offenses.”
Jacob stood up to defend his team lead, but Roger stopped him before he could speak. “You guys aren’t taking this seriously. Washington Homicide is dying to make a quick arrest for Scammel. If they were here right now, they’d be frog marching Rupinder out in handcuffs. Wouldn’t be a great career move.” Jacob sat down, looking deflated. Roger knew that any kind of criminal activity would end their jobs at the CIA.
Jacob pointed at Kyle. “Tell him about the problems.”
Kyle held his hand up and touched his first finger. “There are three kinds of clusters happening here and all over the CIA. The first are the typical kinds of stuff you see with new users. Can’t find a file. Forgot their password. Went to print a report and got twenty-five copies. I don’t count those as Buzzworm -worthy. Basic DFOs.” Roger knew the term from friends who had worked in computer support at one time. DFO stood for Dumb Fucking Operators.
Kyle checked off the next finger. “The second type you get from more experienced users. Program bugs that crash a system. Phone problems. Access issues.”
Roger heard something that interested him. Med had said the phones were acting up. “What do you mean by phone problems?”
Kyle sat forward on the couch. “Our phones are voice over IP. In other words, they use the Internet. Since they are internet-based, they can’t be tapped. Which the CIA loves. But anything that runs off the all-mighty Internet can be attacked by a mobile virus. We have been having escalating problems over the past two years.”
Jacob smirked. “Escalating. That’s help desk speak for I don’t know what the freak is going on.”
Roger ignored Jacob. He was beginning to irritate him. “What kinds of problems?”
“SWS. Some weird shit . It started with phones ringing to the wrong extensions all the time. So you get a basic filing clerk answering a call from the Deputy Director. That makes everyone look stupid. Or a phone rings and when you pick it up you are patched into a confidential call, and no one else on the call knows you’re there. That’s been happening a lot, but almost no one reports it.”
Roger interrupted. “I don’t understand.”
“Think about it. We're an intelligence organization. We live in a covert world. Most of us don’t even tell our friends we work here unless they beat it out of us. So I get a call one day, and I pick it up and I’m now privy to some high-level security meeting. Who am I going to tell? If I reveal that I know something I shouldn’t, then I’m a security risk. And how do I explain why I was in on the call?”
“Shit,” was all that Roger could say.
Kyle tipped his Coke up and emptied the can. “Like I said, I don’t get a lot of those reported. My guess is it happens every day.”
“Anything else?”
“Just about everything you can think of. Printers that mangle important reports minutes before a top level meeting. I know, it sounds crazy. But it happens with such regularity, it can’t be random. I don’t even know how to hack a printer.”
Roger looked doubtful. Kyle continued. “See? If the four of us sitting here are doubting this, then how do we convince management — people who think a “server” is someone you tip in a restaurant — that this isn’t just run-of-the-mill technology glitches. Cause it isn’t happening to them.”
“It’s not?”
“No. Buzzworm is very selective. Nothing at the Director or Deputy Director level. Yet. So these guys think everything is just fine. Except, of course, the level three threats. They are starting to hear about those.” Kyle pointed to his third finger.
“Go ahead.” Said Roger.
“Level three threats are serious enough that they’ve been passed up to the Deputy Director for Science and Technology. I guess that’s why you got called in. This organization loves technology. But there’s always that love-hate thing happening. When your smart phone decides to re-boot
Jacob stood up to defend his team lead, but Roger stopped him before he could speak. “You guys aren’t taking this seriously. Washington Homicide is dying to make a quick arrest for Scammel. If they were here right now, they’d be frog marching Rupinder out in handcuffs. Wouldn’t be a great career move.” Jacob sat down, looking deflated. Roger knew that any kind of criminal activity would end their jobs at the CIA.
Jacob pointed at Kyle. “Tell him about the problems.”
Kyle held his hand up and touched his first finger. “There are three kinds of clusters happening here and all over the CIA. The first are the typical kinds of stuff you see with new users. Can’t find a file. Forgot their password. Went to print a report and got twenty-five copies. I don’t count those as Buzzworm -worthy. Basic DFOs.” Roger knew the term from friends who had worked in computer support at one time. DFO stood for Dumb Fucking Operators.
Kyle checked off the next finger. “The second type you get from more experienced users. Program bugs that crash a system. Phone problems. Access issues.”
Roger heard something that interested him. Med had said the phones were acting up. “What do you mean by phone problems?”
Kyle sat forward on the couch. “Our phones are voice over IP. In other words, they use the Internet. Since they are internet-based, they can’t be tapped. Which the CIA loves. But anything that runs off the all-mighty Internet can be attacked by a mobile virus. We have been having escalating problems over the past two years.”
Jacob smirked. “Escalating. That’s help desk speak for I don’t know what the freak is going on.”
Roger ignored Jacob. He was beginning to irritate him. “What kinds of problems?”
“SWS. Some weird shit . It started with phones ringing to the wrong extensions all the time. So you get a basic filing clerk answering a call from the Deputy Director. That makes everyone look stupid. Or a phone rings and when you pick it up you are patched into a confidential call, and no one else on the call knows you’re there. That’s been happening a lot, but almost no one reports it.”
Roger interrupted. “I don’t understand.”
“Think about it. We're an intelligence organization. We live in a covert world. Most of us don’t even tell our friends we work here unless they beat it out of us. So I get a call one day, and I pick it up and I’m now privy to some high-level security meeting. Who am I going to tell? If I reveal that I know something I shouldn’t, then I’m a security risk. And how do I explain why I was in on the call?”
“Shit,” was all that Roger could say.
Kyle tipped his Coke up and emptied the can. “Like I said, I don’t get a lot of those reported. My guess is it happens every day.”
“Anything else?”
“Just about everything you can think of. Printers that mangle important reports minutes before a top level meeting. I know, it sounds crazy. But it happens with such regularity, it can’t be random. I don’t even know how to hack a printer.”
Roger looked doubtful. Kyle continued. “See? If the four of us sitting here are doubting this, then how do we convince management — people who think a “server” is someone you tip in a restaurant — that this isn’t just run-of-the-mill technology glitches. Cause it isn’t happening to them.”
“It’s not?”
“No. Buzzworm is very selective. Nothing at the Director or Deputy Director level. Yet. So these guys think everything is just fine. Except, of course, the level three threats. They are starting to hear about those.” Kyle pointed to his third finger.
“Go ahead.” Said Roger.
“Level three threats are serious enough that they’ve been passed up to the Deputy Director for Science and Technology. I guess that’s why you got called in. This organization loves technology. But there’s always that love-hate thing happening. When your smart phone decides to re-boot
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