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“Then we have no idea in what direction Nutsbe needs his defense up,” Titus said.
“Witness protection program,” Finley kidded. “We can get the marshals involved.”
“Hell to the no, we’re not getting the marshals involved,” Nutsbe stabbed a finger onto the table punctuating each word. “These last two days are starting to make my mind spin. It’s like the flying monkeys in The Wizard of Oz. It’s coming in from all sides. You guys didn’t just come down here to do a welfare check. What’s up?” Nutsbe asked.
“We know how Russia got hold of your name. And going forward, you, and more broadly Iniquus, will want this information. It’s classified. My superior, Frost, permitted me to read you into this part. And since the FBI often works hand in hand with Iniquus,” He looked at his watch. “I’ve got an appointment here in a minute to explain this to your command and head of IT.”
Nutsbe reached up to rub the corner of his eye. “All right, let’s hear it. They didn’t hack our computers. Did the FBI get hacked?”
“Not to our knowledge,” Kennedy said. “While Iniquus has leaned into AI from the beginning, you know that’s a double-edged sword. Like anything, the good is quickly overshadowed by people with less-than-golden intentions. In this case, AI sound technology is the problem. We believe they got your name through your fingerprint.”
Thorn walked through the door, moved to the table, and sat facing the special agents.
“We’re about to learn how Russia got hold of my identification through sound,” Nutsbe filled him in.
“Shit,” Thorn said.
“Sound and fingerprints?” Nutsbe turned to Finley. “My fingerprints are on file with the FBI for security clearances. I don’t use my fingerprint as biometric identification. I think it leads to a dangerous trail. You never know what the engineers are going to figure out next.”
“There is now an AI system,” Finley said, “that automatically identifies a person’s fingerprints through the swipe of a finger on a touchscreen apparatus—computer, smartphone, tablet. When swiping, the gesture creates a friction sound that is captured and analyzed using a localized algorithm. The AI system can infer from the sound irregularities and interpret the noise to create a reproduction of individual's fingerprints.”
“The sound,” Nutsbe was flabbergasted, “of me swiping my finger on a screen.”
Titus turned to Thorn. “Would Arya know anything about that?”
“Negative. Arya studies large animals with low resonance sound waves. And even if she knew anything about it, would I allow you to talk to her about a terrorist? Hell no, brother, I would not.”
“Is this swipe-sound technology accurate enough to be used in a court of law?” Nutsbe asked.
“At this stage,” Finley said, “it’s helping both the good and the bad guys comb through the haystack to pick out the possible needle. Once you’re on their radar, the next steps can be taken to refine and confirm.”
“The FBI has gamed this out,” Kennedy said. “Since biometric fingerprint securityis widespread, if the AI capability continues to advance, illegal market fingerprint authentication information could criminally generate about a hundred billion US dollars in the next decade. Businesses and people who work in sensitive fields have been cautious about revealing their fingerprints. Some people in intelligence have become very aware of their hands in photographs. CIA, DIA, and FBI are all coached on this now. The right camera shot, an excellent computer system, and the finger pad could be enlarged and focused to expose the fingerprint for exploitation. But why put assets out in public, working to capture that picture? A viral app—one that requires you to swipe—so think, game, screen, anything with a downward swipe—and the AI can capture the sound and create the print for hundreds of millions of people and hold them on file. Make that app free, let it go viral, and you could build a computer bank of players’ biomarkers very quickly.”
Nutsbe laced his fingers, resting his hands on his head. “I swiped something.”
“You did,” Kennedy said quietly. “We think at least twice.”
“Do you know what it was?” Nutsbe asked.
Finley leaned forward. “We believe that Russia captured your print most recently when you talked to Iniquus client Amanda Bradshaw.”
Nutsbe moved his hands to the arms of his chair and leaned forward. “I know the name. I met her once in person, and she contacted me once with a security question. She was a student who was doing research at the August Helsinki meeting when Panther Force was doing close protection for State.”
Titus said, “Panther Force was contracted by her university to provide kidnap and ransom support if needed—which it was not—we played no role.”
“Nutsbe introduced himself,” Kennedy said. “It’s in his reports.”
“That’s right,” Nutsbe agreed, “I introduced myself, but not by name. I said I was with Iniquus Panther Force and that we had a connection to her university. I didn’t go into any details beyond that.”
“One of the last photos from the meeting had you in it,” Kennedy said. “You were in your Iniquus uniform, shaking Bradshaw’s hand. She went to Moscow to visit her grandmother and was arrested. Her grandmother called the U.S. consulate, and we began to monitor her phone. Since that arrest, she called and talked to you, sending you a link.” Kennedy paused, turning to Titus. “Any word on her well-being?”
“Nothing we can share,” Titus said. He turned to Nutsbe, “Amanda was arrested in Moscow on espionage charges.”
Nutsbe scowled by way of response. “You said Russia had my Thaddeus Crushed name. Amanda doesn’t know my name. But you’re right, recently, she called the Iniquus help number given to her university. Communications would have directed the call to my phone. She wanted me to check on a website for her.”
“We monitored and recorded that interaction from her phone. We believe they took your swipe from the Bradshaw call as the collection point,” Kennedy said.
“Why do you think that? That swipe on my phone would have given them nothing to make Russia curious about me,” Nutsbe insisted.
