“A United States Army General who led the cyber command laid out a clear line on cyber-attacks that, if crossed, could lead to war. ‘If it destroys government or other networks, 1 think it would cross that line of what could cause America to go to war.’” Parovsky looked up from his notes at this point and made eye contact with the audience as a way of stressing the point. Driving it home further, he added that NATO was moving closer to officially applying the law of armed conflict to cyber warfare. “Under the armed conflict law,” Parovsky said, “states can conduct military operations only against combatants and military targets; they are prohibited from attacking civilians or civilian property. But cyber-attacks can have catastrophic consequences, and may physically damage or destroy a target just like a bomb. Stuxnet, you may recall, which our friends at Kostrinsky helped discover...” Parovsky waved his arm towards Eugene Kostrinsky, who sat in the front row beaming with pride. “Stuxnet caused things to stop working, not unlike an explosive device planted by a saboteur, or a bomb or missile strike.”
“This wasn’t just an interruption of someone’s information systems; this was damaging someone’s critical infrastructure through the computers controlling them. Whoever pulled this off did so understanding full well that this action crossed a red line that could conceivably have a very serious response, up to and including war. Given such ramifications, governments would be wise to reign in their people.”
“Could a cyber-attack lead to world war?” he asked, again squinting at the crowd to see if his question elicited reactions. “This, too, is no longer far-fetched. NATO leaders have agreed that a large-scale cyber- attack on a member country could be considered an attack on the entire alliance, potentially triggering a military response. NATO’s decision, announced by its secretary-general, reflects new realities where critical infrastructure, financial systems and government functions can be disabled without firing a shot. The result is that cyber defense is now part of NATO’s core task of collective defense.”
Parovsky mostly read from his notes while hiding behind the flower- camouflaged podium; he certainly wasn’t one of those dynamic conference speakers wired with a cordless microphone who prances around the stage speaking from memory.
He went on to talk about DCA’s structure and its pro-active approach to cyber security, rather than just reacting to attacks, with all content obviously approved for export by internal security. He wrapped up by saying that he hoped he widened the aperture on people’s cyber defense thinking, which had advanced light years since the days when antivirus and firewalls were enough.
It was meant to be a thought-provoking talk, and it did succeed in getting people thinking about the ramifications of attacks. Perhaps it wasn’t the right topic for this conference on “IT Security for the Next Generation,” but so what? His speech was also intended to be a gentle message to the Russians and anyone else listening of what the United States would not tolerate.
Parovsky thrived on this because it made him feel he was on the front lines of the cyber war, manning the defenses. He told people that DCA was the cyber equivalent of the French Maginot Line, missing the irony that the German Wehrmacht merely circumvented the defenses when they invaded France in May 1940.
He liked that he was playing a part, however small, in U.S. foreign policy. It was also nice just to get away and enjoy the change of pace, even though it came at the price of being accosted by dozens of start-ups looking for strategic partners. Yeah right, he thought to himself, like the United States Department of Cyber Activity would use Russian- developed cyber solutions when so many attacks the DCA secs originate from Russia, cynically wondering if these Russian kids pitching cyber defense products were the same kids attacking his networks. It was ironic, he thought, that he was at a cyber-conference in Moscow, capital of the country whose hackers are responsible for no small amount of attacks against the West. One of the best known attacks in recent memory was the one against Target stores in the U.S. when a Russian teenager called “1-ee4” developed BlackPOS point of sale malware that stole credit card numbers from Target’s cash registers. Parovsky felt this one personally, as he was a Target customer whose credit card company had to subsequently cancel his card and issue him a new one. While it was not a great inconvenience, he felt he had been a victim in this case. He and 110 million others. A ‘Target exec was one of the conference speakers.
Before a coffee break, the beautiful Russian woman named Alex from the morning reception table sat down next to him, explaining that she will be his handler, leading him to the exhibition and taking care of anything he needs. Her English vocabulary seemed to have blossomed over the past hour. He smiled at what she said, his perverted mind at work, even though he understood her comment was a matter of language limitations.
In the rush of people approaching him during one of the breaks, a man in a suit approached him and said “Parovsky?” as he nodded his head, pleased with the name. “You could be one of us.”
What the hell does he mean by that ? This is the IT world, he reasoned, with no shortage of brilliant people lacking in social skills. But still, talk about double-meaning. The man’s intonation and his heavily- accented English reminded Parovsky of Count Dracula saying “I want - to suck — your blood.”
“Can we talk?” the man asked.
Parovsky had a sense it might be best to stay the hell away from this one. “I’m rather swamped right now,” intentionally using confusing slang. “Maybe we could catch up later,” he blew him off as he looked for Chaseman.
In his suit, Parovsky stood out in this crowd populated by youngsters wearing jeans and open collar shirts. Representatives from local offices of Microsoft, Intel and IBM mingled with one another and with young Russian entrepreneurs, cyber start-ups, cyber-security enthusiasts and hackers. Some wore blue jeans, sneakers and t-shirts, others wore two or three-piece suits with expensive designer shoes. Sometimes the guy in the suit wore his hair in a ponytail, sometimes it was the guy in jeans. The whole event was full of what felt like young kids. Resumes traded hands. There were impromptu meetings and side discussions, and others just standing around chatting amicably. Everyone seemed to know one another, which made Parovsky feel self-conscious and lonely. He looked again for Chaseman. When he spotted him in the crowd, sipping a cup of tea, Parovsky made his way over to him through the crowd and told his colleague of the mysterious Russian man in the suit, who was no longer to be seen. When Chaseman wandered off in search of something to eat, another man approached Parovsky.
“Hi. How are ya?” the man greeted him in a friendly American accent, extending his hand. The American voice was welcoming compared to all these Russian kids pitching their cyber defense start-ups in their heavily-accented English, and it caught him off-guard. “I used to be a colleague of yours, but over at NSA.”
It was Snowden, the renegade National Security Agency employee who had leaked reams of secret data on NSA activities.
“You’re no colleague of mine,” Parovsky answered abruptly, refusing to shake his hand. Parovsky thought Snowden‘s actions traitorous and despicable, harming the United States. That’s all he needed—a chance—or intentional-photo of him shaking hands with Edward Snowden in Moscow. That would do wonders for my career! he thought. Parovsky made a mental note to submit this encounter to internal security in a Foreign Contact Report.
It annoyed Parovsky that Snowden was intentionally flaunting himself to the U.S. Government representative at this event. Son of a bitch, he thought. This guy’s made presentations via video link at all sorts of conferences using proxy servers to keep his location secret, yet here he is walking around freely in plain sight.
A lot of people back in Washington would love to get their hands on him, actually to get their hands around his neck, he thought to himself. Then he smiled, thinking to himself of a B-52 strike, but realizing it would be overkill, chuckling through his nose.
5. COCKTAIL
; In the evening there was a VIP invitation-only cocktail reception for foreign guests and conference speakers, important attendees and a mix of government officials. Due to his shyness, Parovsky was never particularly fond of cocktail parties. Starting conversations with strangers was never easy for him. Since he had nothing better to do that evening and he was in Moscow only for this conference, he figured he had to go. Chaseman hadn’t made the cut, so Parovsky had no safety- blanket this time.
His fears and apprehension were all realized: walking into a room where he knew no one, where the other guests were talking and laughing, appearing to enjoy themselves, while he stood there by himself feeling awkward, holding a drink while sampling the Swedish meatball, mini empanada and deep-fried salmon hors d’oeuvres being circulated just to keep himself occupied.
He would admit that it was quite a party, in what Parovsky understood to be in typical Kostrinsky fashion, namely lots of flowing alcohol. First of all, the venue they hired for the event was a very hip Moscow restaurant popular with Moscow’s social elite, so he was told. The restaurant’s walls were black, and tables featured large candlesticks and candelabra with congealed dripping wax, something out of a church or cathedral which, in talking to his host, he would learn was intentionally meant to conjure up such images. Recorded classical organ music added to the feel. His gracious host Eugene Kostrinsky, face reddened by obvious consumption of alcohol, spotted Parovsky and approached him. He was actually happy to have Kostrinsky heading his way; at least he’d have someone to talk to. Until then he was only wondering how long he would have to stick around before he could make a graceful exit.
The Russian, wearing an open collared shirt with a light-colored suit, had little beads of sweat across his forehead. He was in a particularly joyous mood as he circulated around the party, greeting guests and making introductions.
“Quite a place, isn’t it?” the Russian asked. “It reminds me of a church,” Kostrinsky continued, “but it’s a place for sinning!” Kostrinsky let out a hearty laugh at his remark. He took two colored shot glasses of vodka from a small round tray carried by one of the very mini mini-skirt- adorned waitresses, handing one to Parovsky, who understood he had no choice. Kostrinsky raised his glass and clinked it with Parovsky’s. It burnt as it went down, while his Russian host poured it down his throat effortlessly.
“I am celebrating 25 years for being in cyber security,” he told Parovsky. “Do you know how I started?” Before Parovsky had a chance to respond, Kostrinsky continued, “Because 25 years ago my Olivetti 24M IBM clone computer was infected by ‘Cascade’ computer virus, so I was so curious about computer viruses so I switched to cyber security because of this. So 25 years in IT security, and it made me paranoid!” He laughed at his own remark; Parovsky smiled at him, noticing how Kostrinsky sort of swayed as he spoke and recalled that he had done the same earlier in the day while speaking at the conference. “Paranoia is a professional disease in this industry!”
Kostrinsky exchanged some more small talk with Parovsky, until the Russian spotted another English speaking guest-the Target Store’s IT exec. An interesting point the executive raised in his conference presentation was that Target had not suffered any actual losses in the cyber-attack; rather its customers had their credit card details stolen. He talked about the new issue of cyber-attack insurance which, in this case, might not have helped Target. There were certainly intangible losses like the negative impact on his company’s reputation, and a significant drop in stock price, but that is hedged against, not insured.
Kostrinsky made the introduction between the two Americans before moving on to drink a shot of vodka with another guest. Parovsky shook his head in disbelief, commenting to the Target guy his amazement at how Kostrinsky was downing so much vodka yet still managed to remain upright! After some talk about how the Russians drink like fish, Parovsky wandered off ostensibly to get some food, but really just to be alone again. Here was the paradox of Elliot Parovsky: he was lonely at the party because he didn’t know anyone, yet he didn’t feel comfortable meeting and making small talk with strangers. The Target exec thought him a snob.
Parovsky spied Kostrinsky telling another guest his story: “You know—I’ve been in this business for twenty-five years,” Parovsky heard Kostrinsky begin. “You know how I began? I’ll tell you. You see, my computer got a virus...” Parovsky stopped listening, but smiled and chuckled to himself, thinking that Kostrinsky was either quite drunk or liked talking about himself. Or, more likely, both!
Parovsky spoke with a retired United States Marine Corps colonel whose presentation at the conference bashing China and Russia for stealing intellectual property from other countries had stood out. He had begun his conference talk speaking in Chinese to drive home his point that if you don’t understand the language of your adversary, you won’t be able to defend against him. He had a very commanding and authoritative stage presence, becoming of a Marine officer, as he warned of cyber industrial espionage and theft.
“I enjoyed your talk today. It livened up the crowd a bit.”
“Thanks. Glad you liked it.”
“I did. A bit of chutzpah.
“A bit of what?”
“’Chutzpah.’ Rather insolent referring to our host as ‘Lieutenant Colonel Kostrinsky of the KGB,’ in Russia, no less!”
“Well, it’s true. I wasn’t bullshitting when 1 said I was being transparent. It’s a fact.”
“Yeah, one that no one liked to talk about given all the access his company has to people’s data,” Parovsky reminded him.
“Well, like you said. It hopefully livened things up a bit. Otherwise these conferences can get a bit boring, fascinating as the topic is.”
“You should have seen the looks on people’s faces when you said that!”
“I couldn’t see a damn thing because of the stage lighting.”
“Trust me,” Parovsky told him. “There were some shocked looks, especially on our host, whose fake smile couldn’t mask his true feeling.”
The colonel shrugged it off. “I simply find it mind-boggling that Kostrinsky is proffering services to defend computer networks given his KGB -sponsored training and relationship with Russian FSB. They’ve got this world-wide security network that people send all sorts of suspicious content to for evaluation. He’s convinced IT giants to embed his code in their products! Has the world gone mad?!” He glowed as he spoke, obviously thrilled by the work he does.
Parovsky asked facetiously if he thought he’d make it out of Russia.
“Naw, I’m not worried.” The Marine colonel waved his hand, as if pushing the concern aside. “My true concern is that I’m going to China in a few weeks.”
Parovsky made a facial expression conveying concern. The Marine had been quite critical of the Chinese in his talk, saying they are out to steal everyone’s intellectual property.
“What are you looking for in China?” Parovsky asked, fascinated by this guy’s life. “Venturing into the lion’s den?”
“Field research,” he answered without elaborating further, and then winked at Parovsky in what Elliot found to be condescending.
“Did you know that more than 30,000 cyber-attacks have been attributed to the Chinese?” he asked Parovsky, shaking his head in amazement at his own statistic. “China’s been identified with massive defense industrial espionage, including more than 500 significant intrusions into U.S. DOD systems. They even got secrets from the stealth Joint Strike Fighter. No wonder their new stealth jet looks so much like ours; meanwhile they’ve probably learned how to pick up the F-35 with their radar.” He again shook his head in disbelief.
Taking Parovsky’s silence as encouragement, the Marine continued his diatribe, bantering on about Chinese hackers breaching the U.S. Pacific Command’s air refueling schedules. “That’s the military command that would lead any future conflict with China,” he stressed. Parovsky listened while eatin
g a handful of salted peanuts he had scooped up from a dish on one of the tables.
“So the Chinese know how USAF conducts its operations in wartime and how they are supported in military operations across the Pacific. And they also stole data on the U.S. Transportation Command’s system that plans missions for sending troops and equipment by all forms of transportation in military operations.”
Parovsky wondered how long this guy would go on talking if given the opportunity. He clearly knew his stuff; according to his bio in the conference program he had identified and exposed five Chinese military officers responsible for cyber espionage activities that the U.S. Government subsequently indicted for hacking U.S. companies’ computers to steal trade secrets. In addition to consulting defense and law enforcement authorities, his research had yielded books on the Chinese cyber threat that were all banned in China, and now he had the audacity to travel there. Too many accomplishments for Parovsky’s liking; Parovksy had heard enough, not to mention feeling intimidated by the tall man standing before him erect with impeccable posture, dangling his accomplishments like the medals he also probably had displayed on his dress uniform.
“Excuse me.” Parovsky abruptly ended the conversation and moved on.
Wandering around the restaurant in a final round before bailing out, Parovsky took in the unique decor, and smiled. There was something deviant about this place, and he liked it. He could imagine an orgy going on here, and figured he had probably watched some video of a wild sex frenzy going on in a place reminiscent of it. He thought about that hot girl from the conference reception desk that morning. What did she say her name was, Alexandra?-and he thought what he’d like to be doing to her.
His pleasurable thoughts were shattered when he noticed the mysterious man who had cryptically greeted him that morning at the conference. The man caught Parovsky’s glance, raised the beverage he held in a toast, and cocked his head to the side, as if to suggest they both head out for a chat. Startled, Parovsky looked away, and fled into the night from the peculiar character.
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