The E-Mail Mystery Page 4

  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.

  The walls were decorated with modern paintings, and

  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