Keys

A week later, an American Air Force plane landed onto the concrete strip of the airfield with some small service buildings scattered around it. Accompanied by a whole group of American intelligence officers, Antony descended from the ramp. After long, depressing days in a stuffy solitary confinement, that was somewhat of a relief for him. Antony looked around, guessing where he ended up. It couldn’t be Thailand, as they had been flying for too long. This could not be the Baltic States or Poland, as palm trees grew. And it did not seem to be US, because everything here was pervaded by the feeling that all on that place was about to vanish soon with disgrace. The group walked three hundred meters through the shrubbery along a flagged path and entered a two-story red brick building. The flag of the United States yet waved on its portal! An unmarked guard in a gray uniform respectfully parted on the porch. Several personnel were waiting for Antony inside.

“Welcome to Guantanamo!” Someone in a black uniform, presumably a CIA officer, extended a friendly hand to Antony.

“I demand to be formally charged and to make my advocate present,” Antony ignored the outstretched hand.

“You are accused of aiding and abetting terrorism. Lawyers in a military court, are not provided, sorry.”

“Then I demand to be given the opportunity to contact the Russian Embassy and substantiate the accusation with facts in front of them.”

“You’ll demand from your Russian mistress if you return back. There is no Russian embassy in Guantanamo. The formal indictment will be presented to you later.” irritated CIA officer informed.

“You are violating several international conventions at once!” Antony stated paying no attention to reaction around.

“Tone it down – no one knows you’re here. So far, you’ve just gone missing. You don’t exist at all. You may have disappeared, may be drowned, or may be died in a drunken fight in pub. And whether you show up again at all depends on your behavior here. Am I making myself clear?” CIA officer asked.

“What do you need?" Antony replied to question by question.

“Just a collaboration. Take the prisoner away!” officer ordered.

The cell was clean and austere. No windows. Just a bed, a nightstand, and a towel were inside. While he was being held in Thailand and transported, Antony held firm. Now the depression was looming upon him. He realized that he was completely at the mercy of these military captors. That neither Russia nor the rest of the world, including ordinary Americans, know that he has been captured. Even his very life might be at stake at this secret prison. Antony lay down and began to think. Aiding and abetting terrorism is less than terrorism itself. In normal court it would be not realistic to attach such a ridiculous accusation to a programmer of a company that even is not under sanctions lists. However, in Guantanamo, it might be possible, who knows. Most likely, he faces a prison term in a foreign country. Maybe even a life sentence, like Victor Bout. Sleep didn’t come. Antony closed his eyes and began to meditate.

A nymph in a white airy dress dances on the edge of a cliff. Antony has never seen such fabulous woman before. He calls to her, and lo and behold, she obeys and begins descending to him! Antony can’t believe his eyes. She steps to him, she approaches him, she smiles at him revealing her snow-white teeth with a bluish tint. Her arms wrap around his body, and he notices a mole in front of her right earlobe. The nymph slightly sways him from side to side… then, she suddenly starts shaking him… Stronger… With unladylike strength!.. With beasty force!!! Antony woke up in horror – the caretaker was bending over him:

“For interrogation!”

Antony was led through a maze of corridors to a brightly lit room with gray walls and no windows. A middle-aged interrogator was already waiting for him. To the left of the table stood a powerful goon in an unmarked black uniform that could have been used to frighten children at night. He offered a chair. Antony sat down.

“You are a programmer from the Russian company ‘Traceless Hero’, aren’t you?” the interrogator asked.

“Let’s say so.”

“Do you realize that cryptographic firms like yours are harming society?” the interrogator began from afar.

“It is strange to hear such affirmation from a representative of a country which since its birth has declared the secret of private life as one of the inviolable sacred human rights.”

“We don’t care about anyone’s personal secrets. We are only interested in communications between terrorists and state criminals.”

“There is a very fine line between those. Therefore private life is untouchable in its entirety as a whole in any of its parts and you know it. To fish out criminal facts you do listen to the whole planet, don’t you?”

“Do you seriously believe everything Snowden said? We never had such intentions!”

“Intentions? In one thousand nine hundred and seventy-six, at the insistence of the National Security Agency, the key length of the US state encryption standard was deliberately reduced from one hundred and twelve to fifty-six bits, which created vulnerabilities through which the special services became able to open electronic correspondence of private citizens. A little later, the NSA, for the same purpose, convinced IBM to reduce the strength of the cipher in its devices. In the 1980s, the NSA thwarted the spread of the strong encryption algorithm of Rivest, Shamir and Adleman. At the same time, the leadership of the US National Science Foundation was imputed with the obligation to send all work on cryptography for approval to the special services. In 1991, under a bill of two hundred and sixty-six, all manufacturers of communication equipment were de-facto obliged to leave ‘back doors’ in their devices, which would allow the government to read the correspondence unencrypted. In the ninety-third, the Clipper Chip project was put forward, with an aim to install a microcircuit on all phones with an encryption function, which would give special services access to the owner’s secret private key. Closer to the year 2000, the United States, both at home and in Europe, pushed the idea of forcibly depositing all private keys into a common storage available to them. Shall I continue?”

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 - Taliban in The Russian Federation is recognized as a terrorist organization by The Supreme Court of Russia on February 14, 2003] !” the interrogator barked irritably.