More boos came from the crowd, though there was a ripple of light applause. Ritter wasn’t alone in his view.
Capps returned to her book, particularly a chapter devoted to the invasive surveillance techniques reportedly employed by the FBI. “Internet providers cannot meet the requirements of your subpoenas—the technology doesn’t allow it—so they end up giving you far more information than you have a right to. Cyber agents like you use the extra data on innocent people you collect this way to create massive databases. The Fourth Amendment implications are striking yet you continue doing it. Why? Why are you at war with the American people?” She shouted this last question amid general hoots of approval.
“We are not at war with the American people,” the FBI agent said, but before he could continue Capps interrupted.
“Not at war! What about Carnivore? You’ve been trolling the Internet for decades monitoring e-mail, Twitter, text messages…anything you can get your hands on. You’ve built a customized packet sniffer that monitors all of a target user’s Internet traffic and you don’t care about any incidental data you garner from others in the process. What do you do with all that information? Tell us!”
“You are not immune,” Anonymous said. “We have penetrated law enforcement before. We will penetrate you!”
There were scattered cheers.
And so it went until Clive wrapped up the discussion to allow the panel to field questions from the audience. The woman next to Jeff shouted out, “What’s next for RegSec, Anonymous? Inquiring minds want to know!” She looked up at Jeff with a grin.
Laughter, then the voice from the monitor said, “We will crush them!” With that his image slowly faded into the background, leaving behind just a mocking, nearly hysterical laugh.
Following a quick lunch with Clive, Jeff settled in the speakers’ room, taking one of the tables and chairs made available for speakers to prep. He spent the next hour reviewing his PowerPoint slides and practicing the talk’s demos, occasionally stopping to chat with other speakers he knew who came in. He glanced at his watch and saw that it was after three, so he packed up.
After locating the room for his presentation, he walked to the front where a draped folding table about four feet high sat on a dais. Behind it was a screen. He placed his water bottle on the table, took his laptop from its bag, and connected it to the projector cable. Then he attached the wireless mic clip to his shirt and opened his PowerPoint. He was ready to go as people streamed in and took seats. Despite other conflicting presentations, there were about 250 people in the room. He smiled at Chuck when he noticed him sitting in the front row.
His talk, entitled “Statistical Analysis of Network Traffic: Finding the Needle in the Haystack,” was well attended, not just because he was popular in the cyber-security community or because he’d once worked for the CIA or even out of an interest in his topic. His role and that of Daryl Haugen in uncovering and muting an Al Qaeda cyber-attack on the West was widely rumored though it had not appeared in the traditional media.
Daryl was now his partner in their company, Red Zoya Systems LP. They were also a committed couple and living together, but she was in Oregon on a forensics case so he’d made this trip alone. He missed her very much despite her occasional text messages and phone calls.
Jeff began by trying out some new jokes, all techy so that only such an audience as this could relate and appreciate with laughter. He followed these with live demos of his log analysis tool. The tool digested massive log files pulling out discrete pieces of relevant information, typically source IP addresses, size of requests, types of requests, then applied statistical analysis to find potentially anomalous activity. Its effectiveness increased with the amount of data it analyzed.
The data he displayed showed suspicious activity on the anonymized logs from some of the clients he’d done work for. He stepped the audience through another of his own tools, which assisted him in locating anomalies in computer data and helped him focus on malware. When he finished there was a hearty round of applause, followed by a stage rush from those wanting to ask questions and to exchange business cards. If this was any taste of what it was like to be a celebrity, he wanted none of it.
Following his presentation, Jeff and Chuck went to the hotel bar for a drink. After settling in a booth, Jeff ordered a glass of white wine and Chuck asked for one of the beers they had on tap. Jeff asked what he was working on. There were several projects but the biggest was with Combined Technologies International.
“They’re remaking the company and have been contracting out a lot of work recently.” Chuck sighed, then took a drink before continuing. “I can’t say I like working for them all that much. Sometimes they make me feel as if I’m on the wrong side.”
Talk turned to Jeff’s current project, and though he couldn’t reveal his client, they discussed how he’d been hired to defend against a threat made by Anonymous. Chuck might guess he meant RegSec, but Anonymous routinely threatened any number of companies. Jeff asked, “You can’t really support the activities of Anonymous. They’ve caused enormous harm to companies who’ve done nothing wrong.”
“Yes, there’s been some of that.”
“It’s primarily a group of teenage script kiddies who get off on the anonymity and from feeling as if they’re part of something bigger than themselves. Even the adults associated with Anonymous are hardly grown-ups. Just look at how they pick targets and how foolish some of their so-called attacks are.”
“I concede all of that but without groups like Anonymous, without hacktivism, the trend on the Internet is toward some form of Big Brother; if not by the United States government, then by some international regulatory body that will have control of all the vital choke points. Surely you can see that?”
“No, I don’t,” Jeff said. “Computers and the Internet are evolving so rapidly and new technology is so often taking center stage that it’s beyond central control. The danger we face is from groups like Anonymous as they develop the ability to take down the Internet presence of any company or organization with which they disagree, as they access private records and make them public. Security is essential for the Internet to grow and all hacktivism is a threat to that.”
“Mind if I join you?”
Jeff looked up and saw it was Ritter. He moved over to make room. “We were just discussing hacktivism.”
Ritter had a double of amber liquid in his glass. He took a long pull, then said, “I was surprised to hear your views on the panel, Chuck. I’ve always taken you to be more responsible than that.” He ran a bare hand across his nearly bald head.
The two men had never much cared for one another and Jeff feared this could turn ugly.
“I think I’m taking the responsible position,” Chuck answered. “Someone has to keep everyone out there honest, you know? You can’t trust governments or Fortune 500 companies to do it. If they had their way you’d have to clear your Internet presence through a layer of bureaucracy, at great expense, and then be subject to arbitrary control by outsiders. We need to keep the Internet open, not threatened by governments.”
“And what about this threat from Anonymous against RegSec?” Ritter asked. “Surely you don’t support them there?”
Chuck gritted his teeth before answering. “What RegSec did was immoral. It helped destroy the financial lives of tens of thousands of innocent people. And why? To increase its unseemly profits. The company even took bailout money! As if they needed it, you know? Then did you read what Hinton did after the court verdict? It was like spitting in everyone’s face. And he publicly called out Anonymous. How stupid can you be? No, I have to say in this case I’m in agreement with Anonymous. Someone has to do something about RegSec. The government and courts won’t.”
“The government tried,” Jeff suggested.
“My point exactly,” Chuck said. “They tried. But companies like RegSec are above the law, you know? They pay Congress to make sure of that. The little people, we average people, get the s
haft.”
Before Ritter could answer, Jeff tried changing the subject. “What have you been working on, Dillon?” He immediately regretted the question.
“We’re downsizing.” Ritter finished his drink, then waved at the waiter for a refill.
“They’re outsourcing any new work to avoid permanent hires. Congress is spending money like a drunken sailor but somehow the people I work for have managed to get none of it.”
“You’re still working, though?” Chuck asked, sounding concerned. No one liked a colleague finding himself out of work, not in this economy. They might be specialized in a growing field but hard landings were all too common.
“Me? Sure.” From a CTI colleague the previous month Jeff had heard that Ritter had failed to keep up with the latest technology. This coupled with his age would make him an unattractive hire. “I guess you two heard about my divorce? Well, it caught me by surprise. I had no idea….” His voice trailed off. “At least haven’t been laid off.” He looked directly across the table at Chuck when he said that.
Chuck took it personally. “I wasn’t laid off or let go or whatever you want to call it,” he said. “I’d had enough, you know? Tell him, Jeff. You know what the Company was like then, what it’s still like. The bureaucracy is stifling, there’s no appreciation of innovation, an utter lack of foresight, and getting ahead in your career is the number one concern the moment you reach management. I knew 9/11 was coming, so did Jeff, so did a lot of us, but no one listened. Absolutely no one!”
“Sorry if I touched a nerve,” Ritter said, holding up a defensive hand.
“I won’t pretend they weren’t happy to see me out the door, you know? But every day I’m out of it, I’m grateful. I haven’t attended a meeting since then. I don’t have bosses. Sure, being on my own has been tough, I’ll admit. I think I’ve been blackballed from my contacts. But there’s plenty of work out there if you want it. What I want, what I really want, is to see some justice at the CIA. Heads should have rolled over their incompetence. Instead, the good guys were shown the door, or went of their own accord when they saw the writing on the wall, you know?”
Ritter’s drink arrived. Both Jeff and Chuck shook off another. Ritter turned to Jeff. “How about you? Going to tell us how you saved the world?” That last part came out sounding a bit aggressive and jealous, Jeff thought.
“Nothing like that. Listen, Dillon, I’m hungry and need to get going. I’ve got work to do yet tonight so let’s have dinner here. Care to join us, Chuck?”
Chuck shook his head as he slid out of the booth and straightened up. “No. I’ll see you tomorrow, Jeff,” he said pointedly, and stomped off.
Ritter stared after him with a smirk. “Something I said?”
Dinner was typical hotel fare. As they ate, Ritter said, “I was surprised to hear just how bitter and disillusioned Chuck has become. He didn’t used to be that way.”
“He got a raw deal,” Jeff said. “He was one of the Company’s shining stars and his boss was jealous, did everything he could to push him down, shove him out the door. And he is right: no one listened when he tried to warn them about 9/11.”
Jeff changed the subject and asked more about Ritter, who said he was working on counter measures for a U.S. military project. It was winding down, however, and he wasn’t certain what he’d be doing in a few months. He made light of it though. “They’ll find something for me, they always do.” He sighed, then looked at Jeff pointedly. “Not that I wouldn’t be interested in something else if it was offered.”
Jeff didn’t take the bait. Neither he nor Daryl was looking to hire anyone and if they were, Ritter didn’t have the skill set their work required. He turned to his meal without comment.
A minute later Ritter’s cell phone rang. He looked at the screen and excused himself to take the call. He returned a moment later. “I’m really sorry, but something’s come up and I’ve got to run. This should cover my half,” he said as he dropped a couple of twenty-dollar bills on the table.
“Okay, no problem,” Jeff said. Ritter hurried out. When Jeff finished he paid the check and though he wanted to leave right away, he was pulled into a gathering of young Turks in the industry. They wanted to discuss his talk in more detail and it was half an hour before he could politely extricate himself. It was nearly ten o’clock when he finally stepped outside. He wanted to spend an hour on the RegSec project before going to bed, to double-check and see if he subconsciously hadn’t come up with something else he needed to address.
Outside, away from the background buzz of the convention, Jeff breathed in the cold, damp sea air that was drifting in from off the Pacific. He reminded himself to be certain he spent a few hours at Mission Beach before leaving, though he’d prefer to have done that with Daryl. It didn’t seem they spent that much time together even though they were technically living and working out of the same Georgetown house. One or both of them was nearly always out of town.
Well, there was nothing to do about it now. He set out across the street then ducked into the alley shortcut. As he entered, he realized it was a bit dark and hesitated. But it was a wide, short distance, with splashes of dim light, so he pressed on, his mind turning to the conversations of the evening.
He agreed with some of what Chuck argued, particularly in regard to hacktivists taking a moral stand. But Ritter had a point: hacktivism was illegal and immoral in its own right and those involved should be apprehended and prosecuted. Anonymous was comprised of criminals no matter how seemingly legitimate their complaints.
But in Jeff’s own experience, the real threat to companies came from another source altogether. They simply took cyber-security too lightly, despite their exposure to near-constant onslaughts. Jeff was convinced that some form of cyber-attack that brought a major company—a high-profile name like RegSec—to ruin was what it would take to awaken them. The situation was similar to that of the nation before 9/11. A very public disaster was what it was going to take to open eyes.
The way it was now, companies played the odds, gambling that they wouldn’t be attacked, odds that were no longer reliable. The director of the FBI had put it best when he’d said in his RSA speech, “There are two types of companies: those that have been hacked and those that will be hacked. All will be hacked multiple times.” In Jeff’s opinion, the hacks were becoming increasingly dire.
As he neared the end of the alleyway, he noticed in his peripheral vision a dark figure stepping from the shadows into the dim light next to him, wearing a long coat and a Guy Fawkes grinning mask. Jeff started to react, but the man swung an object like a bat and struck him with a glancing blow to the side of his head, knocking him to his knees. The mocking face leaned down close and whispered into his ear. “Stay away from Anonymous. Forget about RegSec. It’s evil and will be destroyed. If you help their evil, you deserve what we do to you.” The figure straightened, then struck Jeff again, this time kicking him in the stomach, knocking him to the ground.
A minute later—perhaps ten minutes later, Jeff couldn’t be certain—he pushed himself to his feet. His head was throbbing. Gingerly, he felt the side of his head and found nothing wet so he knew he’d not been cut. He brushed off his clothes, then cautiously exited the alley and entered his hotel. At the desk he reported the mugging and asked for the police. The clerks were distressed and solicitous, insisting he take a seat while one brought him a cold towel. They offered to call a doctor but Jeff declined.
A few minutes later two uniformed officers arrived. The pair took his report, asking the expected questions. One was a woman. “A Guy Fawkes mask, you say? You mean with a grinning face?”
“That’s right.”
“Does that mean anything to you?” Jeff told her about CyberCon, the panel discussion, and the RegSec project he was working on. “You think some hacker did this?” she asked incredulously.
“I’m just telling you what happened.”
They completed their report, then the other officer handed him a card wi
th their contact information and police report number. “If you learn anything more give us a call. We’ve not heard of similar assaults in this area. I’d stay out of that alley if I were you.”
After they left, Jeff let himself into his room, feeling wobbly and weak. From his kit he took three pain pills and swallowed them. He leaned close to the mirror and parted his hair to examine the injury more closely. Still no blood but the knots were large and a nasty red.
He closed his eyes but experienced no swimming sensation, no nausea. In the end he decided he didn’t have a concussion and would simply get a good night’s sleep rather than go to the ER.
Still, he had work to do. He confirmed that his log file system was in place and his data mining tool was ready to process whatever it saw. With that assurance he crawled between the sheets and was immediately asleep.
Five hours later he was awakened by his ringing cell phone. “Look at our Web site,” the RegSec IT director said unpleasantly. “I can’t believe it. We’ll be taking it offline in a few minutes. This is a disaster, one we hired you to prevent.” He paused for effect, then said, “We’re already working on a replacement server. I’d like you to spend your time now determining how they got in. Finding that will be greatly appreciated though a bit late.”
With a sinking heart and single-minded determination to figure out how the attack had been carried out and who was behind it, Jeff hung up, then signed in and brought up the corporate Web site. What he saw was nearly as painful as the throb in his head. The site had been defaced.
Staring back at him was a large circle of olive branches backed by an image of the globe with a face on it. The face was familiar: a Guy Fawkes mask. Below was a message.
This domain has been seized by Anonymous under section #14 of the Internet.
Greetings Reginald Hinton.
Your recent attempts at using Anonymous as a means to garner press attention for yourself amuse us. How’s this for attention?
You brought this upon yourself. You’ve tried to bite at the Anonymous hand, and now the Anonymous hand is bitch-slapping you in the face. Now you’ve received the full fury of Anonymous. We award you no points.
Operation Desolation Page 2
