The Art of Deception Part 13

"I didn't say B, I said E."

"Oh, d.a.m.n. Wait a minute."

Another pause while he again looked up the codes.

"E is 9697."

"9697--right. I'll have the fax on the way. Okay?"

"Sure. Thanks."

Walter's Call "Industrial Federal Bank, this is Walter."

"Hey, Walter, it's Bob Grabowski in Studio City, branch 38," the caller said. "I need you to pull a sig card on a customer account and fax it to me." The sig card, or signature card, has more than just the customer's signature on it; it also has identifying information, familiar items such as the social security number, date of birth, mother's maiden name, and sometimes even a driver's license number. Very handy to a social engineer.

"Sure thing. What's Code C?"

"Another teller is using my computer right now," the caller said. "But I just used B and E, and I remember those. Ask me one of those."

"Okay, what's E?"

"E is 9697."

A few minutes later, Walter faxed the sig card as requested.

Donna Plaice's Call "Hi, this is Mr. Anselmo."

"How can I help you today?"

"What's that 800 number I'm supposed to call when I want to see if a deposit has been credited yet?"

"You're a customer of the bank?"

"Yes, and I haven't used the number in a while and now I don't know where I wrote it down."

"The number is 800-555-8600."

"Okay, thanks."

Vince Capelli's Tale The son of a Spokane street cop, Vince knew from an early age that he wasn't going to spend his life slaving long hours and risking his neck for minimum wage. His two main goals in life became getting out of Spokane, and going into business for himself. The laughter of his homies all through high school only fired him up all the more--they thought it was hilarious that he was so busted on starting his own business but had no idea what business it might be.

Secretly Vince knew they were right. The only thing he was good at was playing catcher on the high school baseball team. But not good enough to capture a college scholars.h.i.+p, no way good enough for professional baseball. So what business was he going to be able to start?

One thing the guys in Vince's group never quite figured out: Anything one of them had---a new switchblade knife, a nifty pair of warm gloves, a s.e.xy new girlfriend if Vince admired it, before long the item was his. He didn't steal it, or sneak behind anybody's back; he didn't have to. The guy who had it would give it up willingly, and then wonder afterward how it had happened. Even asking Vince wouldn't have gotten you anywhere: He didn't know himself.

People just seemed to let him have whatever he wanted.

Vince Capelli was a social engineer from an early age, even though he had never heard the term.

His friends stopped laughing once they all had high school diplomas in hand.

While the others slogged around town looking for jobs where you didn't have to say "Do you want fries with that?" Vince's dad sent him off to talk to an old cop pal who had left the force to start his own private investigation business in San Francisco. He quickly spotted Vince's talent for the work, and took him on.

That was six years ago. He hated the part about getting the goods on unfaithful spouses, which involved achingly dull hours of sitting and watching, but felt continually challenged by a.s.signments to dig up a.s.set information for attorneys trying to figure out if some miserable stiff was rich enough to be worth suing.

These a.s.signments gave him plenty of chances to use his wits.

Like the time he had to look into the bank accounts of a guy named Joe Markowitz. Joe had maybe worked a shady deal on a one-time friend of his, which friend now wanted to know, if he sued, was Markowitz flush enough that the friend might get some of his money back?

Vince's first step would be to find out at least one, but preferably two, of the bank's security codes for the day. That sounds like a nearly impossible challenge: What on earth would induce a bank employee to knock a c.h.i.n.k in his own security system? Ask yourself--if you wanted to do this, would you have any idea of how to go about it? challenge: What on earth would induce a bank employee to knock a c.h.i.n.k in his own security system? Ask yourself--if you wanted to do this, would you have any idea of how to go about it?

For people like Vince, it's too easy.

People trust you if you know the inside lingo of their job and their company. It's like showing you belong to their inner circle. It's like a secret handshake.

I didn't need much of that for a job like this. Definitely not brain surgery. All's I needed to get started was a branch number. When I dialed the Beacon Street office in Buffalo, the guy that answered sounded like a teller.

"This is Tim Ackerman," I said. Any name would do, he wasn't going to write it down. "What's the branch number there?"

"The phone number or the branch number, he wanted to know, which was pretty stupid because I had just dialed the phone number, hadn't I? "Branch number."

"3182," he said. Just like that. No, "Whad'ya wanna know for?" or anything.

'Cause it's not sensitive information, it's written on just about every piece of paper they use.

Step Two, call the branch where my target did his banking, get the name of one of their people, and find out when the person would be out for lunch. Angela.

Leaves at 12:30. So far, so good.

Step Three, call back to the same branch during Angela's lunch break, say I'm calling from branch number such-and-such in Boston, Angela needs this information faxed, gimme a code for the day. This is the tricky part; it's where the rubber meets the road. If I was making up a test to be a social engineer, I'd put something like this on it, where your victim gets suspicious--for good reason-- and you still stick in there until you break him down and get the information you need. You can't do that by reciting lines from a script or learning a routine, you got to be able to read your victim, catch his mood, play him like landing a fish where you let out a little line and reel in, let out and reel in. Until you get him in the net and flop him into the boat, splat!

So I landed him and had one of the codes for the day. A big step. With most banks, one is all they use, so I would've been home flee. Industrial Federal Bank uses five, so having just one out of five is long odds. With two out of five, I'd have a much better chance of getting through the next act of this little drama. I love that part about "I didn't say B, I said E." When it works, it's beautiful. And it works most of the time. act of this little drama. I love that part about "I didn't say B, I said E." When it works, it's beautiful. And it works most of the time.

Getting a third one would have been even better. I've actually managed to get three on a single call--"B," "D," and "E" sound so much alike that you can claim they misunderstood you again. But you have to be talking to somebody who's a real pushover. This man wasn't. I'd go with two.

The day codes would be my trump to get the signature card. I call, and the guy asks for a code. C he wants, and I've only got B and E. But it's not the end of the world. You gotta stay cool at a moment like this, sound confident, keep right on going, Real smooth, I played him with the one about, "Somebody's using my computer, ask me one of these others."

We're all employees of the same company, we're all in this together, make it easy on the guy--that's what you're hoping the victim is thinking at a moment like this.

And he played it right by the script. He took one of the choices I offered, I gave him the right answer, he sent the fax of the sig card.

Almost home. One more call gave me the 800 number that customers use for the automated service where an electronic voice reads you off the information you ask for. From the sig card, I had all of my target's account numbers and his PIN number, because that bank used the first five or last four digits of the social security number. Pen in hand, I called the 800 number and after a few minutes of pus.h.i.+ng b.u.t.tons, I had the latest balance in all four of the guy's accounts, and just for good measure, his most recent deposits and withdrawals in each.

Everything my client had asked for and more. I always like to give a little extra for good measure. Keep the clients happy. After all, repeat business is what keeps an operation going, right?

a.n.a.lyzing the Con The key to this entire episode was obtaining the all-important day codes, and to do that the attacker, Vince, used several different techniques.

He began with a little verbal arm-twisting when Louis proved reluctant to give him a code. Louis was right to be suspicious--the codes are designed to be used in the opposite direction. He knew that in the usual flow of things, the unknown caller would be giving him a security code. This was the critical moment for Vince, he hinge on which the entire success of his effort depended.

In the face of Louis's suspicion, Vince simply laid it on with manipulation, using an appeal to sympathy ("going to the doctor"), and pressure ("I've got a stack to do, it's almost 4 o'clock"), and manipulation ("Tell her you wouldn't give me the code"). Cleverly, Vince didn't actually make a threat, he just implied one: If you don't give me the security code, I won't send the customer information that your co worker needs, and I'll tell her I would have sent it but you wouldn't cooperate. you wouldn't give me the code"). Cleverly, Vince didn't actually make a threat, he just implied one: If you don't give me the security code, I won't send the customer information that your co worker needs, and I'll tell her I would have sent it but you wouldn't cooperate.

Still, let's not be too hasty in blaming Louis. After all, the person on the phone knew (or at least appeared to know) that co worker Angela had requested a fax.

The caller knew about the security codes, and knew they were identified by letter designation. The caller said his branch manager was requiring it for greater security. There didn't really seem any reason not to give him the verification he was asking for.

Louis isn't alone. Bank employees give up security codes to social engineers every day. Incredible but true.

There's a line in the sand where a private investigator's techniques stop being legal and start being illegal. Vince stayed legal when he obtained the branch number. He even stayed legal when he conned Louis into giving him two of the day's security codes. He crossed the line when he had confidential information on a bank customer faxed to him.

But for Vince and his employer, it's a low-risk crime. When you steal money or goods, somebody will notice it's gone. When you steal information, most of the time no one will notice because the information is still in their possession.

MITNICK MESSAGE.

Verbal security codes are equivalent to pa.s.swords in providing a convenient and reliable means of protecting data. But employees need to be knowledgeable about the tricks that social engineers use, and trained not to give up the keys to the kingdom.

COPS AS DUPES.

For a shady private investigator or social engineer, there are frequent occasions when it would be handy to know someone's driver's license number--for example, if you want to a.s.sume another person's ident.i.ty in order to obtain information about her bank balances.

Short of lifting the person's wallet or peering over her shoulder at an opportune moment, finding out the driver's license number ought to be next to impossible.

But for anyone with even modest social engineering skills, it's hardly a challenge.

One particular social engineer--Eric Mantini, I'll call him, needed to get driver's license and vehicle registration numbers on a regular basis. Eric figured it was unnecessarily increasing his risk to call the Department of Motor Vehicles (DMV) and go through the same ruse time after time whenever he needed that information. He wondered whether there wasn't some way to simplify the process.

Probably no one had ever thought of it before, but he figured out a way to get the information in a blink, whenever he wanted it. He did it by taking advantage of a service provided by his state's Department of Motor Vehicles.

Many state DMVs (or whatever the department may be called in your state) make otherwise-privileged information about citizens available to insurance firms, private investigators, and certain other groups that the state legislature has deemed ent.i.tled to share it for the good of commerce and the society at large.

The DMV, of course, has appropriate limitations on which types of data will be given out. The insurance industry can get certain types of information from the files, but not others. A different set of limitations applies to PIs, and so on.

For law enforcement officers, a different rule generally applies: The DMV will supply any information in the records to any sworn peace officer who properly identifies himself. In the state Eric then lived in, the required identification was a Requestor Code issued by the DMV, along with the officer's driver's license number. The DMV employee would always verify by matching the officer's name against his driver's license number and one other piece of information-- usually date of birth-- before giving out any information.

What social engineer Eric wanted to do was nothing less than cloak himself in the ident.i.ty of a law enforcement officer. How did he manage that? By running a reverse sting on the cops!

Eric's Sting First he called telephone information and asked for the phone number of DMV headquarters in the state capitol. He was given the number 503555-5000; that, of course, is the number for calls from the general public. He then called a nearby sheriff's station and asked for Teletype--the office where communications are sent to and received from other law enforcement agencies, the national crime database, local warrants, and so forth. When he reached Teletype, he said he was looking for the phone number for law enforcement to use when calling the DMV state headquarters.

"Who are you?" the police officer in Teletype asked.

"This is Al. I was calling 503-555-5753," he said. This was partly an a.s.sumption, and partly a number he pulled out of thin air; certainly the special DMV office set up to take law enforcement calls would be in the same area code as the number gtyen out for the public to call, and it was almost as certain that the next three digits, the prefix, would be the same. as well. All he really needed to find out was the last four.

A sheriff's Teletype room doesn't get calls from the public. And the caller already had most of the number. Obviously he was legitimate.

"It's 503-555-6127," the officer said.

So Eric now had the special phone number for law enforcement officers to call the DMV. But just the one number wasn't enough to satisfy him; the office would have a good many more than the single phone line, and Eric needed to know how many lines there were, and the phone number of each.

The Switch To carry out his plan, he needed to gain access to the telephone switch that handled the law enforcement phone lines into DMV. He called the state Telecommunications Department and claimed he was from Nortel, the manufacturer of the DMS-100, one of the most widely used commercial telephone switches. He said, "Can you please transfer me to one of the switch technicians that works on the DMS-100?"

When he reached the technician, he claimed to be with the Nortel Technical a.s.sistance Support Center in Texas, and explained that they were creating a master database to update all switches with the latest software upgrades. It would all be done remotely--no need for any switch technician to partic.i.p.ate. But they needed the dial-in number to the switch so that they could perform the updates directly from the Support Center.

It sounded completely plausible, and the technician gave Eric the phone number.

He could now dial directly into one of the state's telephone switches.

To defend against outside intruders, commercial switches of this type are pa.s.sword-protected, just like every corporate computer network. Any good social engineer with a phone-phreaking background knows that Nortel switches provide a default account name for software updates: NTAS (the abbreviation for Nortel Technical a.s.sistance Support; not very subtle). But what about a pa.s.sword? Eric dialed in several times, each time trying one of the obvious and commonly used choices. Entering the same as the account name, NTAS, didn't work. Neither did trying one of the obvious and commonly used choices. Entering the same as the account name, NTAS, didn't work. Neither did "helper." Nor did "patch."

Then he tried "update" . . . and he was in. Typical. Using an obvious, easily guessed pa.s.sword is only very slightly better than having no pa.s.sword at all.

It helps to be up to speed in your field; Eric probably knew as much about that switch and how to program and troubleshoot it as the technician. Once he was able to access the switch as an authorized user, he would gain full control over the telephone lines that were his target. From his computer, he queried the switch for the phone number he had been given for law enforcement calls to the DMV, 555-6127. He found there were nineteen other phone lines into the same department. Obviously they handled a high volume of calls.

For each incoming call, the switch was programmed to "hunt" through the twenty lines until it found one that wasn't busy.

He picked line number eighteen in the sequence, and entered the code that added call forwarding to that line. For the call-forwarding number, he entered the phone number of his new, cheap, prepaid cell phone, the kind that drug dealers are so fond of because they're inexpensive enough to throw away after the job is over.

With call forwarding now activated on the eighteenth line, as soon as the office got busy enough to have seventeen calls in progress, the next call to come in would not ring in the DMV office but would instead be forwarded to Eric's cell phone. He sat back and waited.

A Call to DMV Shortly before 8 o'clock that morning, the cell phone rang. This part was the best, the most delicious. Here was Eric, the social engineer, talking to a cop, someone with the authority to come and arrest him, or get a search warrant and conduct a raid to collect evidence against him.

And not just one cop would call, but a string of them, one after another. On one occasion, Eric was sitting in a restaurant having lunch with friends, fielding a call every five minutes or so, writing the information on a paper napkin using a borrowed pen. HE still finds this hilarious.

But talking to police officers doesn't faze a good social engineer in the least. In fact, the thrill of deceiving these law enforcement agencies probably added to Eric s enjoyment of the act.

According to Eric, the calls went something like this: "DMV, may I help you?"

"This is Detective Andrew Cole."

"Hi, detective. What can I do for you today?"

"I need a Soundex on driver's license 005602789," he might say, using the term familiar in law enforcement to ask for a photo--useful, for example, when officers are going out to arrest a suspect and want to know what he looks like.

"Sure, let me bring up the record," Eric would say. "And, Detective Cole, what's your agency?"

"Jefferson County." And then Eric would ask the hot questions: "Detective, what's your requestor code?

What's your driver's license number. "What's your date of birth"

The caller would give his personal identifying information. Eric would go through some pretense of verifying the information, and then tell the caller that the identifying information had been confirmed, and ask for the details of what the caller wanted to find out from the DMV. He'd pretend to start looking up the name, with the caller able to hear the clicking of the keys, and then say something like, "Oh, d.a.m.n, my computer just went down again. Sorry, detective, my computer has been on the blink, all week. Would you mind calling back and getting another clerk to help you?"

This way he'd end the call tying up the loose ends without arousing any suspicion about why he wasn't able to a.s.sist the officer with his request. Meanwhile Eric had a stolen ident.i.ty--details he could use to obtain confidential DMV information whenever he needed to.

After taking calls for a few hours and obtaining dozens of requestor codes, Eric dialed into the switch and deactivated the call forwarding.

For months after that, he'd carry on the a.s.signments jobbed out to him by legitimate PI firms that didn't want to know how he was getting his information.

Whenever he needed to, he'd dial back into the switch, turn on call forwarding, and gather another stack of police officer credentials.

a.n.a.lyzing the Con Let's run a playback on the ruses Eric pulled on a series of people to make this deceit work. In the first successful step, he got a sheriff's deputy in a Teletype room to give out a confidential DMV phone number to a complete stranger, accepting the man as a deputy without requesting any verification.