Terminal Compromise Part 131

"This country has not had a common cause since Kennedy pointed us at the moon. We had the chance in the '70's to build a national energy policy, and we screwed it up royally when oil prices were stable. So what do we do?" His rhetorical question was best left unanswered. "We now import more than 50% of our oil.

That's so stupid . . .don't let me get started." There was an obvious sigh of relief from Chambers and Musgrave and the others.

When the President got like this, real p.i.s.sed off, he needed a sounding board, and it was generally one or more of them. Such was the price of admission to the inner circle.

The President abruptly shifted his manner from the political altruist still inside him to the management realist that had made him a popular leader. He spoke with determination.

"Gentlemen, exactly what is the current policy and game plan?"

The President's gaze was not returned. "Henry? Andrew?" Mus- grave and Chambers and Secretary of the Treasury Martin Royce wished they could disappear into the wallpaper. They had seen it before, and they were seeing it again. Senior aides eaten alive by the President.

"Henry? What's the procedure?" The President's voice showed increasing irritation.

"Sir, CERT, the Computer Emergency Response Team was activated a few months ago to investigate Network Penetrations," Henry Kennedy said. "ECCO, another computer team is working with the FBI on related events. Until yesterday we didn't even know what we were up against, and we still barely understand it."

"That doesn't change the question, Henry. What are the channel contingencies? Do I have to spell it out?" The President mel- lowed some. "I was hoping to spare myself the embarra.s.sment of bringing attention to the fact that the President of the United States is unaware of the protocol for going to war with a comput- er." The lilt in his voice cut the edge in the room, momentari- ly. "Now that that is out in the open, please enlighten us all."

The jaws were preparing to close tightly.

Henry Kennedy glanced nervously over at Andrew Coletree who replied by rubbing the back of his neck. "Sir," Henry said, "basically there is no defined, coordinated, that is established procedures for something like this." The President's neck red- dened around the collar as Henry stuttered. "If you will permit me to explain . . ."

The President was furious. In over thirty years of professional politics, not even his closest aides had ever seen him so totally out of character. The placid Texan confidence he normally exud- ed, part well designed media image, part real, was completely shattered.

"Are you telling me that we spent almost $4 trillion dollars, four G.o.dd.a.m.n trillion dollars on defense, and we're not prepared to defend our computers? You don't have a game plan? What the h.e.l.l have we been doing for the last 12 years?" The President bellowed as loudly as anyone could remember. No one in the room answered. The President glared right through each of his senior aides.

"Damage a.s.sessment Potential?" The President said abruptly as he forced a fork full of scrambled eggs into his mouth.

"The Federal Reserve and most banking transactions come to a virtual standstill. Airlines grounded save for emergency opera- tions. Telephone communications running at 30% or less of capacity. No Federal payments for weeks. Do you want me to continue?"

"No, I get the picture."

The President wished to G.o.d he wouldn't be remembered as the President who allowed the United States of America to slip back- ward 50 years. He waited for the steam in his collar to subside before saying anything he might regret.

"Marv?" For the first time the President acknowledged the presence of Marvin Jacobs, Director of the National Security Agency. Jacobs had thus far been a silent observer. He respond- ed to the President.

"Yessir?"

"I will be signing a National Security Decision Directorate and a Presidential Order later today, authorizing the National Security Agency to lead the investigation of computer crimes, and related events that may have an effect on the national security." The President's words stunned Jacobs and Coletree and the others except for Musgrave.

"Sir?"

"Do you or do you not have the largest computers in the world?"

Jacobs nodded in agreement. "And do you not listen in to every- thing going on in the world in the name of National Security?"

Jacobs winced and noticed that besides the President, others were interested in his answer. He meekly acknowledged the a.s.sumption by a slight tilt of his head.

"I recall, Marv," the President said, "that in 1990 you yourself asked for the National Computer Security Center to be disbanded and be folded into the main operations of the Agency. Bush issued a Presidential Order rescinding Reagan's NSDD-145. Do you recall?"

"Yes, of course I do," said Marvin defensively. "It made sense then, and given it's charter, it still makes sense. But you must understand that the Agency is only responsible for military security. NIST handles civilian."

"Do you think that the civilian agencies and the commercial computers face any less danger than the military computers?" The President quickly qualified his statement. "Based upon what we know now?"

"No, not at all." Jacobs felt himself being boxed into a corner.

"But we're not tooled up for . . ."

"You will receive all the help you need," the President said with a.s.surance. "I guarantee it." His words dared anyone to defy his command.

"Yessir," Jacobs said humbly. "What about NIST?"

"Do you need them?"

"No question."

"Consider it done. I expect you all here at the same time tomor- row with preliminary game plans." He knew that would get their attention. Heads snapped up in disbelief.

"One day?" complained Andrew Coletree. "There's no way that we can begin to mobilize and organize the research . . ."

"That's the kind of talk I do not want to hear, gentlemen," the President said. Coletree turned red.

"Mr. President," said Chambers. "If we were going to war . . ."

"Sir," the President said standing straight, "we are already at war. You're just not acting like it. According to you, the vital interests of this country have been attacked. It is our job to defend the country. I call that war. If we are going to sell a Computer War to America, we better start acting like we take it seriously. Tomorrow, gentlemen. Pull out the stops."

1:15 P.M., New York City

Upon returning from lunch, Scott checked his E-Mail at the Times.

Most of the messages he received were from co-workers or news a.s.sociates in other cities. He also heard from Kirk on the paper's supposedly secure network. Neither he nor the technical network gurus ever figured out how he got in the system.

The network administrators installed extra safeguards after Scott tipped them that he had been receiving messages from outside the paper. They added what they called 'audit trails'. Audit trails are supposed to record and remember every activity on the net- work. The hope was that they could observe Kirk remotely enter- ing the computer and then identify the security breach. Despite their attempts, Kirk continued to enter the Times' computers at will, but without any apparent disruption of the system.

It took Scott some time to convince the network managers that Kirk posed no threat, but they felt that any breach was poten- tially a serious threat to journalistic privilege.

Reporters kept their notes on the computer. Sources, addresses, phone numbers, high level anonymous contacts and ident.i.ties, all stored within a computer that is presumably protected and secure.

In reality, the New York City Times computer, like most comput- ers. is as open as a sieve.

Scott could live with it. He merely didn't keep any notes on the computer. He stuck with the old tried and true method of hand written notes.

His E-Mail this time contained a surprise.

IF YOU WANT TO FIND OUT HOW I DID IT, CALL ME TONIGHT. 9PM.

416-555-3165. THE SPOOK.

A pit suddenly developed in Scott's stomach. The last time he remembered having that feeling was when he watched Bernard Shaw broadcast the bombing of Baghdad. The sense of sudden helpless- ness, the foreboding of the unknown. Or perhaps the shock of metamorphosis when one's thoughts enter the realm of the unreal.

Then came the doubt.

"Ty," Scott asked after calling him at his office. "What hap- pened to Foster?" He spoke seriously.

"True to his word," Tyrone laughed with frustration, "he was out in an hour. He said he was coming back to your party . . ."

"Never showed up." Scott paused to think. "How did he get out so fast?"