Terminal Compromise - LightNovelsOnl.com
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It was a cellular phone exchange meaning that while he dialed the Toronto 416 area code, the call was probably rerouted by call forwarding to another location, also connected by cellular phone.
Untraceable. d.a.m.n sneaky. And legal. Technology For The Peo- ple.
Scott listened to the small speaker on his internal modem card as it dialed the tones in rapid sequence. A click, a buzz and then in the background, Scott heard the faintest of tones. Was that crosstalk from another line or was another secret number being dialed? < connection="" 4800="" baud="">>>>>> The screen hesitated for few seconds then prompted . . . IDENTIFY YOURSELF: Scott wondered what to enter. His real name? Or the handle Kirk's hackers gave him. Scott Mason aka Repo Man Again the computer display paused, seemingly pondering Scott's response. I SUPPOSE ASKING FOR FURTHER IDENTIFICATION WOULD OFFEND YOU. I'm getting used to it. Paranoia runs rampant in your line of work. LET'S SAVE THE EDITORIALIZING FOR NOW. GIVE ME THE WARM AND FUZZIES. PROVE YOU'RE SCOTT MASON. You can't keep your eyes off of Sonja's chest as I recall. GOOD START. NICE t.i.tS. So you're Miles Foster. THERE ARE GROUNDRULES. FIRST. MY NAME IS THE SPOOK. MR. SPOOK. DR. SPOOK. PROFESSOR SPOOK. KING SPOOK. I DON'T CARE WHAT, BUT I AM THE SPOOK AND ONLY THE SPOOK. MY IDENt.i.tY, IF I HAVE ONE, IS TO REMAIN MY LITTLE SECRET. UNLESS YOU ACCEPT THAT, WE WILL GET NOWHERE FAST. Like I said, you're Miles Foster. NO. AND IF I WAS, IT WOULDN'T MATTER. I AM THE SPOOK. I AM YOUR PERSONAL DEEP THROAT. YOUR BEST FRIEND. Let me see if I understand this right. You will tell all, the whole story on the record, as long as you stay the Spook? Use your name, Spook, in everything? THAT'S IT. The paper has given me procedures. I have to record everything. Save it to disk, and give a copy to the lawyers. ARE YOU SAVING THIS YET? No. Not until we agree. Then we outline the terms and go. I'M IMPRESSED. YOU ARE THE FIRST REPORTER I'VE HEARD OF TO USE COMPUTERS AS A SOURCE. WHO DEVELOPED THE RULES? The lawyers, who else? FIGURES. So. Do we have a deal? LET ME SEE THE CONTRACT. Scott and the Spook exchanged notes over their modems and comput- ers until they arrived at terms they both could live with. After Kirk, the rules Higgins had established were clear, easy to follow and fair. Scott set his computer to Save the conversa- tion. This is Scott Mason, speaking to a person who identifies himself only as the Spook. I do not know the s.e.x of this person, nor his appearance as all conversations are occurring over computer modem and telephone lines. The Spook contacted me today, through my office computer. This is his amazing story. Spook. Why did you call me? I DESIGNED THE COMPUTER INVASION OF THE UNITED STATES FOR TAKI h.o.m.oSOTO. WOULD YOU LIKE TO KNOW HOW I DID IT? Wednesday, January 20 National Security Agency Marvin Jacobs had a busy day and evening. And night, preparing for his meeting with the President. He would have a chance to make his point, and win it, with an audience in attendance. The high level bureaucrat craved to aspire within the echelons of the government hierarchy, but his inate competence prevented his goals from being realized. During Korea Lt. Marvin Jacobs served his country as 90 day wonder straight out of ROTC. A business major with a minor in civic administration did not prepare him for the tasks the Army had in store for him. Army Intelligence was in desperate need of quality a.n.a.lysts, people with minds more than marshmallows for brain. The Army Intelligence Division G-2 personnel staff poured through new recruit files in hopes of recruiting them into the voluntary program. But the catch phrase, 'Military- Intelligence,' a contradiction in terms' made their job doubly difficult. So they resorted to other tactics to recruit quali- fied people for an unpopular and often despised branch of the military: they made deals, and they made Lt. Marvin Jacobs a deal he couldn't refuse. Young Captain Jacobs returned to the United States at the end of the conflict as a highly skilled and experienced communications manager for the evolving communications technology; as antiquated as it appears today. His abilities were widely needed by emerg- ing factions of the government as McCarthyism and the fear of the Red Menace were subst.i.tuted for Hot War. The super secret NSA, whose existence was unknown to a vast majority of Congress at that time, made him the best offer from all the Federal Agencies. The payscales were the same, but the working conditions promised were far superior at the Agency. Marvin Jacobs had studied to serve as a civil servant, but he imagined himself in Tec.u.mseh, Michigan politics, not confronting the Communist Threat. He was rewarded for his efforts, handsomely. In the sports world, they call it a signing bonus. In the deep dark untrace- able world of the National Security Agency they call it All Paid Reconnaissance. APR, for short. Travel when and where you like, ostensibly on behalf of your government. If worse comes to worst, attend a half day seminar and make yourself seen. By the time he was thirty-five, Marvin Jacobs, now a well re- spected management fixture at the NSA, had seen the world twice over. Occasionally he traveled on business. For the first ten years with the Agency he traveled with his wife, college sweet- heart Sarah Bell, and then less so as their three children ma- tured. Still, although he now travels alone more often than not, he was on a plane going somewhere at least twice a month, if only for a weekend. The Directors.h.i.+p of the NSA landed in his lap unexpectedly in 1985, when the schism between the Pentagon and the Fort became an unsurvivable political nightmare for his predecessor. Marvin Jacobs, on the other hand, found the job the deserved cherry on a career dedicated to his country. It was largely a political job, and managing the competing factions of his huge secret empire occupied most of his time. The prestige, the power, the control and the responsibility alone wasn't enough for Marvin Jacobs. He wanted more. He wanted to make a difference. A very dangerous combination. "It is so good to hear your voice, Ahmed Shah," Beni Rafjani said in Farsi over an open clear overseas line. "And you. I am but Allah's servant," replied Ahmed, bowing his head slightly as he spoke. "As we all are. But today I call to say you can come home." "Home? Iran?" The excitement in Ahmed's voice was more due to the call than the news. "Why?" "I thought you would be pleased, now that the Red Sun has set." The cryptic reference to the death of h.o.m.osoto wouldn't fool anybody listening, but inuendo was non-admissible.