Counting from Zero (39 page)
“I already have – when I rode through the Lincoln Tunnel, I knew I most likely wasn’t coming back.
All my assets in the U.S. have been seized.
Fortunately, I have enough currency moved offshore, so I won’t be hurting for money.”
“And, why did your sister call you ‘Alec’?
Is this another identity you have?”
“Yes, I was born Alec Robertson, but changed my name when I became a U.S. citizen.
I know, it is strange...”
“Considering what we’ve just been through… not so much.
Do you have any other identities?” she asked, and Mick shook his head and put a finger to his lips.
“Oh, I see – that explains why you didn’t want me to open the package unless I knew you weren’t coming back,
”
she
concluded.
“But, everyone will be on your trail!
Even now I’m sure they are reviewing traffic cameras and will eventually track us here.”
“I have an idea of how I can throw them off,” he replied, looking out towards the setting sun.
“Will I see you again?” she asked.
Mick had been asking himself the same question.
“I don’t know.
What are you going to say to your husband?” he asked.
“The truth, mostly...
Don’t worry about it, Mick.”
“I’m really, really sorry I got you involved in all this...”
“Don’t be – I have no regrets.
You are one amazing guy, and I feel lucky to have had the chance to get to know you.”
“Thanks, Kat.
I feel the same.
I wish I hadn't involved you in all this, but I don’t know what I would have done without your help.
But I still feel there is so much more I want to know about you,” he began.
“Like what?”
“I don’t know...
do you have any tattoos?” he asked.
Kateryna laughed in spite of herself.
“Some things are best left as mysteries!” she replied.
Mick laughed, too, and they hugged one last time.
Mick waved goodbye to Kateryna as he rode off on the CBR.
He felt a lump in his throat, but it was soon replaced by anticipation.
Mick hoped her part in the plan would help her avoid trouble from the authorities.
He still had twenty minutes until Kateryna would make her phone call to initiate the chain of events.
Mick had memorized the map from his computer showing a nearby section of freeway where it crossed the river.
Before getting on the freeway, he rode along a dirt road that ran along the riverbank.
He stopped and changed his clothes, putting some clothing and his computer in the canvas bag from the hospital.
He carefully noted the location, riding towards the bridge.
He paused surveying it, paying particular attention to the guardrail on the entrance curve.
This could work, but it will be risky!
He turned around and rode to the freeway.
He parked the bike and pretended to check the engine.
How long will I have to wait?
He imagined the phone call he asked Kateryna to make to her husband.
She would pretend to be upset, saying that she had tried to persuade him to give himself up, but they had argued, and Mick had ridden away on the motorcycle.
She would tell which direction he went, saying she just didn’t want him to get hurt.
In less than fifteen minutes, he got his answer.
First, he noticed the flow of cars on the freeway stopped.
In the eerie quiet, he got back on the bike and started it up.
In his mirrors, he saw three vehicles in the distance approaching at high speed.
Time to go!
He took off, going through the gears.
The vehicles were closing, as the CBR did not have the torque to leave them behind.
Come on!
Stupid gutless 125!
He could see the bridge ahead, but the cars closed rapidly.
He hoped that he would be able to make it.
As he approached the bridge, he steered out of his lane towards the small gap in the guardrail, standing on the foot pegs and crouching down.
As the bike went airborne, he stood up on the pegs, lifting the front wheel.
He flew through the air for ten meters, preparing for the impact and the pain.
He let go of the bike just before he hit the water; everything went dark.
Chapter 24.
To the Joint Anti-Botnet Information Taskforce:
While the first month of this taskforce has not covered itself with glory, I have no doubt that this team will eventually meet its objectives.
On the positive side, the Cloud 8++ consortium has been broken up – all major players are now believed dead.
The Zed.Kicker botnet appears to be dormant, but not dismantled.
On the negative side, we have lost track of Mick O’Malley once again.
We believe he is the only individual who can control the botnet.
I know some think he is dead, but I believe he is still alive.
For now, our first goal remains to reverse engineer the botnet in order to take control of it.
Our other goal is to find O’Malley, or find his body.
Nothing will be spared in this operation.
We must succeed.
I will lead this team until we have met our objectives.
General
Chapter 25.
Mick saw only blackness, and felt only numbing cold.
He exhaled, and a burst of bubbles escaped.
He felt which way they went, and oriented
himself
.
He kicked his legs, stretched out his arms, and started to move.
Above him was a faint glow of light, so he swam harder towards it.
He broke the surface and gulped a breath of cold air into his lungs, treading water as he got his bearings in the twilight.
He had already drifted downstream.
The headlights of the pursuing vehicles stopped on the bridge above him.
He dove under the water again, swimming at right angles to the current towards the far bank, trying to stay out of sight.
He grabbed an overhanging branch and pulled himself out of the water.
Mick stepped on the shore and quickly made for some nearby pine trees.
He did a few pushups to get his circulation going.
He shivered as he made his way along the bank, hearing more and more sirens in the distance.
Further down, he found the canvas bag he had hidden earlier.
He stripped off his wet clothes and dressed in the dry ones from inside the bag.
He set off walking.
With a bit of luck, he would escape with his life.
Over the next five thousand kilometers he walked, rode, and sailed on his journey, Mick had one thought over and over.
Was it worth it?
Chapter 26.
Two months later...
Halfway between Dublin and Dun Laoghaire, Seamus Campbell got off the train and walked the short distance to the building.
The Blackrock shop was Ireland’s largest dealer of Moto Guzzi motorcycles, Seamus’s second favorite brand of Italian motorcycles.
There was a light dusting of snow on the ground that he knew would likely be melted by the afternoon.
As he walked in the door, a short man behind the counter called out to him.
“Hey, there, Seamus!
You are right on time today!”
“Hey Finbar – well, I have to impress the boss, don’t I?” Seamus called out as he walked behind the counter, hung up his jacket, and prepared for another day’s work.
He wore jeans, a green and gold team uniform shirt, and running shoes.
“Are you going to hurling training tonight?”
“For sure!” he replied.
Seamus was relatively happy these days, and had made many new friends in the small town south of Dublin.
He did miss his friends and family.
But on the worst nights, he thought of one particular woman.
When Seamus wasn’t working at the shop, he worked on his side project: monitoring a botnet.
He could see some occasional probes but so far no serious attempts had been made by anyone to wrest control of the botnet.
He was also busy gathering data about the extent of the botnet – compiling information that he hoped one day could be use to completely dismantle it.
He had also been painstakingly going through his personal servers to try to find evidence that the silent exploit had been used against it in the theft of his private key.
He had not found anything definitive, but he did find some suspicious code that he was having a difficult time analyzing.
And he did find a name in the code: nØviz.
He occasionally read articles about UBK in the press.
Some were about the rollback of the U.S. Government IT contract.
However, others were about new contracts involving other governments.
How this could be baffled him.
Seamus had also made some contacts with the local hacker community.
He pretended to know much less than he did, and so far had made a few useful friends for the future.
He always kept an ear out for one particular hacker friend, but had so far heard nothing.
For now, the botnet, an Internet weapon of mass destruction, was neutralized, in the same way the radioactivity from Chernobyl was encased in a concrete tomb, but was still deadly.
He had averted the zero day attack and the resulting destruction, but the weapon was still out there, and the struggle to regain control of the botnet or create a new one was far from over.
In the meantime, he planned to work on motorcycles.
#
#
#
Alan B. Johnston
Born in Melbourne, Australia, Alan B. Johnston holds two passports, but the same name is on both documents.
He currently lives in the United States.
His introduction to computers as a tween was machine language programming on a 68ØØ microprocessor.
The first high level programming language he learnt was APL.
During his teens, he experimented with electronics and amateur radio, talking to people all over the world on his favorite 2Ø meter band, and using amateur satellites.
He started university at age sixteen and has a PhD in engineering.
He teaches and works on Internet Communication, and is the co-author of the VoIP security protocol ZRTP.
He is the author of four non-fiction books on Voice over IP (VoIP), Internet Communication, Session Initiation Protocol (SIP), and VoIP security.
He holds several patents and is a frequent conference speaker worldwide.
He has traveled extensively earning more than a million lifetime frequent flier miles.
He owns several motorcycles but no
Ducatis
.
His favorite is an old 1970s Yamaha Enduro.
He is an avid dinghy sailor, but has no blue water sailing experience.
He enjoys writing, having written several technical books, a dissertation, and some haiku.
Counting from Zero
is his first novel.
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