The Eagle's Covenant (26 page)

“So how do you get access without retrieving?”

` She sighed deeply. “With a lot of luck.”

“You don’t mean that, do you?” he asked encouragingly.

She smiled. It had a cheeky countenance to it, like that of a child in a sweetshop; full of expectation.

“Not really. I would back myself against the most sophisticated systems anywhere in the world because, basically, they are all programmed by people like me.”

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” That much was evident. “So how do you get access to those satellite control codes?”

“Well, up to a point, it’s quite straightforward. I have all the passwords Hansi used for access, including those for the most sensitive files, but I have to use them in the correct sequence. For the less sensitive files I can afford a couple of incorrect passwords before the alarm bells start ringing. So, by logic, I can eliminate those passwords that are unnecessary. “Are you with me so far?” He nodded lamely. “Good. Once I have the correct sequence of passwords, I copy them on to my ‘piggy back’ programme as deleted files. It means I have to set aside some of the host system’s non-volatile storage area so I can hide them there. Then I transfer the sequence on to my second computer, remove the ‘piggy back’ temporarily, and leave the ‘host’ computer on line. If anybody thinks they’ve detected unauthorised access, they will find only Hansi’s system reading low grade data.”

She smiled at him again. She knew he wasn’t taking it all in, but he was so attentive. Conor wanted, more than ever, to take her in his arms and hold her.

“Coffee break?” he suggested. Joanna looked at her watch.

“Is it really as late as that?” she asked. She got up from the chair and massaged her legs and thighs. “I’d better freshen up while you get us some coffee. It’s going to be a long night.”

“I thought you’d finished.”

“No,” she replied, shaking her head. “Believe it or not, everything I’ve told you is true, except that my piggy back programme will be detected unless I make it polymorphic.” This time Conor’s mouth just fell open. “So you get the coffee, and I’ll freshen up and think about the best way to pull a rabbit out of a hat.”

“Undetected,” he said.

“Exactly.” And she left him thinking thoughts that had nothing to do with software.

*

Conor woke. He wasn’t sure where he was for a brief moment, but when he saw Joanna, her head cradled in her arms at her desk, he remembered. It had been a bizarre night. He had watched in helpless admiration as Joanna had struggled to fend off the onslaught of almost overwhelming tiredness, and complete the task of writing a programme that would ensure, as far as possible, that her piggy back remained undetected. She had forced Conor to sit at the second computer and feed in commands, according to her directions, that would hack into the system in her own computer while she tried to detect it. The polymorphic files she had created as the framework of her piggy back would, she had explained to him, continually mutate themselves into an amorphous mess that would remain undetected but not lose their functionality. As each file or part of a file slipped through her defences and avoided each security sweep, she would clap her hands and clench her fist. But whenever they were detected, she would curse, grab her pen and rewrite part of the analogous arithmetic that went into the heart and interlocking soul of her stealth software.

The night had dragged on until it embraced them both in the welcome sanctuary of sleep. Neither of them moved from their respective places and so they woke in the same manner they had slept.

Conor stood up and stretched the stiffness from his body. He walked over to Joanna and laid his hand gently on her shoulder. He gazed down at her as she stirred.

“Morning, Joanna.”

She lifted her head, her eyes still heavy with sleep and turned towards him.

“What time is it?”

He checked his watch. “Seven o’clock.”

She sat up and stretched. “God,” she said, yawning. “What a night.” Then she leaned forward and punched a few keys on the keyboard in front of her and extracted the floppy disc from the computer’s disc drive. She then went over to the second computer and did the same.

“I guess we’ll have a couple of hours before they start,” she told him, “so we’d better freshen up and have something to eat. I’ll order breakfast for seven thirty. We’ll eat in the breakfast- room.”

Conor watched her leave and found himself wondering if she thrived on the adrenalin from her computer wizardry in the same way he thrived on adrenalin. But the big battle was to come and he wondered if she had a breaking point.

He doubted it.

*

Manfred Schiller was feeling decidedly better than his daughter-in-law, although he was not aware of the difference. He had eaten a hearty breakfast in the terrace room overlooking the valley. With him was Levi Eshkol. And beside them both was the pile of folders that made up the Covenant.

Schiller’s lawyers had been through the Covenant with a fine tooth comb. Nothing, it appeared, had been left out. All laws of the individual countries had been checked previously by Schiller’s own lawyers in those respective countries working as part of Eshkol’s team. All risks of breaking any aspect of any peculiar legislation, particularly in the United States where they were so hot on anti-American activities, had been dealt with. All monies had been paid to each member’s nominated bank account, many electing to use Swiss banks, and everyone had been sworn to secrecy. The threat of Schiller’s power had been left unsaid but was implicit. The fact that Schiller was dissolving his own power did not alter other people’s opinions of him. His personal wealth would still be intact and was omnipotent. The unspoken threats remained.

When they had breakfasted, Schiller and Eshkol went through to the central control room. It was from here that the satellites were controlled. Eshkol, naturally, had never seen it before. He had expected something quite large, technical and straight out of the science fiction books. But modern technology, miniaturisation, sophisticated design had rendered all that unnecessary.

Schiller introduced Eshkol to the senior control officer. He was a middle aged man, slim and balding. He shook Eshkol’s hand and went back to his monitors. From his position at the desk, the officer could see the tracking dish located in a small, aerial plot in the grounds. Alongside the dish he could also see the communication dish and various radio antennae. In front of him were two keyboards, four computer screens and other pieces of ancillary equipment. It looked about as high tech as the average supermarket security post, although he couldn’t see the equipment and the servers which were housed in a separate room. A second man was introduced to Eshkol as the senior computer technician.

“It doesn’t look very busy,” remarked Eshkol.

“It doesn’t have to be. But those machines are processing an incredible amount of traffic.” He smiled and put his hand on Eshkol’s shoulder. “And it’s all done with numbers. Amazing, isn’t it?”

Eshkol continued to look round the room. Apart from the screens and an oddment of small, indicator lamps on the consoles, the only lighting in the room came from four florescent tubes mounted on the ceiling. He could hear the hum of cooling fans somewhere. Probably the air conditioning, he decided. And there was no carpeting on the floor. Instead the floor covering was some kind of high grade linoleum, polished to a perfect finish.

“Well,” he said after a while. “Something of an anti-climax really.”

Schiller laughed. “In that case we’ll go back to the office and ask the others to make ready. We’ll begin with the paperwork and complete the satellite transfer about noon.”

*

Conor was sitting in front of the second computer. Taped to the edge of the screen was a sheet of paper. On it were several, makeshift codes that Joanna had written in large print. These were code words she would call out to Conor to which he would respond by hitting the correct key or combination of keys as fast as he could. They were simple words:
hit, run, hide
etc.

Joanna was sitting at the other computer. Both machines were on line and Joanna was ‘looking’ at Schiller’s system in legitimate access mode. Conor was simply staring at the sheet of paper trying hard to memorise the correct keys.

There was a knock at the door and one of Joanna’s staff came in. She handed Joanna an envelope. “Special messenger delivered this,” she told her and left the room. Joanna felt her heart beating heavily as she took the envelope. She glanced across at Conor who was studying his screen intently. She ran her fingers over the envelope and felt the unmistakeable shape of a barrel type door key. She almost froze at the memory of the telephone conversation. The voice had been persuasive, promising no comebacks; her name would never be involved. Absolute secrecy, he promised. Joanna knew that by hacking into Schiller’s satellites, whether she was successful or not, was a crime. The voice on the phone didn’t know anything about Joanna’s plans, but Conor was privy to them and he could always use that knowledge as a lever. He could be dangerous. She breathed in deep to steady her nerves and got up out of her chair.

Conor looked across at her as she walked across the room to where she kept her purse. She tore the envelope open, removed the key and dropped it in the purse. Conor went back to studying his screen. Joanna went back to her desk. Her legs felt so weak she was grateful for the safety of the soft chair. She closed her eyes and prayed to God that she would have the strength to carry it through.

*

Schiller sat facing the consoles, his mind at ease with what he was about to do. His recompense for atrocities committed by the Nazis against his own people was about to begin. It was payback time. No more would Israel suffer the indignity of American purse strings. No more would Nazi Germany rise up against the Jewish nation. No Arab nation would set its heart at war against the peaceful ambitions of his true country. The power he was handing to the people of Israel would ensure their elevation to one of the truly great nations on this planet. He looked at the men assembled around him. It was God’s will, he thought. For God’s people, God’s will.

Joanna watched her screen closely. Communication protocols had been established between her and Schiller’s system. The ‘piggy back’ was scooping up a stream of data which was being down loaded on to Conor’s computer. It was being encrypted on to his File Access table and rendered irretrievable by any other source. Joanna would ‘number crunch’ the information she required at Conor’s keyboard and transmit it back to Schiller’s system. The two-way flow of data would go on for approximately thirty minutes. Thirty minutes in which they were at their most vulnerable.

The lawyers had asked permission to remain until the transfer was complete. Schiller was in a good mood. He had agreed. They were in place now as the satellite control officer, the SCO, opened up communications with two satellites which were in geostationary orbit, 28,000 miles above the earth; encircling the globe at the same speed that the earth was rotating.

“They’re in.” Joanna felt her pulse quicken. “Read the digits back to me. I want to compare them with what I have; make sure there’s no mistake.”

Conor could feel the tension rising. His flesh prickled with nervous apprehension. A number one appeared on the screen, followed by a nought. More digits appeared as if at random until there were thirty two sprawled across the screen. Another row blossomed in front of him and he read those across as he had done with the first block. Some rows appeared that included letters as well as a string of numbers. He read them all back.

The SCO waited for a protocol command from the first satellite. When it came he keyed in a password. Joanna followed him in. The second satellite asked for a separate protocol command. In it went. Joanna swore gently.

“What is it?” Conor asked, barely raising his voice above a whisper.

“They’re about to do a satellite cross check. We’ll be blind while they do it.”

“But you knew this.”

“Yes, but don’t worry. It’s just me being nervous,” she reassured him.

The SCO nodded his satisfaction and checked with the second control officer who was sitting at the console and controlling a separate computer.

“We’re getting some noise here,” he said quietly. The SCO watched as he tapped in an enquiry code. Then he turned to Schiller. “Sir, didn’t you authorise a transmission ban?”

Schiller looked at his watch. “Yes. The ban is on for another thirteen minutes. Probably some idiot hasn’t read his mail shot. Check it out anyway.”

The second control officer turned back to his console. “Ah, it’s gone now.”

Joanna whistled through her teeth. “Damn.”

Conor’s head jerked round. “What is it?”

Joanna’s fingers flowed over the keyboard. “It looks like we’re the only system on line. Schiller must have banned all communications traffic until the transfer is complete.” She clucked her tongue angrily. “Makes it a touch more difficult.”

The SCO turned to one of the Israeli contingent. Eshkol, ever attentive stepped forward. “You want these, I presume?” He handed the SCO the new codes. In his briefcase was another set of codes which he intended putting in once the SCO had completed the transfer. It was part of the agreed procedure. The SCO typed them in to a file box.

“The new codes,” Joanna said. “When they’re complete I’ll write the complement codes.” This was Joanna’s Trojan horse: the numbered codes would be interpreted by her computer. Joanna’s piggy back had an amorphous copying programme which substituted the opposite numbers. When the satellites’ command system asked for verification it would automatically return Joanna’s numbers, but these would be changed back to the original numbers for transmission to the screen.