Terminal Compromise

by by Winn Schwartau

  Chapter 8 Monday, September 21

  New York

  14 Dead As Hospital Computer Fails by Scott Mason

  Fourteen patients died as a result of a massive computer failure this weekend at the Golda Meier Medical Center on 5th. Avenue.

  According to hospital officials, the Meditrix Life Support Moni- tors attached to many of the hospital's patients were accidental- ly disconnected from the nurses stations and the hospital's main computer. Doctors and nurses were unaware of any malfunction because all systems appeared to operating correctly.

  The LSM's are connected to a hospital wide computer network that connects all hospital functions in a central computer. Medical records, insurance filings and treatments as well as personnel and operations are coordinated through the Information Systems department.

  Golda Meier Medical Center leads the medical field in the used of technologically advanced techniques, and has been applying an artificial intelligence based Expert System to assist in diagno- sis and treatment. Much of the day to day treatment of patients is done with the LSM continually measuring the condition of patient, and automatically updating his records. The Expert System then determines what type of treatment to recommend. Unless there is a change in the patient's condition that warrants the intervention of a doctor, drugs and medicines are prescribed by the computer.

  According to computer experts who were called in to investigate, the Expert System began misprescribing medications and treatments early Saturday morning. Doctors estimate that over 50%, about 300, of the hospital's patients received incorrect treatment. Of those 14 died and another 28 are in critical condition.

  Until this weekend, the systems were considered foolproof. The entire computer system of Golda Meier Medical Center has been disconnected until a more intensive investigation is completed.

  In response to the news, the Jewish Defense League is calling the incident, "an unconscionable attack against civilized behavior and the Jewish community in particular." They have called for a full investigation into the episode.

  No group or individuals have yet taken credit for the crime. The AMA has petitioned the Drug and Food Administration to look into the matter.

  Gerald Steinmetz, chief counsel for the Center, said in inter- views that he had already been contacted by attorney's represent- ing the families of the some of the victims of this tragedy. He anticipates extended legal entanglements until such time that the true cause can be determined and blame can accurately assigned. The hospital denies any wrong doing on its or its staff's part.

  This is Scott Mason, determined to stay healthy.

  * * * * *

  December, 4 Years Ago

  Tokyo, Japan

  Miles Foster arrived at Narita Airport as another typhoon shat- tered the coast of Japan. It was the roughest plane ride he had ever taken; and after 2 weeks of pure bliss. Boy, that Homosoto sure knows how to show a guy a good time.

  After their first meeting at the OSO World Bank Building, Miles had flown to Tahiti and spent 18 delightful days at the outer resort of Moorea, courtesy of OSO Industries, with all of the trimmings. He was provided with a private beach house containing every modern amenity one could want. Including two housekeepers and a cook. Only one of the housekeepers knew how to keep house. The other knew how to keep Miles satisfied.

  Marasee was a Pacific Islander who was well schooled in advanced sexual techniques. At barely 5 feet tall and 96 pounds, her long silken black hair was as much as sexual tool as her hands and mouth. Her pristine dark complexion and round face caused Miles to think that he was potentially guilty of crimes against a minor, but after their first night together, he relented that Marasee knew her business very well.

  "Mr. Homosoto-San," she purred in delicately accented English, "wants you to concentrate on your work." She caressed his shoul- ders and upper body as she spoke. "He knows that a man works best when he has no worries. It is my job to make sure that you are relaxed. Completely relaxed. Do you understand?"

  Her eyes longed for an affirmative answer from Miles. At first he was somewhat baffled. Homosoto had indeed sent him on this trip, vacation, to work, undisturbed. But Miles thought that he would have to fend for himself for his physical pleasures. He was used to finding ways to satisfy his needs.

  "Homosoto-San says that you must be relaxed to do very serious business. Whenever you need relaxation, I am here."

  The food was as exquisite as was Marasee. He luxuriated in the eternally perfect weather, the beach, the waves and he even ventured under water on a novice scuba dive. But, as he knew, he was here to concentrate on his assigned task, so he tried to limit his personal activities to sharing pleasure with Marasee.

  In just a few days, a relaxed Miles felt a peace, a solace that he had never known before. He found that his mind was at a creative high. His mind propelled through the problems of the war plans, and the solutions appeared. His brain seemed to function independent of effort. As he established goals, the roads to meet them appeared magically before him, in absolute clarity. He was free to explore each one in its entirety, from beginning to end, undisturbed.

  If a problem confounded him, he found that merely forgetting about it during an interlude with Marasee provided him with the answer. The barriers were broken, the so-called 'walls of de- fense' crumbled before as he created new methods of penetration no one had ever thought of before.

  As his plan coalesced into a singular whole, he began to experi- ence a euphoria, a high that was neither drug nor sexually in- duced. He could envision, all at once, the entire grand strate- gy; how the myriad pieces effortlessly fit together and evolved into a picture perfect puzzle. Miles became able to manipulate the attack scenarios in his mind and make slight changes in one that would have far reaching implications in another portion of the puzzle. He might change only one slight aspect, yet see synergistic ramifications down a side road. This new ability, gained from total freedom to concentrate and his newfound worry free life, gave Miles new sources of pleasure and inspiration.

  As his plans came together, Miles yearned for something outside of his idyllic environment. His strategies grew into a concrete reality, one which he knew he could execute, if Homosoto wasn't feeding him a line of shit. And, for the $100,000 Homosoto gave him to make plans, he was generally inclined to believe that this super rich, slightly eccentric but obviously dangerous man was deadly serious.

  As the days wore on, Miles realized that, more than anything in his life, even more than getting laid, he wanted to put his plan to the test. If he was right, of which he was sure, in a few short years he would be recognized as the most brilliant computer scientist in the world. In the whole damn world.

  His inner peace, the one which fed his creativity, soon was overtaken by the unbridled ego which was Miles Foster's inner self. The prospect of success fostered new energies and Miles worked even harder to complete the first phase of his task. To the occasional disappointment of Marasee, Miles would embroil himself in the computer Homosoto provided for the purpose. Marasee had been with many men, she was an expert, but Miles gave her as much pleasure as she to him. As his work further absorbed him, she rued the day her assignment would be over.

  Miles left Tahiti for Tokyo without even saying goodbye to Mara- see.

  The ritualistic scanning and security checks before Miles got onto the living room elevator at the OSO Building in Tokyo evi- denced that Homosoto had not told anyone else how important Miles was. Even though he recognized the need for secrecy in their endeavors, Miles was irked by the patronizing, almost rude treat- ment he received when he was forced to pass the Sumo scrutiny.

  The elevator again opened into the grand white gallery on the 66th floor.

  "Ah . . .so good to see you again Mr. Foster. Homosoto-San is anxious to see you." A short Japanese manservant escorted Miles to the doors of Homosoto's office. The briefest of taps invited the bellow of "Hai!" from its inner sanctum.

  Homosoto was quick to rise from his techo-throne a
nd greeted Miles as if they were long lost friends.

  "Mr. Foster . . .it is so good to see you. I assume everything was satisfactory? You found the working conditions to your liking?" Homosoto awkwardly searched for the vain compliment. He pointed at the leather seating area in which they had first discussed their plans. They sat in the same chairs they had the last time they met.

  Miles was taken aback by the warm reception, but since he was so important to Homosoto, it was only fitting to be treated with respect.

  Miles returned the courtesy with the minimum required bow of the head. It was a profitable game worth playing. "Very much so, Mr. Homosoto. It was most relaxing . . .and I think you will be very pleased with the results." Miles smiled warmly, expecting to be heavily complimented on his promise. Instead, Homosoto ignored the business issue.

  "I understand that Miss Marasee was most pleased . . .was she not?" The implication was clear. For the first time, Miles saw a glimmer of a dirty old man looking for the sordid details.

  "I guess so. I was too busy working to pay attention." Miles tried to sluff off the comment.

  "That is what she says. That you were too busy for her . . .or to say goodbye and thank her for her attentions. Not an auspi- cious beginning Mr. Foster." Miles caught the derision in Homo- soto's voice and didn't appreciate it one little bit.

  "Listen. My affairs are my affairs. I am grateful for the services, but I do like to keep my personal life just that. Per- sonal." Miles was polite, but firm. Homosoto nodded in under- standing.

  "Of course, Mr. Foster, I understand completely. It is merely for the sake of the young woman that I mention it. There is no offense intended. It is shall we say . . .a cultural difference?"

  Miles didn't believe in the cultural difference to which he referred, but he didn't press the point. He merely nodded that the subject was closed. A pregnant pause followed before Homo- soto interrupted the silence.

  "So, Mr. Foster. I really did not expect to see you for another few weeks. I must assume that you have made some progress in planning our future endeavors." Homosoto wore a smile that belied little of his true thoughts.

  "You bet your ass, I did." Homosoto winced at the colorful language. It was Miles' way of maintaining some control over the situation. His dimples recessed even further as he enjoyed watching Homosoto's reaction. "It turned out to be simpler than even I had thought."

  "Would you be so kind as to elaborate?"

  "Gotcha." Miles opened his briefcase and brought out a sheath of papers with charts and scribbles all over them. "Basically the technology is pretty simple. Here are the fundamental systems to use in the attack, there are only four of them. After all, there are no defenses, so that's not a problem."

  "Problem?" Homosoto raised his eyes.

  "Ok, not problem. As you can see here, putting the technical pieces together is not the issue. The real issue is creating an effective deployment of the tools we create." Miles was matter of fact and for the first time Homosoto saw Miles as the itiner- ant professional he was capable of being. The challenge. Just as Miles promised earlier, 'give me a challenge, the new, the undone and I will be the best.' Miles was shining in his own excel- lence, and his ego was gone, totally gone. His expertise took over.

  "I have labeled various groups that we will need to pull this off."

  "Pull off? Excuse me . . ."

  "Oh, sorry. Make it work? Have it happen?"

  "Ah yes, So sorry."

  "Not at all." Miles looked at Homosoto carefully. Was there a mutual respect actually developing?

  "As I said, we will have to have several groups who don't even know about each other's existence. At NSA we call it contain- ment, or need to know."

  Homosoto cursorily examined the printouts on the table in front of him, but preferred to address Miles' comments. "Could you explain, please? I don't see how one can build a car if you don't know what it's going to look like when you're done. You suggest that each person or group functions without the knowledge of the others? How can this be efficient?"

  Miles smiled. For the first time he felt a bit of compassion for Homosoto, as one would feel for the naive child asking why 1 plus 1 equals 2. Homosoto was used to the Japanese work ethic: Here's a beautiful picture of a car, and all 50,000 of us are going to build it; you 5,000 build the engines, you 5,000 build the body and so on. After a couple of years we'll have built a fabulous automobile that we have all shared as a common vision.

  Homosoto had no idea of how to wage a war, although he apparently afford it. Miles realized he could be in control after all, if he only sold Homosoto on his abilities, and he was well on the way.

  "You see, Mr. Homosoto, what we are trying to do requires that no one, except a few key people like you and I, understand what is going on. As we said in World War II, loose lips sink ships." Homosoto immediately bristled at the mention of the war. Miles hardly noticed as he continued. "The point is, as I have it laid out here, only a handful of people need to know what we are trying to achieve. All of the rest have clearly defined duties that they are expected to perform as we ask. Each effectively works in a vacuum. Efficient, not exactly. Secure, yes. I imagine you would like to keep this operation as secret as possi- ble."

  Homosoto took immediate notice and bolted his response. "Hai! Of course, secrecy is important, but how can we be sure of compli- ance by our . . .associates?"

  "Let me continue." Miles referred back to the papers in front of him. "The first group is called the readers, the second will be dedicated to research and development." Homosoto smiled at the R&D reference. He could understand that. "Then there will be a public relations group, a communications group, a software compa- ny will be needed, another group I call the Mosquitoes and a little manufacturing which I assume you can handle." Miles looked for Homosoto's reaction.

  "Manufacturing, very easy. I don't fully understand the others, but I am most impressed with your outline. You mentioned prob- lem. Can you explain?" Homosoto had become a different person. One who showed adolescent enthusiasm. He moved to the edge of his seat.

  "As with any well designed plan," Miles boasted, "there are certain situations that need to be addressed. In this case, I see several." Miles was trying to hook Homosoto onto the prover- bial deck.

  "I asked for problem." Homosoto insisted.

  "To properly effect this plan we will need two things that may make it impossible."

  Homosoto met the challenge. "What do you need?"

  Miles liked the sound of it. You. What do _you_ need. "This operation could cost as much as $50 million. Is that a problem?"

  Homosoto looked squarely at Miles. "No problem. What is the second thing you need?"

  "We will need an army. Not an army with guns, but a lot of people who will follow orders. That may be more important than the money."

  Homosoto took a momentary repose while he thought. "How big an army will you need?"

  "My guess? Today? I would say that for all groups we will need a minimum of 500 people. Maybe as many as a thousand."

  Homosoto suddenly laughed out loud. "You call that an army? 1000 men? An army? That is a picnic my friend." Homosoto was enjoying his own personal joke. "When you said army, Mr. Foster I imagined tens of thousands of people running all around the United States shooting their guns. A thousand people? I can give you a thousand dedicated people with a single phone call. Is that all you need?" He continued his laughter.

  Miles was taken aback and had difficulty hiding his surprise. He had already padded his needs by a factor of three. "With a few minor specialties and exceptions, yes. That's it. If we follow this blue print." He pointed at the papers spread before them.

  Homosoto sat back and closed his eyes in apparent meditation. Miles watched and waited for several minutes. He looked out the expanse of windows over Tokyo patiently as Homosoto seemed to sleep in the chair across from him. Homosoto spoke quietly with his eyes still closed.

  "Mr. Foster?"

  "Yes?" Miles was ready.
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  "Do you love you country?" Homosoto's eyelids were still.

  Miles had not expected such a question.

  "Mr. Foster? Did you hear the question?"

  "Yes, I did." He paused. "I'm thinking."

  "If you need to think, sir, then the answer is clear. As you have told me, you hold no allegiance. Your country means nothing to you."

  "I wouldn't quite put it that way . . ." Miles said defensively. He couldn't let this opportunity escape.

  "You hold your personal comfort as your primary concern, do you not? You want the luxuries that the United States offers, but you don't care where or how you get them? Is that not so? You want your women, your wine, your freedom, but you will take it at any expense. I do not think I exaggerate. Tell me Mr. Foster, if I am wrong."

  Miles realized he was being asked to state his personal alle- giances in mere seconds. Not since he was in the lower floors of the NSA being interrogated had he been asked to state his convic- tions. He knew the right answer there, but here, he wasn't quite sure. The wrong answer could blow it. But, then again, he was $110,000 ahead of the game for a few weeks work.

  "I need to ask you a question to answer yours." Miles did not want to be backed into a corner. "Mr. Homosoto. Do you want me to have allegiance to my country or to you?"

  Homosoto was pleased. "You debate well, young man. It is not so much that I care if you love America. I want, I need to know what you do love. You see, for me, I love Japan and my family. But much of my family was taken from me in one terrible instant, a long time ago. They are gone, but now I have my wife, my chil- dren and their children. I learned, that if there is nothing else, you must have family. That must come first, Mr. Foster. Under all conditions, family is first. All else is last. So my allegiance shifted, away from country, to my family and my be- liefs. I don't always agree with my government, and there are times I will defy their will. I can assure you, that if we embark upon this route, neither I nor you will endear ourselves to our respective governments. Does that matter to you?"