The apartment building was owned by an overseas investor, as part of a large portfolio of West Coast real estate. A small company in downtown Seattle looked after property management. Dodgson's willingness to pay above the market rate and in advance secured the apartment with no questions asked.
Dodgson could come and go any time of the day or night and go completely unnoticed. No one ever bothered Lewis Dodgson. Hiding in plain sight and moving freely through society's cracks and crevices, he was invisible.
Arriving on the third floor just as the biting winter wind kicked up a notch, Lewis Dodgson hurriedly entered his apartment and slammed the heavy wooden door behind him. The street lighting below reflected off the thick carpet of white snow outside, bathing the apartment in an eery twilight glow. Without pausing to turn on the lights, Dodgson walked through the apartment and past the gleaming stainless steel of his unused kitchen before slowing to a stop in front of an imposing glass-topped desk.
The custom-fitted curved steel and glass of the desk followed the arc of the apartment's bay windows perfectly. Three identical semitransparent glass monitors dominated the space, the left and right screens tilted inward slightly. A slightly tilted glass panel sat under the middle monitor, glowing a faint blue in the dark.
In one swift practiced movement, Dodgson wheeled the ergonomic white plastic and leather chair from under the desk, twisted it, sat down and wheeled back to his desk. Without pausing, Dodgson used his left and right forefingers to trace a series of elaborate curves onto the glass tablet, ending each with a series of quick taps. The monitors immediately sprang to life, each displaying a pure white screen with a single black cursor pulsing in the model. In a well practiced routine, Dodgson again used his fingers - this time to trace different shapes onto each monitor.
A second later, the entire room lit up, filled with the light emanating from three enormous screens. The left and right screens were filled with grids of large and small boxes, each filled with impenetrable code. The middle screen had only two windows. The first contained a complex throbbing 'spiders web' of threads varying in thickness, colour and the speed with which they 'pulsed'. The other window contained a tiled grid of thumbnail pictures, each showing a different comic strip superhero. Most were framed in a glowing green, and two in a glowing red. As Dodgson watched, the two red frames ('Batman' and 'Silver Surfer') changed to green, and the computer's mid-pacific female voice announced "All participants online."
Dodgson smiled, alternately tapped two fingers on the glass tablet, faced the central monitor and said "Start call."
The tiled superhero images shimmered, and in no discernible order the frames changed from green to white and began slowly pulsing. A few seconds later, all tiles were slowly pulsing in unison. All attendees were ready. The meeting of the world's most feared and respected hacker group - 'ANONet' was about to begin.
Later, investigators would pinpoint this as the meeting that started it all. The start of a chain of events that would lead to the greatest peacetime loss of life in human history.
#
Over Denver Colorado (Minus 22 Hours)
Tanaka's personal Gulfstream jet was by any measure, luxurious.
Capable of carrying 30 people in first class comfort, Tanaka had slashed the capacity, replacing the existing first class leather recliner seats with ten enormous fully reclining white leather seats, facing each other in five rows of two. Completing the effect, the far end of the plane housed Tanaka's master suite complete with oversize shower.
Santos and Skinner were ushered into the plane by a beautiful young Japanese hostess, and chose to setup base in the first two seats facing each other as they entered the plane. Clearly a veteran, Hill strode to the farthest two seats, plumped down into the leather and within seconds was back on his cell.
Santos and Skinner were awestruck. The plane had levelled off at 22,000 feet before their whispered guesses about the cost of all the luxury subsided.
Polished teak, thick carpet and rows of subtle insight lighting created a warm and intimate ambience. Running along the left hand side of the cabin was a long, deep white leather couch large enough to comfortably fit six people, and opposite the couch were four large padded white leather chairs, paired to face each other over a shiny teak coffee table. At the far end of the cabin Skinner noticed the gleaming polished timber door leading into Tanaka's private room.
After a moment's pause in the conversation, Skinner jumped forward, surprising Santos and causing her to spill wine over the table separating the two chairs.
"Sorry Eva - I didn't mean to scare you like that, but I've just remembered something I'd like your thoughts on."
Before Santos could reply, one of the four air stewards whisked in, cleaned the spill and passed a white cotton napkin and a fresh glass of wine. Santos smiled at the steward, and as he moved away beamed at Skinner. "And that's why I only ever travel this way. Now - what did you want to talk about?"
Skinner's whispered voice took on a steely edge. "On the way to the airport I had a call from an old friend of mine in Santa Clara. A detective that I worked with two years ago. He was asking for my help on a very unusual murder in Palo Alto."
Santos gently placed her glass of wine down on the coffee table and nodded "Go on."
Skinner relayed most of his conversation with Detective Steve Clark. He then rolled out his flexible tablet computer onto the table separating them and turned the tablet to the side so they could both see. He swiped the screen and then flicked through the forensic report, crime scene pictures and the video of the attack recovered from Sandra Brennan's phone.
Santos reacted calmly to the material, dispassionately. The initial jolt of horror quickly replaced with professional curiosity. After a few short questions to clarify some details, Santos picked up the computer and began silently reading and reviewing all the material. Skinner leaned back in the thick padded leather and waited.
Absently Skinner watched as Hill continued to whisper urgently into his cell phone. Extra soundproofing and carefully designed 'white noise' sound system created a feeling of library-like silence in the cabin, and as such Skinner could still hear the faint hum of Hill's conversation despite the distance between them. Skinner could see the tension in Hill as he lowered the phone from his ear and slumped back into his chair. He looked like he carried the weight of the world on his shoulders. I guess that's what the prospect of making - or losing - billions of dollars can do, Skinner mused.
A few minutes later, Santos rolled up the computer and handed it back to Skinner. Santos locked her gaze on Skinner and in a low firm voice said "Ben, none of this makes sense. Attacks of this ferocity are very rare, and almost always psychotic incidents. Drugs are pretty much always involved - and before it gets to this level there's been earlier signs. And finally, it's not what stable 13-year old straight A-girls do!"
Before Skinner could respond, a voice behind Santos chimed in. "Where exactly did this attack happen Dr Santos?"
Surprised, Santos head swivelled to her right to find the source while Skinner looked up with a start. Hill stood behind Santos, a look of concern on his face. Skinner wondered how much of the conversation he'd heard - from the look on his face he certainly seemed to understand the savage nature of the murder.
Santos looked at the pale young lawyer. He didn't look good. Before she could reply, Skinner leaned forward.
"I'm sorry Alex, but I'm afraid neither Dr Santos or I can talk about this. There's an ongoing investigation, that's all I can tell you."
As he spoke, Skinner watched Hill closely, and saw the frustration briefly sweep across the lawyer's face before he gathered himself and cordially replied, "Yes, yes of course. Doctor - Professor. Please forgive me. Idle curiosity got the better of me I'm afraid."
Without waiting for a response, Hill turned and walked back to his seat.
Santos leaned over the table, gesturing for Skinner to move closer until Skinner could feel Santos' breath against his face. Santos
whispered, "So Ben ... what in the hell was that all about?"
#
Midnight, Seattle Washington (Minus 22 Hours)
"Hi everyone and welcome, wherever you are and whoever you are"
Lewis Dodgson spoke with the practiced authority of a man in control. He'd been contacted by ANONet less than two years ago, and in that time had demonstrated time and again to be the very best in a group of brilliant software engineers. Dodgson's unruffled determination and complete conviction in the cause saw the others defer to him. Although it was never said, Dodgson was now considered the group's leader, and the man driving their last, big strike against oppression.
Quickly and efficiently, eleven digitally manipulated voices responded to Dodgson's welcome. There was no small talk. The group understood the need to keep these conversations as brief and to the point as possible. Although extremely sophisticated software hid their tracks, no one underestimated the capabilities of the National Security Agency.
Dodgson continued.
"iSight 2 is a massive multiplayer online game built and operated by WhiteStar Corporation. The current version has well over one billion active players - it's the biggest online game in the world. In one week's time, WhiteStar will release the next version - iSight 3. This latest version is a huge jump forward - the software and hardware are way ahead of anything else out there. iSight3 also tracks every single action and worms its way across every players personal social network. It weaves paid corporate brands into the gaming experience without the player ever realising and, worst of all, all this information is then sold to any advertiser willing to pay. Internal documents show WhiteStar are predicting the new game will attract over two billion users. That's pretty much a third of the planet hooked on this game! One in three people worldwide that WhiteStar will know everything about. In short, iSight 3 is the largest assault on individual privacy any company has ever mounted. We must do everything possible to prevent it succeeding.
That's the bad news. The good news, as you are all aware, is that WhiteStar has built in elements of Hartec's security software into almost every area of the new game. And that means we have a way in. I know - because I'm the one that built it!"
A ripple of digitised laughter greeted Dodgson's aside.
He continued. "Thanks to the efforts of this group, we have established a reliable way of accessing and modifying the iSight 3 code. In the last few weeks, a few of us have been running small tests in different WhiteStar testing labs around the world, altering game scenarios and virtual personalities. All of these tests have gone undetected. Therefore, having run several small, successful test attacks over the last month, I'd like to formally ask the group to make the last decision we will ever face as AnoNET. As always, we will only proceed if the decision of the group is unanimous. Does everyone understand?"
Once again, Dodgson was answered by eleven altered voices repeating "Understood."
Adrenalin surged through Dodgson's bone-tired body. After eighteen long, hard months of meticulous planning, endless all-night coding sessions, triumphs and disasters, they were ready.
He was ready.
Looking out of the big bay windows behind the monitors and into the dark winters night, the thick snow falling fast, causing the yellow street lights to flicker, he smiled to himself. This is it. No one will see this coming, he thought as the low hum from the student bar next door drifted into the room.
Lewis Dodgson and this small team of freedom fighters would strike out at WhiteStar Corporation, shredding its entertainment facade to reveal its real purpose - an unending, insatiable trawl for personal information. WhiteStar Corporation had the world playing a game. And while they played, WhiteStar gorged on the seemingly inane likes and dislikes, simple choices, small conversations and decisions every iSight player made. Looked at in isolation, this all seemed so trivial. But over time, all these small clues built a profile more accurate than any other. WhiteStar knew where every player lived, who their friends, colleagues and family were, what their personal preferences were, where and when they worked, and where and when they relaxed. WhiteStar knew the choices a player would make - and how those decisions changed depending on the circumstances. They knew every players aspirations and fears, secrets and sins.
WhiteStar knew everything.
Faceless forces had conspired to protect his father's killers. They had driven his mother out of her home and to her death. Dodgson understood only too well the danger in an organisation like WhiteStar holding the information.
And he knew how to stop them.
Snapping back to the monitor, Dodgson leaned forward and stared intently at the tiled thumbnail superheroes on his screen. "Ok then, in that case I ask that you all vote on the following question."
Dodgson paused.
"Should we proceed with the full-scale corruption and public release of iSight 3?"
Dodgson paused again and slowly breathed in to try calming his pounding heart before continuing.
"I'd ask everyone to cast their final vote now please."
Dodgson's fingers briefly flickered over the tablet, and a simple two-column graph appeared. The 'No' column didn't move, within seconds the 'Yes' column jumped from zero to four, seven, nine, ten, eleven - then twelve votes.
Above the graph, a simple strip of words appeared. "Voting complete."
Dodgson cleared his throat, and took a deep breath to clear any hint of excitement from his voice.
"Ok - it's unanimous. The last act of ANONet will strike at the heart of WhiteStar Corp in Sapporo Japan. We'll hit them during the next scheduled security update. Which means we have..." Dodgson quickly checked his monitor, "twenty one hours to get everything lined up. There's a lot to do, so I suggest everyone gets some rest then prepares for a very long day tomorrow."
#
3am Wednesday, Seattle Washington (Minus 19 Hours)
The Gulfstream G550 rolled to a gentle stop inside the cavernous whitewashed aircraft hanger on the outskirts of Seattle Airport. The winter wind howled outside, and wet flakes of sleet danced and swirled over the black tarmac. The two enormous soundproofed steel doors began closing, and a moment later the sounds of winter were replaced by silence.
The gleaming jet's door lowered to reveal a set of stairs, and almost immediately a handsome young man in WhiteStar Corporation blazer walked down the stairs, onto the polished concrete floor. At the same time, a solid-looking steel door in the wall of the aircraft hanger and parallel to the plane's staircase opened. Four figures appeared, and quickly walked toward the aircraft - the first two deep in animated conversation, the other two in silence.
Inside the aircraft, Santos, Skinner and Hill sat in the deep leather chairs and watched as the group neared. Santos recognised the first two men instantly - the slim Asian man leading the conversation was Kaito Tanaka. He was short - Santos estimated 5.6 or maybe 5.7' - but his exuberance and the sheer force of his character seemed to make him larger somehow. Tanaka's slicked back black hair, moustache, goatee and leathery brown skin were instantly recognisable. His expensive black Armani suit, black silk shirt and polished black patent leather Italian shoes completed the look. Santos felt Tanaka overdid the 'man in black' look, and in their last trip together she'd told him so. Tanaka had smiled graciously, and explained that it was the way the world expected him to look - that the way he presented himself was part of the iSight brand.
As Tanaka drew closer to the jet, Santos silently groaned as she recognised the man he was talking to as Andy Harper. To many women, the handsome, rich bachelor CEO of software security company Hartec would be considered quite a catch. Santos had a very different opinion. Harper had joined Skinner and Santos on several WhiteStar trips previously and without fail he would hit on her. The first few times she'd turned him down, Harper had seemed genuinely baffled - as if it didn't make sense for any woman to reject him − and would then wave it away as some flaw in Santos' judgement. However, recently Santos sensed the tone had shifted. Harper would stand
a little too close to her as he talked, leaning his 6.3' frame over the diminutive psychologist. When Santos expressed any opinion, Harper would make a show of appearing unimpressed while leering at her at every possibility.
The Sapporo Outbreak Page 7