Less than a minute later, the screen told Scott it was finished. Did he want to Save the file? Yes. Please name it. Mirage.Exe. Would you like to receive another? No. Do you want to exit to Command line? Yes. He entered Mirage.Exe as Kirk had instruct- ed, hoping that he was still waiting at the other end. The screen displayed various copyrights and Federal warnings about illegal copying of software, the very crime Scott had just com- mitted.
The video suddenly split into two windows. The bottom window looked just like the screen he used to talk to Kirk, except much smaller. Only 10 out of a possible 25 lines. The upper half of the screen was new. MIRAGE-Remote View (C)1988.
Kirk announced himself.
WTFO
Yup! I got something. Two screens.
GOOD. THAT MEANS EVERYTHING PROBABLY WORKED. LET'S TEST IT. YOU AND I TALK JUST AS USUAL, ON THE SMALL WINDOW, LIKE WE'RE DOING NOW. ON THE TOP WINDOW, YOU WILL SEE WHAT I'M DOING. EXCEPT IN MINIATURE. BECAUSE YOU ONLY HAVE 15 LINES TO SEE, AND A NORMAL SCREEN IS 25 LINES, THE PROGRAM COMPRESSES THE SIGNAL TO DISPLAY IT IN FULL. DO YOU HAVE A DECENT MONITOR?
vga 14 inch
GOOD. YOU WON'T HAVE ANY PROBLEMS. REMEMBER, WHENEVER YOU WANT A COPY OF THE SCREEN, HIT SHIFT-PRTSCR.
Can't I save everything?
CTRL-ALT-S, YEAH.
Done. Anything else?
YOU CAN'T INTERFERE. JUST ALONG FOR THE RIDE.
A Sunday drive in the country . . .
WITH ME DRIVING. HA! FASTEN YOUR SEAT BELTS.
Scott watched with his fingers sitting on the keyboard with anticipation. A phone number was displayed on top line in the Upper Window: 18005555500.
[DIALING]
In a few seconds the screen announced,
WELCOME TO USA-NET, THE COMPLETE DATA BASE.
The graphics got fancy but in black and white.
ARE YOU A FIRST TIME USER? NO
ID? XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
PASSWORD? XXXXXXXX
The video monitor did not let Scott see the access codes.
Welcome to USA-NET, Kirk.
Time synchronizing: 0:04:57 December 18, 1990
DO YOU WANT THE MAIN MENU? Y
Scott's large window began to scroll and fill with lines after line of options:
(A) Instructions
(B) Charges
(C) Updating
(D) OAG
(E) Shopping Menus
(F) Trading Menus
(G) Conversation Pits
In all there were 54 choices displayed. The lower window came alive.
SEE HOW IT WORKS?
Fascinating.
THAT WAS JUST A TEST. NOW FOR THE REAL THING. SURE YOU WANNA GO?
Scott had gone this far. He would worry about the legalities in the morning. Higgins would have his work cut out for him.
Aye, aye, Captain.
ENGAGE WARP ENGINES.
The upper window changed again.
QUIT? Y
ARE YOU SURE? Y
[[[CONNECTION TERMINATED]]]
Another number flashed in the upper window. 12125559796.
[DIALING]
After less than 2 rings the screen announced that they had ar- rived at the front doors to the computer system at First State Bank, in New York. Another clue. Kirk was not from New York. He used an area code.
Scott felt like looking back over his shoulders to see who was watching him. His automatic flight-or-fight response made the experience more exhilarating. He tried to force his intellect to convince himself that he was far from view, unobservable, unde- tectable. Only partially successful, he remained tense realizing that he was borderline legal.
[[[CONNECTION]]]
PORT CONTROL SECURITY, CENTRAL DATA PROCESSING CENTER, FIRST STATE BANK. O/S VMS R31
SECURITY: SE-PROTECT, 4.0 REV. 3.12.1 10, OCT, 1989
TIME: 00:12:43.1
DATE: 04 December
PORT: 214
ARE YOU SYSTEMS ADMINISTRATOR? YES
ENTER SYS-ADMIN ID CODE SEQUENCE: 8854
[WAITING . . .]
PRIMARY SYS-ADMIN AUTHENTICATION ACCEPTED. PLEASE BEGIN SECOND- ARY IDENTIFICATION.
PASSWORD: 4Q-BAN/HKR
[WAITING . . .]
SECONDARY SYS-ADMIN AUTHENTICATION ACCEPTED. PLEASE BEGIN FINAL IDENTIFICATION.
ID: 374552100/1
[WAITING . . .]
WELCOME TO CENTRAL DATA PROCESSING, FIRST STATE BANK, NEW YORK CITY. YOU ARE THE SYSTEMS ADMINISTRATOR.
*****************
WARNING!!!
PLEASE ONLY INITIATE CHANGES WHICH HAVE BEEN TESTED ON BACKUP PROCESSORS. SEVERE DAMAGE MAY RESULT FROM IMPROPER ADMINISTRA- TION.
*****************
Scott watched in fascination. Here he was, riding shotgun on a trip through one of New York's largest bank computers, and there was no resistance. He could not believe that he had more securi- ty in his house than a bank with assets of over $10 Billion. The bottom window showed Kirk's next message.
WHAD'YA THINK?
Pretty stupid
WHAT?
That the bank doesn't have better control
VIVE LE HACKER!!!
* * * * *
Wednesday, December 2
New York City
"Doug," Scott came into the office breathlessly, "we have to see Higgins. I gotta great . . ."
"Hey, I thought you were gonna come in late today? Wire in the copy?" He looked at the New York clock on the wall. It was 9:15. Scott broke the promise he made to himself to come in late.
"Yeah, well, I underslept." He brandished a thick file of computer printouts. "Before I write this one, I want Higgins and every other lawyer God put on this green Earth to go over it."
"Since when did you get so concerned with pre-scrutiny. As I remember, it was only yesterday that you threatened to nuke Higgins' house and everyone he ever met." Doug pretended to be condescending. Actually, the request was a great leap forward for Scott and every other reporter. Get pre-lawyered, on the approach, learn the guidelines, and maybe new rules before plow- ing ahead totally blind.
"Since I broke into a bank last night!" Scott threw the folder down on Doug's desk. "Here. I'm going to Rosie's for a choles- terol fix. Need a picker upper."
When Scott came back from a breakfast of deep fried fat and pan grilled grease he grabbed his messages at the front desk. Only one mattered:
Higgins. 11:00. Be there. Doug.
Still the boss, thought Scott.
Higgins' job was to approve controversial material, but it gener- ally didn't surround only one reporter, on so many different stories within such a short time span.
"Good to see you, Mason," snorted Higgins.
"Right. Me too," he came back just as sarcastically. "Doug." He acknowledged his editor with only slightly more civility.
"John, the boy's been up all night," Doug conciliated to Higgins. He called all his reporters boys. "And Scott, lighten up." He was serious.
"Sure, Doug," he nodded.
Higgins began. "O.K., Scott, what is it this time? Doug said you broke into a bank, and I haven't had time to go over these." He held up the thick file of printouts. "In 25 words or less." The legal succinctness annoyed Scott.
"Simple. I tied in with a hacker last night, 'round midnight. He had the passwords to get into the First State computers, and well, he showed me around. Showed me how much damage can actual- ly be done by someone at a keyboard. The tour lasted almost 2 hours."
"That's it?" Asked Higgins.
"That's it? Are you kidding? Let me tell you a few things in 25 words or more!" Scott was tired and the lack of sleep made him irritable.
"I did a little checking before I went on this excursion. You bank at First, don't you, John?"
It was a setup question. "Yes," Higgins said carefully.
"I thought so. Here let me have that file. Gimme a minute," he said flipping pages. "Here it is, and yes, correct me if I say anything that you don't agree with." His curtness and accusato- ry sound put b
oth Higgins and Doug off. Where was he going?
"John W. Higgins, social security number, 134-66-9241. Born Rock- ville, Maryland, June 1, 1947. You currently have $12,435.16 in your checking account, $23,908.03 in savings . . ."
Higgins' jaw and pen dropped simultaneously. Doug saw the shock on his face while Scott continued.
"Your mortgage at 115 Central Park West is $2,754.21. Your portfolio is split between, let's see, CD's, T-Bills, the bank acts as your broker, and you have three safety deposit boxes, only one to which your wife, Helen Beverly Simons, has access. You make a deposit every two weeks . . ."
"Stop! How the hell do you know . . ."
"Jeez you make that much? Can I be a lawyer too, huh? Please Mr. Higgins?"
Higgins threw his chair back and stormed around his desk to grab the papers from Scott. Scott held them away.
"Let me see those!" Higgins demanded.
"Say please. Say pretty please."
"Scott!" Doug decided enough was enough. Scott had made his point. "Cool it. Let him have them."
"Sure, boss!" He grinned widely at Doug who could not, for reasons of professional conduct, openly condone Scott's perform- ance, no matter how effective it was.
Higgins looked at the top pages from where Scott was reading. He read them intently, looking from one to the other. Slowly, he walked back to his desk, and sat down, nearly missing the chair because he was so engrossed.
Without looking up he spoke softly. "This is unbelievable. Unbelievable. I can't believe that you have this." Suddenly he spoke right to Scott. "You know this is privileged information, you can't go telling anyone about my personal finances. You do know that, right?" The concern was acute.
"Hey, I don't really give a damn what you make, but I needed to shake the tree. This is serious shit."
"Scott, you've got my total, undivided attention now. The floor's yours. You have up to 100 words." Humor wasn't Higgins' strong point, or his weak point, or any point, but Scott appreci- ated the gesture. Doug could relax, too. A peace treaty, for now.
"Thanks, John." Scott was sincere. "As you know I've been run- ning a few stories on hackers, computer crimes, what have you." Higgins rolled his eyes. He remembered. "A few weeks ago I got a call from Captain Kirk. He's a hacker."
"What do you know about him?" Higgins was again taking notes. The tape recorder was nowhere to be seen.
"Not much, yet, but I have a few ideas. I would hazard to guess that he is younger. Maybe in his late '20's, not from New York, maybe the Coast, and has a sense of responsibility."
"How do know this?"
"Well, I don't know, I guessed from our conversations."
"Why didn't you just ask?"
"I did. But, he wants his anonymity. It's the things he says, the way he says them. The only reason I know he's a he is be- cause he called me on the phone first."
"When did you speak to him?" Higgins inquired.
"Only once. After that it's been over computer."
"So it could be anyone really?"
"Sure, but that doesn't matter. It's what he did. First, we entered the computer . . ."
"What do you mean we?" Higgins shot Scott a disapproving stare.
"We. Like him and me. He tied my computer to his so I could watch what he was doing. So, he gets into the computer . . ."
"How?"
"With the passwords. There were three."
"How did he get them?"
"From another hacker I assume. That's another story." The con- stant interruptions exasperated Scott. "Let me finish, then grill me. O.K.?"
Higgins nodded. Sure.
"So, once we were in, he could do anything he wanted. The com- puter thought he was the Systems Administrator, the head honcho for all the bank's computer operations. So we had free reign. The first place we went was to Account Operations. That's where the general account information on the bank's customers is kept. I asked him for information on you. Within seconds I knew a lot about you." Higgins frowned deeply. "From there, he asked for detailed information on your files; credit cards, payment histo- ry, delinquencies, loans on cars, IRA's, the whole shooting match."
"I have to interrupt here, Scott," Higgins said edgily. "Could he, or you have made changes, to, ah . . .my account?"
"We did!"
"You made changes? What changes?" Higgins was aghast.
"We took all your savings and invested them in a new startup fast food franchise called Press Rat and Wharthog Sandwiches, Inc."
"You have got be kidding." Scott saw the sweat drops at Higgins' hairline.
"Yeah, I am. But he did show me how easy it is to make adjust- ments in account files. Like pay off loans and have them disap- pear, invoke foreclosures, increase or decrease balances, whatev- er we wanted to do."
"Jesus Christ!"
"That's not the half of it. Not even a millionth of it. See, we went through lots of accounts. The bank computer must hold hundreds of thousands of account records, and we had access to them all. If we had wanted to, we could have erased them all, or zeroed them out, or made everyone rich overnight."
"Are you telling me," Higgins spoke carefully, "that you and this . . .hacker, illegally entered a bank computer and changed records and . . ."
"Whoah!" Scott held up his hands to slow Higgins down. "We left everything the way it was, no changes as far as I could tell."
"Are you sure?"
"No, I'm not. I wasn't in the driver's seat. I went along for the ride."
"What else did you do last night, Scott?" Higgins sounded re- signed to more bad news. The legal implications must have been too much for him to handle.
"We poked around transfer accounts, where they wire money from one bank to another and through the Fed Reserve. Transaction accounts, reserves, statements, credit cards. Use your imagina- tion. If a bank does it, we saw it. The point is, John, I need to know two things."
John Higgins sat back, apparently exhausted. He knew what was coming, at least half of it. His expression told Scott to ask away. He could take it.
"First, did I do anything illegal, prosecutable? You know what I mean. And, can I run with it? That's it."
Higgins' head leaned back on the leather head rest as he began to speak deliberately. This was going to be a lawyer's non-answer. Scott was prepared for it.
"Did you commit a crime?" Higgins speculated. "My gut reaction says no, but I'm not up on the latest computer legislation. Did you, at any time, do anything to the bank's computers?"
"No. He had control. I only had a window."
"Good, that helps." The air thickened with anticipation as Doug and Scott both waited for words of wisdom. "I could make a good argument that you were a reporter, with appropriate credentials, interviewing an individual, who was, coincidentally, at the same time, committing a crime. That is, if what he did was a crime. I don't know the answer to that yet.
"There have been countless cases where a reporter has witnessed crimes and reported on them with total immunity. Yes, the more I think about it, consider this." Higgins seemed to have renewed energy. The law was his bible and Scott was listening in the congregation. "Reporters have often gone into hostage situations where there is no doubt that a crime is in progress, to report on the condition of the hostages. That's O.K.. They have followed drug dealers into crack houses and filmed their activities."
Higgins thought a little more. "Sure, that's it. The arena doesn't change the rules. You said you couldn't affect the computers, right?" He wanted a confirmation.
"Right. I just watched. And . . .asked him to do certain things."
"No you didn't! Got that? You watched, nothing else!" Higgins cracked sharply at Scott. "If anyone asks, you only watched."
"Gotcha." Scott recognized the subtle difference. He did not want to be an aider or abettor of a crime.
"So, that makes it easy. If you were in the hackers home, watch- ing him over his shoulder, that would be no different from watch- ing him over a computer screen." He sounded confide
nt. "I guess." He sounded less confident. "There is very little case history on this stuff, so, if it came to it, we'd be in an inter- esting position to say the least. But, to answer your question, no, I don't think that you did anything illegal."
"Great. So I can write the story and . . ." Scott made a forgone conclusion without his lawyers advice. There was no way Higgins would let him get away with that.
"Hold your horses. You say write a story, and based upon what I know so far, I think you can, but with some rules."
"What kind of rules?" Skepticism permeated Scott's slow re- sponses.
"Simple ones. Are you planning on printing the passwords to their computers?"
"No, not at all. Why?"
"Because, that is illegal. No doubt about it. So, good, rule one is easy. Two, I want to read over this entire file and have a review of everything before it goes to bed. Agreed?" Higgins looked at Doug who had not contributed much. He merely nodded, of course that would be fine.
"Three, no specifics. No names of people you saw, nothing exact. We do not want to be accused of violation of privacy in any way, shape or form."
"That's it?" Scott was pleasantly surprised. What seemed like common sense to him was a legal spider web that Higgins was re- quired to think through.
"Almost. Lastly, was this interview on the record?"
Damn good question, Scott thought. "I dunno. I never asked, it didn't seem like a regular interview, and since I don't know Kirk's real name, he's not the story. It was what he did that is the story. Does it matter?"
"If the shit hits the fan it might, but I think we can get around it. Just be careful what you say, so I don't have to redline 90% of it. Fair enough?"
Scott was pleased beyond control. He stood to thank Higgins. "Deal. Thanks." Scott began to turn.
"Scott?" Higgins called out. "One more thing."
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