The Cuckoo's Egg: Tracking a Spy Through the Maze of Computer Espionage by Stoll Clifford

Author:Stoll, Clifford [Stoll, Clifford]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Non-Fiction
ISBN: 9780743411455
Publisher: Pocket Books
Published: 2009-09-30T05:00:00+00:00

34

December was time to print greeting cards and my housemates got together for our annual ink splash. Martha drew the design and Claudia and I cut the silk screens. We figured that we'd avoid offending our zealot friends by keeping the card astronomical: Winter Solstice Greetings!

"We make cards the way you chase hackers," Martha said.

"Huh?"

"Do it yourself," she observed. "Not the way professionals would do it, but satisfying anyway."

I wondered how a real professional would track this hacker. But then, who were the professionals? Was anyone dedicated to following people breaking into computers? I hadn't met them. I'd called every agency I could think of, yet nobody had taken over. Nobody had even offered advice.

All the same, the FBI, CIA, OSI, and NSA were fascinated. A foreigner was siphoning data from U.S. databases. The case was documented—not just by my logbook, but also by massive printouts, phone traces, and network addresses. My monitoring station ran full time—the chances for catching the culprit seemed good.

But not a dime of support. My salary was skimmed from astronomy and physics grants, and lab management leaned on me for systems support, not counterespionage. Eight thousand miles away, a hacker was prying around our networks. Three thousand miles east, some secret agents were analyzing my latest reports. But two floors up, my bosses wanted to slam the door.

"Cliff, we've decided to call it quits," Roy Kerth said. "I know you're close to finding the hacker, but we can't afford it anymore."

"How about another two weeks. Until New Year's Day?"

"No. Close things up tomorrow. Revoke everyone's passwords tomorrow afternoon." In other words, slam the door.

Damn. Three, nearly four months work down the tubes. And just when the trace seemed promising.

Frustrating. The hacker could hide, but he couldn't shake me. My management was the only one who could do that. Just as we were zeroing in on the bastard.

Depressing as well. The hacker wouldn't have any trouble returning to his haunts. He would still roam the networks, breaking in wherever he could. Nobody cared.

I began planning how to pull every user's password. It's easy to do—just rebuild the password file. But how do you tell passwords to twelve hundred scientists? Bring them together in one room? Call everyone on the phone? Mail them notes? I was still bummed out when Mike Gibbons called from the FBI.

"Just checking to see where the trace has led."

"Into Bremen," I said. "A university there."

"So it's a college student, huh?"

"Not necessarily. But we'll never find out."

"Why not?"

"LBL is closing its doors. Tomorrow."

"You can't do that," the FBI agent said. "We're opening an investigation."

"My boss thinks he can."

"Tell him that we're just making contacts in Europe. Whatever you do, don't stop now."

"You're talking to the wrong guy, Mike."

"OK. What's your boss's phone number?"

I wasn't about to draw fire from Roy Keith by asking for another extension. If the FBI really wanted us to stay open, let them deal with him.

Anyway, nobody was supporting me. All those fancy three-letter agencies ever said was, "Gimme." Every agency wanted copies of logs and printouts.

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