Hoover didn’t react, much. Instead, he reached into his briefcase and produced a pamphlet. Oliver examined it with interest; it hadn’t been printed on any printer that his companies had sold. Its crudity suggested a cheaper system. Still, it was instructive.
Nuts and bolts clank into the ‘Help Britain, defeat Nazism’ collection boxes in industrial plants. “Not a dime for the imperialists,” say the boys on the assembly line. What guy would be dumb enough to lay his hard-earned dimes on Britain, when the nation of Imperialists is backed by the Hoovers and Fords and all the rest of the fanciest punks?
And their leader, SIR Hanover, a mass-murderer who personally ordered the mass slaughter of thousands of Romanians, instead of liberating them as promised, and who has killed thousands of workers and peasants fighting for freedom. This man is armed by the rich, the famous, those who want to end worker power and take the world back to barons in castles. And, least we forget, the man who slaughtered thousands of Americans, merely to bring the United States into the war against Socialism!!!
Today, the British Big Bankers are paying that price in full – the debt for the slaughtered Romanians!!!
“Who was it who said that three exclamation marks is the sign of a diseased mind?” Oliver asked. Hoover shrugged. “I thought they didn’t make them like this anymore.”
“That document was found in Detroit, in one of the automobile plants that is now turning out tanks for the army,” Tolson said. Oliver had wondered when he would speak. “During the Russian invasion of helpless Finland, the first invasion, there were similar posters… most of which were being torn down by the workers.” He chuckled. “The subversives were defeated by the sheer illogic of their arguments; how could tiny Finland pose a threat to giant Russia? Now… now, Mr Oliver, people appear to be listening.”
“You have seen some of the outrages in the South,” Hoover said. “This is clearly the result of carefully-planned subversion.”
“Perhaps,” Oliver said. Privately, he didn’t believe it; the Negro-related incidents were mainly caused by a sudden infusion of ideals from 2015… and the simple truth that things could be better. “Still… what do you expect me to do about it?”
“Is it not obvious?” Hoover demanded. “I want you to shut down your Internet!”
Oliver sighed. For a long moment, he considered simply saying ‘yes’ and then convincing Hoover that he had do so. It wasn’t possible, though, and sooner or later the FBI would catch on. If used properly, Hoover might be… helpful for Oliver’s own long-term plans.
“I can’t do that,” he said, and tried to sound regretful. Tolson banged the table; Oliver, who’d seen Kasper in a rage, wasn’t intimidated. Hoover seemed… annoyed. “It’s quite impossible,” he continued.
Hoover met his eyes. Oliver wondered absently what Hoover thought of the X-Files; he’d certainly been quite eager to have the FBI-based show displayed at cinemas and television houses. “Tell me,” Hoover said slowly, “why can’t you shut down your internet?”
Oliver smiled. The FBI clearly hadn’t gotten a proper webhead yet, or even an Information Manager. “Because it isn’t my Internet,” he said, and smiled at the looks on their faces. “The system is a distributed network involving a number of servers that jointly uphold the network that supports the Internet and is designed to survive even a nuclear war. The elements I do have control over, the servers mounted here and elsewhere, are only a tiny portion of the Internet in America… and nothing compared to the nodes in Britain.
“Even if I did take down the nodes I have here, it would only impede any half-way competent cyberpunk for a few moments,” he continued. “Each one of the laptops is designed to scan automatically for other nodes or servers; in order to prevent the system from working you would have to take down every node and communication circuit, including the ones in Britain, Canada and the rest of the world.”
He fought hard to keep from laughing at the stunned looks on their faces. “If you, by some dark miracle, managed that, you would take down every telephone, mobile phone, computer network and defence system in the world. You would give the war to the Germans and their allies; you would cause no end of economic damage… and I fancy that the world would be more than a little annoyed with you.”
Hoover took several breaths. “I don’t understand,” he confessed finally. “You are telling me that it is impossible to shut down the network?”
“The network is designed to be impossible to shut down,” Oliver said.
“So how can we catch them?” Tolson asked. “They could be up to anything!”
“Oh, there are ways,” Oliver said, “but tracing them would be very difficult. You see, the system is designed to be hard to trace as well.”
“Why?” Hoover demanded. “What sort of government comes up with an idea like that?”
“The United States of America, circa 2010,” Oliver said. “You see, the United States of that time was too… indolent to knock over the many petty dictatorships that existed, so the ‘laptops for all’ were designed to prevent people from… well, tracing the people who might have democratic ideals. The idea was that with communications and untraceable systems, they would be able to overthrow their governments.”
“I am really curious as to who thought that was a good idea,” Hoover said, with heavy sarcasm. “I imagine that their ancestors must be alive now.”
“It hardly matters,” Oliver said. This was it; the bait had to be prepared carefully. “However, there are other ways in which I can help the FBI.”
Hoover looked up at him, like a man clutching on to a lifeline. “There have been dozens of advances in surveillance technology, for example, in the years between now and 2015,” Oliver said. “Many of them, in fact, were perfected by your own people, under your leadership.”
“Then why haven’t we been given them?” Tolson demanded. “According to Britain’s own laws…”
“They don’t want to give you anything that might remove their advantages,” Oliver said dryly. He had no idea if that was true or not, but surveillance technology was on the restricted list. “It would limit their own options and…”
“I knew it,” Hoover said. “It was bad enough when they slandered MacArthur, a noted Anglophobe, out of his position, but now… do you mean to tell me that British Intelligence is conducting operations on my soil!”
“Possibly,” Oliver said. “I don’t have any knowledge of such operations. It is feared that I am too… pro-American.”
He waited to see if Hoover took the bait. “Can you get us some samples of that technology?” Hoover asked. “The department would be prepared to pay handsomely.”
“There are some payments that don’t come in pounds or dollars,” Oliver said carefully. “I would like some political… cover.”
Tolson glared at him. His role seemed to be that of semi-thug. “And why do you want that?”
“Some of the items I will… acquire for you are illegal,” Oliver said, “even though they can be purchased at a number of spy shops. If the Prime Minister demands my head…”
“The Bureau would be happy to provide some… protection,” Hoover said. “We do have a great deal of experience in the matter.”