Keys
Give the key away and knock at the gate (Russian proverb)
A year has passed since the US intelligence services eavesdropping on the computers and smartphones of some Russian officials and businessmen stopped working. Then China, Europe, Syria, and Latin American countries began to gradually disappear from the 'ether'. The White House was now guessing, among many other things, as to why Germany was so stubbornly resisting his pressure and continuing negotiation of the Nord Stream 2 gas pipeline construction. What specific conditions does Russia offer? It also became unclear why the Islamic State in Syria failed so quickly. The situation was slowly but surely spiraling out of control. The world leader was losing the advantage of being able to act in advance. And all these terrible failures were caused by some Russian firm that appeared out of nowhere, with the mocking name "Traceless Hero". Two hundred hackers of the US National Security Agency have been vainly struggling with the puzzle for several months. Especially offensive was the fact that the system of the "Trackless Hero" used all the usual means of communication controlled by the special services in order to send its messages, but yet somehow all those messages remain totally inaccessible to US intelligence. A stream of secret information floated right under American noses, through the servers they could access, through the channels they controlled, through the protocols they developed themselves, but, alas, they could read nothing. Under the head of the Department of Telecommunications and Computer Services, Craig Stevenson, the chair rocked like at a nine-point earthquake. Of course, the chairs swayed under all of his subordinates.
The door flew open and a disgruntled Craig entered the Computer Interception Department's office.
“Well, still not hacked?”
“Not yet,” the head of the department Nick pronounced apologetically.
“That is, the best hackers in the United States, listening to the whole world, to the presidents of all major countries, even to German Chancellor’s smartphone, are not able to hack the communication channel of some small Russian company?”
“This is not an ordinary firm, sir. We’ve made some inquiries. Their main Russian programmer Antony has a double university education - his Russian and ours Westerns. Moreover, the cryptographic department there is headed by our compatriot, a Ph.D. in cybernetics from Princeton University, by some Daniel.”
“No matter how cunning these guys are, you have what Snowden blabbed out the whole world about – the access to computers and smartphones from the back door, thanks to the cooperation of leading manufacturers of telecommunications equipment with us! Are you unable to take advantage of this? Billions taxpayer dollars to coerce leading Telecom firms to implement secret loopholes were simply wasted? Should I report this to the chief?”
“This is an unusual case, sir. We are faced with something non-standard, totally inexplicable.”
“Non-standard? Ha. Such a word! Are you Nick still unaware that entrusted you department and very you personally, are supposed to solve exactly such ‘non-standard’ tasks? We pay out such a hefty salary just for cracking such problems. Those who can only do the standard ones do not drive the brand new Bentleys, like yours, they get along with second-hand Toyota cars. And they do not live in a mansion on the coast, like yours, but in a two-room apartment in a gloomy sleeping suburb. Do you want us to eliminate this discrepancy?”
“I beg your pardon, sir, but you should be aware that the department under my direction has up to now coped excellently with all tasks, including non-standard ones. But, I repeat, this is a special case, we just need more time.”
“Time is money! How much more do you need to crack the ‘Traceless Hero’?”
“We hacked into their computer system a long time ago, sir. We’ve infiltrated even their server. But there’s not even a hint of crypto keys anywhere”
Craig pondered over for a few seconds, and then ordered:
“Well, hell with their server then! Most likely, they keep the keys on removable media in a fireproof locked safe. Hack their clients’ computers! There must be at least some partial keys there, public or private – because they do encrypt with them somehow anyway!”
“Alas, sir, there are no keys either…, neither open public parts, nor close private ones,” Nick muttered.
“How so? How do they encrypt their messages then? ” Craig was taken aback.
“That’s what we’re trying to figure out right now.”
This time, Craig fell into a silent stupor for several minutes, then smiled and exclaimed with the air of a connoisseur:
“Don’t waste your time figuring it out. Since you’ve already hacked their clients, I don’t understand why you even need these keys. After all, in order to enable their recipient to read the message with the eyes, the info has to be decoded on computer screen and appears as a normal text in English, Russian, Chinese or whatever other language. All you need to do is to simply intercept the already decrypted screenshot from the recipient’s computer screen. Also do the same with senders’ screen before they encrypt them. After all, this is exactly what we do with subscribers of recalcitrant providers like ‘Consonator’ and ‘DownUp?’ who haven’t yet agreed to cooperate with us, don’t we?”
“That’s right. We follow your recommendations and see everything that happens on the screens of the ‘Trackless Hero’ clients. But it appears that... they don’t decipher messages.”
Craig intently looked at Nick, as though trying to figure out which of two of them was the idiot.
“How do they read data then?”
Nick turned his computer monitor to the boss:
Let’s look together. I have now remotely connected to the computer screen of one of their clients. Now the client opened the email message and does even bother not decrypt it! Never does.”
Craig leaned over to the monitor, which was filled with an abracadabra message full all sorts of letters, numbers and other symbols. A few seconds later, the user of that computer wrote a response to... an encrypted message! Moreover, already in encrypted abracadabra text! This time, Craig froze in disbelief for about quarter an hour before exclaiming happily:
“Morons! This only means that an external decryption device is connected to the computer. And on the monitor of that device, everything is displayed in a decoded form!”
“Well, Craig, all the devices connected to their computers, be it printers, scanners, IP-phones, smart-phones, external disks or cards and so on – all have standard verified models fully controllable by us. We checked all the ports and all the protocols. But what’s more important – some of them have nothing connected to them at all and they still do function the same way in terms of encryption.”
Craig began pacing across the room in silence. This time he remained silent for half an hour. Then he stopped and yelled with exhaustion:
“So, you are looking to the wrong place - you are mired in stereotypes! Don’t think like Americans! Imagine yourselves Russian! Get drunk with vodka, after all!”
Craig left the office and slammed the door behind him.
The confusion in the eyes of Tom, the head of the Phone Interception Department, spoke for itself. Craig didn’t even ask him anything, but attacked right away:
“Well, what will you tell me this time? Do you want me to guess at first attempt? You have got no keys, have you?”
“No keys,” Tom admitted.
“And you also have no bonus anymore, by the way! Ha-ha! And soon there will be no more work for us!”
“I’m sorry, sir, but we are doing the best we can. We’ve been working twelve hour days a week for a month now,” Tom tried to justify himself.
Craig came close to him and asked with a hint of desperation in his voice:
“Tell me, what do you need the keys for? After all, the special secret insertions into microchip circuits are at your service. You can connect directly to the microphone of any smartphone and eavesdrop on the conversation before it is encrypted, can’t you? Or you are like those morons from K-interceptions who can do nothing at all in all?”
Ben picked up the headphones from the table and handed them to Craig:
“Please, listen for yourself. This is what we hear directly from the microphone even before the encryption.”
Craig put it on and heard what sounded like pterodactyl squeaks. Or like the sounds of dolphin communication, transposed into the audible range of the human ear. Yes, long ago he had heard similar sounds in an educational TV show about dolphins. Now one ‘dolphin’ on one smartphone screeched something - another, on another device, responded in the same manner. Craig’s anger subsided. He sat down in a chair and remained motionless and emotionless for long, until he tiredly said:
“We need to involve the CIA.”
Then he heavily god up and slowly trudged away to the chief’s waiting room. The secretary of the National Security Agency director told Craig that the boss was currently talking to the Secretary of State and therefore would probably not be available soon, likely in a few hours. Craig plopped down onto the waiting couch, leaned back, and said wearily:
“I’ll wait until morning. The matter is urgent. Would you make me some coffee, please?”
Antony returned from the Thai beach to his four-star hotel room, and was about to take a sweet nap on the couch when someone knocked the door. Wondering who it could be, Antony opened it. Four policemen entered the room, and the fifth remained outside.
“You’re under arrest! Here’s the warrant! Follow us! Leave all your personal belongings here. After the search, we will return them.”
A week later, an American Air Force plane landed onto the concrete strip of the airfield with some small service buildings scattered around it. Accompanied by a whole group of American intelligence officers, Antony descended from the ramp. After long, depressing days in a stuffy solitary confinement, that was somewhat of a relief for him. Antony looked around, guessing where he ended up. It couldn’t be Thailand, as they had been flying for too long. This could not be the Baltic States or Poland, as palm trees grew. And it did not seem to be US, because everything here was pervaded by the feeling that all on that place was about to vanish soon with disgrace. The group walked three hundred meters through the shrubbery along a flagged path and entered a two-story red brick building. The flag of the United States yet waved on its portal! An unmarked guard in a gray uniform respectfully parted on the porch. Several personnel were waiting for Antony inside.
“Welcome to Guantanamo!” Someone in a black uniform, presumably a CIA officer, extended a friendly hand to Antony.
“I demand to be formally charged and to make my advocate present,” Antony ignored the outstretched hand.
“You are accused of aiding and abetting terrorism. Lawyers in a military court, are not provided, sorry.”
“Then I demand to be given the opportunity to contact the Russian Embassy and substantiate the accusation with facts in front of them.”
“You’ll demand from your Russian mistress if you return back. There is no Russian embassy in Guantanamo. The formal indictment will be presented to you later.” irritated CIA officer informed.
“You are violating several international conventions at once!” Antony stated paying no attention to reaction around.
“Tone it down - no one knows you’re here. So far, you’ve just gone missing. You don’t exist at all. You may have disappeared, may be drowned, or may be died in a drunken fight in pub. And whether you show up again at all depends on your behavior here. Am I making myself clear?” CIA officer asked.
“What do you need?" Antony replied to question by question.
“Just a collaboration. Take the prisoner away!” officer ordered.
The cell was clean and austere. No windows. Just a bed, a nightstand, and a towel were inside. While he was being held in Thailand and transported, Antony held firm. Now the depression was looming upon him. He realized that he was completely at the mercy of these military captors. That neither Russia nor the rest of the world, including ordinary Americans, know that he has been captured. Even his very life might be at stake at this secret prison. Antony lay down and began to think. Aiding and abetting terrorism is less than terrorism itself. In normal court it would be not realistic to attach such a ridiculous accusation to a programmer of a company that even is not under sanctions lists. However, in Guantanamo, it might be possible, who knows. Most likely, he faces a prison term in a foreign country. Maybe even a life sentence, like Victor Bout. Sleep didn’t come. Antony closed his eyes and began to meditate.
A nymph in a white airy dress dances on the edge of a cliff. Antony has never seen such fabulous woman before. He calls to her, and lo and behold, she obeys and begins descending to him! Antony can’t believe his eyes. She steps to him, she approaches him, she smiles at him revealing her snow-white teeth with a bluish tint. Her arms wrap around his body, and he notices a mole in front of her right earlobe. The nymph slightly sways him from side to side... then, she suddenly starts shaking him... Stronger… With unladylike strength!.. With beasty force!!! Antony woke up in horror - the caretaker was bending over him:
“For interrogation!”
Antony was led through a maze of corridors to a brightly lit room with gray walls and no windows. A middle-aged interrogator was already waiting for him. To the left of the table stood a powerful goon in an unmarked black uniform that could have been used to frighten children at night. He offered a chair. Antony sat down.
“You are a programmer from the Russian company ‘Traceless Hero’, aren’t you?” the interrogator asked.
“Let’s say so.”
“Do you realize that cryptographic firms like yours are harming society?” the interrogator began from afar.
“It is strange to hear such affirmation from a representative of a country which since its birth has declared the secret of private life as one of the inviolable sacred human rights.”
“We don’t care about anyone’s personal secrets. We are only interested in communications between terrorists and state criminals.”
“There is a very fine line between those. Therefore private life is untouchable in its entirety as a whole in any of its parts and you know it. To fish out criminal facts you do listen to the whole planet, don’t you?”
“Do you seriously believe everything Snowden said? We never had such intentions!”
“Intentions? In one thousand nine hundred and seventy-six, at the insistence of the National Security Agency, the key length of the US state encryption standard was deliberately reduced from one hundred and twelve to fifty-six bits, which created vulnerabilities through which the special services became able to open electronic correspondence of private citizens. A little later, the NSA, for the same purpose, convinced IBM to reduce the strength of the cipher in its devices. In the 1980s, the NSA thwarted the spread of the strong encryption algorithm of Rivest, Shamir and Adleman. At the same time, the leadership of the US National Science Foundation was imputed with the obligation to send all work on cryptography for approval to the special services. In 1991, under a bill of two hundred and sixty-six, all manufacturers of communication equipment were de-facto obliged to leave ‘back doors’ in their devices, which would allow the government to read the correspondence unencrypted. In the ninety-third, the Clipper Chip project was put forward, with an aim to install a microcircuit on all phones with an encryption function, which would give special services access to the owner’s secret private key. Closer to the year 2000, the United States, both at home and in Europe, pushed the idea of forcibly depositing all private keys into a common storage available to them. Shall I continue?”
The interrogator was unpleasantly surprised and stunned by how competent Antony was on that matter.
“It was so long ago that almost not true anymore! Everything that you have mentioned has already been canceled officially” the investigator proclaimed proudly.
“But unofficially?”
“Cryptography came from the Devil! The Scriptures say that everything secret will be revealed.” the interrogator sharply jumped to the religious note.
Antony looked up in surprise at the ‘devout Catholic’:
“On the contrary, The Nature itself favors private secrets. Our Sun will fade out and turn off much sooner than all modern computers together crack the encryption of a two-hundred-bit key. Although it takes only a second to generate such key.”
“Anyway, be the law good or bad – it must be obeyed by all, including your ‘Traceless Hero’” the interrogator lost interest to further crypto-theosophical discussion.
“We are not an American company and therefore do not fall under your jurisdiction. In addition, we have not yet exported our devices to the United States and therefore could not violate any purely American laws in principle.”
“We need the keys in exchange for your freedom,” the interrogator decided going ahead without diplomacy at all, like a bull protruding its horns ahead.
“Alas, buddy, I can’t help you with that at all – the keys are neither with me, nor even in ‘Traceless Hero’.
“But they do actually exist somewhere, don’t they?” the interrogator asked with notes of anger, anxiety, desperation and hope.
“Of course.” Antony confessed, realizing that for the obvious it is always safer to be frank.
“Where are they then?” the interrogator asked in anticipation.
“At our clients.”
“But you do keep the copies for yourself, just in case, don’t you?”
“No.”
“How come?” the interrogator could not believe.
“This is the policy of our company, which distinguishes us from others. Firstly, we play fair game with our customers. They are happy that we do not keep their keys. Secondly – just for the sake of insurance in the situations like mine now. Irrespective of whether I am a coward or a daredevil, irrespective of whether you kill me or spare, you will not obtain keys anyway. Never. Simply because I do not possess them. And thirdly, for the safety of our personnel. Now you have no incentive to kill me as I’ve got no keys. If you do, it will entail a serious international scandal where your country will have to lie, lie and lie to justify the murder. But for the sake of what?”
The interrogator’s face showed deep frustration. He slowly collected his thoughts. Finally, he resorted to intimidation, still unable to believe that there can be firms in the world doing business as honestly as the ‘Traceless Hero’ does:
“I’m not the first year in intelligence, son. You can’t fool me about having no copies of the keys. Very serious charges of aiding terrorism have been brought against you. Your means of communication allow terrorists to transmit non-decrypted messages. This means that either you give us the keys, or you say goodbye to your lovely children, to your young wife, to your beloved friends, to you adorable ‘Traceless Hero’, to your freedom, and perhaps even to your daring head, you understand, don’t you?”
“You should’ve taken a closer look at my CIA dossier prior to interrogation. I haven’t gotten even a half of what you’ve itemized. Do you classify Gazprom as a terrorist organization too by the way?” Antony sneered.
“You have many other clients as well. For example, Venezuelan and Russian oil companies that bypass our sanctions.”
“These companies are not listed as UN terrorist organizations. The sanctions imposed on them are internal scams of the United States and its allies. They are just advisory, but not legally binding at any rate, especially to the companies on the territory of Russian Federation.”
“Your communicators are used by the criminal Assad regime in Syria!” the interrogator barked.
“That regime is also not on UN list.”
“Elections there are rigged! People there are thrown into dungeons and tortured without trial or investigation, in violation of international conventions which Russia has joined too besides!”
“I am not fully aware of what is there, but I clearly see what is here - you grabbed me in a third country and threw me into your dungeons, too, with no lawyer, no investigation and no trial!” Antony retorted.
“We’ve obtained information that you supplied your communications to the Taliban!” the interrogator barked irritably.
“Ha-ha-ha! Do not fantasize.”
The interrogator nodded to the goon, which made a sudden blow to Antony’s chin. Antony overturned to the flow along with the chair, but quickly jumped on back to his feet:
“Hmm, I naively believed that in your democratic country, prisoners are not beaten... as in such countries, like Syria.”
“Guantanamo does not fall under the jurisdiction of the United States, as it is outside their territory,” the interrogator stated in a steel voice.
“Will you torture me by flooding?”
A new blow from the goon, aimed at Antony’s head, hit the block – Antony’s boxing skills has worked. The force of the blow threw him away almost to the front door, but he stayed on his feet. The goon approached him again, but the door to the room suddenly opened and Antony heard a sharp command from behind:
“Stop! Both - leave the room immediately!”
The goon and the interrogator reluctantly obeyed.
The newcomer walked over to the table and sat down in the place of the interrogator. He was in the uniform of a major from the National Security Agency. He was accompanied by a pretty lady, about thirty, in civilian clothes, with firm buttocks under a tight skirt. New comers greeted Antony, but, unlike the previous two, did not reveal their names. With his sixth sense, Anthon sensed an information technology specialist in the lady. To himself he dubbed her Nerda - the female version of the nickname of computer nerds. Nerda lifted a fallen chair and politely invited Antony to sit down again. He did. The major nodded to Nerda and she resumed the interrupted interrogation in a silky voice:
“We apologize for our colleagues. Them are from the CIA, what else can we expect from them?”
“Nothing, apart from medical tests,” Antony translated the Russian joke into English, knowing that the NSA and the CIA dislike each other to say the least.
The silence reigned for a few seconds and then both Major and Nerda burst into loud laughter at once. The atmosphere was discharged. The translation was close enough.
“So, you say that the keys are stored only on the clients’ computers?” Nerda continued still smiling.
“At the clients, but not on the computers, rather in the communicators.”
Upon hearing such news Nerda turned in surprise on the chair and leaned her body closer to Antony, incidentally crushing her bust on the table, which sharply increased the level of testosterone in Antony’s blood.
“Communicator? What it really is? ” she asked.
“It looks like a helmet for astronauts.”
“Helmet?” the major and Nerda both stretched their necks because of surprise.
“Well, yes, helmet. Soundproofed, with external microphone and speakers, internal microphone and speakers, external video camera and display, plus internal visor.”
“What kind of visor?” the major muttered, having noticed that the Russian was staring at his colleague.
“Type of virtual reality gaming glasses, only easier - you don’t need a gyroscope, tracker, accelerometer and other sensors. In terms of functionality, it replaces the internal display and camera.” Antony replied, glancing at Nerda out of the corners of his eyes.
“Your communicators work through the Internet, which means through all sorts of modems, cellular smartphones, ordinary computers, notebooks, netbooks, tablet computers et cetera. So, do these helmets still somehow pass the keys over to computers or devices alike for encryption and decryption?” Nerda asked with genuine professional curiosity.
“No. Encryption occurs only in the communicators themselves. Neither computers nor phones encrypt or decrypt anything. They just pump information through themselves in an already encrypted form and that’s all.”
Antony winked imperceptibly at Nerda. She pretended not to notice and continued in an emphatically formal tone:
“Already encrypted? Well. But in order to transmit encrypted information to or from a computer or smartphone, the communicator still has to somehow connect to that gadget, right? Why haven’t we detected any connected communicators on your clients’ devices then?”
“The communicator does not connect to the computerized devices in any way. In terms of its identification and interaction with the computer, it behaves as a passive device - it reports nothing about itself to no one,” Antony replied slowly, looking at her cleavage.
“Passive? But how then does it all work then?” Nerda tensed under his gaze and straightened up the blouse on her chest.
“The caller says the words inside the helmet, as usual. The internal microphone picks up the voice, digitizes and encrypts it. An encoded voice, resembling the cry of a pterodactyl, is played out by a speaker outside the helmet. It is this sound that goes into the phone or smartphone of the recipient. At the other end, everything happens in reverse order: the encrypted sound from the phone through the external microphone of the helmet is sent for decryption and is reproduced by the speakers inside the helmet as an ordinary human voice. Obviously, that is possible only if both communicators do get corresponding open and closed parts of keys beforehand and do not exchange them never later.”
“In other words, wearing helmets, interlocutors communicate as usual, but if you eavesdrop on their conversation, you will hear the screams of pterodactyls? Brilliant! And how does the video communicator work? ” Nerda looked at the major who did not share her enthusiasm.
“Likewise. Just a video camera is used instead of an external microphone and an internal visor display (in helmet) instead of internal speakers. The surreal encrypted image is read from the computer’s or helmet’s screen by the communicator’s camera. Then, after decryption, it is displayed on the visor inside the helmet in its original form.”
Nerda seemed to have a deep understanding of computer technology, so she froze with her mouth slightly open in surprise. Her exposed white teeth were the same shade of blue as that of the fairy in Antony’s dream! He was fascinated by them.
“Why haven’t we seen the helmets when we’ve intercepted the images from your clients’ computer cameras?” the major snapped.
“On the front of the helmet there is a holder in the form of a pin, on which the computer camera is attached and then focuses so that the boundaries of camera’s view do not go beyond the boundaries of the screen on helmet, thus leaving the helmet virtually invisible.”
The major ran out of questions. He bent over a prepared sheet of his notes. At this time, Nerda threw a lock of her red hair behind her right ear and Antony noticed a mole in front of her earlobe - like that of a Fairy from a dream! There was no wedding ring on her hands. Their eyes met and Antony sent her a bold air kiss. This time, she couldn’t pretend she hadn’t noticed and blushed shamefacedly. To buy herself time, she coughed several times. Then she asked in as flat voice as she could manage:
“It’s no secret that professional cryptographers sometimes manage to crack even theoretically unbreakable ciphers. Why was your communicator proved too hard for them? Did the long key length play the major role here?”
“Only partially. Cryptographers need leads. In classical encryption, they do have them, since the entire file is encrypted, along with the so-called descriptive header, where the file type (Excel, Word, graphics, video, music, etc.), and other technical info are specified in strictly defined positions. Therefore, hackers have a clue - they compare the encrypted file header with the standard unencrypted one. This greatly simplifies their task, as it makes the cipher and key already partially cracked. We do not encrypt the entire file, including its header. We encrypt only file’s content. That is, we do not hide the type of file that we transmit: video, image, sound or text. Our encrypted files outwardly look like ordinary unencrypted files, with the only difference that inside they contain surreal daubs, pterodactyl screams, or gibberish. Since the content is changeable and non-standard, then there is nothing for hackers to catch on to.”
Nerda listened as if mesmerized, with her mouth open again:
“Brilliant! Is this your idea?”
”No, it was of our other employee,” Antony smiled.
“That’s what our compatriot Daniel is doing there, isn’t he?” the major broke in.
Antony hesitated for a second, but it was pointless to hide this fact - they certainly knew it:
“Yes, your former compatriot.
“Why doesn’t he show his nose from Russia?” Nerda asked in a Russian phrase in English and smiled radiantly.
Antony was puzzled. How could this American woman know such specifically Russian aphorism? Or those words had come out of her mouth by chance? Antony decided to find it out and launched another Russian proverb:
“God keeps safe those being kept safe. Daniel clearly sees how USA is trying to capture Snowden and Asange. Definitely, those guys would be more precious to you, but, alas be content with me, ha.”
“Come on, let Daniel take care of himself there further. You are even more suitable for us,” Nerda’s voice was already filled with undisguised sympathy.
The Major frowned.
“How do you know Russian proverbs and sayings?” Antony asked Nerda directly.
“My great-great-grandmother was originally from Russia. The family immigrated here during the revolution - did not accept the collectivization. But I’m not Russian anymore; I have more American blood in me.”
“Anyone with at least one drop of Russian blood remains Russian one hundred percent,” Antony joked confidently.
“Really?” Nerda happily tried to reassure herself in that.
The major was already completely angered by such a frank flirtation between the interrogated and his subordinate. He looked condemningly at Nerda and barked at Antony like a Rottweiler:
“So, with video is clear! What about regular text messages? Do you write them on paper with your hand and just hold it up to the video camera of the communicator?”
“Yes, this is a frequently practiced method. But a keyboard and a mouse may also be connected to the helmet. The communicator also has a built-in very simple graphic editor, through which you can write text or sketch a diagram on the visor. Outside, after encryption, on the external display of the helmet, it will be displayed in the form of a surreal absurd-picture; which will be captured by a computer video camera and sent to the addressee in any way, to helmet or even by e-mail.
“And if you need to send an already existing complex and large graphic file?”
“Albeit not advisable, but it is still possible to load graphics of one of the standard formats from a removable flash drive into the communicator.”
“And if there is a virus on it?” the major brightened up.
“Not a problem. The communicator does not have an operating system in the usual sense, such as Windows, Linux, Android and alike. Most of its technical solutions inside are not software, but hardware. The reading of graphic formats also occurs almost completely at the hardware level, automatically rather than programmatically. Non-standard graphic format or a virus will simply not be read at all. The virus will neither be able live in the communicator, nor even get into it. You have a better chance of jumping to Mars and surviving there.”
“Why do I have more?” the major was surprised like a child.
Nerda giggled silently. Antony, with an impassive face, replied:
“Because on Mars you can be saved by a Martian, whereas in communicator there is no even dead Trojan to give the virus a hand.”
This time Nerda could not restrain herself and burst out loudly with laughter into her hands. The major’s face turned stone and he muttered through his teeth, addressing his speech to both of them:
“What, call back those two from the CIA to finish the interrogation?”
Antony corrected himself:
“Sorry. Because you already know at least something about Mars, but virus writers know nothing about the internal structure of the communicator without conventional operating system.”
“That is, private keys can be obtained only through the physical capture of the communicators themselves?” the major concluded.
“Serious clients usually don’t take communicators to pubs...”
Nerda could hardly restrain herself from laughing again. Antony ran the tip of his shoe along the calf of her leg under the table. Nerda was not up to laughter anymore - she was frightened, blushing and numb with embarrassment.
“Well, and if we still snatch?” the major pressed.
“Almost useless idea.”
“Because there is an additional protection which destroys the key when the helmet is being broken?
“Yes, but not only because of that. You won’t be able to read any past messages, since communicators do not store them within themselves. In is made on purpose.”
“But we still will be able to receive the info, to ask for info and to misinform!”
“Yes. Until our client discovers the loss of communicator. Then, he will erase the key in the communicator with a remote signal. Or he will simply inform his partners on a regular phone that his communicator has been compromised.”
“But if we neutralize the owner of the communicator for a while, so that he will not neutralize the communicator?” the major did not give up.
“Are you prepared to take the risk of capturing a person from the top management of the corporation or high level of government hierarchy? Firstly your operation is likely to fail, as such persons and their communicators are guarded heavily. Secondly, you thereby disclose your presence and your intentions in business and politics. And, thirdly, you criminal actions will certainly fall into the jurisdiction of the Interpol. Moreover, at the end you still have to guess the password with three attempts, otherwise all your dubious endeavors are useless, as the keys will be erased. Is it worth the risk?”
“Usual password? Why couldn’t you use biometrics - iris drawing or fingerprints, for example?” the major snorted contemptuously.
“In departments like yours, huge biometric databases have already been gathered not only on criminals, but also on many respected famous figures. Who better then you know that modern technologies allow, even without the knowledge of a person, to read a drawing of his or her iris through a surveillance video camera, and fingerprints from a sheet of document or any object that the person held in his hands. Biometrics security could be hacked too easily.”
The major has finally been fed up with technicalities and put his head face down over hands on the table. Nerda stood still for a minute and then suddenly blurted out:
“Do you understand what you face in Russia for disclosing such secret information to us?”
Antony looked straight to her eyes. She did not turn them away. They glistened with moisture of fear for him. They displayed the agony of imminent parting. Antony realized that Nerda wanted to be by his side, to save him from death and prison at any cost, even by recruiting him to become the American citizen. Antony was impressed by her sincere impulse. But he had a different plan:
“Nothing threatens me. I work not for the special services, like you, but for a private company. More importantly, I did not give out any technical ‘know-how’ or trade secrets, but only a general description of the product, which the day before my arrest was made publicly available on the Internet site of the ‘Traceless Hero’. A tiny little link ‘additional information’ placed under the main advertisement of our communicator. It was done in order to convince even technically meticulous clients of the absolute reliability of our communications.”
Major and Nerda glanced at each other nervously, turned to the computer and opened the website. Indeed, all the info was in the public domain! The major leaned back in his chair:
“Well, what do you reckon?” the puzzled major asked Nerda.
“I think that the technology of the past century in this case has beaten the modern one. There is no electronic digital contact with computers and telephones. No access to keys. No leads. There is no points of failure,” Nerda replied with mixed feelings.
The major realized that an unforgivable professional blunder has been made. That Antony was useless to them. That even if they torture him to powder, they still will not see the keys as their ears. That they had carried out an extremely risky and illegal operation to arrest him in third country in vain. That his own career prospects are now at stake. That they urgently needed to somehow get themselves out of this vile situation and at the same time save the face of the United States in general and the face of their department in particular. Nerda was also utterly perplexed though with quite different issue.
Antony’s exchange for some minor American spy took place in Thailand in the same hotel room where Antony was captured. His belongings were returned to him. As a matter of fact, this inept and long-disclosed spy was arrested only for this sole purpose. The exchange took place in the presence of the representatives of the special services of both sides and the Thai police. In haste, silently and with no emotions; even boring.
Antony drank from a glass of red wine offered to him by a flight attendant, looked at the clouds overboard and plunged his mind into thoughts about Nerd. How does she envisage Russia? According to the stories of her great-great-grandmother? Fabulous and promising, where all girls are with rosy cheeks like nesting dolls, and the harsh Cossacks drink vodka with bears? Will they see each other someday? He could hardly ever find her. He doesn’t even know her real name. Only she can restore their connection, if she wants - through the site of ‘Traceless Hero’. Antony drank some more wine and suddenly realized that their website in the United States most likely would have already been blocked by now. Even that tiny hope slowly and painfully died out in his head. Apart from that, Nerda, like any employee of the special services, is bound by contractual obligations that limit her freedom. It is hardly possible that she will be able to come to Russia on her own while in the service and for several years after that... It’s a pity. Antony was already well over forty, but still no family, no children ...Happiness smiled to him with many colors, but melted like a rainbow-arc. Okay, sometime in the next life.
“Dear passengers, we ask everyone to sit down and fasten their seat belts. Our liner starts landing at the Sheremetyevo airport.”
Several hours later, Antony, surrounded by Russian intelligence officers, entered the office of the head of the FSB’s Cyber Intelligence Department in Moscow. Already not young, but still dashing campaigner shook his hand, patted him on the shoulder and offered him a chair. Antony sat down.
“Well, Antony, tell us where are the keys?”
Antony disappointed home-grown intelligence agents just as he had previously done with overseas ones. A day later, he finally got rid of them and went to the office of ‘Traceless Hero’. He opened the door of his cabinet - it was jam-packed with funny colleagues! There was cake and champagne on his table! But no one spoke a word. Antony rushed to Daniel to hug, but Victor stopped him with a gesture, put his finger to his lips and pointed to a dense group of employees aside. The group scattered apart and Nerda appeared in front of him in an embroidered Russian sundress.
“Bitter! Bitter!” the crowd chanted inexorably and endlessly.
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