She changed to a slide of translated Internet headlines from a passel of third-world sites. They listed dozens of killings in Asia and Russia.

"This appears to have sparked a brief gang war, followed by a purge within the ranks of the gang's IT staff. The CIA estimates several dozen related killings, but notably, all during this period, the DDOS attacks did not let up and shifted constantly to originate from new locations. The Russian enterprise did not recover until the end of January, when it was suddenly fully operational."

She looked up at her audience. "The following cell phone conversation was intercepted by ComSat assets over the Republic of Georgia on January twenty-ninth and is a conversation between an unidentified caller and a known Russian mafia figure based in St. Petersburg, herein denoted as Vassili.The transcript is available over Echelon. The abstract number is listed in your presentation binder. This raw intercept comes to us compliments of Group W." She turned to face the screen as tinny, foreign chatter came in over speakers. An instant translation appeared on the screen in a scrolling fashion as the words were uttered in Russian:

Vassili: We're driving. Tupo [nearby person], no. Where are you? Where are you now?

Caller: Belize City.

Vassili: They are online there?

Caller: Yes, yes. They're running perfect.

Vassili: Perfect? Since when?

Caller: Perfect, like before perfect.

Vassili: Before the attacks?

Caller: Yes, yes.

Vassili: Do they know the extent of it there?

Caller: No. Nobody knows.

Vassili: They're angry about Tupolov, yes?

Caller: Yes. But they have their money now.

Vassili: You paid the dead American?

Caller: Yes.

Vassili: And now we're online again?

Caller: Yes.

Vassili: [unintelligible]. They'll be next, and we must regain market share while they are down. You know what to do?

Caller: Yes. Sobol told us.

The screen cleared and the lights came up as animated discussions filled the room. Philips called to be heard over the din. "There are additional intercepts of a similar nature, but I think this is a representative sample. The waves of attacks continued until a couple of months ago, hitting each organization in turn-and growing in ferocity-at which point they disappeared suddenly and entirely."

One of the DOD brass spoke up, "What's your read on all this, Doctor?"

"I think the crime gangs running online gambling and pornography have been forced to pay protection money to someone or something."

"You conclude that from one intercept?"

"This is one of dozens of intercepts, the transcripts of which you will find in your presentation binders."

"How much money are we talking about here?"

Philips placed the laser pointer on the nearby podium. "We have an e-mail intercept from a Thai gang that mentions a ten percent gross payment."

"Ten percent of gross?"

"All online transactions. The CIA estimates worldwide revenue from online gambling and pornography at approximately seventeen billion U.S. dollars per year. In truth, no one really knows. But if we use this as a baseline and extrapolate, assuming that the Daemon has-"

"You're talking about a couple billion dollars a year."

"There is anecdotal evidence that these payments represent an outsourcing of the IT security function of these criminal gangs to some unknown entity." She paused, either for effect or to gather her courage-even she wasn't sure which. "We suspect that the entity is not a living person but a massively parallel logical construct. I believe it's Sobol's Daemon."

The room erupted in talk for several moments until someone in the back shouted over the din, "How do you know it's not just another gang?"

The noise died down to hear her response.

Philips nodded. "Because that was the first thing the Russians thought. Quite a few hackers died at their hands in an effort to identify those responsible. At some point the Russians were presented with evidence that convinced them no living person was behind this attack. We don't know yet what that evidence was-but we have operatives attempting to get their hands on it."

The division chief just looked at her. "This is reckless conjecture. We've got Detective Sebeck convicted and on death row, Cheryl Lanthrop dead, and Jon Ross on the run. This situation is under control."

The most senior NSA suit spoke. "I disagree. Right now the media is stoking a panic on cyber crime. A public discovery that Sobol's Daemon was preying on Internet business could spook the financial markets."

A visiting analyst from the FBI Cyber Division shook his head. "The facts don't support the media panic, sir. Overall reported incidents of computer break-ins this year are down slightly-not up. In fact, we could spin the demise of gambling and pornography sites as a positive."

Philips regarded the FBI agent, then turned to the room in general. "Anyone have anything on the media's current fascination with cyber security? Does anyone know what's driving it?"

"Sebeck's trial?"

The FBI analyst began to hold court on the topic. "The government has few real controls over either the Internet or private data networks. This manufactured panic is addressing an actual deficiency in the cyber infrastructure. It's the invisible hand of the market in action."

Philips looked impassively at him. "Unless it's already too late."

The NSA section chief raised an eyebrow. "Is your copycat Daemon up to something more than demanding tribute from pornographers, Dr. Philips?"

She revealed no emotion. "For one, I believe it isSobol's Daemon."

"Highly unlikely." The FBI analyst looked ready to disprove anything. He just needed fresh grist for his logic mill.

Philips continued. "Gentlemen, there are loose ends all over the Sobol case. There's the poisoning death of Lionel Crawly-the voice-over artist for Sobol's game Over the Rhine. What dialogue did he record that we have no knowledge of? The introduction of a strange edifice in Sobol's online game The Gateat almost the instant of his death. And then there are the back doors in his games-"

"There are no back doors in his games." The FBI analyst scanned the faces in the room. "It's a fact."

The NSA chief kept his eyes on Philips. "Your Internet traffic analysis was interesting, Doctor, but if you have evidence linking Sobol's Daemon with the Daemon attacking G/P sites, then where is it?"

"In Sobol's game maps."

"Steganography? Didn't you explore that last year?"

"Fleetingly-before Sebeck's arrest. But let's not forget that Sobol was an extraordinarily intelligent man. He was able to envision multiple axes simultaneously."

"Is that a polysyllabic way to say he thinks outside the box?"

A senior cryptanalyst nearby removed his glasses and started cleaning them. "No offense, Dr. Philips, but if Sobol's games contained steganographic content, you should have readily detected it by plotting the magnitude of a two-dimensional Fast Fourier Transform of the bit-stream. This would show telltale discontinuities at a rate roughly above ten percent."

Philips aimed an anti-smile in his direction. "Thank you, Doctor. Had I not spent the last six years expanding the frontiers of your discipline, I'm sure I would find your input invaluable."

The division chief cleared his throat. "The point is still valid, Doctor. How could Sobol hide a back door in a program using steganography, of all things? Doesn't that just hide data? You can't execute steganographic code."

The FBI analyst couldn't hold back. "Even if he was storing encrypted code within art asset files, he'd still need code to extract the encrypted elements-and we would have found the extraction routines in the source."