Saturday, January 16
Tokyo, Japan
Dressed as business-like on the weekend as during the week, Taki
Homosoto sat at his regal techno-throne overlooking the Tokyo
skyline from his 66th floor vista. It was time. Years of prepa-
ration and millions of dollars later, it was time. Perhaps a
little earlier than he would have liked, but the result would be
the same anyway.
The first call Homosoto made was to Ahmed Shah in his Columbia
University office. Ahmed responded with his PRG code as the
computer requested.
<<<<<<CONNECTION>>>>>>
GOOD YOU ARE THERE.
I can't get too far without my man-servant.
I WANT TO THANK YOU FOR YOUR INVALUABLE ASSISTANCE. HE IS DEAD?
Yes. It took two martyrs, one is being tortured by the FBI, but
he has Allah to guide him.
GOOD. CAN YOU DO MORE?
I am at your disposal. This is not the war I expected, but I
serve Allah's will, and he is using you as his instrument of
revenge.
THE BANK CARDS. THEY ARE FOR YOU AND YOUR PEOPLE TO FUND YOUR
EFFORTS.
You speak strangely. Is something wrong?
NO, EVERYTHING IS ACCORDING TO PLAN. I EXPECT YOU WILL FULFILL
MY WISHES.
Of course, that is the arrangement. But what has changed?
NOTHING. I AM FULFILLING MY DESTINY.
As am I.
THEN YOU WILL UNDERSTAND.
* * * * *
Alexander Spiradon relaxed in his Alpine aerie home overlooking
the hilly suburbs of Zurich while watching a satellite feed of
the Simpson's on his TV. He found that he learned American
colloquialisms best from American television. They brutalized
the language under the guise of entertainment. During a commer-
cial for 'The Quicker Picker Upper', his computer announced a
call.
He put the VCR on Quick-Record and sat at his Compaq Deskpro com-
puter watching the screen display the incoming identification.
<<<<<<AUTOCRYPT CONVERSATION>>>>>>
<<PRG RESPONSE?>>
Alex entered the code displayed on his personal identification
card.
G4-YU7-%T64-666.009
<<ACCEPTED>>
Alex figured it was Homosoto since this was a very private com-
puter. His other computer, an AST 386SX with 330 MB of storage
was the one his recruits called with reports. The 25 Sir
George's of his army called twice a day. Once to get their
assignments and once to send him the results of their efforts.
They didn't have to call long distance, though, and never knew
that Alex ran his part of Homosoto's operation from Europe. Sir
George and his hidden compatriots used their untraceable cellular
phones and merely called a local phone number within their area
code. Alex's communications group had set up a widely diverse
network of call forwarding telephones to make tracing the calls
impossible. They exploited all of the common services that
helped make his and Homosoto's armies invisible.
MR ALEX.
Yes, sir.
THE TIME HAS COME.
So soon?
YES. MONDAY IS GROUNDHOG DAY.
Monday? Are you sure? With no warning?
HAVE I EVER BEEN WRONG?
No
THEN DO AS I SAY. PLEASE.
Alex started at the word 'please'. He had never seen Homosoto
ever use it before.
Of course. As you wish.
WHAT ARE THE FIRST TARGETS OF THE GROUNDHOGS?
It is complex.
TELL ME!
The reservations systems of American, Delta, Pan Am and TWA. It
will shut down air travel for weeks.
GOOD. AND?
The NBC, CBS and ABC communications computers. We
have people working in each network. Plus, we have land based
transmitters to garble and override network satellite transmis-
sions. Quite a neat trick actually. I'm impressed with the
technology.
I DON'T CARE ABOUT YOUR TECHNOLOGY. I WANT TO KNOW THAT THEY
WILL WORK. WHO ELSE?
The list is long. Groundhogs are at the Home Shopping Network,
American Express and other credit card companies. The Center for
Disease Control, Hospitals, the IRS, Insurance Companies. Within
a week, their computers will be empty and useless.
THAT IS WHAT I WANT TO HEAR. THIS ENDEAVOR HAS BEEN MOST PROFITA-
BLE FOR YOU, HAS IT NOT?
Very much so. It is appreciated.
THEN YOU WILL NOT MIND IF I INCREASE YOUR PAYMENT.
No. Why?
YOU MUST MAINTAIN THE SANCTITY OF OUR ARRANGEMENTS. NO MATTER
WHAT HAPPENS. DO YOU UNDERSTAND?
Yes. I assume I ask no questions?
YOU KNOW MORE THAN YOU SHOULD, BUT YOU ARE A MAN OF HONOR AS LONG
AS I PAY THE MOST. THAT IS TRUE.
At least you know where I stand.
WILL YOU CONTINUE?
Consider it done. How much more?
ENOUGH. MORE THAN ENOUGH.
<<<<<<CONNECTION TERMINATED>>>>>>
* * * * *
He couldn't believe it. Scott had just watched Nightline, and
who was the guest? Madonna. How ridiculous. She badly needed
English lessons not to mention a brain. He was relieved when the
call came.
WTFO?
I'm here, Kirk. You're two minutes late.
PICKY PICKY.
I had to sit through a half hour of Madonna explaining why she
masterbates on MTV.
LIFE'S A CESSPOOL. THEN YOU DIE.
You sound happy tonight.
I'M NOT EXACTLY PLEASED, IF THAT'S WHAT YOU MEAN.
What have you got?
WE'VE LEARNED A LOT. FIRST OF ALL, DGRAPH IS INFECTED.
No shit.
PROFANITY. BIG BROTHER AND FREEDOM ARE LISTENING. REALLY. WE
FOUND DOZENS OF DIFFERENT VIRUSES IN LOTS OF DIFFERENT VERSIONS
OF DGRAPH. SOMEONE PUT A LOT OF WORK INTO THIS. I HAVE NEMO AND
EVERY PHREAK I KNOW WORKING ON IT TO SEE WHAT OTHER VERSIONS
THERE ARE. AND I'M SURE THAT HALF THE HACKERS IN THE COUNTRY ARE
DOING THE SAME THING NOW. WORD GETS AROUND. BUT THAT'S NOT THE
HALF OF IT.
Continue, oh messenger of doom.
THERE'S MORE ABOUT THE FREEDOM BOARDS. I THOUGHT
YOU MIGHT BE INTERESTED IN WHAT WE FOUND.
I'm hanging on your every byte.
GOOD. FIRST OF ALL, I HAD NO IDEA HOW BIG THE FREEDOM LEAGUE
WAS. OVER 1600 MEMBER BBS'S HERE AND IN CANADA.
Is that large?
THAT MAKES THEM A FULL FLEDGED NATIONAL NETWORK. ALMOST A MIL-
LION PEOPLE BELONG. BUT THE BEST PART? THE FREEDOM LEAGUE
SOFTWARE IS FILLED WITH VIRUSES TOO.
You've got to be kidding. A million people in on it?
NO, NOT AT ALL. COULD BE JUST A FEW.
A few? How many are a few?
QUIET! THE FREEDOM LEAGUE RUNS A SORT OF FRANCHISE SERVICE FOR
BBS'S. THEY GIVE YOU ALL OF THE TOOLS AND TOYS AND SOFTWARE TO
HAVE YOUR OWN FREEDOM LEAGUE BBS. SO ANYONE WHO WANTS TO, CAN
SET THEMSELVES UP FOR FREE. FREEDOM GIVES THEM EVERYTHING BUT A
COMPUTER AND A MODEM.
And in exchange, they have to sell Freedom Software.
NOT EXACTLY SELL, SHAREWARE IS FREE TO DISTRIBUTE, IN THEORY
ONLY A FEW PEOPLE MAY EVEN KNOW ABOUT THE INFECTIONS. WHOEVER IS
DESIGNING THE PROGRAMS HAS TO BE IN ON IT.
And the franchisers, of course! They set up their own distribu-
tion of viruses.
I WOULD GUESS THAT ABOUT 100 OF THE FREEDOM BBS'S KNOW ABOUT THE
INFECTIONS.
Why, how do you know that?
GOOD GUESS. WHEN FREEDOM STARTED UP BACK IN '88, IT HAD 100
LOCATIONS.
So it was staged, set up?
MUSTA BEEN. NOT CHEAP. A GOOD BBS TAKES ABOUT $10,000 TO GET
GOING.
A million bucks. Chump change.
FOR WHO?
Just a friend. What else?
THEY'VE DISTRIBUTED MILLIONS OF PROGRAMS. MILLIONS.
Is every one infected?
I GUESS SO. EVERY ONE WE'VE LOOKED AT IS.
Who else knows.
NEMO, PHREAK PHRIENDS. IN A COUPLE OF DAYS YOU WON'T BE ABLE TO
GIVE FREEDOM AWAY. IF IT'S INFECTED, WHICH IT IS, IT'S ALL OVER
FOR THEM. THEIR REP IS SHOT.
Aren't you worried about a repeat performance on your computers?
NO. I MOVED WHAT WAS LEFT OF MY EQUIPMENT AND WE SWITCHED TO
CELLULAR CALL FORWARDING. CAN'T BE TRACED FOR MONTHS. BUT I
APPRECIATE THE CONCERN.
I'll call you. My main man is going to want to talk to you.
* * * * *
Monday, January 18
New York City Times
dGRAPH INFECTED WITH VIRUS: DGI OFFERS FREE UPGRADES.
by Scott Mason
In an unprecedented computer software announcement, DGI President
and industry magnate Pierre Troubleaux admitted that every copy
of dGraph sold since late 1987 contains and is infected with
highly dangerous and contagious computer viruses.
He blamed Taki Homosoto, chairman of OSO Industries, and the
parent company of DGI for the viruses that Troubleaux said were
implanted on purpose.
Mr. Homosoto had no comment on the allegations.
Since there are so many different viruses present in the dozens
of dGraph versions, (Mr. Troubleaux estimates there may be as
many as 500) it is impossible to determine the exact detonation
dates or anticipated damage. Therefore DGI is offering free
uninfected copies of dGraph to every registered user.
Industry reaction was strong, but surprisingly non-critical of
DGI's dilemma. In general the reaction was one of shock and
disbelief. "If this is true," said one source, "the amount of
damage done will be incalculable." He went on to say that since
the virus problem has been largely ignored, very few businesses
have any sort of defensive measures in place. Estimates are that
large companies have the most to lose when the dGraph Virus
explodes.
The major software manufacturers came to DGI's support saying,
". . .it was bound to happen sooner or later. We're just glad it
didn't happen to us." Leading software firms including Micro-
soft, Lotus, Computer Associates and Borland have offered their
disk duplication and shipping facilities to assist DGI in dis-
tributing over four million copies of the program.
Even with such support policies by DGI and the assistance of the
software industry, there is a great fear that the infected dGraph
programs have communicated viruses to other programs and comput-
ers. According to Ralph Potter of the International Virus Asso-
ciation, "This is a disaster of unfathomable proportions. It
could not be much worse than if DOS had been carrying a virus for
years. The designers knew what they were doing, waiting so long
before the viruses were triggered to go off. The ultimate Trojan
Horse."
The National Computer Systems Laboratory at the National Insti-
tute of Standards and Technology issued a terse statement saying
that they would soon publish recommended procedures to minimize
the effects of the current virus crisis. They predicted at least
2 millions personal computers would be stricken with the dGraph
Viruses.
One dGraph User Group in Milwaukee, Wisconsin has begun a class
action suit against DGI and OSO on behalf of all users who have
damage done to their computers and or data. They claim at least
10,000 co-plaintiffs on the initial filing with District Court in
Milwaukee and are asking for $10 Billion in damages.
End.
Scott's story went on to describe that the FBI and Secret Service
were taking the threat as a national security risk and would make
a public statement in a day or so. Leading software industry
prophets were quoted, all taking credit for warning the computer
industry that such massive assaults were predictable and prevent-
able. They blamed the government and computer manufacturers for
laxidazical handling of a serious problem that could have been
prevented. Scott had to make a large chart to keep track of the
competitive finger pointing from the experts.
DGI's stock fell 75% after the announcement until the SEC sus-
pended its trading.
* * * * *
The Associated Press wire announcement was followed in seconds by
the one from UPI. Doug tore it off the printer and raced it over
to Scott.
"I believe this will be of interest to you . . ." Doug chuckled
as Scott read the wire.
Tokyo, Japan: Taki Homosoto, the billionaire founder and
chairman of OSO Industries, was found dead this afternoon in
his opulent Tokyo office. According to police and company
spokespersons, Mr. Homosoto died by his own hands in tradi-
tional Japanese warrior fashion; hari-kari. His body was
found curled up in a pool of blood with the ritualistic
sword penetrating his abdomen protruding from his lower
back.
Police say they discovered a note on his person that ex-
plained the apparent suicide. The letter is believed to have
been hand written by Mr. Homosoto. The contents of that
letter, as released by the Tokyo police follow:
Honorable Friends,
I now resign as Chairman of OSO Industries. My time is
over.
For almost 50 years I have waited to see the United States
and its people suffer as my people did during those terrible
days in August. The United States gave our people no warn-
ing, and tens of thousands of innocent women and children
died without purpose. This criminal sin is one which the
United States and its people will have to live with for all
eternity.
Yet, out of compassion for the millions of innocent bystand-
ers who are helplessly trapped by their government's indif-
ference to human life, I will give the American people a
warning: Without your computers your future is dim, and your
present becomes the past.
When I was told about the attack plans on the United States,
I admit that I was a willing but skeptical buyer. I found
it hard to believe, indeed incredible, that the greatest
military power on Earth was so foolish. I learned that
there were no defenses for the computers that run your
country. How unfortunate for you.
It was shown me how to execute the plans which invade the
very bastions of Western Imperialism; and I have succeeded
admirably. You will not recover for years, as we did not
after your hideous attack upon our land.
By the time you read this, I will be dead and happy. My
creations will have taken hold, and unshakeable from their
roots, will spread chaos and distrust. This is the world's
first computer war and I have waged it and I will win it.
Retaliate! Retaliate, if you wish, if you can; but you will
not, you cannot. Who do you attack? My country? They had
nothing to do with it. My company? I will be dead and
there is no double jeopardy in death.
You have nothing to say, and nothing to do in response. As
we did not after your fire-bombs landed. We could say
nothing.
Helplessness is a terrible feeling. It is one of loneli-
ness, solitude in a personal hell which your people shall
suffer as they learn to live without the luxuries of tech-
nology. You will pay for your ancestor's mistakes.
To the memory and honor of my family.
Taki Homosoto
* * * * *
Scott Mason called Tyrone Duncan immediately.
"I know," said Tyrone, sounding out of breath. "We're on it.
Pierre's getting additional protection. It turns out that Mr.
Homosoto isn't as pure as the driven snow like he pretends to
be."
"How do you mean?" Scott asked.
"Off the record."
"Background." The negotiation on press terms was complete.
"All right, but be careful. It seems that since the 1940's Mr.
Homosoto has been performing some very lucrative services for our
friends at the Pentagon. He has some influential friends in
Congress and uses an assortment of lobbying firms to promote his
interests."
"What's so unusual about that?" Asked Scott.
"Nothing, until you see that certain Congressmen got very wealthy
when OSO Industries built plants in their districts. Heavy PAC
contributions, blind distribution of small contributing funds. It
also appears that he regularly entertained high Pentagon offi-
cials in the finest fashion. Paris, Tokyo, Rio, Macao. Influ-
ence pedaling and bribery. We have traced a path from Tokyo to
the Pentagon that has resulted in OSO subsidiaries receiving
large non-classified government contracts. Take dGraph for
example. That's a de facto standard for all agencies."
"I never thought about that. Everyone in the government uses
it."
"Just like the private sector. I'm on my way to have a little
talk with your Mr. Foster. I don't believe in coincidences."
"Good, where?" Asked Scott excitedly.
"Whoah! Wait a minute. This is official now, and I can't have a
civilian . . ."
"Bullshit!" Scott yelled into the phone. "Don't you get GI on
me. I gave him to you. Remember? Besides, I know him. And I
might have something else."
"What's that?"
"What if I told you that the Freedom League is part of it? And
that it's being run by foreign nationals."
"So what?" asked Tyrone.
"How far did you check into the van driver's background? Wasn't
he Arab?" Scott offered tidbits that he thought relevant.
"Yeah . . ."
"When are you meeting Foster?"
Tyrone thought carefully about Scott's words. "Listen, I have to
get a warrant anyway. It'll probably take till tomorrow."
Tyrone paused for the subtle offer to sink in to Scott. "He's
listed. Gotta go."
One hell of a guy, thought Scott. If it ever got out that Tyrone
worked with the media like this, he would be immediately retired,
if not possibly prosecuted. But nobody else was doing anything,
and Scott had given them Foster on a silver platter. He would
save the Freedom League story for the moment.
* * * * *
The Motorola STU-III secure phone rang on the credenza behind
Marvin Jacobs desk. He had been Director of the National Securi-
ty Agency, DIRNSA, since 1984, installed in that position because
he gave the distinct impression that he didn't care about any-
thing except satisfying his mentor; in this case Vice President
Bush.
The STU-III phone added funny electronic effects to the voices
that spoke over it; all in the interest of national security.
"Hello?" Jacobs asked.
"Homosoto is dead."
"I heard," Jacobs said. "It sounded clean."
"Very pro. Won't be a problem."
* * * * *
Scott saw the galley for the afternoon paper. The headline, in 3
inch letters shocked him:
RICKFIELD RESIGNS
He immediately called Senator Nancy Deere.
"I was going to call you," she said. "I guess you've heard."
"Yes, what happened?" He shouted excitedly over the rumble of the
high speed train.
"I guess I should take the blame," Nancy said. "When I confront-
ed the Senator this morning, he just stared at me. Never said a
word. I begged him for an explanation, but he sat there, expres-
sionless. He finally got up and left."
"That's it? What happens now?"
"I see the President," she said.
"May I ask why?"
"Off the record," she insisted.
"Sure." Scott agreed. What's one more source I can't name.
"I heard about the resignation from the White House. Phil Mus-
grave. He said the President was very concerned and wanted a
briefing from my perspective. He's beginning to feel some heat
on the computer crimes and doesn't have a clue. I figure they
need to get up to speed real fast."
"It's about time," Scott said out loud. "They've been ignoring
this forever."
"And," Senator Deere added, "they want you there, too. Tomorrow,
9A.M."
The hair on Scott's neck stood on end. A command performance
from the White House?
"Why, why me?
"You seem to know more than they do. They think you're wired
into the hackers and Homosoto."
"I'll be there," Scott managed to get out. "What do I do . . .?"
"Call Musgrave's office at the White House."
"I bet the paper's going nuts. I didn't tell them I had left or
where I was going," Scott laughed.
Scott called Doug who had half of the paper looking high and low
for him. "You made the big time, huh kid?" Doug said feigning
snobbery. "What world shattering events precipitated this mag-
nanimous call?" In fact he was proud. Very proud of Scott.
Scott explained to Doug that he would call after the White House
meeting, and he wasn't quite sure why he was going, and that
Nancy was taking over the hearings and he would stay in DC for a
few days. And no, he wouldn't tell more than was in print, not
without calling Doug or Higgins - at any hour.
Doug sounded relieved when Scott volunteered that there would be
no hotel bills. Phew. Forever the cheap skate. The story of the
year and he's counting pennies. God, Doug was a good editor.
Scott's stories on computer crime and specifically the dGraph
situation aroused national attention. Time, Newsweek and dozens
of periodicals began following the story, but Scott, at Doug's
suggestion, had wisely held back enough information that would
guarantee the privacy and quality of his sources.
He was right in the middle of it, perhaps making news as much as
reporting it, but with Doug's and the Times' guidance, Scott and
the paper were receiving accolades on their fair yet direct
treatment of the issues.
Doug thought that Scott was perhaps working on the story of the
year, or maybe the decade, but he never told him so. However,
Scott was warned that as the story became major national news,
the exclusivity that he and the Times had enjoyed would be in
jeopardy. Get it while the getting is hot.
No problem.
It just so happened Scott knew Miles Foster personally.
* * * * *
"Sonja? I'm coming down. Tonight. Can you recommend a good
hotel?" He jibed at her while packing away his laptop computer
for the trip to Washington. He called her and was going to leave
a message, but instead he was rewarded with her answering the
phone.
"Chez Lindstrom is nice, but the rates are kind of high."
"King or twin beds? Room with a view? Room service?"
"E, all of the above," she laughed. "Want me to pick you up at
National?"
"Naw, I'll take the train from work. I may need to buy a few
things when I get there, like a suitcase and a wardrobe. It's
kind of last minute."
"I gather I wasn't the prime reason for your sudden trip," Sonja
said in fun.
"No, it was, I wanted to come, but I had to do some . . .and then
I found out about . . .well I have to be there tomorrow, but I am
leaving a day early." He pleaded for understanding, not realiz-
ing she was kidding him. He couldn't tell her why he was being
so circumspect. Nothing about the meeting.
"Well," she said dejectedly, "I guess it's O.K. If."
"If what?" Scott brightened.
"If we can have a couple of friends over for dinner. There's
someone I'd like you to meet."
* * * * *
"Holy shit," Scott said as Sonja opened her apartment door and
admitted Miles and the stunning Stephanie.
Miles stopped in his tracks and stared at Scott. Then at Stepha-
nie. "What's the deal?" he said accusingly.
"This is Sonja Lindstrom and her friend Scott Mason," Stephanie
said. "What's wrong, hon?" She still had her arm wrapped around
Miles' arm.
"It's just that, well, we've met, and I was just kind of sur-
prised, that's all." He extended a hand at Scott. "Good to see
you again." Scott warmly reciprocated. This was going to be an
interesting evening.
"Yeah, ditto," Scott said, confused. "What happened to you? I
thought you were coming back?" He was speaking of Amsterdam.
"Well, I was a little occupied, if you recall," Miles said refer-
ring to the triplets in Amsterdam. "And business forced me to
depart earlier than I had anticipated."
"Where? To Japan?" Scott awaited a reaction by Miles, but was
disappointed when there was none.
Stephanie and Sonja wondered how the two had already met; it was
their job to report such things to Alex, but it really didn't
matter any more. They were quitting.
The first round of drinks was downed quickly and the tension in
the room abated slightly. The four spoke casually, albeit some-
what guardedly. The harmless small talk was only a prelude to
Scott's question when the girls stepped into the kitchen. Per-
haps they left the room on purpose.
"Listen," Scott whispered urgently to Miles. "I know who you
are, and that you're tied up with Homosoto and the computer
nutsiness that's going on everywhere. You have a lot of people
looking for you and we only have a few seconds," Scott said
glancing up at the kitchen door. "I see the situation as fol-
lows. You get to tell your side of the story to the authorities
in private, or you can tell me first and I put it in tomorrow's
paper. This may be your only chance to get your side of the
story out. All of sudden, you're big news. What'll it be?"
Scott spoke confidently and waited for Miles' answer.
Miles intently scanned every inch of Scott's face in minute
detail. "That fucking gook. You're damn right I'll talk. First
of all, it's a lie," Miles hissed. "If they're coming after
me, I have to protect myself. Can't trust a fucking slant eye,
can you?"
The girls returned with fresh drinks and sat down on the white
leather couch. Miles and Scott continued their discussion.
"What happened?" Scott asked. Miles looked over at the stunning
Sonja, stripping her naked with his stare and then at Stephanie
who had caught his stare.
"It's very simple," Miles said after a while. His dimples deep-
ened while he forced a smile. "Homosoto's fucked us all." He
nodded his head as he looked at his three companions. "Me.
Royally. How the hell can I defend myself against accusations
from the grave." He shrugged his shoulders. "And you," he point-
ed at Scott. "You've kept the fear going. Haven't you. You
picked up the scent and you've been writing about it for months.
Setting his stage for him. Like a puppet. And then? After you
sensitize the public, he commits suicide. He used you."
"And then, you two," Miles said to Stephanie and Sonja. "You
could be out in the cold in days. Bet you didn't know you were
in on it. Am I right?"
"In on what?" Scott asked Miles and Sonja.
"Tell him," Miles said to Sonja. "I've never met you, but I can
guess what you do for a living."
"She's a PR person," interjected Scott.
"Go on, tell him, or I will," Miles said again.
Sonja's eyes pleaded with Miles to stop it. Please, stop. I'll
do it in my own way, in time. Please, stop. Scott glowered at
Miles' words and awaited a response from Sonja. How could he
distrust her? But what did Miles mean?
The front door bell rang and broke the intense silence. It rang
again as Sonja went to answer.
"Yes, he's here," she whispered.
The door opened and Tyrone Duncan came into the room while anoth-
er man stood at the door. Tyrone walked up to Miles. Scott was
in absolute awe. How the hell? Ty had said tomorrow.
"Mr. Foster? Miles Foster?" Tyrone asked without pleasantries.
"Yeah," Miles said haughtily.
"FBI," Ty said flashing his badge. "You're under arrest for
trafficking in stolen computer access cards and theft of serv-
ice." Tyrone took a breath and waved a piece of paper in the
air. "We searched your apartment and found telephone company
access codes that . . . "
"I want to call my lawyer," Miles interrupted calmly. "Now," he
commanded.
" . . . have been used to bypass billing procedures."
"I said I want to call my lawyer," Miles again said emphatical-
ly.
"I'll be out in an hour," he said aside to Stephanie and kissed
her on the cheek. His arrogance was unnerving; this wasn't the
same Miles that Scott had known in Amsterdam. There, he was just
another misguided but well-intentioned techno-anarchist who was
more danger to himself than anyone else. But now, as Tyrone read
a list of charges against him, mostly arcane FBI domain inter-
state offenses, Miles took on a new character. A worldly crimi-
nal whom the FBI was arresting for potential terrorist activi-
ties.
"And those are for starters, Mister," Tyrone said after reading
off a list of penal violations by code number. As if following a
script, Tyrone added, "you have the right to remain silent . . ."
He wanted to make sure that this was a clean arrest, and with
this many witnesses, he was going to follow procedure to the
letter. Mirandizing was one of the steps.
Scott Mason's adrenaline flowed with intensity. Did he ever have
a story to tell now! An absolute scoop. He was present, coinci-
dentally, during the arrest of Miles Foster.
Front page.
"I want to call my lawyer," Miles repeated.
"Make it quick," said Tyrone. Miles rapidly dialed a number from
memory.
Miles turned his back on Tyrone and the others and spoke calmly
into the phone.
"It's me."
Pause.
"It's me. I need assistance."
Arrogance. Pause.
"A laundry list of charges."
Disinterest. Pause.
"Had to happen, sooner or later, yeah," Miles said happily.
Pause.
"I gotta dinner party. I don't want to miss it." He smiled at
Stephanie and blew a kiss. "Great. Make it quick." Miles hung
up.
Miles turned to Tyrone and held his wrists out together in front
of him. "Let's go," Miles said still smiling cooly.
Tyrone gently snapped the cuffs on Miles and ushered him toward
the door.
"Back in an hour or so," Miles defiantly said to Scott, Sonja and
Stephanie over his shoulder as the front door closed behind Miles
and his escorts.
Scott watched in disbelief. Miles, the Spook, ever so calm, cool
and collected. Not a fluster. Not a blush.
Who had he called? That was the question that bothered Scott
throughout the rest of the evening.
* * * * *
The White House, Washington, D.C.
The President looked grim. The normally affable Republican had
won his second term by a landslide and had maintained unprece-
dented popularity. The Democrats had again been unable to con-
jure up a viable candidate after another string of scandals
rocked the primaries and the very foundation of the party itself
Their entire platform focused on increasing the Peace Dividend
beyond the aggressively reduced $180 Billion Defense budget. It
was not much of an attack on a President whose popularity never
fell below an astounding 65% approval, and the only ebb was due
to a minor White House incident involving a junior aide, the
junior aide's boyfriend and the Lincoln Bedroom.
The recession that was started by the Iraqi situation in Kuwait
during the summer of 1990 was not as bad as it could have been.
The world wide militaristic fever, proper Fed Reserve response
and the Japanese all took credit for easing the problem through
their specific efforts. In fact, the recession was eased due in
part to all of their efforts as well the new Europe. The Presi-
dent was rewarded, ultimately, with the credit for renewing the
economy almost glitch-free.
But the President was still grim. America was again at war, and
only a handful of people in the upper echelons of the Government
even knew about it. It would be in the paper in the morning.
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