The Bear's Tears kaaph-4

by Craig Thomas

  Godwin dropped his body into the chair opposite Hyde. Breath emerged, strangled and painful. Godwin plunged on, undeterred by the massive interruption of seating himself.

  "First," he offered, marking the point on the index finger of his right hand, "he had to subvert an expert of near-genius — a programmer who was exceptionally smart. Before that, he had to see the possibility! He had to be really far-sighted when he served on that committee… to see the chance and take it. Clever…" Godwin was wistful for opportunity for a moment, then continued: "Petrunin had to alter the original database, when the central records computer was first fully programmed — back when they started computerising their entire records system. Even then he was watching his back — and aware of the best, most up-to-date way of doing it…"

  Godwin's face was flushed with insight, more than with the thin wine they had drunk with their pork. His eyes were inward-looking, staring after a figure following a road he could not take. Hyde realised how thwarted Godwin was by his crippled legs. Perhaps Aubrey had done him no good turn, keeping him inside the service—? A big computer firm might have satisfied his ambitions much more completely.

  Godwin cleared his throat, and said, "Teleprocessing showed him the ease with which he could store information under Moscow Centre's inquisitive long nose and be perfectly safe. And the method of computer access — through landlines — suggested how easy it would be to recover the information he'd stored, from any terminal in any Soviet embassy or consulate or mission, in any emergency. He'd need no more than a few minutes with a remote terminal keyboard and his special passwords. He could go straight to the stuff he'd stored, just like that—" Godwin clicked his fingers. His eyes studied the ceiling. The cat hunched its back towards the one radiator. Hyde got up and passed Godwin's chair towards the kitchen. Godwin seemed almost relieved. Immediately, in a raised voice, he began talking over the noises of coffee cups and pouring liquid.

  "He must have altered the schema of the database — just in case someone stumbled onto his material by the purest fluke… when you dial up his doctored file, you get almost the same thing, except that the normal channels to the personnel records have been bypassed and you're really getting the prologue to all the dirt he's stored away."

  "Sugar?" Hyde asked.

  "No. But, when they sent him to Afghanistan as persona non grata, he must have added a low-level patch to the compiler…" Hyde handed him his cup. "Thanks." Godwin appeared relaxed. He had adopted the momentum and the confidence of his monologue. Here, he was the expert, the fit man.

  Hyde regained his seat. "He must have killed the poor bastard who assisted him straight afterwards — or could he have added this — this patch?" Godwin nodded. "After he'd killed the programmer?"

  "He might have been able to. He'd have had to study manuals and dumps of the application programmes to find a way of bypassing the computer's security… what I think he's done, from your description, is to add a patch to the compiler which translates the password routine in the database management system. This would have the effect of adding an extra line to the normal password routine in the machine code version. I'll show you later. It would have been easier for him, since he wouldn't have had much time after they decided to send him to Kabul, if the programmer was still alive."

  "Perhaps he anticipated disgrace, along with everything else?"

  "He was that clever?"

  "He was."

  Godwin shifted painfully in his chair.

  Hyde stood up and went into the kitchen and placed his cup in the crowded sink. Then said, "You have to teach me, Godwin. Everything I need to know."

  Godwin called, "How much do you know about Open Weave?"

  "Nothing."

  "Shelley told you nothing?"

  "No."

  Godwin's anger was quashed. Hyde raised his face to the kitchen ceiling and held back the sigh of relief that threatened to escape from his chest. Godwin was hooked. When he walked into the lounge, Godwin's face greeted him eagerly, almost wanton with excitement.

  "Tell me about it," Hyde said.

  "Later. It's just a way of tapping into the landline that links the computer room here to Moscow Centre."

  "What—?" Hyde began, hardly needing to act surprise.

  "Later," Godwin repeated with affected modesty. "It'll help get you into the computer room in the Hradcany as a system tester. We'll set up a fault on the landline… later. I'll keep you in suspense for a bit." He grinned. Godwin's face was animated with something akin to triumph; the face of an eminent actor, assured of the applause that would greet his entry from the wings.

  Hyde smiled. "OK. Keep me in suspense, then."

  "You sure you wouldn't like a little lie-down before we begin?" Godwin asked jokingly. "This is going to take the rest of the night. Are you sure you're ready?"

  "When you are. My cover's as a system tester. Who or what gets me inside the Hradcany?"

  Godwin waved the question aside. "That's taken care of. You'll be helped in — and concealed."

  "OK. I'm inside."

  "They'll be expecting you. That's the beauty of it. They'll want a system tester. Not a technician, you understand, just someone with a high security clearance. From the Soviet Embassy. Your clearance will be higher than that of most of the people you'll run into. They'll be wary of you."

  "Why do they want this — system tester?"

  "The fault on the landline. It'll be such that they'll have to check that their data-files taken from remote terminals aren't at fault — been corrupted or damaged. They'll be worried — they'll need you to check responses from Moscow to requests you make in sensitive areas… OK?"

  "OK."

  "So — you're in the main computer room. With guaranteed use of one of the remote terminals — keyboard, printer, back-up peripherals… everything."

  "You're pretty sure of this—"

  "I am sure, mate — bloody sure! You're using the best stuff I've got — people, ideas, cover. I'm giving you everything."

  "OK."

  "The computer terminals in the Hradcany are standard stuff — they use a pirated version of IBM's CICS system — Customer Information Control Systems, that means. The terminal is permanently linked to Moscow Centre and the computer is continually asking for its services to be used. It's called polling. All you'll need — apart from enough time to yourself — is Petrunin's passwords when the computer asks you for them."

  "Why do I need to be a system tester?"

  "Because that way—" The cat had moved, and was rubbing against Godwin's legs. As if his excitement had animated his senseless shins, Godwin looked down, smiled, and lifted the cat onto his lap. It padded as if shaping his lap like a pillow, and then settled itself. Godwin's large hand stroked methodically, firmly along the cat's back. " — that way you can get into the personnel records. Education, military, criminal, anything you like, while checking that the landline, the modems and scramblers have not affected the data or the data transfer. If that's happened, they'd need to use back-up to restore the files. You can be there for — perhaps three or four hours, all night if the job takes that long… and no one, no one at all, will be asking you to leave or asking you what you think you're up to! Can't you see what a gift it is?"

  Three hours—

  Hyde nodded. Godwin's scenario was daring and brilliant, and too dangerous.

  But unavoidable, Hyde concluded, suppressing his rising fears. Too late. But, Christ—

  "Good." Godwin said. "I'm glad you approve. Your Russian will hold up, I suppose?"

  "Probably. But not my Czech."

  "You're Russian, not Czech."

  "OK, I'm Russian."

  "You're afraid, Hyde."

  "No—"

  "You don't like it — you don't think it'll work."

  "It's not that—"

  "It is, Hyde. Just sit and listen. I've thought of everything. I promise you — everything."

  "OK. Tell me."

  "Because they'll be expecting yo
u. Their tame post office engineer will call the embassy for a system tester when he's finished checking the landline — when the temporary fault's disappeared."

  "So, I turn up and the real one's right behind me."

  "You're already on the premises… appear in the computer room before he finishes work and calls the embassy. The embassy will already know all about the fault on the landline, but they'll wait until the engineer reports before sending the system tester. You forestall that, and just take over when he finishes."

  "And the fault — it just disappears?"

  "It will — believe me. We set that up tomorrow morning. You go in during the afternoon. The fault actually occurs about eight or nine. The engineer won't finish before eleven — you should be out of there by twelve. And on your way home."

  "Who's the post office engineer?"

  "He's genuine. Has to be. But he expects you, remember. A Russian system tester. Only you will make you suspicious — if you can't act the part well enough."

  "I need written proof."

  "No cameras. Too risky, snapping away at the screen. The hard copy coming out of the printer will be too bulky. You'll use the recorder that's already wired in. They call it a streamer tape drive. Think of it as a cassette recorder. You switch on and it's just like recording a movie on TV!" He grinned. Almost boyish, for the first time that evening. Godwin as Hyde had previously encountered him. A man of promise and good nature. "Guest can play it back in the comfort of the Cabinet Office with no trouble at all. Most of the Czech equipment was made by ICL, or IBM under another label, anyway! Government contract some years ago."

  "OK. And when I've finished, I just walk out again the way I came in?"

  "Yes. Just walk out. You'll pronounce your tests complete, sign a few forms, and pack your bag and go."

  "And if I blow it?"

  "You'll shoot your way out, I should imagine, with your usual subtlety."

  "It's as easy as that?"

  Godwin nodded. "Computer security needs a genius to set up — and a crooked moron in possession of one or two vital passwords to break down. Even you can do it, Hyde." He rubbed his chin. "You'll need luck. What Petrunin was about to tell you — the moment he passed on to the great Centre in the sky — was a shortcut to Teardrop. We don't know what that was. You'll have to sit through everything that comes out of his secret file until you hit the right stuff."

  "How long?"

  "Can't be too long. Petrunin would have thought of that — he might have needed the stuff himself in something of a hurry. He might have been like you — somewhere he shouldn't have been, accessing a security computer's records." Again, Godwin grinned.

  Hyde nodded. "I don't have any choice, anyway." He stood up. "All right — show me what to expect on the screen, then tell me what a system tester does and how he does it." He held out his hand to Godwin, who moved his own hand forward. Disturbed by the movement, the cat leapt lightly from his lap. Hyde gripped Godwin's hand and felt the hard skin on the palm; a badge of long service with his crutch. He pulled Godwin from the armchair and handed him the crutches. Godwin stumped heavily towards the table and the computer that rested on it.

  "Come here," he said. "Come on. I've got it ready for you." Hyde followed him. "Sit down, sit down—" He was impatiently instructed. "Now, on the screen you've got the—" He tapped at the keyboard. A list unrolled on the small screen in luminous green letters. " — the usual Menu. That's what you'll see on the terminal in the Hradcany — on all of them. Waiting for you to request something… That's where you use the first password."

  Godwin leaned over Hyde's shoulder, his thick finger pointing almost with accusation at the screen. His breathing was stetorious. Hot against Hyde's cheek. "See here — from everything we know about the way the Central Records computer works, this Menu is accurate. Everything's stored in a database, and material is accessed by choosing one of these items from the Menu — Personal Records, Military, Education, Criminal, Career Details, and so on."

  "Criminal?"

  "Every scrap of information on everyone, anyone and everyone who's ever had anything to do with the KGB — or the MVD and the NKVD, even as far back as OGPU, if they had the records — is in the database. Millions and millions of items of information… all there, waiting to be accessed even by an idiot like you. Dissidents, psychopaths, thieves and murderers — and that's just the enlisted personnel—" Godwin chuckled.

  "OK — how do I find what I want?"

  Godwin tapped at the keyboard. The screen requested more information from him. He typed once more. The screen cleared and then a graphic display appeared. What was it like? A family tree, Hyde decided.

  "There," Godwin said with studied nonchalance, straightening up on his crutches. "That's something like the schema they'd have. See, this is the driver, as it were, that controls the database represented by this top box here." It was labelled System. Lines connected it with other boxes below. More lines connected the second, third and fourth rows of boxes, to the System and to each other. The box below System was marked Name Identification, below that three boxes labelled Assignment History, Education History and Personal Background. Near the bottom of the screen, below perhaps another half-dozen boxes, all labelled, were two which remained blank. "Clear?"

  "Yes. What about these?"

  "I can label these now, from what you've told me. Let's call them—" He tapped in his instructions. "Teardrop and — oh, Dirt, mm?" The words appeared in their boxes after a few moments. "This is a simplified model — there are hundreds, thousands of these boxes of information in the schema for Personnel Files."

  "What do the connections mean — they're numbered, why?"

  "They mark the sets, the pathways whereby you retrieve the information. These two boxes, the ones Petrunin added secretly, are linked only to each other and to his Assignment History — see? That's how I imagine he did it. Once you've requested information on Tamas Petrunin and given the correct code to access the information, you'll have to provide the legitimate password, just to prove you're kosher. Then you ask for his assignment history, and so on… if you are kosher. But, since it's you, when you access his assignments you'll use his password, those postings in reverse order — and this calls up a completely different access programme, and your request will follow this route…" His forefinger traced the line from the System box to Name Indentification, then to Assignment History, then to the box he had labelled Teardrop. "Except," he said heavily, "you'll have the password to Dirt, which you'll have to run all the way through before you can get to Teardrop. From what Petrunin was about to tell you, I'm sure he had shortcut passwords to each part of his secret files, but you'll have to access the lot to make sure you find Teardrop. OK?"

  Hyde nodded. "OK." He felt a tremor in his hands, and pressed them between his thighs, thrusting them out of sight. "How long could it take?"

  "Depends. On how much he had stored and whether he's been adding to it over the past few years. Minutes, perhaps."

  "All displayed on the screen or coming out of the printer?"

  "Yes."

  "I might have to be alone for—"

  "Ten minutes. You don't know how to go to Teardrop direct — only through all the other dirt he stored away."

  "A real Chance card — go directly to jail, do not pass Go," Hyde murmured.

  "It's the safest way."

  "I think," Hyde began, looking up at Godwin, "that bastard Petrunin might have the last laugh — don't you? He could kill me yet. And the bugger's been dead for days already!"

  Godwin said nothing except: "Let's do a test run on accessing the computer, shall we? I've set it up for that."

  Hyde looked down at the keyboard of the small computer. Godwin had patiently stuck small pieces of address label on each of the letter and function keys. On each, the letters of the Cyrillic alphabet had been inscribed. Russian words now indicated the functions of the computer. He had made Hyde practice over and over, before their meal and while he noisily prep
ared it, in order to become familiar with the Cyrillic keyboard he would meet in the Hradcany. Now, Hyde stared at it in profound mistrust as Godwin cancelled his graphic and reinstated the Menu on the screen. Thanks to Godwin, he could cope with the jargon, with the tasks he would be set to access the information he sought. But he did not think he could cope with the situation, its danger and isolation.

  He would be too alone, too exposed for too long… passing time was a series of tripwires. It was going to take too long, too long—"Ready?" Godwin asked. "Then begin."

  * * *

  The moment she saw him, still seated at his desk, the telephone now replaced on its rest, Margaret quailed at the prospect of deceiving Babbington. The room was warm against her cheeks, flushing them with the colour of confession and guilt. The guards still held her arms, and the dog scrabbled on the wooden floor of the corridor behind her. Restrained by its choke-chain, its breathing was loud and threatening. Babbington was smiling broadly.

  Her lies were pale and unsubstantial now. Babbington knew everything and would not be persuaded of her innocence.

  "Margaret — my dear Margaret!" he said, rising. One of his hands signalled her release. Her arms fell numbly to her sides. Was there hope—? No. The tone was mocking, confident. Babbington came towards her, hands held out. Her body flinched from his embrace. "Margaret—?" His eyes hardened as he studied her face. Then he turned from her and said, "You've caused me a lot of concern, Margaret — a great deal of pointless worry." The mockery of a stern parent's voice.

  "Andrew—!" she blurted, her body trembling as if the hot room was cold.

  He turned on his heel. "Yes?"

  He made another gesture with his right hand, and she heard the door close behind her. Even through the wood, she could hear the reluctant slither of the dog's heavy paws as it was tugged away down the corridor. It barked once as if to remind her of her danger.