Table Of Contents
By the same author
Prologue
Chapter 1 Mr. Cronin Will See You Now
Chapter 2 What Were You Expecting?
Chapter 3 You Want Some Fries with Those Pies?
Chapter 4 Heads, You Lose, and Tails, the Banks Win
Chapter 5 Happy Birthday to You!
Chapter 6 I Have Met the Enemy, and He is Fang
Chapter 7 On Second Thought, Make that a Double
Chapter 8 Quizzing Dirk, Gently
Chapter 9 I’m Shocked!
Chapter 10 From Russia, Sans Love
Chapter 11 (Oops!)
Chapter 12 The Decider in Chief Makes Up His Mind
Chapter 13 Welcome to the Club
Chapter 14 Be Careful What You Ask For
Chapter 15 Hello in There!
Chapter 16 Come Into my Web, Darkly
Chapter 17 All Fall Down
Chapter 18 Don’t Worry, Be Happy
Chapter 19 We’ve Got to Quit Meeting Like This
Chapter 20 Cheers!
Chapter 21 Call Me Doogie
Chapter 22 What’s in a Chain?
Chapter 23 Don’t Tell Me What I Don’t Want to Hear
Chapter 24 Abracadabra
Chapter 25 Stop That!
Chapter 26 I Just HATE it When that Happens!
Chapter 27 Inside the Box and Out
Chapter 28 You Sexist Pig!
Chapter 29 Home, James!
Chapter 30 Knock, Knock
Chapter 31 Frank Gets Called on the (Red) Carpet
Chapter 32 Lights! Action!
Chapter 33 No Pain, No Gain
Chapter 34 Keep on Pump’n
Chapter 35 Message Time
Chapter 36 The Old Switcheroo
Chapter 37 Girls Just Want to Have Fun
Chapter 38 Time to Get With the Program
Chapter 39 Here’s Russ in Your Eye!
Chapter 40 New Pen Pals
Chapter 41 Muthas of Invention
Chapter 42 Squirrel!
Chapter 43 Fancy Meeting You Here
Chapter 44 Wakey, Wakey, Rise and Shine
Chapter 45 Fancy Meeting You Here
Chapter 46 Bang!
Epilogue
Acknowledgements
THE ALEXANDRIA PROJECT: Prologue
1 Meet Frank
The Blockchain Revolution
Copyright © 2019 by Andrew Updegrove. All rights reserved.
First Print Edition: January 2019
Starboard Rock press
Vinalhaven, Maine
Cover and Formatting: Streetlight Graphics
[email protected]
https://updegrove.wordpress.com/
ebook: 978-1-7337144-0-2
print: 978-1-7337144-1-9
No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to locales, events, business establishments, or actual persons – living or dead – is entirely coincidental.
The image of the plague doctor appearing on page 145 is based on a circa 1656 copper engraving of Doctor Schenabel of Rome, courtesy of the Wikimedia Commons at https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Doctor_Schnabel_of_Rome_(Plague_Doctor).png The image is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 4.0 International license, which is available here: https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0/deed.en
To my brother Steve, who has spent his life serving others
By the same author:
The Alexandria Project, a Tale of Treachery and Technology
The Lafayette Campaign, a Tale of Deception and Elections
The Doodlebug War, a Tale of Fanatics and Romantics
The Turing Test, a Tale of Artificial Intelligence and Malevolence
Available as eBooks at Amazon and in paperback at your favorite online book site as well as at http://andrew-updegrove.com/books/
They can also be ordered in paperback through your favorite local book store
The Alexandria Project, The Lafayette Campaign and The Doodlebug War are available as audiobooks published by Tantor Media. You can find them at Audible, Amazon, and wherever else audiobooks are sold
Prologue
“There’s a fine line between genius and insanity. I have erased this line.”
Oscar Levant
“There are only nine meals between mankind and anarchy”
Alfred Henry Lewis
The patterns on the screen were mesmerizing. Beautiful, even magical.
Squares silently appeared out of nowhere, multiplied, formed fractal shapes, and drifted away. Each square represented a new block of transactions. On a thousand computer systems, each block took its place atop thousands of others that had come before.
It was like watching life itself evolve before his very eyes. And it was his creation.
Our creation! the voice objected.
Yes, our creation, he agreed. It was best not to argue.
Ten years. Ten years ago, to the day, since he first proposed a new technology he called a blockchain, promising it would provide the foundation for a new financial world order. At first, only his fellow anarchists and a few libertarians knew of his discovery. When others learned of it, most laughed.
They aren’t laughing now! the voice added.
Indeed not. But with time, recognition of his genius had dawned here and then there. As well it should have; his invention was elegant and self-reinforcing, disruptive and revolutionary. Soon, scores of companies adopted it to produce what the markets now called “cryptocurrencies.” And then hundreds. Now more than two thousand. Multinational companies and governments everywhere were scrambling to adopt blockchains, casting their old ways aside and embracing the new.
And yet the secret of his identity remained secure. In all the world, only he knew from whose fertile brain this new technology had sprung.
And us! You must not forget us! a deeper voice boomed.
Yes, all of us, he conceded.
Everyone wanted to learn who was behind the blockchain. For all they knew, it was some sort of cyber wizard able to create unimaginable crypto-wealth out of thin air.
A Cryptomancer!
Why, yes! He smiled at that. A Cryptomancer. Perhaps that’s what he was. But that sounded too theatrical, too formal. Crypto, though – yes, that might do.
Yes! Crypto! We approve.
But back to the business at hand. Ten years he had waited. It was time for “Crypto” to act.
Chapter 1
Mr. Cronin Will See You Now
Frank was fidgeting.
That was hardly remarkable. He was almost always fidgeting. Especially when he was in public. The mere presence of another human being invariably left him struggling to control whatever tic his mind had most recently devised to make his life miserable.
The human being setting him a-tremble at the moment was a well-dressed and strikingly attractive receptionist. Through the floor-to-ceiling windows behind her, Frank had a breathtaking view of Manhattan far below. Perched on the edge of a couch, he struggled to hold himself
still while wondering why he was there. He was a well-recognized cybersecurity expert, so it must relate to those skills. But after that, what?
Just yesterday, life had seemed simple and neat. His most recent project had ended, and he was treating himself to a rare vacation.
For a few days, he’d even relaxed.
“Mr. Adversego?”
He looked up. “Yes?”
An austere woman in a conservative suit and dark-rimmed glasses faced him, her hair pulled back in a bun. Frank guessed she was thirty-five and wondered why she wanted to look fifteen years older. Something about her reminded him of a librarian he’d been terrified of in third grade.
“I’m Audrey Addams,” she said. “Mr. Cronin will see you now.”
Frank jerked to his feet and followed her past a dozen sumptuous, glass-walled offices. At the end of the hall, they paused outside an even grander corner office. A nameplate beside the door read Benson Cronin, CEO. Inside, a sixty-ish-year-old man sat behind a glass-topped desk the size of Frank’s living room rug. His suit was obviously tailor-made; Frank wondered how much more than a thousand bucks it had set its owner back.
Addams tapped on the door. Cronin glanced in their direction, sizing Frank up. Frank could imagine what he might be thinking: If this guy even owns a suit, I bet it cost less than my haircut.
“Welcome!” Cronin said, sliding into sales mode as he walked around his desk, a broad smile on his face and his hand extended.
“I’m Benson Cronin – call me Ben. Mind if I call you Frank?”
“Sure,” Frank said, waiting to retrieve his fingers from a thorough handshake.
“Great. Let’s sit over here.” Cronin gestured toward a couch and chairs. “Would you like something to drink? A cup of coffee?”
“No, I’m fine.”
“Good, good,” Cronin said. “So, I appreciate your making time to meet with me today. Audrey tells me you were on vacation. And pretty hard to reach, too.”
* * *
Not intentionally. But if Frank hadn’t been having breakfast that morning at one of the few places on the island with cell phone service, he wouldn’t have ended up in Manhattan at all. Halfway through his fish hash and eggs, his phone had vibrated.
“Hello?”
“Mr. Adversego?”
“Yes?”
“Did you get Mr. Cronin’s letter?”
Letter? Who sent letters anymore? Frank paid all his bills online and only opened his mailbox when the postman couldn’t jam any more junk mail through the slot.
“Uh, no. I’ve been away for a while.”
“I’ve also been trying to reach you by phone. You’ve already missed two appointments I set up for you. Mr. Cronin is a very busy man.”
“I’m sure he is, Ms. …”
“Addams. Audrey Addams. Mr. Cronin’s chief of staff.”
“Well, the wireless coverage is spotty up here. Anyway, can you tell me what this is all about?”
“I’d like you to meet with Mr. Cronin at four this afternoon to discuss blockchains.”
“Meet where?”
“In New York, of course.” There was a long pause during which Frank imagined Ms. Addams grappling with the astonishing concept that someone might not know where Benson Cronin worked. “At the main office of First Manhattan Bank,” she added.
Frank looked at his watch. “I’m afraid I can’t. You see, I’m on an island off the coast of Maine. At this time of year, the ferry only runs every other day, and the next one isn’t until tomorrow.”
“What’s the name of the island?”
“Matinahaven.”
“Where are you staying? And where are you right now?”
Frank looked at his phone in astonishment. “The Slackwater Motel. And I’m having breakfast at a place called the Harborside. Why?”
“I’ll get back to you. Stay by your phone.”
And she was gone.
Frank shook his head as he set down his phone. Now, there was a chief of staff who didn’t take no for an answer. She’d need to this time, though, unless she owned a lobster boat. And a fast one at that.
He was settling his tab when his phone vibrated again.
“Addams here. There’s a car waiting for you outside.”
“Excuse me?”
“There’s a car waiting to take you to the airstrip. If you leave right now, you can catch the mail plane.”
Frank frowned. “All the way to New York?”
“Of course not. The mail plane will take you across the bay to Fowlshead Airport. Mr. Cronin’s private jet will pick you up there.”
Seriously? “Okay … but I’ll need to stop back at the motel to –”
“No, you won’t. I’ve already spoken to Mr. Gladman, the owner, and settled your bill. Your suitcase and laptop are in the car outside.”
And once again, she was gone.
Ten minutes later, Frank was driving along the edge of a grass airstrip toward a ridiculously small airplane, its propeller already spinning. As he climbed in, the plane rocked side to side in a nasty crosswind. He started to feel queasy.
“Are you sure it’s safe to take off?” he asked.
“Landin’ were a bit interestin’,” the pilot said in a thick Maine accent. “Takeoff’s gen’rally easyah.” He shoved the throttle all the way forward.
The plane lurched ahead, gathering speed as it bounced down the narrow lane carved out of the dense forest crowding the airstrip on either side. Frank clutched the arms of his seat as the light plane lifted off. Immediately, it drifted to one side, one wing dipping alarmingly toward the ground as the pilot compensated at the controls. Goggle-eyed, Frank watched as the trees reached out to grab them.
And then they were free and rising, the broad, shining bay spreading out before them, speckled with islands and dotted with fishing boats.
“Piece a cake,” the pilot said. “You should come along when it’s thick o’ fog.”
* * *
Now here Frank was – still in the same jeans and flannel shirt he’d been wearing while eating fish hash just six hours ago – anxious to learn why he’d been summoned from the wilds of Maine into the presence of the CEO of one of the most powerful banks in the world.
“So,” Cronin began, “how much did Audrey tell you about what I’d like to discuss?”
“Nothing, actually, except that it has something to do with the blockchain.”
Which had not surprised him. All you heard about these days was the blockchain. The concept was simple although the technology was not. Traditionally, banks controlled the global financial system, acting like hubs with thousands of spokes, each spoke connecting one bank with another. Everyone trusted banks to hold assets, keep proper records, and otherwise act on behalf of their customers.
With a blockchain-based network, banks weren’t necessary. Anyone could send funds to anyone else in digital form using software they could download for free. That software would combine their individual transaction with a bunch of other ones to form a “block” of records. The software would link each package of data to the previous one, creating an ever-growing “chain” of transaction record blocks. But what if someone hacked that software and stole those digital funds before they reached their destination? How could you prove you’d sent them at all?
That’s where the clever part came in: when someone set up a successful blockchain system, others created tens, hundreds, or even thousands of identical copies of the same chain of transactions. Each chain would live on a different computer in as many different locations. With so many duplicates of the same data, everything was supposed to be much more secure. Frank wasn’t so sure about that.
“Ah – well,” Cronin continue, “Audrey tends to focus on the immediate objective, which in this case meant tracking you down and getting you here. May I ask how
available you are right now?”
The honest answer was “totally.” Frank was currently – and, he hoped, temporarily – persona non grata with the government, because his last project for the CIA hadn’t ended well. Not through any fault of his own, but it seemed everyone involved was guilty until proven innocent in the eyes of the CIA’s congressional oversight committee. Anyone at the CIA, or the FBI, for that matter, would be crazy to hire him until the inevitable hearings were over and the blame assigned somewhere else. Thankfully, his name hadn’t made the news. Otherwise, he was sure he wouldn’t be having this conversation.
“I think it depends,” Frank hedged. “What do you have in mind?”
“Well, I guess I’ll just put my cards on the table,” Cronin said. “How would you like to be First Manhattan’s new Chief Risk Officer for Blockchain Technologies? Starting immediately?”
Frank stared blankly in response. “Me?”
Cronin smiled. “I guess that was a bit abrupt. As I expect you’re aware, like every other bank, we’re adopting blockchain technology. Specifically, we’re moving all our financial processes onto something we call the Global Financial Blockchain System. For marketing purposes, we refer to it as ‘BankCoin.’”
Frank nodded. “Yes, I’d be surprised if you weren’t making a move like that. But I’d be lying if I said I was a blockchain expert.”
“Understood,” Cronin said. “But who is? It’s all too new – as far as I can tell, everybody’s making it up as they go along. Anyway, you needn’t worry on that score; we’ve got plenty of bright people doing code development. What we don’t have is someone with your ability to step back, take a hard look at complex technology, and figure out where the cybersecurity gremlins might be hiding. Are you game?”
I certainly should be, Frank thought. I’ve been complaining for years how I never get any interesting private sector work. Now, this guy’s offering me a fancy title at a huge bank. But the same thought put him in a panic. Would he have to show up here every day in a suit and tie? They might even expect him to have an administrative assistant!
The Blockchain Revolution Page 1
