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

use for ten wives. But the ritual was preserved.

“Of course it will. I would be most honored. If you could

provide me with details of his flight I will see to it that he

receives appropriate treatment.”

“Very good Mr. Troubleaux.” Pierre stifled a smirk at the mispro-

nunciation. “Your trouble will not go unrewarded.”

“Mr. Homosoto, it is so good of you to visit at this time. Very

auspicious, sir.” Pierre was kissing some ass.

“Troubleaux-San,” Homosoto’s English had a touch of Boston

snobbery in it, “you have performed admirably, and we all look to

continued successes in the future. I expect, as I am sure you

do, that the revenues raised from your public stock offering will

provide your company with the resources to grow ten fold.” It

was a statement that demanded an answer. Another Japanese quirk.

“Yessir, of course. As you know, Mr. Homosoto, I am not involved

in the day to day operations and the forecasting. My function is

more to inspire the troops and carry the standard, so to speak.

I will have to rely upon the expertise of others to give you the

exact answers you seek.”

“That is not necessary, I have all I need to know about your

business and its needs. Your offer is most kind.”

“Why do you call DGI my business? Aren’t we in this together?

Partners?” Pierre clarified the idiom for the rotund bespecta-

cled Chairman of OSO Industries.

“Hai! Of course, my friend, we are partners, and you will be

very wealthy in a few days.” That statement had the air of an

accusation more than good wishes. “There is one little thing,

though. It is so small that I don’t wish to mention it.”

Well then don’t, thought Pierre. “Nothing is so small it should-

n’t be mentioned. Please, proceed Homosoto-San. How may I

help?”

“That’s it exactly!” Homosoto beamed. “I do need your help. Not

today, but in the future, perhaps a small favor.”

“Anytime at all, sir. Whatever I can I will.” Pierre was re-

lieved. Just some more Japanese business practices that escaped

him.

Homosoto leaned in towards Pierre. His demeanor had shifted to

one of a very serious man. “Mr. Troubleaux, how can I be sure

that you won’t disappoint me? How can I be sure?”

The question threw Pierre for a loop. How can he be sure? I

don’t know. Maybe this was only an Oriental game of mumbley peg

or chicken. “Sir, what would I need to do to convince you of my

willingness to comply?” When in doubt, ask.

Homosoto relaxed again, leaned back in the plush office chair and

smiled. “In my country, Mr., Troubleaux, honor is everything.

You have nothing, nothing without your honor. Every child, man

and woman in Japan knows that. We are raised with the focus of

growth being honor. During the war between our countries, so

many years ago, many found honor by making the supreme sacrifice.

Kamikaze pilots are of whom I am speaking of, Mr. Troubleaux.”

Pierre’s face must have given away the panic that instantly

struck him. Suicide? This guy is truly nuts.

“Do not worry, Mr. Troubleaux, I can see what you are thinking.

No. I only speak of kamikaze pilots to serve as example of

honor. The kind that brought honor to Japan in the face of

defeat. That is something Americans will never understand. But

then again you’re not American are you?”

“I was born a Frenchman, but I naturalized over twenty years ago,

at the same time my parents did.”

“Ah yes. I remember. Then honor does mean more to you than to

most Americans. That will be quite good. Now, for the future

favor. I require nothing of you today, other than the guarantee

of you honor. Is that agreeable to you, Mr. Troubleaux?” Homoso-

to was pushing with the facade of friendliness. Pierre’s concern

was not alleviated. All the same, he reluctantly nodded his

assent.

“Very good. Now for the favor.” Homosoto stood up and reached

inside his size 48, ill fitting suit. Pierre was amazed at how

much money the Japanese had, yet were apparently unable to ever

wear clothes that fit properly.

Homosoto handed a 5 1/4″ floppy disk to Pierre. Pierre took it

carefully from Homosoto and looked at the label. The diskette

was marked only with:

FILE1.EXE to FILE93.EXE

He looked inquisitively at Homosoto, his eyes asking, Yeah, so?

What’s this got to do with anything?

“I see now you are confused. It is so simple, really. Sometime

in the future, you will be instructed to add one of the files on

this disk onto the dGraph programs you sell. That’s it. So sim-

ple. So I have your word Mr. Troubleaux? Honor among men.”

Pierre’s mind was racing. Put a file onto a program? What does

that do? What’s on it? Does it help dGraph? No that can’t be

it. What is it? Why so secret. What’s with the honor bit?

From the Chairman of OSO, not a technician? One floppy disk?

Pierre smelled a fox in the chicken coup.

“Mr. Homosoto, sir. I mean no disrespect. But, I hardly know

what to think. I don’t even know what this disk is. You are

asking me to promise something I don’t understand. What if I

don’t agree. At least until I know what I’m doing? I need to

know what’s going on here.” he said holding the disk up promi-

nently.

“I prefer to think, Mr. Troubleaux of what occurs as long as you

do agree to maintain the honor between us. It is so much more

pleasant.” Homosoto edged towards the doors of Troubleaux’s

office as he spoke.

“When you agree to act honorably, perform for me this small,

insignificant favor, Mr. Troubleaux, you will get to keep the $20

Million you make this Friday and you will be permitted to contin-

ue living. Good Afternoon.” Homosoto closed the door behind him.

Alexander Spiradon was pleased. His students were doing well.

The other students from the New York computer school had already

checked in; they didn’t have as far to travel as Sir George.

Everything was in place, not quite a year to the day since he and

Taki Homosoto had set their plans in action. Alex hadn’t spoken

to Homosoto in a couple of months. It was now time to report to

Homosoto in Tokyo. It was 17 hours earlier there – Homosoto

would probably be at his desk. The modem dialed a local Brookline

number. The phone in Brookline subsequently dialed a number in

Dallas, Texas, which dialed another phone in Tacoma, Washington.

The Tacoma phone had the luxury of dialing the international

number for Homosoto’s private computer.

Call forwarding services offered the ultimate in protection. Any

telephone tracing would take weeks, requiring the cooperation of

courts from every state where a forwarded phone was located.

Then, the State Department would have to coordinate with the

Japanese Embassy. An almost impossible task, if anyone had the

resources. It took about 45 seconds for the call to be complet-

ed.

<<<<<>>>>> PASSWORD:

Alex entered his password, GESUNDHEIT and his forced response

from his own PRG card. His computer terminal paused. If he was

on satellite to Japan, or to Dallas or anywhere else, his signal

could travel a hundred thousand miles or more each time he sent a

character from his keyboard.

CRYPT KEY:

Alex Spiradon chose 43. Each communication he had with Homosoto

was also protected with full encryption. If someone was able to

isolate their conversations, all they would get would be sheer

garbage, a screen full of unintelligible symbols and random

characters. By choosing 43, Alex told his computer and Homosoto’s

computer to use Crypt Key 43, one of over 100 secret keys that

both computers held in their memory. This cryptographic scheme,

using the U.S.‘s Data Encryption Standard, DES, and ANSI standard

X9.17 was the same one that the Treasury Department and Federal

Reserve used to protect the transmission of over $1 trillion of

funds transfers daily.

<<<<<>>>>>

That was the signal for Alex to send the first words to Homosoto.

Good Morning, Homosoto-San.

AND TO YOU MY ESTEEMED PARTNER. YOU HAVE SOMETHING TO REPORT.

Yes. All is in place.

PLEASE CLARIFY . . .MY MEMORY IS NOT WHAT IT WAS.

Of course. The last of the Operators are in place. We call him

Sir George. That makes 8 altogether. San Francisco, (SF), New

York, (NY), Los Angeles, (LA), Boston, (BM), Atlanta, (AG) Chica-

go, (CI), Washington, (DC) and Dallas, (DT).

AND THEY CAN BE TRUSTED?

They are aware of the penalty. If not, we have others that will

replace them. Besides, you are rewarding them most handsomely for

their efforts.

SO I AM. I EXPECT RESULTS. AND THE OTHERS?

The Mail Men are waiting as well. Four of them in NY, DC, LA and

DT.

YOU SAY MAIL MEN. WHAT IS THAT TERM?

They