Terminal Compromise · Chapter 241Vive Le Hacker!!!
This chapter is not translated yet. You are reading the original.
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Wednesday, December 2 New York City
"Doug," Scott came into the office breathlessly, "we have to see Higgins. I gotta great . . ."
"Hey, I thought you were gonna come in late today? Wire in the copy?" He looked at the New York clock on the wall. It was 9:15. Scott broke the promise he made to himself to come in late.
"Yeah, well, I underslept." He brandished a thick file of computer printouts. "Before I write this one, I want Higgins and every other lawyer God put on this green Earth to go over it."
"Since when did you get so concerned with pre-scrutiny. As I remember, it was only yesterday that you threatened to nuke Higgins' house and everyone he ever met." Doug pretended to be condescending. Actually, the request was a great leap forward for Scott and every other reporter. Get pre-lawyered, on the approach, learn the guidelines, and maybe new rules before plow- ing ahead totally blind.
"Since I broke into a bank last night!" Scott threw the folder down on Doug's desk. "Here. I'm going to Rosie's for a choles- terol fix. Need a picker upper."
When Scott came back from a breakfast of deep fried fat and pan grilled grease he grabbed his messages at the front desk. Only one mattered:
Higgins. 11:00. Be there. Doug.
Still the boss, thought Scott.
Higgins' job was to approve controversial material, but it gener- ally didn't surround only one reporter, on so many different stories within such a short time span.
"Good to see you, Mason," snorted Higgins.
"Right. Me too," he came back just as sarcastically. "Doug." He acknowledged his editor with only slightly more civility.
"John, the boy's been up all night," Doug conciliated to Higgins. He called all his reporters boys. "And Scott, lighten up." He was serious.
"Sure, Doug," he nodded.
Higgins began. "O.K., Scott, what is it this time? Doug said you broke into a bank, and I haven't had time to go over these." He held up the thick file of printouts. "In 25 words or less." The legal succinctness annoyed Scott.
"Simple. I tied in with a hacker last night, 'round midnight. He had the passwords to get into the First State computers, and well, he showed me around. Showed me how much damage can actual- ly be done by someone at a keyboard. The tour lasted almost 2 hours."
"That's it?" Asked Higgins.
"That's it? Are you kidding? Let me tell you a few things in 25 words or more!" Scott was tired and the lack of sleep made him irritable.
"I did a little checking before I went on this excursion. You bank at First, don't you, John?"
It was a setup question. "Yes," Higgins said carefully.
"I thought so. Here let me have that file. Gimme a minute," he said flipping pages. "Here it is, and yes, correct me if I say anything that you don't agree with." His curtness and accusato- ry sound put both Higgins and Doug off. Where was he going?
"John W. Higgins, social security number, 134-66-9241. Born Rock- ville, Maryland, June 1, 1947. You currently have $12,435.16 in your checking account, $23,908.03 in savings . . ."
Higgins' jaw and pen dropped simultaneously. Doug saw the shock on his face while Scott continued.
"Your mortgage at 115 Central Park West is $2,754.21. Your portfolio is split between, let's see, CD's, T-Bills, the bank acts as your broker, and you have three safety deposit boxes, only one to which your wife, Helen Beverly Simons, has access. You make a deposit every two weeks . . ."
"Stop! How the hell do you know . . ."
"Jeez you make that much? Can I be a lawyer too, huh? Please Mr. Higgins?"
Higgins threw his chair back and stormed around his desk to grab the papers from Scott. Scott held them away.
"Let me see those!" Higgins demanded.
"Say please. Say pretty please."
"Scott!" Doug decided enough was enough. Scott had made his point. "Cool it. Let him have them."
"Sure, boss!" He grinned widely at Doug who could not, for reasons of professional conduct, openly condone Scott's perform- ance, no matter how effective it was.
Higgins looked at the top pages from where Scott was reading. He read them intently, looking from one to the other. Slowly, he walked back to his desk, and sat down, nearly missing the chair because he was so engrossed.
Without looking up he spoke softly. "This is unbelievable. Unbelievable. I can't believe that you have this." Suddenly he spoke right to Scott. "You know this is privileged information, you can't go telling anyone about my personal finances. You do know that, right?" The concern was acute.
"Hey, I don't really give a damn what you make, but I needed to shake the tree. This is serious shit."
"Scott, you've got my total, undivided attention now. The floor's yours. You have up to 100 words." Humor wasn't Higgins' strong point, or his weak point, or any point, but Scott appreci- ated the gesture. Doug could relax, too. A peace treaty, for now.
"Thanks, John." Scott was sincere. "As you know I've been run- ning a few stories on hackers, computer crimes, what have you." Higgins rolled his eyes. He remembered. "A few weeks ago I got a call from Captain Kirk. He's a hacker."
"What do you know about him?" Higgins was again taking notes. The tape recorder was nowhere to be seen.
"Not much, yet, but I have a few ideas. I would hazard to guess that he is younger. Maybe in his late '20's, not from New York, maybe the Coast, and has a sense of responsibility."
"How do know this?"
"Well, I don't know, I guessed from our conversations."
"Why didn't you just ask?"
"I did. But, he wants his anonymity. It's the things he says, the way he says them. The only reason I know he's a he is be- cause he called me on the phone first."
"When did you speak to him?" Higgins inquired.
"Only once. After that it's been over computer."
"So it could be anyone really?"
"Sure, but that doesn't matter. It's what he did. First, we entered the computer . . ."
"What do you mean we?" Higgins shot Scott a disapproving stare.
"We. Like him and me. He tied my computer to his so I could watch what he was doing. So, he gets into the computer . . ."
"How?"
"With the passwords. There were three."
"How did he get them?"
"From another hacker I assume. That's another story." The con- stant interruptions exasperated Scott. "Let me finish, then grill me. O.K.?"
Higgins nodded. Sure.
"So, once we were in, he could do anything he wanted. The com- puter thought he was the Systems Administrator, the head honcho for all the bank's computer operations. So we had free reign. The first place we went was to Account Operations. That's where the general account information on the bank's customers is kept. I asked him for information on you. Within seconds I knew a lot about you." Higgins frowned deeply. "From there, he asked for detailed information on your files; credit cards, payment histo- ry, delinquencies, loans on cars, IRA's, the whole shooting match."
"I have to interrupt here, Scott," Higgins said edgily. "Could he, or you have made changes, to, ah . . .my account?"
"We did!"
"You made changes? What changes?" Higgins was aghast.
"We took all your savings and invested them in a new startup fast food franchise called Press Rat and Wharthog Sandwiches, Inc."
"You have got be kidding." Scott saw the sweat drops at Higgins' hairline.
"Yeah, I am. But he did show me how easy it is to make adjust- ments in account files. Like pay off loans and have them disap- pear, invoke foreclosures, increase or decrease balances, whatev- er we wanted to do."
"Jesus Christ!"
"That's not the half of it. Not even a millionth of it. See, we went through lots of accounts. The bank computer must hold hundreds of thousands of account records, and we had access to them all. If we had wanted to, we could have erased them all, or zeroed them out, or made everyone rich overnight."
"Are you telling me," Higgins spoke carefully, "that you and this . . .hacker, illegally entered a bank computer and changed records and . . ."
"Whoah!" Scott held up his hands to slow Higgins down. "We left everything the way it was, no changes as far as I could tell."
"Are you sure?"
"No, I'm not. I wasn't in the driver's seat. I went along for the ride."
"What else did you do last night, Scott?" Higgins sounded re- signed to more bad news. The legal implications must have been too much for him to handle.
"We poked around transfer accounts, where they wire money from one bank to another and through the Fed Reserve. Transaction accounts, reserves, statements, credit cards. Use your imagina- tion. If a bank does it, we saw it. The point is, John, I need to know two things."
John Higgins sat back, apparently exhausted. He knew what was coming, at least half of it. His expression told Scott to ask away. He could take it.
"First, did I do anything illegal, prosecutable? You know what I mean. And, can I run with it? That's it."
Higgins' head leaned back on the leather head rest as he began to speak deliberately. This was going to be a lawyer's non-answer. Scott was prepared for it.
"Did you commit a crime?" Higgins speculated. "My gut reaction says no, but I'm not up on the latest computer legislation. Did you, at any time, do anything to the bank's computers?"
"No. He had control. I only had a window."
"Good, that helps." The air thickened with anticipation as Doug and Scott both waited for words of wisdom. "I could make a good argument that you were a reporter, with appropriate credentials, interviewing an individual, who was, coincidentally, at the same time, committing a crime. That is, if what he did was a crime. I don't know the answer to that yet.
"There have been countless cases where a reporter has witnessed crimes and reported on them with total immunity. Yes, the more I think about it, consider this." Higgins seemed to have renewed energy. The law was his bible and Scott was listening in the congregation. "Reporters have often gone into hostage situations where there is no doubt that a crime is in progress, to report on the condition of the hostages. That's O.K.. They have followed drug dealers into crack houses and filmed their activities."
Higgins thought a little more. "Sure, that's it. The arena doesn't change the rules. You said you couldn't affect the computers, right?" He wanted a confirmation.
"Right. I just watched. And . . .asked him to do certain things."
"No you didn't! Got that? You watched, nothing else!" Higgins cracked sharply at Scott. "If anyone asks, you only watched."
"Gotcha." Scott recognized the subtle difference. He did not want to be an aider or abettor of a crime.
"So, that makes it easy. If you were in the hackers home, watch- ing him over his shoulder, that would be no different from watch- ing him over a computer screen." He sounded confident. "I guess." He sounded less confident. "There is very little case history on this stuff, so, if it came to it, we'd be in an inter- esting position to say the least. But, to answer your question, no, I don't think that you did anything illegal."
"Great. So I can write the story and . . ." Scott made a forgone conclusion without his lawyers advice. There was no way Higgins would let him get away with that.
"Hold your horses. You say write a story, and based upon what I know so far, I think you can, but with some rules."
"What kind of rules?" Skepticism permeated Scott's slow re- sponses.
"Simple ones. Are you planning on printing the passwords to their computers?"
"No, not at all. Why?"
"Because, that is illegal. No doubt about it. So, good, rule one is easy. Two, I want to read over this entire file and have a review of everything before it goes to bed. Agreed?" Higgins looked at Doug who had not contributed much. He merely nodded, of course that would be fine.
"Three, no specifics. No names of people you saw, nothing exact. We do not want to be accused of violation of privacy in any way, shape or form."
"That's it?" Scott was pleasantly surprised. What seemed like common sense to him was a legal spider web that Higgins was re- quired to think through.
"Almost. Lastly, was this interview on the record?"
Damn good question, Scott thought. "I dunno. I never asked, it didn't seem like a regular interview, and since I don't know Kirk's real name, he's not the story. It was what he did that is the story. Does it matter?"
"If the shit hits the fan it might, but I think we can get around it. Just be careful what you say, so I don't have to redline 90% of it. Fair enough?"
Scott was pleased beyond control. He stood to thank Higgins. "Deal. Thanks." Scott began to turn.
"Scott?" Higgins called out. "One more thing."
Oh no, he thought, the hammer was dropping. He turned back to Higgins. "Yeah?"
"Good work. You're onto something. Keep it up and keep it clean."
"No problem." Scott floated on air. "No, problem at all."
Back at his desk, Scott called Hugh Sidneys. He still worked at State First, as far as he knew, and it was time to bring him out of the closet, if possible.
"Hugh?" Scott said affably. "This is Scott Mason, over at the Times?"
"Yeah? Oh, hello," Sidneys said suspiciously. "What do you want?"
"Hugh, we need to talk."
"About what?"
"I think you know. Would you like to talk here on the phone, or privately?" Sometimes leaving the mark only two options, neither particularly attractive, would keep him within those bounds. Sidneys was an ideal person for this tact.
The pregnant pause conveyed Sidney's consternation. The first person to speak would lose, thought Scott. Hugh spoke.
"Ah, I think it would be . . .ah better . . .if we spoke . . .at . . ."
"How about the same place?" Scott offered.
"OK," Hugh was hesitant. "I guess so . . .when?"
"Whenever you want. No pressure." Scott released the tension.
"I get off at 5, how about . . .?"
"I'll be there."
"Yes ma'am. This is Scott Mason. I'm a reporter for the Times. I will only take a few seconds of his time. Is he in?" Scott used his kiss-the-secretary's-ass voice. Better then being aggressive unless it was warranted.
"I'll check, Mr. Mason," she said. The phone went on hold. After a very few seconds, the Muzak was replaced with a gruff male voice.
"Mr. Mason? I'm Francis MacMillan. How may I help you?" He conveyed self assuredness, vitality and defensiveness.
"I won't take a moment, sir." Scott actually took several sec- onds to make sure his question would be formed accurately. He probably only had one chance. "We have been researching an article on fraudulent investment practices on the part of various banks; some fall out from the S&L mess." He paused for effect. "At any rate, we have received information that accuses First State of defrauding it's investors. In particular, we have records that show a complicated set of financial maneuvers that are designed to drain hundreds of millions of dollars from the assets of First State. Do you have any comment?"
Total silence. The quality of fiber phone lines made the silence all the more deafening.
"If you would like some specifics, sir, I can provide them to you," Scott said adding salt to the wound. "In many cases, sir, you are named as the person responsible for these activities. We have the documents and witnesses. Again, we would like a comment before we go to print."
Again Scott was met with silence. Last try.
"Lastly, Mr. MacMillan, we have evidence that your bank's comput- ers have been invaded by hackers who can alter the financial posture of First State. If I may say so, the evidence is quite damning." Scott decided not to ask for a comment directly. The question was no longer rhetorical, it was implicit.
If feelings could be transmitted over phone wires, Scott heard MacMillan's nerve endings commence a primal scream. The phone explosively hung up on Scott.
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Thursday, December 3 First State Bank, New York
Francis MacMillan, President of First State Savings and Loan, bellowed at the top of his lungs. Three Vice Presidents were in his office before 7:00 A.M.
"Who the fuck's in charge of making sure the damned computers are safe?"
The V.P. of Data processing replied. "It's Jeanne Fineman, sir."
"Fire him."
"Jeanne is a woman . . ."
"Fire them both. I want them out of here in 10 minutes." McMil- lan's virulent intensity gave his aides no room for dissent.
"Sir, why, it's almost Christmas, and it wasn't her fault . . ."
"And no bonus. Make sure they never work near banks, or comput- ers ever again! Got that?" Everyone nodded in shock.
"Al?" McMillan shouted. "Buy back our stock, quietly. When the market hears this we're in for a dump. No one will believe us when we respond, and it will take us a day to get out an answer."
"How much?" Al Shapiro asked.
"You figure it out. Just keep it calm." Shapiro noted it agree- ably.
"Where the hell are the lawyers? I want that pinko-faggot news- paper stopped by tonight." McMillan's rage presaged a very, very bad day at First State.
"And someone, someone, find me that shit hole worm Sidneys. I want him in my office in 30 seconds. Now," he violently thrust his arms in the air, "get the hell out of here until you have some good news."
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Friday, December 4
RUN ON FIRST STATE AS IT STALLS ON OWN BAILOUT by Scott Mason
Since yesterday afternoon, First State Savings and Loan has been in asset-salvation mode. Upon reports that computer hackers have had access to First State's computers and records for some time, and can change their contents at will, the stock market reacted negatively by a sell-off. In the first 15 minutes of trading, First State's stock plummeted from 48 1/2 to 26 1/4, a reduction of one half its value. Subsequently, the stock moved up with block buying. At the noon bell, the stock had risen modestly to 31. It is assumed that First State itself is repurchasing their own stock in an attempt to bolster market confidence.
However, at 2:00PM, First State contacted banking officials in New York and Washington, as well as the SEC, to announce that a rush of worried depositors had drained the bank of it's available hard currency reserves, and would close until the following morning when cash transfers would permit the bank to continue payments.
Last quarter cash holding were reported in excess of $3 Billion, and First State has acknowledged that any and all monies would be available to those who desired it. In a press release issued by First State at 1:00 PM they said, "A minor compromise of our computers has caused no discernible damage to the computers, our customers or the bank. A thorough investigation has determined that the hacker was either a figment of the imagination of a local paper or was based upon unfounded hearsay. The bank's attorneys are reviewing their options."
The combination of the two announcements only further depressed First State stock. It stood at 18 7/8 when the SEC blocked further trading.
This is Scott Mason, who reported the news as he saw it. Accu- rately.
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