Since the author also requests remuneration, we would ask these

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

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30 | 31 | 32 | 33 | 34 | 35 | 36 | 37 | 38 | 39 | 40 | 41 | 42 | 43 | 44 | 45 | 46 | 47 | 48 | 49 | 50 | 51 | 52 | 53

Scott walked the three blocks to the Times digesting the effects
of the city's worst nightmare; the paralysis of the traffic
system. At that thought his stomach felt like he had been thrown
from an airplane. The traffic computers.

* * * * *

Washington, D.C.

Sonja Lindstrom watched the New York based Today show from the
kitchen counter in her upscale Reston, Virginia townhouse. What
a mess, she thought. She knew how bad traffic could be in New
York even when the lights worked. A news flash pre-empted an
interview with Joan Embry from the San Diego Zoo. Sonja watched
intently. New York was entering panic mode, and the repercus-
sions would be world wide. Especially with the banks closed.

The New York radio stations linked up with the Emergency Broad-
cast System so they could communicate with the half million
drivers who had nowhere to go. Bridges and tunnels into Manhat-
tan were closed and cars and busses on major arteries were being
forced to exit onto side streets. Schools, shops and non-essen-
tial government services were shut down for the day.

The Governor of New York declared a state of emergency and the
National Guard was called to assist the local police. Sonja
compared New Yorkers' reactions to this crisis to the way they
deal with a heavy snowfall when the city stops. Pretty much like
any other day. No big deal, go to a bar, good excuse for a
party. She giggled to herself as the phone rang.

"Hello?"

"Good morning, Sonja?"

"Oh, hi, Stephanie. Yeah. Kind of early for you, isn't it?"
Sonja sipped her coffee.

"It is, I know, but I had to call you," Stephanie said quickly.

"Something wrong?" Sonja asked.

"I think so, maybe. Wrong enough that I had to tell you."
Stephanie sighed audibly. "You don't have to play up to Scott
Mason any more. I'm getting out."

"Out of what?" Sonja said with confusion.

"I've learned a few things that I don't like, and I've kinda got
hung up on Miles, and, well, I feel funny about taking the money
anymore. Especially since Miles doesn't know about the arrange-
ments. You know what I mean?"

"Yes. With Scott it bothered me a little. So I made believe I
was on the Dating Game. All expense paid date." Sonja knew
exactly what Stephanie meant. Deep inside she had known that at
one point or another she would have to meet the conflict between
her profession and her feelings straight on and deal with it.
She had not suspected that it would be for passion, nor because
of one of her 'dates'.

"Besides," Sonja added, "I didn't need to push him into anything.
He's so hung on this story that it's almost an obsession with
him."

"That's good to know, I guess," Stephanie said vacantly until her
thoughts took form. "Hey, I have an idea. Why don't the four
of us get together sometime. I'm sure the boys have a lot in
common."

"Scott should be down tonight."

"That should be fine. We were going to dinner anyway. Maybe we
can put this behind us."

* * * * *

New York City

The traffic engineers frantically searched for the reason that
the signals had all turned green. They reinitialized the switch-
es and momentarily thousands of green lights flashed red and
yellow, but there was no relief from the gridlock. Computer
technicians rapidly determined that the processor control code
was 'glitching', as they so eloquently described the current
disaster. A global error, they admitted, but correctable, in
time. The engineers isolated the switching zones and began
manually loading the software that controlled each region's
switches in the hope of piecing together the grid.

At noon the engineers and technicians had tied together the
dozens of local switches into the network and watched as they
synchronized with each other. The computers compare the date,
the time, anticipated traffic flow, weather conditions and adjust
the light patterns and sequences accordingly. Twenty minutes
later, just as system wide synchronization was achieved, every
light turned green again. It was then that the engineers knew
that it was only the primary sync-control program which was
corrupted.

The Mayor publicly commended the Traffic Commissioner for getting
the entire traffic light system back in operation by 2:00 P.M..
The official explanation was a massive computer failure, which
was partially true. Privately, though, Gracie Mansion instructed
the police to find out who was responsible for the dangerous
software and they in turn called the Secret Service. The media
congratulated the NYPD, and the population of the City in coping
with the crisis. To everyone's relief there were no deaths from
the endless stream of traffic accidents, but almost a hundred
were injured seriously enough to be taken to the hospital.
Whoever was responsible would be charged with attempted murder
among other assorted crimes. All they had to do was find him.

* * * * *

New York City

Telephoning to another day is about as close to time travel as we
will see for a century, but that's how Scott felt when he called
OSO Industries in Tokyo. Was he calling 17 hours into the next
day, or was he 7 hours and one day behind? All he knew was that
he needed an international clock to figure out when to call Japan
during their business hours. Once he was connected to the OSO
switchboard, he had to pass scrutiny by three different opera-
tors, one of them male, and suffer their terrible indignities to
the English language. He told Homosoto's secretary, whose Eng-
lish was acceptable, that he was doing a story on dGraph and
needed a few quotes. It must have been slow in Tokyo as he was
patched through almost immediately.

"Yes?"

"Mr. Homosoto?"

"Yes."

"This is Scott Mason, from the New York City Times. I am calling
from New York. How are you today?"

"Fine, Mr. Mason. How may I help you?" Homosoto was obviously
the gratuitous sort when it came to the press.

"We are preparing to run a story in which Pierre Troubleaux
accuses you of murdering his partner Max Jones. He also says
that dGraph software is infected with destructive programs.
Would you like to comment, sir?" Scott asked as innocently as
possible under the circumstances.

No answer.

"Sir? Mr. Homosoto?"

"Yes?"

"We are also interested in your relationship with Miles Foster.
Mr. Homosoto?"

"I have nothing to say."

"Are you financing hackers and Arabs to distribute computer
viruses?"

No answer.

"Sir, do you know anything about a blackmail operation in the
United States?"

"I should have killed him."

"What?" Scott strained his ear.

"Mr. Troubleaux is alive?"

"I can't answer that. Do you have any comment, sir? On
anything?"

"I have nothing to say. Good day." The phone went dead.

Guilty as sin. A non-denial denial.

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

Chapter 25

Saturday, January 16
Tokyo, Japan

Dressed as business-like on the weekend as during the week, Taki
Homosoto sat at his regal techno-throne overlooking the Tokyo
skyline from his 66th floor vista. It was time. Years of prepa-
ration and millions of dollars later, it was time. Perhaps a
little earlier than he would have liked, but the result would be
the same anyway.

The first call Homosoto made was to Ahmed Shah in his Columbia
University office. Ahmed responded with his PRG code as the
computer requested.

<<<<<>>>>>

GOOD YOU ARE THERE.

I can't get too far without my man-servant.

I WANT TO THANK YOU FOR YOUR INVALUABLE ASSISTANCE. HE IS DEAD?

Yes. It took two martyrs, one is being tortured by the FBI, but
he has Allah to guide him.

GOOD. CAN YOU DO MORE?

I am at your disposal. This is not the war I expected, but I
serve Allah's will, and he is using you as his instrument of
revenge.

THE BANK CARDS. THEY ARE FOR YOU AND YOUR PEOPLE TO FUND YOUR
EFFORTS.

You speak strangely. Is something wrong?

NO, EVERYTHING IS ACCORDING TO PLAN. I EXPECT YOU WILL FULFILL
MY WISHES.

Of course, that is the arrangement. But what has changed?

NOTHING. I AM FULFILLING MY DESTINY.

As am I.

THEN YOU WILL UNDERSTAND.

* * * * *

Alexander Spiradon relaxed in his Alpine aerie home overlooking
the hilly suburbs of Zurich while watching a satellite feed of
the Simpson's on his TV. He found that he learned American
colloquialisms best from American television. They brutalized
the language under the guise of entertainment. During a commer-
cial for 'The Quicker Picker Upper', his computer announced a
call.

He put the VCR on Quick-Record and sat at his Compaq Deskpro com-
puter watching the screen display the incoming identification.

<<<<<>>>>>

<>

Alex entered the code displayed on his personal identification
card.

G4-YU7-%T64-666.009

<>

Alex figured it was Homosoto since this was a very private com-
puter. His other computer, an AST 386SX with 330 MB of storage
was the one his recruits called with reports. The 25 Sir
George's of his army called twice a day. Once to get their
assignments and once to send him the results of their efforts.

They didn't have to call long distance, though, and never knew
that Alex ran his part of Homosoto's operation from Europe. Sir
George and his hidden compatriots used their untraceable cellular
phones and merely called a local phone number within their area
code. Alex's communications group had set up a widely diverse
network of call forwarding telephones to make tracing the calls
impossible. They exploited all of the common services that
helped make his and Homosoto's armies invisible.

MR ALEX.

Yes, sir.

THE TIME HAS COME.

So soon?

YES. MONDAY IS GROUNDHOG DAY.

Monday? Are you sure? With no warning?

HAVE I EVER BEEN WRONG?

No

THEN DO AS I SAY. PLEASE.

Alex started at the word 'please'. He had never seen Homosoto
ever use it before.

Of course. As you wish.

WHAT ARE THE FIRST TARGETS OF THE GROUNDHOGS?

It is complex.

TELL ME!

The reservations systems of American, Delta, Pan Am and TWA. It
will shut down air travel for weeks.

GOOD. AND?

The NBC, CBS and ABC communications computers. We
have people working in each network. Plus, we have land based
transmitters to garble and override network satellite transmis-
sions. Quite a neat trick actually. I'm impressed with the
technology.

I DON'T CARE ABOUT YOUR TECHNOLOGY. I WANT TO KNOW THAT THEY
WILL WORK. WHO ELSE?

The list is long. Groundhogs are at the Home Shopping Network,
American Express and other credit card companies. The Center for
Disease Control, Hospitals, the IRS, Insurance Companies. Within
a week, their computers will be empty and useless.

THAT IS WHAT I WANT TO HEAR. THIS ENDEAVOR HAS BEEN MOST PROFITA-
BLE FOR YOU, HAS IT NOT?

Very much so. It is appreciated.

THEN YOU WILL NOT MIND IF I INCREASE YOUR PAYMENT.

No. Why?

YOU MUST MAINTAIN THE SANCTITY OF OUR ARRANGEMENTS. NO MATTER
WHAT HAPPENS. DO YOU UNDERSTAND?

Yes. I assume I ask no questions?

YOU KNOW MORE THAN YOU SHOULD, BUT YOU ARE A MAN OF HONOR AS LONG
AS I PAY THE MOST. THAT IS TRUE.

At least you know where I stand.

WILL YOU CONTINUE?

Consider it done. How much more?

ENOUGH. MORE THAN ENOUGH.

<<<<<>>>>>

* * * * *

He couldn't believe it. Scott had just watched Nightline, and
who was the guest? Madonna. How ridiculous. She badly needed
English lessons not to mention a brain. He was relieved when the
call came.

WTFO?

I'm here, Kirk. You're two minutes late.

PICKY PICKY.

I had to sit through a half hour of Madonna explaining why she
masterbates on MTV.

LIFE'S A CESSPOOL. THEN YOU DIE.

You sound happy tonight.

I'M NOT EXACTLY PLEASED, IF THAT'S WHAT YOU MEAN.

What have you got?

WE'VE LEARNED A LOT. FIRST OF ALL, DGRAPH IS INFECTED.

No shit.

PROFANITY. BIG BROTHER AND FREEDOM ARE LISTENING. REALLY. WE
FOUND DOZENS OF DIFFERENT VIRUSES IN LOTS OF DIFFERENT VERSIONS
OF DGRAPH. SOMEONE PUT A LOT OF WORK INTO THIS. I HAVE NEMO AND
EVERY PHREAK I KNOW WORKING ON IT TO SEE WHAT OTHER VERSIONS
THERE ARE. AND I'M SURE THAT HALF THE HACKERS IN THE COUNTRY ARE
DOING THE SAME THING NOW. WORD GETS AROUND. BUT THAT'S NOT THE
HALF OF IT.

Continue, oh messenger of doom.

THERE'S MORE ABOUT THE FREEDOM BOARDS. I THOUGHT
YOU MIGHT BE INTERESTED IN WHAT WE FOUND.

I'm hanging on your every byte.

GOOD. FIRST OF ALL, I HAD NO IDEA HOW BIG THE FREEDOM LEAGUE
WAS. OVER 1600 MEMBER BBS'S HERE AND IN CANADA.

Is that large?

THAT MAKES THEM A FULL FLEDGED NATIONAL NETWORK. ALMOST A MIL-
LION PEOPLE BELONG. BUT THE BEST PART? THE FREEDOM LEAGUE
SOFTWARE IS FILLED WITH VIRUSES TOO.

You've got to be kidding. A million people in on it?

NO, NOT AT ALL. COULD BE JUST A FEW.

A few? How many are a few?

QUIET! THE FREEDOM LEAGUE RUNS A SORT OF FRANCHISE SERVICE FOR
BBS'S. THEY GIVE YOU ALL OF THE TOOLS AND TOYS AND SOFTWARE TO
HAVE YOUR OWN FREEDOM LEAGUE BBS. SO ANYONE WHO WANTS TO, CAN
SET THEMSELVES UP FOR FREE. FREEDOM GIVES THEM EVERYTHING BUT A
COMPUTER AND A MODEM.

And in exchange, they have to sell Freedom Software.

NOT EXACTLY SELL, SHAREWARE IS FREE TO DISTRIBUTE, IN THEORY
ONLY A FEW PEOPLE MAY EVEN KNOW ABOUT THE INFECTIONS. WHOEVER IS
DESIGNING THE PROGRAMS HAS TO BE IN ON IT.

And the franchisers, of course! They set up their own distribu-
tion of viruses.

I WOULD GUESS THAT ABOUT 100 OF THE FREEDOM BBS'S KNOW ABOUT THE
INFECTIONS.

Why, how do you know that?

GOOD GUESS. WHEN FREEDOM STARTED UP BACK IN '88, IT HAD 100
LOCATIONS.

So it was staged, set up?

MUSTA BEEN. NOT CHEAP. A GOOD BBS TAKES ABOUT $10,000 TO GET
GOING.

A million bucks. Chump change.

FOR WHO?

Just a friend. What else?

THEY'VE DISTRIBUTED MILLIONS OF PROGRAMS. MILLIONS.

Is every one infected?

I GUESS SO. EVERY ONE WE'VE LOOKED AT IS.

Who else knows.

NEMO, PHREAK PHRIENDS. IN A COUPLE OF DAYS YOU WON'T BE ABLE TO
GIVE FREEDOM AWAY. IF IT'S INFECTED, WHICH IT IS, IT'S ALL OVER
FOR THEM. THEIR REP IS SHOT.

Aren't you worried about a repeat performance on your computers?

NO. I MOVED WHAT WAS LEFT OF MY EQUIPMENT AND WE SWITCHED TO
CELLULAR CALL FORWARDING. CAN'T BE TRACED FOR MONTHS. BUT I
APPRECIATE THE CONCERN.

I'll call you. My main man is going to want to talk to you.

* * * * *

Monday, January 18
New York City Times

dGRAPH INFECTED WITH VIRUS: DGI OFFERS FREE UPGRADES.
by Scott Mason

In an unprecedented computer software announcement, DGI President
and industry magnate Pierre Troubleaux admitted that every copy
of dGraph sold since late 1987 contains and is infected with
highly dangerous and contagious computer viruses.

He blamed Taki Homosoto, chairman of OSO Industries, and the
parent company of DGI for the viruses that Troubleaux said were
implanted on purpose.

Mr. Homosoto had no comment on the allegations.

Since there are so many different viruses present in the dozens
of dGraph versions, (Mr. Troubleaux estimates there may be as
many as 500) it is impossible to determine the exact detonation
dates or anticipated damage. Therefore DGI is offering free
uninfected copies of dGraph to every registered user.

Industry reaction was strong, but surprisingly non-critical of
DGI's dilemma. In general the reaction was one of shock and
disbelief. "If this is true," said one source, "the amount of
damage done will be incalculable." He went on to say that since
the virus problem has been largely ignored, very few businesses
have any sort of defensive measures in place. Estimates are that
large companies have the most to lose when the dGraph Virus
explodes.

The major software manufacturers came to DGI's support saying,
". . .it was bound to happen sooner or later. We're just glad it
didn't happen to us." Leading software firms including Micro-
soft, Lotus, Computer Associates and Borland have offered their
disk duplication and shipping facilities to assist DGI in dis-
tributing over four million copies of the program.

Even with such support policies by DGI and the assistance of the
software industry, there is a great fear that the infected dGraph
programs have communicated viruses to other programs and comput-
ers. According to Ralph Potter of the International Virus Asso-
ciation, "This is a disaster of unfathomable proportions. It
could not be much worse than if DOS had been carrying a virus for
years. The designers knew what they were doing, waiting so long
before the viruses were triggered to go off. The ultimate Trojan
Horse."

The National Computer Systems Laboratory at the National Insti-
tute of Standards and Technology issued a terse statement saying
that they would soon publish recommended procedures to minimize
the effects of the current virus crisis. They predicted at least
2 millions personal computers would be stricken with the dGraph
Viruses.

One dGraph User Group in Milwaukee, Wisconsin has begun a class
action suit against DGI and OSO on behalf of all users who have
damage done to their computers and or data. They claim at least
10,000 co-plaintiffs on the initial filing with District Court in
Milwaukee and are asking for $10 Billion in damages.

End.

Scott's story went on to describe that the FBI and Secret Service
were taking the threat as a national security risk and would make
a public statement in a day or so. Leading software industry
prophets were quoted, all taking credit for warning the computer
industry that such massive assaults were predictable and prevent-
able. They blamed the government and computer manufacturers for
laxidazical handling of a serious problem that could have been
prevented. Scott had to make a large chart to keep track of the
competitive finger pointing from the experts.

DGI's stock fell 75% after the announcement until the SEC sus-
pended its trading.

* * * * *

The Associated Press wire announcement was followed in seconds by
the one from UPI. Doug tore it off the printer and raced it over
to Scott.

"I believe this will be of interest to you . . ." Doug chuckled
as Scott read the wire.

Tokyo, Japan: Taki Homosoto, the billionaire founder and
chairman of OSO Industries, was found dead this afternoon in
his opulent Tokyo office. According to police and company
spokespersons, Mr. Homosoto died by his own hands in tradi-
tional Japanese warrior fashion; hari-kari. His body was
found curled up in a pool of blood with the ritualistic
sword penetrating his abdomen protruding from his lower
back.

Police say they discovered a note on his person that ex-
plained the apparent suicide. The letter is believed to have
been hand written by Mr. Homosoto. The contents of that
letter, as released by the Tokyo police follow:

Honorable Friends,

I now resign as Chairman of OSO Industries. My time is
over.

For almost 50 years I have waited to see the United States
and its people suffer as my people did during those terrible
days in August. The United States gave our people no warn-
ing, and tens of thousands of innocent women and children
died without purpose. This criminal sin is one which the
United States and its people will have to live with for all
eternity.

Yet, out of compassion for the millions of innocent bystand-
ers who are helplessly trapped by their government's indif-
ference to human life, I will give the American people a
warning: Without your computers your future is dim, and your
present becomes the past.

When I was told about the attack plans on the United States,
I admit that I was a willing but skeptical buyer. I found
it hard to believe, indeed incredible, that the greatest
military power on Earth was so foolish. I learned that
there were no defenses for the computers that run your
country. How unfortunate for you.

It was shown me how to execute the plans which invade the
very bastions of Western Imperialism; and I have succeeded
admirably. You will not recover for years, as we did not
after your hideous attack upon our land.

By the time you read this, I will be dead and happy. My
creations will have taken hold, and unshakeable from their
roots, will spread chaos and distrust. This is the world's
first computer war and I have waged it and I will win it.

Retaliate! Retaliate, if you wish, if you can; but you will
not, you cannot. Who do you attack? My country? They had
nothing to do with it. My company? I will be dead and
there is no double jeopardy in death.

You have nothing to say, and nothing to do in response. As
we did not after your fire-bombs landed. We could say
nothing.

Helplessness is a terrible feeling. It is one of loneli-
ness, solitude in a personal hell which your people shall
suffer as they learn to live without the luxuries of tech-
nology. You will pay for your ancestor's mistakes.

To the memory and honor of my family.

Taki Homosoto

* * * * *

Scott Mason called Tyrone Duncan immediately.

"I know," said Tyrone, sounding out of breath. "We're on it.
Pierre's getting additional protection. It turns out that Mr.
Homosoto isn't as pure as the driven snow like he pretends to
be."

"How do you mean?" Scott asked.

"Off the record."

"Background." The negotiation on press terms was complete.

"All right, but be careful. It seems that since the 1940's Mr.
Homosoto has been performing some very lucrative services for our
friends at the Pentagon. He has some influential friends in
Congress and uses an assortment of lobbying firms to promote his
interests."

"What's so unusual about that?" Asked Scott.

"Nothing, until you see that certain Congressmen got very wealthy
when OSO Industries built plants in their districts. Heavy PAC
contributions, blind distribution of small contributing funds. It
also appears that he regularly entertained high Pentagon offi-
cials in the finest fashion. Paris, Tokyo, Rio, Macao. Influ-
ence pedaling and bribery. We have traced a path from Tokyo to
the Pentagon that has resulted in OSO subsidiaries receiving
large non-classified government contracts. Take dGraph for
example. That's a de facto standard for all agencies."

"I never thought about that. Everyone in the government uses
it."

"Just like the private sector. I'm on my way to have a little
talk with your Mr. Foster. I don't believe in coincidences."

"Good, where?" Asked Scott excitedly.

"Whoah! Wait a minute. This is official now, and I can't have a
civilian . . ."

"Bullshit!" Scott yelled into the phone. "Don't you get GI on
me. I gave him to you. Remember? Besides, I know him. And I
might have something else."

"What's that?"

"What if I told you that the Freedom League is part of it? And
that it's being run by foreign nationals."

"So what?" asked Tyrone.

"How far did you check into the van driver's background? Wasn't
he Arab?" Scott offered tidbits that he thought relevant.

"Yeah . . ."

"When are you meeting Foster?"

Tyrone thought carefully about Scott's words. "Listen, I have to
get a warrant anyway. It'll probably take till tomorrow."
Tyrone paused for the subtle offer to sink in to Scott. "He's
listed. Gotta go."

One hell of a guy, thought Scott. If it ever got out that Tyrone
worked with the media like this, he would be immediately retired,
if not possibly prosecuted. But nobody else was doing anything,
and Scott had given them Foster on a silver platter. He would
save the Freedom League story for the moment.

* * * * *

The Motorola STU-III secure phone rang on the credenza behind
Marvin Jacobs desk. He had been Director of the National Securi-
ty Agency, DIRNSA, since 1984, installed in that position because
he gave the distinct impression that he didn't care about any-
thing except satisfying his mentor; in this case Vice President
Bush.