The Black Book Page 5

  "Hi, I'm Dawn. I'll be serving you tonight. Our special is fresh mountain trout almandine with new potatoes. For desert, we have apple strudel. Would you like a few minutes to look at the menu?"

  While she was waiting for an answer, Dawn put her arm around Meyer's shoulder and rested her hip at his side, looking over his shoulder. With anyone else, any place else, it would have been out of place. With Meyer, it all seemed as natural as breathing. There was something about him that young women trusted and liked. He smiled at her, and for a brief moment, I may as well have been on the other side of the world. My presence wasn't noticed or required.

  "What a wonderful child you are Dawn. What would you recommend that we have?" Meyer asked.

  "Have a steak. The trout isn't as fresh as we usually serve."

  "Thank you. Bring us large steaks, medium, and coffee to drink. We'll let you fill in the details."

  Dawn gave him a wink, and walked away toward the kitchen. All I could do was look at Meyer in awe.

  "You know Meyer, if you could bottle that, you would make a fortune."

  "It's no secret M. Young women like Dawn can sense when you like them for themselves. It's simply a matter of being interested in them."

  "But you don't know her from Adam."

  "No. I do not. But I can tell you that Dawn is from a well to do family, in spite of which she is working her way through school. Her fiancée will be here to pick her up in two hours, and he has longish brown hair."

  "I'll bite. Where did all that come from?"

  "Elementary my dear M. Her shoes were well worn, but high priced; obviously purchased while she was still at home with her parents. She didn't write down our order, which tells me she is bright enough to be in school. Yet, while she is too young to be one herself, she was using an expensive drafting pencil preferred by architects. She is wearing an engagement ring, and she had two strands of long brown hair on her shoulder. You may have noticed that she was a blond."

  "That doesn't explain how you knew her boyfriend would be here in two hours to pick her up."

  "Don't you pay attention to anything M? The menu clearly states that the dining room closes at 11:00 PM. The rooms here are much too expensive for her to be staying at Clark House, and there were no other cars in evidence that she might be likely to drive home in."

  "I'm beginning to think I'm blind. I hope your talents extend to planning sieges."

  "Well, let's start with first things first, one thing at a time. What exactly is the target of this siege?"

  "A compound owned by the Aryan Nation. I know it's here from what Sue said, and what I got over the Internet. I just don't know exactly where."

  Dawn came back to our table then, carrying two cups of coffee. Meyer greeted her with the same smile, and thanked her for the service.

  "Dawn, we're looking for property in the area. Perhaps you could help us. We've heard that there is a group of skinheads in the area, and we would like to stay away from the area they are in. Do you know where they might be located?"

  "Oh sure. Everyone around here knows where they are. We don't like it much, but there isn't anything we can do about it."

  She bent over the table and studied the map for a second, then placed a small "x" on the map.

  "That's where their compound is. If you stay away from that, you'll be fine."

  Before she left again, I said, "How are the classes coming?"

  "Oh great! I just finished my finals and I think I did well. I'll graduate next spring."

  "Architecture?" Meyer asked her with another smile.

  "Yeah, with a minor in structural engineering."

  Meyer gave a little chuckle as she walked away. "Oh ye of little faith." He said.

  I looked down at the map, and studied the area around the "x." It was fifteen or so miles out. There were roads close by, but we couldn't tell much else. Tomorrow, we would have to do some reconnoitering, and look for a better map. There should be somewhere around to get a U.S.G.S. topological map that showed contour lines.

  We split a half bottle of Chateau Neuf du Pape over the steaks, and then finished up with the apple strudel and more coffee. Just before we left to find our beds, a young man with long brown hair pulled up outside. Meyer didn't say a word.

  Chapter 10

  Squatters rousted from local ranch

  Shots fired

  By: Neil Owens

  Northern Idaho Sentinel

  May 29 - Sheriff's deputies removed a small band of squatters from a local ranch yesterday. Three men and two women from Los Angeles claimed that they had a right, by possession, to forty acres of the Lazy T ranch, ten miles east of Hayden.

  Deputy Bob Wheeler noted that the group even had a clipping from a California newspaper to back up their claim. After checking with authorities, the deputies informed the group that they were trespassing on private property, and would have to leave.

  One of the men in the group attempted to pull a gun on the deputy. In the process, the gun discharged, wounding the man's foot. Sheriffs arrested the man, and sent to Kootenai Medical Center in Coeur d'Alene, where he is listed in stable condition.

  Deputy Wheeler warned, "Don't be fooled by fictitious stories. There isn't much free around here, and you will be arrested if you trespass."

  Copyright Northern Idaho Sentinel. All rights reserved.

  Outfitting Meyer in western wear took up the first hour after breakfast. We managed to find him a few pair of stone washed jeans, and some faded plaid shirts so he wouldn't look like too much of a tenderfoot. I drew the line when it came to getting him fitted for boots. We spent the extra money for a pair of Tony Llama's in soft gray sharkskin. Looking funny is one thing sore feet are another. A warm sheepskin coat finished off the list. He put his city clothes in a bag, and wore the new outfit for our drive in the country. It was clear that he was enjoying his new persona.

  "Well podner, whacha think?"

  "Meyer. I think you should lose the affectation. For the same reason, I didn't buy you a ten-gallon hat. In contrast to the stereotypical western man portrayed in Midnight Cowboy, people out here just don't talk, walk, dress, or act that way. Jeans aren't a fashion statement. They are what you wear to be comfortable. If you can't get into a place wearing jeans, then it probably wasn't somewhere you wanted to be anyway."

  "Ok. I'll behave. What do you think our next move should be?"

  I took one look at the hurt expression on Meyer's face and said, "Well, I reckon we should saddle up and mosey on out of town." He could have lit a candle with his smile.

  "On a more serious note M, have you heard anything about the computer tinkering we did?"

  "No. I really don't expect to. I left several presents on their system. The first one has already been opened. It was a denial of service attack on CERT, the people who keep track of Internet attacks. The next attack should come any time. Mr. Gates has a very low opinion of people who attack his kingdom. In both cases, the FCC and the FBI will track the offenders down to a machine in northern Idaho."

  We drove in silence for fifteen beautiful miles. The hillsides were covered with the deep green of pine trees, and the valleys the lush green meadows. A clear blue sky set them both off. We did fine for that short while, and then things got a bit tense.

  *****

  Larry Sikes looked at his new partner. The man was an animal. He even ate like an animal. His name was "Berg," as in Iceberg. He was big, blond, and greasy. Two weeks ago, the Fremont County Jail had sent Berg walking down the road on his own recognizance. His Brotherhood connections on the inside had landed him a job on the compound as a guard. In Sikes' opinion, they should have let him keep walking.

  "What the fuck are you doing Berg? We're supposed to be guarding the gate."

  "You guard it wimp. I'm busy."

  "Boss man ain't goin to like it."

  "Boss man ain't goin to hear about it."

  "Look, Berg, put the girly-magazine down and p
ick up your rifle. We got a job to do here."

  "You dissing me boy?"

  "No, Berg, I'm trying to help you."

  "I think you're dissing me." Berg said getting to his feet. "You want some of me right now pussy?"

  "Not now, there's a car coming. Get your goddamn rifle and get over here."

  "Fuckin pussy."

  Sikes chambered a round in his rifle and stepped out to stop the Jeep.

  *****

  "Who are you and what do you want?"

  "I guess I might be wondering the same thing about you." M said. "Hunting season hasn't opened yet."

  "I ask you a question mister. I expect an answer." With that, he leveled the rifle at M.

  "Whoa. Slow down there partner. My name is Murphy. We're looking for land in the area. No reason to get alarmed."

  "Well, there ain't no land in the area. Turn your ass around and get out of here."

  "No problem. If you'll point that thing somewhere else, I'll back this around and we'll leave."

  M had just looked over his shoulder to back up when Berg came up to the side of the Jeep. He reached in through the driver's window taking M by the shirt.

  "You fuckers want to play? Come on out here. We'll play a bit."

  Without missing a beat, M dropped the gearshift into drive, then took a tight grip on Berg's hand and floored the gas pedal. The Jeep lurched forward, throwing Berg sideways into the other guard and knocking them both to the ground. The tires spun, shooting gravel into the pair as M pulled hard on the wheel to do a U-turn. "You might want to get down Meyer. I believe we are about to be shot at." The first blast took out the rear window of the Jeep, exiting through the left side.

  "Can you see where we're going while you're scrunched down like that?" Meyer asked.

  "No, but I don't expect much traffic." The next round ricocheted off the blacktop as they raced down the highway.

  After a minute, M eased up in his seat. "I think it's safe to get up now."

  "Tell me M, now that we've seen the enemy what are your plans?"

  "Well, my immediate plans are to drive back to the hotel for a lunch. We're expecting guests."

  "How can you think about eating at a time like this? We've just been shot at!"

  "Yah, but I don't think they really meant it. Besides, after people shoot at you for a while, you learn to eat and sleep when and where you can."

  Chapter 11

  DoS worm invades Microsoft servers

  By Robert Lemos

  ZDNet News

  June 2, 11:12 AM PT

  A program created to automatically flood Microsoft's Web and e-mail servers has been discovered on several corporate networks and may have spread further on the Internet, anti-virus researchers said Friday.

  Discovered this week, the worm--dubbed DoS.Storm--infects Microsoft Web servers and then scans for new machines to infect, floods Microsoft's main Web site with data, and sends a deluge of obscene e-mail to an apparently invalid address for Microsoft Chairman Bill Gates. "This is one of the trends that we are going to see more and more of: the crossover between the hacking and virus writing, and moving away from e-mail-borne worms," said Vincent Weafer, director of software maker Symantec's anti-virus research center.

  The worm spreads by exploiting a known flaw in Microsoft's flagship Web server software, called the Internet Information Service (IIS). The vulnerability, dubbed the "Web server folder traversal" flaw, affects Microsoft IIS 4.0 and 5.0.

  Although Symantec researchers found the flaw last October, the security hole had been fixed by a previous patch released in August . Once it infects a server, the worm starts scanning 10 million Internet addresses, looking for more vulnerable servers to infect.

  The worm also initiates an attack on Microsoft, sending a flood of data to overwhelm its Web servers. Known as a denial-of-service (DoS) attack, almost 4,000 such attacks take place every week, according to a recent study.

  Microsoft Web sites were crippled by a series of DoS attacks in January. In addition, the worm will send a constant stream of e-mail to "gates@microsoft.com" with the message "F**k you!" The address is believed to be invalid, causing the e-mails to bounce back to the sender.

  Microsoft representatives were not immediately available for comment.

  © ZD Inc. All Rights Reserved. ZDNet and ZDNet logo are registered trademarks of ZD Inc. © Ziff Davis Media.

  All Rights Reserved.

  In the parking lot at the Clark House, Doc sat behind the wheel of a WWII duce-and-a-half towing a camouflaged semi-trailer. He watched with interest as M pulled into the lot, then stepped down, and walked over to the Jeep.

  "Don't look now M, but I think the men in black have arrived."

  Doc was dressed from head to toe in black, with extra dark Foster Grants to top it off.

  "Yo, bro."

  "Don't worry too much Meyer. It's only my brother, Doc."

  "My god! You mean there are two of you?"

  "What in the hell are you dressed up for Doc?"

  "It's all part of the persona M. From the looks of your back window, I chose just right. When night falls, I want fade into the shadows."

  "Yah. I guess you're right. Doc, meet Meyer, eminent economist and knight errant."

  "Hi professor."

  "Doc. It is a pleasure to meet you. I hope you aren't too much like your brother."

  "Nope, he got the money, I got the good looks and all the brains."

  "We'll see how much of the brains you got bro. Let's go in and get a drink. I'll show you the maps."

  They walked into the Clark House. M stopped at the front desk to see if they could arrange to have the window on the Jeep fixed while Meyer and Doc headed for the small lounge.

  "What do you have in the trailer Doc?"

  "A little bit of everything professor. I've got some fine parabolic equipment, and a state of the art speaker system. Also, a two thousand pound bomb."

  "I thought we were here to save Travis, not blow the hell out of the place."

  "Not to worry professor. I took the liberty of replacing all of the explosives."

  "Then what good is it? Not that I can think of anything I'd like to blow up."

  "Well professor, do you remember Viet Nam? I once heard a story about…” They turned the corner just before Angel came through the main entrance.

  "Hi babe!"

  "Don't babe me M. I'm here. Now where is your friend?"

  "Well, he hasn't arrived yet. Fact is, we have to go get him. Why don't we get you checked in? We can worry about him when you're comfortable. I've got the adjoining room."

  "In your dreams fool."

  "Here. Let the bellboy take your bag. Doc just got here. He's in the bar with Meyer. Let's go have a drink with them."

  Doc and Meyer were deep in conversation as they joined them in the bar.

  "So, what you mean is that sound waves are just like waves in the ocean. They are additive based on phase?"

  "That's right professor. Now, if we split the sound waves into component frequencies, and modulate the phase through multiple directional speakers, we get the same sound at the point of intersection. Everywhere else all you can hear is white noise."

  "But what if the subject is moving?"

  "No problem. I got a radar from an old ground to air missile system. I tweaked it a little, so now it tracks based on a laser signature. All we have to do is keep the subject painted."

  "And no one around him can hear a thing?"

  "Well, the human ear is a wonderful thing. It can hear a pin drop across the room. It doesn't take much of a sound wave to get it going."

  "Amazing."

  "Meyer, I'd like you to meet Angel. She's our medical team."

  Meyer stood up. "Truly a pleasure my dear. How is it you've fallen in with bad company like M?"

  "I'm not sure Mr. Meyer. M heard somewhere that 'you are what you eat.' He saw me at a McDonald's and decided I must
be hot, fast, cheap, and easy."

  "Please, just call me Meyer dear."

  "Ok, Meyer. I'm pleased to meet you too. Hello Doc. It's been a while."

  "Much too long. I'm glad to see you're here."

  They all looked out the window as a psychedelic Volkswagen bus tore through the parking lot billowing smoke behind it. It was painted with flowers, and the stereo could be heard through the windows in the lounge.

  "It looks like we've slipped through another time warp." Doc said.

  "Not at all my friends," Said a voice from behind them. "That was my fuzz-buster."

  They turned to see a neatly dressed Hispanic businessman dressed in a conservative gray suit. He carried an old leather briefcase. His dark brown hair was styled, and he had a trimmed mustache without one hair disturbed. He could easily have been mistaken for a big city lawyer, or a guest host on Fantasy Island.