Free The Canton Connection by Fritz Galt Page A

dealt with the public or business counterparts.
    “Welcome to the NSA,” a tall man with wire rimmed glasses said. His shoulders were stooped as if he had spent his whole life hunched over a computer keyboard.
    “Agent Jake Maguire, FBI.”
    “I hope we didn’t do anything wrong,” the leader said jokingly.
    “Naw,” Jake assured him. “This investigation is centered on a murder case.”
    The ring of men looked at each other. The topic of murder seemed to force them to think of the world on a more human level.
    “I’m Calvin Stickler,” the leader said. “Please follow me.”
    Jake and Corporal Jones fell in behind the rapidly moving group.
    Jones was a public relations guy, but seemed to take an interest in Jake’s mission. “I had no clue what you and Major Simpson were talking about,” he told Jake. “Sure hope these eggheads can help.”
    Stickler pressed several keys on a cyber lock and opened up what turned out to me nothing more than a small conference room. If he stayed there much longer, Jake knew he’d catch the same paranoia.
    When they sat down, there was absolute silence. Jake couldn’t even hear computers whirring.
    The silence was even more unnerving because Stickler and the other men wore blank expressions as they waited for him to speak. It would take hard work to extract information from an agency devoted to listening and saying nothing. But Jake was on a special mission from the Director of the FBI, and he would kick down whatever doors he needed.
    He began. “I’m here because of a murder that took place in Virginia last week. The man who was murdered ran a company called Quantum, Inc.”
    He looked around at the faces, but saw no sign of recognition.
    “The witness to the crime is a young woman named Stacy Stefansson, who runs the A root server.”
    This time, he detected some concern.
    “The FBI is in the process of determining the identity and motive of the murderer. We believe that there might have been some sort of relationship between the victim and the witness, Ms. Stefansson, and we’re trying to find out what that was.”
    “Why don’t you ask Ms. Stefansson?” Stickler asked.
    “I did question her,” Jake said. “But she was not particularly forthcoming, and we can’t force her to talk.”
    “Do you suspect someone is trying to compromise the A root server?” another man asked.
    “Yes, we do. And that’s where we need your help. It turns out that Quantum is a Chinese-American-owned and -run firm. They provide the encryption software to access the A root server.”
    Stickler turned to a man at the end of the table, a slightly built nerd with a pocket protector. “Do we have historical records of access to the server?”
    The man looked taciturn, and his words confirmed his mood. “Maybe.”
    Stickler turned back to Jake. “So we may be able to fill in information for you as to when the server is accessed and possibly from where.”
    “I want that done immediately, if not sooner,” Jake said. He made a note in his notebook to follow up with them. He had to pursue all lines of investigation. “I want past and present usage of the A root server, and I want to be alerted if it’s accessed from within China.”
    Stickler frowned. “Not China.”
    “This is the internet,” Jake said. “Can’t you point to a particular computer or company in China that is directing attacks?”
    “China is a black box,” Stickler said. “From where we sit, once computer information disappears into the black box, we have no idea where it goes. We only have limited ability to monitor internet traffic internally within China. And all that has to be covert. There is no public information on where the traffic originates, or where it ends up.”
    “Can’t you tell from the IP addresses?”
    “China has obscured all the addresses in several ways. For one thing, they don’t rely on one computer. They have many different servers grinding away. Then they re-address IP addresses