"I won't ask," Scott said as soon as Stephanie's feet disappeared from view on the elegant spiral staircase to the second floor.
"Thanks. And, by the way, Perky probably doesn't need to hear too much about Amsterdam," Miles said with a mildly sinister touch.
"We used to call it the rules of the road," Scott remembered.
"I call it survival. Christ, sometimes I get so fucking horny, I swear the crack of dawn is in trouble."
Scott's mind played with the varied imagery of Miles' creative phraseology. The name was different, he thought, but the charac- ter was the same.
"You know," Scott said as the two stood on the deck, drinks in hand, soaking up the brisk lake air. "I really don't understand you."
"What's to understand?" Miles' gaze remained constant over the moonlit water.
"I see that you weren't overly detained the other evening."
"No reason to be. It was a terrible mistake. They must have me confused with someone else." Miles played dead pan.
"You know what I'm talking about," urged Scott. "The Spook and all that . . ."
"Fuck you!" Miles turned and yelled with hostility. He placed the glass of Glenfiddich on the railing and pointed his forefin- ger in Scott's face. "You're getting what you want, so back the fuck off. Got it?"
Scott's blood pressure joined his fight or flight response in panic. Was this the Mr. Hyde of Miles Foster? Or the real Spook? Had he blown it?
Just then, the sliding glass door from the living room opened and Sonja and Stephanie shivered at the first cool gust of wind. Miles instantly swept Stephanie in his arms and gave her an obscene sounding kiss. His face emerged from the lip melee with no trace of anger, no trace of displeasure. The sinister Miles was magically transformed into Miles the lover.
He had had no chance to respond to Miles' outburst, so Scott was caught with his jaw hung open.
"You boys finish shop yet?" Stephanie said nuzzling at Miles' ear.
"We were just discussing the biographical inconsistencies in the annotated history of Alfred E. Neumann's early years," Miles said convincingly. He glanced over at Scott with a wise cracking dimple filled smile. "We disagree on the exact date of his second bris."
Incredible, thought Scott. The ultimate chameleon.
Gullibility was one of Stephanie's long suits, so Sonja helped out. "That's right up there with the bathing habits of the Jamaican bobsled team."
"C'mon," Stephanie said tugging at Miles. "It's chilly out here."
Dumbfounded, Scott shrugged at Miles when the girls weren't looking. Whatever you want. It's your game. Miles mouthed back at Scott, 'you're fucking right it is.'
The remainder of the evening comprised a little of everything. Except computers. And computer crime. And any political talk that might lead to either of the first two no-nos. They dined elegantly, drank expensive French wine and overindulged in Mar- tel. It was the perfect social evening between four friends.
Chapter 28 Sunday, January 24
New York City Times
HARDWARE VIRUSES: A NEW TWIST By Scott Mason
In conversations with the Spook, the man who claims to be the technical genius behind the Homosoto Invasion, I have learned that there are even more menacing types of computer viruses than those commonly associated with infected software programs. They are hardware viruses; viruses built right into the electronics. The underground computer culture calls the elite designers of hardware viruses Chippers. It should come as no surprise then that Chipping was a practice exploited by Homosoto and his band under the wizardry of the Spook.
Chippers are a very specialized group of what I would have once called hackers, but whom now many refer to as terrorists. They design and build integrated circuits, chips, the brains of toys and computers, to purposefully malfunction. The chips are de- signed to either simply stop working, cause intentional random or persistent errors and even cause physical damage to other elec- tronic circuits.
You ask, is all of this really possible? Yes, it is possible, it is occurring right now, and there is good reason to suspect that huge numbers of electronic VCR's, cameras, microwaves, clock radios and military systems are a disaster waiting to happen.
It takes a great many resources to build a chip millions of dollars in sophisticated test equipment, lasers, clean rooms, electron beam microscopes and dozens of PhD's in dozens of disci- plines to run it all.
According to the Spook, OSO Industries built millions upon millions of integrated circuits that are programmed to fail. He said, "I personally headed up that portion of the engineering design team. The techniques for building and disguising a Trojan Chip were all mine. I originally suggested the idea in jest, saying that if someone really wanted to cause damage, that's what they would do. Homosoto didn't even blink at the cost. Twelve million dollars."
When asked if he knew when the chips would start failing he responded, "I don't know the exact dates because anyone could easily add or change a date or event trigger. But I would guess that based upon timing of the other parts of the plan, seemingly isolated electronic systems will begin to fail in the next few months. But, that's only a guess."
The most damaging types of Trojan Chips are those that already have a lot of room for memory. The Spook described how mostly static RAM, (Random Access Memory) chips and various ROM chips, (Read Only Memory) such as UV-EPROM and EEPROM were used to house the destructive instructions for later release in computer sys- tems.
"It's really simple. There are always thousands of unused gates in every IC. Banks and banks of memory for the taking. Homosoto was no slouch, and he recognized that hardware viruses are the ultimate in underground computer warfare. Even better than the original Trojan Horse. No messy software to worry about, and extensive collateral damage to nearby electronic components. Makes repairs terrifically expensive."
Which chips are to be considered suspect? The Spook was clear.
"Any RAM or ROM chips with the OSO logo and a date code after 1/89 are potentially dangerous. They should be swapped out immediately for new, uninfected components. Also, OSO sold their chips, in die form, to other manufacturers to put their own names on them. I wish I knew to whom, but Homosoto's firm handled all of that."
The Spook also said to beware of any electronic device using OSO labeled or OSO made LS logic chips. Hundreds of millions of the LS logic chips, the so called Glue of electronics, are sold every year. In the electronics world they are considered 'dime-store' parts, selling for a few pennies each. However, in most elec- tronic systems, an inexpensive component failure is just as bad as an expensive component failure. In either case, it stops working.
The Spook continues: "The idea was to build a small timebomb into VCR's, televisions and radios. Not only computers, but alarm systems, cash registers, video games, blowing up all at once. At times it got very funny. Imagine dishwashers spitting up gallons of suds in kitchens everywhere. The ovens will be cook- ing pork tartar and toast a la burnt. What happens when Betty- Jean doesn't trust her appliances any more? The return line at Sears will be a week long."
I asked the Spook how this was possible? How could he inflict such damage without anyone noticing? His answer is as indicting as is his guilt. "No one checks. If the chip passes a few simple tests, it's put into a calculator or a clock or a tele- phone or an airplane. No one expects the chip to be hiding something destructive, so no one looks for it. Not even the military check. They just expect their chips to work in the frozen depths of space and survive a nuclear blast. They don't expect a virus to be lurking."
No matter what one thinks of the nameless, faceless person who hides behind the anonymity of these computerized confessions, one has to agree that the man known as the Spook has awakened this world to many of the dangers that unbridled technical proficiency brings. Have we taken too much liberty without the concomitant responsibility? I know that I find I wish I could run parts of my life in fast forward. Sitting in a movie theater, I feel myself tense as I realize I cannot speed up
the slow parts. Has the infinite flexibility we have given ourselves outpaced social conscience?
Ironically, conversations with the Spook tended to be impersonal; not machine-like, but devoid of concern for people. I asked him if he cared.
"That was not the idea, as far as I know. In a way this was electronic warfare, in the true sense of the word. Collateral damage is unavoidable."
Hardware viruses in addition to software viruses. Is nothing sacred?
* * * * *
Sunday, January 24
Washington, D.C.
"Does he know what he's saying?" Henry Kennedy said doubtfully.
"I think so, and I also think it's a brilliant way to put a huge dent in the Japanese monopoly on integrated circuits." Marvin Jacobs had an office installed not two doors from Kennedy's in the subterranean mazes beneath the White House lawn.
"He can't blame the Japanese for everything."
"Don't you see? He's not? All he's saying is that OSO did it, and he's letting the Japanese national guilt by association take its course." Jacobs seemed pleased. "Mason's chippers will cast a shadow of doubt on everything electronic made in Japan. If it has OSO's name on it, it'll be taboo. Toshiba, Mitsubishi, Matsushita . . .all the big Nippon names will be tarnished for years."
"And you actually want this to happen?" asked Henry.
"I didn't say that," Marvin said slithering away from a policy opinion. "Hey, what are you complaining about? Mason gave us the article like you wanted, didn't he?"
"I told you there were other ways," Kennedy shot back.
"Well, for your information, there's a little more that he didn't tell us about," said Jacobs haughtily.
"And how did you find out? Pray tell?"
Marvin grinned devilishly before answering. "CMR. Van Eck. Whatever. We have Mason covered."
"You're using the same . . ."
"Which is exactly how we're going to fight these bastards."
"At the expense of privacy?"
"There is no clear cut legal status of electromagnetic emanations from computers," Marv said defensively. "Are they private? Are they free to anyone with a receiver, like a radio or TV? No one has tested the theory yet. And that's not to say we've tried to publicize it. The FCC ruled in 1990 that eavesdropping on cellu- lar telephone calls was legal. By anyone, even the government." Marvin was giving a most questionable technical practice an aura of respectability hidden behind the legal guise of freedom. Kennedy was uncomfortable with the situation, but in this case, Marv had the President's ear.
"And screw privacy, right? All in the name of national security." Henry did not approve of Marvin's tactics.
"It's been done before and it'll be done again," Marvin said fairly unconcerned with Kennedy's opinions and whining. "Citing National Security is a great antidote to political inconvenience."
"I don't agree with you, not one iota!" blasted Kennedy. "This is a democracy, and with that comes the good and the bad, and one premise of a democracy is the right to privacy. That's what shredded Nixon. Phone taps, all the time, phone taps."
"Henry, Henry," begged Marv to his old time, but more liberal minded friend. "This is legal." Marvin's almost wicked smile was not contagious. "It's not illegal either."
Kennedy frown deeply. "I think you take the NSA's charter as national listening post to an extreme," he said somberly.
"Henry, Are you going to fight me on this?" Marv asked finally.
"No," sighed Henry Kennedy. "The President gave you the task, I heard him, and I'm here to support his efforts. I don't have to agree . . .but it would help."
* * * * *
"Don't worry. The speech will make him sound like an expert, like he actually knows what he talking about. Not a man who thinks Nintendo is Japanese slang for nincompoop." Phil Musgrave called Henry Kennedy's office in the basement.
Phil joked with Henry about the President's legendary technical ineptness. One time while giving a speech to the VFW, the sound went out. Trying to be helpful, the President succeeded in plugging an 'in' into an 'out' which resulted in a minor amount of smoke, an embarrassing false security alert, and the subse- quent loss of any sound reinforcement at all.
"You know how I feel about him, Phil," said Henry with concern. "I support him 110%. But this is a new area for all of us. We don't have the contingency plans. Defense hasn't spent years studying the problem and working out the options or the various scenarios. Phil, until recently viruses and hackers were consid- ered a non-problem in the big picture."
"I know, Henry, I know, but the politicians had to rely on the experts, and they argued and argued and procrastinated . . ."
"And Congress, as usual, didn't do shit." Kennedy completed the statement. "That doesn't change the fact that he's winging it. Christ, we don't even know the questions much less the answers and, well, we know he calls 911 to change a lightbulb." His affection for the President was clear through the barb. "And you know what really pisses me off?"
"What's that?"
"Jacobs. He seems pleased with the turn of events."
"He should," agreed Phil nonchalantly. "He just won a major battle. He's got security back under his thumb. A nice politi- cal coup."
"No, not that," Henry said cautiously. "It's just that I think he's acting too much the part of the renegade. Do you know what I mean?"
"No, not at all," laughed Phil. "He's just playing it his way, not anyone elses. C'mon, now, you know that."
"I guess . . ."
"Besides, Henry," he said glancing at his watch. "It's getting to be that time." They agreed to watch the speech from the sidelines, so they could see how the President's comments were greeted by the press.
"Ladies and Gentlemen, the President of the United States." An assistant White House press agent made the announcement to the attendant Washington press pool. The video was picked up by the CNN cameras as it was their turn to provide a feed to the other networks. Sunday evening was an odd time to call a press confer- ence, but everyone had a pretty good idea that the subject was going to be computers. Thus far, government comments on the crisis had come from everywhere but the White House.
The President rapidly ambled up to the podium and placed his notes before him. He put on his glasses and stared at the camera somberly. It was speeches that began this way, without a prean- nounced subject matter, that caused most Americans who grew up during the Cold War to experience a sinking feeling in their stomachs. They still thought about the unthinkable. As usual the press corps was rapt with attention.
"Good evening," the President of the United States began slowly. "I am speaking to you tonight on a matter of great concern to us all. A subject of the utmost urgency to which we must address ourselves immediately.
"That subject is, information. The value of information.
"As I am sure most of you are aware, one man, Taki Homosoto, threatened the United States this last week. It is about that very subject that I wish to speak to the country, and the world." The President paused. He had just told the country what he was going to say. Now he had to say it.
"For all practical purposes, the United States is undergoing an electronic Pearl Harbor, and the target is one of the most cru- cial segments of our way of life: Information.
"Information. What is information? Information is news. Infor- mation is a book, or a movie or a television show. Information is a picture, it's a word and it's a gesture. Information is also a thought. A pure idea.
"Information is the single commodity, a common denominator upon which all industrial societies must rely. Data, facts, opinions, pictures, histories, records, charts, numbers. Whether that data is raw in nature, such as names, addresses and phone numbers, or it consists of secret governmental strategies and policies or proprietary business details, information is the key building block upon which modern society functions.
"Information is the lifeblood of the United States and the world.
"As first steam, and then coal and then gas and oil, now informa-
tion has become an integral driving force of the economy. Without information, our systems begin to collapse. How can modern society function without information and the computers that make America what it is? Effectively there are no longer any nationalistic boundaries that governments create. Information has become a global commodity. What would our respective cul- tures look like if information was no longer available?
"We would not be able to predict the weather. Credit cards would be worthless pieces of plastic. We would save less lives without enough information and the means to analyze it. We need massive amounts of information to make informed decisions in government policies and actions.
"What if banks could no longer transfer money because the comput- ers were empty? How could the airlines fly if there were no pas- senger records? What good is an insurance company if its clients names are nowhere on file? If there was no phone book, who could you call? If hospitals had no files on your medical history, what treatment is required? With a little effort, one can imag- ine how difficult it would be to run this planet without informa- tion.
"Information, in short, is both a global and a national strate- gic asset that is currently under attack.
"Information and the information processing industry has come to represent a highly significant piece of our gross national product; indeed, the way we live as Americans, enjoying the highest standard of living in the world, is due in large part to the extraordinary ability of having information at our fingertips in a second's notice. Anything we want in the form of informa- tion can literally be brought into our homes; cable television, direct satellite connections from the back yard. The Library of Congress, and a thousand and one other sources of information are at our fingertips from our living room chair.
"Without information, without the machinery that allows the information to remain available, a veritable national electronic library, the United States steps back thirty years.
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