"Gresh, Lois - Termination Node" - читать интересную книгу автора (Gresh Lois)

Jose was quiet. He was staring at System clean, his eyes narrowed, his hair damp with sweat.
"Look."
The screen displayed all running computer processes. The hacker was back on the server. He was sending a terminate signal to the operating system:
powerman>kill -TERM 1
"He's shutting us down," Jose whispered. "He's deadlocking all programs, running in s mode."
"He's operating as the system console," Judy said. "He's taking over."
She stared at the screen, her heart racing, half from excitement, half from fear. In all her years of hacking, she'd never encountered anyone this bold and this well hidden. There was no way to trace him, no way to stop him.
The system knocked down to single-user mode, the single user being the hacker from Helraze.
"He'll destroy system memory." Jose's voice was thick with fright. "He'll destroy the operating system."
Then a new thought struck him.
"All my money's in there," he said, his voice practically a whisper. "How will I pay the rent? Landlord pulls it electronically from my Laguna account. How will I prove my digicard had five thousand dollars on it whenЧ"
Judy cut him off, "LookЧall of my consulting money's tied up in the bank, too. If this guy wipes out the system, thousands of people are going to be flat-dead broke."
Backups? Were the computer's backup systems sufficient to handle such a nightmare?
No. They'd restore only the transactions and accounts that existed as of last night. Better than nothing, but hours' worth of transactions would be lost.
And it would take forever to unravel the mess.
The screen flickered. A fireball appeared, followed by the large red letters DNS, then . . . nothing. Black.
Judy blinked. She shook her head, suddenly feeling dizzy. "He's gone."
The hacker had disappeared. Instantly, the system rolled over and rebooted back to multiuser mode. Soon the fractals glimmered into view, a forever wonderland of infinite penetration.
Jose stared at Judy. He had to be thinking the same thing she was: No proof. There had been no financial losses. No hard evidence of what had just taken place. Bank management would never believe them. The attack, the takeover, made no sense.
Unless, it had been .. . practice.
2
Nine in the morning, and still in yesterday's clothes. The wrinkled orange shorts with the bleach stains, the faded lilac T-shirt over the blue bikini top. Same red socks that had padded aross the tiles at Laguna Savings last night.
Judy felt like a soiled clown.
Except nothing was funny.
"How long will it take to fix the mess at Laguna?" Steve Sanchez perched in the blue velvet chair behind his deskЧfake-antique, oak-stained, laminated plywood. Kind of a bonzo desk foi a guy who owned a Computer security company that was worth mega mill ions.
But then, Steve always told Judy that old-time, cozy home digs relaxed his customers Чand cast the illusion that Steve was an old-time honest businessman. That was the important part.
In Judy's opinion, there never had been such a thing as an old-time Honest businessman.
Steve pried the cuticles off his nails with a paper clip. His eyes darted from the clip to Judy, from the clip to Judy. He was waiting for an answer, wanted a quick response, so he could get her out of the office and get on with his day. Jittery, as usual, too hyperЧas if his blood pumped the morph without needing synthetic ingredients.
Dark chiseled hair, high cheekbonesЧSteve was a handsome man. His sharp black eyes sparked with excitement, intelligence . . . and total focus.
Aside from the computer on his desk, there was no equipment in his office. Just fake-antique plywood bookshelves, fake potted plants, his velvet throneЧeven the velvet was fakeЧand a plush reclining chair for visitors.
Judy didn't feel like sitting in the recliner. The seat was too high, made her feet dangle over the floor, made her feel like a midget or a little kid. Made her feel diminished.
The point of the visitor's chair, no doubt.
She stared out the window at a mutated banana tree: genetically altered so it wouldn't grow fruit. "What about DVD? When do we finish that?" she asked without turning.
"Rodriguez will be here any minute. The guard will flash a note on my computer. We pacify Rodriguez, then you go fix the Laguna problem. But I need a time frame, Judy."
Pacify Rodriguez without any sleep. Oh, great.
"Oops. Rodriguez is here earlier than I expected. The security guard just let him in, Guess it's show time. This won't take long, then I need to know about the bank."
There was a knock at the door, and Steve rose from behind his desk. At five feet eight inches, he was six inches taller than Judy. He wore a tan linen suit, complete with tie and cuff links.
By the time she moved from the window, Hector Rodriguez and Steve were shaking hands, rah-rahing each other like best friends . . . good to see you, buddy . . . how's the wife? . . . we gotta get together for that drink sometime soon . . . and blah blah blah,
Like either one of them cared.
Hector Rodriguez wore fancier clothes than Steve. Navy suit, white shirt, paisley tic, black polished shoes. Another handsome guy, charming actually, with a smile that almost made her feel like he was real.
But of course, he wasn't. He was executive vice president of the southwest region of Widescreen DVD, the second-largest video sales chain in the United States. He knew when to turn on the charm, and when to turn it off.
Rodriguez smiled at her.
He had come here to get something from her.
"Hello, Miss Carmody." He settled into the recliner and swept his eyes over her body. She had no idea what he thought of her. She could never tell with these guys. With Judy, there was never any of that rah-rah buddy stuff going on. She was a girl in a man's universe.
She sat on the edge of the windowsill, now glad to be wearing her mismatched, silly outfit, It gave her a twinge of power, allowed her a kind of twisted rebellion against skirt suits or anything remotely smacking of professional clothing.
When she didn't answer, Steve scowled at her, then walked around the desk and back to his throne. "Judy doesn't say much, she just observes."
"Observing is fine," Rodriguez said, casting her another dazzling smile. "1 pay Miss Carmody to observe, and to fix. I'm interested only in results."
It was too warm in here. It was too warm everywhere. Why couldn't this meeting take place on a webvid? What were those freaking conference applications for?
Personal contact was the key to good business, Steve always claimed. If so, Judy was locked out.
She had to say something.