Julius Chance
Keys
The interrogator was unpleasantly surprised and stunned by how competent Antony was on that matter.
“It was so long ago that almost not true anymore! Everything that you have mentioned has already been canceled officially” the investigator proclaimed proudly.
“But unofficially?”
“Cryptography came from the Devil! The Scriptures say that everything secret will be revealed.” the interrogator sharply jumped to the religious note.
Antony looked up in surprise at the ‘devout Catholic’:
“On the contrary, The Nature itself favors private secrets. Our Sun will fade out and turn off much sooner than all modern computers together crack the encryption of a two-hundred-bit key. Although it takes only a second to generate such key.”
“Anyway, be the law good or bad – it must be obeyed by all, including your ‘Traceless Hero’” the interrogator lost interest to further crypto-theosophical discussion.
“We are not an American company and therefore do not fall under your jurisdiction. In addition, we have not yet exported our devices to the United States and therefore could not violate any purely American laws in principle.”
“We need the keys in exchange for your freedom,” the interrogator decided going ahead without diplomacy at all, like a bull protruding its horns ahead.
“Alas, buddy, I can’t help you with that at all – the keys are neither with me, nor even in ‘Traceless Hero’.
“But they do actually exist somewhere, don’t they?” the interrogator asked with notes of anger, anxiety, desperation and hope.
“Of course.” Antony confessed, realizing that for the obvious it is always safer to be frank.
“Where are they then?” the interrogator asked in anticipation.
“At our clients.”
“But you do keep the copies for yourself, just in case, don’t you?”
“No.”
“How come?” the interrogator could not believe.
“This is the policy of our company, which distinguishes us from others. Firstly, we play fair game with our customers. They are happy that we do not keep their keys. Secondly – just for the sake of insurance in the situations like mine now. Irrespective of whether I am a coward or a daredevil, irrespective of whether you kill me or spare, you will not obtain keys anyway. Never. Simply because I do not possess them. And thirdly, for the safety of our personnel. Now you have no incentive to kill me as I’ve got no keys. If you do, it will entail a serious international scandal where your country will have to lie, lie and lie to justify the murder. But for the sake of what?”
The interrogator’s face showed deep frustration. He slowly collected his thoughts. Finally, he resorted to intimidation, still unable to believe that there can be firms in the world doing business as honestly as the ‘Traceless Hero’ does:
“I’m not the first year in intelligence, son. You can’t fool me about having no copies of the keys. Very serious charges of aiding terrorism have been brought against you. Your means of communication allow terrorists to transmit non-decrypted messages. This means that either you give us the keys, or you say goodbye to your lovely children, to your young wife, to your beloved friends, to you adorable ‘Traceless Hero’, to your freedom, and perhaps even to your daring head, you understand, don’t you?”
“You should’ve taken a closer look at my CIA dossier prior to interrogation. I haven’t gotten even a half of what you’ve itemized. Do you classify Gazprom as a terrorist organization too by the way?” Antony sneered.
“You have many other clients as well. For example, Venezuelan and Russian oil companies that bypass our sanctions.”
“These companies are not listed as UN terrorist organizations. The sanctions imposed on them are internal scams of the United States and its allies. They are just advisory, but not legally binding at any rate, especially to the companies on the territory of Russian Federation.”
“Your communicators are used by the criminal Assad regime in Syria!” the interrogator barked.
“That regime is also not on UN list.”
“Elections there are rigged! People there are thrown into dungeons and tortured without trial or investigation, in violation of international conventions which Russia has joined too besides!”
“I am not fully aware of what is there, but I clearly see what is here – you grabbed me in a third country and threw me into your dungeons, too, with no lawyer, no investigation and no trial!” Antony retorted.
“We’ve obtained information that you supplied your communications to the Taliban 2 !” the interrogator barked irritably.
“Ha-ha-ha!? Do not fantasize, please.”
The interrogator nodded to the goon, which made a sudden blow to Antony’s chin. Antony overturned to the flow along with the chair, but quickly jumped on back to his feet:
“Hmm, I naively believed that in your democratic country, prisoners are not beaten… as in such countries, like Syria.”
“Guantanamo does not fall under the jurisdiction of the United States, as it is outside their territory,” the interrogator stated in a steel voice.
“Will you torture me by flooding?”
A new blow from the goon, aimed at Antony’s head, hit the block – Antony’s boxing skills has worked. The force of the blow threw him away almost to the front door, but he stayed on his feet. The goon approached him again, but the door to the room suddenly opened and Antony heard a sharp command from behind:
“Stop! Both – leave the room immediately!”
The goon and the interrogator reluctantly obeyed.
The newcomer walked over to the table and sat down in the place of the interrogator. He was in the uniform of a major from the National Security Agency. He was accompanied by a pretty lady, about thirty, in civilian clothes, with firm buttocks under a tight skirt. New comers greeted Antony, but, unlike the previous two, did not reveal their names. With his sixth sense, Anthon sensed an information technology specialist in the lady. To himself he dubbed her Nerda – the female version of the nickname of computer nerds. Nerda lifted a fallen chair and politely invited Antony to sit down again. He did. The major nodded to Nerda and she resumed the interrupted interrogation in a silky voice:
“We apologize for our colleagues. Them are from the CIA, what else can we expect from them?”
“Nothing, apart from medical tests,” Antony translated the Russian joke into English, knowing that the NSA and the CIA dislike each other to say the least.
The silence reigned for a few seconds and then both Major and Nerda burst into loud laughter at once. The atmosphere was discharged. The translation was close enough.
“So, you say that the keys are stored only on the clients’ computers?” Nerda continued still smiling.
“At the clients, but not on the computers, rather in the communicators.”
Upon hearing such news Nerda turned in surprise on the chair and leaned her body closer to Antony, incidentally crushing her bust on the table, which sharply increased the level of testosterone in Antony’s blood.
“Communicator? What it really is? ” she asked.
“It looks like a helmet for astronauts.”
“Helmet?” the major and Nerda both stretched their necks because of surprise.
“Well, yes, helmet. Soundproofed, with external microphone and speakers, internal microphone and speakers, external video camera and display, plus internal visor.”
“What kind of visor?” the major muttered, having noticed that the Russian was staring at his colleague.
