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

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."

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

Chapter 27

Thursday, January 21
The White House, Washington, D.C.

He wanted to make them wait.

The President decided to walk into the breakfast room for their
early morning meeting a few minutes late. Even with intimates,
the awe of the Presidency was still intact. His tardiness added
to the tension that they all felt as a result of the recent
revelations. Perhaps the tension would further hone their atten-
tion and dialogue.

He had not slept well the night before; he was prepared for
anything he understood, but computers were not on his roster of
acquired fluencies. A President has to make decisions, tough
decisions, life and death decisions, but decisions of the type
that have a history to study and a lesson to learn. And like
most of those before him, he was well equipped to make tough
decisions, right or wrong. Presidents have to have the self
confidence and internal resolve to commit themselves, and their
nation, to a course of action. This President's political life
trained him well; lawyer, local politics, state politics and then
Washington.

But not computers. He was not trained in computers. He had
learned to type, a little, and found that sending E-Mail messages
was great fun. To him it was a game. Since the first days when
microcomputers had invaded the offices of governmental Washing-
ton, he had been able to insulate himself from their day to day
use. All the same, every desk he had occupied was adjoined by a
powerful microcomputer fitted with the finest graphics, the best
printer and an elite assortment of software. He used the memory
resident calculator and sent and received electronic mail. That
was it.

The President, as most men of his generation, accepted the fact
that computers now ran the show. The whole shooting match.
Especially the military. The communications and computer sophis-
tication used by the Allies enthralled the world during the Iraqi
War: bombs smart enough to pick which window they would enter
before detonating, missiles smart enough to fly at 2000 mph and
destroy an incoming missile moving at 3000 mph. It turned out
that hitting a bullet with a bullet was possible after all.
Intuitively, the President knew that the crisis developing before
his eyes meant massive computer damage, and the repercussions
would be felt through the economy and the country.

However, the President did not have enough computer basics to
begin to understand the problem, much less the answers. This was
the first time during his administration that major tactical and
policy decisions would be made primarily by others. His was a
duty of rubber stamping. That worry frustrated his attempts at
sleeping and nagged at him before the meeting. And then, of
course, there was the press.

"Gentlemen," the President said sauntering towards his chair at
the head of the large formal breakfast table. He opened the door
with enough vigor to startle his guests. He maintained his usual
heads-up smile and spry gait as he noticed that there were new
faces present.

In addition to the inner circle, Marvin Jacobs asked two key NSA
security analysts to be observers at the meeting. Only if the
President asked a question was it then all right to speak.
Accompanying Phil Musgrave, under admitted duress to repay a
previous favor, was Paul Trump, Director of NIST, the eternal
rival of the NSA in matters of computers. The President was
introduced to the guests and smiled to himself. He recognized
that the political maneuvering was beginning already. Maybe the
competition would help, he thought.

"Marv," the President said leaning away from the waiter pouring
his coffee. This was the same waiter who had spilled near boil-
ing liquid in his lap last month. "I guess it's your show, so
I'll just sit back and keep my mouth shut." He leaned even
further away as the waiter's clumsiness did not inspire confi-
dence.

Group chuckle notwithstanding, everyone in the inner circle knew
what the President really meant. The President was hungry and
Marv Jacobs would not be eating breakfast. He would be answering
questions.

"Thank you, sir," Marv said as he courteously acknowledged the
presence of the others. He handed out a file folder to everyone
in the room. Each was held together with a red strap labeled TOP
SECRET that sealed the package. Not until the President began to
open his package did the others follow suit.

"We've only had a day to prepare . . ." Marvin Jacobs began.

"I know," the President said wiping the corner of his mouth with
a white linen napkin. "That should have been plenty of time."
Marvin, wisely avoided responding to the President's barb. He
took the caustic hit as the other breakfast guests quietly
thanked the powers on high that it was someone elses turn to be
in the hot seat. All in all, though, the President was a much
calmer person this morning than during his verbal tirade the day
before. But, if needed, the acerbity of his biting words would
silence the boldest of his advisors or enemies. The President
was still royally pissed off.

"We have developed a number of scenarios that will be refined
over the next weeks as we learn more about the nature of the
assault by Homosoto." He turned into his report and indicated
that everyone should turn to page 4. "This is sketchy, but based
upon what we have seen already, we can estimate the nature of
what we're up against."

Page 4 contained three Phrases.

1. Malevolent Self Propagating Software Programs (Viruses)
2. Unauthorized Electromagnetic Pulses and Explosions
3. Anti-TEMPEST Coherent Monitor and Pixel Radiation.

Marvin Jacobs described the observed behavior of each category,
but nonetheless the President was unhappy. A rehash from the
newspapers.

"That's it?" the President asked in disbelief. "You call that
an estimate? I can find out more than that from CNN."

"At this point, that's about it."

"I still can't believe this," the President said, shaking his
head. "What the hell am I going to say when I have to face the
press? 'Sorry folks, our computers and the country are going
down the toilet, and we really don't know what to do about it.
Seems as if no one took the problem seriously'" The President
gazed at Marvin and Henry Kennedy, half expecting them to break
into tears. "Bullshit!"

"Sir, may I be blunt?" Marvin asked.

"Of course, please. That's what we're here for," the President
said, wondering how blunt was blunt.

"Sir, this is certainly no time to place blame on anyone, but I
do think that at a minimum some understanding is in order." All
eyes turned to Jacobs as he spoke. "Sir, the NSA has been in the
business of safeguarding military computer systems for years."

"That's arguable," said the President critically.

Marvin continued unaffected. "Cryptography and listening and
deciphering are our obvious strong points. But neither Defense
nor Treasury," he said alluding to each representative from their
respective agencies, "can spend money without Congress's approv-
al. Frankly sir, that is one of the major stumbling blocks we
have encountered in establishing a coherent security policy."

"That's a pile of bull, Marv," said NIST's feisty Paul Trump.
Paul and Marv had known each other for years, became friends and
then as the NIST-NSA rift escalated in '89 and '90, they saw less
of each other on a social basis. "Sir," Paul spoke to the Presi-
dent, "I'm sorry for interrupting . . ."

"Say what you have to say."

"Yessir." Trump had no trouble being direct either. Nearing
mandatory retirement age had made Trump more daring. Willing to
take more risks in the best interest of NIST and therefore the
nation. Spry and agile, Paul Trump looked twenty years younger
with no signs of slowing down.

"Sir, the reason that we don't have any security in the govern-
ment is due to Congress. We, Marv and I, agree on that one
point. Martin, do you concur?"

Treasury Secretary Martin Royce vigorously nodded in agreement.
"We've been mandated to have security for years, but no one says
where the money's coming from. The hill made the laws but didn't
finish the job."

The President enjoyed the banter among his elite troops. He
thrived on open dissent and debate, making it easier for him to
weigh information and opinions. That freedom reminded him of how
difficult it must have been for the Soviets to openly disagree
and consider unpopular positions.

It seems that after Khrushchev took over, in one Politburo meet-
ing, he received a handwritten note which said: 'If you're so
liberal, how come you never stood up to Stalin.' Khrushchev
scoured the room for a clue as to who made the insulting comment.
After a tense few seconds he said, 'would the comrade who wrote
this stand up so I may answer him face to face?' No one stood.
'Now, you know the answer.'

The President's point was, around here anything goes, but I'm the
boss. The difference is the democratic process, he would say,
the voters elect me by a majority to institute a benevolent
oligarchy. And I, he pointed at himself, am the oligarch.

Paul Trump continued. "In reality sir, NIST has tried to cooper-
ate with NSA in a number of programs to raise the security of
many sectors of the government, but, in all fairness, NSA has put
up constant roadblocks in the name of national security. The CMR
problem for the commercial sector has been completely ignored
under the cloak of classified specifications."

"TEMPEST is a classified program . . ." Marvin objected strenu-
ously.

"Because you want it to be," Trump retorted instantly. "It
doesn't have to be, and you know it. Sir," he turned to the
President. "TEMPEST is . . ." The President nodded that he
knew. "The specification for TEMPEST may have been considered a
legitimate secret when the program started in the '70's. But
now, the private sector is publishing their own results of stud-
ies duplicating what we did 20 years ago. The Germans, the
Dutch, the French, just about everybody but the English and us
has admitted that CMR is a problem for everyone, not just the
military. Jesus, you can buy anti-Tempest plans in Popular
Science. Because of NSA's protectiveness of a secret that is no
longer a secret, the entire private sector is vulnerable to CMR
and anti-TEMPEST assaults. As a country, we have no electronic
privacy."

Marvin nodded in agreement. "You're damn right we keep it a
secret. Why the hell should we tell the world how to protect
against it? By doing that, we not only define the exact degree
of our own exposure, but teach our enemies how to protect them-
selves. It should be classified."

"And everyone else be damned?" Trump challenged Jacobs.

"I wouldn't put it that way, but NSA is a DoD oriented agency
after all. Ask Congress," Marvin said resolutely.

"That's the most alienating, arrogant isolationist attitude I've
ever heard," Paul Trump said. "Regardless of what you may think,
the NSA is not the end-all be-all, and as you so conveniently
dismiss, the NSA is not trusted by many outside the U.S.. We do
not have a technology monopoly on TEMPEST any more than we do on
the air we breathe." Trump threw up his hands in disgust.
"Patently absurd paranoia . . ."

"Paul, you don't have all the facts . . ." objected Marv to no
avail. Trump was a master at debate.

"Sir," Trump again turned from the argumentative Jacobs to the
President. "I don't think this is proper forum for rehashing
history, but it should be noted that NIST is responsible for non-
defense computer security, and we have a staff and budget less
than 1% of theirs. The job just isn't getting done. Personally,
I consider the state of security within the government to be in
total chaos. The private sector is in even worse shape, and it's
our own fault."

"Phil?" the President said. "Emergency funding. Congress." Phil
nodded as the debate continued. "None of this is saying a damn
thing about what we should do. How do we best defend?" He bit
off the end of crispy slice of bacon waiting for the answer he
knew would be unsatisfactory.

"We improvise."

"Improvise! That's the best you can do?" The President threw
down his napkin and it slipped off the table to the floor as he
shoved his chair back.

"This country is run by goddamned computers," the President
muttered loudly as he paced the breakfast room. Those who had
been eating ceased long ago. "Goddamned computers and morons."

* * * * *

Thursday, January 21

SPREADSHEETS STOP CRUNCHING
LOTUS AND MICROSOFT STRUCK
by Scott Mason

Last weekend's threats made by the late OSO Industries Chairman,
Taki Homosoto appear to be a trustworthy mirror of the future.

Lotus Development Corporation and Microsoft, two of the software
industry's shining stars are the latest victims of Homosoto's
vengeful attack upon the computer systems of the United States.

With cases of 20-20 hindsight proliferating, security experts
claim that we should have seen it coming.

The last several months has been filled with a long series of
colossal computer failures, massive virus attacks and the magnet-
ic bombing of major computer installations. These apparently
unrelated computer crimes, occurring with unprecedented frequency
have the distinct flavor of a prelude to the promises Homosoto
made in the self penned note that accompanied his seeming sui-
cide.

The latest virus debacle comes immediately on the heels of the
announcement of the dGraph infections.

Yesterday, Lotus and Microsoft and their dealers were inundated
with technical support calls. According to reports, the industry
standard 1-2-3 and the popular Excel spreadsheets have been
experiencing cataclysmic failures in the field. Typical com-
plaints claim the powerful spreadsheet programs are performing
basic mathematical functions incorrectly; a veritable disaster
for anyone who relies upon the accuracy of their numbers.

The leading theory held by both companies as well as software and
security experts, is that a highly targeted computer virus was
designed to only affect Lotus and Microsoft spreadsheet files.
While some viruses are designed to erase files, or entire hard
disks, the Lotus Virus as it has been informally named, is a
highly sophisticated virus designed only to make subtle changes
in the results of mathematical calculations.

Viruses of this type are known as Slight Viruses. They only
infect small portions of the computer or program, and then only
in ways that will hopefully not be detected for some time - thus
compounding the damage.

Fortune 100 companies that use either 1-2-3 or Excel nearly
unanimously announced that they will put a moratorium on the use
of both programs until further notice. Gibraltar Insurance
issued a terse statement: "Due to the potential damage caused by
the offending software, we will immediately begin installation of
compatible spreadsheet programs and verify the accuracy of all
data. Our attorneys are studying the matter at this time."

Lotus and Microsoft stock plummeted 36% and 27% respectively.

* * * * *

GOOD ARTICLE. DO YOU WANT TO GET IT RIGHT NOW?

I see humility reigns right up there with responsibility.

THE FIRST LOTUS VIRUSES WERE WRITTEN IN LATE 1988. CUTE, HUH?
THE LONGEST VIRUS INCUBATION PERIOD EVER!

Not many people share your sense of achievement.

I DON'T EXPECT SO.

We should get something straight right off.

ARE YOU SAVING?

I am now. I do not approve, in fact I despise what you say
you've done.

I AM NOT LOOKING FOR APPROVAL. MAYBE UNDERSTANDING.

Not from me.

YOU'RE BETTER THAN THAT. IF WE DO THIS, YOU NEED TO PRESENT BOTH
SIDES. IT'S TO YOUR BENEFIT. YOU'RE GOING FOR A PULITZER.

Don't tell me how to do my job.

LET'S GET TO IT.

Fine. Where did I go wrong in the article?

NOT WRONG, INCOMPLETE. THERE ARE REALLY 6 VERSIONS OF THE LOTUS
VIRUS. ONLY THE FIRST ONE HAS BEEN DETECTED. THE OTHERS AREN'T
SET TO GO OFF UNTIL LOTUS HAS TIME TO CLEAN UP THE FIRST MESS.

You mean you built several viruses all aimed at Lotus programs?

AND MICROSOFT, ASHTON TATE, BORLAND, CA, NOVELL, LAN MANAGER,
WORDPERFECT, AND A WHOLE BUNCH MORE. THE LIST WAS OVER 100 TO
BEGIN WITH.

100? How many viruses? When?

SLIGHT VIRUSES! I LOVE IT. WHAT A NAME. LIKE I SAID, YOU'RE
GOOD. I GUESS 500. MAYBE MORE. THEY'RE SET TO GO OFF FOR THE
NEXT TWO YEARS. TIME RELEASED. TIME RELEASE SLIGHT VIRUSES.
WHEW!

Why? Why tell me now?

SLOW DOWN. NOT ALL AT ONCE. FIRST OF ALL, WE HAVE TO BUILD YOU
A LITTLE CREDIBILITY. CONVINCE YOUR PUBLIC THAT I AM WHO I SAY I
AM AND THAT I CANNOT BE TOUCHED. SO HERE'S THE FIRST LOTUS VIRUS
SIGNATURE - THE CURRENT ONE: 05 55 EF E0 F4 D8 6C 41 44 40 4D.
IN COMPUTERS THAT ARE INFECTED, BUT HAVEN'T YET STRUCK YET, THE
VIRUS IS TWO HIDDEN FILES: ONE SHORT ONE NAMED 7610012.EXE.
IT'S ONLY 312 BYTES LONG AND HIDES ITSELF IN THE ROOT DIRECTORY
BY LOOKING LIKE A BAD CLUSTER TO THE SYSTEM. IT'S NEVER EVEN
NOTICED. WHEN THE TIME COMES, IT AWAKENS THE SECOND PART OF THE
VIRUS, 7610013.EXE WHICH IS SAVED IN A HIDDEN DIRECTORY AND LOOKS
LIKE BAD SECTORS. ONLY A FEW K. THAT'S THE FILE THAT SCREWS
AROUND WITH 123 MATH FUNCTIONS. AFTER 123 IS INFECTED, THE FILE
LENGTH STILL SAYS IT HASN'T BEEN CHANGED AND THE VIRUS ERASES
ITSELF AND RETURNS THE SECTORS TO THE DISK. IN THE MEANTIME,
LOTUS IS SHOT AND IT IS INFECTING OTHER PROGRAMS. BRILLIANT IF I
SAY SO MYSELF.

And you want me to print this? Why?

IT WILL GIVE YOU AND ME CREDIBILITY. YOU'LL BE BELIEVED AND THAT
IS ABSOLUTELY NECESSARY. WE HAVE TO STOP IT FROM HAPPENING.

What from happening?

THE FULL ATTACK. IT CAN'T BE TOTALLY STOPPED, BUT I CAN HELP.

How much of an attack?

YOU HAVE NO IDEA. NO IDEA AT ALL. THERE WERE THOUSANDS OF
PEOPLE INVOLVED AND NOW IT'S ON AUTOPILOT. THERE'S NO WAY TO
TURN IT OFF.

That's incredible . . .more than incredible. Why? For what
purpose?

MAYBE LATER. THAT DOESN'T MATTER NOW. I WILL SAY, THOUGH, THAT
I NEVER THOUGHT HOMOSOTO COULD PULL IT OFF.

So you worked for him?

I WAS HIRED BY OSO INDUSTRIES TO WORK ON A SECRET CONTRACT TO
DESIGN METHODS TO COMBAT COMPUTER VIRUSES AND STUDY MILITARY
APPLICATIONS. AS THE PROJECT CONTINUED, IT TOOK ON A NEW SCOPE
AND WE WERE ASKED TO INCLUDE ADDITIONAL ELEMENTS AND CONSIDERA-
TIONS IN OUR EQUATIONS.

Equations?

COMPUTER DESIGN IS MATHEMATICAL MODELING, SO THERE'S A LOT OF
PENCIL AND PAPER BEFORE ANYTHING IS EVER BUILT. WE FIGURED THE
EFFECTS OF MULTIPLE SEQUENCED VIRUSES ON LIMITED TARGET DEFINI-
TIONS, COMPUTER SOFTWARE DISTRIBUTION DYNAMICS, DATA PROPAGATION
PROBABILITIES. OUR CALCULATIONS INCLUDED MULTI-DIMENSIONAL
INTERACTIONS OF INFECTION SIMULTANEITY. EVERY POSSIBILITY AND
HOW TO CAUSE THE MOST DAMAGE.

It's a good thing I kind of understand the technical gobbledy-
gook.

OH, IN ENGLISH? WE STUDIED WHAT HAPPENS IF YOU ENDLESSLY THROW
THOUSANDS OF COMPUTER VIRUSES AT THE UNITED STATES.

I got that. So what does happen?

YOU'RE FUCKED FOR LIFE. ONE VIRUS IS A PAIN IN THE ASS. 1000 IS
FATAL.

You have a way with words.

GOD GIVEN GIFT. I GUESS YOU COULD CALL US A THINK TANK FOR
COMPUTER WARFARE.

So what happens next Mr. Spook?

PATRONIZING, NOW, NOW, NOW. LET'S SEE HERE (FLIP, FLIP) SATUR-
DAY, JANUARY 23, NO, THAT WAS THE STOCK EXCHANGE, NO DECEMBER
11, THE PHONE COMPANY AND FEDERAL EXPRESS . . .

Cocky son of a bitch aren't you?

AH YES! HERE IT IS. MONDAY, JANUARY 25. SCOTT, YOU'RE MY
FRIEND, SO LET ME GIVE YOU A TIP. DON'T TRY TAKING AN AIRPLANE
FOR THE NEXT FEW WEEKS.

Why not?

THE NATIONAL RESERVATION SERVICE COMPUTERS ARE GOING TO BE VERY,
VERY SICK.

* * * * *

"Yeah," the deep sleepy voice growled in Scott's ear.

"Ty, wake up."

"Wha?"

"Tyrone, get up!" Scott's excited voice caught Tryone's notice.

"Scott," he yawned. "What's the matter?"

"Are you awake?"

"Don't worry, I had to get up to answer the phone." Then in a
more muffled voice Scott heard Tyrone say, "no, it's all right
dear. Go back to sleep, I'll take it in the den." Tyrone got
back on the phone and barked, "hold on."

Scott paced across his junked up home office, sidestepping some
items, stepping on others, until Tyrone came back on the line.

"Shit, man," were Tyrone's first words. "You have any idea what
time it is?"

"Hey, I'm sorry," Scott said mocking Tyrone's complaint. "I'll
write you a letter tomorrow and lick a stamp and let the Post
Office take it from there . . ."