Spyder Web (18 page)

‘Everything will be ready and waiting. See you then.’

Two days later, Nolan picked up Kelsey from Metro Airport and drove her straight to MARC with the first five Newton processors. Both Nolan’s father and Grin stayed late, and they were waiting in Newton’s lab when Kelsey and Nolan arrived.

‘It’s show time,’ Nolan announced as he placed a wellsealed box on the stainless-steel lab bench.

‘You must be very excited, Kelsey,’ Sean Kilkenny commented enthusiastically.

‘To be honest, this is better than winning a Big Ten Championship.’

‘Personally, I’m trying to keep my enthusiasm in check until we actually get one of these going.’ Nolan sliced through the heavy plastic with his Swiss Army knife and carefully pried open the box. ‘I’ve been running on a model for six weeks, and I’d kind of like to sink my teeth into the real thing.’

‘I’ll just be glad to get you off the Cray,’ Grin said as he peered over Nolan’s shoulder at the five carefully wrapped processors. ‘You’ve seen hogging way too much time on my prime machine, time that I could have been selling to paying customers.’

Nolan let the dig slide. Grin knew full well that all his project-related time was funded by Kelsey’s very sizable grant for optoelectronic research. He pulled a black transparent bag from its foam packing and handed it to Newton. ‘This is your baby. Do the honors.’

Nervous with excitement, Kelsey broke the seal of the bag and pulled out the two-inch greenish square that was nearly half an inch thick. The face of the processor seemed to reflect within itself, giving an illusion of infinite depth, and the perimeter was ringed with gold pins that would connect the device to Newton’s experiment. The strange beauty of the optical processor silenced everyone as Kelsey held it in the light.

‘Here goes nothing,’ Kelsey said as she carefully pressed the processor into place. It snapped in perfectly, and Sean Kilkenny recorded the auspicious moment with his video camera.

Proudly, Kelsey turned to Nolan with a relieved smile. ‘Now it’s time for you to earn your doctorate.’

‘Damn, this is exciting, Kelsey!’ Nolan turned to face her. ‘You’ve created something that could totally change the computer world. Thanks for asking me to be a part of it.’

‘Nolan, you are the best programmer I know. I need you on this project. Without your timely E-mails, I would never have completed my simulation program.’

‘I’ve always thought you two made a good team,’ Sean declared with fatherly pride. ‘It didn’t matter whether it was a lemonade stand or a homecoming parade float, you two always got the job done and done well. I predict great things from this collaboration.’

Kelsey moved next to Nolan and threw her arm around his shoulder. ‘What do you say, partner, are you ready to kick some butt?’

‘Anything you say, Kelsey.’

The next morning, Nolan began testing the ITC cable that ran between Kelsey’s optoelectronic processor and the Cray computer. The ITC cable differed from normal types of wiring in that it was made of a very expensive superconducting material that, when chilled with liquid nitrogen, lost all electrical resistance and allowed greater amounts of information to flow across it. Given the known speed of the Cray and the theoretical speed of Kelsey’s processor, the ITC cable was the only means of handling communications between the two machines. Nolan’s tests involved sending a series of signals across the cable to verify that it was functioning properly. Once done, he could begin testing his operating system on the new processor.

After checking the cable connections, Nolan logged on to the Cray from his workstation in the lab and sent a signal to Kelsey’s processor. As the low-voltage signal began to flow, the experimental processor came on-line and the dormant Spyder became active.

Through the open ITC cable, the Spyder pieced together a picture of the electronic world it was now a part of. It ignored the data flowing from Newton’s experimental processor; the unusual patterns were unlike anything it had been programmed to encounter. Instead, it focused on searching through the Cray for a route to the outside world.

The MARC Cray was one of only five supercomputers located in southeastern Michigan that leased time to outside researchers. As part of Sean Kilkenny’s arrangement with the University of Michigan, this machine was part of the interuniversity very high speed Backbone Network Service, or vBNS network, which linked Michigan to several other research-oriented universities.

At 12:10, a graduate student from Michigan State University’s College of Engineering logged on to the supercomputer. The Spyder monitored her progress from inside the Cray’s memory, watching as communication protocols were confirmed, as passwords were verified, and, finally, as information began to flow between East Lansing and Ann Arbor.

The successful connection between the Cray and the outside world allowed the Spyder to wander freely inside the interuniversity computer network, where it found exactly what it was looking for: the switchboard for the network’s communications lines. Using the password pilfered from the MSU researcher, the Spyder logged on to the university’s Internet server and sent an encoded message to Roe’s E-mail address. The Spyder then logged off the network.

March 5

It had been another long day at the office for Phillip Moy and, unfortunately, the duties were ones that he abhorred. Since receiving Barnett’s warning about a security problem, Moy had his internal security staff searching for the leak. It made him feel as though he couldn’t trust the very people who worked for him-the people who had made Moy Electronics an industry giant.

He had spent the better part of his afternoon with his director of Security, reviewing their in-house investigation. The findings were essentially inconclusive. None of the employees with access to the new supercomputer’s design showed any of the warning signs that would make them receptive to an outside offer. Other than one troubled marriage, all of the potential candidates were in good health and their families were fine and financially untroubled. In short, no hardship motives that could make an employee sell out to a competitor were found.

The director of Security also looked at any outside contractors working with the firm over the time period covering the development of the stolen computer-system design. A cross-reference of network log-ins by outside contractors against the computer’s internal logs revealed two curious discrepancies, both of which were attributed to Michael Cole.

The director of Security found part of her answer on the mainframe’s internal activity logs. On both occasions when Cole was apparently running a diagnostic program, other areas of the computer system were engaged. All other users on the system at that time could be accounted for, yet the mainframe’s internal register of processing time did not agree with the system administrator’s logs for both nights. The internal register reset itself each day and was in agreement with the system administrator’s logs until Cole accessed the system. After he logged off, the two records of processing time used no longer matched.

Admittedly, the evidence was circumstantial, but it pointed to some unusual activity by the CIA’s liaison on their computer system. Unfortunately, Cole’s death prevented them from talking with the one person who knew what he was doing on those nights.

Moy thanked the director of Security for her efforts and waited until she had left before conferring with the director of the CIA. He dialed the direct line to Barnett’s office, bypassing Langley’s main switchboard, and his call was received by Sally Kirsch.

As the call came through, a computer read the incoming caller’s phone number and cross-referenced it against Kirsch’s phone database. By the second ring, she knew that the caller was Phillip Moy.

‘Good evening, Phillip,’ Kirsch answered, ‘working a little late, aren’t we?’

‘I could say the same for you,’ he replied.

‘I’m just tidying up a few things before I leave. Jackson’s still in his office, I’ll buzz him for you.’

The line clicked as Moy’s call went on hold for the transfer. A few seconds later, the deep, rich southern voice of Jackson Barnett filled the receiver. ‘Phillip, what can I do for you tonight?’

‘I just received the results of our in-house investigation, and we’ve turned up some interesting, and disturbing, information. The only questionable activity we’ve been able to locate has been attributed to an employee of yours who was working with us, Michael Cole.’

Barnett glanced over at the Cole file on the corner of his desk. ‘What do you have on Cole?’

‘Not much really, nothing that conclusively points to him as the leak.’ Moy skimmed the report summary for highlights. ‘All we actually have is some strange computer activity on his part, coupled with some possible computerlog tampering. It’s coincidental, Jackson; there’s no smoking gun. I just thought that I would pass our suspicions on to you.’

Barnett made some notes about Cole for discussion with Cal Mosley. ‘I appreciate that. Could you send a copy of that report to me?’

‘It’s already on the way. Have you found out anything more regarding Cole’s death?’

‘Nothing solid. Cole was obviously involved with something that resulted in his death, but we haven’t been able to determine just what that something was. If Cole was selling your secrets, he may have gotten greedy and paid a higher price than he bargained for. Your report may shed some light on the situation. Thank you for your help.’

Like Barnett, Moy wanted to know how his secrets had been stolen and who was responsible. ‘My pleasure, though I prefer working with you on more pleasant tasks.’

‘I completely agree. Say hello to Cynthia for me.’

‘I’ll do that,’ Moy replied.

The line went dead and Barnett cradled the receiver. This new information gave him three possible scenarios for Michael Cole’s death. A high-level source working for British Intelligence had verified that the Yakushev files were genuine; was Cole blackmailing one of the moles named inside those files? Phillip Moy believed that Michael Cole was doing something unusual on his computer system; was Cole committing industrial espionage? Cole had spent a year working on the Spyder; could that have something to do with his death? The circumstances of Cole’s murder still posed more questions than answers.

As the director of Central Intelligence, Barnett knew that industrial espionage was a national problem that far exceeded the damage caused by spying against the U.S. government. Industrial espionage was part of the global economic war, where industries clashed instead of armies and victory was measured in terms of market share. If Cole was the leak at Moy, the next logical step would be to find the connection between him and the recipient of the information in Hong Kong.

March 18

Grin was in early, as always, caring for the computers that he referred to as ‘the toys.’ MARC might materially own the hardware that toiled under Grin’s care, but no one ever questioned his dominion over the machines.

After an early-morning workout, Kilkenny arrived at MARC looking a little more tired than usual. He dropped his backpack and coat in the chair beside the Cray console and walked over to the computer lab’s refrigerator, where he stored a large container of orange juice.

‘Getting your vitamin C for the day, I see,’ Grin commented without even looking up from his monitor.

Kilkenny hoisted his glass in a toast before taking another drink. ‘Everyone has their vices, and mine could be a lot worse. How are we doing today?’

Grin scanned his systems monitors. ‘Everything this side of your processor is working just fine. The Cray is happy as a clam and ready to go to work.’

‘Let’s do it.’

The program was to simulate nuclear fusion in a new reactor design. An accurate, real-time model of the problem required the Cray to process thousands of variables simultaneously in order to mimic the theoretical, manmade sun. Physicists from around the world had collaborated on the development of this model, hoping to one day solve the riddle of a sustainable, energyefficient fusion reaction.

The graphic display on Grin’s console showed two new signal lines, each representing a distinct electronic link between the MARC network and the outside world.

‘Nolan,’ Grin called out from his console, ‘are you hooked into the university’s mains?’

‘Yeah, I’m downloading from the Engineering Library.’

Grin studied the report from the network closely. ‘I can account for that. Are you doing anything else, like a network query or E-mail?’

‘No, just a lengthy download off an old mainframe.’ The fusion problem’s program and data set occupied several terrabytes of memory. ‘If it wasn’t for the new optical cabling that campus recently installed, this would take all day.’

‘That Light Speed Network Backbone has lived up to its name, for which I am truly thankful. I save many hours every week because of it.’ Grin turned his attention back to the strange signal. ‘I wonder what that is.’

Kilkenny walked over to Grin’s station and looked over his partner’s shoulder. From this console, Grin could survey the performance of the mainframe computers and information network within MARC. He zoomed in on the window that monitored all of the Cray’s network connections; only two lines were in use.

‘That’s odd,’ Kilkenny said, ‘I should be the only user connected to the Cray.’

‘Got that right. Your physicists aren’t scheduled to log on until this afternoon.’ Grin tried to bring up a listing for the second signal, but each time the program told him it didn’t exist. ‘I wonder what that is.’

The signal they were tracking was strong and steady, but neither of them could identify it. Kilkenny was just as puzzled as Grin. ‘Well, wherever that signal is coming from, it doesn’t appear to be affecting the Cray. Do you think it’s a hacker cruising in over the network?’