Cyberclipper Read online

  As he turned his back to the city lights, he had a revelation. “What if there were some type of listening device near the data center which could overcome the free-space air-gap between the machines. What could that be?…a cellphone maybe.

  The next morning Auditor Myles called the chief of security. “Arnie, I’m conducting an investigation. Could you have the box of confiscated/lost cellphones brought to my office?”

  “Yes, sir. Right away,” was the chief’s response. Ten minutes later Ben was sorting through about a dozen cellphones laid out on a conference table.

  As he walked around the table in a reflective pose, a co-worker entered the room.

  “Ben, what’s up? He asked.

  “I’m conducting an investigation for Chief Barnes,” replied the senior auditor.

  “Are you trying to decide which cellphone to buy?” joked the co-worker.

  “No, not at all. I’m mulling over a concept that one of these was used in an unauthorized manner over the weekend,” replied Ben.

  “Oh, I see. I’ll leave you to your Sherlock Holmes activity. We’re still on for the Rangers hockey game on Friday, Right?” asked the FED employee.

  “Sure,” replied Ben as his colleague closed the door.

  Wearing surgical gloves so as not to leave or smudge fingerprints, one-by-one, Ben examined each phone carefully. In many the battery was dead. Some were in bad shape as if dropped one too many times on the NYC sidewalk. He tried to make a call on several of them, but the service had been disconnected. By lunchtime, he had narrowed his search to only three remaining candidates which he carefully placed in a box with Styrofoam peanuts and placed a call to the FBI team lead.

  “Sir, this is Ben Myles at the FED. I have a theory, and it’s only a theory, that a cellphone was used to access our computers. I have three candidate phones. Could I ask you to run a fingerprint check on them?”

  The FBI agent answered affirmatively and said, ”I’ll send someone over to pick them up this afternoon. It could take a day or two.”

  Two days later, Ben got a call from a FBI fingerprint lab technician: “Sir, all of the cellphones had been wiped clean, but in one we found two quality prints-a thumb and forefinger-on the battery. The phone itself is not functional; the circuit board overheated. I’ve given the prints to our database specialists. We’ll see if we get a match.”

  Meanwhile, in Monaco, three police cars were parked in front of the Casino. Inside the building the Managing Director was briefing the detectives about the possible theft of $100 million. And in the Middle East, Blue Clipper III was nearing Dubai’s Maritime City.

  17

  INTERPOL

  In his sixth-floor office at the International Criminal Police Organization (INTERPOL) headquarters in Lyon, France, Nigel Stark, a Londoner, got a call from the Monaco police requesting help in an investigation of missing casino funds. Mr. Stark specializes in organized crime, white collar crime and, if related, computer crime.

  “Detective Stark, so nice of you to take my call, and I sincerely hope you’ll take my case,” stated the detective on the other end of the line.

  “Well, sir, I’ve been involved in a casino robbery before. Yes, based upon your report, it’s clear that you need assistance to crack this case,” replied Detective Stark. “I’ll do my best.”

  “Detective, is this an inside job in your opinion? “You know embezzlement or theft by an employee?”

  “No, Sir,” came the response across the phone’s speaker. “All of the employees who had access to the computer’s encryption account have passed lie-detector tests,” replied the detective in Monaco.

  “Well, we’re a worldwide organization with 800 employees representing over 100 member countries. And we have some of the best computer crime geeks on the planet. We’ll do our best to get to the bottom of this. It seems similar events have just happened in the United States. The possibility of organized crime being involved has not been ruled out.” said Detective Stark.

  “Thank you, Detective Stark. I look forward to your findings. $100 million is a lot of money, even for our world-famous casino.” finished the Monegasque as the call ended.

  18

  BLUE GENE GIFT I

  “Captain Crowley, the containers are here for your cargo,” came a sailor’s voice over the intercom.

  “Thank you,” replied the Skipper. “I’m coming down to the cargo deck to receive them.”

  As the Skipper made his way down the spiral staircase, he thought to himself: “These padded containers have been in storage in Dubai and were flown here at great expense.”

  The next day, a group of five technicians from IBM arrived and immediately set to work dismantling the rows of connected cabinets forming the supercomputer.

  “So where is this supercomputer headed now?” asked the lead IBMer.

  “Ha-ha. You’ll be surprised,” said the salty Skipper. “Only one-half mile from here to the National Museum of Bermuda for their Nautical Research Institute to study the erosion of the reefs around the 138 islands which comprise Bermuda.”

  “That’s a good cause,” said the IBMer. “But how does a small institute afford a machine of this caliber?”

  Captain Crowley replied, “It’s a gift from the owner of this megayacht.”

  It took the five technicians a week to dismantle and pack up the sanitized Blue Gene L supercomputer for truck transport down to end of Pender Road where the museum is at Land’s End.

  It took another four-days for the team to dismantle the computer center, complete with the megapower modules which were donated to the city of Hamilton as back-up generators, much to the delight of the mayor. Both Captain Crowley and Dr. Raviv inspected the cargo bay to ensure there were no signs of computer power aboard the Blue Clipper I. A checklist was emailed to the Prince who then issued a sailing order: “Proceed to Monaco to Pier 16 when safe to do. May Allah be with you.”

  On board, only the Skipper and the guru knew it would be the last voyage of the Blue Clipper I.

  19

  BLUE GENE GIFT II

  Captain Caselli was on the bridge if the Blue Clipper II when he was informed of the arrival of the Blue Gene shipping containers on the pier at Cabo San Lucas. The Prince’s plan was executed with precision as the next day a group of IBMers arrived from California to disassemble and pack the supercomputer. The process was delayed by one day due to bad weather caused by a rare hurricane in the Pacific Ocean. But on the sixth day a convoy of five padded van trucks picked up the containers. They were headed for the Geological Institute in Mexico City. The Institute was only charged for the transportation costs as a gift from the megayacht owner.

  Captain Caselli and the First Mate used the Prince’s checklist to ensure there was no trace of a computer center. They were so proud of the clean-up effort, they let the Harbormaster, Katie Flynn, inspect the cavernous space. She commented: “The Prince sure has room for all of his toys down here. I can see why it was once a ferry boat.”

  Captain Caselli sent his checklist to the Prince who responded: “Please proceed safely to the Burrard Dry Dock Pier in Vancouver, Canada.” The Skipper suspected that “HIS” Blue Clipper would be sold to a Ferry Company, but he wasn’t sure. All he knew was that the four-day voyage would end with a bittersweet parting with the crew.

  At the Maritime City in Dubai, the last of the Blue Gene containers were being loaded into the padded vans as the Prince and Captain Jolie looked down from the bridge.

  “Your Highness,” asked the Skipper, “Where is the cargo headed?”

  Without taking his binoculars away from his eyes, the Prince replied: “The cargo is bound for the Prince Abdulaziz Hospital and Research Center in Riyadh, Saudi Arabia. It’s a gift from Prince Khalid.”

  The Captain smiled his approval. He then asked: “And this ship. What will happen to it, Sir?”

  The Princ
e was quick to reply. “Thanks to our yacht broker in Monaco, we already have several offers from royal families here in the region to keep it a megayacht.”

  “By the way, I’ve written a glowing fitness report about your professionalism, Captain. And Carnival Cruise Lines would like to talk to you about a Captain’s position based out of Miami about ten miles from where your cigarette boat is docked.”

  A feeling of pure joy overwhelmed the Skipper.

  20

  ON THE TRAIL

  In his conference room in Lyon, Detective Stark asked his cybersecurity team:

  -How do we access a computer?

  -How do we break or bypass the encryption code?

  -Is a supercomputer the only machine that can do it in a short time?

  What supercomputers are near the robbery sites?

  -New York city- 38 miles away in Yorktown

  -San Francisco-44 miles away in Livermore

  -Monaco-no known supercomputers

  -These machines are huge with at least 48 racks of equipment and energy hogs. How could someone hide one?

  -Who makes supercomputers up to this task?”

  From the audience came a resounding response: “IBM.”

  “OK. I agree. Where is the nearest IBM Cybersecurity Center of Excellence?”

  From the audience came the answer: “Ben Gurion University in Beer Sheva, Israel.”

  “OK,” replied Detective Stark. “Armin, you will join me in Israel next week.”

  “Yes, sir,” was the young man’s answer who has relatives in the Holy Land.

  “Dr. Wetzel, you visitors are here for your 9:00AM meeting,” came over the intercom.

  “Thank you, Amy. Please show them into the conference room and offer coffee,” said the Dean of Cybersecurity Research Center at Ben Gurion University, in part funded by IBM.

  “Will do,sir.”

  As the two guests sipped their coffee at the conference table, a short, balding engineer with round spectacles entered the room followed by a line of young people, presumably cybersecurity “geeks.”

  Detective Stark and thanked his host for seeing him on short notice. “We’re from INTERPOL, here is my badge, sir,” as the Brit held out his hand: “I’ll get right to the point. We’re here to try to solve a $800 million robbery.”

  “How can we help you?” asked Dean Wetzel.

  “Sir, it’s an honor to be here where so many important cyber intrusion detection programs have been developed and are in use around the world today,” responded the detective.

  “Thank you, sir,” replied the Dean. “We enjoy our work, and many say we’re pretty good at it.”

  “We’ve had a rash of potential cyber thefts in the last two weeks, and we need to solve the case quickly, I mean very soon!” started Detective Stark. “We believe that a supercomputer may have by-passed the encryption codes of major financial institutions and stolen hundreds of millions of electronic funds without leaving a trace. In your collective wisdom, who could pull this off and how? Indeed, the funds disappeared from computers which were air-gapped. Do I make myself quite clear Dean?”

  “You’ve come to the right place, Detective Stark,” replied the Dean. “I’m sure we can help. And as you know, we have our reputation to uphold. We solve the tough ones!”

  The young gurus sitting along the wall all chuckled as they knew the Dean had never let a client down in his 23 years of service to the cyber community.

  “Here are my files, digital and hard copy,” said the detective as he pushed a stack of large envelopes across the table.

  Detective Stark then ended the meeting by saying he was only a telephone call away, and that the host governments of the United States and the Principality of Monaco needed a quick resolution of the thefts, ahead of a very curious media.

  “Well, we’ll do our absolute, best, sir,” responded the Dean. “But this is not an exact science, and it may take longer than it is politically acceptable. If you know what I mean?”

  “Sir, I perfectly understand,” stated the detective. “We just need to get to the bottom of this before financial markets overreact with major sell-offs.”

  “Sir,” said the Dean, “I fully understand the severity of the situation, and why you are sitting across from me. I will report progress as soon as I have news.”

  A week later Detective Stark got an email from the Institute: “Amira Atara, the guru in this banking domain, has fallen off the planet. I suggest you track her down. My guess is that she will know something about this affair.”

  21

  MONACO

  “Wellcome, Your Highness,” greeted the doorman at the Hotel de Paris Monte Carlo. “Your party is already at your table.”

  Prince Latif glided across the marble floor of the lobby and into the mirrored dining room. Seated in the corner was Nikki Villefranche. As the Prince neared the table, she rose and slightly bowed her head as she extended her arm for a handshake. The Prince shook her hand and patted her on the back with his other hand. A warm smile came over his face. He sat down, ordered Perrier and briefly looked at the menu.

  He then started the conversation: “I need your help, my dear. I have three megayachts for sale”

  “What?” exclaimed the super saleswoman as her jaw dropped in disbelief.

  “Your Highness,” she continued. “You’ve only had the yachts for less than two years. They are hardly used.”

  Prince Latif was quick to respond, “I have no further use for them. I want them sold within 90 days. Thanks to you, I may have a buyer in the Middle East already.”

  “And where are they now?” Asked Nikki.

  “One is in Vancouver; one is in Dubai and the third one will be here shortly,” answered the Prince. “All three are in a ferry boat configuration, ready for somebody to tailor the cargo deck as desired.”

  “I’ll pull out all of the stops, Your Highness,” responded Nikki. “I’m upgrading my Dardanelle and can use the commissions.”

  I see,” said the Prince. “And the sale price is exactly what I paid for them 18-months ago. No higher. Is that clear?”

  “Yes, Sir!” replied the Prince’s obedient servant. “I’ll draw up the contracts this afternoon for your signature this evening if you allow me to host dinner on my boat.

  “How can I refuse?” asked the Prince with a sly grin on his face.

  “Perfect, then it’s settled, say about 7:30,” responded Nikki, also with a sly grin on her face. “Oh, and, of course, please plan to stay for dessert.”

  The Arab gentleman knew exactly what she meant.

  22

  LYON

  “Detective Stark, I think I found a match in our visa database for this Atara woman you’re looking for,” said an analyst over the phone in his Lyon office.

  “Very good, Greta, please email the dossier, directed the detective.

  “Will do, sir,” replied the Intern from Germany.

  Moments later Detective Stark was reviewing the file on Miss Amira Atara. This Israeli woman was educated at Columbia University in New York City but was an Israeli citizen. She had earned an international reputation for keeping bank accounts secure. As she was a frequent speaker at symposiums, her passport had dozens of visa stamps.

  The detective observed that her last three county visits were Bermuda, Abu Dhabi and Dubai, all major banking centers. He then sent an email to his representatives in these three countries to be on the look-out for this attractive 34-year old woman who was tall with long dark hair and resembled the actress, Natalie Portman.

  That evening as Detective Stark was enjoying an Arturo Fuente Don Carlos #3 cigar and cognac, the same questions came up in his mind over and over: “How did the robbers break the 123-character encryption code, and if by computer, where is it? And if the computers at the Federal Reserve were, indeed,
air-gapped, how could the files be extracted simultaneously?”

  The more he thought about the crimes, the more the seasoned Sherlock Holmes realized that there was a new element to cybersecurity that had to be discovered soon, before more huge sums of money were missing.

  “There must be some genius behind this, and, hopefully, if he robs again, he’ll slip us, and we’ll catch him.”

  Even after an adult beverage, sleep did not come easily that evening.

  23

  SCUBA

  “Honey, I’m so glad we’re taking this trip; I really need a break from NYC,” said Audrey Goldman as she settled back into her business class seat on an El-Al flight from New York to Tel Aviv.

  “I agree, honey, the timing is just right,’ replied her husband, Steven. “I’m looking forward to just relaxing on the banks of the Sea of Galilee. It’s been our go-to place now for twenty-years. It won’t let us down this year,” replied the loving husband as he reached over and stroked her on the arm.

  After an uneventful flight, the couple passed through security to flag down their limousine for the trip to the northern city of Tiberias. An hour later, they unpacked in their apartment on the 7th floor of a condominium with an unobstructed view of the Sea beyond the city just below.

  “Honey, let’s have dinner at our favorite restaurant tonight and go scuba diving tomorrow,” said Audrey.

  “Sounds great to me,” said her husband of 28-years.

  The next morning the couple’s breakfast consisted if fresh bagels, lox and cream cheese along with strong, Turkish coffee at their bistro table on the balcony.

  “What a glorious day for a scuba dive,” said Audrey as she put down the newspaper.