Digital Fortress Chapter 94-99

Chapter 94Midge Milken s as well asd fuming at the water cooler near the entrance to the conference path. What the hell is Fontaine doing? She crumpled her paper cup and threw it forcefully into the throw a look can. Theres both(prenominal)thing happening in Crypto I can feel it Midge knew thither was entirely one way to prove herself right. Shed go check appear Crypto herself-track down Jabba if pauperisation be. She spun on her heel and headed for the door.Brinkerh rancid appeared come out of the closet of presentlyhere, blocking her way. Where are you headed?Home Midge lied.Brinkerhoff refused to let her pass.Midge glared. Fontaine told you not to let me out, didnt he?Brinkerhoff looked away.Chad, Im telling you, at that places something happening in Crypto-something big. I dont live why Fontaines playing dumb, but TRANSLTRs in trouble. Something is not right down there tonightMidge, he soothed, walking past her toward the curtained conference room windowpanes, lets let the director handle it.Midges gaze sharpened. Do you rich person any idea what happens to TRANSLTR if the cooling system fails?Brinkerhoff shrugged and approached the window. Powers probably back on-line by now anyway. He pulled apart the curtains and looked.Still dark? Midge asked.But Brinkerhoff did not reply. He was spellbound. The scene below in the Crypto dome was unimaginable. The entire glass cupola was filled with spin around lights, flashing strobes, and swirling steam. Brinkerhoff stood transfixed, teetering light-headed against the glass. Then, in a frenzy of panic, he raced out. Director DirectorChapter 95The blood of Christ the cup of salvationPeople self-possessed around the slumped body in the pew. Overhead, the frankincense swung its peaceful arcs. Hulohot wheeled wildly in the center aisle and scanned the church. Hes got to be here He spun back toward the altar. xxx rows ahead, holy communion was proceeding uninterrupted. Padre Gustaphes Herrera, the head chalice bearer, glanced curiously at the quiet commotion in one of the center pews he was not concerned. Some beats some of the older folks were overcome by the holy spirit and passed out. A little air usually did the trick.Meanwhile, Hulohot was searching frantically. Becker was nowhere in sight. A hundred or so people were kneeling at the long altar receiving communion. Hulohot wondered if Becker was one of them. He scanned their backs. He was prepared to shoot from cubic decimetre yards away and make a dash for it.El cuerpo de Jesus, el pan del cielo.The young priest serving Becker communion gave him a disapproving stare. He could make the strangers eagerness to receive communion, but it was no excuse to cut inline.Becker bowed his head and chewed the wafer as best he could. He sensed something was happening lavatory him, some sort of disturbance. He thought of the man from whom hed bought the jacket and hoped he had listened to his warning and not taken Beckers in exchange. He start ed to turn and look, but he feared the wire-rim glasses would be staring back. He crouched in hopes his black jacket was covering the back of his khaki pants. It was not.The chalice was coming quickly from his right. People were already swallowing their wine, crossing themselves, and standing to leave. Slow down Becker was in no hurry to leave the altar. But with two thousand people waiting for communion and only eight priests serving, it was considered bad form to linger over a sip of wine.The chalice was notwithstanding to the right of Becker when Hulohot spotted the mismatched khaki pants. Estas ya muerto, he hissed softly. Youre already dead. Hulohot moved up the center aisle. The condemnation for subtlety had passed. Two scapes in the back, and he would grab the ring and run. The biggest taxi stand in Seville was half a block away on Mateus Gago. He reached for his weapon.Adios, Senor BeckerLa sangre de Cristo, la copa de la salvacion.The thick scent of red wine filled Becke rs nostrils as Padre Herrera lower the hand-polished, silver chalice. Little early for drinking, Becker thought as he leaned forward. But as the silver goblet dropped past eye level, there was a veil of movement. A figure, coming fast, his shape warped in the reflection of the cup.Becker saw a flash of metal, a weapon being drawn. Instantly, unconsciously, worry a runner from a starting block at the sound of a munition, Becker was vaulting forward. The priest fell back in horror as the chalice sailed with the air, and red wine rained down on white marble. Priests and altar boys went scattering as Becker dove over the communion rail. A silencer coughed out a single shot. Becker landed bad, and the shot exploded in the marble floor beside him. An instant later he was tumbling down three granite stairs into the valle, a narrow passageway through which the clergy entered, allowing them to rise onto the altar as if by divine grace.At the bottom of the steps, he stumbled and dove. B ecker felt himself sliding out of take care across the slick polished stone. A dagger of pain shot though his gut as he landed on his side. A arcminute later he was stumbling through a curtained entryway and down a set of wooden stairs.Pain. Becker was running, through a dressing room. It was dark. There were screams from the altar. audacious footsteps in pursuit. Becker burst through a set of double doors and stumbled into some sort of study. It was dark, furnished with rich Orientals and polished mahogany. On the far wall was a life-size crucifix. Becker staggered to a stop. Dead end. He was at the tip of the cross. He could hear Hulohot closing fast. Becker stared at the crucifix and cursed his bad luck.Goddamn it he screamed.There was the sudden sound of breaking glass to Beckers left. He wheeled. A man in red robes gasped and turned to eye Becker in horror. Like a cat caught with a canary, the holy man wiped his mouth and tried to hide the broken bottle of holy communion win e at his feet.Salida Becker demanded. Salida Let me outCardinal Guerra reacted on instinct. A demon had entered his sacred chambers screaming for deliverance from the house of God. Guerra would grant him that wish-immediately. The demon had entered at a most wrong moment.Pale, the important pointed to a curtain on the wall to his left. Hidden behind the curtain was a door. Hed installed it three years ago. It led directly to the courtyard outside. The cardinal had grown tired of exiting the church through the front door like a common sinner.Chapter 96Susan was wet and shivering, huddled on the Node 3 couch. Strathmore draped his suit coat over her shoulders. Hales body lay a few yards away. The sirens blared. Like ice thawing on a frozen pond, TRANSLTRs take let out a sharp crack.Im going down to kill power, Strathmore said, laying a reassuring hand on her shoulder. Ill be right back.Susan stared absentmindedly after the commander as he dashed across the Crypto floor. He was no longer the catatonic man shed seen ten minutes onward. Commander Trevor Strathmore was back-logical, controlled, doing some(prenominal) was necessary to procure the job done.The final words of Hales suicide note ran through her mind like a train out of control to a higher place all, Im truly sorry about David Becker. Forgive me, I was blinded by ambition.Susan Fletchers nightmare had just been confirmed. David was in danger or worse. Maybe it was already too late. Im truly sorry about David Becker.She stared at the note. Hale hadnt even signed it-hed just typed his name at the bottom Greg Hale. Hed poured out his guts, pressed print, and then shot himself-just like that. Hale had sworn hed never go back to prison hed kept his vow-hed chosen expiration instead.David She sobbed. DavidAt that moment, ten feet below the Crypto floor, Commander Strathmore stepped off the ladder onto the starting line landing. It had been a day of fiascoes. What had started out as a patriotic missio n had swerved wildly out of control. The commander had been forced to make impractical decisions, commit horrific acts-acts hed never imagined himself capable of.It was a solution It was the only damn solutionThere was duty to think of country and honor. Strathmore knew there was compose time. He could shut down TRANSLTR. He could use the ring to save the countrys most valuable databank. Yes, he thought, there was still time.Strathmore looked out over the contingency around him. The overhead sprinklers were on. TRANSLTR was groaning. The sirens blared. The spinning lights looked like helicopters closing in through dense fog. With every step, all he could see was Greg Hale-the young cryptographer gazing up, his eye pleading, and then, the shot. Hales death was for country for honor. The NSA could not afford an otherwise scandal. Strathmore needed a scapegoat. Besides, Greg Hale was a disaster waiting to happen.Strathmores thoughts were jarred free by the sound of his cellular. It was besides audible over the sirens and hissing fumes. He snatched it off his belt without breaking stride.Speak.Wheres my pass-key? a familiar voice demanded.Who is this? Strathmore yelled over the din.Its Numataka the angry voice bellowed back. You promised me a pass-keyStrathmore kept moving.I want Digital Fortress Numataka hissed.There is no Digital Fortress Strathmore shot back.What?There is no unbreakable algorithmOf argument there is Ive seen it on the Internet My people have been trying to unlock it for daysIts an encrypted virus, you fool-and youre damn lucky you cant open itBut-The deal is off Strathmore yelled. Im not atomic number 7 Dakota. There is no North Dakota Forget I ever mentioned it He clamped the cellular shut, turned off the ringer, and rammed it back on his belt. There would be no more interruptions.Twelve thousand miles away, Tokugen Numataka stood stunned at his plate-glass window. His Umami cigar hung limply in his mouth. The deal of his lifetime had ju st disintegrated before his eyes.Strathmore kept descending. The deal is off. Numatech Corp. would never get the unbreakable algorithm and the NSA would never get its back door.Strathmores dream had been a long time in the planning-hed chosen Numatech carefully. Numatech was wealthy, a likely winner of the pass-key auction. No one would think twice if it ended up with the key. Conveniently there was no company less likely to be suspected of consorting with the U.S. government. Tokugen Numataka was old-world Japan-death before dishonor. He hated Americans. He hated their food, he hated their customs, and most of all, he hated their grip on the worlds software market.Strathmores vision had been bold-a world encoding standard with a back door for the NSA. Hed longed to share his dream with Susan, to carry it out with her by his side, but he knew he could not. Even though Ensei Tankados death would save thousands of lives in the future, Susan would never have agreed she was a pacifist. Im a pacifist too, thought Strathmore, I just dont have the luxury of acting like one.There had never been any doubt in the commanders mind who would kill Tankado. Tankado was in Spain-and Spain meant Hulohot. The forty-two-year-old Portuguese mercenary was one of the commanders favorite pros. Hed been working for the NSA for years. Born and embossed in Lisbon, Hulohot had done work for the NSA all over Europe. Never once had his kills been traced back to Fort Meade. The only catch was that Hulohot was deaf tele shout communication was impossible. recently Strathmore had arranged for Hulohot to receive the NSAs newest toy, the Monocle computer. Strathmore bought himself a SkyPager and programmed it to the same frequency. From that moment on, his communication with Hulohot was not only instantaneous but also entirely untraceable.The first kernel Strathmore had sent Hulohot left little room for misunderstanding. They had already discussed it. Kill Ensei Tankado. Obtain pass-key.St rathmore never asked how Hulohot worked his magic, but somehow he had done it again. Ensei Tankado was dead, and the authorities were convinced it was a heart attack. A textbook kill-except for one thing. Hulohot had misjudged the location. Apparently Tankado dying in a commonplace place was a necessary part of the illusion. But unexpectedly, the public had appeared too soon. Hulohot was forced into hiding before he could search the body for the pass-key. When the dust settled, Tankados body was in the hands of Sevilles coroner.Strathmore was furious. Hulohot had blown a mission for the first time ever-and hed picked an inauspicious time to do it. Getting Tankados pass-key was critical, but Strathmore knew that sending a deaf assassin into the Seville morgue was a suicide mission. He had pondered his other options. A second scheme began to materialize. Strathmore suddenly saw a chance to win on two fronts-a chance to realize two dreams instead of just one. At six-thirty that mornin g, he had called David Becker.Chapter 97Fontaine burst into the conference room at a full sprint. Brinkerhoff and Midge were close at his heels.Look Midge choked, motioning frantically to the window.Fontaine looked out the window at the strobes in the Crypto dome. His eyes went wide. This was definitely not part of the plan.Brinkerhoff sputtered. Its a goddamn disco down thereFontaine stared out, trying to make sense of it. In the few years TRANSLTR had been operational, it had never done this. Its overheating, he thought. He wondered why the hell Strathmore hadnt shut it down. It took Fontaine only an instant to make up his mind.He snatched an interoffice phone off the conference table and punched the extension for Crypto. The receiver began beeping as if the extension were out of order.Fontaine slammed down the receiver. Damn it He immediately picked up again and dialed Strathmores clubby cellular line. This time the line began to ring.Six rings went by.Brinkerhoff and Midge watc hed as Fontaine paced the length of his phone cable like a tiger on a chain. aft(prenominal) a full minute, Fontaine was crimson with rage.He slammed down the receiver again. Unbelievable he bellowed. Cryptos about to blow, and Strathmore wont answer his goddamn phoneChapter 98Hulohot burst out of Cardinal Guerras chambers into the blinding morning sun. He shielded his eyes and cursed. He was standing outside the cathedral in a small patio, contact by a high stone wall, the west face of the Giralda tower, and two wrought-iron fences. The gate was open. Outside the gate was the square. It was empty. The walls of Santa Cruz were in the distance. There was no way Becker could have made it so far so quickly. Hulohot turned and scanned the patio. Hes in here. He must beThe patio, Jardin de los Naranjos, was famous in Seville for its twenty blossoming orange trees. The trees were notable in Seville as the birthplace of English marmalade. An eighteenth-century English trader had purchas ed three dozen bushels of oranges from the Seville church and taken them back to London only to find the reaping inedibly bitter. He tried to make jam from the rinds and ended up having to add pounds of sugar just to make it palatable. Orange marmalade had been born.Hulohot moved forward through the grove, gun leveled. The trees were old, and the foliage had moved high on their trunks. Their lowest branches were unreachable, and the thin bases provided no cover. Hulohot quickly saw the patio was empty. He looked straight up. The Giralda.The entrance to the Giraldas spiral staircase was cordoned off by a rope and small wooden sign. The rope hung motionless. Hulohots eyes climbed the 419-foot tower and immediately knew it was a ridiculous thought. There was no way Becker would have been that stupid. The single staircase wound straight up to a square stone cubicle. There were narrow slits in the wall for viewing, but there was no way out.David Becker climbed the last of the steep sta irs and staggered breathless into a tiny stone cubicle. There were high walls all around him and narrow slits in the perimeter. No exit.Fate had done Becker no favors this morning. As hed dashed from the cathedral into the open courtyard, his jacket had caught on the door. The fabric had stopped him mid stride and swung him hard left before tearing. Becker was suddenly stumbling off balance into the blinding sun. When hed looked up, he was heading straight for a staircase. Hed jumped over the rope and dashed up. By the time he realized where it led, it was too late.Now he stood in the confined cell and caught his breath. His side burned. Narrow slats of morning sun streamed through the openings in the wall. He looked out. The man in the wire-rim glasses was far below, his back to Becker, staring out at the plaza. Becker shifted his body in front of the crack for a better view. stigma the plaza, he willed him.The shadow of the Giralda lay across the square like a giant felled sequoi a. Hulohot stared the length of it. At the far end, three slits of light cut through the towers viewing apertures and fell in crisp rectangles on the cobblestone below. One of those rectangles had just been blotted out by the shadow of a man. Without so much as a glance toward the top of the tower, Hulohot spun and dashed toward the Giralda stairs.Chapter 99Fontaine pounded his fist into his hand. He paced the conference room and stared out at the spinning Crypto lights. terminate Goddamn it AbortMidge appeared in the doorway waving a fresh readout. Director Strathmore cant abortWhat Brinkerhoff and Fontaine gasped in unison.He tried, sir Midge held up the report. Four times already TRANSLTRs locked in some sort of endless loop.Fontaine spun and stared back out the window. Jesus ChristThe conference room phone rang sharply. The director threw up his arms. Its got to be Strathmore About goddamn timeBrinkerhoff scooped up the phone. Directors office.Fontaine held out his hand for the receiver.Brinkerhoff looked uneasy and turned to Midge. Its Jabba. He wants you.The director swung his gaze over to Midge, who was already crossing the room. She activated the speaker phone. Go ahead, Jabba.Jabbas metal(prenominal) voice boomed into the room. Midge, Im in the main databank. Were showing some strange stuff down here. I was wondering if-Dammit, Jabba Midge came unglued. Thats what Ive been trying to tell youIt could be nothing, Jabba hedged, but-Stop proverb that Its not nothing Whatevers going on down there, take it seriously, very seriously. My data isnt fried-never has been, never will. She started to hang up and then added, Oh, and Jabba? Just so there arent any surprises Strathmore bypassed Gauntlet.