eat.”
The two girls ran their eyes down the elaborate
menu. Nancy decided on a cool summer salad with
grilled chicken, and Bess chose baked stuffed trout
with almonds.
The waitress arrived, and the girls placed their
orders. “Why do they call this place the Sacred Cow?”
Nancy asked the waitress. “There's no beef anywhere
on the menu.”
“That's the idea,” replied their waitress. “In India,
cows are viewed as holy. Even the fast-food joints there
serve lamb burgers. Not only do Indians not eat beef,
but cows are allowed to roam free in the streets, and no
one can bother them. I've been told it causes a lot of
traffic problems.”
“Let's hope you don't let them roam free in this
restaurant,” Bess said to the waitress with a smile. “Do
you serve Indian food here, too?”
“A few dishes,” the waitress said, opening a menu in
front of them. “See? There's a lamb curry, there's dal,
which is a kind of lentil dish, and there's biryani, a
fragrant rice dish made with saffron and raisins.”
“Oh, that sounds wonderful,” Bess said. “Can I get
that with my fish?”
“Sure,” the waitress said. “I'll bring you a side
order.”
During the meal, Nancy filled Bess in on her
suspicions and described the conversations she had
overheard at the Williams & Brown office when she
dropped off her father's documents.
“So let me get this straight,” Bess said. “You think
someone at Williams and Brown is getting information
from your father's office about his clients—information
to use to settle cases early. That would save their
clients money, because the insurance companies who
have to pay out court expenses and financial judgments
only have to pay out a small settlement award. Did I
get that right?” she finished with a loud sigh.
“Exactly,” Nancy said. “Plus, it makes Williams and
Brown look good. I heard one of the partners
congratulating his son for settling some insurance case
early. He said it would help the firm and the son's
career.”
“So he's got a motive,” Bess said excitedly.
“But he would need an accomplice inside my
father's office to get him the information,” Nancy said.
“Unless he could access our computer system from
outside?”
“First things first,” Bess said. “Tell me about the
suspects in your father's office.”
“There's Byron Thomas, the summer law intern,”
Nancy said. “He's a law student with lots of debts—and
lots of secrets, too. He always seems to be hiding bits of
paper or computer disks whenever someone comes
near him.”
The arrival of the waitress with their plates of food
interrupted the girls' conversation for a moment, but as
soon as they were left alone, Bess asked Nancy to
continue.
“There's Henry Yi. He's a real egomaniac and a
busybody, knows everything about everyone. He calls
Byron the poet,' and says Byron's artistic side is why
he's so high-strung. And then there's Blaine Warner,
who's my dad's new law associate. My dad has told me
that she's a really tough, aggressive lawyer. But for
some reason she was hostile toward me all day.”
“So, do you think someone at Williams and Brown is
paying one of them to E-mail confidential information
from your dad's office? What sort of information could
they use that way?”
“I'm not sure,” Nancy admitted. “It may have to do
with each of their prior criminal cases, all of which my
dad handled. I'll do some research on that tomorrow. I
hate to suspect anyone in my father's office without
proof. So, is it possible for someone at Williams and
Brown to access files in our computer system from
outside, without help from someone in my dad's office?
Could someone phone our computer and tell it to E-
mail something to them so that no one would know
about it?”
“I suppose it is,” Bess said slowly. “You can send
something to a remote computer, if you've got the
password to let you on the computer you're trying to
access. But how would someone know which files to
get? It seems to me that the person would have to have
a contact inside your dad's office.”
Bess paused thoughtfully. “What kind of computer
security system do you have?”
“Well,” Nancy said slowly, “there's an antivirus
program that comes up automatically when you
transfer files.”
“No, no, not virus protection—secret passwords,
automatic shutoffs, file coding—that sort of thing,”
Bess explained.
“There's nothing like that,” Nancy said. “We all have
passwords to get into the system, but they're no secret.
Ms. Hanson gave me one when I came into work today,
but when I forgot it, Henry told me what it was, so
there's nothing secret about them.”
“That's very unprofessional,” said Bess. “I'm really
surprised. Who's the sysop in your dad's office?”
“What's that?” Nancy asked.
“It's short for system operator,” Bess explained with
a smile. “That's the person in charge of computer
operations at a company or organization.”
“It's probably Henry,” Nancy said. “My father said
he's got a background in computers.”
“Then it's not surprising that he knows everyone's
passwords. Maybe he's the link,” Bess said.
Nancy took a last bite of her salad, and Bess picked
the final raisin off her plate. The waitress returned to
clear their places and bring them dessert menus.
“Oh, nothing for me,” Bess said. “I'm stuffed. Maybe
just a cup of tea. No, let's go next door and get some
cappuccino at Art-Dot-Café, okay, Nancy?”
“That sounds great,” Nancy said.
“Just the bill then, thanks,” Bess said to the waitress.
Then, once the table was clean, she said to Nancy, “Let
me see the E-mail transmission log you printed out.”
Nancy carefully removed it from her portfolio. “Ah,
you see?” Bess pointed to a line on the printout. “This
shows who sent the E-mail: MHans.”
“Marian Hanson!” Nancy exclaimed. “That can't be!
She's worked for my father for years. You know her,
Bess. She said to say hi to you when she heard we were
having dinner together.”
“People change,” Bess said.
“I don't believe it,” Nancy said. “Besides, it's just not
possible. Look at the transmission times. These files
were sent after ten o'clock at night, some after
midnight. Ms. Hanson doesn't stay in the office that
late. Couldn't someone else log on as her, so it would
look as if anything transmitted came from her?”
“If the computer security is as lax as you say it is—
sure,” B
ess said. “Anybody could log on as MHans,
with her password.”
“Henry certainly knew mine, and it's only tem-
porary, so I can work on the system for the next couple
of days. I'm sure he knows hers as well,” Nancy said.
“And he always seems to be hanging around, asking me
questions about what I'm doing when I'm trying to
work.”
“That could be for a lot of reasons, Nancy,” Bess said
with a twinkle in her eye. “Maybe he likes you.”
“Oh, come on, Bess, this is serious,” Nancy said.
“Look, Nancy, even if he's not interested in you
personally, he might be trying to impress your dad,”
Bess insisted.
“What about tracking whether the instruction to
send the E-mail came from inside the office or outside
it? Can you do something like that?”
“I'll be honest, Nancy,” Bess said. “I've learned a lot
about getting around the Internet, but I'm not sure I
have enough expertise to track a computer criminal
through cyberspace.”
“Well, do you know somebody who could do it?”
Nancy persisted.
“I could probably find someone,” Bess said. “But
this printout won't tell anyone what we need to know,
not even a computer expert. It just shows the
information from your in-house E-mail system. We'll
need to see where the mail was routed, what the
servers were, and discover the real addresses—and the
actual account holders.”
“I can't believe how much you've learned recently.
You're way over my head,” Nancy warned.
“I'm not sure how to access that stuff, anyway,” Bess
continued. “But I'll tell you what. Let me come into
the office with you, and I'll try to dig up the file
information a computer expert would need to track this
E-mail. Then I'll log on to my computer-users' chat
group. We'll be sure to find some ambitious computer
hacker who'll know what we need to do.”
“That sounds like a great idea,” Nancy said. “Why
don't you meet me in the office tomorrow night after
work, and you can show me all around the Internet.”
“Let's go to Art-Dot-Café right now,” Bess said,
“and I'll give you a quick introductory tour.”
While the girls were gathering up their things to exit
the restaurant, Nancy whispered sharply to Bess, “Look
over there. See that woman, sitting behind that ficus
tree next to our table? That's Blaine Warner.”
“Blaine Warner?” Bess whispered back to Nancy.
“The legal eagle from your dad's office? Do you think
she's following you?”
“I didn't notice anyone following me on my way
here,” Nancy said. “It might just be a dinner date. Can
you see who she's with?”
“Some cute guy,” Bess said, smiling. “Curly brown
hair, nice looking. I guess being a lawyer isn't all bad.”
“I can't believe they might have overheard our
whole conversation,” Nancy said. She pulled Bess
toward the restaurant exit. “Let's just slip out, in case
she didn't notice me,” Nancy said. “I'd rather not make
introductions right now.”
The two girls quietly moved toward the door of the
restaurant and exited into the cool evening. They
turned left to walk into the computer coffeehouse
called Art.Café. There, standing right in front of them,
as if he had been waiting for them, was Byron Thomas!
6. Well-Kept Secrets
“Byron!” Nancy exclaimed. “What are you doing here?”
“Oh, nothing,” Byron mumbled. “I, um, was just
meeting a friend for coffee.”
“Oh, at the Art-Dot-Café?” Bess asked, smiling
warmly at the intense young man. “That's just where
we're going.”
“Byron, this is my friend Bess Marvin,” Nancy said.
“Bess, this is Byron Thomas, the law intern at my dad's
office. Sorry to jump like that, Byron, but you did
startle me.”
“Nice to meet you, Bess,” Byron said, shaking her
hand. “I didn't mean to scare you. I, um, just didn't
expect to see you down here.”
“Me, either,” Nancy said. “So, what's this Art-Dot-
Café like, anyway? Bess here has only heard about it on
the Internet, and we were going to try it out.”
“I'm going to—um—another place, up the street,”
Byron said quickly. “A few blocks away. Not here. I'll
see you tomorrow, Nancy.” He hurried up the block.
Nancy and Bess looked after him. “What was that all
about?” Bess asked. “River Heights isn't such a small
town that you run into two people from your dad's
office in one night. Are they working together, maybe?
Do you think they're tailing you?”
Nancy laughed. “I can't imagine Byron Thomas and
Blaine Warner working together on anything they don't
have to. And Blaine was pretty tough on Byron today.
Besides, Blaine's still inside the restaurant, and Byron's
walking up the block. Who's following me now?”
“Maybe Henry Yi is behind that tree,” Bess said with
a grin. “Anyway, enough mystery for tonight. Let's go
get a cappuccino at Art-Dot-Café.”
The two girls entered the small coffee bar. They
admired the gleaming espresso machine on the bar,
and the gleaming computer monitors stationed at each
of the small wrought-iron tables. The computer wires
disappeared into holes in the floor, under the tables.
soft classical music was being played.
Small groups of two and three people gathered
around each screen, laughing and talking over their
steaming coffee drinks as they tapped away on their
keyboards.
“This is cool,” Nancy said.
“It's just like they said it would be on-line. It's
absolutely fabulous,” Bess said. “I can't wait to tell my
friends in the chat group that I actually came here.”
Bess and Nancy approached the coffee bar, and
ordered mocha cappuccinos with extra cinnamon.
When they received their frothy drinks, Bess stirred in
two teaspoons of raw light brown sugar, while Nancy
dusted the top of hers with cocoa powder.
“Delicious,” Nancy said, taking a sip of the chocolaty
concoction. “Now, let's find a table and you can show
me a thing or two.”
“Great,” Bess said. They stood for a few minutes
drinking their cappuccinos as they waited for a table to
open up. Finally a young couple rose from their station
and walked toward the exit. Bess and Nancy moved
into the space they had vacated.
“Look,” Bess said. “The computer's already logged
on to one of the Internet services. Let's browse around
and look for some interesting chat groups.”
Nancy watched as her friend expertly scrolled
through the different screens.
“Yikes,” Nancy said, as she read the names of some
of the chat rooms
. “Some of these groups sound scary.”
“Yeah,” Bess agreed. “Actually, you have to be really
careful on-line. You shouldn't give out your home
address or phone number, or let anyone know that
you'll be out of town on a certain date. Let's log on to
my computer users' group.”
The monitor in front of them read, “Welcome to the
Computer Users' Forum. Warning: Do not give anyone
your password or billing information.” Below this it
scrolled dozens of names with computer-related
questions and answers following behind.
“How does this work?” Nancy asked.
“Each person is identified by a screen name, at the
left,” Bess explained. “Then you type something in
here, press the Enter key, and it appears for everyone
to read.”
“What's that?” Nancy asked, pointing to a strange
symbol on the screen: :-)
“Ha!” Bess laughed. “Turn your head to the side and
you can see what it is. It's someone smiling. Get it?”
“That's great,” Nancy said, laughing.
Nancy watched, fascinated, as the on-line con-
versation continued in front of her eyes. She read
simple questions from novice computer users that even
she could answer, and she read complicated questions
from computer experts who used words Nancy didn't
understand at all.
“Wow,” Nancy said. “It seems like all kinds of people
use this bulletin board.”
“Yeah,” Bess agreed. “It's the best forum to learn
stuff about computers, from the most basic to the most
advanced. That's why I thought we'd find someone
here who could answer our questions about tracking
your E-mail criminal on-line.”
“I see something repeated over and over,” Nancy
observed. “What does that mean?” She pointed to a
line on the screen: Refer to FAQs@uvm.edu
“FAQs is short for frequently asked questions,' ”
Bess explained. “Most new computer users ask the
same things over and over, so it's easier to refer them
to an answer sheet than reply personally to each one.
The rest of the line tells people where to find the list.”
“Are only people in River Heights on-line here, or
from around the country?” Nancy asked.
“Around the world,” Bess answered. “But there are
local bulletin boards, too, where we can chat with
people only in the neighborhood.”
“I think that would make more sense for us,” Nancy