Hack

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Hack Page 10

by Peter Wrenshall


  “Why don’t you just download from Monolith?”

  “What’s that?”

  “It’s where you can get music from.”

  “You mean like the latest stuff?”

  “Some of it.”

  “How much does it cost?”

  “It doesn’t cost anything.”

  “Really? Why?”

  “It’s kind of sharing, you know. It’s not actually legal, but people do it.”

  “Do I have to share some of mine?”

  “Yes, that’s the idea.”

  “Can you show me how?”

  “Sure.”

  What had I been glooming about? This was almost too easy.

  “How about tonight?” I asked.

  “Okay.”

  When the last bell rang, I phoned Hannah and told her that I’d be going to my friend’s house for dinner. I didn’t say which friend.

  I was surprised to find that Grace’s room was entirely normal. I don’t know why—maybe it was the dark eye makeup—but I had half-expected it would be painted black, or something like that. I looked at my watch. It was nearly four-thirty. I hoped that I’d have time to contact Knight Securities Inc., before they closed at five. I was thinking of hiring their services, and needed a couple of references from them.

  Computer security companies and reformed hackers turned white hats are a popular challenge for hackers, and just one well-publicized crack could leave them out of business forever. So you can imagine how heavy Knight would have laid on the 54

  security for his own network. That meant that I’d have to go in through a back door, and the easiest route was through one of Knight’s clients. Knight would have to periodically remotely monitor them for break-ins. That meant that at least once a day, there would be a connection leading back into Knight Security Inc.—a connection that I might be able to tap into.

  “This computer is really old,” Grace said, powering up the machine under her desk. I took a look at it. It was a couple of years old, which was surprising, since her dad did such a nice line in stolen hardware.

  “It’s okay for playing music,” I said. I moved to the keyboard, and quickly surfed over to Monolith’s site, where I downloaded the software.

  “I am putting this program on your machine, so you can exchange music files with other people.”

  After the installation had finished, I said, “Give me a band name.”

  “Trauma,” Grace said. I typed ‘trauma’ into the search box, and a couple of files came up on the list.

  “Now right-click and download them. You can preview them, to see what they sound like.”

  Grace clicked the preview button, and a blast of angst-pop music that sounded like it had been recorded in a grain silo blared out.

  “Hey, it works,” Grace said.

  I looked at my watch. It was twenty to five. I left Grace downloading, and took out my own notebook, booted it, and got busy transferring my hacker programs from the memory stick to the computer. I started to unpack my toolkit, the collection of scripts and utilities that I kept with me whenever possible, in the way that a tradesman keeps his toolbox in his truck.

  Getting set up is important to me. If I know where everything is, then I generally work a lot faster. I used to spend half an hour getting ready so that I could spend ten minutes hacking, rather than the other way around. I did a couple of familiar registry hacks, resized the page file, and turned off a couple of services that were sure to do nothing but take up resources and let in Trojans and hackers. I lifted my head, to find Grace staring at me.

  “Is everything okay?” I asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “I mean, you don’t mind me using my computer?”

  “I don’t mind.”

  “You seem a bit spooked or something.”

  “It’s nothing . . . It’s just that I am a bit surprised because . . .” Her shoulders slumped, as if she was puzzled, but then she rolled her eyes, and was smiling again.

  “Nothing. So what are you doing?”

  “I’m setting up my computer. Do you mind if I use your Internet connection?”

  “I don’t mind. I’m going to get something to drink. Do you want anything?”

  “Unleaded?”

  “Huh?”

  “Decaf.”

  “Sugar?”

  “No thanks. Do you mind if I make a phone call?” I said, taking out my phone.

  “Go ahead.” When Grace had gone, I connected up to the Yellow Pages site, and typed “Knight” into the search box, along with the ZIP code for Knight’s area. It came up with a listing for Knight Securities Inc.

  “Good afternoon. Knight Security Services,” said a woman’s voice.

  55

  “Hello,” I said, in my best no-nonsense businessman’s voice. “My name is David Johnson. I’m calling about your security services. I think our computers might have been broken into.”

  “Yes, sir. I’ll put you through to someone who can help.” The line clicked, and for a worrying moment, I thought that I might be put through to Knight, who would probably recognize my voice.

  But then a different voice said, “Hello, Mister Johnson, this is Charles Forbes.

  I understand that you think your computers might being targeted by criminals?”

  “Well, I hope not,” I continued, “but I want to be sure. Maybe you can do something for me.”

  “I’m sure we can. How we usually start is to send out a consultant, just to do a quick assessment of the situation. What sort of business are you in?”

  “I run a jewelry business. I lend pieces to the fashion magazines. If your wife reads magazines, then there’s a good chance that the accessories some of the models are wearing come from us.”

  “Oh, yes, my wife’s a big magazine reader. And can I ask you, are you based in Washington?”

  “Yes, that’s right.”

  “Great. Well, if I can get the address from you, I could arrange for a consultant to call on you at a convenient . . .”

  “Sure, but look, I’d like to get a couple of references from you, first. Is that possible?”

  “Certainly, sir, no problem at all. We have many satisfied customers. Can I take your address?”

  My address? I’d have to stall him.

  “Yes, it’s . . . I just got a call on the other line. Sorry, but I’ve got to take this.

  Can I get back to you?”

  “Please do,” said Forbes cheerfully. “I’ll have those references waiting.”

  “I’ll call you back in ten minutes.” I checked my watch. It was nearly five.

  Grace walked in, and handed me the coffee. Then she went back to her computer, and there was silence in the room.

  “You have a lot of trophies,” I said, just to be saying something. A shelf on the other side of the room was covered with sports medals.

  “I’ve had those for years.”

  “What are they for?”

  “They’re for shooting.”

  “Shooting? You mean guns?”

  Grace grinned. “Nah, I’m kidding. They’re for running, but I don’t do that anymore.”

  “I like cycling. I never won any trophies though. Come to think of it, I was too busy to enter any races. Do you like cycling?”

  “No.”

  That was the end of that conversation. I rang Forbes, and true to his word, he had the references ready. He gave me the names and addresses of two of Knight’s clients, Mr. J. McFey of Paktran Inc. and Donald Aston of J. B. Enterprises.

  “Thanks very much,” I said. “You’ve been very helpful.”

  “Not at all. You can call me any time you want to talk about anything.” I said I would, and rang off.

  The two references I had in my hand were two possible backdoors into Knight’s lair. I slipped the details into my pocket and had a quick look over my new 56

  phone. Since the advent of mobiles and digital telephone networks, phreaking had died out a bit. Thanks to the new technology�
��which in those days was almost as secure as a wet paper bag—phreaks were to some extent on the rise once more.

  I had a quick look around the wireless routers in the neighborhood. My scan detected half a dozen good connections to routers that I could use. Two of them had no password on at all. Mr. Brown and Mrs. White had just taken them out of the package, and plugged them in, like it showed on the box. Another one had a NeoTeks home firewall, which had a default manufacturer’s password still set. I knew NeoTeks used “router” and “router” as the default username and password. One of the other three had old WEP encryption, which I cracked within a few minutes. I connected to one of those, and had a look around the Internet.

  When I looked up, Grace was sitting at her desk, transferring music to her player.

  “Did you eat yet?” I said.

  “Not yet.”

  “Wanna go out?”

  “You want to order pizza?”

  “Again? No, I wanna go out.”

  “Where to?”

  “They have these things called coffee shops.”

  “Duh. I mean the only good places are in town.”

  “So?”

  “So, it’s a long walk.”

  “They have these things called taxis.”

  “They have these things called taxis,” repeated Grace, acidly. I took my phone out, and dialed the local cab company.

  “I’m going out,” Grace shouted down the hall, as she put on her jacket.

  Fifteen minutes later, we were in Java Hut, sipping drinks and discussing entropic aspects of the non-existent universe, while we were waiting for the pepperoni to arrive. But I was thinking about Knight once again. I had found a safe haven for my hacking exploits, and a willing accomplice. But I hadn’t quite sealed the deal.

  “Grace, can I ask you something?”

  “Sure.”

  “How would feel about me coming over to study, after school, for a few nights?”

  “To study?”

  “Yeah.”

  “At my house?” There was something odd in Grace’s voice.

  “Yes.” Now that I had said it, it sounded dumb. We had no classes together, and there was nothing to study.

  “It’s just for a few nights,” I said, stumbling on when I should have shut my mouth, until I had figured out what I wanted to say.

  “I could pay you.”

  “Pay me?” Grace frowned.

  “Yes. A hundred dollars for the rest of the week.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  I took a deep breath. Time to level.

  “Look, you know I just moved to Elmwood, right?” No answer. Grace had stopped eating, and was looking over toward the nearest exit, ready to bolt when the weirdo made a grab for her.

  57

  “Well, part of the reason that my family moved here was because I got into trouble.”

  The two girls at the next table suddenly stopped talking.

  I lowered my voice. “I got caught computer hacking. It wasn’t anything major.

  I didn’t steal anything. But I was doing something that I wasn’t supposed to be doing, and I got into trouble.”

  “How much trouble?” Grace said quietly.

  “My dad went crazy. He’s in security, and he had to leave his job. We came out here, and now he makes sure that I don’t use any computers unsupervised.”

  “You just bought a computer,” Grace said, the unattractive line in the middle of her forehead getting deeper.

  “Yeah, and I keep it in my locker, where my parents can’t see it. If they knew about it, I’d be grounded every night for a year. I can do some programming at lunchtimes, but I have to get it set up, do some downloads, and things. If I could just come to your house for a few days, I’d be able to get it ready.” It still sounded suspect.

  “Why didn’t you tell me the truth?” Grace said.

  I shrugged.

  “I didn’t want to tell you that I had got into trouble.”

  “Did you get arrested?”

  “No.”

  “Then what’s the big deal?”

  “Ask my dad. He went off the rails. He said we have to move. He even banned me from having a mobile phone.”

  “Is that why you wanted a phone?”

  “Yes. How about it? Would you let me use your place just for a few days?”

  “A few days?”

  “Yeah.”

  “So, let me get this straight, you want to be a computer programmer, but your parents won’t let you, and you want to come to my house and program computers there.”

  “Yes.”

  “But how can your parents stop you from programming computers?”

  “I guess you’ve never met my dad. I am banned. Totally and completely. He wants me to go to medical school, but I can’t stand that sort of thing. I just like computers. It’s the only thing I want to do.”

  “Okay.”

  I breathed a sigh of relief.

  “Thanks. You won’t tell anyone, will you? About my getting caught hacking?

  It’s a shameful family secret, never to be uttered.”

  “I won’t say anything. I guess that’s why you have that aura of mysteriousness about you.”

  I didn’t reply. If there was a good answer to that one, I didn’t know it.

  “Why don’t you want to go to med school?”

  “It’s just not me.”

  “I wish I could go.”

  “Yeah? Doctor Mack?”

  She shrugged. Then she picked up her coffee and drank some. That was a good sign.

  I had to change the subject to something else.

  58

  “So, what do people do in Elmwood, when they are not eating pizza?”

  “Oh, you know, movies, bowling . . . computer hacking.”

  Funny. I let her have that one, and finished my pizza.

  As we got out of the taxi back at her house, I asked, “Can I leave my stuff at your house?”

  “Sure. No worries.”

  59

  Chapter 13

  The next day, after school, I went to Grace’s house. I unpacked my computer, and went through the motions of getting everything set up the way I wanted it, and then started dry running through possible scenarios. I was surprised at how easily I had got back into my old habits. It was as easy as getting back into bike riding.

  I was also surprised at how quickly I had got used to being in Grace’s small shabby house. The place was old, and it was occupied by at least one criminal. But there was something easy about being there, and it certainly beat being at home with Hannah and Richard. Not that they were difficult to live with. But knowing that I, a convicted felon and an almost convicted terrorist, was cooped up with two medal-winning feds was a bit much. It was nice to be somewhere I wasn’t looking over my shoulder constantly.

  “Want to go out later?” I asked Grace.

  “Where to?”

  “We could get some food.” She frowned, in a distinctly we-did-that-last-night way, and I switched to plan B. That was one of the lessons I had got from Olivia’s tips: always have a plan B.

  “I could do with a look around the mall.”

  “Okay. What time?”

  “Later.”

  “I’m going to turn on the TV, okay?”

  “It doesn’t bother me,” I said.

  Grace switched on her TV, and flipped through the channels. I put the noise out of my head, and got busy hacking. For the next hour, the world, the TV, and Grace all dissolved and vanished.

  A hack goes like this: First you identify your target, which was simple in this case, since Knight now ran his own company. Then you do your research, start phoning the business and asking innocent-sounding questions, or dumpster diving.

  After that, you find a flaw in the network’s security that allows you to run a program.

  That program can give you a user account. You start guessing passwords, with the intention of giving your account administrator privileges. After th
at, you install your own backdoor, wipe the security logs clean of any traces, and don’t go there for a while. After you’ve laid low for a while, you go back and look around, and usually discover that while everybody else was looking in Area 51, Area 52 was where the government really stashed the alien spaceship. That essentially is how a hack goes.

  In this case, I didn’t have the time, resources, or even the space in which to work. I had to break all the rules about breaking the rules. All I had was a week or two at the most, a stolen computer, and a girl’s bedroom complete with stuffed animals, perfume bottles, and Road-Runner-shaped slippers.

  So, the first task was to have a quick look at Knight’s operation. I assumed that there was no way in, but part of me had to confirm that at least I hadn’t been complacent. Even if I failed, at least I had worked systematically, without overlooking the obvious.

  Companies like Knight’s connected their servers to the Internet by registering with the authorities. I executed a script that pulled registration information for Knight Securities Inc. from the registrar, and got an immediate hit for his DNS (domain name service, which converts numbered Internet addresses to regular names like spods.com). The DNS value would be something I could put into a scanner. Such scanners can be incredibly fast, testing thousands of Internet addresses in little time.

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  But in cases like these, the scanner I used was very slow. It had to be, because any storm of activity would be picked up by Knight. If you just scan slow and wide, fewer alarm bells go off. I also modified it to switch wireless connections at every failed attempt. That way, a different source address would show up on Knight’s server.

  Again, that would cause fewer alarm bells to go off. But it meant waiting for several hours, while the results came in.

  I left that running, and turned my attention to J. B. Enterprises. I tried the same series of steps, and got the same results. Nothing immediately obvious was showing as open.

  I did a direct scan, not as worried about creating noise as I would be with Knight. After all, most companies can expect several such scans daily. It would just be lost with the others. But I got nothing from it anyway. I knew that Knight had a preference for Microsoft operating systems and the Cisco networking kit. I telnet-ed into the gateway, just to see if I could get a banner, but got nothing. I picked up my phone and rang J. B. Enterprises.

 

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