by Wolf Wootan
The tests went well and Triple Eye received a one year contract. The new communications equipment was installed, and during the ensuing weeks, the volume of the transactions—and hence, income—was increased dramatically. Contract modifications were approved. Then the DIA contract. Triple Eye was on its way. The money was rolling in, but Hatch wanted more.
Chapter 7
Maui, Hawaii
Sunday, January 14, 2001
9:00 A.M.
Hatch climbed out of bed and looked back at the naked lady in his bed. The woman was asleep on her back, legs slightly apart, and her small breasts pointed at the ceiling. Her skin was a smooth golden tan, her body slim and lithe. She was Lili Romanov, a Eurasian woman—part Russian, part Malaysian—whom Hatch met occasionally for a long weekend of fun and sex. He liked her—she was a sex tigress—but as with all of his relationships, he kept things from getting serious. Ever since Kat’s death, he had avoided long-term relationships with any woman.
The years since 1985 had been good to Hatch in all other aspects of his life. He was now a very rich man. Some said the world’s richest. It was hard to assess because all of his companies except one were privately held. He had paid back the money he had extorted from James Gramble years ago, not because he gave a shit about Gramble, but because he did not want any loose ends floating around the dark corridors of the CIA. They were his bread and butter.
He pulled on a pair of swim trunks and went to the small kitchenette and poured himself a cup of coffee. The coffee maker had come on automatically at 8:00 A.M. He grabbed his cigarettes and lighter and went out to the lanai of their thatched-roof beach cabana on Kaanapali Beach on Maui. He sat in a rattan chair and put his coffee cup on the small, round table next to the chair. He stared out at the ocean as he lit his first cigarette of the day.
Got to quit this, he thought as he exhaled. He was always quitting.
• • •
He took a sip of his coffee and the slow, rolling waves seemed to hypnotize him. His mind drifted back. There had been several distinct events that had steered him down the winding path and led him to where he was today.
The first significant event was when he had hired Cornelius “Soup” Campbell to help him build the prototype Triple Eye system back in 1984. It turned out that Soup was not only a certified genius and a topnotch system architect and designer/programmer, but he also had great vision and knew some very intelligent people.
When Hatch told him he needed a communications system so Triple Eye could expand its data gathering function, but that the initial cost seemed prohibitive, Soup Campbell told Hatch about a system that was already in place: ARPANET.
Soup gave him a brief history of the system that was someday to become the Internet. It all began in 1962 when the think-tank called The RAND Corporation began research into a robust, distributed communication system for use by military command and control people. By 1971 there were 23 hosts (or servers) linking government research centers and universities around the country.
By 1973, the first international connections came into being in London and Norway. By 1981, ARPANET had 213 hosts, and new hosts were being added rapidly—approximately one every three weeks—and the term Internet came into use in 1982. In 1986, Soup Campbell suggested to Hatch that Triple Eye become a host and use the huge resources of the Internet to transfer information from around the world. Hatch approved.
In early 1986, rumors began surfacing that the CIA would get a Cray supercomputer. Hatch met with Soup and discussed the possibility that the CIA would pull out of Triple Eye when they got such computing power. Soup had a possible solution if they acted quickly. His mentor at MIT, Dr. Robert Mills, had discussed concepts with Soup about a new approach to computer speed and architecture. What Dr. Mills was lacking was money to prove his concepts. After meeting with Dr. Mills, Hatch hired him to start a new company: Lincoln Research and Development. That move, more than any other, proved to be the beginning of the rise of the Lincoln empire. Dr. Mills would later be tagged with the nickname “Toy Master,” since he became so adept at inventing ways to build the “toys” Hatch kept dreaming up.
Using several millions of Triple Eye’s money, Dr. Mills was able to create not only a new, molecular-sized one gigahertz computer, he also devised denser and faster memories for his fast processors. By the middle of 1987—when the CIA took delivery of their Cray computer—Triple Eye had a multiprocessor system that surpassed anything in existence. Soup rewrote the operating system to take advantage of the new system, and the vast amounts of memory now available. The intelligence community clients could not come close to matching the performance offered by Triple Eye, so business grew at Triple Eye instead of waning.
By 1992, Dr. Mills and Soup Campbell had developed desktop and laptop computers that were faster—and had more memory—than any other in existence. Hatch launched Lincoln Computers, and began taking over the computer market like a hurricane. An initial public offering (IPO) raised millions of dollars that could be used by Dr. Mills to pursue other items of research on Hatch’s wish list.
• • •
Hatch’s reverie was disturbed as Lili joined him on the lanai. She was dressed in a skimpy bikini, and she had brushed her long, black hair and tied it back in a pony tail. She was a very beautiful woman. She sat her mug next to Hatch’s and leaned over and kissed him.
“I can’t believe the weekend is nearly over again, Hatch,” she pouted.
She was a flight attendant for an international carrier, and she had a flight leaving Honolulu at 6 o’clock that evening. Hatch would whisk her to Honolulu in his personal Gulf Stream V jet in time to make her flight.
In a way, as much as he enjoyed his sexual interludes with Lili, Hatch was glad it was time for her to leave. She tended to get a little possessive, and was obviously seeking a more permanent commitment from him. He was not ready for that yet.
“We have a few more hours, Lili. We’ll leave around 4 o’clock and get you to your flight in plenty of time,” smiled Hatch.
She looked at the watch on her slim wrist and said, “I can’t drink after twelve o’clock, so I think I’ll have a Bloody Mary now. Want one, too, sweetie?”
“Sure, why not? You make such a good one! Give me extra Spanish olives in mine,” he laughed.
She arose and padded barefoot back into the cabana. Hatch continued his reverie.
• • •
In 1990, two events caused another change in the direction Hatch took. The first was the collapse of the USSR. The entity that Hatch had spent his life fighting dissolved into fragments, each new nation a problem in itself.
The second was the hiring of Thomas Tenneson, a digital communications expert recommended by Dr. Mills. Tenneson began applying Mill’s computer and memory technology to the development of an advanced, secure communications satellite—as well as several related gadgets.
This solved a problem that had been eating at Hatch. The Internet was no longer a viable method for moving the massive amounts of confidential data required to feed the Triple Eye intelligence machine. Even though Triple Eye had the most powerful data processing engine in the world, the other servers in the system were slow and communication rates were generally low. Another problem was, as the Internet grew, the arrival of crippling “viruses” and the hacker. Hatch wanted more security and a lot more speed in data transfers. He believed satellite communications was the answer—satellites under his control.
In late 1993, he had four satellites in orbit, and the conversion to that form of communication was underway. Lincoln Communications was born.
• • •
Lili returned with two beautifully garnished Bloody Marys. Hatch took a sip of his and popped a Spanish olive in his mouth, then said, “Umm! Excellent, Lili! You have the touch!”
“Hot enough?” she smiled, a wicked glint in her eye.
“Yes, you are! Oh, you mean …” he laughed as he ogled her lithe body. “The Bloody Mary is just right, too!”
He lit another cigarette and exhaled slowly. Lili put her left leg up on his knee and he absently ran his hand up and down her long, smooth leg.
• • •
The crumbling of the Soviet Union was heralded as the end of the cold war. That may have been true semantically, but the emerging conflicts that replaced it were an even greater challenge to the world’s intelligence organizations: the global economic and technology wars. The era of the “digital spy” had arrived, and Hatch’s companies were better prepared to fight this type of war than anyone else. As his business volume grew, so did his capabilities. More communication/spy satellites were launched, and data gathering and processing offices were added worldwide. No intelligence organization could match Triple Eye’s ability to gather, filter, and analyze data. His main clients, of course, were the intelligence arms of the U.S., but all NATO countries were allowed to buy limited functions from Triple Eye.
The assassin’s target had also changed. Killing an enemy agent was no longer as effective as killing the enemy’s ability to access, process, and analyze data. Namely, his computer and communication systems. The new assassin’s expertise on the shooting range was less important than his knowledge of the intricacies of digital devices and what made them tick—or more importantly, not tick.
• • •
Lili wiggled her toes as Hatch’s hand rubbed the inside of her thigh and bumped against her crotch. She made a noise that sounded like a cat purring.
“That feels scrumptious!” she murmured. “Why don’t we take this inside?”
“We have time before you have to leave.”
“Are you saying you don’t want me right now?!” she exclaimed with a wicked smile.
“You talked me into it,” he laughed as he followed her into the bedroom. Her bikini bra hit the floor at the door, and the bottoms a step later. She stretched out on the bed again and he joined her, taking one of her pert nipples into his mouth.
Chapter 8
The White House, Washington D.C.
Monday, January 29, 2001
9:00 A.M.
Mr. West was ushered into the Oval Office by a Secret Service agent, who then left and closed the door behind him. The new President stood up from his desk and offered his hand.
“How do you do, Mr. West?” said the President.
“I am well, Mr. President. I appreciate you seeing me, what with your very busy schedule,” replied Mr. West.
“Well, the Deputy Director of Intelligence of the CIA insisted on it. He says you have something of great importance to discuss with me,” he said in his cheery, political voice. He was convinced that this was a waste of time, but he did not want to offend the DDI. He was new at this job, after all.
“Before we start, Mr. President, if you will allow me,” stated Mr. West. He opened his briefcase and took out a small device with a short antenna on it. He turned on a switch and began walking around the Oval Office, watching a small display.
“If you are sweeping for bugs, Mr. West, you are wasting your time. The Secret Service does that every morning,” scoffed the President.
“I know, Mr. President, but not with an instrument like this. I can tell, for example, that there are nine telephone lines terminating in this office. There are six here on your desk phone, and one to the hot phone, so there must be two more somewhere. Ah, this desk drawer here. A private two-line phone?” West queried.
“Amazing! Yes, that is my private phone. Most people do not know about it.”
“Well, everything else seems clear. May I sit down, sir?” asked West.
“Please do,” answered the President, indicating a chair in front of his desk.
“What I am going to tell you is for your ears only. You must not tell anyone else; otherwise, the benefits you can experience from what I reveal to you will be null and void. You will be skeptical at first, but please hear me out.”
“I feel like I am in an episode of Fantasy Island, or the Twilight Zone.”
West took what looked to be a blue cellular phone out of his briefcase and put it on the President’s desk. The President’s face acquired his practiced puzzled look.
West continued, “This phone, which we will refer to as the ‘Blue Phone,’ is a very special device which can be your link to a very special problem solver. Without going into technical details, this phone connects to a private communications satellite system; it is fully encrypted and scrambled so that no one else in the world, including your own NSA people, can intercept and decode its signal.”
“That’s hard to believe,” interjected the President.
“Take my word for it. Conversations you have on this phone will be completely secure. Also, to insure against the unlikely possibility that someone else finds out about the phone and tries to use it pretending to be you, your voice print will be entered into our system while I am here, so we will always know it is you on the phone.”
“This is all very interesting, Mr. West, but why do I need this phone? I have more secure phones than anyone else in the world! Are you some kind of phone salesman? I can’t believe the DDI set up this meeting!” said a very irritated president.
“No! Bear with me, Mr. President. I am not selling you anything! The Blue Phone is a gift, but its only significance is its ability to connect you to a person with great problem solving powers. You see this button? When you push that, you will be connected to ‘Bob,’ not his real name, but a man who will discuss your problems with you. He is apolitical, so politics do not enter into his decision making process. You, however, must consider the political impact, national and international, of every decision you make.”
“That is certainly true!” agreed the man behind the desk. “But I still don’t see how that helps me in any way.”
“I will try and make that clear in a moment. Another important concept to be considered here is that of ‘complete deniability.’ If you, let’s say, had a very difficult international decision to make, and what you wanted to do was the right thing to do, in your opinion, but was politically impossible, what are your options? If you do the right thing and it is found out it was you who gave the order, you commit political suicide—maybe even start World War III.”
“I have a few problems like that facing me as we speak.”
“Precisely. But let us suppose you could have a private conversation, one that no one knows you had, with an understanding person. No actions suggested, no orders issued, just a discussion of the problem.”
“You mean with someone like Bob,” suggested the President.
“That is perceptive,” smiled West. “After an interesting discussion, you’ll feel better just talking about it, and Bob says, ‘Sorry you have so many problems, Mr. President, but call me anytime.’ Then he hangs up. Suppose, just suppose, that the problem, all of a sudden, gets solved. The affected Nations are screaming their heads off, but the U. S. has no involvement. You have complete deniability. In fact, you have no idea how the problem was solved, or by whom.”
“This ‘Bob’ has the power to do things like that?”
“Some problems cannot be solved even by Bob. Or he may decide he doesn’t want to be involved. But either way, a quiet conversation can’t hurt anything, can it?”
“Just what kind of problems can this ‘Bob’ solve?” asked the President, still skeptical.
“Well, we need to get your voice print into our system for security reasons, so why don’t you chat with him and ask him that question?”
“Fine. What’s next?” asked the Chief Executive, glancing at his watch.
Mr. West picked up the Blue Phone and punched the dial button. When a connection was made, a voice answered.
“This is Bob.”
“Hello, Bob, this is West. I’m going to put the President on. He would like to speak with you.”
Mr. West handed the phone to the President.
“Hello, Bob. Mr. West has been spinning an unbelievable yarn about your extraordinary problem solving powers.
Is this entire thing a hoax?” wondered the President.
“No, Mr. President, it is definitely not a hoax. How many problems, and which ones, will get solved this way is yet to be seen. This is an experiment on my part. All I ask of you is to discuss your difficult problems with me from time to time—only the ones which you can’t solve easily. Never give me orders, or even suggestions. You should maintain absolute deniability at all times. You will never know who I am, or whether I was instrumental in solving a problem, or whether the problem merely solved itself. But sometimes, wishing a problem would go away works.”
“My, my, Bob. Very strange indeed. By the way, do you have my voice print yet?” asked the President.
“Oh, yes, quite a good one. One other security point. In the very unlikely case where you are being forced to talk to me by someone else, which means your voice print would pass, simply say ‘Robert’ instead of ‘Bob’ somewhere in the conversation. That will let me know about the situation. I can then take the appropriate measures,” Bob responded seriously.
“I suppose if that happened you would notify the Secret Service,” stated the President.
“If I thought it appropriate, but probably not. At that point I would not know who was holding you hostage. It could be a rogue Secret Service individual, or group. Just suffice it to say that I would do everything in my power to secure your safe release,” Bob answered.
“You have a devious mind, sir.”
“I said such an event was highly unlikely. I just wanted an override code for the voice print, just in case. I’ve never been burned by being too cautious. I will leave you now. Mr. West will complete your briefing, and then it is up to you. You may decide to never call me. That’s your decision. Nice talking to you, Mr. President.”
