Since the author also requests remuneration, we would ask these

W >> Winn Schwartau >> Since the author also requests remuneration, we would ask these

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His phone rang.

"Scott Mason."

"Hey, Scott this is Kirk. We gotta talk, I'm in trouble." Kirk
sounded panicked.

"Damn Klingons," Scott cracked.

"Seriously, I'm in trouble. You gotta help me out."

Scott realized this was no prank. "Sure, sure, calm down. What
happened?"

"They found me, and they got into my computer and now it's
gone . . .shit, I'm in trouble. You gotta help me."

"Kirk!" Scott shouted. "Kirk, relax, ground yourself. You're
not making sense. Take it from the beginning."

Kirk exhaled heavily in Scott's ear, taking several deep breaths.
"O.K., I'm O.K., but should we be talking on the phone?"

"Hey, you called me . . .," Scott said with irritation.

"Yeah, I know, but I'm not thinking so good. You're right, I'll
call you tonight."

Click.

* * * * *

Nightline was running its closing credits when Scott's home
computer beeped at him. Though Kirk had not told him when to
expect a call, all other communications had begun precisely at
midnight, so Scott made a reasonable deduction.

The dormant video screen came to life as the first message
appeared.

MASON

That was unlike Kirk to start a conversation that way.

wtfo

ITS ME. KIRK.

Now it was Scott's turn to be suspicious.

Prove it.

AW CMON

Prove it.

I CALLED YOU TODAY

So did half of the crack pots in New York

I'M IN TROUBLE

So were the others.

OK. WE WENT THROUGH THE BANK AND HAD SOME FUN WITH PRESSED RAT
AND WHARTHOG, INC.

Good enough. You sound as scared here as you did on the phone.
I thought computers didn't have emotion.

I DO.

OK, what's up.

THEY FOUND ME

Who?

THE PEOPLE FROM FIRST STATE BANK.

How? What?

I RECEIVED A MESSAGE ON MY COMPUTER, E-MAIL. IT SAID, STAY AWAY
FROM FIRST STATE BANK. YOUR HACKING CAREER IS OVER. OR ELSE.

What did you do?

CALLED A FEW FRIENDS WHO THINK THEY'RE FUNNY.

And?

HONOR AMONG THIEVES. IT WASN'T THEM. SO I FIGURED IT WAS FOR
REAL.

You sure?

AS SURE AS I CAN BE. MY ACTIVITIES ARE SUPPOSED TO BE SECRET.
NO ONE KNOWS. EXCEPT YOU.

And you think I did something.

THE THOUGHT CROSSED MY MIND MORE THAN ONCE, I'LL TELL YOU. BUT, I
THINK I HAVE ELIMINATED YOU

Thanks, Why?

NO MOTIVATION. I'M MORE USE TO YOU ALIVE THAN DEAD.

Excuse me?

AS LONG AS MY IDENTITY AND ACTIVITIES REMAIN SECRET, I'M ALIVE AS
A HACKER AND CAN CONTINUE TO DO WHAT I DO. AS SOON AS I'M FOUND
OUT, IT'S OVER. BUT THAT'S NOT THE PROBLEM.

What is?

I CAME HOME THIS MORNING AND FOUND THAT SOMEONE BROKE IN AND
TRASHED EVERYTHING. COMPUTERS, PRINTERS, MONITORS, THE WHOLE
BALL OF WAX. AND THERE WAS A NOTE.

What did it say?

WE KNOW WHAT YOU'VE DONE. STAY OUT OF OUR COMPUTERS OR YOU WILL
BE SORRY. IT WAS SIGNED FIRST STATE BANK.

That doesn't make sense.

WHAT DOESN'T

Nobody except terrorists leave their calling card, and then only
when they're sure they can't be caught. I would bet dollars to
donuts that First State had nothing to do with it.

ARE YOU SURE?

No, I'm not sure, not 100%, but it doesn't add up. You've
stepped on somebody's toes, and it may or may not have anything
to do with First State. They're just trying to scare you.

AND DOING A DAMNED GOOD JOB OF IT

Have you called the police.

NO. NOT YET. I'M NOT IN THE LINE OF WORK THEY PROBABLY APPROVE
OF.

So I see. Who else knew about your trips through the bank, other
than me. I will assume I'm not the guilty party.

A COUPLE OF HACKER FRIENDS, MY GIRLFRIEND, THAT'S ABOUT IT.

No one else?

NOT THAT I CAN THINK OF.

Let me ask you. If you wanted to find out who was hacking where,
how would you find out? Let's say you wanted to know what your
friends were doing. Is there a way?

NOT WITHOUT A LOT OF EXPENSIVE EQUIPMENT. NO. YOU WOULD HAVE TO
TELL SOMEONE.

And you told no one? No one?

WELL, THERE WAS FREEDOM.

What's Freedom?

FREEDOM IS A NATIONAL BBS SYSTEM. IT'S FAIRLY NEW.

What do they do?

LIKE MOST BBS'S, IT'S AN OPEN FORUM FOR EXCHANGE OF INFORMATION,
PROGRAMS, ETC. IT IS ONE OF THE LARGEST IN THE COUNTRY. THEY
HAVE BBS AFFILIATES IN 50 OR 60 CITIES. THEY ALSO RUN A SHARE-
WARE SERVICE.

Is that significant?

MOST SHAREWARE COMPANIES SELL THEIR SOFTWARE ON OTHER PEOPLE'S
BBS'S. THE CONCEPT IS SIMPLE. THEY GIVE AWAY THEIR SOFTWARE FOR
FREE. IF YOU LIKE IT, YOU ARE SUPPOSED TO SEND IN A FEW DOLLARS
AS A REGISTRATION, AND THAT'S HOW THEY MAKE MONEY. IT'S PART OF
THE CULTURE, DON'T BECOME RICH ON SOFTWARE. FREEDOM WRITES A
TREMENDOUS AMOUNT OF SOFTWARE AND THEY PUT IT ON THEIR OWN AS
WELL AS OTHER BBS'S. IT'S REAL SMART. THEY BASICALLY HAVE THEIR
OWN METHOD TO DISTRIBUTE THEIR SOFTWARE.

Do they make money?

WHO KNOWS. IT LOOKS LIKE A BIG OPERATION. VERY FEW SHAREWARE
PEOPLE MAKE MONEY, AND FREEDOM SAYS ITS NON-PROFIT.

Non-Profit did you say? Are you sure?

THAT'S WHAT THEY SAY.

What's their number?

I ONLY HAVE THE LA NUMBER.

So you are from the Coast.

SHIT. YEAH. I'M FROM THE COAST.

That was an accident. I really don't care.

I KNOW. IT MAY NOT MATTER. I MAY GIVE IT UP. I DON'T NEED MY
COMPUTERS BEING BLOWN TO SMITHERINES TO TELL ME I'M BARKING UP
THE WRONG TREE.

Maybe it is the right tree.

WHAT?

Never mind. So, you said you told them?

WELL, KIND OF. YOU SEE, THEY ARE VERY MUCH AGAINST HACKING.
THEY ALWAYS TALK ABOUT PROSECUTING HACKERS, HOW BAD WE ARE.
AFTER THE FIRST STATE ARTICLES YOU WROTE, A LOT OF PEOPLE ON THE
CHAT LINE CLAIMED TO HAVE DONE THE JOB. NOT THAT WE REALLY DID
ANYTHING. WE JUST LOOKED AROUND. ALL THESE GUYS ADMITTED TO
HAVE DONE IT, SO I ADDED MY TWO CENTS AND SAID I DID IT. I
THOUGHT IT MIGHT ADD TO THE CONFUSION.

Apparently it did.

WHAT DOES THAT MEAN?

Let's say I had something to hide, and let's even say I was First
State.

SO

So, a bunch of people claim to have wrecked havoc on a computer.
What easier way to cover all the possible bases than to threaten
them all.

YOU MEAN EVERYONE WHO ADMITTED IT? OR CLAIMED IT?

Right. Get to them all.

BUT HOW WOULD FIRST STATE KNOW ABOUT IT?

I'm not saying they did. Do you know any of the others who
claimed responsibility?

NOT PERSONALLY. ONLY ONE GUY NAMED DA VINCI I'VE TALKED TO.

Can you call him?

SURE, HE'S ON FREEDOM ALL THE TIME.

Don't use Freedom. Is there any other way to contact him? On
another BBS?

IT WOULDN'T BE HARD TO FIND OUT, BUT WHY NOT FREEDOM?

Look. This BBS may be the only link between the First State hack
you and I were in on, by the way, did you use my name?

DIDN'T NEED TO. YOU WROTE THE ARTICLE. YOU'RE GETTING VERY WELL
KNOWN.

Thanks for the warning. HA! At any rate, you check it out with
this Da Vinci character and once you know, just call me at the
office, and say something like, the Mona Lisa frowned. That
means he got a message similar to yours. If the Mona Lisa
smiles, then we can figure out something else. OK?

SURE. HEY, QUESTION.

Answer.

SERIOUSLY.

I'm serious.

WHAT DO YOU THINK'S GOING ON? YOU BELIEVE IT'S HACKERS, DON'T
YOU?

bLet me ask you a question. How many surrealistic painters does
it take to screw in a lightbulb?

I GIVE. HOW MANY

A fish.

I DON'T UNDERSTAND

That's the point. Neither do I. Yet. But you can help. Accord-
ing to what you're saying, there may be some weirdness with
Freedom. What do you recommend so I can dig a little deeper?
Into the whole cult of hacking. And don't worry. I don't hang
sources. Besides, I think we may need each other.

HOW DO YOU MEAN?

I think you should talk to the authorities.

NO WAY

Wait. I have a friend, ex-friend, who knows about this kind of
thing, at least a little, and he might be of some help to you. I
just don't think it should go unreported. Would you talk to him?

LIVE OR MEMOREX?

He probably would want a face to face, but I can't say for sure.

FORGET IT. BUT I CAN HELP YOU WITH MORE SOURCES. AT LEAST I CAN
TELL YOU WHERE TO GO.

So can a lot of people.

REALLY. NEXT WEEK, THERE'S A CONVENTION OF SORTS FOR HACKERS.

A convention?

WELL, IT'S MORE LIKE AN UNDERGROUND MEETING, A LARGE ONE. WHERE
HACKERS FROM ALL OVER GET TOGETHER AND COMPARE NOTES. IT'S A
GREAT DEAL OF FUN, AND FOR YOU, MIGHT BE A SOURCE OF LEADS.
GENERALLY SPEAKING OF COURSE. YOU CAN'T BE A BULL IN A CHINA
SHOP.

In other words, reporters are taboo.

KIND OF. YOU'LL NEED AN INVITATION, I CAN PROBABLY SWING THAT.
BEYOND THAT, YOU'RE ON YOUR OWN. IT'S A VERY PRIVATE CLUB.

Where is this meeting?

IN AMSTERDAM.

Holland?

YUP.

Why there?

SIN CITY IS AS GOOD FOR HACKERS AS IT IS FOR DRUGS AND SEX. SO
I'M TOLD. HA HA. THE POLICE DON'T GIVE A SHIT WHAT YOU DO.

What goes on?

BESIDES THE USUAL AMSTERDAM ANTICS? A COUPLE OF HUNDRED OF THE
BEST HACKERS IN THE WORLD SHOW UP TO OSTENSIBLY SET CODES OF
ETHICS FOR THEMSELVES, JUST LIKE FREEDOM DOES. IN REALITY,
THOUGH, WE STROKE OUR EGOS AND PARADE AROUND WITH OUR LATEST
CLAIMS TO FAME AND INVASIONS OF COMPUTERS. WAR STORIES OF THE
PREVIOUS YEAR. NEW CRACKING AND HACKING TECHNIQUES ARE SHARED,
PEOPLE LIE TO EACH OTHER ABOUT THEIR ACHIEVEMENTS AND TALK ABOUT
WHAT THEY WILL ACCOMPLISH IN THE NEXT YEAR. PROGRAMASTERBATION.

Some name. Is that really what they call it?

NAH, JUST A TERM WE USE. I WENT LAST YEAR AND HAD A BALL, LITER-
ALLY. IN FACT, THAT'S WHERE I LEARNED HOW TO GET INTO FIRST
STATE. IT WAS SECOND RATE INFORMATION, FIRST STATE IS NOT EXACT-
LY YOUR HIGH PROFILE BANK TO CRACK.

Understood. How do I get in, what's it called?

IT'S CALLED THE INTERGALACTIC HACKERS CONFERENCE, I-HACK FOR
SHORT. ONLY THE BEST GET TO GO.

You're kidding. So what do you do to get me in?

I CALL YOU AGAIN. LEAVE YOUR BOX ON. I'LL GET YOU AN INVITE.

That's great, I really appreciate that. Will you be there?

NOT THIS YEAR. CAN'T SPARE THE TIME. DON'T ACT LIKE A REPORTER.
PARANOIA RUNS RAMPANT.

Will anyone talk to me, as a reporter?

THAT'S UP TO YOU. ASK THE RIGHT QUESTIONS AND SHOW SYMPATHY FOR
THEIR ACTIVITIES. IF YOU'RE LUCKY YOU'LL MEET THE RIGHT PERSON
WHO CAN GIVE YOU A HANDS ON CRACKING LESSON. FAIR ENOUGH?

Again, thanks. I'll expect your call. And, I'll let you know
what my Fed-Friend says about your problem.

TA.

<<<<<>>>>>

* * * * *

Tuesday, December 8
Vienna, Austria

Vienna is not only the geographic center of Europe - for 45 years
it has been the geopolitical center as well. A neutral country,
as is Switzerland, it contains the highest concentration of KGB
and CIA operatives in the world. Perhaps that is why Martin
Templer chose to meet Alex Spiradon there a week after his meet-
ing with Tyrone Duncan at P Street.

Situated by the Danube of Strauss fame, Vienna, Austria is an odd
mixture of the old, the very old and nouveau European high tech.
Downtown Vienna is small, a semi-circle of cobblestone streets
and brash illuminated billboards at every juncture.

Templer contacted Alex through intermediaries stationed in Zu-
rich. The agreed upon location was the third bench from St.
Stephen's Cathedral on the Stephansplatz, where Vienna's main
street, Karntnerstrasse-Rotenturmstrasse changes names. No
traffic is allowed on the square, on Kartnerstrasse or on Graben-
strasse, so it is always packed with shoppers, tourists and
street musicians. Ideal for a discreet meeting.

"Have you ever seen Vienna from Old Steffel?" A deep voice came
from behind where Martin was seated. He looked around and saw
it was Alex.

"Many years ago. But I prefer the Prater." He spoke of the
fairgrounds 2 kilometers from town where the world's oldest
Ferris Wheel offered an unparalleled view of the Viennese sur-
rounds. Templer smiled at his old ally from the German Bunde-
poste. Today though, Alex was an asset to the Agency, as he had
been since he had gone freelance some years ago. An expensive
asset, but always with quality information.

"Did you know that St. Stephen's," Alex gestured at the pollu-
tion stained church, "is one of the finest examples of Gothic
architecture in Europe? And Vienna's paradox?"

Templer had never been a history buff. He shook his head.

"Most of Vienna is Baroque, in fine fashion, but there are iso-
lated examples of Gothic. Yet, they seem to coexist. In peace."
Alex's poetic words rolled off of his well educated tongue. The
allegory was not lost on Templer. Western and Eastern intelli-
gence services used Vienna as a no-man's land, where information
and people were regularly exchanged.

"It is a new world," commented Templer. "The threats are differ-
ent."

Alex took the hint. "Let us walk," he urged.

They slowly strolled up the Kartnerstrasse as the Austrian night-
life took on its own distinct flavor.

"How long has it been, my friend?" Alex casually asked. He
disliked rushing into business, the way the Americans favored.

"Damned if I know. 4, 5, 6 years? Too long. We've had some
good times."

"'85, '86 was it? So much travel blurs the senses." Alex wrin-
kled his forehead in thought. "Wasn't it the Pelton affair?
Yes, that would be summer of '85." He referred to Ron Pelton,
the ex-NSA analyst who sold American cryptographic secrets to
the Soviets.

"Yeah," Templer laughed. "That poor jerk. I'd forgotten all
about that. Never would have caught on to the scam if it weren't
for Slovnov. The KGB should tell their own to stay out of the
Moulin Rouge. Not good for business. Ivan had to trade Slovnov
for Pelton. We didn't find out for a year that they wanted
Pelton out anyway. He was too fucked up for them."

"And now? Who do you spy on since Sam and Ivan are brothers
again?" Alex openly enjoyed speaking obliquely.

"Spy? Ha!" Templer shook his head. "I got pushed upstairs.
Interagency cooperation, political bullshit. I do miss the
streets though, and the friends . . .on both sides."

"Don't you mean on all sides?" Cocktail semantics made Alex
occasionally annoying.

"No, I mean both. At least we had class; we knew the rules and
how to play. Now every third rate country tries to stick their
nose in and they screw it up. One big mess." Templer had been a
staunch anti-Communist when there were Communists, but he re-
spected their agents' highly professional attitude, and yes,
ethics.

"Touch! I have missed our talks and our disagreements. I never
could talk you into something you did not believe in, could I?"
Alex slapped Templer lightly on his back. Templer didn't answer.
"Ah, you look so serious. You came for business, not old memo-
ries?"

"No, Alex, I'd love to chat, and we will, but I do need to get a
couple of questions answered, and then, I can relax. Perhaps a
trip to Club 24?" Templer pointed at the bright yellow kiosk
with the silhouettes of naked women emblazoned on it. For a mere
$300, you can buy a bottle of Chevas Regal and share it with one
or two or more of the lovely skimpily clad ladies who adorned
the bar seats. All else was negotiable in private.

"Done. Let us speak, now. What can I do for you?" Alex ap-
proved of the plan.

"I need some information," Templer said seriously.

"That is my business, of course."

"We have a problem in the States . . ."

"As usual," Alex interrupted.

"Yes," Templer grinned, "as usual. But this one is not usual.
Someone, someone with connections, is apparently using computers
as a blackmail tool. The FBI is investigating domestically, and,
well, it's our job, to look outside. So, I figure, call Alex.
That's why I'm here."

Alex disguised his surprise. How had they found him? He now
needed to find out what, if anything, they knew.

"Blackmail? Computers? That's not a lot to go on." Alex main-
tained absolute composure.

"Here's what we know. And it's not much. There appears to be a
wholesale blackmail operation in place. With the number of com-
plaints we have gotten over the last few months, we could guess
that maybe 10, or 20 people, maybe more are involved. They're
after the big boys; the banks, some senators, folks with real
money and power. And it's one professional job. They seem to
get their information from computers, from the radiation they
emanate. It's something we really want to keep quiet."

Alex listened quietly. If Templer was being straight, they
didn't know much, certainly not the scope of the operation nor
Alex's own involvement. It was possible, though, that Templer
was playing dumb, and trying to elicit clues from Alex. If he
was a suspect.

"What sort of demands are being made?" Alex was going to play
the game to the hilt.

"None. Yet."

"After 2 months? You say? And no demands? What kind of black-
mail is that?" Alex ineffectively stifled a laugh. "This
sounds like some Washington paranoia. "You really don't know
what to do without an adversary, so you create one," Alex chuck-
led.

"Alex, c'mon. No shit, we got some muckity mucks with their
heads in a tail spin and our asses in a sling. I don't know
what's happening, but, whatever it is, it's causing a pile of
shit bigger than Congress and smellier."

"And you thought I might know something about it?" Alex ven-
tured.

"Well, no, or yes, or maybe," Templer said coyly. "Who's got a
grudge? Against so many people? And then, who's also got the
technology to do it. There must be a lot of smart people and
money in on it. You have the best ears in Europe." The compli-
ment might help.

"Thank you for the over-statement, but I have only a small group
on whom I can rely. Certainly your own agency can find out
before I can." Deniability and humility could raise the ante.

"We have our good days, but too many bad days." Templer was being
sincere concluded Alex. "Listen, I need the streets. If there's
nothing, then there's nothing. It could be domestic, but it
smells of outside influence. Can you help?"

Alex stopped to light up a non-filtr Gaulloise. He inhaled
deeply as his eyes scanned the clear sky. He wanted to have
Templer think there might be something.

"How much is this information worth?" Alex was the perfect
mercenary, absolutely no allegiance to anyone other than himself.

"We have about fifty grand for good info. But for that price, it
had better be good."

Alex had to laugh to himself at the American's naivete. Homosoto
was paying him a hundred times that for one job. Being a free-
lancer means treating all customers as equals, and there was no
way he would jeopardize his planned retirement for a cause or for
a friend. This would be easy.

"Phew!" Alex whistled. "Hot off the griddle, huh? I'll see who
knows what. It may take a while, a week, ten days, but I'll get
back to you with anything I find. No promises, though."

"I know it's a long shot, but we have to look at all angles. I
really appreciate it." Templer sounded relieved. He had just
recruited, for no money down, the best source of information in
Europe. "Let's go have a bottle of Chevas. On me." The Ameri-
can taxpayer was about to pay for the sexual relief of a merce-
nary enemy.

Alex made it home at 4:00 A.M. after the romp in Club 24. Or was
it Club 1? He no longer knew, no cared. Despite his intense
intoxication, he had to talk to his employer. Somehow he managed
to get his computer alive. He dialed the number in Tokyo, not
knowing whether Homosoto would be in the office.

ENTER PASSWORD
ENTER CRYPT KEY

He responded to both, nearly blinded from the Chevas, yet his
professionalism demanded that he make immediate contact if possi-
ble.

<<<<<>>>>>

Alex missed the message for several seconds before forcing him-
self alert. He quickly entered his opening words before the
connection would shut down.

I have been contacted.

Homosoto apparently never went home. He got an immediate re-
sponse.

BY WHOM

The CIA

The screen paused for several seconds. Alex was too drunk to
notice.

HOW?

An old frrrriend. He called for a meeeeeeting.

WHAT DID HE WANT?

He asked about the US operations.

HOW MUCH DOES HE KNOW?

They kkknnow about the blackmail. But, they're
fishing

FISH

Looking for answers. They know nothing.

TELL ME MORE. I AM NOT HAPPY.

The FBI is looking for an answer, who is behind the propaganda.
They think it is very important, take it seriously. They brought
in the CIA and, probably, the NSA. The effect is beginning. We
should be pleased.

AND THE PRESS? IS IT IN THE PAPERS?

No, it was suppressed. The Government still controls the press.

AND YOU. WHY CONTACT YOU?

The same reason you did. It is pure coincidence.

I AM NOT CONVINCED.

An old friend, a colleague, called for a meeting. He asked for
my help. He tried to hire me to find out if it was foreign.

WHAT DID YOU SAY?

I told him the streets, the rumors, know nothing. That is true.
He never suspected me. I was surprised. He offered me money to
give him information.

HOW MUCH MONEY?

$50,000 US

I PAY YOU A THOUSAND TIMES THAT

No, only 100 times.

DOES IT MATTER?

Only if they equal your money.

MAKE SURE THEY DO NOT. IT IS NOT WORTH YOUR LIFE.

The CIA does not have that kind of money. That is why the Rus-
sians learned so much for so little. The US does not think they
should pay to keep their secrets.

THEY ARE WRONG. WE CALL IT INSURANCE.

They call it blackmail. They do not have the funds.

WHAT WILL YOU TELL THEM?

I will tell them that it is not from here. No, it must be from
the US. They will believe me. I will charge them for that
information.

AND THEY WILL BELIEVE YOU?

If I make them pay, yes. If I give it for free, no. That's the
American way. They will believe what is easiest to believe.
They do not know that this is my last job. They cannot know. If
they think that, they will suspect me. And then, you.

WHY ME?

They will use drugs I cannot resist. So, I must make sure I help
them.

AND IF THEY OFFER MONEY. AS MUCH AS I DO?

Then we negotiate.

THEN YOU WILL DIE.

<<<<<>>>>>

****************************************************************

Chapter 16

Wednesday, December 9
New York

The late afternoon pace of the City Room at the Times tended to
be chaotic. As deadlines approached and the paper was laid out
for the printers, the flurry of activity was associated with an
increase in the loudness of the room. Scott Mason listened with
one hand over his right ear and the phone so awkwardly pressed
between his left ear and shoulder that his glasses sat askew on
his face. Suddenly hanging up the phone, Scott sprung up shout-
ing, "I got it." Several people stopped and stared in his
direction, but seeing nothing of concern or interest to them,
they returned to their own world.

Scott ripped a page from a notebook and ran into and around his
co-workers. "Doug, I got it. Confirmed by the President."

"You're kidding me?" Doug stopped his red pencil mid-stroke.
"Give it to me from the top." He turned in his swivel chair to
face Scott more directly.

"It goes like this. A few weeks ago Sovereign Bank in Atlanta
found that someone had entered their central computers without
permission." Scott perused his notes. "It didn't take long for
them to find the intruder. He left a calling card. It said that
the hackers had found a hole to crawl through undetected into
their computers. Was the bank interested in knowing how it was
done? They left a Compuserve Mail Box.

"As you can imagine the bank freaked out and told their computer
people to fix whatever it was. They called in the FBI, that's
from my contact, and went on an internal rampage. Those good ol'
boys don't trust nobody," Scott added sounding like a poor imita-
tion of Andy from Mayberry.

"Anybody that could spell computer was suspect and they turned
the place upside down. Found grass, cocaine, ludes, a couple of
weapons and a lot of people got fired. But no state secrets.
You talk about a dictatorship," commented Scott on the side.
"There's no privacy at all. They scanned everyone's electronic
mail boxes looking for clues and instead found them staring at
invasion of privacy suits from employees and ex-employees who
were fired because of the contents of their private mail.

"The computer jocks unplugged the computers, turned them inside
out and screwed them back together. Nothing. They found nada.
So they tighten the reins and give away less passwords, to less
people. That's all they figured they could do."