The Hack Page 9

  Cody glanced at Teague, hesitating, still smarting from the bawling out he had received that morning. He plunged on.

  ‘In fact, genius is probably not up to describing what he’s achieved. We cannot backtrack to the originating IP addresses of any of these forty postings.’

  ‘Cody, we don’t do cannot!’ Teague’s scowl intensified.

  ‘Maybe if I explain it like this. Somebody with a hypodermic full of liquid, maybe half the amount of coffee left in your cup sir, injected it into the Alaskan oil pipeline. It got mixed with billions of barrels of the black stuff.’ He paused, picked up his own plastic beaker, and added, ‘Now, what we can do, have done in fact, is find the half cup. That in itself is a helluva feat.’

  And that was the extent of the good news he thought, as he watched their blank faces. He went on, ‘But even if we can find the pinprick the guy made in the thousands of miles of pipeline, I can’t guarantee he’s still gonna be there with the hypodermic. It’s taken us around one hundred and fifty man-hours to get that cupful. We did well to do it in the nine hours or so real time since we were alerted the stuff was on the web.’ Cody shrugged, looked from one to the other. ‘We’ve got the best minds on the planet sirs, except maybe the guy with that hypo.’

  The Director seemed sympathetic. ‘All right Cody, I think I just heard a no can do. How about the original hack. What progress we making on that?’

  ‘Well sir, to continue the analogy, the guy spiked our own pipeline, and took a teaspoon of our oil. Although we knew it had gone, that pinprick is still eluding us and as I said before –’

  ‘He may not be there with the hypo when we find the pinhole?’

  ‘Exactly, sir. We’ve got to catch the guy with his prick in his hand, so to speak.’

  A chuckle from the Director eased the atmosphere. Teague kept quiet, suffering silently.

  ‘So, what if he does it again?’

  ‘Sir, our systems,’ Cody flicked up several screens showing network security, ‘are generally bulletproof. The security services – the Agency, FBI, NSA, Homeland Security, National police databases etc – well, we have our own network, separate from and not directly connected to the web. Of course, we need access to the web and our firewalls keep intruders out, stop them crossing over from the internet to our intranet. We have our own lines and connections, in theory protecting us from a breach. It’s like we have our own internet, only for US security services.’

  ‘You said in theory, Cody?’

  ‘Sure sir. We use telephone lines. We use the internet. Anyone, with an IQ the size of a house and a decent state of the art computer, can cross from the internet to our intranet. Of course, once they’re inside the system it gets really difficult for them. We have all sorts of tricks, mechanisms and codes to stop intruders getting anything, but sometimes they get through. I did.’ He could not help the pride seeping into his voice and focused on the Director rather than Teague’s sour gaze.

  ‘Well son, for those of us with lesser IQs you’d better explain what threat this guy poses.’

  ‘Okay sir, if you don’t mind another analogy.’

  ‘Keep it simple for me Cody.’

  ‘Sir. We have five levels of security breach. If you think of your house, sir. You have walls and a garden, security gates for the drive?’

  ‘Sure do Cody.’

  ‘So, if someone rattles the gates, bangs the walls, you’re not too bothered sir?’

  ‘Nope, go on’

  ‘That’s Level One. Someone testing the security. And we get thousands, sometimes tens of thousands of these every day sir. Geeks, school kids, foreign agencies. We don’t even bother with them, just like you wouldn’t call the police if it were your home.’

  ‘Okay, Level Two Cody?’

  ‘No big deal sir. They’ve got over the walls, maybe can mess with the lawn or a few plants. These we do track and they get a warning at the very least, usually a visit from the Feds. We get dozens of these, but they’re merely playing with stuff that’s on our public web sites, stuff we’ve posted that they dick with. Like the USS Nimitz website when some idiot swapped the photo of the ship for a picture of a rubber duck.’

  ‘Yeah, I remember. And Level Three and above?’

  ‘He’s got into your garage sir. He can’t access the valuable stuff but he’s now a real threat. But he’s stuck. Usually the police have got him before he can get into the house. This is the guy who’s crossed from the internet to our own intranet, but we catch him before he can break the codes, get through our safety mechanisms. We get no more than a dozen of these a year.’

  His boss nodded approval then said, ‘Good analogy, Cody. This guy was a Level Four wasn’t he?’

  ‘That’s right boss. He’s in the house. He’s taken something. It could be really valuable like a Picasso, but this guy took an ashtray or something. Low level shit. Anyway, that’s what we thought.’ Cody looked at his boss, gave an apologetic smile. ‘Happens no more than once or twice a year. We normally track them and catch these guys, offer the best of them a job. That’s how come I’m here.’

  ‘And you’re having trouble tracking this guy.’

  ‘Yeah, he’s done some pretty neat stuff. We’re also sure it’s just one guy. We’re working on it, but, as I said before, until he hits us again we can only wait.’

  ‘So what’s Level Five, Cody?’ The Director’s head thrust forward. Clearly keen to hear what the young man had to say.

  ‘That, Director, is when the intruder has got into your safe, stolen all your valuables, raped your wife and infected her with AIDS.’ He saw the Director’s face darken and hurried on. ‘Sorry sir, but that’s the analogy. At Level Five he can steal our files, change records, hit us with viruses, basically mess things up so bad it’s never the same again.’

  ‘Thank God it’s never happened.’

  ‘It has sir, but not for five years, since our team was first formed. And we were lucky, only minor stuff was tampered with then. We’ve gotten more sophisticated since those days. But so have they. We think there’s a chance this guy could Level Five us.’

  ‘Jeez Cody, you think this guy could compromise the whole system?’ Teague grimaced, pain and anguish painted on his face.

  ‘Yessir.’

  ‘Can’t we do anything to stop him?’ The Director seemed impressed with Cody, but was clearly a very unhappy man.

  ‘We’re doing everything we can. But I won’t lie to you sir. Short of unplugging every one of our computers, and going back to the dark ages of paper files, I can no longer guarantee our systems are safe.’

  ***

  Kate finished the call to Johnny and was putting her mobile away when Tandy said, ‘Tell me about Johnny, Kate.’

  Kate was a little drunk, the champagne and success had literally gone to her head. ‘Only if you tell me about Mark!’ She giggled and sipped her coffee, it was simply the best she had tasted in years, and nibbled on a hand-made chocolate.

  ‘So! The Ice Maiden thaws?’

  Kate was on a roll, nothing could go wrong for her. ‘Let’s just say, he is my type! Is he single?’

  ‘I think you’d better ask him yourself, kid. I know he’s not short of female attention. He’s a gifted lawyer, got bored in the big firms. Couldn’t handle the stiffness, their antiquated ways, the old school tie.’

  ‘So, he joined you instead?’

  ‘Pretty much. A bit like you. Walked in off the street just after we’d shelled out over three hundred grand for eavesdropping a soap star’s phone. Told me we were crazy. Said he’d take that each year and promised he’d save us several times more than he cost!’ Charles chuckled as he remembered. ‘He’s almost as ballsy as you Kate!’

  ‘Mmm.’ She had liked the look of Mark when he first arrived at their meeting, but her mind had been on more weighty things. Mark didn’t really seem to notice her as a woman, didn’t even check out her boobs. Oh well, she decided, plenty of time to explore that when she got back from Thailand.

/>   ‘Your turn. Johnny? What’s his story?’

  ‘This goes no further, okay?’ Kate’s tongue flapped willingly.

  Charles gave her a pained as if look.

  Kate said, ‘He’s a certified genius. When he was thirteen the CIA wanted him to work with their new computer security team at Langley.’

  ‘Are you shittin me? At thirteen years of age?’

  ‘It’s true Charles. He loves computers, has done since before he could walk. His hands are like a sorcerer’s if you give him a keyboard and screen.’

  ‘How did the CIA find him? School?’

  ‘No!’ Kate sniggered at that. ‘He did something pretty stupid. He tried to launch a nuclear missile!’

  ‘Now you really are shittin me!’

  ‘It’s true. He was treating it like a computer game, you know. Accessing the National Security Agency and US Department of Defense Systems. The harder the better. He says they are just puzzles, waiting to be solved.’

  ‘But he never launched that missile. I’d definitely have heard about that! I’m in the news business y’know!’

  Kate watched Tandy’s belly shake with mirth again, and said, ‘It was close. The closest anyone has ever come.’ She couldn’t hide the love and pride in her voice.

  ‘What – this happen a lot then?’ Charles was serious now, sensing a story.

  ‘Not any more. At first the US Government didn’t know what to do with these guys hacking into their systems. Then some bright spark at the CIA decided to recruit them. Now their systems are pretty much unbreakable. Poacher turned gamekeeper I think you’d call it.’

  Charles relaxed. Old news is no news. ‘So why isn’t he at Langley now?’

  ‘He didn’t like the Agency types. Suits, he calls them. He’s a one off, needs his freedom. Trouble is, they put you in prison if you refuse their job offer.’

  ‘But he’s in the UK now – did he do juvenile time?’

  Then Kate lied. Realised she had said enough. Too much. ‘They took pity on him. You see, our mum had just died, and our dad passed away when Johnny was only two. I was his guardian.’

  ‘What, you took care of him?’

  ‘Yes. Since I was nineteen years old. Had to drop out of college.’

  ‘So, why did you come to the UK?’

  ‘Dad was English, we were both born here. Then Mum took us to the States when Dad died – she was from Florida. We have US and UK passports.’ She didn’t tell him they were in different names. Different to their real names.

  ‘I can’t see why you didn’t stay in sunny Florida. You exchanged that place for grey old London?’

  She let another lie dribble off her tongue. ‘The CIA said they’d wait until Johnny finished high school as part of the deal to avoid being locked up. So, we came here and they left us alone.’

  ‘It’s a great story Kate. Does he make a habit of hacking into the US Government’s database?’

  ‘No. The Simm info was a one-off. For me. And I know exactly what you’re thinking...’ She could see Charles getting excited at the prospect of Johnny anonymously hacking more juicy stories for his paper. Scoop after scoop.

  ‘Kate. There must be all sorts of stories we – ’

  ‘I said no Charles, and this is non-negotiable. It’s way too dangerous. Not only would he serve a prison sentence if he was caught, but imagine if the wrong people got hold of him... Criminals or terrorists.’

  Tandy looked genuinely pained.

  Kate finished her coffee and glanced at her watch. ‘It was a lovely brunch, thanks, but I had better shift if we’re to catch this flight! And Charles, no one is to know about Johnny. Okay? Our secret? You promised to keep it that way.’

  ‘Okay, okay!’ he said.

  Kate would discover later that she was not the only one who lied that day.

  ***

  The SimmpleTravel board meeting did not go at all well for Gary Knight. His fellow executive directors were supportive, they were employees and empathised with him. It was the non-executive directors who had caused the trouble.

  They came from the big investment houses and insurance companies. Part of the deal George had done to raise money on the stock market. Without a flotation the staff share option scheme, including Gary’s own generous package, would have been next to worthless.

  George had to agree that any investor holding three percent of the company’s shares would have the right to nominate a non-executive director to attend board meetings and represent their interests. Normally these grey men were quiet, just sat nodding and occasionally uttering something congratulatory. The company was a phenomenon; in ten years an investment of one pound would have reached a level of around three hundred pounds. The non-executives never had anything to complain about.

  Until today.

  They had laid into Gary, the Marketing Director, wanting to know what action he had taken to halt the collapse in the share price. By now their holdings had slumped to almost half their previous level. The business was crumbling. And they were looking to him to sort it out.

  Gary wanted to scream at them, George’s body is still warm you bloodsuckers! He had managed to pull back. Told them his admittedly vague plans, got a roasting and they left, demanding daily updates on sales and another meeting on Friday – just two days away.

  George once joked about them, telling Gary what the difference was between a non-executive director and a shopping trolley: ‘You have to fill them both full of booze and food, but at least the trolley’s got a mind of its own!’

  That summed them up today. They had joined ranks with the vociferous enemy.

  Gary picked up the phone. He had to get to the bottom of this.

  ***

  ‘I’m afraid the Editor’s not in.’

  ‘What time’s he due back?’

  Tina was frantically waving at Gus and finally managed to get his attention as she talked into the phone. ‘I’m sorry, Mr Knight, Mr Tandy is unavailable today. Can I put you – ?’

  ‘How about Kate O’Sullivan? I want to speak to her.’

  The voice broached no negative, but Tina responded politely. ‘I’m sorry, she’s on her way to Thailand.’ She gave Gus a thumbs up as he replaced his own receiver, then she mouthed to him SimmpleTravel. ‘Gus Valens, our chief reporter is here. I’ll put you through to him now.’

  Tina switched the call to Gus’s phone before Gary Knight could object.

  ***

  Gary had already put out a press release, expressing shock at the CIA allegations, distancing SimmpleTravel from any suggestion they catered to sex tourists, confirming his attorney was considering suing the US Government if it transpired that the malicious attack on their company was unfounded and really did originate from the FBI or CIA.

  The lawyer had wanted to fly over and speak with the reporters that broke the story too. But Gary wanted to speak to the bastards himself.

  The O’Sullivan woman and Tandy.

  For now he would make do with this Gus Valens character, currently on his way over for an ‘exclusive’ interview. Damage limitation was the name of the game, something positive to show the board on Friday.

  Gary stood in the doorway to George’s office, remembering the man. Lately his boss had been there less and less, and although they spoke every day by videophone, George left Gary to run things. He had said, ‘Only involve me in the big decisions. You sell. I’ll create the systems requirements and look out for the next opportunity. Strategy, that’s me!’

  George had a home in Mayfair as well as in Boston, but his wife hated England, the people, the weather. Gary often wondered why George set up in the UK, but it seemed he liked jetting off all over. Most recently to Russia and Asia.

  Gary’s eyes shifted to the wall behind the executive desk, a blown-up photograph of Simm shaking hands with the President of the United States. George had been so proud of that.

  Where are all his so-called friends now? Yesterday they were on the phone, expressing condolences. And toda
y? Silence. Gary almost choked at the thought. Don’t they all realise it’s just a dreadful mistake?

  God, he missed him.

  Gary took in the family photos, mementos and other personal effects on George’s desk... and his eyes blurred as the tears started. He thought about Gloria and George’s kids.

  No, Gary could not face going in there, sorting George’s business and personal things. He certainly was not ready to move in. He closed the door gently. It could all wait until next week.

  Gary had more important things to do.

  Like saving George’s company.

  ***

  Chief Lee decided to finish for the day. It was early evening and just forty-eight hours since the American had died in his hotel room.

  Lee, frustrated, stood looking out of his office window, sipping some iced tea. The day had yielded nothing.

  The picture of the hippy had achieved no response despite his men working ceaselessly. At times like this he felt desperately under-staffed. His team may get some results tomorrow, he thought. There just might be someone in the city who would recognise the man.

  The embassy liaison officer had taken the sketch with barely a word. His expression had said it all.

  No chance.

  The boy and Fan had disappeared too. None of Fan’s known haunts had presented a clue to his whereabouts. The last sighting of him had been in a mafia-run bar, a drug den, soon after the American died.

  The Thai mafia. Lee doubted Fan was employed by that particular crowd. They stuck to drugs, alcohol, gambling and legitimate prostitution, generally keeping a low profile in the tourist resorts, happily counting their money. At least they would not present a problem in this case.

  Lee squeezed the bridge of his nose and massaged the acupressure points in his sinuses. His head throbbed. He needed sleep.

  Time to go. Tomorrow would be a better day.

  ***

  The Hunter prowled.

  A shadow brushing the walls.

  Unseen.

  Following the stout Thai man as he waddled down the dark alleyway to the neon lit bar.

  This pub was not for tourists, being well away from the hotels, sex clubs and bright lights of the main drag. This bar existed for locals, tucked away in the seedy back streets huddled inland, far from the prime sites overlooking the glittering beaches. The smell of curried fish assaulted the nose, the sound of slum life echoed and bounced in the alleyways.