Yes, my work is going well, and I have learned much, as have hundreds of students that attend my classes. However, with all due respect, I think we may accomplish more by continuing the work that our esteemed leader began. Why should we stop now? It goes very well - in our favor."

"I understand," Rafjani said with respect. "You are honored for your sacrifice, living among the infidels."

"It must be done. I mean no disrespect."

"You do not speak disrepectfully, Ahmed Shah. Your work is important to your people. If that is your wish, continue, for you do it well."

"Thank you, thank you. Even though one grain of sand has blown away, the rest of the desert retains great power."

"Ahmed Shah, may Allah be with you."

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