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

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.

The STU-III phone added funny electronic effects to the voices

that spoke over it; all in the interest of national security.

“Hello?” Jacobs asked.

“Homosoto is dead.”

“I heard,” Jacobs said. “It sounded clean.”

“Very pro. Won’t be a problem.”