"What's Open Weave?" Hyde dropped into the charged silence; almost expecting the breath expelled with his words to spark in the heavy atmosphere.
Godwin's grey face narrowed. "Don't pretend you don't know."
Hyde shook his head. "I don't."
"Don't give me that! Shelley's briefed you!" Hyde rejected interruption. "Do you even begin to understand, either of you, what Petrunin did when he fixed the computer in Moscow Centre? Do you have even an inkling of what he had to do to make Teardrop available to you?" Godwin's body slumped on the crutches, almost as if he had fallen backwards into a comfortable chair. The cat appeared, indifferent, licking its mouth in the kitchen doorway. The percolator reached a breathless climax behind the cat.
Godwin dropped his body into the chair opposite Hyde. Breath emerged, strangled and painful. Godwin plunged on, undeterred by the massive interruption of seating himself.
"First," he offered, marking the point on the index finger of his right hand, "he had to subvert an expert of near-genius — a programmer who was exceptionally smart. Before that, he had to see the possibility! He had to be really far-sighted when he served on that committee… to see the chance and take it. Clever…" Godwin was wistful for opportunity for a moment, then continued: "Petrunin had to alter the original database, when the central records computer was first fully programmed — back when they started computerising their entire records system. Even then he was watching his back — and aware of the best, most up-to-date way of doing it…"
Godwin's face was flushed with insight, more than with the thin wine they had drunk with their pork. His eyes were inward-looking, staring after a figure following a road he could not take. Hyde realised how thwarted Godwin was by his crippled legs. Perhaps Aubrey had done him no good turn, keeping him inside the service—? A big computer firm might have satisfied his ambitions much more completely.
Godwin cleared his throat, and said, "Teleprocessing showed him the ease with which he could store information under Moscow Centre's inquisitive long nose and be perfectly safe. And the method of computer access — through landlines — suggested how easy it would be to recover the information he'd stored, from any terminal in any Soviet embassy or consulate or mission, in any emergency. He'd need no more than a few minutes with a remote terminal keyboard and his special passwords. He could go straight to the stuff he'd stored, just like that—" Godwin clicked his fingers. His eyes studied the ceiling. The cat hunched its back towards the one radiator. Hyde got up and passed Godwin's chair towards the kitchen. Godwin seemed almost relieved. Immediately, in a raised voice, he began talking over the noises of coffee cups and pouring liquid.
"He must have altered the schema of the database — just in case someone stumbled onto his material by the purest fluke… when you dial up his doctored file, you get almost the same thing, except that the normal channels to the personnel records have been bypassed and you're really getting the prologue to all the dirt he's stored away."
"Sugar?" Hyde asked.
"No. But, when they sent him to Afghanistan as persona non grata, he must have added a low-level patch to the compiler…" Hyde handed him his cup. "Thanks." Godwin appeared relaxed. He had adopted the momentum and the confidence of his monologue. Here, he was the expert, the fit man.
Hyde regained his seat. "He must have killed the poor bastard who assisted him straight afterwards — or could he have added this — this patch?" Godwin nodded. "After he'd killed the programmer?"
"He might have been able to. He'd have had to study manuals and dumps of the application programmes to find a way of bypassing the computer's security… what I think he's done, from your description, is to add a patch to the compiler which translates the password routine in the database management system. This would have the effect of adding an extra line to the normal password routine in the machine code version. I'll show you later. It would have been easier for him, since he wouldn't have had much time after they decided to send him to Kabul, if the programmer was still alive."
"Perhaps he anticipated disgrace, along with everything else?"
"He was that clever?"
"He was."
Godwin shifted painfully in his chair.
Hyde stood up and went into the kitchen and placed his cup in the crowded sink. Then said, "You have to teach me, Godwin. Everything I need to know."
Godwin called, "How much do you know about Open Weave?"
"Nothing."
"Shelley told you nothing?"
"No."
Godwin's anger was quashed. Hyde raised his face to the kitchen ceiling and held back the sigh of relief that threatened to escape from his chest. Godwin was hooked. When he walked into the lounge, Godwin's face greeted him eagerly, almost wanton with excitement.
"Tell me about it," Hyde said.
"Later. It's just a way of tapping into the landline that links the computer room here to Moscow Centre."
"What—?" Hyde began, hardly needing to act surprise.
"Later," Godwin repeated with affected modesty. "It'll help get you into the computer room in the Hradcany as a system tester. We'll set up a fault on the landline… later. I'll keep you in suspense for a bit." He grinned. Godwin's face was animated with something akin to triumph; the face of an eminent actor, assured of the applause that would greet his entry from the wings.
Hyde smiled. "OK. Keep me in suspense, then."
"You sure you wouldn't like a little lie-down before we begin?" Godwin asked jokingly. "This is going to take the rest of the night. Are you sure you're ready?"
"When you are. My cover's as a system tester. Who or what gets me inside the Hradcany?"
Godwin waved the question aside. "That's taken care of. You'll be helped in — and concealed."
"OK. I'm inside."
"They'll be expecting you. That's the beauty of it. They'll want a system tester. Not a technician, you understand, just someone with a high security clearance. From the Soviet Embassy. Your clearance will be higher than that of most of the people you'll run into. They'll be wary of you."
"Why do they want this — system tester?"
"The fault on the landline. It'll be such that they'll have to check that their data-files taken from remote terminals aren't at fault — been corrupted or damaged. They'll be worried — they'll need you to check responses from Moscow to requests you make in sensitive areas… OK?"
"OK."
"So — you're in the main computer room. With guaranteed use of one of the remote terminals — keyboard, printer, back-up peripherals… everything."
"You're pretty sure of this—"
"I am sure, mate — bloody sure! You're using the best stuff I've got — people, ideas, cover. I'm giving you everything."
"OK."
"The computer terminals in the Hradcany are standard stuff — they use a pirated version of IBM's CICS system — Customer Information Control Systems, that means. The terminal is permanently linked to Moscow Centre and the computer is continually asking for its services to be used. It's called polling. All you'll need — apart from enough time to yourself — is Petrunin's passwords when the computer asks you for them."
"Why do I need to be a system tester?"
"Because that way—" The cat had moved, and was rubbing against Godwin's legs. As if his excitement had animated his senseless shins, Godwin looked down, smiled, and lifted the cat onto his lap. It padded as if shaping his lap like a pillow, and then settled itself. Godwin's large hand stroked methodically, firmly along the cat's back. " — that way you can get into the personnel records. Education, military, criminal, anything you like, while checking that the landline, the modems and scramblers have not affected the data or the data transfer. If that's happened, they'd need to use back-up to restore the files. You can be there for — perhaps three or four hours, all night if the job takes that long… and no one, no one at all, will be asking you to leave or asking you what you think you're up to! Can't you see what a gift it is?"