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TEXT_138.txt
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1997-05-27
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14KB
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254 lines
Back in Phil's world, they can't quite cope with
the idea of this ferocious brag-driven barter
economy cloaked in courtesy. The SPA and the
BSA just don't believe it. "Considering the
amount of time they dedicate, they must be
making a return to justify it," says Phil.
Casual observers of the BSA's Web site may well
be convinced, if only because they're stunned by
the money that's involved - or seems to be.
Fifteen point five billion dollars a year! But
those figures are based on the assumption that
if piracy were stopped, someone would be
willing to pay for every pirated copy in
circulation.
"Billions of dollars?" scoffs East London BBS
operator Time Bandit. "I know guys who have
thousands and thousands of pounds worth of
software, but the values are meaningless. Win95
may cost, like, £75 in the shops, but in warez,
it's worthless. It's just another file that you
might swap for another program, which might
cost four grand. How much it costs in real money
is meaningless."
How do you ram home sales figures and quarterly
losses to a bunch of teenagers who see warez
trading as their passport to acceptance on the
scurrilous side of a brave new world? How do
you convince middle-aged men who see
incandescently expensive software as monopoly
money in a vast, global boardgame that what
they're doing is "harmful"? In the software
industry's latest campaign, you scare them - or
try. The BSA's mandate used to be "not to
capture pirates, but to eradicate piracy." Now
exemplary punishment is the big thing.
To do that, the BSA and the SPA are willing to
push the law to its limits. Prosecuting clear
offenders - warez-vending BBS operators and
FTP-site pirates, for instance - is one thing;
suing ISPs for carrying Web pages containing
pirate links and cracks is another. A typical case
was against C2Net, a Buffalo, New York-based
ISP that the SPA sued for doing just that. In
what smacked of a token prosecution - or, in the
words of C2Net's president, Sameer Parekh,
"legal terrorism" - the action by Adobe, Claris,
and Traveling Software, under the aegis of the
SPA, held the provider responsible as
"publishers" for the contents of its server, and
for the activities of individual account holders.
The SPA eventually backed off but threatens to
revive the suit if C2Net and other ISPs don't
agree to monitor their users for copyright
infringement. C2Net says it will not give in to
litigious "bullying."
And then there are straightforward busts. On
January 12, 1996, Microsoft and Novell jointly
announced a settlement with Scott W. Morris,
who was "doing business as the Assassin's Guild
BBS ... billed ... as the worldwide headquarters
for two large pirate groups, Pirates With
Attitude (PWA) and Razor 1911." According to
the statement, "marshals seized 13 computers,
11 modems, a satellite dish, 9 gigabytes of
online data, and over 40 gigabytes of offline
data storage dating back to 1992.... Mr. Morris
agrees to assist Microsoft and Novell in their
continuing BBS investigations."
Phil, our undercover Internet detective, wasn't
responsible for that particular drama, but he's
been integral to others. His latest victory was in
Zürich - "a landmark case against individuals
and organizations distributing unlicensed
software on the Internet," he calls it. A
27-year-old computer technician who helpfully
called himself "The Pirate" was running an FTP
site filled to the brim with warez, including
US$60,000 worth of unlicensed Novell software.
Phil, impersonating a trader, infiltrated the site
(admittedly no great feat), collected evidence,
then handed it over to the Swiss police. He
accompanied them on the raid to ensure no
evidence was damaged. "He was one of a new
breed who advertise on the Internet," says Phil.
"He made his files available via email requests
and telnet." Swiss police also raided the home of
a BBS called M-E-M-O, run by "The Shadow," a
friend of The Pirate. Unfortunately, The Shadow
was on holiday with his parents. The family
returned two weeks later to find their front
door broken down; the son was arrested. If
convicted, the young pirates face up to three
years in jail and possible $80,000 fines.
The Pirate's mistake - aside from his suicidal
choice of nickname - was to plant himself
geographically. Phil, a former corporate network
manager, was able to trace him through his FTP
site's IP address. Phil knows his networks; this
makes him the perfect undercover agent - and
one of Novell UK's most envied employees. "I play
on the Net all day," he says, "and get paid for it."
There's a bit more to it than that. Phil and his
counterparts in Asia and the US are deployed to
infiltrate pirate groups; to study IRC; to get
under the skin of the lamers, the dabblers, and
the professionals; to chat, seduce, charm, and
interact with the denizens of this bizarre
over-underworld. Phil talks to traders in their
own language, understands the tricks and traps.
After busting The Pirate, he says, "we were
talking and he was moaning about the
sluggishness of his network. I pointed out that,
aside from using LANtastic, he was using a
75-ohm terminator on the back of his file
server, slowing the whole thing down."
Now that he's back from Zürich, Phil will be
getting some new toys: the spoils of war. In
many jurisdictions, any hardware deemed to be
part of an illegal setup can be taken by
investigators and - if part of a civil prosecution
- can be worked in as part of the settlement.
Once sucked dry of evidence and incriminating
data, the cannibalized machines are moved to
Bracknell and hooked up to the network.
But despite the resources at his disposal and his
status as a network ninja, Phil doesn't always
get his man. "If there's a person out there who
has a decent level of technological awareness of
the ways he can be located, it's quite true to say
he could successfully hide himself, or use a
system where it would be impossible to track
him. It's technically possible for them to bounce
their messages all around the world and have us
running around like blue-arsed flies." It's a
reluctant admission, but then Phil is one person
pitted against thousands.
Successful prosecutions aren't always that easy
either. Take David LaMacchia, an MIT engineering
student who turned two of the school's servers
into drop sites and downloaded an estimated $1
million worth of pirated software. LaMacchia
was arrested in 1995, only to have the case
thrown out by a judge who ruled that no
"commercial motive" was involved. Prosecutors
tried charging him with wire fraud, but this was
ruled an unacceptable stretching of the law.
LaMacchia walked free. "Bringing Internet cases
through the judicial system is a nightmare,"
says Novell's Martin Smith. "Try talking to a
judge about 'dynamically allocated IP addresses.'
We don't have a chance."
Tell that to the former warez traders of
America Online, which had a meteoric history as
a pirate mecca. For years, instructions on how to
crack AOL's security and obtain free accounts
were a Usenet staple. Online, "freewarez" chat
rooms were packed with traders, 24 hours a day.
Megabytes of warez were kept in permanent
circulation.
Then came the crackdown of 1996, a dark period
in warez history. Goaded by software-industry
watchdogs, AOL introduced countermeasures to
disinfect its system; alt.binaries.warez was
removed from the Internet newsfeed. CATwatch
automated sentinels were placed on AOL's warez
chat channels, logging off anyone who entered.
"Free" accounts were traced and nuked. Michael,
the weight-lifting trader and also an AOL
veteran, says everyone thought that "the FBI had
infiltrated the warez groups, and we were all
going to get busted." On the cusp of the big time
- a top pirate outfit named Hybrid had a position
open - Michael had been hoping to prove himself
by doing a CD rip of the soccer game Euro 96. "I
was halfway through removing the FMV and CD
audio. I reckon I could've got it down from 58
disks to 9. But then everything went haywire."
Profit-driven crackers are actually the easiest
to catch: they have links to the real world,
starting with the money trail from credit cards.
And the easiest prey of all are BBSes, with their
telltale telephone connections. In January,
FBIagents led by the bureau's San
Francisco-based International Computer Crime
Squad raided homes and businesses in California
and half a dozen other states. They seized
computers, hard drives, and modems, though no
arrests were made. Along with Adobe, Autodesk,
and other BSA stalwarts, the list of software
companies involved included Sega and Sony - a
hint that the targets included gold-disk dupers
who counterfeit mass-market videogames.
Mad Hatter was not impressed. "Wow, I'm in
hiding," he cracked the day after the raids. But
"Cyber Strike" was, as BSAvice president Bob
Kruger said later in a statement, "the most
ambitious law enforcement action to date
against Internet piracy" - specifically, the first
UScase in which the FBI, rather than local
police, took the lead. And that can't help but
augment the BSA's number-one antipiracy tactic
for 1997: creating the "perception of threat."
And even warez gods don't necessarily want the
FBI on their case.
But bluster aside, people like Mad Hatter are
intrinsically - and deliberately - much harder to
catch. The most prestigious pirate groups -
Razor 1911, DOD, Pirates With Attitude, the
Inner Circle - are tightly knit clubs whose
members have known each other for years and
call each other "good friends" - though they
rarely, if ever, meet. Joining is no easy task.
Positions become vacant only when members
quit or are busted, or a vote is taken to expand
operations. Kudos and reputation are everything.
Unofficial homepages can be found here and
there, constructed by acolytes who celebrate the
groups' best releases and victories. These are
often padded out with cryptic biographies and
obituaries for those busted by the cops ("We feel
for ya!"). Despite the boasting, and the draping of
their releases with corporate motifs - logos,
front ends, graphics, even signature tunes and
Java applets - crackers' true identities typically
remain secret, even to one another.
The anonymity, however, works both ways.
Cloaked in his own secret identity, Phil says he
has managed to get deep within several major
groups in the past 18 months and is skimming
the surface of several others. He can
convincingly portray himself as a caring, sharing
warez god. "You make some good friends," he
says with a smile. And, it seems, you can end up
pretty impressed. "Some of these people are
incredibly talented. The logic and programming
behind their setups are just amazing." Or maybe
he's just bluffing?