“So you’re telling me that if I, for example, had something sensitive, let’s say illegal, and pressed delete, or put it in the recycling bin, it’s always going be on the hard drive?”
Tom nodded. “Exactly. Which is why the police have been able to arrest so many pedophiles. The evidence of their illegal activities has been retained on their hard drives, even when they thought they had deleted it.”
“Is there anything you can do to remove something completely from your computer?”
“There’s something called Evidence Eliminator. It’s the equivalent to a government-level wipe that people say can deep-clean your computer of sensitive material. I have never used the program myself, though, so I don’t really know how efficient it is.”
“Interesting,” de Jersey said. “What about e-mail?”
“Well, an e-mail travels through several servers on its way to its destination. This means it can be intercepted and read. You never know who might be reading your e-mail. At the moment, police are monitoring the Net for terrorist communications. Numerous people have been arrested here that way.”
De Jersey’s mind was racing with ways to use the new technology to his advantage. “I read an article about hacking recently. How does that work?”
“What do you want to know?”
“Well, if someone wanted to hack into a company’s files, how would they do it?”
Tom shrugged his shoulders. “I have a basic understanding of what’s involved, but I’ve never done it myself so I couldn’t tell you. Some of the things hackers have done are pretty funny, though.”
“Like what?” de Jersey asked, not very interested.
“A few years back, two hackers rigged a radio station’s phone system during a phone-in show to let only their calls through.” He laughed. “They won two cars, trips all round the world, and twenty thousand pounds!” Tom noticed that his pupil’s attention was wandering.
“You know what, Mr. de Jersey; the best place to get hold of this information is the Net itself. You should start using the chat rooms, get on-line with some guys who know what they’re talking about.” Tom checked his watch.
“Could you show me again how to get into the chat rooms? Then we’ll call it quits for the day,” de Jersey said. “Why don’t we use your computer?”
Tom began tapping away. De Jersey didn’t want to take any risk, however small, that someone might trace anything back to his computer. He thought it prudent from then on to use Tom’s laptop exclusively.
“Okeydokey,” Tom said. “Anything in particular you’d like to chat about or discuss?”
De Jersey gave it a second’s thought. “Yeah, how about something like those kids that hacked into the radio show?”
Tom tapped away for a few seconds. “If we get someone on-line who doesn’t have the information we want, he can direct us to a more specialized chat room. Here we go.”
Tom typed away in search of information about hacking, then asked what de Jersey wanted to call himself.
“Erm, how about Bill Haley?” he said. Tom did not react-he was probably too young to remember the old rock-and-roller. He simply typed in the name. Then they watched the screen. Within moments they had received a message. “Good God, that was quick,” de Jersey said, fascinated.
“Well, some of these guys spend all day on there.”
A short message on the screen told them that its author didn’t know anything about hacking but that he had lost the password to his Toshiba and did anyone know the break-in starter password for this computer?
Tom tapped the screen with his pencil. “Get out of this one. I’d say this guy has a stolen computer, that’s why he doesn’t have the password.”
“My God, I’ve got a lot to learn,” de Jersey said, intrigued.
Just then they heard Natasha return from riding. De Jersey glanced at Tom, who looked flustered.
“Excuse me,” he said, “may I use your toilet?”
De Jersey nodded. “Say hello to Natasha before you come back,” he teased. Every morning when his daughter came in, the boy needed to use the bathroom.
Tom slipped out of the room, so he missed the next message that flashed across the screen.
It was from someone calling himself Elvis who suggested that Bill Haley attend a public course on the Internet and thoughtfully listed numerous lectures taking place in colleges across London.
De Jersey asked which Elvis thought would be best.
“I hear St. Catherine’s Church Hall, Lisson Grove, Notting Hill, Tuesday, eight fifteen P.M. is pretty good” came the response.
“Thank you,” de Jersey replied.
Tom returned just as his watch alarm rang to herald the end of the session. He watched as de Jersey closed down his laptop for him, then delved into his rucksack. “I got you this. It’s a novel by a guy called Douglas Coupland. It’s a terrific read.”
“Microserfs. Thank you.”
De Jersey walked Tom to the door and, as an afterthought, said for the next few weeks he would be abroad on business. Tom looked disappointed but perked up when de Jersey handed him an envelope containing two hundred fifty pounds. “That’s for all your help. I’ll get in touch when I need you again.”
De Jersey had enough knowledge now to come to grips with identity protection. If he was going to plan a robbery utilizing the Internet, he had to know how to avoid being traced. He would prefer not to involve anyone else, so he’d start by attending the lecture Elvis had recommended.
He spent the rest of the day in chat rooms. He used various names-on the Internet he could be whoever he wanted without the need for a disguise. Physical attributes, age, and gender were irrelevant; the only truth was what he chose to write on the electronic page.
De Jersey was amazed how easily he could contact other criminals on the Web. Many even had their own Web sites, paying homage to their crimes. He looked up the Metropolitan Police’s list of Most Wanted criminals and allowed himself a satisfied smile; none of his many pseudonyms were mentioned.
He had not yet formed a plan but was storing away information. As he became more proficient, he ordered a higher-powered computer and arranged for it to be delivered and installed. As he completed the order form on-line, he noted with interest how many personal details he was asked to provide. Edward de Jersey was now a known entity in cyberspace.
Christina became increasingly frustrated. Her husband worked all day at the stables and then shut himself in his study every evening after dinner.
At breakfast she asked him what had happened when he was in London just after Christmas.
“Why do you ask?” He was reading the Internet novel Tom had left with him while he ate.
“Since you came back, you’re always in front of a computer. You’ve stopped talking to me, you pay no attention to the girls.”
He shut the book and sighed. “I’m sorry.”
“I won’t have my parents stay if you’re going to continue.”
“What?”
“Don’t you remember? They’re coming for a week’s holiday. They only come once a year, and they want to see the girls before they go back to school.”
De Jersey was upset by her anger. “I’m sorry. Why don’t we go for a walk?”
“No, I’m going to do some baking.”
“I guess I just got caught up in my new toys, and I’ve been working a lot too.” He slipped his arms around her. “Let me make it up to you.”
But she moved away. “They’ll want to do all the touristy things. I know you hate anything like that, but it means a lot to them to be here.”