***
Two things interrupted Alistair Vaughan's afternoon at the Bank.
First of all, he had a call on the secure phone from the Cabinet Office.
"Just thought I would keep you up to date with things in Harare," said his colleague Paul Bridges, "but whatever you do, don't ask me what's going on over there!"
"Why?" replied Vaughan. "What's going on over there, then?"
"Nobody knows," replied Bridges, "but I think you were right when you said that there was nothing wrong with the banking system over there, since it seems only the top echelon of society who have lost their cash. Other people still seem able to get at theirs, including through the cash machines. But it won't take much for civil unrest to be stirred up, that's my worry."
"Very odd," said Vaughan. "So I suppose the UK Government remains the prime suspect."
"Looks like it, but tension is mounting over there, and there's talk of a possible coup by the opposition and a run on the banks. The Chairmen of the two leading banks over there have both been arrested, but apparently they've lost all their savings as well, so they may not be held for long."
"Well, I've still not heard anything on my network," said Vaughan. "So far as I can tell, the banking system remains stable and working normally. There's been no reaction that I have noticed on the foreign exchange markets, either."
"Let me know if you do spot anything, will you, and if anything like an explanation occurs to you, I'd be glad to know about it."
The Head of Security was just thinking he's had enough for one day, and was about to clear his papers into the safe, when one of his colleagues knocked and stuck his head round the door.
"What is it, Stan?" asked Vaughan.
"Are you just off?" asked the man.
"Thinking about it, that's all. What's the problem?"
"I won't keep you a minute, but I just thought I should tell you about something our enquires might have thrown up."
"Found someone dipping into the funds, have you?" asked Vaughan, half joking.
"Not quite," replied Stan Griffin, one of Vaughan's senior managers, "but at your suggestion we have been looking at people who have access to sufficient secure information to at least attempt to hack into the system, just in case we found the cause of the problems GXR have noticed recently."
"And?"
"One of the chaps on the International Clearing computer section has been heard in the gents boasting to a chum that he doesn't really need to work, since he has plenty put by for a rainy day - or words to that effect."
"So?"
"Well, he shouldn't have, that's all," replied Stan "He's not long out of University, has a widowed mother - just widowed, I think - living in an old Victorian terraced house in Highgate. Brilliant with computers, but on a pretty basic salary, and although he's been working extra night shifts lately, he's hardly been earning enough to have 'plenty put by for a rainy day.'"
"A legacy, perhaps," suggested Vaughan. "If his father's recently died, perhaps he's inherited something."
"I don't think so, somehow. According to his line manager, he doesn't live anything like an extravagant lifestyle. But he does have access to all the right codes and is certainly good enough to have been trying to get into other banks' systems."
"Have you spoken to him?" asked Vaughan.
"Not yet, but if you agree, I will come in early tomorrow to have a word. He's not in yet, but I can catch him tomorrow after his night duty."
"Do that," instructed Vaughan. "It would be nice to be able to explain GXR's problems for them."
"Probably nothing in it," shrugged his colleague, "but I'll let you know."
As the man turned to leave, Vaughan asked, "What's this guy's name as a matter of interest?"
"Farlow," replied Stan. "Jim Farlow."
At the time, it meant nothing to Alistair Vaughan.?
16. PAYBACK TIME?
Stan Griffin left home early the next morning, and arrived at the Bank late.
For a change, the train from Surbiton got to Waterloo on time, but Stan could tell something was wrong as soon as he headed for the Underground. Couldn't get near the escalator for people. It was the infamous Waterloo and City Line - happily known as 'the drain' - suffering from the after-effects of one of its periodic points failures. Trains were running again, it seemed, and the crowd was slowly shuffling its way forward as the backlog was cleared, but Stan knew it could be ages before he actually got on a train.
He looked at his watch. Was it worth heading for the surface and waiting for a No.76 bus, he wondered?
Probably not. Whatever he did, he was pretty sure he was going to be late anyway, so he decided to stay where he was.
By the time he got to Threadneedle Street, Jim Farlow had left for home. Damn!
Griffin had a quick word with Farlow's manager, and, having confirmed that Jim was on a late shift again that evening, decided to stay late and have a word with the man before he logged on for his shift.
When he got home later that morning, Jim rang Robin to pass on the codes for one of the remaining accounts that he had managed to get into the previous night. Robin insisted that he should stop immediately; Jim insisted that he would try another account this evening, if he got the chance.
As it happened, he didn't.
Jim Farlow was summoned to Griffin's office the minute he arrived, before he even had time to hang his jacket on the back of his chair, never mind log on to his computer.
"Shan't keep you a minute," announced Griffin, "but I just wanted a quick word before you start your shift. We're doing a bit of informal checking on people who could access other bank's encryption codes and so on."
"I had heard," said Jim.
"There's been a spate of incidents recently which could indicate that someone, somewhere, is trying to hack into the system, so we've been asked to check," said Griffin. "And since you're one of those in a position to have a go if you were so minded, I have to speak to you as well as all your computer colleagues."
"That's OK," said Jim.
"You haven't been fooling around, have you, during your night shifts?" asked Griffin. "Just to pass the time, or something?"
"I've got my personal hi-fi if it ever gets quiet," replied Jim, holding up his wallet of CDs, and not quite answering the question.
"Ah, yes," said Griffin. "So you haven't been attempting any hacking, then?"
"No," replied Farlow. Not attempting - succeeding! he thought to himself.
"That's good then," replied Griffin. "What sort of music do you like?" he asked, holding out his hand.
Jim handed over the wallet of CDs, which Stan Griffin thumbed through, casually.
"My daughter's into this sort of thing," he said. "One or two here I recognise, but not many." He passed over 'Pay-back time' with barely a glance, and handed the wallet back to Jim.
"You'd better log on, or you'll be late," he said. "Sorry to have wasted your time."
"By the way," said Griffin, as Jim reached the door. "Without wishing to pry unduly, you don't come from a wealthy family, do you?" It was more a statement than a question.
"No, I don't", replied Jim, wondering why he had been asked.
"I was sorry to hear about your father, by the way," said Griffin. "What did he do for a living, as a matter of interest?"
"He was a bus driver, as a matter of fact," replied Jim. "And my mother's a dinner lady at the local school."
"Highgate, isn't it?" asked Griffin.
"That's where I live," replied Farlow. "My Mum and Dad had a struggle to put me through university."
"I can understand that," replied Griffin.
"What's all this got to do with anything?" asked Farlow.
"Oh, just that someone overheard you telling one of your colleagues in the loo the other day that you didn't really have to work, as you had plenty in the bank already. So I just wondered, that's all."
Jim blushed, and muttered something about "Just a bit of bragging."
; "I see," said Griffin, and sat down behind his desk, waving Jim away dismissively.
As Farlow shut the door behind him, Stan Griffin reached for his phone and put a call in to Alistair Vaughan.
"Glad you haven't gone yet," said Griffin, "but I've just had a word with Farlow, and I'm not at all sure that he's as squeaky-clean as he should be."
"Why?"
"Just a hunch, really, but he didn't quite ring true, somehow, and seemed a bit cagey. Shifty, almost."
"What do you suggest?" asked Vaughan.
"I think we should have a look at his recent bank transactions, and go through his account," suggested Griffin. "I might also arrange to monitor his workstation, just to make sure he's not trying to do anything he shouldn't be doing."
"Do it then," instructed Vaughan, who sat thoughtfully for a few moments.
Eventually, he put a call through to Farlow's line manager.
"Don't ask me why I want it," said Vaughan, "but could you possibly let me have a copy of Farlow's duty roster for the past, say, six months? I'm particularly interested to know when he's been on nights."
"No problem," replied the manager. "I'll burn one off right away and get my girl to bring it up to you."
Vaughan pulled out the list of service interruptions sent to him by Global Crossroads, and compared the two documents.
"Now that's very interesting indeed," he muttered to himself.
By no means all the incidents logged by GXR coincided with Farlow being on a night duty, but every time Jim had been on a late shift there had also been what GXR called 'a blip'. Every time, without exception.
But what about the remaining incidents that suggested someone was trying to hack into the system? Even if Farlow had been amusing himself during the silent hours trying to break down the security system, what about the other blips recorded by GXR? Was he working with someone, perhaps?
Vaughan suddenly remembered that some of the other recorded interruptions had coincided with the mysterious transactions into that woman's account at the Dutch bank - what was her name? Ah, yes - Gladys Hood, - that was it. Ms. Gladys Hood, who has the nephew with an Oxford double first in mathematics, and who has set up his own computer business.
And wasn't Farlow also a recent graduate from Oxford?
This was getting interesting.
Vaughan wondered if Farlow and Hood had been at Oxford together. He would find out. That would be too much of a coincidence, but it wouldn't prove anything. In fact, Vaughan wasn't at all sure what there was to prove. No obvious fraud had come to light yet, and there was no evidence, apart from circumstantial, that anyone had been tampering with the banking industry's security systems. The Global Crossroads records simply showed the briefest possible interruptions to their service that could have been caused by someone attempting to hack into the system. But they could equally have been caused by something else.
What had Denning told him? They were minor blips on their transmission system, which they were unable to identify or trace. They had appeared, but only 'appeared' to the experts at GXR, to indicate attempts at unauthorised access to the banking system, but it was impossible to say where the attempts had been made, if that's what they were, or if they had been successful.
So Vaughan had no crime, and therefore no motive, and nothing to prove. But he was suddenly very keen to know about Farlow's bank account.