Come on lighting, just a little lightning.
A single flash, then a double one on his left illuminated the sky. There was a loud clap of thunder, then silence, except for the growl of the 45Ø engine. Jasinski tapped him on the head excitedly.
Bye, bye eyes-in-the-sky!
The helicopters peeled off their pursuit, heading in the opposite direction to the oncoming storm. Mick immediately stopped the motorbike, shut off the engine to listen. Jasinski hopped off the back, jumping around like a kid.
“Yes! Yes! Take that! Woot!” she shouted, punching her fist in the air. Mick could see her smile in the gap between the helmet and goggles. He also got off and did a few quick stretches, then opened the backpack Jasinski had been wearing and pulled out a small aerosol can. He sprayed down Jasinski’s clothes and helmet, then he started spraying down the bike.
“What for?” Jasinski asked with a quizzical look on her face.
“’Smart dust.’ Near microscopic trackers attached to our clothes or motorcycle. Trackable using RFID or radio. This conductive spray should neutralize them,” Mick replied, finishing off the bike. “There was ample opportunity to drop them on us from the helicopter.”
“Oh,” she replied.
He continued on the front of his clothes, then gave the can to Jasinski who continued on his back and sides. The bad-smelling liquid made it almost impossible to breathe for a moment, but then quickly dispersed.
He looked at Jasinski for a moment, who came towards him and impulsively hugged him. They bumped helmets awkwardly. Then she let go and he turned away and straddled the bike again. A moment later, they roared off towards the fork in the road, heading into the darkening storm.
What was that all about?
For the next two hours, Mick picked his way carefully through the trail in the height of the storm. He switched on the headlight, but turned it off again as all it did was illuminate the huge rain drops. Everything was slippery. They took a spill, the front wheel washing out in a deep rut, and they went down in a low-side. Jasinski was stunned, but seemed unhurt. Mud was everywhere, covering everything.
“You OK?” he asked, and she nodded and gave him two thumbs up.
He lifted up the bike and they continued.
It was nearly dark when they stopped for the night, just a few hundred meters into the woods from a paved road. Inside a thick grove of pine trees, Mick pitched their tent. The rain had nearly stopped. The tent was tiny and cramped, but the sleeping bags were dry. They took off an outer layer and wriggled into the bags in their under clothes.
The next day, they changed clothing again and rode the motorbike up to the road to where they had parked their rental car under netting. They left the motorbike in a ditch, noting the coordinates for later. Once they were safely away, Mick planned to contact a local charity to donate it—unless the General had already confiscated it. Hopefully his work filing off the VIN number of the motorcycle frame would make it difficult for the authorities to trace.
As they drove south, the weather warmed up, and the cornfields and mountains gave way to the plains, which gave way to deserts. In Arizona, they felt safe enough to stop at a motel, where they showered and relaxed and finally talked.
“So did we get anything?” Mick asked. “I didn’t read anything particularly useful. Was the Russian text just the un-translated source?”
“Yes, it was. So I concentrated on reading it and memorizing it. And I found something! There was a mistake in the translation of one of his aliases in one of the documents. This country is so English-centric that even their interpreters don’t do a good job. Do you think it is safe to search for it?” she asked.
“Yes, wait for me to switch out the IPs in my VPN server and get Tor up and running.” Mick replied. A few moments later, Jasinski searched for the alias and found an anime site that seemed promising. A few more searches, and she let out a whoop.
“I found a profile of a member who I believe is No-viz,” she said, turning to him.
“Awesome! You are amazing, Jaz!” Mick replied. She grinned back.
I am so glad this woman is on my side.
“His alias has posted on a bunch of forums including 4chan.” Mick rolled his eyes. “I know, but sometimes one can find out useful facts about someone by their postings on forums such as this. I think I can engage with him on these forums and track him down.”
“Even more awesome!”
“For instance, he seems to be a big fan of ‘Bubble Gum Apocalypse Nightly’, an anime show.”
“Never heard of it.”
“Not surprising. I never took you for the Otaku type,” she replied, giving him an appraising look. “It is a manga series that ran a few years ago. I’d say our NØviz is quite a youngster.”
“Ha! This from a twenty-three-year-old?”
“So you did look at my passport!”
“Um, so what is next?”
“Time to watch some manga. Wanna join me?”
Mick dozed intermittently as Jasinski continued her research. The high-pitched Japanese girl voices gave him a headache, and the plot seemed contrived and shallow. But Jasinski kept watching, and made short notes, and went back-and-forth between several videos, and commentaries. At one point, Mick noticed her perusing a forum full of kanji.
“You can read Japanese?” he asked.
“A little—enough to get by in a pinch.”
“Find anything?”
“Yes, I believe so. Are you sitting down?” she asked. He glared at her, as he was still horizontal on the opposite bed in the motel room. “I’ve found him for sure.”
“No joke, right?” he replied, hoping she wasn’t.
“Nope. I’ve been trolling various forums on BGAN, which is short for Bubble Gum Apocalypse Nightly. I’ve been arguing with anyone who will argue with me about the show. One dude, who goes by the handle ‘хплоитР’ really argued with me. He feels very strongly that the arguing between Mopi and Sefa is symbolic of the arguments between socialism and capitalism.”
“Wait—isn’t that—”
“Yep, that’s what the snippet from the General’s database was about!”
“Fantastic! Can you direct message хплоитР on this forum?”
“Yes, I’ve been slowly coming around to his point of view, so a direct exchange wouldn’t be unnatural. Especially, if I let slip that I am a girl.”
“I guess you always pretend to be a boy online.”
“You have no fricking idea, do you?” Jasinski replied, shaking her head.
I wonder if Sam’s online experience will be like Jaz’s?
“Anyway, what do you want me to say?”
“Don’t care, but I want you to include a special link.”
“An exploit?”
“No, that’d never work, unless we had the wrong guy. No, this link resolves to a virtual machine I’ll setup to record the IP address of visitors.”
“You’re counting on him not using an anonymization proxy?”
“Yep, for something like BGAN, I’m hoping he doesn’t. Worth a try.”
The evening passed nervously for them as they waited to see if NØviz would wake up and follow the link. While it seemed a long shot, Mick had some confidence it would work. He killed time perusing old online XKCD comics.
Just after midnight, Mick received a message with an IP address.
“Got it!” he shouted to Jasinski, who leapt onto the bed beside him.
“And?”
“It resolves to CZ—Praha!”
“Prague? Really?”
“Yep, now we just need to confirm in some other exchanges, just to make sure he isn’t using a random proxy. You think you can get him to bite again?”
“Yep! Is Praha likely?” she asked.
“It is definitely possible. Lots of Russians travel there, some locals even speak Russian. And the beer is cheap and good. I can definitely see how a Russian might want to live there.”
“More flying.”
“Yes, more flying. We should be able to get flights from Mexico through Cuba. It is risky, but I don’t see any other choice. Although in the past I’ve taken a slower route to Europe.”
“Slower doesn’t sound good. I just want to get there as quickly as possible,” Jasinski replied.
“Me too.”
Their trip to the Czech Republic was uneventful, except for the border crossing into Mexico.
Mick had never seen the border wall before, and made quite an impression on him. For some reason, it reminded him of security firewalls, and how nearly everyone over-relied on their protection. But once a firewall was breeched, as he had done to the General’s, everything behind them was no longer protected.
The border wall near Yuma was far from complete, and every wall builder knew that completing a wall was essential for it to provide real security. For now, though, the wall in Arizona was just a reminder of the parts of the border with no wall at all.
Chapter E.
From the Privacy and Other Mirages Blog:
Do you have any advice for a whistleblower? I’m thinking of sending some info to the press about something that the public needs to know about.
Being a whistleblower is a big deal! I admire your courage and determination! Since you are asking me the question on this blog, I’ll discuss the aspects of keeping your identity as a whistleblower private.
We are all aware of the dangers of handwriting giving away our identity, or the ability of an investigator to determine if a letter was typed on a particular typewriter. The same is true for digital documents as well. Many pieces of software can leak your identity. For example, common word processing, spreadsheet, and presentation software records the MAC addresses of your computer when you create or edit a document. As a result, a document can be tracked back to a particular computer. Don’t forget that some cameras will encode geographic coordinates in every photo that is taken.
I’d advise only leaking documents in plain text. If you must use another format, there are open-source applications that can remove the meta data information from the file.
Placing anonymous phone calls is also tricky. Don’t ever rely on Caller ID blocking (*67 on some phones) as it only hides your identity from some called parties. For example, if you call a toll free number, the dialed party always get Caller ID. Instead, use a payphone or a calling card. This makes the call much more difficult to trace.
You could also use a pre-paid mobile phone, purchased with cash, provided you activate it with fictitious information. Also, be careful where you have the phone turned on. Whenever the phone is turned on, your location is being logged, so don’t use it from your home or office but in some public place that doesn’t give away your location. And dispose of the phone afterwards so it isn’t in your possession.
If you are planning to leak documents, I’d recommend using a reputable leak site. Some of them are pretty sophisticated about privacy. Once your material is uploaded there, then you can reach out anonymously to a journalist.
Good luck to you!
Chapter F.
The General looked over the screenful of information on NØviz. He couldn’t see anything particularly useful to help in tracking down the hacker. He wondered why O’Malley was so intent on finding him. It would, of course, be useful to know all about the exploit, but surely having the botnet was enough.
A grin played across his face as he realized the answer—O’Malley isn’t in control of the botnet anymore—NØviz is! The General smiled to himself, again confirming the adage that in intelligence, the questions asked by an enemy can provide even more information than answers.
Chapter 1Ø.
Ja2 Today’s #seti #hack is #epic! When someone is looking for a needle in a haystack, replacing all the hay with needles is brilliant! #funny #etdidntphonehome #nevertrustanyone
Mick was nervous—more nervous than he had been in a long, long time. They were about to meet NØviz.
After making contact, Jasinski had worked steadily to build her relationship so that he would agree to a meeting. She finally let him know she was a woman and lived in Praha as well, and soon a meeting was set.
They had both awoken early, and dressed without showers or fuss. It was odd how quickly they had both adapted to a life on the run. His life felt like a series of disconnected events, without even dotted lines between them, virtual islands of consciousness.
How did I get here, exactly?
On this beautiful late spring morning, he was awaking in a bed and breakfast with a gorgeous woman younger than himself. They shared a bed, but it was no longer remarkable, and certainly not awkward. They acted like siblings, although he suspected those weren’t his true feelings. They had never talked about the hug after riding together in Montana.
Jasinski also seemed more nervous than usual. They both knew there was a lot on the line in this meeting. Frankly, his expectations were low, but he still had hope.
It had been a number of years since he last visited Praha, but it seemed to never change. Sure, there were more restaurants and shops, but that was just noise—the city had a timeless aura that he really liked.
Since they were early for the meeting with NØviz, they walked down Vyšehradská to kill time. Trams rattled by as small cars came and went. Something caught Mick’s eye in a shop window, so they paused. The sign said ‘Old Radio Hobby Elektro Bazar Integra.’ The sight of rows and rows of old radios and components captivated Mick’s attention. While Jasinski looked on slightly bemused, Mick cataloged and identified each piece of equipment. He spotted a particular model of oscilloscope that he had read about but never seen in person. Unfortunately, the shop was closed, but he noted the coordinates in his mobile for another time. He looked up at Jasinski who was watching him.
“How long have we been standing here?” he asked.
“Ha! I’m not telling. Anyway, I am used to geeks like you,” she replied.
“Sorry about that,” he replied.
“Don’t be sorry. Why are you always sorry about everything? You are who you are, end of story,” she scolded him. He looked at her closely to see if she really meant it or if there was some animosity, but he saw none.
“We still have tons of time. There’s an old monastery just down the street—I’ve always wanted to visit. Shall we?”
“Sure!” Jasinski replied, and they set off.
The Emmaus Roman Catholic monastery was an imposing sight from the street. The weathered stone walls of the monastery spoke of a long history, but the spire was modern, and slightly out of place. The doors were open, and they paid a few Czech Koruna or Crowns and wandered the grounds. A poster explained that the monastery suffered an accidental direct hit by an Allied bomb that destroyed the original steeple and much of the roof, which had been rebuilt after the war.
Mick enjoyed the atmosphere of the cloisters, and the peaceful feeling he got. The faded frescoes were hard to decipher, but he recognized some famous scenes from the Bible. He took a few pictures with the light streaming in through the tall windows.
Soon, it was close to the appointed hour, and they set off around the corner and spotted the café NØviz had chosen. It looked just like many other cafés in the city, and seemed to cater to both locals and tourists. Jasinski went in, sat down and ordered a coffee, while Mick pretended to smoke at a bus stop across the street.
Mick watched Jasinski stir her latte with a long spoon, holding the tall glass mug by the handle. He mused that Europeans really knew how to do coffee properly. The vast majority of Americans, who drank their coffee in paper cups with plastic lids, had no idea what they were missing.
A young man sauntered up to the table—NØviz, Mick presumed—and sat down with Jasinski.
So this is the exploit writer!
He saw NØviz reach across the table and take her hand, raise it to his lips and kiss it.
Awkward! Wait, maybe this could be useful.
Jasinski seemed a little surprised, but quickly regained her compos
ure. She nodded and he released her hand. He sat down with her, and they immediately began to converse.
A few minutes later, Mick saw NØviz look in Mick’s direction and say something to Jasinski. She got her mobile out from her pocket—their agreed-upon signal for him to join them. Mick crossed the road and walked up to the table.
“’Ello, Mike!” NØviz began, reminding Mick of someone else. “I told Jaz that you were watching us, so she—what is the term in English?—‘came clean’ and told me about you.”
“Hello No-viz, or is it Novice, or Now-viz?”
“I prefer No-viz” he replied. “What do you want?”
“Are you comfortable talking here?” Mick asked. When NØviz nodded, he continued. “I think you know. Your exploit was an incredible piece of code. Your botnet is astounding. I don’t think any of us really know for sure what could be done with it. Personally, I don’t think any government or any organization can be trusted with it. Now that you have it back, what are your plans for it?”
“I am not completely certain, to be honest. I am still exploring options. Do you have an offer?”
“Yes, let’s open-source it—give it as a gift to the security community. With thousands of researchers studying it, we can safely explore the power and the capabilities of the botnet. And we can learn how to protect ourselves against another one.”
“Boring!” NØviz replied, dropping his hands on the table. “I am very disappointed—study it? Protect against it? Why would I do this? Do you know what this botnet is worth? And who will be willing to pay a large sum for it?”
Returning to Zero (Mick O'Malley Series Book 2) Page 6