Terminal Compromise - Winn Schwartau (fiction book recommendations TXT) 📗

the Stock Exchange, Fed Ex, and God knows

what else is all from one man, Homosoto, then yes, it’s a army,

an attack.”

“What if we declare war?” Secretary of State Quinton Chambers

said, fully expecting immediate agreement with his idea.

“On who? The Computers?” jibed Defense Secretary Coletree. “The

damned Computer Liberation Organization will be the next endan-

gered minority.”

“Declaring war is a joke, excuse me Mr. President,” said Phil

Musgrave. “It’s a joke and the American people won’t buy it.

They’re getting hit where it hurts them the most. In their pock-

ets. We have major business shut downs, and they want an answer.

A fix, not a bunch of hype. We’ve had the war on crime, the war

on drugs, the war on poverty and they’ve all been disasters.

Things are worse now than before. They’ve had it with bullshit

and they’re scared right now.”

The President bowed and rotated his head to work out a kink.

“The position of think,” Musgrave would say. Then the refreshing

snap in the President’s neck would bring a smile of relief to the

corners of Chief Executive’s mouth.

“What if we did it and meant it?” asked the President with a

devilish grin. No one responded. “What if we declared war, with

the approval of Congress, and actually did something about it.”

“A unique concept,” quipped Musgrave. “Government accomplishing

something.” Penetrating glares from Coletree and Kennedy only

furthered the President’s amusement. He enjoyed the banter.

“No, let me run this by you, and see what you think,” the Presi-

dent thought out loud. “We are facing a crisis of epic propor-

tions, we all agree on that. Potential economic chaos. Why

don’t we deal with it that way. Why don’t we really go out and

fix it?” Still no reactions. “What is wrong with you guys?

Don’t you get it? Mediocrity is pass. It can’t be sold to the

this country again. For the first time in almost two centuries,

the American people may have to defend themselves, in their homes

and businesses on their home land. If that’s the case, then I

think that leadership should come from the White House.”

The President rose and leaned on the back of his chair. There

was quiet muttering among his top aides. “Aren’t you stretching

the point a little, sir?” asked the Chambers, the silver haired

statesman. “After all, it was just one man . . .”

“That’s the point!” shouted the President. “That’s the whole

damned point.” He strode around to the old white fireplace with

a photo of George Washington above it. If permitted, this spot

would be labeled ‘Photo Opportunity’ by the White House tours.

“Look what one man can do. I never claimed to know anything

about computers, but what if this was a warning?”

“Don’t get maudlin on us . . .”

“I am not getting anything except angry,” the President said

raising his voice. “I remember what they said about Bush. They

said if he was Moses, he would have brought down the ten sugges-

tions. That will not happen to me.”

The inner circle stole questioning glances from each other.

“This country has not had a common cause since Kennedy pointed us

at the moon. We had the chance in the ‘70’s to build a national

energy policy, and we screwed it up royally when oil prices were

stable. So what do we do?” His rhetorical question was best

left unanswered. “We now import more than 50% of our oil.

That’s so stupid . . .don’t let me get started.” There was an

obvious sigh of relief from Chambers and Musgrave and the others.

When the President got like this, real pissed off, he needed a

sounding board, and it was generally one or more of them. Such

was the price of admission to the inner circle.

The President abruptly shifted his manner from the political

altruist still inside him to the management realist that had made

him a popular leader. He spoke with determination.

“Gentlemen, exactly what is the current policy and game plan?”

The President’s gaze was not returned. “Henry? Andrew?” Mus-

grave and Chambers and Secretary of the Treasury Martin Royce

wished they could disappear into the wallpaper. They had seen it

before, and they were seeing it again. Senior aides eaten alive

by the President.

“Henry? What’s the procedure?” The President’s voice showed

increasing irritation.

“Sir, CERT, the Computer Emergency Response Team was activated a

few months ago to investigate Network Penetrations,” Henry

Kennedy said. “ECCO, another computer team is working with the

FBI on related events. Until yesterday we didn’t even know what

we were up against, and we still barely understand it.”

“That doesn’t change the question, Henry. What are the channel

contingencies? Do I have to spell it out?” The President mel-

lowed some. “I was hoping to spare myself the embarrassment of

bringing attention to the fact that the President of the United

States is unaware of the protocol for going to war with a comput-

er.” The lilt in his voice cut the edge in the room, momentari-

ly. “Now that that is out in the open, please enlighten us all.”

The jaws were preparing to close tightly.

Henry Kennedy glanced nervously over at Andrew Coletree who

replied by rubbing the back of his neck. “Sir,” Henry said,

“basically there is no defined, coordinated, that is established

procedures for something like this.” The President’s neck red-

dened around the collar as Henry stuttered. “If you will permit

me to explain . . .”

The President was furious. In over thirty years of professional

politics, not even his closest aides had ever seen him so totally

out of character. The placid Texan confidence he normally exud-

ed, part well designed media image, part real, was completely

shattered.

“Are you telling me that we spent almost $4 trillion dollars,

four goddamn trillion dollars on defense, and we’re not prepared

to defend our computers? You don’t have a game plan? What the

hell have we been doing for the last 12 years?” The President

bellowed as loudly as anyone could remember. No one in the room

answered. The President glared right through each of his senior

aides.

“Damage Assessment Potential?” The President said abruptly as he

forced a fork full of scrambled eggs into his mouth.

“The Federal Reserve and most banking transactions come to a

virtual standstill. Airlines grounded save for emergency opera-

tions. Telephone communications running at 30% or less of

capacity. No Federal payments for weeks. Do you want me to

continue?”

“No, I get the picture.”

The President wished to God he wouldn’t be remembered as the

President who allowed the United States of America to slip back-

ward 50 years. He waited for the steam in his collar to subside

before saying anything he might regret.

“Marv?” For the first time the President acknowledged the

presence of Marvin Jacobs, Director of the National Security

Agency. Jacobs had thus far been a silent observer. He respond-

ed to the President.

“Yessir?”

“I will be signing a National Security Decision Directorate and a

Presidential Order later today, authorizing the National Security

Agency to lead the investigation of computer crimes, and related

events that may have an effect on the national security.” The

President’s words stunned Jacobs and Coletree and the others

except for Musgrave.

“Sir?”

“Do you or do you not have the largest computers in the world?”

Jacobs nodded in agreement. “And do you not listen in to every-

thing going on in the world in the name of National Security?”

Jacobs winced and noticed that besides the President, others were

interested in his answer. He meekly acknowledged the assumption

by a slight tilt of his head.

“I recall, Marv,” the President said, “that in 1990 you yourself

asked for the National Computer Security Center to be disbanded

and be folded into the main operations of the Agency. Bush

issued a Presidential Order rescinding Reagan’s NSDD-145. Do you

recall?”

“Yes, of course I do,” said Marvin defensively. “It made sense

then, and given it’s charter, it still makes sense. But you must

understand that the Agency is only responsible for military

security. NIST handles civilian.”

“Do you think that the civilian agencies and the commercial

computers face any less danger than the military computers?” The

President quickly qualified his statement. “Based upon what we

know now?”

“No, not at all.” Jacobs felt himself being boxed into a corner.

“But we’re not tooled up for . . .”

“You will receive all the help you need,” the President said with

assurance. “I guarantee it.” His words dared anyone to defy

his command.

“Yessir,” Jacobs said humbly. “What about NIST?”

“Do you need them?”

“No question.”

“Consider it done. I expect you all here at the same time tomor-

row with preliminary game plans.” He knew that would get their

attention. Heads snapped up in disbelief.

“One day?” complained Andrew Coletree. “There’s no way that