Cipher (2 page)

Jonathan stared at the enveloped and leafed through the cash
inside of it. It was more money than he had seen in over a year. “Thanks.”

“One million dollars when you return the cipher drive to me
safe and sound, along with the person who had it.”

Jonathan’s mouth just about dropped to the floor. He tried not
to show how impressed he was, and worried that the job was over his head, but
he didn’t dare say that. He looked down at the black Italian loafers Don
Cicerone was wearing and got lost in a train of thought for a moment.

“Hey kid, you with me?” said Don Cicerone in an effort to
ensure that he was heard.

“Yes. Yeah… I mean it’s a deal.”

“Good. All of the info is on this.” Don Cicerone handed him
a silver USB stick. “If you have any questions, you can always call Vinnie over
here,” he said, nodding to the driver who picked him up.

“Okay, got it.”

“And, kid.”

“Yeah?”

“You screw me over and it’s two bullets to the head.”

“I’ll find it. I assure you that I’ll find it.” Jonathan
sounded much more
confident
this time around. He had a
renewed sense of spirit. This was his big chance – his big opportunity to
pull his life back together and get back to some semblance of normalcy. He
couldn’t screw this up.
He wouldn’t screw
this up.

“That’s more like it. I expect you to check in with me
often. At least a couple times a week and let me know your progress. I
wanna
know where we’re at with this at all times. That
drive… that
muthafuckin’
cipher drive
is the most important thing in my life; it’s more important than my wife and my
unborn children. You understand me?”

“Perfectly.
Loud and clear, Don Cicerone.
Sir.”

“Good. Vinnie, give the kid a lift back to the park.”

“Done.”

Jonathan rubbed his eyes and stared
at the computer screen in front of him, then at the silver USB stick in his
hands. The large yellow envelope of cash lay on his desk next to him. He eyed
it with suspicion. He knew what kind of trouble that money could bring to his
life. He knew just what type of hijinks he could get into if he allowed
himself. But, he knew he couldn’t. This was Don Cicerone, and he couldn’t mess
around. He had to get started on the job and get him back the information he
was looking for. He knew he couldn’t let him down.

The thin silver USB stick felt so innocent in his hands. He
imagined it would be quite like the black USB cipher drive he was after, except
that one seemed a bit more ominous. That black USB cipher drive had something
on it worth a lot of money to a very powerful man. Jonathan could only imagine
what it was, and to what extent the repudiated mob boss would be willing to go
to in order to get it back. He felt the brushed aluminum of the silver USB stick
as he slipped it into his sleek laptop. An orange light emitted rapidly as the
data was accessed and a folder was launched containing three files: one
picture, a voice recording, and a document.

He clicked on the first file – the image. It opened up
to reveal a black and white photo of a tall blonde woman taken with what appeared
to be a high-zoom lens. Dr. Jennifer M. Cobalt was the name at bottom of the
photo. He studied the image carefully. He studied the look on the woman’s face.
Her delicate white complexion and high cheekbones drew him in. The woman in the
photo fascinated him. Who was she? What was her story? He carefully clicked the
mouse, moving the image to the side as he opened the next file, a PDF document.
It was some sort of map of Istanbul. But it wasn’t an ordinary map. It was
overlain with coordinates and other details. In the bottom corner of the map
there was a paragraph about 2048-bit encryption keys. He reviewed the map for a
few moments before pushing it aside and clicking on the last file – the
audio file. He launched it and listened to it play. It was the sound of woman’s
voice recording her findings.

Woman’s voice
: August 4
^th
,
2:14pm – 1024-bit RSA keys no longer have the protection value they once
did. This loaded cipher drive can crack the standard 1024-bit RSA key in just less
than 27 minutes, far quicker than the standard 11-month
time
frame
required for cracking a 1024-bit RSA key. I’ve created the cipher
using a new string of algorithms that exponentially increases the speed of
brute force crack. This technology, if found in the wrong hands, could be used
to hack government, banking, and infrastructure on the Internet like never
before. There would be no stopping anyone who got
their
hands on it.

Man’s voice
: What will you do with
the technology now that you’ve achieved your goal of creating a sub one-hour
cracking cipher for the standard 1024-bit RSA key?

Woman’s voice
: My team is now working
on the holy grail of all cracking ciphers: the 2048-bit RSA key crack. These
RSA keys are rare in the field of cryptology, but as Moore’s law of computing
technology doubling every 18 to 24 months, it won’t be long until 2048-bit RSA
keys become the standard. I won’t rest until we reach that goal.

Man’s voice
: And you think it’s
possible to create that kind of crack? The complexities are incredulous for
cracking something like that.

Woman’s voice
: Yes, it’s 2 to the nth
power with 2048 being n in this case. Yes, we’re well aware of the
complexities. But this is the
task at hand.
This is
what we’ve been commissioned to complete.

The audio recording stopped, and Jonathan Grace sat back in
his chair, still staring at the audio recording on his laptop screen.
God, this is going to change the world. With
this technology, he can break into anything. Any bank, any government
institution
,
any state infrastructure; literally,
anything.
He now realized why the pay was so high and why Don Cicerone was
willing to do just about anything to get that cipher drive back. What were his
intentions with it? It couldn’t be anything good, but who was he to judge? The
Don was a paying client and the only person keeping him solvent right now.

He opened the yellow envelope again and leafed through the
five twenty-thousand-dollar-stacks of hundred dollar bills. He knew what he
needed to do now. He knew what the job entailed, but where would he start?
Where was he going to go from here? He stared at his laptop for a few minutes.
He knew it wasn’t going to be easy. He knew he had to start out by doing
research. He needed to find out everything he could possibly know about this
woman and the technology she held in her hands. He needed to find out where she
was, how she spent her day, and somehow get close enough to her to grab the
drive. He knew it wasn’t going to be easy. He knew that he had his work cut out
from him.

*****

After a long full day of travel, Jonathan found himself in
the passenger terminal at the Istanbul Ataturk Airport. He looked around,
studying the passengers that were busy making their way to their destinations,
rushing to connecting flights, or leaving the airport to head home. All of them
were completely oblivious to the technological doomsday device that was
floating around somewhere nearby. They were completely unaware of the power
that a small four by one piece of computer hardware could have on the global
economy. A complete shutdown and draining of money from financial systems or a
complete rewiring of city and state infrastructure through coordinated hacks
were just a couple of the ills that the device could be used to perpetrate

You’re going to make
one million dollars, Jonathan.
One million dollars.
It was more money than he had ever seen and the allure of the profit and his
fear of the client drove him to push through any mental roadblocks he may have
had of doing the job. He was going to find the woman and he was going to find
the hardware.
But why him?
Why had Don Cicerone picked
him to do the job? Jonathan knew that he was capable, but it was clear that he
had been falling apart in recent years. He must have seen that when they met in
the park. He must have known that but still decided to go with him for the job.
He felt honored that they chose him, but he did have a great rapport with them
in the past. In the past, when they needed something, he always came through.
He could always find the man or the woman they were looking for, without fail.

He thought about Don Cicerone and what would happen to him
if he failed as he waited in the taxi line outside the airport terminal. The
air was hot, and the New York heat wave was seemingly mirrored in Istanbul. He
couldn’t get away from the heat. He couldn’t escape it even if he tried. It was
the middle of summer and it felt exactly like it. He was in unfamiliar
territory but that didn’t detract him from what he knew needed to be done. Scanning
the busy terminal, Jonathan made his way outside to hail a taxi and get to the
city center. He had brushed up on Turkish phrases on the flight over, and tried
to recite them in his mind. The language wasn’t easy to pick up, and he knew it
was going to take some work to
get
acclimated.

“
Merhaba
,” said the taxi driver as
he climbed in.

“
Merhaba
,” said Jonathan back.
That was an easy one. It meant hello. “Do you speak English?”

“Yes. Little,” replied the cabbie in broken English. “Where
will you go?”

“Besiktas?” said Jonathan, naming off the area of the city
where the hotel was located.

 
“Oh, okay. You
mean Beşiktaş? To a hotel?”

“Yes. The Le Hotel.”

“Okay, no problem. Where are from?” His English was bad but
it was better than him trying to communicate with him in Turkish. He wasn’t at
a conversational level just yet.

“New York City.”

“Oh, New York City. I love New York,” he said, laughing to
himself. “Very big city. Like Istanbul.”

“Yes, very big city,” Jonathan replied.

“You come vacation in Istanbul?”

Jonathan looked at the man through the rearview mirror. He
seemed like an innocent, hardworking man. The thick dark mustache made it
difficult to see his mouth.

“No, for work.”

“Oh, okay. For what kind of work you do?”

“I’m an investigator. Like a detective.” Jonathan didn’t
mind the conversation, but he was enjoying taking in the sights and the sounds of
the new city. It was the first time he had ever been to Istanbul and he enjoyed
the change of scenery. Stuck in a rut, the doldrums of living in New York wore
on him. Although it was a city full of opportunity, his opportunity had been in
the dirt for a while now, and he was happy to finally get a good break.

“You are police?” The taxi driver looked at Jonathan now
with suspect through the rearview mirror, and he didn’t seem like the type of
person who liked police.

“No. No. Not police. Private investigator for private
clients.”

“Oh. Okay. Police here no good. I don’t like.”

“I understand. Not many people do like the police when they
have to deal with them. The taxi drivers in New York complain about the police
too.” Jonathan lied. He wanted to get the cabbie back on his side again.

“Yes. Police sometimes very bad. They take money. They
steal.”

“Really?” Jonathan hadn’t realized that corruption was that
apparent in a city like Istanbul, but it didn’t shock him. It didn’t shock him
that there
were people in power gaming the system. It was
probably just more apparent in a city like Istanbul, but he knew that kind of
corruption existed everywhere. Some countries were just better at hiding it
than others. If you took a country like the United States, you might not see
the corruption that visibly, but it still existed. Jonathan knew all too well
just how much it existed. He had been tasked with helping to uncover some of
that corruption in his early days as a detective working in the city. But, that
was in the past. He didn’t want to go backwards.

“Evet. Really.”

He had recalled the word
evet
,
which meant yes in Turkish. He looked at the working-class man through the
rearview mirror again, then at the ancient city as they drove over a
spectacular bridge across the Bosporus, separating the Asian side of Turkey
from the European side. The shimmering city’s mosques glittered in the distance
as they made their way over the large suspension bridge. Jonathan couldn’t
recall seeing anything so beautiful in such a long time.

The city sparkled along the water and he was hit with a rush
of excitement and exhilaration. He knew he had work to do, but just breathing
in the air of the ancient city made him feel more alive. He was no longer
confined to the bowels of New York City; he was really living life. This was
it. This was what it was all about. He wrapped both arms around his backpack as
if it were a little child on his lap. That backpack contained virtually his
entire life at that moment.

On the last stretch of road before they reached the hotel,
Jonathan marveled at the sparkling sea. He looked at the dichotomy in women,
some wearing burkas, some without, and realized how far away from home he really
was. But he didn’t mind. He didn’t mind being far away form home because of the
rich historical beauty that he found himself immersed in. The city made him
feel alive again. It made him feel like a person. He had a purpose and a
meaning to his life. He didn’t have to drift away in some dingy apartment in
Brooklyn; he could live again doing what he knew how to do best. As long as he
didn’t mess up the opportunity, there would surely be more to come for him.

When he finally reached the hotel and checked in, he thanked
the taxi driver. He took one last moment to look at him as he shook his hand
before walking into the hotel with his bag. The cobblestone and historical
exterior was a stark contrast to the sleek and modern interior of the Le Hotel
in Istanbul. The blacks and reds evaded the space with brilliant pops of color that
brought the space to life. The modern furniture with its clean lines, gave way
to rich and brilliantly colored finishes throughout the space. He marveled at
the beauty of the space for a moment and felt pleased with himself for having
found that gem.

He took a moment to gather himself as he walked into the
stylish room that had all the comforts of home. He stepped out onto the small
terrace and sat there for a few moments collecting his thoughts. The seven-hour
time difference ahead from New York was going to catch up with him at some
point, but he still had energy from the sleep he caught on the flight. He
walked back into the room and decided to setup his laptop and get to work. He
had to find Dr. Cobalt and get the black USB cipher drive. He stared at the PDF
map on his screen for a few moments. He studied the coordinates and other
detailed information on the map, and then minimized it on his screen. He opened
up another browser, and this time decided to do a Google search for information
on Dr. Cobalt to see what he could come up with.

Jonathan used to be a pro at surfing the Web. Before he
allowed the drinking to get in the way, he was one of the most proficient
investigators that there was. He was trying to find that in him again. He
wanted so badly to succeed, because it also meant getting his life back
together. That money meant a sense of normalcy; a life where he didn’t have to
take dead-end jobs that paid next to nothing. It was the chance of a lifetime
and he was hoping and praying that he wouldn’t screw it up. As he stood there
staring at the Web browser, he keyed in information in a variety of different
formats. He started with the search “Dr. Jennifer M. Cobalt,” in the search
field on Google to see what he would come up with. Of course, there were loads
of links with a variety of news articles.