policy.
“David, I’m going to speak frankly.” She looked confident, almost condescending. “You’ve presided over two of the worst domestic tragedies this country has ever suffered, and yet, despite the best advice of your staff, you haven’t slept in nearly two days.”
No one backed her, but she felt strong in her conviction.
“I’m the leader of the most powerful country in the world,” Venable responded. “The commander in chief. You think I can just walk upstairs, kiss the wife good night, and call it a day?”
His incredulous smile made the room even more tense. This was a new administration, a White House fracturing between two very strong personalities.
“Yes,” she said. There was no doubt in her voice. “That’s exactly what you need to do. How long will you stay up? Three nights? Four?” She turned to the others, but they had no intention of sticking their noses in this. “You may be president, David, but you’re still just a man. Don’t forget that.”
Venable’s smile fell flat. He should have gone with his gut and refused Beechum as his running mate.
“Call the vice president a helicopter,” he ordered. “She’ll be going to that secure location as soon as possible. It seems the continuity of government protocols demand it.”
V
Tuesday, 15 February
02:33 GMT
Albemarle Building, New York, New York
VIRTUALLY THE ENTIRE seventeenth floor of Borders Atlantic’s corporate headquarters had been set aside for security operations. From satellite transmissions to computer interfacing and product development, Borders Atlantic depended on high technology for its very existence, and it seemed that everyone, from competing corporations to foreign governments, had tried to probe its secrets. The seventeenth floor represented its innermost ramparts.
“So it’s the algorithms?” Sirad asked. She stood beside Ravi, who she had gotten to know quite well in the past twelve hours. “That’s our vulnerability?”
“That’s just what Dieter thinks, but he doesn’t really understand the problem,” Ravi answered. Despite access to some of the most powerful and sophisticated computer mainframes in the world, the diminutive New Delhi native had opted to test his theories on an old-fashioned blackboard.
“Here’s the real issue.” He began with two boxes and a circle in what to Sirad looked like a simple isosceles triangle. “Code-making is simple in theory. Borders Atlantic wants to pass information from one cell phone to another.”
He pointed to one of the boxes, demonstrating his point.
“That information is relayed in microwaves, which travel line of sight. Because of the curvature of the earth and physical obstructions, we need to raise our repeaters up high on towers, or in the case of our Quantis system, launch them into low earth orbit.”
Ravi drew lines and arrows, connecting the cell phone boxes with the circular satellite, filling in the slanted walls of his communications pyramid. Sirad considered all of this rudimentary, of course, but saw no point in disturbing his thought process.
“The problem for cryptographers is twofold. First, the microwave is easy to intercept anywhere in the transmission/reception conduit; microwaves cannot be shielded from intrusion like hard lines. Second, you need keys to encrypt the transmission and decrypt the reception. Those keys are based on algorithms, which rely on random numbers. It’s all mathematics. If you can figure out the code-maker’s math, you can figure out and break his code.”
“Simple enough,” Sirad said, folding her arms. Ravi knew she oversaw the entire Quantis project. Why was he offering her a tourist-level orientation?
“Yes, of course.”
He wiped his chalk from the board, moved to the upper left-hand corner, and began to write. Letters. Numbers. Greek symbols. The chalk tapped and scratched against the slate surface with such speed and force, Sirad stepped back to avoid the flying shards.
“Without
“David, I’m going to speak frankly.” She looked confident, almost condescending. “You’ve presided over two of the worst domestic tragedies this country has ever suffered, and yet, despite the best advice of your staff, you haven’t slept in nearly two days.”
No one backed her, but she felt strong in her conviction.
“I’m the leader of the most powerful country in the world,” Venable responded. “The commander in chief. You think I can just walk upstairs, kiss the wife good night, and call it a day?”
His incredulous smile made the room even more tense. This was a new administration, a White House fracturing between two very strong personalities.
“Yes,” she said. There was no doubt in her voice. “That’s exactly what you need to do. How long will you stay up? Three nights? Four?” She turned to the others, but they had no intention of sticking their noses in this. “You may be president, David, but you’re still just a man. Don’t forget that.”
Venable’s smile fell flat. He should have gone with his gut and refused Beechum as his running mate.
“Call the vice president a helicopter,” he ordered. “She’ll be going to that secure location as soon as possible. It seems the continuity of government protocols demand it.”
V
Tuesday, 15 February
02:33 GMT
Albemarle Building, New York, New York
VIRTUALLY THE ENTIRE seventeenth floor of Borders Atlantic’s corporate headquarters had been set aside for security operations. From satellite transmissions to computer interfacing and product development, Borders Atlantic depended on high technology for its very existence, and it seemed that everyone, from competing corporations to foreign governments, had tried to probe its secrets. The seventeenth floor represented its innermost ramparts.
“So it’s the algorithms?” Sirad asked. She stood beside Ravi, who she had gotten to know quite well in the past twelve hours. “That’s our vulnerability?”
“That’s just what Dieter thinks, but he doesn’t really understand the problem,” Ravi answered. Despite access to some of the most powerful and sophisticated computer mainframes in the world, the diminutive New Delhi native had opted to test his theories on an old-fashioned blackboard.
“Here’s the real issue.” He began with two boxes and a circle in what to Sirad looked like a simple isosceles triangle. “Code-making is simple in theory. Borders Atlantic wants to pass information from one cell phone to another.”
He pointed to one of the boxes, demonstrating his point.
“That information is relayed in microwaves, which travel line of sight. Because of the curvature of the earth and physical obstructions, we need to raise our repeaters up high on towers, or in the case of our Quantis system, launch them into low earth orbit.”
Ravi drew lines and arrows, connecting the cell phone boxes with the circular satellite, filling in the slanted walls of his communications pyramid. Sirad considered all of this rudimentary, of course, but saw no point in disturbing his thought process.
“The problem for cryptographers is twofold. First, the microwave is easy to intercept anywhere in the transmission/reception conduit; microwaves cannot be shielded from intrusion like hard lines. Second, you need keys to encrypt the transmission and decrypt the reception. Those keys are based on algorithms, which rely on random numbers. It’s all mathematics. If you can figure out the code-maker’s math, you can figure out and break his code.”
“Simple enough,” Sirad said, folding her arms. Ravi knew she oversaw the entire Quantis project. Why was he offering her a tourist-level orientation?
“Yes, of course.”
He wiped his chalk from the board, moved to the upper left-hand corner, and began to write. Letters. Numbers. Greek symbols. The chalk tapped and scratched against the slate surface with such speed and force, Sirad stepped back to avoid the flying shards.
“Without
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