[Steven Lyle Jordan]

5: Solution

By the time Gail showed up after work, I was finishing the draft of my program and ready to do some debugging. Gail hadn’t changed from her office wear, which still made her look sexier than a lot of girls could look stark naked. Reilly let Gail in, and the two of them grinned at each other and bumped their fists together… now that was the first time I’d seen that. I was sure the two of them had come to some sort of understanding about something. But I was a bit too busy to ask.

Gail came over to my alcove, lifted my head from its position poised in front of my Toughbook, and gave me a kiss. “Hi, lover. I hear there’s progress.”

“Well,” I replied, “yes, and no. Yes, meaning I’ve figured out how to stop Merc. No, meaning I’m still not sure of some of the variables.”

“Okay, I want it all,” Gail said. “Start at the beginning.”

“I was born in a dump… my mama died, and my daddy got drunk—”

“Fast-forward about thirty years, please.”

“If you say so,” I grinned. “I’ve established that I can’t get in far enough to crash Merc. It’s too well-made and well-protected. But I had an alternate plan. Instead of crashing it, I’m going to let it run… and let NASDAQ block it.”

“They’ll block it? How?”

“Well, that’s what I’m still working on,” I explained. “I managed to tease out of all the data on BM’s server, how the program would get into NASDAQ. I’m trying to create a program that I can drop onto the web that will monitor for that signal from Merc to NASDAQ, trying to get in. When it’s detected, my program will simultaneously repeat that same login signal from another address.”

“Why would you want to repeat it?” Gail asked.

“Funny,” Pete said from across the room. “That’s the same thing I asked.”

“Then I’ll tell her what I told you,” I said, and turned back to Gail. “When the NASDAQ servers get two identical connection requests at the same time, it should respond by assuming something is wrong with one of the requests… possibly that it could be a prelude to a denial of service attack… and since it won’t be sure which is genuine, it will reject them both. My program is also designed to monitor the Merc signal in realtime and instantly replicate it, so even if they change it slightly to get around the rejection, they won’t be able to do it easily. And that’s the good news.”

“It sounded good,” Gail admitted. “But that implies bad news.”

“Yeah,” I nodded. “At first, BM will think NASDAQ’s servers are having some temporary issues, so they should keep trying for a bit. But once these guys figure out what’s going on… and they will eventually… they can do two things. Either they’ll shut it down, or they’ll make major changes to the connection signal that my program can’t replicate. So I can’t just run the program forever. What I need to do is to get enough data to be able to trace it back to BM, and send that data to NASDAQ and the FBI.”

“Can you do that?”

“I don’t know. It’s anyone’s guess whether or not they keep it running long enough to let me do that. And there’s another problem.”

Gail rolled her eyes. “This is getting good.”

“Oh, just wait’ll you hear it.” I indicated the program I was debugging. “When I send this program out, every time it tries to collect data on the BM hack, it’ll also leave a trail back to me. That is, back to the address I use to send the data.”

“All the way here?” Gail asked. Then she paused. “Wait a minute… we’re in California. How bad can that be?”

“I’ll put it to you this way,” I replied. “BM must know where I am. They’ll figure out I’m doing something to block their program. So, while they’re trying to figure out how to get past me, they have someone put in an anonymous call to the FBI… an organization that happens to have offices in San Diego.” I mimicked a fist banging on the door, then cupped my hand over my mouth to muffle my voice. “This is the FBI, Schitzeiss. Come out with your hands up!”

“Okay, that’s not cool,” Pete said. “You think it could happen that fast?”

“It could,” I admitted. “There’s one thing I can do to slow them up, though.” I lifted the Toughbook. “Take this show on the road. I can send my program commands from any wireless access point. Then, while the FBI traces the signal, I can move to another wireless point somewhere else. If I can stay ahead of them, I can collect my data and present that to them when they catch me. They’ll have the real culprit… and I,” I finished with a flourish, “will be a national hero.”

“Or at least have the blacklist revoked,” Pete pointed out.

“Yeah, at least that.”

Gail nodded. “We can do that. I’ll drive you around while you work!” She paused again. “When do we start?”

I nodded at the screen. “Okay, I have to debug the program, send it out… and we wait for them to trigger Merc. We can also call or e-mail Mel Cooley, and let him know he can quit, and be as blatant about it as he wants, in the hopes that that will make his former bosses trigger the program ASAP.”

“How much longer do you need?” Gail asked.

I looked at her. I looked at the Toughbook screen, trying to divine a timeframe. I looked at Reilly.

Reilly instantly perked up, and stood up out of the sofa. “Say no more,” she said as she headed for the door. “One grande double-shot skim milk espresso with room, coming up!”

“That’s my girl,” Pete and I said in unison as she dashed out. The moment the door shut, I realized Gail was looking at me with a significantly-cocked eyebrow.

“I-I mean, that’s his girl,” I amended quickly, pointing at Pete.

Gail smiled. “That’s what I thought you said. Come on,” she added, pulling me out of my chair. “You need a break, until your drink gets here.”

“Um, I really don’t know how much time—”

“Make the time,” Gail said meaningfully, and started dragging me towards the bedroom.

Pete stepped towards the Toughbook while Gail dragged me off. “Say, bro, do you want me to work on this while you’re gone?”

I managed to break out of Gail’s grip and turn back to the alcove, growling, “If you touch one key on that keyboard, so help me I’ll—” before Gail re-wrapped both her arms around me and dragged me off again.

“Call Reilly,” she called over to Pete before we disappeared into the bedroom. “Tell her not to rush.” She kicked the door closed behind her.