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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"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.