Chapter 10
OK, I'll be supersleuth. Any word on CHAOS? Legion of Doom, The Crusaders?
IT'S ONE BIG DEAL IN THE E-MAIL: NEW CHAOS VIRUSES, EVERY d.i.c.k AND JANE IS WRITING THEIR OWN VIRUSES. COMPUTING WITH AIDS.
Funny. Why don't you put a rubber on your big 640K RAM? Or your mouse?
GOT SOMETHING AGAINST SAFE COMPUTING? IF HALF OF WHAT THEY SAY IS TRUE, WE'RE ALL IN TROUBLE. TAKE A LOOK AT THE PUBLIC BBS'S.
QUITE A CHAT. >
Will do. Any word on the new Central Census Data Base? Every- thing about every American stored in one computer. All of their personal data, ripe for the picking. Sounds like the kind of library that would do the bad guys a lot of good.
CAN'T FIND A DOOR FROM THE INTERNET GATE. THE JUSTICE LINK WAS STILL GOOD YESTERDAY AND THE FBI STILL HASN'T CHANGED A Pa.s.sWORD, SO THAT SHOULD BE AN EASY OPEN ONCE WE FIND THE FRONT DOOR.
GIMME A COUPLE OF DAYS AND WE SHOULD KNOW DAN QUAYLES' JOCK SIZE.
>
Zero! Ha! Keep me in mind.
Steve copied several pages of names, phone numbers and pa.s.swords from NEMO's data base into his computer 3000 miles across the country. These were the most valuable and revered types of files in the underground world of hackerdom. They include all of the information needed to enter and play havoc inside of hundreds of secret and private computers.
National Inst.i.tute of Health 301-555-6761 USER: Fillstein Pa.s.sWORD: Daddy1 USER: Miller9 Pa.s.sWORD: Secret VMS 1.01 SUPERUSER: B645_d.i.c.kY
VTEK NAS, Pensacola, Fla 904-555-2113 USER: Major101 Pa.s.sWORD: Secret USER: General22 Pa.s.sWORD: Secret1 USER: Forestall Pa.s.sWORD: PDQS
IBM, Armonk, Advanced Research 914-555-0965 USER: Port1 Pa.s.sWORD: Scientist USER: Port2 Pa.s.sWORD: Scientist USER: Port3 Pa.s.sWORD: Scientist
There were seventeen pages of updated and illegal access codes to computer systems across the country. Another reason NEMO was so secret. Didn't want just anybody climbing the walls of their private playground. Can't trust everyone to live by the Code.
Steve finished downloading the files from NEMO's distant data base and proceeded to print them out for a hardcopy reference. He laughed to himself. Big business and government never wizened up. Predictable pa.s.swords, like 'secret' were about as kinder- garten as you could get. And everyone wonders why folks like us parade around their computers. He had in his hand a list of over 250 updated and verified private, government and educational inst.i.tutions who had left the keys to the front doors of their computers wide open. And those were just the ones that NEMO knew about today.
There is no accurate way to determine how many groups of hackers like NEMO existed. But, even if only 1/100 of 1% of computer users cla.s.sified themselves as hackers, that's well over 100,000 people breaking into computers. Enough reason to give Big Busi- ness cause for concern. Yet, no one did anything serious to lock the doors.
Steve spent the next several hours walking right into computer systems all over the country. Through the Bank of California in San Francisco, (Steve's first long distance call) he could reach the computers of several corresponding banks. He read through the new loan files, saw that various developers had defaulted on their loans and were in serious trouble. Rates were going to start rising. Good enough for a warm up.
Steve still wanted back into the NASA launch computers. On line launch information, results of a.n.a.lysis going back twenty years, and he had had a taste of it, once. Then, one day, someone inside of NASA got smart and properly locked the front door. He and NEMO were ever on the search for a key back into NASA's computers.
He figured that Livermore was still a good bet to get into NASA.
That only meant a local call, through the SDSU/BBS to Cal Tech then into Livermore. From San Diego, to LA, to San Francisco for a mere 25 cents.
Livermore researchers kept the front doors of their computers almost completely open. Most of the workers, the
For a weapons research laboratory, funded by the Department of Energy, it was a most incongruous situation.
Much of the information in the Livermore computers was considered sensitive but uncla.s.sified, whatever that meant in government- speak, but for an undergraduate engineering major c.u.m hacker, it was great reading. The leading thinkers from the most technical- ly demanding areas in science today put down their thoughts for the everyone to read. The Livermore scientists believed in freedom of information, so nearly everyone who wanted in, got in.
To the obvious consternation and dismay of Livermore management.
And its funding agency.
Steve poked around the Livermore computers for a while and learned that SDI funding was in more serious jeopardy than pub- licly acknowledged. He discovered that the last 3 underground nuclear test explosions outside of Las Vegas were underyield, and no one knew why. Then he found some super-technical proposals that sounded like pure science fiction:
Moving small asteroids from between Mars and Jupiter into orbit around the Earth would make lovely weapons to drop on your ene- mies. War mongers.
All of this fascinating information, available to anyone with a computer and a little chutzbah.
Alexander Spiradon had picked Sir George and his other subjects carefully, as he had been trained to do.
He had spent the better part of twenty years working for West German Military Intelligence, Reichenbunnestrad Dunnernecht Deutchelande, making less money than he required to live in the style he desired. To supplement his income, he occasionally performed extracurricular activities for special interest groups throughout Europe. A little information to the IRA in Northern Ireland, a warning to the Red Brigade about an impending raid.
Even the Hizballah, the Party of G.o.d for Lebanese terrorists had occasion to use Alex's Services. Nothing that would compromise his country, he rationalized, just a little help to the various political factions that have become an annoyance to their respec- tive governments.
Alex suddenly resigned in 1984 when he had collected enough freelance fees to support his habits, but he was unaware that his own agency had had him under surveillance for years, waiting for him to slip up. He hadn't, and with predictable German Govern- ment efficiency, upon his departure from the RDD, his file was promptly retired and his subsequent activities ignored.
Alex began his full time free-lance career as a 'Provider of Information'. With fees of no less than 250,000 DM, Alex didn't need to work much. He could pick and choose his clients as he weighed the risks and benefits of each potential a.s.signment.
With his network of intelligence contacts from Scotland Yard, Le Surite, and the Mossad, he had access to the kind of information that terrorists pay for dearly.
It was a good living. No guns, no danger, just information.
His latest client guaranteed Alex three years of work for a flat fee in the millions of Deutch Marks. It was the intelligence a.s.signment of a lifetime, one that insured a peaceful and pros- perous retirement for Alex. He wasn't the perennial spy, politi- cally or dogmatically motivated. Alex wanted the money.
After he had completed his computer cla.s.ses and purchased the equipment from the list, Sir George dialed the number he had been given. He half expected a live person to congratulate him, but also realized that that was a foolish wish. There was no reason to expect anything other than the same s.e.xy voice dictating orders to him.
"Ah, Sir George. How good of you to call. How were your cla.s.s- es?" George nearly answered the alluring telephone personality again, but he caught himself.
"Very good," the voice came back in antic.i.p.ated response. "Please get a pencil and paper. I have a message for you in 15 seconds."
That d.a.m.ned infernal patronization. Of course I have a bleeding pen. Not a pencil. Idiot.
"Are you ready?" she asked. George made an obscene gesture at the phone.
"Catch a flight to San Francisco tonight. Bring all of the com- puter equipment you have purchased. Take a taxi to 14 Sutherland Place on k.n.o.b Hill. Under the mat to Apartment 12G you will find two keys. They will let you into your new living quarters. Make yourself at home. It is yours, and the rent is taken care of as is the phone bill. Your new phone number is 4-1-5-5-5-5-6-3-6-1.
When you get settled, dial the following number from your comput- er. You should be well acquainted with how to do that by now.
The number is 4-1-5-5-5-5-0-0-1-5. Your pa.s.sword is A-G-O-R-A.
Under the mattress in the bedroom is a PRG, Pa.s.sword Response Generator. It looks like a credit card, but has an eight digit display. Whenever you call Alex, he will ask you for a response to your pa.s.sword. Quickly enter whatever the PRG says. If you lose the PRG, you will be terminated." The voice paused for a few seconds to George's relief.
"You will receive full instructions at that point. Good Bye." A dial tone replaced the voice he had come to both love and hate.
b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l, he thought. I'm down to less than $5000 and now I'm going back to San Francisco? What kind of bleedin' game is this?
Apartment 12G was a lavish 2 bedroom condominium with a drop dead view of San Francisco and bodies of water water in 3 directions.
Furnished in high tech modern, it offered every possible amenity; bar, jacuzzi, telephone in the bathroom and full channel cable.
Some job. But, he kept wondering to himself, when does the free ride end? Maybe he's been strung along so far that he can't let go. One more call, just to see how the next chapter begins.
George installed his computer in the second bedroom on a table that fit his equipment like a glove.
C:cd XTALK C:XTALKxtalk
His hard disk whirred for a few seconds. He chose the Dial option and entered the phone number from the keyboard and then asked the computer to remember it for future use. He omitted the area code. Why had he been given an area code if he was dialing from the same one? George didn't pursue the question; if he had he would have realized he wasn't alone.
The modem dialed the number for him. His screen went momentarily blank and then suddenly came to life again.
>>>>> DO YOU WANT TO SPEAK TO ALEX? (Y/N?)