Fault Line

27 WE’RE DONE

Alex sat hunched at the desk, his eyes roving over the laptop screen, reading Hilzoy's notes for what felt like the thousandth time. He'd been up all night, going through the notes forward, then backward, then randomly. He thought if he approached Hilzoy's thinking out of order he might spot something he and Sarah had missed. But nothing.

The Obsidian toolbar was designed like a typical commercial software application, with functions laid out horizontally, each clickable to reveal a drop-down submenu of options related to the primary menu function. You could customize the menu to add functions or hide them, but none of the functions allowed him to do anything but obvious variations of encryption. He tried every version of the menu he could think of. He customized it. He hid functions, then brought them back.

Hidden functions. That's what he was looking for. But where were they? Not in Hilzoy's notes, that was for sure. Alex practically had them memorized at this point. There was nothing there.

Was there another version, maybe? Something Hilzoy didn't even trust his lawyer with?

Maybe. But if there was some sort of double, secret set of notes, Hilzoy would have needed to back that one up, too. Why have Alex hold the backup for one but not the other? It didn't make sense. There wasn't another version. It all had to be right here.

Another version, he thought, rubbing his eyes. Another version.

He cursored up to the menu and scrolled through it. File. Edit. Tools. He selected Tools, then cursored down. Macros, Customize… Track Changes.

Track changes.

Track changes… from previous versions.

Damn. Could it be that simple?

He selected Show Previous Versions. Nothing happened.

Shit.

He scrolled down through Hilzoy's notes. Midway, the numerals one through ten appeared in blue alongside a list of functions, the functions all relating to creation of a macro. The numbers were out of order. Alex stared at them, not understanding. He scrolled through the rest of the notes, but there were no other changes.

He scrolled back up to the numbers. It looked like in a previous version of the notes, Hilzoy had numbered these functions. But why? And why were the numbers out of order?

It had to be significant. If there had been any previous versions, Hilzoy had accepted all the changes, effectively erasing them all. Except for these numbers. He wanted a record of these. But a hidden record, apparently. That couldn't be an accident. It had to mean something.

All right, what if he just performed the functions in the order of the hidden numbers? Worth a try.

He followed the steps, one through ten, then hit enter.

Nothing happened.

Damn. He'd really been hoping there.

He scrolled up to the menu bar again, checking each function. File, nothing new. Edit, same. Tools…

He blinked and leaned forward. The Tools menu had three new entries: Creation. Concealment. Delivery.

“Holy crap,” he said aloud. “This is it. It has to be.”

Hilzoy had built an Easter egg into Obsidian. And not the usual, just-for-laughs version you could find in so many DVDs and so much commercial software. No, this looked like a whole new application for the technology.

But an application for what?

His heart pounding, he started working the keyboard. He got so immersed, he lost track of time, and didn't even remember where he was until light started creeping into the sky outside his window. What he found was electrifying.

At six-thirty, he showered and got dressed. He put the gun Ben had given him in his pocket, acutely aware of its weight and bulk. He couldn't imagine what it would be like to carry a gun-make that two guns-all the time.

He went across to the other room to tell Ben. The tough guy had walked out last night when things had gotten heated, but whatever. Alex wasn't sorry for what he'd said. Part of him wished he'd said more. Maybe that was the problem. Ben was obtuse. You couldn't expect him to understand something, especially something he didn't want to understand, unless you beat him over the head with it.

He tried his key card, but it didn't work. Shit, Ben must have engaged the privacy lock. He might still be sleeping. But the hell with it, this was worth waking him for.

Alex knocked, then waited. No answer. He knocked again, louder. After a minute, he heard Ben's voice.

“Give me a second. Gotta put some clothes on.”

Half a minute went by, then Ben opened the door, wearing only a towel. He said, “You're up early.”

“I did it,” Alex said, walking in past him. “I cracked it. I know what Obsidian is really about.”

Ben closed and locked the door behind him. “Hold on,” he said. “I need to hit the head.”

He disappeared into the bathroom for a minute. Alex looked around the room. One of the beds had the covers pulled off it. There was a pile of clothes on the floor. Looked like the jacket and shirt Ben had been wearing the night before.

Ben came out wearing one of the hotel's robes. He sat down on one of the beds. “Tell me,” he said.

“We have to get Sarah. She needs to hear this, too.”

“She's probably sleeping, don't you think?”

Alex was a little surprised by Ben's solicitude. Yesterday he wouldn't even let Sarah stop to use the bathroom. Now he was concerned about not waking her?

“She'll want to hear this, trust me,” Alex said. He walked over to the common door and opened it, then knocked on the door on the other side. “Sarah, it's Alex. Are you up? I found what we were looking for.”

“I'll be right there,” he heard from the other side of the door. A minute later, she came in, wearing a hotel robe. Her hair was tied back, she wasn't wearing any makeup, she was rubbing sleep from her eyes… and she was still beautiful.

It was funny that she and Ben were both in the robes. “Am I the only one who was getting anything done last night?” Alex asked. He meant the comment to be funny, but neither of them laughed, or even said anything. In fact, they seemed almost awkward. Well, he had just woken them both up.

“What is it?” Sarah said, leaning against the wall next to the door.

“I found an Easter egg,” Alex said. “In Obsidian.”

“Easter egg?” Ben said.

Alex nodded. “A hidden feature set. Something the programmer builds into the application but doesn't document, that's only accessible via a weird sequence of commands. Hilzoy built one into Obsidian. He documented the sequence in his notes, and hid the documentation so that it was only visible if you checked the current set of notes against a previous version.”

“You're losing me,” Ben said. “What are the secret functions? And why document them if they're supposed to be secret?”

“The sequence was complicated. It had to be, otherwise someone might have stumbled onto it by accident. Hilzoy was afraid he would forget it. So he included it in the notes in a kind of invisible ink.”

“He wasn't worried someone would find it?”

“Of course not. No one else had the notes, they were just part of a backup copy of the program he kept with his lawyer, and why would his lawyer bother reading his programming notes? And even if I, or someone else, did read them, why would anyone think to look for earlier versions? And even if you did look for an earlier version, the clues he left wouldn't mean anything to you. You'd have to already know something was hidden, and be racking your brains trying to find out what it was, as Sarah and I were. And even then, you could easily miss it.”

“Well, what is it?” Ben said.

Alex wondered why Sarah was being so quiet. Ordinarily, she got impatient with other people's explanations and was quick to add her own.

“The whole thing is a Trojan horse,” Alex said. “On the surface, it's an excellent, efficient program for encrypting data. What it's really ideal for, though, is encrypting a virus.”

“Cryptovirology,” Sarah said, looking at him.

Alex nodded, pleased that she understood right away. “Exactly. Malicious cryptography.”

“Sorry, guys,” Ben said, “you're getting a little ahead of me here.”

“Okay,” Alex said. “You know what a computer virus is, right?”

“Sure. A piece of code that someone sneaks into a system to mess things up.”

“Yeah, pretty much. Now, there are typically two ways viruses get detected and blocked-signatures and heuristics. Signatures basically means the antivirus software has a list of known viruses with instructions to block or isolate them. It's like the name of a suspected terrorist. It goes on a no-fly list, and if the name comes up, the guy can't get on the plane. It's the name you're keying on, or in the case of viruses, a kind of digital fingerprint.”

“Okay…”

“The second method is heuristics. Here, the virus is unknown, and you try to spot it by analyzing typical virus behaviors. To stay with the airplane analogy, this would be like passenger profiling. The guy's name doesn't trigger any alarms, but is he doing things we associate with terrorist behavior. If so, he can't get on the plane.”

“Okay, I get it.”

“So the biggest problem for the virus writer is avoiding detection. If it's a new virus, you don't have to worry about its signature being detected, only viruslike behaviors. But if you eliminate all the viruslike behaviors, you're left with something that's no longer functional as a virus. Undetectable, maybe, but also useless.”

“So we're talking about concealment,” Ben said.

“Exactly. That's where the encryption comes in. You use the encryption to create a polymorphic virus.”

Ben raised his eyebrows, and Alex realized he didn't understand. He paused for a minute, trying to think of a way to explain.

“‘Polymorphic’ means constantly changing,” Sarah said. “We're talking about code that mutates while keeping the original algorithm intact. Which is, generally speaking, how encryption works. If you encrypt the virus, the viruslike behavior is hidden beneath a constantly shifting cloak. Antivirus software doesn't know what to look for.”

“Why hasn't anyone done this before?” Ben said.

“They have,” Alex said. “A Bulgarian virus writer who went by the name Dark Avenger created a polymorphic engine years ago. And a couple of guys-Adam Young and Moti Yung-wrote a whole book on it. But there's always been a built-in limitation.”

“You can't encrypt the whole virus,” Sarah said. “If you do, it's unusable. You have to leave an unencrypted portion that will decrypt and execute the encrypted portion. And it's that unencrypted tail the antivirus software tries to target.”

Alex smiled, glad at her interruption. She'd been awfully quiet for a while. It wasn't like her.

“Obsidian encrypts the whole thing?” Ben asked. “How?”

“Maybe it won't work for all malicious applications,” Alex said. “I haven't had time to test it adequately. But what it does work for-and brilliantly-is a virus that's instructed to carry out malicious encryption.”

“I don't get it,” Ben said. “An encrypted virus for encrypting? Why would someone want to do that? I mean, isn't the ostensible purpose of Obsidian encryption?”

To Alex, it was so obvious that he was momentarily stuck for an answer. “Well, yes,” he said, “but the ostensible purpose is to encrypt your data voluntarily-and with your own key for decrypting it. Look at it this way. Imagine if this happened to you: you couldn't access your data. It would be like coming home to your house one day, and finding that someone had installed extra locks on all the doors-locks that you don't have a key for. Even if the perpetrator hadn't managed to defeat your locks and steal your stuff, he's prevented you from getting into your own house. You're locked out. Which means, effectively, your whole house has been stolen. You're homeless.”

“So you would use this for what, extortion?” Ben asked.

“That's one possibility,” Sarah said. “Or it could be pure destruction. Imagine if you locked up all the data at a major bank. Or the New York Stock Exchange. Or the Department of Defense. Or-”

“Don't those kind of institutions have their data backed up?”

“Sure,” Alex said. “But you can create a virus that lies dormant for long enough to infect the backed-up data, too. And even if someone had backup, think of the disruption that would be caused if you could freeze their primary.”

“Okay, I get it,” Ben said. “I get it. Damn. Does it have other applications?”

“I'm trying to find out. I mean, locking up a computer network is bad enough, but if you could install an Obsidian virus and have it clandestinely transmit data, undetectable by anti-intrusion systems? Man.”

They were quiet for a moment. Alex said, “So what does this tell us? I mean about who's behind this.”

“It's someone with a lot of reach, I'll tell you that,” Ben said. “Someone with a network capable of spotting Obsidian, assessing its hidden potential, and acting on a broad geographical scale to acquire it. If I had to guess, I'd guess the Chinese.”

“Why?” Sarah said.

“Because in addition to their overall reach, they're so active in cyberwarfare initiatives. They managed to get some spyware onto the German chancellor's computer that was siphoning off something like a hundred and sixty gigabytes of information a day before anyone knew better. And not long ago, someone penetrated the office computer of the secretary of defense. The Pentagon thinks it was the People's Liberation Army. They've run war games in which they launch a first-strike attack on American computers, the objective being elecromagnetic dominance-crippling our military operations and disrupting civilian life.”

“Come on, Ben,” Sarah said. “You sound like a Pentagon PowerPoint briefing.”

“Trust me, this is real. The State Department's computers are probed two million times a day. Two million. For the Pentagon, it's worse.”

Wow, they were sure being congenial. Yesterday, when they argued about this kind of stuff, it had practically been a death match.

“I'm just saying we don't want to rule out the United States,” Sarah said. “The government has an interest in this area, too.”

Alex said, “Well, what's our next move?”

Sarah shrugged. “Why not publish it? Publish the executable, Hilzoy's notes, your conclusions.”

“Are you crazy?” Ben said. “You just said yourself, anyone who knows how to use this thing could cause extreme destruction.”

“We don't really know that. Alex has found some malicious applications, yes, but as far as we know it's never been field-tested.”

Ben shook his head. “Absolutely not. All you're saying is that we know Obsidian could be destructive, but we don't know how destructive.”

“Information wants to be free,” Sarah said.

Ben laughed. “Come on, that's like saying a chair wants to be free. Information doesn't want anything.”

“What I mean is-”

“I know what you mean,” Alex said, “but viruses want to be free, too. That's not a reason not to contain them. We can't publish this. I mean, imagine the harm it could do. We can't take that chance.”

“Fine,” Sarah said. “But there's no way the people who are after this are going to just walk away if they think we know about Obsidian, or that maybe we have an extra copy. No way.”

Ben looked at Alex. “No, they're not walking away. I went to the house last night. Someone was waiting there.”

Alex felt a sick lurch in his gut, the memory of that night in the bathtub blooming darkly to life. “What happened?”

“I thought there was a chance someone might try to ambush you there, so I laid a counterambush. The problem was, there was an ambush-but it wasn't for you, it was for me. Or someone like me. I should have seen that coming. With what happened outside the Four Seasons, they knew you had some kind of professional help-a bodyguard, something like that. They outthought me. I was lucky to get away.”

“You got away. What happened to the guy who was waiting?”

“He didn't come out of it so well.”

Alex looked at him. He could feel himself not wanting to understand the implications of that last sentence. But he couldn't force the realization away. “You… you killed someone, at our house?” he managed.

“There's nothing there anymore, if that's what you're worried about.”

“Well… yes, that is what I'm worried about.”

“Great. Then you can stop worrying.”

“But… shit, Ben, if this was self-defense, and I'm sure it was, we could have called the police! They would have believed us. There would have been… you know, there would have been a body. They would have taken us seriously, they would have to.”

“Alex, self-defense is just that-a defense. I'm not going to get charged with murder and then hope a good lawyer will convince a jury my defense is valid. You're dreaming.”

“Goddamn it, Ben, you just blew our best chance!”

Ben stood up from the bed. “I blew it? I drop three people in two days who are trying to kill you, and that's blowing it? You're not happy with my performance, is that it, Alex? You want me to, what, go to prison for you? Tell me, what the fuck do you want?”

They stood staring at each other. Sarah said, “Look, the question is, what do we do now?”

Alex only half heard her. He was so pissed he didn't know what to do. His cocky, know-it-all brother, doing whatever the hell he wanted to, never consulting anyone, never mind the consequences.

“I have a way of finding out more about the guy Alex is so upset about,” Ben said. “That is, if Alex approves.”

Alex felt about a second away from telling him, Fuck you, just fuck you, then walking away and taking his chances with whatever happened after. Anything but more help from this prick he wished had never been born.

Sarah said, “I'm going to go next door so you guys can talk.” She went back to her room and closed the common door behind her.

Alex looked at Ben. “Why do you have to be such a dick?”

Ben shook his head disgustedly. “You're unbelievable.”

Alex stalked over to the wall. Why couldn't he get through to him? Why wouldn't he ever just listen?

He looked down at the pile of clothes on the floor. There was something funny about the shirt. He couldn't place what.

He leaned down a little. The buttons, that's what was funny. They were all gone.

What the hell? Why would the buttons on Ben's shirt…

Understanding flooded through him.

The robes. The weird feeling when Sarah had walked in. The way she'd been quiet. The way she and Ben had dropped all the rancor.

He looked at the bed. There was no depression in the pillow. The sheets weren't creased. The covers had been thrown back, that's all, thrown back by someone in a hurry, someone trying to create the quick and superficial appearance that he had slept there.

That he had slept alone.

He looked at Ben. “You… you didn't,” he heard himself say.

Ben held his gaze for a moment, then looked away.

“Oh, my God. You did.”

Ben licked his lips. “Look, after I got ambushed at your house-”

“What the hell does that have to do with it?”

“It's a post-combat thing, you get crazy.”

“What are you going to tell me-after you killed someone, you had to have sex with Sarah? You didn't have a choice? Which-don't say it-it's some soldier thing I couldn't understand. Is that it? Have I got it right?”

Ben sighed. “Alex, I'm sorry.”

And hearing those empty words, suddenly Alex hated him. Hated him more than ever. Hated him for everything he'd caused, for making Alex need him, for using the opportunity to…

“You're not sorry!” Alex bellowed, jabbing a finger at him. “You're never sorry. No matter what you do, no matter what you cause, you're never sorry!”

“What are you talking about? I just told you I was sorry.”

“Oh, bullshit.”

“Then what do you want from me, Alex? Tell me, right now, what the fuck do you want?”

“Nothing. There's nothing I want from you.”

“Yeah, well, that's good. Because I don't owe you anything. And you've never been grateful for it anyway. All you know how to do is complain, assuming you even notice what I do for you in the first place.”

“What you do for me? Jesus Christ, how can anyone be this blind?”

“Blind?” Ben said. “I'm blind? All I do is save your ass when you get in over your head. It's just like school, only now the people who are after you aren't just going to beat you up, they're going to kill you, and you think you have some kind of right to my protection, so much of a right it doesn't even occur to you to say thank you for it. Well, I'm sick of it. It's the same old shit and I'm sick of it.”

“You want me to be grateful to you because you fended off a few high school bullies, Ben? You killed Katie. You killed her. Why don't you just-”

Ben moved in so fast Alex didn't have time to react. He hit Alex in the chest with both hands and Alex flew backward into the wall behind him. His head ricocheted against the plaster and he saw stars. Ben grabbed him by the fabric of the shirt and shoved him against the wall, his knuckles digging into his throat. Alex grabbed Ben's wrists and tried to tear them away, but it was useless. He couldn't speak. He couldn't breathe. Ben was roaring something incoherent, his breath hot on Alex's face, his teeth bared. Alex drew his arm back to punch him but the wall was right behind him and he couldn't get any leverage. He hit Ben in the jaw but it did nothing. He felt his lungs spasming for air and thought, Oh God, he's trying to kill me, he's really going to kill me, and he panicked. He brought a knee up but Ben's hips were turned, his groin out of reach. He clawed at Ben's hands, then at his face. The force of the knuckles grinding into his throat worsened.

A distant part of his mind whispered, Gun. Gun. Gun.

He groped blindly for the gun in his pocket. The contours of the room seemed to be receding behind Ben's face, clots of gray creeping in at the edges of everything.

Gun. Gun. Gun…

Ben shot a knee into his balls. There was an explosion of pain in his abdomen, a burst of light behind his eyes. Ben stepped away from him and he fell to the floor, choking and retching.

Ben squatted down and pulled the gun out of Alex's pocket, then stepped away from him.

“What are you going to do, Alex, you going to shoot me? Is that what you want to do?”

Alex managed to get to his knees. He clutched his throat and his stomach and sucked in a single sickening gasp of air.

“You want to shoot me?” Ben said again. “You think I killed Katie? And Dad? And Mom? You think it's all my fault? Well, here's your chance to avenge them. Go ahead.”

There was a solid thunk on the carpet next to him. He glanced over and saw the gun Ben had taken from him.

He wheezed and fought the urge to vomit. I'll kill you, he thought.

“Come on, tough guy,” Ben said. “Don't have the courage of your convictions?”

Alex picked up the gun and pointed it at Ben's face. He imagined squeezing the trigger, imagined Ben flying backward from the force of the bullet hitting him.

“That's it,” Ben said. “That's the way. Go ahead, Alex. I'm the guy who killed our whole family, right? I did it all, it's all my fault. Go ahead.”

Just pull the trigger. Pull the trigger. Wipe that smirk off his face for good.

Ben shook his head disgustedly. “I'm not going to wait forever, asshole. This is your chance. If you want to take the shot, take it.”

Alex pulled himself to his feet, still sucking wind. He hated that Ben wasn't even afraid. More than anything, he hated that.

Then make him afraid. Do it. He tried to kill you. Do it. Katie. Mom. Dad. Do it do it do it DO IT.

The common door opened to his left. He glanced over. It was Sarah.

“Stop it!” she yelled.

Ben glanced over at her, then back to Alex. “Last chance,” he said.

“Alex, are you insane?” Sarah said. “Put the gun down. Just put it down!”

God, he wanted to do it. And the thought of caving in to his sneering piece-of-shit brother brought up a fresh wave of nausea.

But he couldn't. He knew it. And the realization that Ben knew it, too, had known it all along, was infuriating.

Without thinking, he cocked his arm and hurled the gun at Ben's head. It cracked him in the forehead and Ben went down.

Sarah yelled, “Alex!”

“Okay,” Alex said. “Now it's your turn. Go ahead.”

Ben sat up. A rivulet of blood oozed from a gash in his forehead. He picked up the gun.

“You want to kill me?” Alex said, jerking his thumbs at his own chest. “You killed everyone else. Go ahead. Kill me, too.”

Ben wiped his fingers across his forehead. He looked at the blood on them, then wiped them on his robe. “If I gave a shit about you,” he said, “I would. But I don't. We're done. You're on your own.”

He walked over to the pile of clothes on the floor, dropped the robe as though Alex and Sarah weren't even there, and pulled on his pants, then his shoes, then the buttonless shirt, and then his jacket. He picked up his bag and pulled Alex's and Sarah's cell phones from it. He tossed the phones on the bed and slung the bag over his shoulder.

“Ben,” Sarah said. He walked right past her, into the bathroom, as though she weren't there. A few seconds later he came out with a washcloth pressed against his forehead.

“Ben,” Sarah said again.

Ben paused and looked at her. “It was a mistake,” he said. “Forget about it.”

Then he opened the door and walked through it. It clacked closed behind him and he was gone.

The room was weirdly silent for a moment. Sarah said, “What the hell happened?”

“Nothing,” Alex said, suddenly resenting her. He'd brought her along just to help her, because she might be in danger. And she repaid him by fucking his brother. Alex was up all night cracking Obsidian while the two of them went at it like bunnies. Well, the hell with that. He didn't need her. He didn't need anyone.

“I'm going home,” he said. “I'll see you at the office.”

“How can you go home?” she said. “Ben just told you-”

“I don't want to hear it!” he said, more sharply than he'd meant. “Just… like he said, forget about it. Just forget it.”

He walked across the corridor to the third room to collect his stuff. He didn't care if people were still after him. He didn't care about anything. If someone killed him, it was going to be on Ben's head anyway. Just like the rest of it.