by D. B. Goodin
“Whatever, Dad.”
“Thanks, Son. I will pick you up soon.”
Rocco pulled up at the Coffee Barn and handed Louie a twenty. Rocco drove another three blocks south, then parked the car in an unmarked spot off the main road.
Two minutes later, Rocco opened the door at the top suite at 3358 Lighthouse Drive and saw Ioann waiting for him.
“Joe’s Plumbing!”
“If the wind is brisk and the shade is dark, where do I go?”
“Icelandia,” Rocco said as he tossed Ioann the keys to his vehicle. Ioann nodded, then left. After a few minutes, Rocco left the scene.
Agent Appleton reviewed Janice’s dossier, which contained a rather old picture of William Stohl. Agent Appleton reviewed it again before leaving his vehicle and entering the store.
“Greetings, welcome to Better Buy Computers.”
“Is Mr. Henry here?”
“I’m Mr. Henry,” answered the clerk.
Agent Appleton examined the clerk closely. He seemed way too young to be Stohl.
“Is Mr. Henry Senior here?”
“My dad’s at home, working on his retirement. I run the store five days a week.”
“When is he expected back?”
“He called in sick today, so no telling. What is this about anyway?”
“I’m an old friend.”
“Really? Where did you meet him?”
“Friends at the Bureau,” Agent Appleton said.
“Okay, I will tell him you came by. What is your name again?”
Agent Appleton handed the clerk an envelope. “Just see that he gets this.”
Mr. Henry Junior entered his parents’ farmhouse. It had been a couple of years since Mr. Henry Junior had been here, and the pain was still fresh. I miss you, Mom, Mr. Henry Junior thought.
“Back here, Son.”
Mr. Henry Junior entered his father’s study. Mr. Henry Senior enjoyed his privacy, and his study afforded certain protections.
“A man came looking for you today. He said you were friends at the Bureau. He also gave me this.”
Mr. Henry Junior handed the envelope to his father. Mr. Henry Senior opened it and read the handwritten note.
“I know that you are not who you say you are. Call for details.”
“Thank you for bringing this to my attention, Son.”
Mr. Henry Junior knew that tone of voice well. He gave his father some privacy.
Agent Appleton’s card was attached to the letter. Mr. Henry Senior called the number listed on the card.
“I don’t know who you are, but leave my family out of it,” he said.
“I think we need to meet.”
A loud rapping noise came from the front of the farmhouse. Mr. Henry answered the door.
“Agent Appleton, FBI. May I come in?”
Agent Appleton held out his Bureau credentials. Mr. Henry led Agent Appleton to his study.
“What do you want?”
Agent Appleton produced a copy of the memorandum that Brennen and Stohl wrote so many years ago. Mr. Henry just looked at the paper in disbelief.
“I need help identifying some malicious actors. This paper suggests that I can identify programmers by code signature. The problem is that I don’t understand the technical aspects of this process.”
“Why don’t you ask the authors?”
“The lead author is dead, but the co-author is standing before me. Isn’t that right, Mr. Stohl?”
Mr. Henry’s expression immediately changed. “Agent Stohl is also dead. I think you need to go.”
“I don’t think you understand what is at stake here. The Bureau is overwhelmed with evidence of hacking attempts throughout the country. It’s not just the large corporations either; there are lots of victims at small banks getting robbed. Even here in Milford.”
“I don’t understand why you need my help when you have the entire Bureau at your disposal.”
“I need the help of someone that can track an IP address to a physical location, which takes the Bureau days. I need a person who can get me a resource, or point me to software I don’t understand when I need it.”
“In my day, everyone knew how to do basic technical tasks, like finding an IP,” Mr. Henry said with a sigh. “Come by the computer shop tomorrow and I will help you. Now please leave.”
Agent Appleton left without another word.
Alexei scanned the latest Collective intelligence reports. He didn't like what he was reading.
“Scans and communications with known FBI servers?”
“Da,” Viktor said.
“How is this possible? Key members of The Collective's board of directors will be summoned,” Alexei said. “Given the travel requirements alone, it will be a minimum of forty-eight hours before we get everyone together in person. We need to have a meeting. I will authorize a hosted teleconference over a secure connection. Communicate the time for 6 a.m. UTC Friday morning. I know it's less than twelve hours’ notice, but this is an emergency. Notify dispatch!”
Gregor was perched in his favorite hidden enclave. From his vantage point, he could see several tourists below enjoying an espresso at a patio café. The café was a favorite because it had absolutely no security on its Wi-Fi network. It also used 802.11b radio technology, which allowed Gregor's antenna to boost his signal.
Once Gregor's impostor signal captured some unsuspecting machines, a lot of network data could be decrypted almost as fast as Gregor could read it.
Gregor was about to hit the exploit button when he received an urgent call from dispatch.
“If the sky is white, what is devoid at the end of khan?”
“Rainbow,” Gregor said.
“What is the primary key?”
“16-11-52.”
“Identity confirmed. Hold for dispatch.”
After a few clicks, Gregor was greeted by another voice that sounded far away.
“What is your C-ID?” the dispatcher asked.
“2341.”
“Operative Gobechov, you have a message. Would you like to hear it now?”
“Da.”
“Acknowledged. Hold for message.”
A prerecorded message played in Russian.
“Greetings, Comrade. If you are listening to this message, an emergency meeting of The Collective has been called by the chief architect. The meeting will occur at 6 a.m. UTC on the morrow. It is of the utmost importance that you attend. Additional instructions will be sent just before the meeting.”
The message abruptly stopped. Gregor ended the call and immediately destroyed the burner phone by breaking it in half and destroying the SIM chip.
Chapter 19
“Okay. If I agree to help, then I want something in return,” Mr. Henry said.
“Name it,” Agent Appleton said.
“A favor of my choosing.”
“We have a deal, Mr. Henry. You have my word! Before we start, I need to read you in.”
Agent Appleton produced a small tablet from his pocket and handed it to Mr. Henry for signature confirmation. After a few swipes and taps, Mr. Henry handed the tablet back to Agent Appleton.
“Show me what you have.”
Agent Appleton opened his briefcase and took out a small laptop. On the screen appeared to be a group of ciphertext.
“At first, we thought it was a standard algorithm, like SHA-512 or AES-256, but none of the agents that I know have ever seen this,” Agent Appleton said.
“Can you give me a copy?”
Agent Appleton copied the file on a spare flash drive and handed it to Mr. Henry. Mr. Henry uploaded the file to his decryption workstation.
“In recent years, I have developed code to allow the decryption of a file or a piece of ciphertext in a distributed manner,” Mr. Henry explained. “In other words, I can use many computers all around the world to help with the process.”
“How many computers do you have?”
“About fourteen servers here in Milford, anothe
r ten in data centers in Los Angeles and New York, and another hundred elsewhere I can spin up on demand.”
Agent Appleton looked shocked. “I had no idea that this could be done. I mean, privately.”
“Parallel processing hasn’t been fully realized by individuals until recently,” Mr. Henry explained.
The file was less than 1 percent decrypted. Mr. Henry frowned.
“Now I will introduce the remaining twenty-three servers to aid in the decryption process.”
Mr. Henry typed rapidly.
“There! Let’s see how long this takes. My decryption program is like piecing together a puzzle; I have sent the output of the decrypted file in progress to another monitor.”
Mr. Henry pointed to large screen on the other side of his office, on which zeros and ones appeared.
“Looks like computer gibberish.”
“Ahh, but it’s not. Let me translate.”
Mr. Henry pulled out a blank sheet of paper and began writing furiously. He wrote “192.168.1.0” and handed it to Agent Appleton.
“Do you understand how transport layer security works?” Mr. Henry asked.
“I don't. That is why I need your help.”
“In layman's terms, each computer that participates on a network needs an IP address, which can either be 32- or 128-bit. The most common is an IPv4 address, which is usually a series of numbers like this with periods between them. I'm sure you've seen them before.” He pointed to the paper. “We can trace the IP address back to a physical address, as well. Do you have a suspected IP address?”
After a moment, Agent Appleton recited the IP address of 32.210.193.52 from his notes. Mr. Henry brought up an IP locator tool.
After a few more clicks, Mr. Henry was able to give Agent Appleton the address to 302 Sycamore Lane, Milford.
"Consider this an address of interest," Mr. Henry said. “What else do you need help with?”
“I need to understand how these code patterns work. How can I find out who wrote a particular piece of code?”
“Wait here.”
Mr. Henry left the office for several minutes, then returned with a red USB flash drive.
“I’ve developed a scanner that will identify these unique patterns, but doing the leg work is up to you.”
Mr. Henry provided a brief demonstration of how his program worked, then handed it to Agent Appleton.
Gregor wasn't satisfied with the progress the FBI had made in apprehending Nigel, so he decided to make things a little more interesting. After the usual precautions were taken, Gregor navigated the Dark Web for a forum called the Black Iris. The site was popular, not because it was a gambling site, but because it was an online bounty board. Gregor clicked on the link and was directed to a blank page.
“Damn, why isn't it working?” Gregor yelled.
This outburst woke Dunya, who had fallen asleep on the couch in Gregor's apartment. She stumbled in the general direction of the bedroom. Gregor found his mind drifting to the pleasant memory of a night of dancing, booze, and...other things.
Gregor scolded himself for his brief distraction. He really needed to find the Black Iris.
After a lot of searching on various Dark Web sites, Gregor had an epiphany. The location of the site was seasonal. Black Iris site administration was paranoid of a site takedown. The solution involved granting premium members with a way to easily learn the site location.
Gregor had been given a small rectangular piece of equipment with a fingerprint reader; he quickly located it and launched the program. He was greeted with a black screen with a single sentence that read, “Place finger in correct position.” A series of numbers that counted down from twenty appeared. After two attempts, Gregor was able to unlock the updated URL and access information. The procedure was nerve wracking because after three attempts the device would deactivate.
A few minutes later, he carefully typed in the random string of letters and numbers that allowed site access. Although it had been a long time since Gregor accessed the site, he remembered the gray-on-black image of an iris. Underneath the iris was a vine made of barbed wire. “There it is,” Gregor said as he clicked on the “Submit Bounty” link.
The page was a standard form that asked several questions about the bounty that was to be placed: name or online persona and last known physical statistics, such as appearance, address, known haunts, associates, and other information that could help with a positive match.
The Required Proof section of the page was particularly interesting to Gregor because a number of non-standard options were available. For instance, the standard option was a photo or video upload. However, for an additional fee, other more interesting options were made available—such as dismemberment or “souvenirs.” Gregor dismissed it all. He was on a strict timetable. A standard approach was better suited for his needs.
Gregor knew almost everything about Nigel: his full name, address, school, online activity. He also had detailed information on all of his known associates. Once he was satisfied, he clicked on the submit button. A Digibit wallet address appeared with the amount of 5.516DB. Additional payments would be required upon the acceptance of a suitable bounty hunter. Gregor immediately sent the payment and shut down the connection.
Since the attempt on his life, Nigel had been on edge. He often felt like he was being watched, especially when alone, or at night. His work for Collective Systems and his character-leveling business both came to a halt.
Nigel was considering going to a doctor when he looked at his phone. Ten messages. Two from Milo, three from Jake, one from his mother, four from Collective Systems, and one last message from Jet. Nigel immediately opened Jet’s.
“Dear Nigel, sorry that I have been out of touch this past week. It breaks my heart to tell you this, but my parents have decided to move out of the area. My father has insisted that I don’t associate with my friends in Milford until the psycho that tried to kill us is captured. I hope we will be able to see each other again soon, but for the time being it is not possible. You will always be in my heart. Yours truly, Jet.”
Nigel couldn’t swallow for several seconds.
Her parents took her away! he thought. I’m going to find who did this, even if the cops can’t!
It took Nigel a long time before he checked his other messages. He opened the message from Milo.
“Hey, Nige! How are you feeling? Hear from Jet? Give me a call if you want to talk.”
The message from Jake was less menacing than he would have thought.
“Hey, Nigel, just wanted to see how you were doing. I haven’t seen you around school, and I just learned what happened. Don’t worry about leveling the characters to max, just give me what you have. No hurry though. BTW…How are you feeling?”
Nigel was astonished by Jake’s message. He was expecting more threats.
I will take all the good luck I can get, Nigel thought.
Nigel opened the messages from Collective Systems. Three were job offers. The fourth was from Natasha.
“Nigel, I’m concerned that you haven’t accepted a task in over a week. Is there a problem I can help you with? Please call me. It is imperative that I speak with you.”
After two days of twenty-four computers utilizing hundreds of core processors, Mr. Henry received an alert that the decryption process was completed.
Mr. Henry underestimated how long it would take to decode the blob of ciphertext that Agent Appleton gave him. The size of the file wasn’t very large, but its encryption algorithm was based on SHA-256, an older but effective form of encryption.
The payload consisted of a folder archive with some source code and some sort of log. Mr. Henry proceeded to run it through his analysis program. The output suggested that multiple people contributed to the code.
Mr. Henry called Agent Appleton.
“I think you need to get over here right away.”
“What did you find?”
“Several things, but I’d rather not talk on the pho
ne.”
“I can be there in the late afternoon.”
“Get here as soon as you can!”
As Nigel was checking messages, Natasha called.
“Hello?”
“Nigel!”
“Sorry I haven’t been in touch. I had a...family emergency to deal with.”
“I hope it’s not something serious?”
Nigel couldn't answer.
“Nigel, you there?”
“Yes,” he said, sobbing.
“I think we need to meet up. I’m about an hour from your location.”
“Okay.”
Nigel was too choked up to say much of anything. The doctors at the hospital encouraged him to talk about his feelings with a psychiatrist, but he didn’t feel comfortable talking to strangers about his recent experiences. He needed a friend now more than ever.
About forty-five minutes later, Natasha knocked on Nigel’s front door.
“I think we should talk in the car.”
Nigel followed Natasha to a large sedan with tinted windows. Rocky was standing near the rear of the car with the door open.
“You haven’t acknowledged any of your assignments or communicated with us in almost a week. I thought something might have happened to you!” Natasha said.
“My friends and I nearly died.”
“Was there an accident?”
“Someone tried to kill us.”
“What? How?”
“Someone attempted to shoot us. My friend Milo pulled me out of the way just in time, then my friend Jet threw herself on me to get me out of the gunfire. I still can’t believe she did that. Violence is so rare in Milford. A detective grilled me for hours. I was treated like a suspect; it was awful.”
Natasha said nothing for a long time.
“So the shooter is still at large?”
“Yes. The police said they have some leads, but I haven’t heard anything in several days.”
“Take as much time as you need. There is no hurry to return to work; your place in the program is secure.”
