Dr. Dobb's Journal October, 2004
To avoid confusion, let me explain right up front that I'm Mike's friend Bernie and I burgle. The burglary is just a hobby, something I do to supplement my income as the bartender at Foo Bar, the late night Silicon Valley hangout that, prior to recent disturbing changes in decor and clientele wrought by the mysterious new ownership, was popular with journalists, Valley executives, and occasionally the ghost of Oscar Wilde. My hobby came in handy recently, as I explained to Mike when we met in our fallback hangout, the Crow Bar.
"Nail down the identity of the new owner of Foo Bar yet?" Mike asked.
"Getting right down to brass tacks, eh? What's that, a screwdriver?"
"Well, that's what I ordered, but when I tasted it, it was kind of a wrench. But you're avoiding the question."
I lowered my voice. "Last week, I broke into Blindside Enterprises and got into the files of the president."
"That's the holding company behind the string of fly-by-night intermediary companies signing the checks these days for Foo Bar, right, Bern?"
"Right. Tom Collins, I think."
"Tom Collins is the president of Blindside Enterprises?"
"Tom Collins is a drink. I'm thirsty. I didn't learn the name of Blindside's president."
"Get a grip, Bern. You just said you were in his files last week."
"I was interrupted by an employee before I found anything."
"That must have been embarrassing."
"It worked out all right. He was a hacker, I'm a burglar: We bonded over a devastating critique of Blindside's security procedures. But I did pick up something at the Black Hat Conference."
"Worrying about that bald spot again, huh Bern?"
"The Black Hat Security Conference. In Las Vegas. It's about computer security."
"It isn't that noticeable, really."
"It's not about hats. It's a conference where security cracking experts explain how to create and deploy logic bombs and self-replicating virii and keystroke monitors, how to bypass authentication systems and perform denial-of-service attacks and break crypto protection measures..."
"Sounds like burglar school. You should have felt right at home."
"The organizers feel that security professionals need to understand attacks extremely well in order to defend against them."
Mike looked skeptical. "But isn't that a little fishy? They don't teach Breaking and Entering 101 in locksmith school, do they?"
"They would if locksmiths were more imaginative. Anyway, the reclusive president of Blindside Enterprises came out of hiding at Black Hat to give a birds-of-a-feather talk on money laundering. And it was your cousin Corbett."
"What was my cousin Corbett?"
"Shouldn't that be, 'Who was my cousin Corbett?'"
"Don't play grammarian with me, Bern. Are you saying that my cousin Corbett is the president of Blindside Enterprises?"
"He said he bought the bar as a tax writeoff."
"Does that mean that Foo Bar was losing money?" I could see that the idea troubled Mike.
"Not enough. That's why he did the redecorating. To run up expenses and drive away customers. At which, I might add, he succeeded spectacularly."
"Well, he is my cousin. But what happens now, Bern? Do you want me to rough him up?"
"Not unless you really want to. He agreed to sell the bar to me for what he paid for it. He said that would give him an adequate loss. He said he didn't want to be greedy."
"Sell the bar? To you? But where did you get enough money to buy the bar, Bern?
"Well—"
"Don't tell me."
"Before I stopped at the president's office at Blindside, I visited the comptroller's office and found a safe, and— well, you know. Force of habit."
"I said don't tell me."
"But now I'll be able to put back all the old wobbly tables and scatter peanut shells on the floor again."
"It'll be like old times."
"Yup. By the way, I liked the mystery story parody you did in your latest column."
"Oh, thanks. Did you recognize the writer I was parodying?"
"Sure, Lawrence Block. For some reason I really connect with his Bernie Rhodenbarr character."
Michael Swaine
editor-at-large