hn-classics/_stories/2007/8349238.md

---
created_at: '2014-09-22T04:27:55.000Z'
title: The Athens Affair – The most audacious cell-network break-in (2007)
url: http://spectrum.ieee.org/telecom/security/the-athens-affair
author: milkshakes
points: 76
story_text: ''
comment_text: 
num_comments: 12
story_id: 
story_title: 
story_url: 
parent_id: 
created_at_i: 1411360075
_tags:
- story
- author_milkshakes
- story_8349238
objectID: '8349238'
year: 2007

---
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![the athens affair opener](/img/07GreekWiretapopener-1376055168987.jpg)

Photo: Fotoagentur/Alamy

**On 9 March 2005,** a 38-year-old Greek electrical engineer named
Costas Tsalikidis was found hanged in his Athens loft apartment, an
apparent suicide. It would prove to be merely the first public news of a
scandal that would roil Greece for months.

The next day, the prime minister of Greece was told that his cellphone
was being bugged, as were those of the mayor of Athens and at least 100
other high-ranking dignitaries, including an employee of the U.S.
embassy \[see sidebar “CEOs, MPs, & a PM.”\]

The victims were customers of Athens-based Vodafone-Panafon, generally
known as Vodafone Greece, the country's largest cellular service
provider; Tsalikidis was in charge of network planning at the company. A
connection seemed obvious. Given the list of people and their positions
at the time of the tapping, we can only imagine the sensitive political
and diplomatic discussions, high-stakes business deals, or even marital
indiscretions that may have been routinely overheard and, quite
possibly, recorded.

Image credits: Keystone/Getty Images; Right: Richard Harrington/Three
Lions/Getty Images Punjab Photo/AFP/Getty Images; Nuclear Power Corp. of
India; T.C. Malhotra/Getty Images Babu/Reuters; Sondeep Shankar/
Bloomberg News/Landov; B Mathur/Reuters

 

Even before Tsalikidis's death, investigators had found rogue software
installed on the Vodafone Greece phone network by parties unknown. Some
extraordinarily knowledgeable people either penetrated the network from
outside or subverted it from within, aided by an agent or mole. In
either case, the software at the heart of the phone system,
investigators later discovered, was reprogrammed with a finesse and
sophistication rarely seen before or since.

A study of the Athens affair, surely the most bizarre and embarrassing
scandal ever to engulf a major cellphone service provider, sheds
considerable light on the measures networks can and should take to
reduce their vulnerability to hackers and moles.

It's also a rare opportunity to get a glimpse of one of the most elusive
of cybercrimes. Major network penetrations of any kind are exceedingly
uncommon. They are hard to pull off, and equally hard to investigate.

#### CEOs, MPs & a PM

The illegally wiretapped cellphones in the Athens affair included those
of the prime minister, his defense and foreign affairs ministers, top
military and law enforcement officials, the Greek EU commissioner,
activists, and journalists.

![Hellas](/img/athensHellas-1374846492259.jpg)

Photo: Kostas Tsironis/AP Photo On 6 April 2006, **Bill Zikou,** CEO of
Ericsson Hellas, was summoned to give evidence before a parliamentary
committee looking into the scandal. His company provided the
telecommunications switching equipment that rogue programmers broke
into.

![koronias](/img/athenssb102-1374848120085.jpg)

Photo: Kostas Tsironis/AP Photo Vodafone Greece CEO Giorgos Koronias
ordered the removal of the surveillance program, because, as he
explained in a February 2006 newspaper interview, “the company had to
react immediately.” Removing the program is thought to have tipped off
the perpetrators and helped them evade capture.

![Karamanlis](/img/athenssb103-1374848308701.jpg)

Photo: Johanna Leguerre/AFP/Getty Images Greek Prime Minister Costas
Karamanlis was only the most notable of the 100 or so individuals
illegally wiretapped, which, besides the country’s political, law
enforcement, and military elite, included Karamanlis’s wife.

![Tsalikidis](/img/athenssb104-1374849268742.jpg)

Photo: AFP/Getty Images Costas Tsalikidis was found hanged, an apparent
suicide, just before the Athens affair became public. As a
telecommunications engineer in charge of network planning at Vodafone,
he was ideally placed to be either an inside accomplice or discoverer of
the digital break-in. But his involvement in the case has never been
established.

![VoulGarakis](/img/athenssb105-1374850104990.jpg)

Photo: Louisa Gouliamaki/AFP/Getty Images GiorGos VoulGarakis was the
first government official to whom Koronias disclosed the case. Giannis
Angelou, the director of the Prime Minister’s political office, was also
present.

Even among major criminal infiltrations, the Athens affair stands out
because it may have involved state secrets, and it targeted
individuals—a combination that, if it had ever occurred before, was
not disclosed publicly. The most notorious penetration to compromise
state secrets was that of the “Cuckoo's Egg,” a name bestowed by the
wily network administrator who successfully pursued a German programmer
in 1986. The programmer had been selling secrets about the U.S.
Strategic Defense Initiative (“Star Wars”) to the Soviet KGB.

But unlike the Cuckoo's Egg, the Athens affair targeted the
conversations of specific, highly placed government and military
officials. Given the ease with which the conversations could have been
recorded, it is generally believed that they were. But no one has found
any recordings, and we don't know how many of the calls were recorded,
or even listened to, by the perpetrators. Though the scope of the
activity is to a large extent unknown, it's fair to say that no other
computer crime on record has had the same potential for capturing
information about affairs of state.

While this is the first major infiltration to involve cellphones, the
scheme did not depend on the wireless nature of the network. Basically,
the hackers broke into a telephone network and subverted its built-in
wiretapping features for their own purposes. That could have been done
with any phone account, not just cellular ones. Nevertheless, there are
some elements of the Vodafone Greece system that were unique and crucial
to the way the crime was pulled off.

We still don't know who committed this crime. A big reason is that the
UK-based Vodafone Group, one of the largest cellular providers in the
world, bobbled its handling of some key log files. It also reflexively
removed the rogue software, instead of letting it continue to run,
tipping off the perpetrators that their intrusion had been detected and
giving them a chance to run for cover. The company was fined 76 million
this past December.

To piece together this story, we have pored through hundreds of pages of
depositions, taken by the Greek parliamentary committee investigating
the affair, obtained through a freedom of information request filed with
the Greek Parliament. We also read through hundreds of pages of
documentation and other records, supplemented by publicly available
information and interviews with independent experts and sources
associated with the case. What emerges are the technical details, if not
the motivation, of a devilishly clever and complicated computer
infiltration.

**The cellphone bugging** began sometime during the fevered run-up to
the August 2004 Olympic Games in Athens. It remained undetected until 24
January 2005, when one of Vodafone's telephone switches generated a
sequence of error messages indicating that text messages originating
from another cellphone operator had gone undelivered. The switch is a
computer-controlled component of a phone network that connects two
telephone lines to complete a telephone call. To diagnose the failures,
which seemed highly unusual but reasonably innocuous at the time,
Vodafone contacted the maker of the switches, the Swedish
telecommunications equipment manufacturer Ericsson.

We now know that the illegally implanted software, which was eventually
found in a total of four of Vodafone's Greek switches, created parallel
streams of digitized voice for the tapped phone calls. One stream was
the ordinary one, between the two calling parties. The other stream, an
exact copy, was directed to other cellphones, allowing the tappers to
listen in on the conversations on the cellphones, and probably also to
record them. The software also routed location and other information
about those phone calls to these shadow handsets via automated text
messages.

Five weeks after the first messaging failures, on 4 March 2005, Ericsson
alerted Vodafone that unauthorized software had been installed in two of
Vodafone's central offices. Three days later, Vodafone technicians
isolated the rogue code. The next day, 8 March, the CEO of Vodafone
Greece, Giorgos Koronias, ordered technicians to remove the software.

Then events took a deadly turn. On 9 March, Tsalikidis, who was to be
married in three months, was found hanged in his apartment. No one knows
whether his apparent suicide was related to the case, but many observers
have speculated that it was.

The day after Tsalikidis's body was discovered, CEO Koronias met with
the director of the Greek prime minister's political office. Yiannis
Angelou, and the minister of public order, Giorgos Voulgarakis. Koronias
told them that rogue software used the lawful wiretapping mechanisms of
Vodafone's digital switches to tap about 100 phones and handed over a
list of bugged numbers. Besides the prime minister and his wife, phones
belonging to the ministers of national defense, foreign affairs, and
justice, the mayor of Athens, and the Greek European Union commissioner
were all compromised. Others belonged to members of civil rights
organizations, peace activists, and antiglobalization groups; senior
staff at the ministries of National Defense, Public Order, Merchant
Marine, and Foreign Affairs; the New Democracy ruling party; the
Hellenic Navy general staff; and a Greek-American employee at the United
States Embassy in Athens.

Within weeks of the initial discovery of the tapping scheme, Greek
government and independent authorities launched five different
investigations aimed at answering three main questions: Who was
responsible for the bugging? Was Tsalikidis's death related to the
scandal? And how did the perpetrators pull off this audacious scheme?

**To understand how** someone could secretly listen to the conversations
of Greece's most senior officials, we have to look at the infrastructure
that makes it possible.

First, consider how a phone call, yours or a prime minister's, gets
completed. Long before you dial a number on your handset, your cellphone
has been communicating with nearby cellular base stations. One of those
stations, usually the nearest, has agreed to be the intermediary between
your phone and the network as a whole. Your telephone handset converts
your words into a stream of digital data that is sent to a transceiver
at the base station.

[![cell phone system illustration](/image/636009)](/image/636009)

 

Illustration: Bryan Christie Design

The base station's activities are governed by a base station controller,
a special-purpose computer within the station that allocates radio
channels and helps coordinate handovers between the transceivers under
its control.

This controller in turn communicates with a mobile switching center that
takes phone calls and connects them to call recipients within the same
switching center, other switching centers within the company, or special
exchanges that act as gateways to foreign networks, routing calls to
other telephone networks (mobile or landline). The mobile switching
centers are particularly important to the Athens affair because they
hosted the rogue phone-tapping software, and it is there that the
eavesdropping originated. They were the logical choice, because they are
at the heart of the network; the intruders needed to take over only a
few of them in order to carry out their attack.

Both the base station controllers and the switching centers are built
around a large computer, known as a switch, capable of creating a
dedicated communications path between a phone within its network and, in
principle, any other phone in the world. Switches are holdovers from the
1970s, an era when powerful computers filled rooms and were built around
proprietary hardware and software. Though these computers are smaller
nowadays, the system's basic architecture remains largely unchanged.

Like most phone companies, Vodafone Greece uses the same kind of
computer for both its mobile switching centers and its base station
controllers—Ericsson's AXE line of switches. A central processor
coordinates the switch's operations and directs the switch to set up a
speech or data path from one phone to another and then routes a call
through it. Logs of network activity and billing records are stored on
disk by a separate unit, called a management processor.

The key to understanding the hack at the heart of the Athens affair is
knowing how the Ericsson AXE allows lawful intercepts—what are popularly
called “wiretaps.” Though the details differ from country to country, in
Greece, as in most places, the process starts when a law enforcement
official goes to a court and obtains a warrant, which is then presented
to the phone company whose customer is to be tapped.

Nowadays, all wiretaps are carried out at the central office. In AXE
exchanges a remote-control equipment subsystem, or RES, carries out the
phone tap by monitoring the speech and data streams of switched calls.
It is a software subsystem typically used for setting up wiretaps, which
only law officers are supposed to have access to. When the wiretapped
phone makes a call, the RES copies the conversation into a second data
stream and diverts that copy to a phone line used by law enforcement
officials.

Ericsson optionally provides an interception management system (IMS),
through which lawful call intercepts are set up and managed. When a
court order is presented to the phone company, its operators initiate an
intercept by filling out a dialog box in the IMS software. The optional
IMS in the operator interface and the RES in the exchange each contain a
list of wiretaps: wiretap requests in the case of the IMS, actual taps
in the RES. Only IMS-initiated wiretaps should be active in the RES, so
a wiretap in the RES without a request for a tap in the IMS is a pretty
good indicator that an unauthorized tap has occurred. An audit procedure
can be used to find any discrepancies between them.

It turns out Vodafone had not purchased the lawful intercept option at
the time of the illegal wiretaps, and the IMS phone-tapping management
software was not installed on Vodafone's systems. But in early 2003,
Vodafone technicians upgraded the Greek switches to release R9.1 of the
AXE software suite. That upgrade included the RES software, according to
a letter from Ericsson that accompanied the upgrade. So after the
upgrade, the Vodafone system contained the software code necessary to
intercept calls using the RES, even though it lacked the high-level user
interface in the IMS normally used to facilitate such intercepts.

That odd circumstance would turn out to play a role in letting the
Athens hackers illegally listen in on calls and yet escape detection for
months and months.

**It took guile** and some serious programming chops to manipulate the
lawful call-intercept functions in Vodafone's mobile switching centers.
The intruders' task was particularly complicated because they needed to
install and operate the wiretapping software on the exchanges without
being detected by Vodafone or Ericsson system administrators. From time
to time the intruders needed access to the rogue software to update the
lists of monitored numbers and shadow phones. These activities had to be
kept off all logs, while the software itself had to be invisible to the
system administrators conducting routine maintenance activities. The
intruders achieved all these objectives.

They took advantage of the fact that the AXE allows new software to be
installed without rebooting the system, an important feature when any
interruption would disconnect phone calls, lose text messages, and
render emergency services unreachable. To let an AXE exchange run
continuously for decades, as many of them do, Ericsson's software uses
several techniques for handling failures and upgrading an exchange's
software without suspending its operation. These techniques allow the
direct patching of code loaded in the central processor, in effect
altering the operating system on the fly.

Modern GSM systems, such as Vodafone's, secure the wireless links with a
sophisticated encryption mechanism. A call to another cellphone will be
re-encrypted between the remote cellphone and its closest base station,
but it is not protected while it transits the provider's core network.
For this reason—and for the ease of monitoring calls from the comfort of
their lair—the perpetrators of the Vodafone wiretaps attacked the core
switches of the Vodafone network. Encrypting communications from the
start of the chain to its end—as banks, for example, do—makes it very
difficult to implement legal wiretaps.

To simplify software maintenance, the AXE has detailed rules for
directly patching software running on its central processor. The AXE's
existing code is structured around independent blocks, or program
modules, which are stored in the central processor's memory. The release
being used in 2004 consisted of about 1760 blocks. Each contains a small
“correction area,” used whenever software is updated with a patch.

Let's say you're patching in code to force the computer to do a new
function, Z, in situations where it has been doing a different function,
Y. So, for example, where the original software had an instruction, “If
X, then do Y” the patched software says, in effect, “If X, then go to
the correction area location L.” The software goes to location L and
executes the instructions it finds there, that is, Z. In other words, a
software patch works by replacing an instruction at the area of the code
to be fixed with an instruction that diverts the program to a memory
location in the correction area containing the new version of the code.

The challenge faced by the intruders was to use the RES's capabilities
to duplicate and divert the bits of a call stream without using the
dialog-box interface to the IMS, which would create auditable logs of
their activities. The intruders pulled this off by installing a series
of patches to 29 separate blocks of code, according to Ericsson
officials who testified before the Greek parliamentary committee that
investigated the wiretaps. This rogue software modified the central
processor's software to directly initiate a wiretap, using the RES's
capabilities. Best of all, for them, the taps were not visible to the
operators, because the IMS and its user interface weren't used.

The full version of the software would have recorded the phone numbers
being tapped in an official registry within the exchange. And, as we
noted, an audit could then find a discrepancy between the numbers
monitored by the exchange and the warrants active in the IMS. But the
rogue software bypassed the IMS. Instead, it cleverly stored the bugged
numbers in two data areas that were part of the rogue software's own
memory space, which was within the switch's memory but isolated and not
made known to the rest of the switch.

That by itself put the rogue software a long way toward escaping
detection. But the perpetrators hid their own tracks in a number of
other ways as well. There were a variety of circumstances by which
Vodafone technicians could have discovered the alterations to the AXE's
software blocks. For example, they could have taken a listing of all the
blocks, which would show all the active processes running within the
AXE—similar to the task manager output in Microsoft Windows or the
process status (ps) output in Unix. They then would have seen that some
processes were active, though they shouldn't have been. But the rogue
software apparently modified the commands that list the active blocks in
a way that omitted certain blocks—the ones that related to
intercepts—from any such listing.

> **THE ROGUE SOFTWARE STORED BUGGED PHONE NUMBERS   
> IN ITS OWN MEMORY SPACE **

In addition, the rogue software might have been discovered during a
software upgrade or even when Vodafone technicians installed a minor
patch. It is standard practice in the telecommunications industry for
technicians to verify the existing block contents before performing an
upgrade or patch. We don't know why the rogue software was not detected
in this way, but we suspect that the software also modified the
operation of the command used to print the checksums—codes that create a
kind of signature against which the integrity of the existing blocks can
be validated. One way or another, the blocks appeared unaltered to the
operators.

Finally, the software included a back door to allow the perpetrators to
control it in the future. This, too, was cleverly constructed to avoid
detection. A report by the Hellenic Authority for the Information and
Communication Security and Privacy (the Greek abbreviation is ADAE)
indicates that the rogue software modified the exchange's command
parser—a routine that accepts commands from a person with system
administrator status—so that innocuous commands followed by six spaces
would deactivate the exchange's transaction log and the alarm associated
with its deactivation, and allow the execution of commands associated
with the lawful interception subsystem. In effect, it was a signal to
allow operations associated with the wiretaps but leave no trace of
them. It also added a new user name and password to the system, which
could be used to obtain access to the exchange.

Software that not only alters operating system code but also hides its
tracks is called a “rootkit.” The term is known to the public—if at
all—because of one that the record label Sony BMG Music Entertainment
included on some music CDs released in 2005. The Sony rootkit restricted
copying of CDs; it burrowed into the Windows operating system on PCs and
then hid its existence from the owner. (Sony stopped using rootkits
because of a general public outcry.) Security experts have also
discovered other rootkits for general-purpose operating systems, such as
Linux, Windows, and Solaris, but to our knowledge this is the first time
a rootkit has been observed on a special-purpose system, in this case an
Ericsson telephone switch.

**With all of this sophisticated** subterfuge, how then was the rogue
software finally discovered? On 24 January 2005, the perpetrators
updated their planted software. That upgrade interfered with the
forwarding of text messages, which went undelivered. These undelivered
text messages, in turn, triggered an automated failure report.

At this point, the hackers' abilities to keep their modifications to the
switch's AXE software suite secret met their limits, as it's almost
impossible to hide secrets in somebody else's system.

The AXE, like most large software systems, logs all manner of network
activity. System administrators can review the log files, and any events
they can't account for as ordinary usage can be investigated.

It's impossible to overstate the importance of logging. For example, in
the 1986 Cuckoo's Egg intrusion, the wily network administrator,
Clifford Stoll, was asked to investigate a 75 U.S. cents accounting
error. Stoll spent 10 months looking for the hacker, who had penetrated
deep into the networks of Lawrence Livermore National Laboratory, a U.S.
nuclear weapons lab in California. Much of that time he spent poring
over thousands of log report pages.

The AXE, like most sophisticated systems nowadays, can help operators
find the nuggets of useful information within the voluminous logs it
generates. It is programmed to report anomalous activity on its own, in
the form of error or failure reports. In addition, at regular intervals
the switching center generates a snapshot of itself—a copy, or dump, of
all its programs and data.

Dumps are most commonly consulted for recovery and diagnostic purposes,
but they can be used in security investigations. So when Ericsson's
investigators were called in because of the undelivered text messages,
the first thing they did was look closely at the periodic dumps. They
found two areas containing all the phone numbers being monitored and
retrieved a list of them.

The investigators examined the dumps more thoroughly and found the rogue
programs. What they found though, was in the form of executable code—in
other words, code in the binary language that microprocessors directly
execute. Executable code is what results when a software compiler turns
source code—in the case of the AXE, programs written in the PLEX
language—into the binary machine code that a computer processor
executes. So the investigators painstakingly reconstructed an
approximation of the original PLEX source files that the intruders
developed. It turned out to be the equivalent of about 6500 lines of
code, a surprisingly substantial piece of software.

The investigators ran the modules in simulated environments to better
understand their behavior. The result of all this investigative effort
was the discovery of the data areas holding the tapped numbers and the
time stamps of recent intercepts.

With this information on hand, the investigators could go back and look
at earlier dumps to establish the time interval during which the
wiretaps were in effect and to get the full list of intercepted numbers
and call data for the tapped conversations—who called whom, when, and
for how long. (The actual conversations were not stored in the logs.)

While the hack was complex, the taps themselves were straightforward.
When the prime minister, for example, initiated or received a call on
his cellphone, the exchange would establish the same kind of connection
used in a lawful wiretap—a connection to a shadow number allowing it to
listen in on the conversation.

Creating the rogue software so that it would remain undetected required
a lot of expertise in writing AXE code, an esoteric competency that
isn't readily available in most places. But as it happens, for the past
15 years, a considerable part of Ericsson's software development for the
AXE has been done under contract by a Greek company based in Athens,
Intracom Telecom, part of Intracom Holdings. The necessary know-how was
available locally and was spread over a large number of present and past
Intracom developers. So could this have been an inside job?

The early stages of the infiltration would have been much easier to pull
off with the assistance of someone inside Vodafone, but there is no
conclusive evidence to support that scenario. The infiltration could
have been carried out remotely and, indeed, according to a state report,
in the case of the failed text messages where the exact time of the
event is known, the last person to access the exchange had been issued a
visitor's badge.

Similarly, we may never know whether Tsalikidis had anything to do with
the wiretaps. Many observers have found the timing of his death highly
suggestive, but to this day no connection has been uncovered. Nor can
observers do more than speculate as to the motives of the infiltrators.
\[See the sidebar, “[An Inside Job?](#)” for a summary of the leading
speculation; we can neither endorse nor refute the theories presented.\]

Just as we cannot now know for certain who was behind the Athens affair
or what their motives were, we can only speculate about various
approaches that the intruders may have followed to carry out their
attack. That's because key material has been lost or was never
collected. For instance, in July 2005, while the investigation was
taking place, Vodafone upgraded two of the three servers used for
accessing the exchange management system. This upgrade wiped out the
access logs and, contrary to company policy, no backups were retained.
Some time later a six-month retention period for visitor sign-in books
lapsed, and Vodafone destroyed the books corresponding to the period
where the rogue software was modified, triggering the text-message
errors.

Traces of the rogue software installation might have been recorded on
the exchange's transaction logs. However, due to a paucity of storage
space in the exchange's management systems, the logs were retained for
only five days, because Vodafone considers billing data, which competes
for the same space, a lot more important. Most crucially, Vodafone's
deactivation of the rogue software on 7 March 2005 almost certainly
alerted the conspirators, giving them a chance to switch off the shadow
phones. As a result investigators missed the opportunity of
triangulating the location of the shadow phones and catching the
perpetrators in the act.

**So what can this affair** teach us about how to protect phone
networks?

Once the infiltration was discovered, Vodafone had to balance the need
for the continued operation of the network with the discovery and
prosecution of the guilty parties. Unfortunately, the responses of
Vodafone and that of Greek law enforcement were both inadequate. Through
Vodafone's actions, critical data were lost or destroyed, while the
perpetrators not only received a warning that their scheme had been
discovered but also had sufficient time to disappear.

In the telecommunications industry, prevailing best practices require
that the operator's policies include procedures for responding to an
infiltration, such as a virus attack: retain all data, isolate the part
of the system that's been broken into as much as possible, coordinate
activities with law enforcement.

Greek federal telecom regulations also specify that operators have
security policies that detail the measures they will take to ensure the
confidentiality of customer communications and the privacy of network
users. However, Vodafone's response indicates that such policies, if
they existed, were ignored. If not for press conferences and public
investigations, law enforcement could have watched the behavior of the
shadow cellphones surreptitiously. Physical logbooks of visitors were
lost and data logs were destroyed. In addition, neither law enforcement
authorities nor the ADAE, the independent security and privacy
authority, was contacted directly. Instead, Vodafone Greece communicated
through a political channel—the prime minister's office. It should be
noted the ADAE was a fairly new organization at the time, formed in
2003.

The response of Greek law enforcement officials also left a lot to be
desired. Police could have secured evidence by impounding all of
Vodafone's telecommunications and computer equipment involved in the
incident. Instead it appears that concerns about disruption to the
operation of the mobile telephone network led the authorities to take a
more light-handed approach—essentially interviewing employees and
collecting information provided by Vodafone—that ultimately led to the
loss of forensic evidence. They eventually started leveling accusations
at both the operator (Vodafone) and the vendor (Ericsson), turning the
victims into defendants and losing their good will, which further
hampered their investigation.

Of course, in countries where such high-tech crimes are rare, it is
unreasonable to expect to find a crack team of investigators. Could a
rapid deployment force be set up to handle such high-profile and highly
technical incidents? We'd like to see the international police
organization Interpol create a cyberforensics response team that
countries could call on to handle such incidents.

> **PHYSICAL LOGBOOKS OF VISITORS WERE LOST AND   
> DATA LOGS WERE DESTROYED **

Telephone exchanges have evolved over the decades into software-based
systems, and therefore the task of analyzing them for vulnerabilities
has become very difficult. Even as new software features, such as
conferencing, number portability, and caller identification, have been
loaded onto the exchanges, the old software remains in place. Complex
interactions between subsystems and baroque coding styles (some of them
remnants of programs written 20 or 30 years ago) confound developers and
auditors alike.

Yet an effective defense against viruses, worms, and rootkits depends
crucially on in-depth analysis that can penetrate source code in all its
baroque heterogeneity. For example, a statistical analysis of the call
logs might have revealed a correlation between the calls to the shadow
numbers and calls to the monitored numbers. Telephone companies already
carry out extensive analysis on these sorts of data to spot customer
trends. But from the security perspective, this analysis is done for the
wrong reasons and by the wrong people—marketing as opposed to security.
By training security personnel to use these tools and allowing them
access to these data, customer trend analysis can become an effective
countermeasure against rogue software.

Additional clues could be uncovered by merging call records generated by
the exchange with billing and accounting information. Doing so, though,
involves consolidating distinct data sets currently owned by different
entities within the telecom organization.

Another defense is regular auditing of the type that allowed Ericsson to
discover the rogue software by scrutinizing the off-line dumps. However,
in this case, as well as in the data analysis case, we have to be sure
that any rogue software cannot modify the information stored in the logs
or the dumps, such as by using a separate monitoring computer running
its own software.

Digital systems generate enormous volumes of information. Ericsson and
Vodafone Greece had at their fingertips all the information they needed
to discover the penetration of Vodafone's network long before an
undelivered text message sent them looking. As in other industries, the
challenge now is to come up with ways to use this information. If one
company's technicians and one country's police force cannot meet this
challenge, a response team that can needs to be created.

It is particularly important not to turn the investigation into a witch
hunt. Especially in cases where the perpetrators are unlikely to be
identified, it is often politically expedient to use the telecom
operator as a convenient scapegoat. This only encourages operators and
their employees to brush incidents under the carpet, and turns them into
adversaries of law enforcement. Rather than looking for someone to blame
(and punish), it is far better to determine exactly what went wrong and
how it can be fixed, not only for that particular operator, but for the
industry as a whole.

Merely saying—or even legislating—that system vendors and network
operators should not allow something like this to occur is pointless,
because there is little that can be done to these companies after the
fact. Instead, proactive measures should be taken to ensure that such
systems are developed and operated safely. Perhaps we can borrow a few
pages from aviation safety, where both aircraft manufacturers and
airline companies are closely monitored by national and international
agencies to ensure the safety of airline passengers.

## About the Author

VASSILIS PREVELAKIS, an IEEE member, is an assistant professor of
computer science at Drexel University, in Philadelphia. Hiscurrent
research is on automation network security and secure software design.
He has published widely in these areas and is actively involved in
standards bodies such as the Internet Engineering Task Force.

DIOMIDIS SPINELLIS, an IEEE member, is an associate professor in the
department of management science and technology at the Athens University
of Economics and Business and the author of Code Quality: The Open
Source Perspective (Addison-Wesley, 2006). He blogs at
<http://www.spinellis.gr/blog>.

## To Probe Further

The Wikipedia article
<http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Greek_telephone_tapping_case_2004-2005>
contains additional links to press stories and background material.

Ericsson's Interception Management System user manual (marked
confidential) is available on the Web through a Google search:
<http://www.google.com/search?q=IMS+ericsson+manual> or at
<http://cryptome.org/ericsson-ims.htm>.

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