Terminal Compromise by Winn Schwartau (my reading book .txt) 📖

we want to keep this on a Federal

level. USC 1029, 1030, 2134 – they’re a bunch of them including

racketeering. Then there are a number of Federal laws against

doing anything injurious to the United States.

WHICH GIVES YOU THE RIGHT TO PROSECUTE ANYONE YOU DAMN WELL

PLEASE WHENEVER YOU DAMN WELL WANT. <>

As a lawyer, I could make that case.

I AM A LAWYER, TOO. I PHREAK FOR PHREEDOM. <>

Then you also know, that you have to really be on someone’s shit

list to get the FBI after you. Right now, Homosoto and his gang

are on our shit list big time.

THEN WHEN YOU’RE THROUGH WITH THEM, IT’S US NEXT. THEN WHO’S

LEFT? <>

RIGHT. <>

We can argue forever. All I’m saying is we could use whatever

help you can give us. And I honestly don’t care who you are.

Unless of course you’re on my shit list.

FBI HUMOR. <>

WHAT ELSE DO YOU NEED? <>

As many signatures as possible. We figure that there are thou-

sands of you out there, and you can probably do a better job than

any government security group punching in at nine and out at

five. You have more people, no bureaucracy and a bigger sample

of the software population.

SIGNATURES? NO QUESTIONS ASKED? <>

None. Also, rumors.

WHAT KIND OF RUMORS? <>

Like who might want to disrupt the Air Reservations System.

YOU’RE KIDDING? <>

I wish I was. You see, we are up against the wall.

THAT COULD REALLY FUCK THINGS UP. <>

REALLY! <>

IS IT REALLY THAT BAD? <>

Worse.

MAYBE I’LL THINK ABOUT IT. <>

ME TOO. <>

MASON. I’M GOING TO CUT YOU OFF. <>

It won’t be the first time.

<<<<<>>>>>

Tyrone stretched his limbs searching for a bare place to sit

down. Leaning over Scott’s shoulders for the slow paced computer

conversation stiffened his muscles. Scott motioned to slide

whatever was in the way, out of the way, to which Tyrone com-

plied.

“Dedicated mother fuckers. Misguided, but dedicated.” Ty sat

back in thought. “What do you think they’ll do?”

“I don’t think, I know,” said Scott confidently. “Most of them

will help, but they won’t admit it. They openly distrust you,

Washington and me. But they value their freedom, and instinc-

tively they will protect that. Kirk will be the conduit. I’m not

worried.”

“And what will they do?”

“Once they get around to it, they’ll commandeer every hacker in

the country and at least stop the viruses. Or some of them. I

think that we need to elicit their trust, and I can do that by

giving them more than they give me.”

“Can you do that?”

“Just watch. If they play their cards right, they can be

heroes.”

Chapter 29 Monday, January 25 The White House

We had a pretty good handle on parts of it,” said Marvin Jacobs

glibly.

Phil Musgrave, Martin Royce, Henry Kennedy and Quinton Chambers

joined Marvin in one of the private White House conference rooms

at 5 A.M. Jacobs had called all members of the inner circle,

personally, early that morning. He had received word that last

evening’s computer conversations between Scott Mason and the

Spook had been intercepted and the preliminary analysis was

ready.

Scott Mason’s computer screens had been read by the NSA’s remote

electromagnetic receivers while he prepared his article for the

following day. The actual article had also been transmitted to

the White House, prior to publication, as agreed.

“And Mason seems to be living up to his part of the bargain,”

Jacobs continued. “He only edits out the bullshit, pardon my

French. Gives the public their money’s worth.”

“You said we were close. How close?” Musgrave tended to run

these meetings; it was one of the perks of being the President’s

Number One.

“His organization was a lot more comprehensive than we thought,”

Henry Kennedy said. “We underestimated his capabilities, but we

caught the essence of his weapons by good guessing.”

“If we could get our hands on this Spook character,” sighed

Martin Royce. He was thinking of the perennial problems associ-

ated with identifying the exact location of someone who doesn’t

want to be found.

“That’s not the problem,” said Chief of Staff Phil Musgrave. “We

know who the Spook is, but we can’t prove it. It’s only hearsay,

even with Mason’s testimony, and it’s a pretty damn safe bet he

won’t be inclined to testify. But Marv has given us a ton on

him. After all, he is Marv’s fault.”

“You guys sort that out on your own time,” yawned Phil. “For

now, though we need to know what we’re up against.”

“If the President hadn’t gone on television last night, we might

have been able to keep this quiet and give the press some answers

in a few days.” Marv said.

“Dream on,” Phil said emphatically. “Mason broke the story and

we were caught with our pants down. The President did not, and I

repeat, did not, want to be associated with any cover up . . .”

“I didn’t say cover up . . .”

“He wants to take his lumps and fix it. He will not lie to the

American people.”

“If we shut Mason up.” Marv suggested.

“We need him right where he is,” Henry Kennedy said about Scott

to stem the escalating argument.

“The subject is closed.” Phil’s comment silenced the room.

After all was said and done, Musgrave was the closet thing to the

President in the room. As with the President, the discussion was

over, the policy set, now let’s get on with it. “So, Marv? What

are we up against.”

The seasoned professional in Marvin Jacobs took over, conflicting

opinions in the past, and he handed out a series of TOP SECRET

briefing folders.

“You’ve got to be kidding,” laughed Martin Royce holding up his

file. “This stuff will be in today’s morning paper and you

classify it?”

“There are guidelines for classification,” Marvin insisted. “We

follow them to the letter.”

“And every letter gets classified.” muttered Royce under his

breath. The pragmatist in him saw the lunacy of the classifica-

tion process, but the civil servant in him recognized the impos-

sibility of changing it. Marv ignored the comment and opened his

folder.

“Thanks, Phil,” began Marv. “Well, I’ll give it to him, Foster

that is. If what he says is accurate, we have our work cut out

for us, and in many cases all we can do is board up our windows

before the hurricane hits.”

“For purposes of this discussion, assume, as we will, that the

Spook, Foster, is telling the truth. Do we have any reason to

disbelieve him?”

“Other than attacking his own country? No, no reason at all.”

Marvin showed total disdain for Foster. His vehemence quieted

the room, so he picked up where he left off.

“The first thing he did was establish a communications network,

courtesy of AT&T. If Foster is right, then his boys have more

doors and windows in and out of the phone company computers than

AT&T knows exist. For all intents and purposes, they can do

anything with the phone system that they want.

“They assign their own numbers, tap into digital transmissions,

reprogram the main switches, create drop-dead billings, keep

unlimited access lines and Operator Control. If we do locate a

conversation, they’re using a very sophisticated encryption

scheme to disguise their communications. They’re using the same

bag of tricks we tried to classify over 20 years ago, and if

anyone had listened . . .”

“We get the point, Marv,” Phil said just before Henry was about

to say the same thing.

“We can triangulate the cell phone location, but it takes time.

Perhaps the smartest thing Foster did was recognize the need for

an efficient distribution system. In order for his plan to work,

he had to insure that every computer in the country was

infected.”

“Thus the dGraph situation?” Quinton Chambers finally began to

look awake.

“And the Lotus Viruses, and the Freedom software,” Henry said.

“What about FTS-2000?” He was asking about the new multi-billion

dollar voice and data communications network. FTS stands for

Federal Telecommunications System.

“I have no doubt that it’s in the same boat,” suggested Marv.

“But we have no sure data yet. We should ask Scott to ask Fos-

ter.”

“What could happen?”

“Worst case? The government shuts down for lack of interest and

no dial tone.”

“And these viruses?”

“According to Foster, they designed over 8,000 viruses and he

assumes that all or most of them have been released over the last

several years,” Marv said to a room full of raised eyebrows.