back to Ballon's comments about Hausen being a headline grabber.
Having been a politician himself, Hood understood that good press was important. But he wanted to believe that this man was sincere. And in any case, there wasn't going to be press coverage in France.
A politician's Catch-22, he thought wryly. No one to report on our triumphs if we succeed, but no one to report on our arrest and humiliation if we fail, either.
As Hood was about to return to the cabin, he had an urgent summons from Stoll.
'Come here, Chief! Something's happening on the computer!' There was no longer a frightened tremolo in the voice of Op-Center's technical genius. Matt Stoll's voice was thick, concerned. Hood made his way quickly across the soft white carpet.
'What's wrong?' Hood asked.
'Look what just hacked its way into the game I was playing.' Hood sat beside him on the right. Nancy moved from her seat on the other side of the cabin and sat on Stoll's left.
Stoll pulled down the window shade so they would have a better view. They all looked at the screen.
There was a graphic of a vellum-like scroll with gothicstyle printing. A white hand held it open on the top, another on the bottom.
'Citizens, hear ye!' it read. 'We pray you will forgive this interruption.
'Did you know that according to the Sentencing Project, a public-interest group, one third of all black men between the ages of twenty and twenty-nine are in prison, on probation, or on parole? Did you know that this figure marks a ten percent rise from just five years ago? Did you know that these blacks cost the nation over six billion dollars each year? Watch for us in eighty-three minutes.' Hood asked, 'Where did this come from, Matt?' 'I have no idea.' Nancy said, 'Don't break-ins usually occur through interactive terminal ports or file-transfer ports—' 'Or E-mail ports, yeah,' Stoll said. 'But this break-in isn't originating at Op-Center. This scroll came from somewhere else. And that somewhere else is probably very well hidden.' 'What do you mean?' Hood asked.
'Sophisticated break-ins like this are usually done through a series of computers.' 'So can't you just follow the trail backwards?' Hood asked.
Stoll shook his head. 'You're right that these boobs use their computer to break into another, then use that one to break into another, and so on. But it's not like connect-thedots where each stop is a single point. Each computer represents thousands of potential routes. Like a train terminal but with hundreds of tracks leading to different destinations.' The screen cleared and a second scroll appeared.
'Did you know that the unemployment rate among black men and women is more than double that of white men and women? Did you know that an average of nine out of the ten top records of the country this year were performed by blacks, and that your white daughters and girlfriends are purchasing over sixty percent of this so- called music? Did you know that only five percent of the books in this country are purchased by blacks? Watch for us in eighty-two minutes.' Hood asked, 'Is this appearing anywhere else?' Stoll's fingers were already speeding over the keyboard. 'Checking,' he said as he typed 'listserv@cfrvm.sfc.ufs.stn.' 'This is a group that discusses Hong Kong action films. It's the most obscure E-mail address I know.' After a moment, the screen changed.
'I happen to think that Jackie Chan's potrayal of Wong Fei Hong is the definitive interpretation. Even though Jackie's off-screen persona is visible in the characterization, he makes it work.' Stoll said, 'It's safe to say the interlopers only went after the gamers.' 'Which makes sense,' Nancy said, 'if they're going to be offering hate games to that market.' 'But they wouldn't be offering them aboveboard,' Hood said. 'I mean, one wouldn't find their ads in the Internet Yellow Pages.' 'No,' Stoll agreed. 'But word spreads quickly. Anyone who wants to play would know where to find them.' 'And with the Enjoystick providing an extra kick,' Hood said, 'kids who didn't know any better would certainly want to play.' 'What about laws?' Nancy said. 'I thought there were restrictions on what you could send through the Internet.' 'There are,' Stoll said. He returned to the scrolls on Mufti-User Dungeon and sat back. For the moment, his fears were clearly forgotten. 'They're the same laws which govern other markets. Child pornographers are chased and caught.
Advertising for hit men is illegal. But rattling off facts like these, facts you can find in any good almanac, is not illegal.
Even when the intent is clearly racist. The only crime these people have committed is breaking into other people's rooms. And I guarantee this message will be gone in a few hours, before network officials can get close to locating them.' Nancy looked at Hood. 'You obviously think this is Dominique's doing.' 'He has the capability, doesn't he?' 'That doesn't make him a criminal.' 'No,' Hood agreed. 'Killing and stealing do.' Her eyes held his for a moment, then dropped.
Apparently oblivious to the others, Stoll said, 'There are touches on this scroll which remind me of the game in Hausen's office.' He leaned forward and touched the screen.
'The shading under the curl at the bottom of the scroll is blue, not black. Someone with a background in publishing might have done that out of habit. During color separations, deep blue shadows reproduce richer than blacks. And the molded colors of the vellum, giving it a solid look here' — he touched the still-scrolled section at the top— 'is similar to the texture of the deer skin in the forests of the other game.' Nancy sat back. 'You're reaching.' Stoll shook his head. 'Of all people, you should know the kinds of flourishes designers put in their games. You probably remember the early days of video games,' Stoll said. 'The days when you could tell an Activision game from an Imagic game from an Atari game because of the designers's touches. Hell, you could even tell a David Crane game from the rest of the games at Activision. Creators left their fingerprints all over the screen.' Nancy said, 'I know those early days better than you think, Matt. And I'm telling you Demain isn't like that. When I program games for Dominique we leave our personal vision at the door. Our job is to pack as many colors and realistic graphics into a game as possible.' Hood said, 'That doesn't mean Demain wasn't behind the game. Dominique would hardly produce hate games which looked like his regular games.' Nancy said, 'But I've seen the portfolios of the people who work up there,' she said. 'I've been sitting here thinking about their graphics. None of them work like this.' 'What about outside designers?' Hood said.
'At some point, they'd still have to come through the system,' she said. 'Tested, tweaked, downloaded— there are dozens of steps.' 'What if the entire process were done outside?' Hood asked.
Stoll snapped his fingers. 'That kid Reiner, Hausen's assistant. He said he designed stereogram programs. He knows computers.' 'Right,' said Hood. 'Nancy, if someone did design a game on the outside, what's the fewest number of people who would see the diskettes at Demain?' She said, 'First of all, something that dangerous would not come in on diskettes.' 'Why not?' Hood asked.
'It would be a smoking gun,' she said. 'A timeencoded program on a diskette would be proof in court that Dominique was trafficking in hate games.' 'Assuming they didn't erase it once it was uploaded,' Stoll said.
'They'd keep it until they were sure everything went off as planned,' Nancy said. 'That's how they work here.
Anyway, an outside program like that would have to be modemed to a diskless workstation.' 'We've got those, Boss,' Stoll said. 'They're used for highly sensitive data which you don't want copied from the file server— the networked computer— onto a local diskette.' Hood was at the limit of his technical know-how, but he got the gist of what Stoll was saying.
Nancy said, 'The only people who have diskless workstations at Demain are vice-presidents who deal with information about new games or business strategies.' Stoll erased the program on his laptop. 'Give me the names of some of those high-ups who have the technical chops to process game programs.' Nancy said, 'The entire process? Only two of them can do that. Etienne Escarbot and Jean-Michel Horne.' Stoll input the names, sent them off to Op-Center, and asked for a background report. While they waited, Hood addressed something that had been roiling around inside him ever since he'd spoken with Ballon. The Colonel had been less than enthused about Hausen's participation. He'd called him a headline-grabber.
What if he were worse than that? Hood wondered. He didn't want to think ill of someone who seemed a good man, but that was part of the job. Asking yourself, What if? And after listening to Hausen talk about his Luftwaffe father he was asking himself, What if Hausen and Dominique weren't enemies? Hood only had Hausen's account of what had transpired in Paris twenty-odd years ago. What if the two were working together? Christ, Ballon said that Dominique's father had made his fortune in Airbus construction.
Airplanes. And Hausen was a goddamned pilot.
Hood carried his thinking a few steps further. What if Reiner had been doing exactly what his boss wanted?
Making Hausen look like a victim of a hate game in order to sucker Op-Center, Ballon, and the German
