Rob—
Good to hear from you the other day. I already had some visitors come by my house who were interested in my little problem. I’m on it, so don’t worry. I’ll call you when I’m in the clear.
Next, to Kiyoshi:
Hello, Kiyo—
There’s so much I want to talk to you about, I wish you were online now. Things have taken an unexpected turn. I’ll tell you about it at 5.
Don’t forget, no special software.
Working through her list of things to do before she turned herself in, Alison relaxed with a sense of productivity. Her Zen calm in resignation was shattered when her computer emitted a trumpet herald, and a message blasted on her screen.
HELLO HELLO HELLO!!!! I THOUGHT YOU DIDN’T LIKE ME ANYMORE! I CAME TO VISIT YOU!!!! YES YES YES!
Dammit, that cyber-creep was back. Alison cursed the jerk to the high heavens before remembering that she’d reinstalled PeepHole with FireAx on her computer. With that powerful combination of software, she had a chance — maybe her last chance — to expose the guy and find out who he was before she pled guilty and faced the music at the embassy.
She typed a new unencrypted email message to herself which she knew the freak would intercept. All part of her plan to lure him in.
“Hello, my mysterious friend. Let’s go to a private chat room. Meet me in CHEZ ALI in 2 minutes.”
If she could engage him in a direct user-to-user chat, then PeepHole, with a boost from FireAx, could pick up a full reading on who the guy was. That was how it was supposed to work. In theory. No matter, it was her only shot.
She created the chat room and dared the door to open. It did.
“I KNOW YOU LIKE ME!!! I LIKE YOU TOO. WHAT ABOUT A DATE??”
A date with the pervert? The thought nauseated Alison. She needed to stay focused on her plan. Keep the guy online, keep him talking, expose his ass. Would PeepHole work in an instant? Or was it like a phone trace in the movies that took a while to get a good read? Alison didn’t know. She’d better keep him talking to her for as long as she could bear it.
“I wanted to meet you yesterday. That’s why I came running after you.”
“NO, I ALREADY MEET YOU.”
What was he talking about?
“I don’t think so. I haven’t had the pleasure yet.”
“YES!!! I MET YOU AT YOUR PARTY!! I GAVE YOU A GOOD NIGHT KISS.”
Alison shuddered. Too eerie. But she needed to keep at it, keep him online.
“A kiss? We haven’t even been properly introduced. What’s your name?”
“NO NAME. DAREMO IS MY NAME. NOBODY. SOMEBODY. I KNOW YOUR NAME ALI. ALISON CRANE.”
He knew her name and way too much else about her.
“Do you live in Tokyo, Mr. Daremo?”
“I CAN SHOW YOU PLACES YOUR BOYFRIEND DOES NOT KNOW. SIT ON SOFA AND FEEL GOOD WITH ME.”
Her boyfriend? What did the pervert know about Charles? She’d done an excellent job of getting Charles entangled in all of her mishaps. He’d be thrilled.
I WANT TO HEAR YOUR VOICE. DO YOU SING?”
Sing? What’s he talking about? The guy was beyond weird. Enough already. Alison closed the chat room.
Who was her perverted friend? She wanted to find out his name, his real name, the creep. Spying through the PeepHole, who could she see?
Alison’s fingers fumbled with the mouse and miss-clicked keys in her eagerness to know the true identity of her online tormentor.
The PeepHole log read:
12:08
Recipient Name: TokyoAli
Registered as: Alison Crane
User Computer Identification: Alison Crane
Logon Point: 8132345-2348
Message Sender Computer Identification: ERROR 26
Sender Name: ERROR 26
Registered as: ERROR 39
Logon Point: 8135795-4007
Alison recognized the logon point after her name. It was her home phone number. That meant that even though PeepHole didn’t provide a registered name for the geek, it offered up his logon point, the phone number he was calling from.
Alison raised her fists in the air. “Gotcha!” She copied down the number for the logon point on a memo pad. It was a good start.
Now that she’d found the bastard, what to do with him? She could expose him online, report him to the World NetLink authorities. Or, now that she had his number, she could run FireAx, get into the system he was calling from and poke around. But then what? Would he just disappear and leave her alone? Or would he be pissed and provoked and worm his way into her life even more?
The irony of her situation was almost laughable. At last, she’d found her anonymous stalker. She assumed she’d found him, she corrected herself, not wanting to believe everything she read online. Especially online. But now she didn’t know what to do with him.
The access logon phone number was a start. She could pester the freak with crank phone calls. Dial the number, wait for him to answer, then hang up. Other than that, she didn’t have any great ideas. But she knew someone who might.
Alison emailed:
Hey, Jed — Missed you at my party. Hope you can make it next time. Meanwhile, I’ve got a question. That guy I was telling you about who kept busting into my email. I found out his logon point of access. No name, just a phone number. Any suggestions on how to deal with him?
As Alison was typing, she realized that the freak could probably read the email after she sent it. She trashed the email and logged off.
Her pile of meishi business cards had multiplied in the dark of night. But at last, she found Jed’s card with his phone number. She dialed and hoped Jed would answer.
“Moshi moshi.”
“Jed? It’s Alison Crane. We met at Kinokuniya, and—”
“Alison! What’s up? You’re not calling to return my computer, are you?”
Hearing the down-home friendliness of Jed’s voice made Alison smile. “No, I love it. No complaints.”
“Cool. How’s the software working for ya?”
“That’s why I’m calling. I’ve been running PeepHole, like you suggested. And I think I caught him. That guy who’s been harassing me online.”
“Fucking A! Now you can one-up that bugger.”
“The problem is I don’t know his user name. Only his logon point of access.”
“You know where he’s calling from, but you don’t know his user ID, right?”
Not sure that’s what she meant, Alison said “right” anyway.
“No sweat. It’ll take a little more doing, but you can get in the system logs and find out who sent mail to you. You got the time, destination and system. You just need some software. It’s called—”
“I can’t, Jed. No more software.” Alison’s breaths shortened. “Isn’t there any other way?” She ran her finger along her thumb nail, searching for a rough edge.
After a lengthy silence, Jed inhaled audibly through his teeth. He must have lived in Japan for a long time to have picked up the habit. “You got the report from PeepHole? Read it to me,” he said.
Alison recited from the PeepHole log.
“It said ‘Error 39’ for registered name?” Jed asked.
“Uh, yeah.”
“Error 39. Got it. I’ll call you back when I get something.”
“Oh. Okay.” Her stalker had taken the bait and she was in hot pursuit. But now all forward momentum had come to a screeching halt. There was nothing she could do but wait. And she detested waiting.
As if Jed could read her thoughts, he added, “I can call you back in — I dunno — half an hour?”
“You’re a lifesaver, Jed.”
“All in a day’s work. Happy to help. Damsel in digital distress and all that.”
Alison sat and waited. And waited. She hated waiting. And as she sat, her thoughts turned to Charles. Where could he be? She decided to try him again, to let him know about the visit from the embassy. How would he take it? Not so well. Those CIA minions
were all assuming that he was the one who had been a part of the porno pirate board and downloaded the encryption software. And exported it. No, Charles wouldn’t take it too well.
The ringing phone startled her. Her heart pounded, and sweat tickled at her armpits. Was it Charles? The embassy? She might have sophisticated privacy-busting software on her computer, but she didn’t even have basic Caller ID on her phone. Alison held her breath and picked up.
“Got the goods.” Jed said.
“Great! Who is he?”
“How ’bout you meet me? I’ll tell you everything. Shibuya, at Hachiko. In an hour.”
“Hachiko? What’s that,” Alison asked.
“The dog. In Shibuya. Ask anyone. See you in an hour.”
01110011 01110000 01101111 01110100 01110011
A crowd of people huddled around a bronze statue of a dog at Shibuya station. Alison had told the taxi driver that she wanted to go to Hachiko, and he’d dropped her off here. Apparently everyone knew about Hachiko. Everyone but her.
It was easy to find Jed among the waiting masses. The fluttering flag with a psychedelic peace sign was a dead giveaway. Following the beacon, Alison walked through the crowd until she saw Jed, flag mounted on his wheelchair.
Cheeks red with cold, Jed cocked his head when he saw Alison. “Let’s go inside, warm up.” Jed rubbed his hands together and blew into them. “Follow me.” They jostled their way through the intersection of overlapping crosswalks and rode the Prime Building’s elevator down to the basement.
Bistro-sized ramen restaurants lined the subterranean floor. The garlicky steam from a thousand bowls of ramen warmed Alison’s bones and reminded her that she hadn’t eaten since her breakfast coffee.
Jed pointed to a tiny shop at the end of the row of eateries. There was only one customer inside. “This joint’s my favorite,” Jed said. They sat at the counter, and Jed raised a finger to summon a server. “You want a beer, some noodles?” Jed asked.
“Yeah. Sure. Whatever.” Alison tried to control her impatience. She was keen to hear what Jed had learned about her stalker, but she was also hungry.
Jed ordered, and soon the server brought two mugs of Asahi beer followed by bowls of thick noodles submerged in a milky broth. Fatty slices of pork and a brown-rimmed hard-boiled egg, cut in half, floated in a pool of oil.
Alison was hungry, but she wasn’t sure she was up to having her first meal of the day consist of a greasy assault on her palate. She picked up a tidbit of seaweed and chewed on the edge. A little heavy on the salt, but surprisingly tasty.
Head lowered so close to the bowl that Alison was concerned that his beard would dip in the broth, Jed noisily slurped up a mouthful of noodles. A wheezing asthmatic would have been quieter. He paused to wash the ramen down with a swig of beer.
“Your friend’s handle is ‘Daremo,’” he said.
Daremo, Daremo. Where had Alison heard that? She remembered. The cyber-freak himself had told her online. She’d overlooked it in his crude, lewd babbling. “Daremo?” she asked.
“Yeah, you know, ‘nobody.’ In Japanese. He wants to keep a low profile.” Jed laughed. “And the system he’s calling from is an original logon point. My guess is that he’s a SysOp on his own network.”
“What does that mean?”
“Just guessing from the echo log I got, but I’d bet this guy’s running his own operation.”
“Can you explain? In a way I can understand.” Alison drank her beer. Its hoppy bubbles cut through the salty oil slick coating her mouth.
“He probably has a computer or two set up and runs his own BBS network. That’s how he can access other computers directly, scramble the source ID. Kinda tricky, but nothing too major league.” Jed popped the half-egg in his mouth and knocked it back with beer.
Runaway noodles escaped from Alison’s unsteady chopsticks and splashed back into her bowl. She was done. Eating wasn’t worth the struggle. She parked the chopsticks on the rest. “You said the guy can get into other people’s computers?”
Jed nodded. “The dude’s a SysOp — a system operator. He’s got powers beyond a mere mortal. He can read everyone’s email, look over their shoulder, even send software files. All anonymously.”
“Oh.” Alison said. She didn’t understand the how’s, but she was glad that Jed did.
“You’ve gotten off easy,” he said.
“Easy? The asshole’s been stalking me, threatening me. I wouldn’t call that easy.”
“Yeah, but some of these guys — and I should say some of these gals, too — can get into other systems and take over. With the right software, they can screw with your files and not even leave a trace. Not unless there’s a good firewall.”
“That’s great information, Jed, but what can I do to get rid of the creep?”
“I’ve been thinking about that. A coupla things come to mind. Just a second.” Jed nodded at the server and held up his empty glass. Alison was ready to buy him a keg if it meant he would sit still and talk to her. The server brought Jed a frothy new mug and took away his empty.
Alison drank her own beer to control her agitation. “You have some ideas about how I can get rid of the guy?”
Jed smiled and lifted one eyebrow. “Ah, yes. This is the fun part. Now that you know who this joker is, you can put a kill on him.”
Alison coughed and beer dribbled out of her nose. Pulling a tissue from her purse, she wiped her face. She hoped she hadn’t heard what she’d heard. “Kill him? I’m not—”
Jed shook his head. “Jeez louise. What kind of person do you think I am? A kill’s a call block. It blocks email from a user ID.”
Alison exhaled. She was so in over her head. “Is it hard to do? To put in a kill?” Saying the words made her feel prickly. What would the Bar Association think?
“You’re on NutLink, right?” Jed asked.
Alison nodded.
“Tell them what I told you, and they’ll set it up. They don’t like to advertise the service. Scares the users, makes the network look bad.”
“I didn’t realize it’d be so easy. I’ll send World NetLink an email right away.”
“Hold on. The kill’s just for starters. Kindergarten level. If you really want to stick it to that guy, I got some other ideas you might want to hear.”
“I’m all ears.”
“Your guy’s firewall isn’t for shit. That’s how I could get the dirt on him so quick.” Jed grabbed chopsticks in his right hand and a soup spoon in his left. With the urgency of a beached fish gasping for breath, he inhaled the last of his ramen.
Alison looked at her bowl, brimming with fugitive noodles floating in puddles of grease. She poked around with her chopsticks searching for a morsel she could get a firm grip on.
“What’s a firewall?”
“A firewall? You build it into your system to guard against intruders. Keep the bad guys out, only let the good guys in. A system safeguard.”
With the focused determination worthy of a Cirque du Soleil balancing act, Alison landed some noodles in her mouth. Things were looking up. “So you think the jerk’s unprotected? Even with a firewall?”
“He’s got a firewall, but it’s dated. And a crappy firewall offers all kinds of opportunities for fun.”
“So what does that mean for me?” Alison drained her beer.
Jed spoke to the server who then deposited a plate of plain noodles on the table and a foaming mug for Alison. Jed dumped the noodles into his bowl, stirred them into the broth and slurped.
“What can I do to get rid of the guy, Jed?”
“You could pop into the guy’s network, deliver a little present — a Trojan horse, a worm, a virus. Drop off the package then back out quiet as a ninja.”
“Trojan horses, worms, viruses. Speak English, Jed. Not techno-talk.” Alison sat back in her chair and pushed away her ramen bowl.
“OK. A Trojan horse. Think Greek mythology. It’s an innocent-looking program that visits a remote system, slips by the
gate, then wreaks havoc. Worms, viruses. They work kind of the same way.”
Alison closed her eyes, struggling to keep up. “So one option is sending the creep a horse or a worm, or something. How do I do that?”
“You need some software for hacking into systems. It’s illegal as all hell, but it’s effective. Called FireAx.”
Alison’s eyes flew open wide as Jed’s words sent shockwaves through her brain. “Illegal as all hell.” Alison was in it deep. Landed smack in the middle of quicksand with both feet and was sinking fast. But it would be unthinkably stupid to risk running any funny software again. Especially since the embassy officials were breathing down her neck.
“Fireax? I think I’ve heard of something like that.” She didn’t add that she’d purchased the software in Hong Kong and had used it to snoop around Green Space’s BBS network. “But I don’t want to mess around with trying to score illegal software.”
“I’ve got a copy of it,” Jed said quietly.
“Let me think about that one, Jed. Any other ideas?”
“There is one more possibility.” Jed took a toothpick from the dispenser on the counter. “Elegant in its simplicity. Hardly high-tech. More like a drive-by shooting. Easy to execute, virtually no way to see it coming. Or to guard against it.” With one hand held up to conceal his mouth, he picked at his teeth. Alison could tell that he was enjoying the build-up.
“All right, already! What is it?”
“You might want to take this guy out altogether. With a mailbomb.”
Alison couldn’t believe the conversation she was having. Plans for bombs? Kills? If this ramen joint was being bugged, she and Jed were in for it. But then, again, she already was in for it.
Alison leaned closer. “I hate to even ask, but what’s a mailbomb?”
Jed broke it all down for Alison, describing the what’s and how-to’s, while Alison took careful notes. At the end of his explanation, she set down her pen. “That sounds perfect, Jed. And like you said, elegant in its simplicity.”
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Tokyo Firewall: a novel of international suspense Page 26