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Nandi versus Virtual Virtuoso (Part 1)A Dustin Barnes Mystery by the LiveSecurity Writers DATELINE: LAS VEGAS. Timing his approach carefully, Virtual Virtuoso strolled toward the three-story-tall electric guitar framing the main entrance to the Big Annual Musical Manufacturer's Conference (BAMMCon). At the last moment, he swerved to the side, falling into step behind a string quartet lining up at the less-guarded Performer's Entrance. His disguise consisted of khakis, an Oxford shirt, and a tie, matching the casual yet professional attire of the musicians. He even carried a viola case. BAMMcon was not open to the public. But Virtual Virtuoso's deceptive skills let him go wherever he wanted. The burly security guard checked the first musician's badge, then waved the group through. Virtual Virtuoso would not even need the authentic-looking Guest Performer pass he'd fashioned using graphics from BAMMCon's Web site, a color printer, and Kinko's laminator. He stepped past the guard, and broke into a grin at the prospect of stealing pre-release audio applications, synthesizer tones, midi sequences, editing software, and cool swag. Phear my skillz! VirtualVirtuoso mentally exulted. For I am leet-- "Hey, stop right there!" barked the security guard. Like Cinderella's carriage at midnight, brilliant and elusive Virtual Virtuoso turned back into a pumpkin. Suddenly he was normal ol' Bernard Ulrich McDermott, whose unfortunate initials had inspired endless degrading nicknames: Bum, Bummer, Berned Bum, Bums of Stool... Bernie froze in mid-step and broke into a sweat. How could his meticulously-crafted scheme fail before he'd even entered the show? Quaking internally but calm outwardly, he turned. "Yes?" The security guard handed him one of the soft ear bud covers from his iPod headphones. "You dropped this." "Oh. Er ... thanks." The sharp-eye guard's gaze lingered on Bernie's moist forehead. "You okay?" "It's my first gig with this group," Bernie lied earnestly. "I'm really nervous." The guard chuckled. "I can see why. They didn't even bother to wait for you!" Bernie saw the heavy doors to the exhibition floor floating shut. Perfect exit line. "Gotta catch up!" he exclaimed, and rushed off, plunging through the doors into a world of noise and confusion. He quickly lost himself in the crowd. Once his vitals had settled down, Bernie stopped and looked around the exhibition floor while he got his Virtual Virtuoso vibe back. The conference space could dwarf a jumbo jet. Standing in the main intersection of the show floor, jostled by distracted attendees, Bernie could hear every kind of music. Street performers hammered dulcimers nearby. Across the aisle, an accordion-maker pumped giddy polka music. Several booths away, an operatic singer belted out an aria. Hidden speakers somewhere blared techno beats with crisp clarity. The only reason he noticed the organ-and-fake-clave music under it all was because he had just walked off his job at the mall organ store two weeks ago. Music vendors from everywhere displayed their wares in outlandishly colorful booths festooned with energetic logos. Yes, Bernie thought, recovering his nerve. Virtual Virtuoso stalks his hunting groundz! Time to snarf some free software. He headed for the Cakewalk booth. As he traversed the dense crowd, he swung his viola case, apparently at random. Onlookers, taking him for an eccentric musician, avoided him and averted their gazes. When he spotted the Propellerhead Software booth, he detoured suddenly, nearly running over two passers-by in cowboy hats. The large Propellerhead booth contained ten demo stations. The staff looked busy with customers. Perfect! He sidled up to the demo PC furthest from nosy onlookers. The iPod on his belt went unnoticed at a music conference, where half the people owned MP3 players. A Firewire cable connected to the iPod disappeared into his pants pocket, snaked through a hole in his pocket up into his shirt, ran down his sleeve and terminated just inside his shirt cuff. Pretending to play with Reason, his favorite all-around music sequencing application, Bernie swiftly slipped the Firewire cable into the laptop's jack. The computer immediately recognized the iPod as an external hard drive. The Propellerheads had set up the computers in kiosk mode, granting users access to almost nothing but their pre-canned demo. Using Group Policy bypassing techniques to cut through the staff's lame protections, Virtual Virtuoso opened Windows Explorer and searched the machine's file system. Jackpot! The staff had left a bunch of installer programs and text files with license keys on the computer, probably in case they needed to re-install the software. He initiated the transfer of several folders to his iPod, then maximized Reason again so no one could see the file transfer in the background. As he waited for the files to copy, he could hardly contain himself. Eat this, ScumRot! Those jerks would be totally sorry they kicked him out of the band. With Reason, Cakewalk, and everything else he'd steal today, he'd create his own one-man act and soon become more popular than DJ Tiesto. The transfer finished. He yanked his cable and quickly slunk back into the crowd. Score! He decided to find a quiet place and verify that his rig was working as planned. BAMMcon provided attendees with curtained-off workspaces where they could field press interviews, have an ad hoc meeting, or check their email. He slipped into one of the curtained cubicles, closing the blue drapes behind him. He plopped his viola case on the table and opened it, revealing a hollow box full of computer equipment. The neck of the case held a homemade yagi cantenna, connected to the wireless card in a Sharp Zaurus PDA. The PDA used Linux OS and ran Kismet, a popular wireless AP sniffer. The case also held his Sony Vaio laptop. He woke it up and connected it to his iPod to transfer his booty. While his new software transferred, Virtuoso checked out Kismet's wireless sniffing results. Wow! Waving that viola case had paid off. According to Kismet, unprotected access points filled the conference. He also noticed the official conference wireless network, which was protected with WPA. However, the key for that network had been publicly announced so that attendees could authenticate. A devious idea hit him. Maybe he'd grant these morons a little thrill, courtesy of the Virtuoso. The plan took shape in seconds. He chuckled smugly. With the library of 'sploits on his laptop, he could implement it in minutes. He cracked his knuckles and started typing, one knee pumping to a beat he alone could hear. ### "Aw, give him a break, Kai," Troy Blount told his co-worker. Both men represented Kunstler & Sons Musical Instruments at BAMMcon, selling K&S ClearBright marching band instruments to wholesalers. "Nandi's been here four hours without eating. We'll be okay for fifteen minutes." Kai, a laid-back California type who resembled Kato Kaelin, looked up at former linebacker Troy. "If anything goes wrong with our demo gear, we're hosed without him." "Ignore this worry-wart," Troy told Nandi. "Go. Eat. We'll be fine." "Thank you very much," Nandi Paradivash said. He scurried away from the booth and its large "Do ya hear what I'm blowin'?" posters. The slim young man from Bangalore had more on his mind than eating. After months of corresponding with Goh Chew Lan via telephone, email, and Instant Messenger, Nandi had developed a long-distance crush on her. Though she was from Singapore and he was from Bangalore, they had much in common. They both had assimilated American culture during their schooling. They both loved computer technology. They both hated office politics. Chew Lan was one of very few girls who could give him a serious workout at Halo 2, which they'd played over Xbox Live. There was only one hindrance to his growing interest in her: he'd never met her. But now, through a pleasant twist of fate that Lakshmi herself must have arranged, Chew Lan's company, ConGlomCo, had sent her to BAMMcon the same year Kunstler & Sons had sent Nandi. She was here. In this room. And he was about to meet her. Nandi ran his palms along the sides of his head to smooth his dark hair into place. In his nervous anticipation, he had used so much hair gel this morning, now his helmet hair nearly sliced his palms open. He turned sideways to fit through the crowded aisle around the Propellerhead booth. One musician caught his eye, striding rapidly away from the demo area while swinging a viola case in all directions. But Nandi had no time for distractions; he had to think of a smooth opening line. Slipping around a stage where two rappers harangued rows of empty folding chairs, Nandi turned and beheld the gigantic ConGlomCo booth taking up nearly an entire aisle of the exhibitor floor. ConGlomCo's video wall flashed images representing their various divisions. A cascade of diamonds poured onto velvet. A massive high-rise dominated the Singapore skyline. A high-angle view showed the entire University of Wisconsin marching band and their dazzling ClearBright instruments, made from ConGlomCo's alloy. In the booth, various ConGlomCo reps, dressed in black slacks and silver-grey button-up shirts, answered questions, took orders at small desks, and guided prospective customers through software demos. Nandi's eager eyes found one small Asian woman talking animatedly with a customer. She wore her dark hair in bangs and a bushy bob that ended at the base of her neck. The boyish style set off her pretty features and petite figure in a way that accelerated Nandi's heart. Yes! Not only was she pretty, best of all, she was shorter than he was! Nandi burst into an impromptu happy dance, which looked like he was changing a light bulb with one hand while smooshing out a cigarette butt with the opposite foot. And naturally, right then was when Chew Lan raised her eyes and spotted him. He froze, feeling his face heat up even as her face spread into a wide smile. Hoping his dark complexion hid his blush, Nandi walked towards her, smiling back. Chew Lan excused herself from a customer who poked at the demo keyboard. She approached with hands extended, palms down, and gave both of his hands a brief but heartfelt squeeze. "Nandi! You're even more yandao than I hoped!" Nandi had corresponded enough with her to know yandao was Singlish for "handsome." Emboldened, he decided to take the direct route. "I tried to think of a notable opening line," he confessed, "but I have none. Other than to say how delighted I am to meet you." Chew Lan's brown eyes sparkled. "Ai fli-end, that's not such a bad line, you know." "Are you allowed any breaks today?" Nandi asked. "Is lunch together a possibility?" "I wish! But my boss is very on." She rolled her eyes in disapproval. "He says no breaks for me until the show floor closes, because they have no other engineer here to explain our JIT software. Can you meet me for dinner?" Nandi sighed. "We have a mandatory meeting. It does not get out until nine tonight." Chew Lan's laugh bubbled. "Cin boh eng ah! Tell you what. Come with me." She led the way to a Dell laptop sitting on a small counter. "Meet after hours, can or not? Say, ten?" Nandi nodded. "Most eagerly! Where?" She pulled up Internet Explorer, surfed to the BAMMcon home page, and clicked the link that read, "Restaurants." "Web connection on the exhibitor floor is so expensive, isn't it?" Nandi commented. "Not this," Chew Lan said. "The show floor has a wireless connection, free to exhibitors." "Ah! Our trade show organizer did not think to ask. Now we are paying needlessly for a wired connection!" Chew Lan found the Web site for the Paris hotel and casino. "You know this place?" "I am staying right across the Strip from it." "They have a lounge where I love to listen to jazz and enjoy some wine. But I can't remember the name of it." Just then, another silver-shirted ConGlomCo employee touched Chew Lan's sleeve. "Excuse me," she said, "but a buyer has a question I can't answer." "Wait for me a moment?" Chew Lan asked Nandi. When he nodded, she winked, and turned away. Nandi crossed his arms and leaned against the counter, trying to look relaxed. One hyper-tapping toe gave away his excited state. While Chew Lan helped others, he kept a discreet eye on her. He loved her mannerisms: the way she disarmed people and made them laugh; the cute way she tucked her hair behind her ear; even her spunky voice. Plus, she was a geek! He was smitten. Bad. Lost in appreciation, Nandi did not notice how many minutes passed before Chew Lan was free again, but when she returned the laptop had timed out to its screensaver. "Where were we?" she asked, logging back in. "Oh yes, the lounge in Paris." She clicked the link for the Paris hotel. The browser went blank momentarily, then came back with the BAMMcon home page. Chew clicked the link again. The same thing happened. "Why like that?" she said. "Looks like a bad link from BAMMcon's home page," Nandi guessed. "It worked before," Chew Lan observed. She used her Google toolbar to enter, "Las Vegas" + Paris. The browser refreshed, then showed the BAMMcon home page again. "Bo le yew leh!" she exclaimed. "May I try?" She stood aside and let him take the keyboard. He hit Alt + V, then C, bringing up the source code for the Web page. He scrutinized the screen for a moment, then stated, "This is a very unusual routine to place in a conference home page." He turned the laptop toward Chew Lan and pointed at the source code. As a Web app developer, Chew Lan had solid HTML skills. She looked at the line above Nandi's finger. "Wah piang!" He scrolled down slowly. "And for a second thing, this code is bad news. Look." "Wah! It looks like a buffer overflow attempt on the BAMMcon site!" Nandi and Chew Lan locked eyes. But it wasn't a gaze of love. It was a gaze of worry. "What should we do?" Chew Lan wondered aloud. Nandi's overclocked brain was already working the problem, which he perceived like this. Result: catch the hacker, and he could catch the girl. To Be Concluded Take me straight to the conclusion, in Part 2! |
