Eagle, I don't want to form an alliance anymore.

The first step is to obtain the IP address.

The Vicher forum's servers hid the posters' IP addresses from ordinary users, but Bartmore wasn't an ordinary user. He had previously done technical maintenance for several small forums and knew many backdoors in the forum system. He used a trick to pull the IP addresses of "AAA Arrest Warrant Wholesale Bear Brother" from an old Vicher interface for their most recent logins.

The IP address points to a network segment in Moscow.

Further investigation revealed that this network segment belongs to the campus network of Moscow State University.

It's most likely a full-time student, but since a large area around Moscow State University relies on this network segment for internet access, we'll have to investigate further.

So he started looking up the phone number. Moscow State University's campus network had an internal user directory. Like many universities, early network management was loose, and part of the user directory was semi-public. Razzi searched through the directory for a while using the IP address and found a matching user account, but the account's personal information was hidden; he didn't have the necessary permissions!

It's okay, these days geeks need to learn social engineering to unpack boxes.

Barthes immediately called the technical support site at the Moscow State University Information Center. He found the information of the maintenance personnel for the OGAS upstream node on the campus network, and then impersonated them, saying:

"Our logs show that your node XXX terminal sent an abnormal data packet on X month X day at X hour. I need to confirm the registered user information and contact information of this terminal in order to troubleshoot the problem."

The staff at the Moscow State University Information Center had not received any security awareness training—who the hell would have thought someone would use such methods in the Soviet Union in 1992? So they simply gave out the contact number registered on the terminal (a dedicated line managed by a KGB agent at the university) and the work address (a regular student dormitory at the university where the KGB agent worked).

Okay, phone number, IP address, work address... Lazi organized this information.

"Hmph, you've caught the mouse by the tail, haven't you?"

He scoffed.

It turns out Brother Xiong is just a college student—or a graduate student, or maybe a young teacher. In any case, he's a bookworm from Moscow!

No wonder he speaks with such official jargon; he probably studied political economy, read a few books in school and thinks he understands national affairs, then goes online to lecture ordinary people.

Bartmores decided to post Slava's information first. The ban is now over.

User "Minsk Metro Last Train":

Hey everyone, I've found some information about that guy I was just arguing with, "AAA Arrest Warrant Wholesaler Xiong Ge". Hehe, do you want to see what our veteran is like in real life?

The bloodthirsty audience below, eager for a good show, immediately demanded that Bartmos reveal Slava's personal information. At this moment, Bartmos also saw that Brother Xiong's good friend, Sister Long, was posting.

User "AAA Five-Year Plan Writing Sister Long":

@MinskMetroLastTrain, I suggest you don't post personal information. Seriously, it's not too late to turn back now, trust me.

Barthemos grinned. He didn't care about any of that. Send it!

User "Minsk Metro Last Train":

Telephone: XXXX-XXXX

IP: 192.168.XX.XX (Moscow State University campus network segment)

Work/Study Location: Dormitory Building No. 3, Faculty of Economics and Management, Moscow State University

Haha, the General Secretary said that college students should focus on their studies. Did you understand, little bear?

The post generated a huge response.

"Wasn't I being a bit too ruthless by rushing to the last train, digging up dirt on him like that?" "Brother Xiong is from Moscow State University? No wonder, Moscow State University produced the most keyboard warriors in the entire Soviet Union."

"Last Train, this isn't a good idea... You're sending out other people's phone numbers? Aren't you afraid Brother Xiong will have your information leaked too?"

Barthemos replied, "Let him come if he dares! I'm not afraid of him offline either!"

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

At this very moment, in the office of the General Secretary of the Kremlin.

"Get me to the KGB's 16th Division! Damn it! If he dares to open my box today, he'll dare to leak my itinerary to the CIA tomorrow. Give him a taste of his own medicine!"

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

Barthes was a very curious person. For most people, once they'd uncovered their opponent's secrets, that would be enough. But he wasn't normal—he was a geek, someone who found pleasure in digging up information. Now that he had access to Moscow State University's campus network, he wanted to see what else "Brother Bear" had on the university's servers.

He followed the user account to a temporary file directory on the Moscow State University server.

The permissions for this directory are quite strict—clearly, the system administrator at Moscow State University is very competent, but Barthemos, a computer whiz, managed to hack in and gain administrator privileges at a computing center that collaborates with Moscow State University.

In 1992, remote login relied on two services: rsh (remote shell) and rlogin (remote login). Their authentication mechanisms were extremely weak—they only checked which IP address the request came from. If machine A trusted machine B, then a login request from machine B did not require a password.

This "trust relationship" configuration was written in a file called .rhosts. At the time, almost all administrators set it up this way because typing the password was too troublesome.

So Barthes used the trusted node administrator account to log into the MONU Information Center with a trusted identity and obtained shell privileges, directly copying all the files that the target user's directory had temporarily stored on the server.

The Kremlin's information center is "affiliated" with Moscow State University, and it accesses the OGAS network through the university's information center. Therefore, when Slava sends files from the Kremlin's terminal to external, rather than internal, networks, the Moscow State University's information center acts as a relay node.

At the time, Soviet server systems would create a temporary cache locally when processing file transfers, and a copy of the file to be sent would be kept in the sending queue. Theoretically, this cache should be cleared after the transfer was completed. However, in the early days of system management in 1992, this clearing was often not timely, or because there was ample disk space (for large information centers), automatic clearing was simply not configured.

Bartmos quickly retrieved some files related to Brother Xiong from the server's temporary cache directory.

He randomly opened one of them; the file contained a chat log. It looked like an archive from some kind of instant messaging system, possibly a temporary cache exported from an encrypted communication tool within an organization.

The two people chatting have different IDs: one is displayed as "II" and the other as "NR".

The content is roughly as follows:

II: What do you think of the minister's matter?

NR: Which one?

II: The Ministry of Internal Affairs. Do you think Bakatin is still usable?

NR: His abilities are fine, but his connections with local authorities are too deep. If you want to make personnel changes within the Ministry of the Interior, he will be an obstacle.

II: Do you have anyone you would recommend?

NR: Let me think...

Barthemos found this somewhat interesting but didn't think much of it. He assumed it was just two political science students simulating a political dialogue or doing some kind of role-playing.

College students often like to pretend they are national leaders, which is caused by too much political maneuvering.

He continued flipping through the pages.

II: Grishin, what do you think of party cadres like Yeltsin who cause trouble?

GV: A typical liberal, ambitious, popular, and unafraid of trouble. Deal with him sooner rather than later, lest he become a hidden danger.

II: How do you plan to deal with this?

GV: It depends on what outcome you want. If it's just to keep him quiet, transferring him out of Moscow will suffice. If you want a complete solution—

II: No need to be so extreme. He's quite well-behaved now. Gorbachev and he are currently in the same mental hospital, and the two of them are probably having a great time discussing democratization. I'd really like to take some time to visit him at the Minsk XX Sanatorium.

Bartmores stopped pointing when he saw the words "mental hospital".

His uncle worked at a special medical facility on the outskirts of Minsk. The facility was outwardly known as an ordinary sanatorium, but Bartmos's uncle once told him, after drinking too much, that some "big shots" lived there.

The uncle didn't elaborate on who these important figures were, only vaguely mentioning, "They were all high-ranking officials from the past, people from Gorbachev's time."

He didn't pay much attention at the time, but now... an ordinary student playing role-playing games wouldn't know about this kind of thing.

Barthemos had a bad feeling. He quickly went back to review the chat logs and checked them against the Politburo list one by one.

II is an abbreviation for Ivanovich Ivanov, NR is for Prime Minister Nikolai Ryzhkov, and GV is for Viktor Grishin, Secretary of the Moscow City Committee.

Bartmore's bread fell to the ground. Before he could pick it up, he quickly looked through the files for the phone number that Brother Xiong had left when communicating with others.

There are many telephones on the General Secretary's desk, most of which are internal lines, but one of them is for communicating with the outside world.

He still clung to a last shred of hope: maybe it really was just a role-playing game, maybe the chat logs were fabricated, maybe it was all just a coincidence...

He picked up the phone next to him and dialed the number.

"Beep-beep-beep-"

The call connected. A woman's voice came from the other end, sounding somewhat like the accent of the Foreign Minister:

"Hello, this is the General Secretary's office. May I ask who you are?"

We're doomed, family.

Bartmores slowly put down the phone and sat down in the armchair.

The basement was quiet. A drop of water dripped from the overhead pipe, making a soft "plop" sound as it hit the concrete floor.

No, he has to pack his things and run away immediately!

"Boom boom boom!"

"Hello, this is the community water meter check!"

As Barthemos tidied up, he shouted out, "The water meter is outside!"

A few minutes later, there was another knock on the door.

"Open the door! Delivery person!" "Leave the package at the door!"

Bartmores had already slung his bag over his shoulder and was ready to run away. There was a lot of clanging and banging noise in the room, and his intuition told him that something was wrong.

"Lazi! Open the door! It's me!" The apartment manager knocked on the door, his voice trembling for some reason.

"Administrator? What's up?"

"Nothing, the community gave out cakes, I brought them to you!"

Should I open the door or not? But I can clearly hear the building manager's voice outside...

Seeing that there seemed to be no movement inside, the person waiting outside suddenly slammed the door! A voice roared:

"Are you going to open the door or not?!"

"I won't open it! You leave! I'm a Soviet citizen! I'm calling the police!"

"The police are outside, just surrender—Demolition Team 1, prepare! Three! Two! One!"

"boom!!!"

Chapter 131 The United States needs to build a wall on the internet to protect freedom!

Cold...shivering...

Bartholomew's residence is located in a mysterious building in Moscow, in a room that even American satellites cannot detect.

The interrogation room had no windows. The walls were a somber gray-green, and a single incandescent bulb hung from the ceiling, casting a light that stung the eyes.

Directly below the lamp was a metal table and a metal chair. The chair had no cushion and was cold and hard to sit on. There was no heating in the interrogation room, and Moscow in March was very cold, making one's teeth chatter constantly.

Lazi Bartomos is sitting in this chair.

He had been sitting there for who knows how long. Maybe two hours, maybe four. There was no clock or window in this interrogation room, so he couldn't tell whether it was day or night outside.

His watch was taken away when he came in. His belt, shoelaces, wallet... everything he could use to harm himself was taken away.

His memory was still of a plastic explosive being thrown in after the door was blown open, the shockwave slamming him against the wall, and then everything went black—when he woke up, he was here.

Two men in prosecutor's uniforms sat on the other side of the table. Their faces were partially obscured by the angle of the light, and Barthemos could only make out their chins and lips. One man had a square chin and was clean-shaven; the other had thin lips that barely moved when he spoke.

Fang Xiaba spoke first.

"Name."

“La...Razi Bartomos”.

"gender."

"male."

"date of birth."

"March 14, 1968..."

"address."

“Minsk Oblast—uh…basement of apartment building number 14, 7th Avenue, Lenin District, Minsk City.”

A man with a square chin was writing on a document. A man with thin lips sat beside him, watching him silently.

After confirming his identity, Fang Xiaba took a folder out from under the table. He opened it, pulled out a few papers, and slammed them onto the table in front of Barthemos.

"Look, is this a post you made on the forum?"

Bartmore looked down—it was his chat history. Every single post he had made on the Vicher Forum had been printed out, word for word!

His lips were a little dry.

Fang Xiaba slapped another stack of papers on top of the previous one. These were photocopies of documents that Bartholomew had downloaded from the Moscow State University server, each page stamped with a red seal in the upper right corner—"Top Secret."

“Citizen Razzie Bartholomew,” the square-chinned man said emotionlessly, “do you know what you’ve done?”

Barthes opened his mouth, and after a long pause, tentatively asked: