Part 6 (2/2)
”Sure thing, killer.” Sam smiled.
”So what are you in for?” Kiwi asked. ”You're cyber, too, right? I saw the CDD van when you arrived.” He saw Sam's quizzical look and elaborated. ”Cyber Defense Division. Homeland Security boofheads.”
Sam shrugged. ”They reckon I was somewhere I shouldn't have been.”
”Where?” Kiwi asked.
”I'm not admitting anything,” Sam said.
”Yeah, yeah, same, same, but what did they accuse accuse you of breaking into?” Kiwi asked. He sat down on the gra.s.s beside Sam and crossed his legs like a first grader on a teacher's mat. you of breaking into?” Kiwi asked. He sat down on the gra.s.s beside Sam and crossed his legs like a first grader on a teacher's mat.
Sam looked at him and decided that he was an unlikely snitch.
”The White House,” he admitted at last.
Kiwi's jaw dropped. ”No way.”
”That's the accusation,” Sam said.
”The White House! That's impossible. You'd never get near it. It's on GovNet; it's air-gapped and Therminated. You wouldn't have got within a hundred miles.”
He wasn't quite as dumb as he looked, Sam decided.
”The White House,” he confirmed.
”Oh, that's funny.” Kiwi laughed. ”How far did you get?”
”Could have peed in the presidential john if I'd wanted to.”
”No way of the dragon!” Kiwi breathed.
”How long have you been here?” Sam asked. ”How long did you get?”
”Just three years,” Kiwi said. ”'Cause of my age. Woulda been worse if I'd been older. I got one year here at Recton, then a couple of years upstate. After that I'll be repatriated. Sent home to New Zealand. Kicked out, in other words. How about you?”
”I dunno,” Sam said. ”I haven't been officially charged with anything yet, as far as I know. I haven't seen a lawyer, haven't been to court. Nothing like that. I haven't even spoken to my mom.”
”Right,” Kiwi said knowingly. ”CDD.”
”What does that mean? How long can they keep me here?” Sam asked.
”Long as they want,” Kiwi said. ”They got me under the Fraud Act-that's criminal. But they would have got you under the Terrorism Act. Since Vegas, if they call it terrorism, they can do what they want with you. You'll stay here till you turn eighteen; then you'll head upstate to a real prison. With the adult prisoners. Good chance that they'll throw away the key and forget you ever existed. Sorry, mate, but I'd rather be in my shoes, if you know what I mean.”
Kiwi must have seen the look on Sam's face, as he added quickly, ”You should e-mail your mum, let her know that you're okay. There are computers in the library.”
”There's a library?” Sam asked.
”Over by the admin block.”
”With computers?”
9
THE LIBRARY
The library was old and, if it was possible, even more wooden than the long hallways and bedrooms of the dormitory block.
The tables were scrawled over with graffiti, most of it obscene. There was shelf after shelf of books, but Sam didn't stop to investigate just yet. First stop was the computer table.
There were four computers in all, separated by wooden part.i.tions. Only the first one was in use. The user was a rat-faced boy with the word ”Bada.s.s” tattooed, not professionally, on the back of his neck.
Sam chose the farthest computer.
He sent a quick e-mail to his mom, a.s.suring her that he was okay and not to worry; then he browsed around the computer, seeing what was available to the inmates.
It was a standard HP computer, running a Microsoft operating system. But it was locked down tighter than any computer he had ever seen. Net Nanny, WebMarshal-the list went on-all bound into a managed environment so the user couldn't reconfigure the machine in any way.
Internet Explorer was available, but only a restricted list of sites was accessible. Solitaire and Minesweeper were the only games, although one of the allowed Web sites was a chess site where you could play against people from all over the world.
One way of pa.s.sing the time.
The prison e-mail program was allowed, as were a few utilities like calculators and spreadsheets.
Other than that, there was nothing.
Nor was there any way of loading software onto the computer. The keyboard, mouse, and screen were the only accessible parts. Everything else was locked away in a solid-looking cupboard below the table.
A sign affixed to the top of each computer warned that any attempt to interfere with the computers would result in their being removed.
That would be one way to get yourself noticed, Sam thought, and become highly unpopular with the other inmates. Still...
Sam played solitaire until Bada.s.s left, and he kept a careful eye on the door to make sure n.o.body else came in.
He didn't know where he was, and he didn't know how long he would be staying, but he did know that he was sitting in front of a computer. And that computer was connected to the prison network.
And despite the warning sign on the top of the screen, he couldn't resist the temptation.
To have a go.
Just once, to see if it could be done.
Control+Alt+Delete: the basic reset keys did nothing. That was no surprise.
The spreadsheet program was the key. He was surprised that they allowed it, but that had to be plain ignorance.
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