UNDERGROUND

‘No,’ Mendax said. ‘I’d be pretty sure RMIT has kicked themselves out.’

‘Yeah, told them, “You had you’re chance, boys. Couldn’t catch anyone. Now pack your bags”.’

‘Right.’ Mendax paused. ‘Don’t know about NorTel though.’

‘Mmm, yeah,’ Prime Suspect said. Then, as usual, a silence began to descend on the conversation.

‘Running out of things to say . . .’ Mendax said finally. They were good enough friends for him to be blunt with Prime Suspect.

‘Yeah.’

More silence.

Mendax thought how strange it was to be such good friends with someone, to work so closely with him, and yet to always run out of conversation.

‘OK, well, I better go. Things to do,’ Mendax said in a friendly voice.

‘Yeah, OK. Bye Mendax,’ Prime Suspect said cheerfully.

Mendax hung up.

Prime Suspect hung up.

And the AFP stayed on the line.

In the twelve months following the initial line trace in late 1990, the AFP continued to monitor the RMIT dial-up lines. The line traces kept failing again and again. But as new reports of hacker attacks rolled in, there seemed to be a discernible pattern in many of the attacks. Detectives began to piece together a picture of their prey.

In 1990 and 1991, RMIT dial-ups and computers were riddled with hackers, many of whom used the university’s systems as a nest — a place to store files, and launch further attacks. They frolicked in the system almost openly, often using RMIT as a place to chat on-line with each other. The institute served as the perfect launchpad. It was only a local phone call away, it had a live Internet connection, a reasonably powerful set of computers and very poor security. Hacker heaven.