The Blockchain Revolution

by Andrew Updegrove

  “That makes sense. I’m a pretty good coder, and Dirk doesn’t keep me very busy. Mostly, he keeps me on standby to cover meetings for him when he can get away with it. Would you like some help?”

  Frank paused. He didn’t normally enjoy collaborating on code. But Ruth seemed to think a lot like him. It could be a big help. “Sure. That would be great. Why don’t you pull your chair around to this side of my desk?”

  She did, and soon, they were deep in techno-speak, discussing possible approaches and pointing by turns at things the other was typing into the keyboard of Frank’s air-gapped system. When they were finished with an outline of their next steps, Frank emailed Hank Taylor to let him know about the new project.

  That email was duly collected and forwarded by Audrey Addams directly to Ryan Clancy at the FBI. And indirectly to Aleksandr Shukov.

  * * *

  Shukov finished reading Frank’s email. It was almost too good to be true. This Adversego person had decided to design the very same type of malware the FSS was charged with developing. When Adversego was through, what he created would even be on a system inside First Manhattan Bank itself. All Shukov needed to do was wait until it was complete and then devise a way to move it over to First Manhattan’s live version of BankCoin. Or he could transfer it onto the copy maintained by another bank, some of which were in countries friendly to Russia.

  Best of all, if the Kremlin decided to launch an attack and used that malware to carry it out, the FSS could anonymously tip the Western authorities and all eyes would be on Adversego and not on the Kremlin.

  What fools these Americans were! Still, he should not rely solely on this potential good news. He must continue to drive his team to create his own means to destroy BankCoin. Better two potential avenues to the promotion he knew he so richly deserved than just one.

  Yesterday he had come up with a new idea on that front. Who should know better where to find a fatal vulnerability in a financial blockchain than someone who had devised such a network himself? Conveniently, such an individual existed, and the blockchain he had designed was supported by the Russian Federation. Shukov looked forward to drawing on the expertise of Oleg Lupanov.

  * * *

  Clancy was less enthused when he read the same email. So, Adversego was hard at work developing software that could take down the entire BankCoin network.

  He crossed his arms and massaged his biceps. Did that mean Adversego was just doing his job or that whoever was playing games with his apartment had blackmailed him into action? If the latter, Adversego was being very clever, reporting his idea to a coworker to make his actions look innocent. Of course, that wouldn’t save him from being a prime suspect if an attack did take down BankCoin. If he was the culprit, he’d likely disappear just before it occurred. Defect to whatever country he was working for or perhaps be set up with a new identity and a fat bank account in some other place. That could happen.

  Clancy looked up at the ceiling. Should he ask a judge to approve taking Adversego’s passport away?

  No. If he did that, whoever Adversego’s handler was would drop him immediately. Then they’d move on to someone else, and Clancy would be worse off than he was now. Better to keep a close eye on Frank instead.

  Chapter 39

  Here’s Russ in Your Eye!

  Dimitri Ustinov told himself he had no reason to feel tense. He was a respected civil servant, and a recently promoted one at that. Following on the heels of the runaway success of the Russ he was now the Superintendent of Digital Finances for the Department of Information Technology in the Sphere of Budgeting and State and Local Finance Management.

  Yet here he was, sitting in the reception area of the central offices of the Federal Security Service, waiting to see a senior investigator of the FSS, and he did not know why. That did not bode well. Ustinov could only hope he would not be asked to provide any of the information he had so consistently failed to obtain from Mikhail Filitov.

  Precisely at the top of the hour, he was summoned by an aide who ushered him down endless hallways and through many turns before depositing him in an empty meeting room. And there he waited. For a long time.

  When at last the door opened, not one but two men entered. One was short and stocky with a bald dome that shone to the point of suggesting a liberal application of furniture polish. He wore a more cheerful expression than Ustinov would have expected to find within the bowels of the FSS. The second entrant was tall and thin, with close-cropped hair graying at the temples and a face that gave away nothing. It was also disconcerting: his almost lipless mouth divided his chin from the rest of his head like a long, puckered scar. Ustinov wondered which one was Aleksandr Shukov.

  “Ah, Dimitri Fedorovich,” the short man said. “I am Sergei Ovechkin. A pleasure to meet you. I am so sorry to keep you waiting. Please forgive me.” He gripped Dimitri by both shoulders as he spoke as if he was a long-lost brother. “And this is Aleksandr Shukov.” Shukov smiled slightly and shook Ustinov’s hand. “Now sit,” Ovechkin said. “Sit – and we shall talk.”

  Ustinov took a seat across the conference room table from Ovechkin. Shukov chose one several places away at the head of the table behind a pad of paper and pen that had been there when Ustinov entered the room. “So!” Ovechkin said. “Now you will tell me about the Russ.”

  “Of course, I would be happy to do so,” Ustinov said. “Are there specific aspects that are of particular interest? Current transactional volumes? Its technical status, perhaps?”

  “Everything,” Ovechkin said, slapping one hand lightly on the table. “Assume I know nothing and wish to know everything.”

  “All right then,” Ustinov said uncertainly. “Would it be appropriate for me to begin by describing what a blockchain is? Yes? Well –” he embarked on that topic, but it was awkward trying to speak to both men at the same time. Ovechkin was smiling and engaged while Shukov’s face remained expressionless. And he was sitting so far to the side that after a while, Ustinov unconsciously spoke only to Ovechkin.

  Ustinov waited to be prompted after he exhausted his shallow technical knowledge about the blockchain. But Ovechkin only smiled and nodded, so Ustinov launched into a description of how international transactions in Russ were conducted. He glanced at Shukov and noticed that he had not taken a single note. Was he even listening?

  Halfway through that topic, Shukov interrupted him.

  “This is all very interesting,” Ovechkin said. “But you have not yet told us about the leader of the Russ Project, Oleg Lupanov.”

  Ah. So that was why he was here. Ustinov began to perspire.

  “No, sir, I have not.”

  “And why is that?”

  What could he say? If the FSS was interested in Lupanov, it likely knew volumes more about him than Ustinov did. Was it possible this was not true?

  “Uh, he works remotely, you see, which…”

  “Exactly,” Shukov said. “I am sure you will not be surprised to learn we would like to know whether the Western BankCoin blockchain has vulnerabilities. As an expert in such technologies, we believe Lupanov could provide useful insights to us. We wish to speak with him, and you must arrange this.”

  Ustinov’s mind was racing. The less he committed to in this room, the better. “I would be pleased to convey that request on your behalf,” he said.

  “Excellent!” Ovechkin interrupted, standing up. “I’m sure we can rely on you.” Ustinov was not, but he gratefully rose as well. Shukov remained seated.

  As an aide escorted him down one corridor after another on his way back to the real world, Ovechkin had a hard time thinking past the reality that he knew nothing about Lupanov beyond his email address. Thank goodness he at least had that.

  * * *

  Frank and Ruth decided that if a state actor wanted to take down BankCoin for good, the best approach would be to erase every copy of its blockchai
n. Off-the-shelf software already existed to perform such a task. But that’s not what an attacker would use. It would be easy to scan BankCoin to see if those specific lines of code appeared anywhere. A real enemy would therefore design a program from the ground up that was the most innocent looking, smallest package of code capable of doing the job. They spent hours in a conference room with a whiteboard thinking that through and eventually ended up with an approach they thought was worth coding. Then they set to work at their keyboards.

  Ruth was spending most of her time in Frank’s office now when he was in New York. To his surprise, Frank found he enjoyed the company. Either of them could look up from their keyboard, ask a question, get an answer, and then pick up where they had been without missing a beat. Their simultaneous coding on the same program worked just as seamlessly.

  At the end of the day, Frank would glance at his watch, suggest they call it a day, shut down his computer, and stand up. Ruth would follow him out on to the floor, hoping that this time, for a change, he might suggest they continue to talk shop over a drink or dinner. But he never did.

  * * *

  The weather had improved since Ustinov last stood waiting outside the anonymous, locked lobby of the building at number fifty-two Savushkina Street. This time, Filitov ushered him immediately into the world headquarters of RussCoin.

  “It is good to see you, my friend,” Filitov said. “How are things in Moscow? With your family?”

  “All fine. And with you?”

  Filitov laughed. “I sit alone here in this little room for a few hours a day. I have been divorced for years. My daughter has not yet given me grandchildren. What is there to tell?”

  Ustinov decided not to waste further time on pleasantries; better to emphasize the seriousness of the topic that had brought him there. “Ah – that’s the question, isn’t it?” he said. “During my last visit, you told me almost nothing about Oleg Lupanov. I asked for a comprehensive update on RussCoin then, including full details regarding all programmers and staff. I will say your report was quite satisfactory in most respects. But still you gave no telephone number or physical address for Lupanov. This data must now be provided.”

  Filitov stroked his chin. “Your concern is understandable,” Filitov said. Then he held up one finger. “But first, a toast to your promotion!” He trundled over to the small table in the corner and returned with a bottle of vodka and two small tumblers, the cleanliness of which looked suspect at best. “I am delighted,” he said, uncorking the bottle and filling the glasses, “that your able leadership of the Russ Project has been recognized. To your health!”

  Ustinov did not enjoy the Russian custom of drinking over business, especially in the morning. But he could hardly refuse such a toast. “Nostrovia!” he responded, lifting his glass, and drank the minimum amount possible without seeming to be rude. Filitov avoided giving offense by draining his own and immediately refilling both their glasses.

  “So!” Filitov said. “Now we talk business. May I know the reason for this sudden need for information about Oleg Lupanov?”

  “Unfortunately, no – I am not at liberty to say. And my need is not for more information, as such, but to speak with him.”

  “Ah!” Filitov said. “As I have stated previously, this may be difficult. I have never spoken with Lupanov, nor do I have a number to call if I wished to. I believe that I gave you his email address. I am afraid that I can do no more.”

  “But you could introduce me by email,” Ustinov said, leaning forward and taking a bigger drink from his glass this time.

  “I could do this, yes.” Filitov said, and then added with a smile, “For what it would be worth.”

  Ustinov stared for a while at Ustinov, and found it necessary to finish his vodka before responding. “And you could emphasize how important it is that we speak!”

  Filitov laughed. “I could emphasize, also, how important it is for him to brush his teeth. I expect he would give equal attention to both observations.”

  Ustinov’s thinking was becoming a bit fuzzy. He had no leverage to use on Filitov, and Filitov knew it. But the bearded Russian was Ustinov’s sole link to the developer upon whose good graces and performance Ustinov’s career currently rested.

  “I’m sure you will do all you can,” was all Ustinov could think to say. “And I will be grateful to you for doing so,” he added earnestly.

  Filitov smiled and refilled Ustinov’s glass. “In that case, let us drink to your further success. Come – and you must do better this time!”

  Ustinov did do better and then left, his head spinning as it hoped for the best.

  * * *

  Josh Peabody was feeling much better these days. The value of his CryptoBoom! fund was moving up nicely into positive territory. That was because more than half of its funds were now invested in a new cryptocurrency fund called No Pain No Gain, Ltd.

  And just in time, too. The plan was to begin pitching his second cybersecurity investment fund to existing and potential investors in two weeks. He wanted CryptoBoom! to be showing strong double-digit returns by then. Would he make it?

  What the heck. He typed in the instructions that would move the rest of the CryptoBoom! funds into No Pain No Gain. CryptoBoom! was a venture fund, and nothing ventured, nothing gained, right? And anyway, it would only be for a month or two. Then he could shift most of the money back.

  Besides, he was just moving money from one pocket to another, since he was the sole owner of JP Ltd., a shell company in Bermuda, the sole asset of which was all the stock of a shell company incorporated under Grand Caymans law, and so on down through a Panamanian company and a Venezuelan company until, at last, you got to No Pain No Gain, a Myanmar investment company.

  During the next two weeks, he was sure to profit handsomely – the Kremlin had been boosting the value of the Russ heavily ever since the US and its allies added it to the sanctions list.

  And the only thing the No Pain No Gain fund invested in was Russ.

  Chapter 40

  New Pen Pals

  The man known to Filitov as Oleg Borisovich Lupanov opened the two emails and smiled. The first, from Filitov, read:

  Dear Oleg,

  It gives me great pleasure to introduce you to Dimitri Fedorovich Ustinov, Superintendent of Digital Finances for the Department of Information Technology in the Sphere of Budgeting and State and Local Finance Management (copied in above). As you know, the Department is the financial sponsor of the Russ Project, and it has been very generous.

  While you have been most gracious in contributing your own time without compensation, this has not been so with all the programmers whose assistance has been essential to our success. And, of course, it has been necessary to incur many other expenses to ensure the acceptance of the Russ in the marketplace.

  Now, about Dimitri Fedorovich. He has been a constant supporter of the Russ Project, and I could scarcely be accused of exaggeration if I say his support has been instrumental in retaining the Department’s confidence and financial backing. This was particularly so in the early days when we had only promises to show for our efforts.

  So, to the point. Dimitri has a matter of importance he needs to discuss with you. He has asked me to provide this introduction so that you understand how significant the Department remains to the success of the Russ, and now I have done so. I am sure that you will give him every assistance he may request.

  With kindest regards,

  Mikhail

  He looked up from the email and smiled – he could not remember when he had last read such a fawning message.

  But it was no joke, because the second email began as follows:

  Dear Mr. Lupanov,

  It is with great pleasure that I make this acquaintance, following on the kind introduction of Mikhail Filitov. Let me begin by thanking you for the exemplary leadership and technical brilliance you
have brought to the Russ blockchain project. The Russian people, as well as myself, are in your debt.

  And yet I find myself in the position of needing to ask you a favor on behalf of Aleksandr Shukov, Superintendent of Cyber Activities for the Federal Securities Service.

  Mr. Shukov has informed me, in the highest confidence (which I am sure you will respect), that he and his colleagues wish to consult with you regarding the BankCoin technology of which I expect you are aware…

  It was a deliciously ironic message. But, also a troubling one, because certainly Lupanov would have to respond to avoid suspicion, and that was impossible. Clearly, a face-to-face meeting was out of the question; he could think of no circumstance that would justify putting Lupanov’s cherished anonymity at risk. A telephone conversation would be almost as bad. Surely, the caller would be capable of tracing the call before its completion. And just as assuredly, he would.

  That left only email or some other kind of online exchange, such as setting up a page on the Dark Net where the FSS could post questions and Lupanov could type in his answers. At the least, insisting on that mode of communication would raise serious concerns.

  But neither could he ignore the request. At most, Lupanov could wait a few days before responding or give an ambivalent response or both. But then what? All too soon, he would have to refuse to meet or speak or quit replying. In either case, he had to believe the result would be a concerted effort by the FSS to find Lupanov; perhaps he might even be locked out of the Russ system.