Chapter 19 Chapter two

Fett sat in the dining room of his home in Los Altos, listening to "Death of a Salesman" on the Walkman. However, he who was leaning over the laptop was a little distracted and couldn't concentrate.The experience of escaping death at St. Francis High School had terrified him deeply.I remember him holding a shivering Jamie Turner and standing aside - the two of them watched poor Iron Boots struggle in the agony of dying together, and at the same time warned the boy to stay away from the computer.At this moment, Sean called urgently, interrupting his deceptive tirade.Sean told him that the police were on their way to the school at the moment.

Fett sprinted out of St. Francis High School at full speed and got away just in time, as police patrol cars surrounded him from three directions. How on earth did they find out? Panicked as he was, but—a master of multiplayer role-playing games and a master strategist—Fate knew there was only one thing to do when the enemy was about to get his way. That is to strike again. He needs to find a new target.He scrolled through the computer catalogs and opened a folder called "General Machine Week," which contained information about Liera Gibson, St. Francis High School, and other Silicon Valley would-be targets.He read the articles published on the websites of local newspapers: Some reported on movie stars, writing about how they were suspicious of ghosts and trees, and they needed armed entourages to escort them before they would go out; some reported on political figures, writing about how they supported unpopular terms; There is something about abortion doctors, saying that these people are almost living in a safe fort, and they are safe and sound.

Who should I pick?he thought.Who could be more challenging than Poser and Liella Gibson? Then his eyes caught on to a newspaper article that Sean had sent him about a month ago.The article reported on a family living in an affluent area of ​​Palo Alto. High defense in a high-tech world Donald W. has made a name for himself.But he was not happy. Donald, 47, agreed to be interviewed on the condition that his sex name not be revealed.He is currently the CEO of one of the most successful capital investment companies in Silicon Valley.While anyone else might brag about the achievement, Donald has tried to keep it under wraps, refraining from talking about any aspect of his personal life.

He did so for good reason: Six years ago, while negotiating a deal with an investor in Argentina, he was kidnapped at gunpoint and held for two full weeks.The company paid an undisclosed ransom to free him. Later, Donald was found by the Buenos Aires police, and although he was unharmed, he has since been a different person. "When death is right in front of you, you realize that a lot of things in the past have been taken for granted. We always think we live in a civilized world, but it's not at all." Donald, like a growing number of wealthy Silicon Valley executives, is now taking security seriously.

He and his wife even chose a private school for their eight-year-old only daughter, Samantha, because of its tight security. Great, Fate thought, and started surfing the Internet. Needless to say, the anonymity of these characters only brought a little inconvenience. Ten minutes later, he had successfully entered the computer system of the editorial department of that newspaper and browsed the notes of the reporter who wrote the article.Soon, he got all the details about Donald Wingert: he lived at 32983 Hesperia Road, Palo Alto, and his wife was Joyce, 42 years old, and her maiden name was West. Erla, who has a third grader, attends the Kenny Palosara School at 2346 Reed Vista Drive, also in Palo Alto.He also learned that Wingert had a brother named Owen and a wife named Kathy, and that Wingert hired two bodyguards.

Some MUD game fans will think that hitting the same target twice in a row—in this case, a private school—is a bad idea.But Feit believes that doing so is completely sensible and can catch the police by surprise. He scrolled slowly through the document again. what do you want to be Patricia Nolan said: "You're not going to hurt him, are you? He's not like a dangerous guy. You know him." Frank Bishop grumpily responded that they would not shoot Gillette in the back, and besides, there were no other guarantees.His answer wasn't very polite, but right now his goal was to capture the fugitive, not to comfort the fugitive-loving security advisor.

The phone in the lobby of the investigation team rang. Tony Mott picked up the phone, nodded vigorously as he listened, and opened his eyes a little wider than usual.Bishop frowned, wondering who was on the other end of the phone.Mott said in a respectful voice: "Please wait a moment." After speaking, the young police officer handed the microphone to Bishop, looking as cautious as if it was a bomb. "Looking for you," the officer murmured vaguely, "I'm sorry." Sorry?Bishop raised an eyebrow. "It's Washington, Frank. The Pentagon." Pentagon.It was past 1:00 in the morning.East coast time.

Here comes the trouble... He picked up the phone. "Hello." "Officer Bishop?" "Yes, sir." "My name is David Chambers. I am in charge of the Department of Defense Criminal Investigation Unit." Bishop shifted the receiver, as if what was about to be heard would be less damaging to the left ear. "I've heard from various sources that the Northern District of California issued an interim release order for a general inmate. This order may be related to a person of interest to us." Chambers added quickly, "Not on the phone. Mention the man's name."

"That's right," Bishop replied. "Where is he now?" He could paralyze the world economy in Brazil, Cleveland, Paris, or hack the New York stock market. "Under my custody," Bishop said. "You're a California State Trooper, aren't you?" "Yes, sir." "How on earth did you get a federal prisoner released? And more seriously, how did you get him out as an ordinary prisoner? Not even the warden at the San Jose Correctional Facility knew anything about it... At least claiming he didn't know." "The Federal Supreme Prosecutor and I are friends. We closed the Gonzalez serial murder case together two years ago and have been working together ever since."

"Are you in charge of a murder now?" "Yes, sir. A hacker has broken into a civilian's computer and used the information stolen from it to reach his victim." Bishop watched Bob Sheldon's concerned expression and put his finger to his throat.Sheldon rolled his eyes. Sorry…… "You know why we're taking this guy, right?" Chambers asked. "Probably has something to do with him writing software that attacks your software," he said as vaguely as possible.He guessed that in Washington there were often two kinds of conversation going on at the same time: one inside and one out loud.

"First of all, it is illegal for him to do so, and if the things written by this person flow out of the country, it is treason." "I understand this." The other party was silent for a while, and Bishop continued to ask: "You want to put him back in prison, right?" "right." "Three days on the probation order," Bishop said firmly. There was laughter from the other end of the phone. "I just need to make a phone call, and I can immediately turn that instruction into toilet paper." "I think you can do it, sir." There was a pause. Then Chambers asked, "Your name is Frank?" "Yes, sir." "Well, Frank. Tell me cop-to-cop: Is this guy going to help solve the case?" Except for a little trouble... Bishop responded: "Very helpful. You see, the criminal is a computer whiz. We wouldn't be a match for him without the assistance of a man like the one I was talking about." Another pause.Chambers began, "Listen to me—I personally don't think he's the devil incarnate, as people say here. There's no solid evidence that he hacked our system. But there's a lot of people in Washington who think he did. He did it, everyone here in the Ministry of Defense calls him a beating. Once he does something illegal, he must go to jail. However, he is always innocent until proven guilty. I agree with this supportive attitude." "Yes, sir," Bishop added cautiously, "Of course, you can also think about it. If even a child can decipher that code, maybe you want to re-edit a more secure one." The police officer thought: It's over, this sentence alone may get me fired. But Chambers laughed."I'm not sure the standard 12 software is as good as it's claimed to be," he said. "But a lot of people here who work in encryption don't want to hear that. They don't like being exposed, very, very reluctant to be exposed by the media." .Here's an Assistant Deputy Secretary here, Peter Kenyon, who would be terribly worried if he thought that this unnamed man might have a chance of getting out of prison and end up in the papers. Kenyon is Head of the task force responsible for the production of Standard 12." "I still don't understand." "Kenyon didn't know the lad was out of prison, but he heard some rumors. If he did find out, it wouldn't end well for me or for a lot of people." Weighed it carefully.Then Chambers said: "Before I came into this circle, I was also a policeman." "Where is it, sir?" "Navy Gendarmerie. Mostly in San Diego." "Stopped some fights, right?" Bishop asked. "That depends on whether the army wins. Listen, Bishop, if that boy can really help you catch a criminal, well, you can keep him until the probation expires." "Thank you sir." "You don't need to say that you understand that if he goes to attack someone's website or escapes, then you are dead." "I understand, sir." "Keep in touch at all times, Frank." The phone is silent. Bishop hung up, shaking his head. Sorry…… "What's going on?" Sheldon asked. Bishop was about to explain when Miller burst into cheers of success. "Found him!" he yelled excitedly. Linda Sanchez nodded, looking tired. "We managed to discover the list of websites that Gillette was logged on to before he fled." She handed Bishop some typed papers.It was mostly incomprehensible text, computer symbols, and bits of data and text that seemed meaningless to him.But among the debris, there were still some airline names and information about flights from San Francisco International Airport to other countries that night. Miller handed him another piece of paper. "He also downloaded this—the bus schedule from Santa Clara to the airport." The pear-shaped officer grinned broadly—presumably having recovered from his earlier humiliation. "But where does he have the money to buy a plane ticket?" Sheldon yelled in bewilderment. "Money? Are you kidding me?" Tony Mott sneered. "He's probably in front of the ATM right now, taking all of your bank deposits." Bishop suddenly remembered something.He walked to the phone in the analytical lab, picked it up, and pressed redial. The officer chatted with the person on the other end of the phone, then hung up. Bishop told everyone about the conversation. "The last number Gillette called was the Goodwill thrift store in Santa Clara, two miles away. The store was closed, but the clerk was still there. He said a man who looked like Gillette was about Walked into the store at twenty minutes. The person bought a double-breasted black men's raincoat with a belt, a pair of white jeans, an Oakland A's hat, and a sports backpack. The clerk remembered this person because he He kept looking around, looking very nervous. Gillette also asked the clerk where the nearby station was. There is a station near the store, and it is also a stop for the shuttle bus to the airport." "About forty-five minutes by car to the airport," Mott said. He checked the pistol and stood up. "You can't, Mott," said Bishop. "Let us go with experience." "Let me go," demanded the young man. "I'm in better shape than ninety-nine percent of the force. Bike a hundred miles a week and run two marathons a year." Bishop said, "We didn't pay you to go after Gillette. Stay here. Or just go home and rest. You too, Linda. Whatever happens here with Gillette, we're the same." Be prepared to work overtime to find the killer." Mott shook his head, very disappointed with Bishop's order, but reluctantly agreed. Bob Sheldon said, "We can be at the airport in twenty minutes. I'll call the airport police and give him his features. They'll control all the stops. But I'll tell you— —I'm going to the international airport myself. I want to see the look in the guy's eyes when he greets me right away." Bishop noticed that the burly police officer was smiling for the first time in days.