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Authors: Tom Grace

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BOOK: Spyder Web
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Grin considered Kilkenny’s suggestion for a moment. ‘It could be, but it would have to be a damn good one to bury his tracks like this. I’m lucky to have found this signal at all. It’s times like this I wish we’d picked up a Gatekeeper for our net when we got that one for your project.’
‘A Gatekeeper?’ Kilkenny asked.
‘Yeah, a Gatekeeper,’ Grin repeated. ‘It’s a tricked-out neural-net chip that was specifically designed to manage high-speed signal traffic and to secure computer networks. The government began installing ‘em on their computer networks a couple months ago. We managed to snag one of these babies because of the high priority the government places on Kelsey’s project. It’s line-management capabilities were the important thing for us, but the government’s using them to keep hackers off their systems.’
‘Well, I’ve always believed in safe computing. We wouldn’t want to catch a computer virus.’
Grin rolled his eyes but politely refrained from further comment. ‘From here, all I can tell is that we have an open line to campus. I’ll call up my buddy down there and see if he can find out who is holding a door open to our Cray.’
For the Spyder, the MARC installation was not ideal. Instead of being housed completely within a machine, where it could mask its activities as part of the host computer, it sat as an independent switch gear on a highspeed data-transmission line. It could still perform its covert duties, but it could not conceal itself completely. Per its built-in programming, the Spyder waited until system activity picked up before seeking a connection to the outside world-that way, its signals might be masked by the other users on the network.
The Spyder passed through the Cray to a campus mainframe and, from there, opened a line from the interuniversity network to Central Michigan University. A tap into CMU’s Internet server allowed the Spyder to access its E-mail and receive instructions from Parnell and Roe.
26
LONDON, ENGLAND

 

April 1
‘Alex, I closed on those stock options you identified. We’re looking at a three-million-dollar profit.’ Parnell sounded almost giddy over the phone.
‘It’s always nice to see an investment pay off,’ Roe agreed as she checked the stock’s final quote for the day.
The Spyder’s first weeks of service had started with a slow trickle of information about the different computer systems that interacted with the MARC network. As the Spyder became more adept at manipulating its electronic environment, the quality and quantity of its product increased. Under Roe’s control, the Spyder unlocked a fortune in corporate secrets that Parnell had turned into a series of very profitable short-term gains.
‘On a less pleasant matter, Ian, I can’t solve the problem we were discussing earlier; there is simply no way around it.’
‘Well, then that’s the answer, and Ba Xan will have to accept it. Bring the details to our meeting this afternoon, and we’ll spell it out for him.’
Kang’s flight in from Taiwan was a daylong ordeal that left his back aching. During the last trip, he knew that British Intelligence had observed him collecting Wu from the Inter-Continental. By now, photographs of him had been cross-referenced against customs tapes and the alias of Ba Xan had been rendered useless. If he dared to enter Great Britain under that name again, MI5 would have surveillance forces lined up in the airport to accompany him during his visit.
Today, he traveled under new documents, which identified him as Deng Cho-Nam, a Taiwanese national. With any luck, he would pass through British Customs with little more than the cursory once-over given to ordinary tourists.
‘Look sharp, people,’ Axton ordered. ‘Kang’s flight has arrived at the gate.’
Across from the line of arriving visitors at Heathrow’s customs area, behind a one-way mirror, Neville Axton watched the travelers as they passed, waiting for Kang Fa to appear. The day before, watchers from Hong Kong had followed Kang to the airport in Taipei, where the Chinese agent boarded a direct flight to London. As luck would have it, Axton was in London for debriefing and reassignment to the Kang Fa surveillance. It was Axton’s long-standing interest in Kang Fa that led the decision makers in London to select him. His sole duty now was to track Kang and uncover what he was up to.
Kang entered customs with the second group of passengers, not too close to the front of the line, nor too near to the end. He was a professional, an adversary worthy of Axton’s respect and, on occasion, grudging admiration.
As Axton watched, his miniature earpiece crackled with the voices of the watchers who had assembled there to shadow Kang Fa. Several of the tourists milling about the concourse and a janitor wearing a Walkman were part of Axton’s team.
The customs agents, having been forewarned by Axton to look harried, passed Kang through with minimum difficulty. He then stopped at a newsstand, scanning the crowd while purchasing a copy of The Times, before walking toward Heathrow’s Underground station.
‘He’s headed toward the Tube station,’ the janitor whispered into his Walkman after Kang was out of earshot.
‘This is team five,’ a woman’s voice responded. ‘We have the target.’
Axton listened as his teams began converging on the platform of the station. London had spared no expense in mounting this surveillance operation. They had provided Axton with a small army of professional watchers, allowing him to blanket Heathrow for Kang’s arrival.
Sir Daniel Long’s directive to Axton had been simple: ‘Every minute of every day that Kang spends on British soil must be accounted for, including everyone he talks to, everything he sees, and everything that he does.’
If Kang Fa so much as broke wind, it would be in Axton’s surveillance report.
‘This is team five. Target is bracketed by five and six. Next train is pulling up.’
Over his headset, Axton heard the train coming to a stop. The squeal and hissing of the brakes was quickly replaced by the commotion of arriving passengers wading through those waiting to board.
‘Five and six, maintain visual contact with the target. Don’t let him give you the slip and double back,’ Axton advised his watchers.
‘Target has boarded the train. Six is following.’
The team five lead ceased reporting momentarily, waiting to see what Kang would do. Kang found an empty seat and sat down.
‘Target is staying on the train. Team six is in the car with the target. Team five is taking up position in next car forward. Train is Piccadilly line number four, direct to Hyde Park Corner.’
‘Confirmed, team five. Keep visual contact with target. You’ll hand off contact at Hyde Park Corner.’
‘Understood,’ the voice replied while the transmission crackled with noise and interference from the tunnel surrounding the accelerating train.
Axton spoke clearly into his microphone to the other watchers assembled around the concourse.‘All right, boys and girls, our target is on his way to Hyde Park. That gives us approximately a half hour to regroup our welcoming party. Let’s get moving, shall we?’
Axton exited the airport and met a black Austin cab as it pulled up to the curb. The driver, part of Axton’s surveillance team, was one of three cabs queued up, waiting to ferry or follow Kang. ‘Hyde Park Corner, sir?’
‘Yes, Jack, and hurry,’ Axton replied as he slouched in the rear seat. ‘We want everything to look natural when our guest arrives.’
Axton’s team reached Hyde Park Corner five minutes ahead of Kang’s train, thanks to the relatively light traffic and a judicious use of portable police sirens. The train stopped at the platform, and its passengers began exiting the cars. True to form, Kang waited until over half the carriage had emptied before making a move to the exit, hoping to pick up on anyone shadowing him. Team six walked past him without notice, looking very much like a young couple in love. Team five held its position in the next carriage forward, taking time to gather up their luggage.
The male half of team six, now locked in a passionate kiss on the platform with his partner, motioned for a handoff as Kang exited the carriage. A new pair of watchers, team three, acquired the target for the next leg of his journey. Team five, also relieved of responsibility for the target, departed, paying no attention to the man who had dominated their thoughts for the last forty minutes. After a change of clothes, and perhaps partners, the watchers would be recycled in a randomly changing pattern of surveillance designed to evade detection by Kang.
Kang emerged from the Underground station onto the bustling streets of downtown London, and luck was on Axton’s side today. Kang looked exhausted from his journey as he flagged down a taxi, one driven by a member of the surveillance team. Axton listened closely to the exchange over his radio between the Cockney cab driver and the Chinese spy. Kang gave the address for a building in Canary Wharf, downriver from London proper. Axton ordered the mobile watchers to maintain a loose pursuit of Kang in case he decided to stop along the way. The watchers on foot regrouped and boarded vans that were to shuttle them to Canary Wharf.
Axton smiled with devilish delight as Kang’s taxi slipped into the afternoon traffic with five different vehicles taking up position ahead or behind. Today, Kang was traveling with the finest government escort in all of London, with the possible exception of the Queen.
The taxi arrived at the building and Kang paid the fare, plus a reasonable tip. Along the way, he had directed the driver to take less direct routes, under the premise of a little sight-seeing. This tactic, which Kang was using to shake loose any unwanted surveillance, allowed Axton to get part of his team in place before the spy arrived.
Axton hoped that this modern high-rise was Kang’s true destination; otherwise, his forces would be spread perilously thin. He found himself holding his breath, waiting to see if Kang would hail another cab or proceed on foot.
‘Twelfth floor-the lift has stopped on the twelfth floor,’ the watcher in the lobby announced.
‘I read you,’ the second watcher replied. ‘I’ll be there in a second.’
‘Don’t jump out too quickly,’ Axton said cautiously. ‘We don’t want to startle him this early in the game.’
The watcher slowly exited the stairwell, which was around the corner from the elevator lobby, next to the lavatories. Kang rounded the corner just as the watcher feigned an exit from the men’s room. Kang passed by, taking little notice of the young man hunched over the water fountain. Using his peripheral vision, the watcher, who was truly thirsty after bounding up twelve flights of stairs, observed Kang enter a suite at the end of the hall.
‘He’s gone in,’ the watcher whispered into his microphone. ‘The doorplate reads PARNELL ASSOCIATES.’
‘Good work,’ Axton responded. ‘Hold position on twelve; your relief is on the way up.’
Axton then turned to the radioman in the van. ‘Get the Home Office on the line. I want to find out who Parnell is and what kind of shop he’s running.’
‘Good day,’ Kang greeted Parnell’s assistant as he entered the suite. ‘My name is Ba Xan. I have an appointment with Ian Parnell.’
‘Yes,’ Paulette replied coolly. ‘I’ll let him know you’ve arrived. Please have a seat.’
Kang seated himself on the black leather sofa, but his eyes never left Parnell’s executive secretary. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end, as she was selfconsciously aware of his unwanted attention.
‘You may go right in, sir.’
Kang nodded and walked into Parnell’s office. Inside, both Parnell and Roe were waiting at the conference table. Kang sat in a chair opposite them. ‘I received your message. What have you discovered?’
‘The information that you are seeking is available through the Moy Electronics computer network, but only under a very restricted set of circumstances. It is impossible for our source to obtain this information without alerting Moy and the American government.’ Parnell slid a synopsis of the Spyder’s latest report across the table. ‘This outlines the structure of the Moy computer network and identifies the barriers to the files you want. Moy Electronics maintains complete documentation on every project. The high-security projects that they develop for the U.S. government are kept on a separate computer and only Phillip Moy himself can authorize a tie-in for file transfers. We cannot imitate that authorization.’
Kang scanned the report, stopping when he reached the section describing the computer that held the cipher files. The only time that this computer was brought online with the Moy network was for transmission of software upgrades to the U.S. government. ‘Can you access this computer during one of these transfers?’
‘In theory, yes,’ Roe answered, ‘but only if we knew precisely when such a transfer would take place. We would need to access the computer just as the U.S. government does, with all the correct passwords and protocol, in order to download any information. The problem is, we don’t know when the next transfer will occur or what authorization codes they’ll use.’
‘We have pushed our source inside Moy Electronics as far as we dare,’ Parnell concluded. ‘The information you’ve requested is simply beyond our grasp.’
Kang sat quietly, his face displaying nothing other than deep contemplation of the information just presented. He said nothing for what seemed an eternity to Parnell and Roe-Westerners with no sense of patience. Roe held her composure well, but Parnell’s anxiety telegraphed from his face and hands.
‘Your work is not yet complete.’
Parnell’s manner turned to ice. ‘We have a deal-’
‘Yes, we do,’ Kang agreed, interrupting Parnell in midsentence. ‘And the conditions for terminating that agreement have not been met. You have told me nothing about Moy’s security that I didn’t already know. If you knew when Moy’s next transfer would occur and you were provided with the access codes, could you then obtain what I want?’
Parnell deferred to Roe for the answer.
BOOK: Spyder Web
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