small bang. Like the sound of a .22 firing. In the company of another man, that might be alarming. But Max calmly steps down a moment later, removes a pair of headphones and begins to disassemble a Ruger rifle and return it to its case. “Hey, Gunn. Great to see you.”
“What were you doing with that thing? Capping pigeons?”
“Nah, I don’t mind pigeons. But I do mind that the City of New York has decided to install a surveillance camera on my corner. That’s not good for business.”
“So you just—” I make a finger rifle and pop him one.
“It’s very efficient,” he says, carrying the gun to a safe on the wall and locking it away.
“You don't think you'll get caught?”
“Nah. The butt of the rifle is too small to see in the air conditioner grate. I checked the view first with a drone.”
Of course he did.
“Great to see you, man. Let’s drink scotch.”
“What's it gonna cost me? When you start spoiling me, I get nervous.”
He frowns. “What do you mean?”
“You invited your brother Eric over for tacos. Then you shipped his ass to Hawaii. Now he has a baby and he’s engaged to be married.”
Max scratches his chin. “We’re not having tacos. You’ve got nothing to fear.” He picks up the decanter and uncaps it. “The job I have planned for you is a piece of cake. In fact, there are literally cakes involved.”
“Hmm,” I say, because that does sound better than crawling through a sewage tunnel. But I’m too smart to feel any relief. “Get to the point.”
“First let me catch you up on a few developments. Xian Smith is in New York.”
“Interesting.” We’ve been trying to prove that Smith is manufacturing compromised processors in Asia for placement into American devices. It's not easy to stay ahead of the cyber security war. Max is one of the few industry leaders who’s realized that hardware is the new frontier of cybercrime. Instead of hacking into networks, Xian Smith is taking a different tack: hack the modem before it’s out of the box.
It could work, too. Americans love their electronics, and they love to buy them cheaply. Most of our gadgets are manufactured overseas. Smith and his cohort—we still need to know who he’s working with—are underbidding honest manufacturers of smart speakers, modems, and servers. Smith sells the cheap components at a loss, and then slightly reengineers them, inserting spy chips to activate later.
Max works day and night to keep our clients’ products clean. But it isn’t easy, because the smorgasbord of “smart” devices keeps expanding. The people crave their phones, their smart thermostats, and their smart speakers.
If Max and I don’t shut down this ring of savvy information pirates, millions of devices will be used to spy on unsuspecting users. Whoever controls the spy chips can reap our secrets and sell them off to the highest bidder. Blackmail. Industrial espionage. Military secrets. If your toaster or your cable modem is spying on you, nothing is safe.
“Smith has been here in town for three weeks already, with no signs of leaving,” Max adds.
“That’s a long stay for him. There’s more business in California. He hasn’t tried to strike a new deal with our friend Alex, right?”
Max shakes his head. “But only because Alex is using our tech to scan each motherboard for design flaws or changes. She put him on notice.”
“Which means we still don’t have the proof we need.” I lift my glass of scotch, and inhale the nutty, caramel scent of it.
“Not yet,” Max admits. “Alex’s products are safe. But Smith has many other clients, any one of whom might be installing his compromised hardware. So I’m picking my way through his client list.”
“And how are you doing that?”
“Tireless surveillance. And guess what? I’ve just picked up a new client. He manufactures motherboards designed for onboard car navigation systems. And some of them are compromised.”
“Damn,” I say slowly. “Car companies outsource their dashboard technology. And people don't watch what they say in the car. If you had access to that ...”
“Exactly. And guess who made these faulty motherboards? Mr. Smith.”
“Fine. Well done. But how does that involve me?” I sip the scotch slowly because I need to stay sharp. Last time I let him get me drunk, I lost five grand at backgammon.
“So—on the one hand—we have Smith in town for an unusual stretch of time. That’s strange enough. But simultaneously there’s some really interesting chatter happening in a dark web hacker forum. Did you read about those