Terminal Compromise, Winn Schwartau [sight word books txt] 📗

passwords.” Scott persuaded Ty to be humble and

dial his office. He was actually able to guide Ty through the

process of accessing one of the largest collections of informa-

tion in the world.

“How did you know we could do that?” Ty asked after they logged

into the FBI computer from Scott’s study.

“Good guess. I figured you guys couldn’t function without remote

access. Lucky.”

Tyrone scowled kiddingly at Scott. “You going over to the other

side boy? You seem to know an awful lot.”

“That’s how easy this stuff is. Anyone can do it. In fact I

heard a story about octogenarian hackers who work from their

nursing homes. I guess it replaces sex.”

“Bullshit,” Tyrone said pointing at his chest. “This is one dude

who’s knows the real thing. No placebos for me!”

They both laughed. “You know how to take it from here?” asked

Scott once a main menu appeared.

“Yeah, let me at it. What the hell did you want to know anyway?”

“I imagine you have a file on dGraph, somewhere inside the over

400,000,000 active files maintained at the FBI.”

“I’m beginning to worry about you. That’s classified . . .”

“It’s all in the company you keep,” Scott chided. “Just ask it

for dGraph.” Tyrone selected an Inquiry Data Base and asked the

computer for what it knew about dGraph. In a few seconds, a sub-

menu appeared entitled “dGraph, Inc.”. Under the heading ap-

peared several options:

1. Company History 2. Financial Records 3. Products and Services 4. Management 5. Stock Holders 6. Activities 7. Legal 8. Comments

“Not bad!” chided Scott. “Got that on everyone?”

Tyrone glared at Scott. “You shouldn’t even know this exists.

Hey, do me a favor, will ya? When I have to lie later, at least I

want to be able to say you weren’t staring over my shoulders.

Dig?”

“No problem,” Scott said as he pounced on the couch in front of

the desk. He knocked a few days of mail onto the floor to make

room. “O.K., who founded the company?”

“Founded 1984, Pierre Troubleaux and Max Jones . . .”

“That’s it!” exclaimed Scott. “Max Jones. Where?”

“Cupertino, California.”

“What date did they go public?” Scott asked quickly.

“Ah, August 6, 1987. Anything else massah?” Tyrone gibed.

“Can you tie into the California Highway Patrol computers?”

“What if I could?”

“Well, if you could, I thought it would be interesting to take a

look at the police reports. Because, as I remember, there was

something funny about Max Jones,” Scott said, and then added

mockingly, “but that’s only if you have access to the same infor-

mation that anyone can get for $2. It’s all public information

anyway.”

“You know I’m not supposed to be doing this,” Tyrone said as he

pecked at the keyboard.

“Bullshit. You do it all the time.”

“Not as a public service.” The screen darkened and then an-

nounced that Tyrone had been given access to the CHiP computers.

“So suppose I could do that, I suppose you’d want a copy of it.”

“Only if the switch on the right side of the printer is turned ON

and if the paper is straight. Otherwise, I just wouldn’t

bother.” Scott stared at the ceiling while the dot matrix print-

er sang a high pitched song as the head traveled back and forth.

Tyrone scanned the print out coming from the computers in Cali-

fornia. “You have one fuckuva memory. Sheee-it.” Scott sat up

quickly.

“What, what does it say?” Scott pressured.

“It appears that your friend Max Jones was killed in an automo-

bile accident on Highway 275 at 12:30 AM.” Ty stopped for a

moment to read more. “He was found, dead, at the bottom of a

ravine where his car landed after crashing through the barriers.

Pretty high speed. And, the brake lines were cut.”

“Holy shit,” Scott said rising from his chair. “Does two a pat-

tern make?”

“You mean Troubleaux and Max?” asked Tyrone.

“Yeah, they’ll do.”

“In my mind it would warrant further investigation.” He made a

mental note.

“Anything else there?” Scott asked.

“This is the kicker,” Ty added. “The investigation lasted two

days. Upstairs told the department to make it a quick and clean,

open and shut case of accident.”

“I assume no one from dGraph had any reason to doubt what the

police told them. It sounds perfectly rational.”

“Why should they if nobody kicked up a stink?” Ty said to him-

self. “Hey,” he said to Scott. “You think he was murdered,

don’t you?”

“You bet your ass I do,” Scott affirmed. “Think about it. The

two founders of a company the size of dGraph, they’re huge, one

dead from a suspicious accident, and the other the target of an

assassination and in deep shit in the hospital.”

“And it was the hackers, right?” laughed Tyrone.

“Maybe,” Scott said seriously. “Why not? It’s all tying togeth-

er.”

“There’s no proof,” Tyrone said.

“No, and I don’t need it yet. But I sense the connection.

That’s why I said there’s a conspiracy.” He used that word

again.

“And who is behind it and why? Pray tell?” Tyrone needled Scott.

“Nothing’s even happened, and you’re already spouting

conspiracy.”

“I need to do something. Two things.” Scott spoke firmly but

vacantly. “I need to talk to Kirk. I think there’s something

wrong with dGraph, and he can help.”

“And two?”

“I’d like to know who I saw in Amsterdam.”

“Why?” Ty asked.

“Because . . .because, he’s got something to do with . . .what-

ever it is. He as much as admitted it.”

“I think I can help with that one,” offered Ty.

“Huh?” Scott looked surprised.

“How about we go into my office and see who this guy is?” Tyrone

enjoyed the moment. One upping Scott. “Tomorrow.”

Scott decided that the fastest way to reach Kirk, he really

needed Kirk, was to write a clue in an article. Scott dialed the

paper’s computer from his house and opened a file. He hadn’t

planned on writing today – God, how long have I been awake? This

was the easiest way to contact Kirk now, but that was going to

change. Tyrone left early enough for Scott to write a quick

piece that would be sure to make an inside page, page 12 or 14.

* Tuesday, January 12 The Computer As Weapon? by Scott Mason

Since the dawn of civilization, Man has had the perverse ability

to turn Good into Bad, White into Black, Hot into Cold, Life into

Death. History bears out that technology is falling into the

same trap. The bow and arrow, the gun; they were created to help

man survive the elements and feed himself. Today millions of

guns are bought with no purpose other than to hurt another human

being. The space program was going to send man to the stars;

instead we have Star Wars. The great advantages that technology

has brought modern man have been continuously subverted for

malevolent uses.

What if the same is true for computers?

Only yesterday, in order to spy on my neighbor, or my opponent, I

would hire a private eye to perform the surveillance. And there

was a constant danger of his being caught. Today? I’d hire me

the best computer hacker I could get my hands on and sic him on

the targets of my interest. Through their computers.

For argument’s sake, let’s say I want advance information on

companies so I can play the stock market. I have my hacker get

inside the SEC computers, (he can get in from literally thousands

of locations nationwide) and read up on the latest figures before

they’re reported to the public. Think of betting the whole wad

on a race with only one horse.

I would imagine, and I am no lawyer, that if I broke into the SEC

offices and read through their file cabinets, I would be in a

mighty poke of trouble. But catching me in their computer is an

extraordinary exercise in resource frustration, and usually

futile. For unlike the burglar, the computer criminal is never

at the scene of the crime. He is ten or a hundred or a thousand

miles away. Besides, the better computer criminals know the

systems they attack so well, that they can cover their tracks

completely; no one will ever know they were an uninvited guest.

Isn’t then the computer a tool, a weapon, of the computer crimi-

nal? I can use my computer as a tool to pry open your computer,

and then once inside I use it to perhaps destroy pieces of your

computer or your information.

I wonder then about other computer crimes, and I will include

viruses in that category. Is the computer or the virus the

weapon? Is the virus a special kind of computer bullet? The

intent and the result is the same.

I recall hearing an articulate man