Chapter Six
Over the Atlantic
It had taken some convincing, but Artemis had gotten Eric on the Lear jet. An offer of amnesty will do that to people. Eric was now enjoying (and again the term is used in the loosest possible sense) another of Artemis' food creations. This one called itself a BLT on rye, toasted. It looked like a charcoal briquette. He would have had Butler cook, but he was busy flying the jet.
"So," Artemis opened the conversation, "how did you get inside the NSA?"
Eric swallowed the remains of the sandwich. "Well, it was simple. All I needed was one password to access the superintendent's controls. I would have figured, a high security installation like that, would be two minimum. Instead, I only needed one."
"But still," Artemis pressed. "There are literally millions of permutations. How did you get past it?"
Eric looked around uneasily. This Fowl guy seemed innocent, but the jet might be bugged. "You sure that we're secure in here?" he asked.
"If we aren't, then I'll be going down with you," Artemis reassured him.
"All right," Eric said. "There are three possibilities. These apply for any system. Electronic, bank security, wall safe—doesn't matter. Security is the same everywhere. One, the mark never changes the setting from the factory default. This is most prevalent in actual safes, locks, et cetera. Two, they come up with a random alphanumerical string that they keep somewhere or memorize. This usually only happens in very large corporations and such, simply because it's so hard. Finally, there's people who set the code to some significant combination that relates to them. A birthday, their phone number, address—anything. So, all you need to do is research the mark, or get a good sequencer." Eric grinned. "I didn't need to shell out any money for a sequencer, let me tell you."
Artemis was shocked. "I can hardly believe that it is that simple to hack a bastion of security in the United States."
Eric shrugged. "I just do the breaking and entering. I never do anything harmful, though. Mess with a profile? Yeah. Hack nuclear launch codes? No." He reached into his khakis. "Lollipop?"
"I don't—" Artemis began to say, then was struck by some sort of recollection.
Artemis was propped up on his elbows. "You hit me," he said in disbelief.
Holly strapped on a set of hummingbirds.
"That's right, Fowl. And there's plenty more where that came from. So stay right where you are, if you know what's good for you."
For once in his life, Artemis realized that he didn't have a snappy answer. He opened his mouth, waiting for his brain to supply the customary pithy comeback. But nothing arrived.
Holly slipped the Neutrino 2000 into its holster.
"That's right, Mud Boy. Playtime's over. Time for the professionals to take over. If you're a good boy, I'll buy you a lollipop when I come back."
And when Holly was long gone, soaring beneath the hallway's ancient oak beams, Artemis said, "I don't like lollipops."
"What the—How in the—Butler! Butler!" Artemis ran to the cockpit, desperately trying to remember what had obviously been kept from him. Someone was concealing his own memories from him, and he intended to find out whom.
Eric watched as Artemis sprinted up the aisle in his leather loafers.
"Oh, well," he said to no one in particular. "More for me."
Over the Atlantic
It had taken some convincing, but Artemis had gotten Eric on the Lear jet. An offer of amnesty will do that to people. Eric was now enjoying (and again the term is used in the loosest possible sense) another of Artemis' food creations. This one called itself a BLT on rye, toasted. It looked like a charcoal briquette. He would have had Butler cook, but he was busy flying the jet.
"So," Artemis opened the conversation, "how did you get inside the NSA?"
Eric swallowed the remains of the sandwich. "Well, it was simple. All I needed was one password to access the superintendent's controls. I would have figured, a high security installation like that, would be two minimum. Instead, I only needed one."
"But still," Artemis pressed. "There are literally millions of permutations. How did you get past it?"
Eric looked around uneasily. This Fowl guy seemed innocent, but the jet might be bugged. "You sure that we're secure in here?" he asked.
"If we aren't, then I'll be going down with you," Artemis reassured him.
"All right," Eric said. "There are three possibilities. These apply for any system. Electronic, bank security, wall safe—doesn't matter. Security is the same everywhere. One, the mark never changes the setting from the factory default. This is most prevalent in actual safes, locks, et cetera. Two, they come up with a random alphanumerical string that they keep somewhere or memorize. This usually only happens in very large corporations and such, simply because it's so hard. Finally, there's people who set the code to some significant combination that relates to them. A birthday, their phone number, address—anything. So, all you need to do is research the mark, or get a good sequencer." Eric grinned. "I didn't need to shell out any money for a sequencer, let me tell you."
Artemis was shocked. "I can hardly believe that it is that simple to hack a bastion of security in the United States."
Eric shrugged. "I just do the breaking and entering. I never do anything harmful, though. Mess with a profile? Yeah. Hack nuclear launch codes? No." He reached into his khakis. "Lollipop?"
"I don't—" Artemis began to say, then was struck by some sort of recollection.
Artemis was propped up on his elbows. "You hit me," he said in disbelief.
Holly strapped on a set of hummingbirds.
"That's right, Fowl. And there's plenty more where that came from. So stay right where you are, if you know what's good for you."
For once in his life, Artemis realized that he didn't have a snappy answer. He opened his mouth, waiting for his brain to supply the customary pithy comeback. But nothing arrived.
Holly slipped the Neutrino 2000 into its holster.
"That's right, Mud Boy. Playtime's over. Time for the professionals to take over. If you're a good boy, I'll buy you a lollipop when I come back."
And when Holly was long gone, soaring beneath the hallway's ancient oak beams, Artemis said, "I don't like lollipops."
"What the—How in the—Butler! Butler!" Artemis ran to the cockpit, desperately trying to remember what had obviously been kept from him. Someone was concealing his own memories from him, and he intended to find out whom.
Eric watched as Artemis sprinted up the aisle in his leather loafers.
"Oh, well," he said to no one in particular. "More for me."