Chapter 1
I was looking out the window from my office. Outside, huge, fluffy white snowdrifts were visible, and our department head's helicopter was landing on the helipad. Someone knocked very loudly on the door; it was my deputy.
"Comrade Major, permission to report."
"Report," I answered.
"General-Lieutenant Kalinin has arrived. He is gathering everyone in his conference room. You are ordered to attend the meeting," reported the young, lean captain. He had been working under me for three years now. A good guy, always disciplined and clean-shaven, not an ass-kisser, but not a schemer either. The latter was much more important to me.
"Yes, Captain, let's go. I'll just grab my tablet."
We walked down the large, dark corridor of our "firm." When I first arrived here, these corridors left an indelible impression on me.
It was 2004, and I was 17 years old. On a warm August morning, someone rang the doorbell to our apartment. Mom opened the door and saw two well-dressed men. One of them introduced himself as a state security officer. Mom let them into the apartment. They went to the kitchen, sat down, and asked her to call me. Honestly, I had no idea what was going on. Both guests looked similar, both dressed in black suits, white shirts, and black ties. They strongly resembled agents from a spy movie. I sat down on a chair in the kitchen, my whole demeanor showing I was very unhappy with their visit.
"Hello, I am Alexander Alexandrovich, a state security employee. Are you Starkov Pyotr Nikiforovich?"
"Yes, that's me."
"We have a few questions for you."
"Okay. I'm ready to answer them," I said, though honestly, my heart sank into my boots. I didn't understand why these men had come to our home, what they wanted from me. I was running through all possible scenarios and situations from the last few weeks.
"The thing is, Pyotr, we have received information that a group of young people in your area is periodically carrying out network attacks on state security servers. Over the past few weeks, they have taken our servers down eight times. Pyotr, tell me, do you know anything about this?"
After these words, I wanted to run out of the apartment. How did they know it was me and the guys who were taking down the servers of these internet "supermen" on order? I felt sorry for those soldiers of the invisible front: sitting every day behind old computers with a speed of 14800 bps… and we just wanted justice for them… My friends and I periodically took their servers down because it took about a week to restore one, and those who worked on it got two or three days off. That's how, one day, a young, but very myopic guy came to us with an order: to attack his server once a week. We agreed, as he paid well. When I asked why he needed so many days off, he said his father was ill and needed constant care now. We even felt awkward taking his money, but we took it and honestly fulfilled his order.
