State of War

9

Ames was in his clean office at the mall, listening to his hacker’s progress report.

“Are you sure this is working?” Ames asked.

The programmer, whose netnom was “Thumper,” shrugged. He was a smallish man, young, but nearly bald. He wore a black Metallica tank top and gray cord trousers, with some kind of high-tech rubbery sandals, and no socks. Brilliant in his field, but socially inept. One was probably a result of the other.

“Well, so far, yeah,” he said. He had a flat Midwestern accent, nasal and on the edge of a whine. “What I put together was a six-pack, double-threes. That’s two sets of three connected programs. The first trio I set for timed release — five, then three, then two days apart. The first one was just a filler. That’s a program that infects a system then makes copies of itself until the storage medium — hard drive on your PC, memory stick on your PDA, whatever— is full. It also attaches itself to your address book and sends copies to everybody on your list. It’s not meant to be more than a nuisance, but you have to dig it out and delete it and clean out the drive. That one was on the news already. They think some hacker did it just for the hell of it. They also think they’ll get him pretty quick, which they won’t.”

He grinned and scratched his nose. “The second wave is a blanker, and it should be hitting big this time tomorrow. It doesn’t do anything except shut off your monitor. Lots of people won’t even know what it means. They’ll spend some time jiggering with their hardware before realizing it’s a software bug. It, too, will send copies of itself to everybody in your address book. Again, this one’s no biggie, but it will be irritating.”

Ames nodded. He knew all of this, of course, knew it before Thumper wrote his first line of code. Still, plans changed, so he liked to be kept up to date.

Thumper wasn’t finished with his report yet. “The third wave will be a crasher. Once it gets into your system, it will send out copies of itself, and then it will crash your drive. At the very least, you’ll have to restart your hardware from external software and do a clean install of the entire operating system. This one will cause a lot of downtime, guaranteed. In addition, a lot of people won’t have backed up everything — most people don’t, you know — so they’ll lose tons of data. Like the others, this one will spread via e-mail. Also, like the other two, it will get around the most common blocks set up to catch it.”

Thumper grinned again and leaned forward in his chair. “Now we’re getting to the good stuff,” he said. “Five days after that last one, the second three will launch. This time they will be set five, six, and seven days apart, just to mess with everybody’s head. By then, everyone will pretty much have figured out that more attacks are coming; they just won’t have any idea when. Or what, for that matter. This series will do pretty much the same kind of things as the first three. They will be written in different codes, however, so the viral and worm software won’t be able to match them to the earlier ones.”

“And this assault is going to cause problems nationally?”

Thumper laughed. “Nationally, hell. We’re talking global repercussions here. You do have to understand, though, that the better defensive software out there has holographic system capability. That means it automatically looks for a number of things, including certain kinds of activity anywhere in the OS, self-replication, or attachments to e-mail. It flags anything the watcher program doesn’t recognize. Those systems will filter out my attacks. They won’t be able to break the code, at least not right away, but they will block it from hitting their systems. In addition, they’ll sound an alarm as soon as they detect the attacks.”

He shrugged, dismissing the idea. “The important thing to remember here is how few people run the good stuff. It’s expensive, and very complicated to install and maintain. Most businesses go with the cheap stuff, and that won’t stand a chance against my code. Even better, there are still millions of boobs out there on the net and web who don’t have firewalls or virusware at all. We’ll nail almost every one of them.”

Ames was not a computer expert by any means, which was why he’d hired this guy. “What are we talking about in terms of lost time and money?”

Thumper shrugged again. “I can’t say for sure. A triple-hit like this, followed by a second triple-hit? As far as I know, nobody’s ever done that before. Historically it’s been a single virus or worm, followed a few days later by some softbrain dragfoot copycat recycling the same virus with a couple of lame code variations. My best guess would be a couple, three billion dollars.”

Ames raised his eyebrows. “That much?”

Thumper nodded. “It could be a little less, could be a little more. One thing’s for sure, though: It’ll keep the troubleshooters jumping and tearing their hair out for a while.”

Ames smiled. Since that was the point, keeping Net Force occupied, this was exactly what he wanted. “Good,” he said.

Thumper looked at him. “Your turn,” he said. He paused, waiting, and Ames knew what he wanted. He reached into his desk and pulled out a big envelope. “Here’s the second installment,” he said. “Twenty-five thousand dollars. You’ll get the next payment when I hear more about it on the morning news.” He passed the envelope to the hacker.

Thumper grinned. “Keep your TV on. I’ll be back to collect the next payment in a couple days.”

After he left, Ames shook his head. If Thumper was right and this worked the way it was presented, it would be amazingly cheap. His price for all six attacks was a mere hundred thousand dollars. Ames routinely paid more than that just to have access to the right law clerk.

Then again, men like Thumper did things like this for free. They were modern-day vandals who got their kicks out of tearing something down for no reason other than that they could.

At least in his case, Ames had good reasons for what he did. More or less…

He looked at his watch. It was almost time to take the limo to the airport. The Learjet he’d leased was ready whenever he was for the flight to Texas, and he wanted to miss the traffic.

New York was the heart of civilization. It had just about everything a man could want, and twenty-four hours a day, too. Still, the island and the boroughs were not the best places to be if you had to get somewhere on time. He remembered when there were two rush hours Monday through Friday, one before work and one after. Now, rush hour lasted all day every day.

Oh, well. So things tended to get a little hectic in the city at times. That was the price you had to pay for the other conveniences.

A few days down in Texas would be just what he needed. There was nothing like getting away from it all to recharge your capacitors. He smiled. Well, not exactly away from it all, but close enough, close enough…

Alex Michaels was headed toward the exit when he heard a strange whirring sound behind him.

He turned and saw Julio Fernandez just stepping off one of the two-wheeled Segway HT scooters. Once he was clear of it, the scooter wobbled back and forth like one of those round-bottomed dolls.

Alex remembered when those things had first come out. The creator had claimed it was going to be to the automobile like the automobile was to the horse and buggy. Well, they hadn’t done that well, but you did tend to see them in city cores fairly often these days.

The problem was not that they didn’t work. They did. He had ridden one himself, and it was fun. The initial cost was high, though, and the range was pretty limited. The first commercial ones had run… what? Seven or eight thousand? The smaller ones started out around half that amount, which meant they were a lot more expensive than old-fashioned bicycles. And while bikes were muscle powered, they had a more or less unlimited travel range. The scooters were only good for a dozen miles or so and then needed to recharge for six hours.

Great in theory, and fun to ride, but they certainly hadn’t lived up to their promise or their hype. At least not yet.

“Lieutenant,” Alex said. “What’s up?”

Fernandez pointed at the scooter. “We’re testing some new Segways,” he said. “We’ve got two HT beta models. One runs on compressed hydrogen, the other on a fuel cell. They are both supposed to have more oomph than the old battery-powered electrics. This one, the fuel-cell unit, will supposedly haul a fully equipped soldier — we’re talking a two-hundred-pound trooper with a hundred pounds of gear — for thirty-five miles at twenty miles per hour before refueling. That’s twice the electrics’ maximum range.”

“Sounds pretty good,” Michaels said.

“Yes, sir. Unfortunately, this one just died after what I figure is about five miles. On top of that, I just learned that when the power goes out, the nice little stabilizing gyroscope stops whirling around. It’s got safeties so it doesn’t slam to a stop and throw you nose-first onto the concrete, of course, but once it comes to a stop, you need to get off quick. Otherwise, you will fall.”

“So you’re not impressed, I take it?”

Julio shook his head. “The thing is, Commander, it’s a great idea, but it’s got to work. If one of these shuts down in the middle of a hike, say, I just don’t see a lot of guys in the field hoisting this sucker over their shoulders to add to their packs, or towing it behind them like a tired old dog.” He shrugged. “In other words, sir, what we have here right at this moment is your basic eighty-five-pound lawn ornament.” He touched the thing’s upright post and handlebar.

Michaels laughed. “I guess this means you’re not going to buy one for yourself anytime soon.”

“Well, actually, Commander, these things are a lot of fun, and the electric ones work pretty well, even if they don’t have much range. And there are definitely field applications where extended capacity would be very useful, mostly flat terrain stuff, of course. Now, granted, all our troopers can hike ten or fifteen miles in full gear anyway, no problem, but going twice as far at a time, and getting there rested, sure wouldn’t hurt their operational capabilities any.”

He sighed and kicked the scooter lightly, just to watch it wobble some more. “I guess you have to expect glitches with beta models. I’ll drag this one back to the mechanics and see if they can figure out what’s what. At least the manufacturer built in a motor/wheel disconnect so you can at least push a dead one.”

“Careful,” Michaels said seriously. “I hear they are rigged to blow up if anybody tries to open them.”

Fernandez chuckled. “Yes, sir, I’ve heard that, too. But I’m going to let the shop boys worry about that. That’s their job.”

Michaels watched him go, then turned back toward the door. As he reached it, however, he heard Jay Gridley call out, “Hey, Boss!”

Michaels turned back around. “Jay,” he said. “What’s happening?”

“There’s another virus making the rounds. This one is a little odd thing that shuts off your system’s monitor. From its language and construction, I’m guessing it’s from the same guy who built that first one I told you about, the filler.”

Michaels frowned. “How bad?”

“It’s nothing major, Boss, but it’ll be aggravating to a lot of folks. I have a couple of the boys working it.”

“Okay,” he nodded. “Good work. Anything else?”

“It’s pretty quiet on the electron front. Just some low-rent scams, porno, the usual. The big news is that I think I’ve figured out a way to get that fund transfer from CyberNation I’ve been tracking nailed down. I’m going to take a shot at it and see.”

“Excellent. Keep me posted.” He paused, then switched gears. “So, how’s everything at home, Jay? You’ve still got that newlywed glow about you, you know.”

The younger man grinned. “Well, I can’t complain. Saji is pretty much the perfect woman, as near as I can tell.”

Alex grinned back. “Hold to that thought, Jay. Nisi defectum, haud refiecendum.”

Jay frowned. “Which means?”

“If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.”

Jay laughed. “I hear that, Boss.”

Michaels grinned and turned away. This time, no one stopped him as he made it through the door and headed for his car.