“Shay shay!” NØviz said and turned away.
Jasinski looked at him quizzically.
“It means, ‘thank you!’… I think,” he replied, looking a little embarrassed. They grabbed two sets of chopsticks and sat down on a nearby bench to eat.
The first bite nearly burned her mouth, but she kept eating. The noodles were all at once crunchy, soft, and tasty. Each bite had a new taste or smell, and they both grabbed and slurped eagerly.
“That was excellent!” NØviz announced when the last noodle was gone. Jasinski nodded in agreement. She had thoroughly enjoyed her first meal of real Chinese food. She hoped she wouldn’t regret their street meal tomorrow.
“We should stay up later,” NØviz said, and pointed to a nearby bar. They walked inside and waited for their eyes to adjust to the dim lighting. The motif seemed to be about Communist propaganda, which seemed ironic in a nominally Communist country.
NØviz ordered drinks and they sat down at a table in the dimly lit room. It was relatively early in the evening and not very busy, but soon all the tables around them filled up.
Jasinski was distracted by all the noise: the loud American pop music, the laughter and conversation, and an even louder periodic rattling sound. She craned her neck to find the source of the unusual noise, and saw that many of the men were shaking what looked like a small cup, and the rattling sound was made by what was inside, perhaps ice? Then she saw some look underneath and she caught sight of dice.
NØviz noticed her looking.
“Ah, they are playing drinking games,” he replied. “Probably Liars Dice.”
“I see,” she replied.
“They roll their dice and try to guess what the others have rolled. There’s lots of bluffing involved, I think.”
“And drinking.”
“Sure. Do you want to play? We could ask—”
“—Ah, no, that’s OK,” she replied. “I was just curious about the source of the noise.”
Before returning to their hotel after a few more drinks, Jasinski purchased four pre-paid mobile phone SIM cards at a small shop, and gave two to NØviz for his devices.
Back at the hotel, each hotel staff member bowed and welcomed them. One was even standing by the elevator and pressed the button for them before they could touch it.
“Shay shay!” she said, bowing back.
The next day dawned clear and crisp—a perfect day for sightseeing. NØviz seemed very animated—he hurried through his breakfast and dressed in a flash. Jasinski wished he had chosen something else to wear. Their short visit to Moskva seemed to affect his sartorial senses in a negative way. Today, he wore a blue tracksuit with a shiny finish. He zipped the top up to his chin, making it like a turtleneck. Bright orange basketball shoes completed the look. The only upside was that he didn’t appear to be into jewelry or bling. Jasinski wore a plaid skirt over black tights, a cream fleece jacket, and red beret with her favorite army boots. They didn’t exactly look like a couple.
The cab dropped them off on the northern gate of the Forbidden City, right in the heart of the city. It was too early for the tour buses, but there was a large crowd already milling about.
There were few signs in English, except for the ones giving the admission price. Jasinski knew that the signs in Chinese gave an admission price of about 1/1Ø of the price that foreigners had to pay. Everyone was either a tourist or a guide, although none were Westerners. A tall woman approached them and offered her services as a guide. NØviz negotiated for a few minutes in English then hired the woman for a half day. The guide purchased their inflated-price tickets and led them through into the park.
The next few hours were a revelation to Jasinski. The palace had magnificent beauty and splendor. In addition, NØviz was acting as she had never seen him before. He took everything in, listening intently to the guide. He would ask the guide very detailed questions and asked follow-up questions. He obviously knew an incredible amount about China. She mentioned this to him when their guide took a cigarette break.
“Yeah, I’ve always been interested in China. Did you know they had a fully modern economy nearly two thousand years ago?”
“I do now,” she replied, but in his enthusiasm, he barely paused to listen.
“Currency, gunpowder, the compass, they invented so many things! How did China fall to the British and other colonial powers? Why they fall so far?” he asked. Jasinski was considering replying but decided the question was rhetorical.
“So I guess you are enjoying yourself?”
“Absolutely! Aren’t you? I wanted to be here since I was a kid looking at picture books at school. I still can’t believe I’m here!”
“I get that,” she replied, turning away so he didn’t see her smile.
“Let’s go, let’s go!” the guide said to them as she disappeared through another door, as she and NØviz hurried after her.
At lunchtime, they bid farewell to their guide and set off through the southern gate. By now, there were crowds of tourists, but still very few Westerners. It occurred to Jasinski that since China contains nearly a quarter of the world’s population, it makes sense that the number one tourist destination in China is full of Chinese tourists. Of course, simply labeling them Chinese perhaps wasn’t exactly accurate. Jasinski was starting to appreciate the ethnic diversity of modern China.
NØviz picked out a restaurant just off a side street and they went inside. For the first time that day, she saw him pull out his mobile and get on the Internet.
She tried to digest this version of NØviz—so very different from the bored, indifferent, and irritated man she had spent over a week with so far. She was still trying to reconcile these two images together in her head when she caught a glance of his screen. She was expecting to perhaps see a page about Bubble Gum Apocalypse or some other manga, but instead it was a fan page full of comments on the outrageous hack from the other day. The strangest part was that he didn’t appear to be reading the comments, but responding to them.
“I’m going to find the W.C.,” she said, excusing herself. She stood up and walked slowly behind him to get a better look. Another glance confirmed it—he was not just responding, he was moderating the discussion. That meant it was his site—or he was an administrator, or sysadmin, for it at least. Jasinski continued on to the restroom. Upon her return, she glanced again to get the site address.
NØviz had already ordered, and tea had been served. Jasinski pulled out her own mobile and entered the site address.
The site was all about yesterday’s hack of the xenophobe politicians in Polski who had received deportation letters in the mail, generated by a clever hack of the immigration database. She had read extensively about it yesterday as it had caught her eye. The funniest part was that the letters had a phone number to call with any questions, and the number just played a series of menus and prompts and kept the politicians on the phone for hours while it recorded their swearing and complaining comments. It was amazingly similar to one that she had imagined and described to NØviz on the train to Moskva—not just similar: exactly the same!
“Ah, can I ask you something?” she asked, putting down her mobile.
“Sure.”
“What are you doing right this instant?”
“Ah, what? Just browsing. Reading. Stuff.” he replied, rapidly putting away his mobile.
“No, you were moderating comments. Comments about that hack.”
“Maybe.” NØviz was seemingly back to his bored self again.
“That Polski hack—it is exactly what I described to you on the train.”
“So?”
“So…” Jasinski struggled to put in words the conclusion her brain had reached moments earlier. “You.. that hack… you did it!” She stopped and stared at NØviz who stared back.
“Yes.”
“Yes?” she repeated incredulously.
“Yes, or do you want me to lie to you? There’s no point—you seem to have figured things out.” he replied as t
he lunch dishes arrived and were arranged on the table. Jasinski was having a hard time concentrating on anything besides these new data points which were flying around in her brain like jigsaw pieces looking for a fit.
“The others… the other hacks. The SETI hoax, celebrity texting, turnpike tolls… You?” NØviz paused and stared at her for a long moment before terminating the silence with a short reply.
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Why not? It was funny, don’t you think? Besides, it is a bit of advanced advertising.” Again, Jasinski was barely listening, as a very important piece of that puzzle seemed to have just found a fit.
“That last hack… you did that one… for me? You wanted me to know…” This caught NØviz by surprise and the bored mask, as she had now had identified it, had fallen off.
“Ah, no. I was just running out of ideas, that’s all. For you, ridiculous, no.” he replied, moving around the food dishes.
“Sure, sure,” Jasinski replied, giving the appearance of letting it drop. She was learning so much about him today!
Chapter 22.
From the Privacy and Other Mirages Blog:
What is a “stingray” and how can I avoid getting caught by one?
A “stingray”, also known as an “IMSI catcher” or “IMEI catcher” is a device that acts like a fake mobile phone base station tower, and tricks mobile phones and devices into connecting to it. This allows an attacker to discover what mobile phones are active in a given area, and also potentially to man-in-the-middle (MitM) attack their communications.
IMSI stands for International Mobile Subscriber Identity while IMEI stands for IMEI International Mobile Endpoint Identifier. The IMSI is a 64 bit number that uniquely identifies a user, while the IMEI is a 56 bit number that identifies a device. Switching SIM (Subscriber Identity Module) cards in your phone changes your IMSI but not your IMEI. Changing your telephone number or your mobile provider also doesn’t change your IMEI. As a result, the IMEI is very useful for those who would like to track or monitor you.
You would think that an IMSI catcher would be a complicated device, as it has to trick your mobile phone into connecting to it. But no, unfortunately, your mobile device is totally stupid and does not authenticate mobile base stations. Instead, it connects to whichever is the strongest in a given area. That’s really pathetic security!
IMSI catchers can be handheld, mobile in a vehicle, or even on a low-flying airplane.
What can you do? Not very much. Some clever folks are trying to develop software to detect and deter IMSI catchers, but I’m not aware of any usable code yet. Using your device only with authenticated WiFi hotspots and never connecting to mobile networks will help, as long as you trust the hotspot provider to not MitM you!
Chapter 23.
“Moscow? They went to Moscow?”
“Yes, sir. We believe they took the overnight train, arriving the day before yesterday.”
The General sat thinking hard.
“Have we picked them up there?”
“No, sir. As you know, our capabilities in Moscow these days are very limited.”
“Right,” he replied, cursing budget cuts. Did people really think the cold war was over? “And we believe he is heading to Shanghai to meet with the Red Army?”
“Correct. There is a major security conference there in a week, and we suspect they have set up a meeting then.”
“Hmm. Can we prevent that meeting?” he asked, but the look on the manager’s face gave him his answer.
“I don’t know if we can do that.”
“We must do something. And book me a flight to Shanghai!”
Chapter 24.
Ja2 #Travel is what happens when your expectations meet reality in a different place. Not all that different from getting to know someone new. #wisdomin140chars
Jasinski and NØviz spent the next hour wandering around Tian’anmen Square together.
Jasinski was surprised that they had to go through security to enter a public square. The other amazing aspect was that as foreigners, they were waved through security with barely a glance, while Chinese visitors seemed to get the third degree. Of course, this was because the perimeter was for a different kind of security—political security—and designed to prevent demonstrations or any other form of political expression in the square. While she walked around, she had a hard time keeping Internet videos from the famous protests from playing in her head. She tried to discuss it with NØviz but he wasn’t interested. As for the 1989 protests, his only comment was that “it was long time ago.” NØviz also insisted in visiting Mao’s mausoleum—Jasinski refused. The thought of it made her almost physically sick. She presumed he had visited Lenin’s Tomb in Red Square, but didn’t ask him about it.
Jasinski enjoyed the shops and stores in the surrounding areas. There were all kinds of interesting things to examine, but she found the shopkeepers a bit aggressive. She quickly learned not to pick up or examine an item, as the shopkeeper would take that as a sign that she wanted to open negotiations about the price. A number of prices would be offered, and no explanations of “I’m just looking” or “No thank you” would end the ritual. Usually, it would end with the shopkeeper shouting “Final offer” or some other mangled English and some price to her as she walked off, irritated. NØviz seemed very good at simply ignoring them as if he were deaf.
He navigated towards a tourist district just north of the Forbidden City. To Jasinski, it seemed as if they had been walking for hours but it probably hadn’t been that long—distances were large in Beijing. He explained that the area was called Hòu Hai, or 'Back Lakes' and was filled with restaurants and bars around a series of lakes. The lakes were a series of holding ponds for an ancient canal used to connect the Northern Capital with the rest of China. They arrived just as twilight fell.
Coming around a corner, Jasinski stopped in surprise. “Wow!” The small paved square in front of them was filled with a group of elderly people standing around. Then, as music began, they formed into couples and began dancing. The sight was mesmerizing as the couples sauntered around the square while Jasinski and NØviz paused to watch. Despite their age, she noted how fluidly they moved. Some smiled at them as they danced past. It wasn’t long before a very short elderly woman came up to NØviz and tried to take his hand. He resisted, just as a slightly taller man approached Jasinski with a shy smile.
She didn’t hesitate and followed his lead to the middle of the square, where they began dancing. Another woman approached NØviz, then another. Surrounded, he also acquiesced. She occasionally caught a glimpse of his non-smiling face as they passed by. Unlike him, she was thoroughly enjoying herself.
After a few songs they managed to escape and continued their walk along the lakes.
“Duck!” NØviz announced suddenly—Jasinski flinched, and almost dove to the ground.
“Why? What?” she asked, looking around.
“Ah, sorry. Peking duck—we must have the duck while we are here.” he replied, trying to hide his amusement.
“You don’t say,” Jasinski replied, gathering herself. “I thought… never mind. Shouldn’t it be ‘Beijing duck’?”
“I’ve never heard it called that,” NØviz replied, puzzled. This time it was Jasinski’s turn to be amused.
As they stood, more and more lights came on around the lake, making for a beautiful sight.
“What are you doing?” he asked Jasinski when she got out her mobile.
“Searching for the best Peking Duck,” she replied. NØviz made a face and shook his head.
“No, I have a better way. Follow me,” he replied as he set off walking. Jasinski pocketed her device and caught up with him.
They walked for over an hour, and circumnavigated two of the lakes. At each potential restaurant, NØviz would pause and observe for more than a few minutes. He seemed to be watching to see who came and went. Sometimes he would look over the menu if it had English or pictures and talk to the hostess. He w
as clearly avoiding restaurants that had Westerners as customers. Jasinski’s feet had started hurting a while back, and she was considering mentioning it when he walked up to her and spoke.
“This is it!” he said. Jasinski looked up at the building. It was illuminated by neon as were all the other restaurants. At first glance, she didn’t see anything special about it, but then noticed some Arabic writing on the top. As she followed NØviz inside, she noticed that every table was packed full, with waiters maneuvering carefully between tables. They were mostly carrying plates of Peking duck.
The hostess seated them on the second floor and produced menus, which were only in Chinese. However, they were full of pictures, so they had no trouble ordering.
They left just over an hour later, feeling very satisfied after eating some excellent duck washed down with a local lager beer. During dinner, Jasinski had asked about NØviz’s confidence to pick a good restaurant.
“Easy. Peking duck is a required element for any Chinese visitor to the capital—besides the Forbidden City, Tian’anmen Square, and the Opera. This is a big tourist area for Chinese, so I knew there would be excellent duck here somewhere, and the best place would be crowded with Chinese.”
“Makes sense,” Jasinski replied.
A final surprise was the bill—it was only a few hundred Yuan for both of them!
They decided to walk back to the hotel. They followed the lake then turned south towards their destination. There was no moon and few streetlights. They avoided the main roads, and instead walked through a series of small alleys in a very old neighborhood. The houses on the narrow streets, known as hutongs, had walls of traditional Chinese houses on either sides, with only occasional gates. Jasinski found her eyes adjusting to the darkness. The occasional red lantern provided a small amount of light but didn’t interfere with their night vision. Besides the red lanterns, everything else was grey—grey walls, grey streets, seemingly grey sky.
Returning to Zero (Mick O'Malley Series Book 2) Page 14
