Digital Fortress Part 37

"G.o.dd.a.m.n it!" he screamed.

There was the sudden sound of breaking gla.s.s to Becker'sleft. He wheeled. A man in red robes gasped and turned to eyeBecker in horror. Like a cat caught with a canary, the holy manwiped his mouth and tried to hide the broken bottle of holycommunion wine at his feet.

"Salida!" Becker demanded. "Salida!"Let me out!

Cardinal Guerra reacted on instinct. A demon had entered hissacred chambers screaming for deliverance from the house of G.o.d.Guerra would grant him that wish- immediately. The demon hadentered at a most inopportune moment.

Pale, the cardinal pointed to a curtain on the wall to his left.Hidden behind the curtain was a door. He'd installed it threeyears ago. It led directly to the courtyard outside.

The cardinalhad grown tired of exiting the church through the front door like acommon sinner.

CHAPTER 96 Susan was wet and shivering, huddled on the Node 3 couch.Strathmore draped his suit coat over her shoulders. Hale'sbody lay a few yards away. The sirens blared. Like ice thawing on afrozen pond, TRANSLTR's hull let out a sharp crack.

"I'm going down to kill power," Strathmore said,laying a rea.s.suring hand on her shoulder. "I'll be rightback."

Susan stared absently after the commander as he dashed acrossthe Crypto floor. He was no longer the catatonic man she'dseen ten minutes before. Commander Trevor Strathmore wasback-logical, controlled, doing whatever was necessary to getthe job done.

The final words of Hale's suicide note ran through her mindlike a train out of control: Above all, I'm truly sorryabout David Becker. Forgive me, I was blinded by ambition.

Susan Fletcher's nightmare had just been confirmed. Davidwas in danger ... or worse. Maybe it was already too late. I'm truly sorry about David Becker.

She stared at the note. Hale hadn't even signedit-he'd just typed his name at the bottom: GregHale. He'd poured out his guts, pressed print, and thenshot himself- just like that. Hale had sworn he'd never goback to prison; he'd kept his vow-he'd chosen deathinstead.

"David ..." She sobbed. David!

At that moment, ten feet below the Crypto floor, CommanderStrathmore stepped off the ladder onto the first landing. It hadbeen a day of fiascoes. What had started out as a patriotic missionhad swerved wildly out of control. The commander had been forced tomake impossible decisions, commit horrific acts-acts he'dnever imagined himself capable of.

It was a solution! It was the only d.a.m.nsolution!

There was duty to think of: country and honor. Strathmore knewthere was still time.

He could shut down TRANSLTR. He could use thering to save the country's most valuable databank. Yes,he thought, there was still time.

Strathmore looked out over the disaster around him. The overheadsprinklers were on.

TRANSLTR was groaning. The sirens blared. Thespinning lights looked like helicopters closing in through densefog.With every step, all he could see was Greg Hale-the youngcryptographer gazing up, his eyes pleading, and then, the shot.Hale's death was for country ... for honor. The NSA couldnot afford another scandal.

Strathmore needed a scapegoat. Besides,Greg Hale was a disaster waiting to happen.

* * * Strathmore's thoughts were jarred free by the sound of hiscellular. It was barely audible over the sirens and hissing fumes.He s.n.a.t.c.hed it off his belt without breaking stride.

"Speak."

"Where's my pa.s.s-key?" a familiar voicedemanded.

"Who is this?" Strathmore yelled over the din.

"It's Numataka!" the angry voice bellowed back."You promised me a pa.s.s-key!"

Strathmore kept moving.

"I want Digital Fortress!" Numataka hissed.

"There is no Digital Fortress!" Strathmore s...o...b..ck.

"What?"

"There is no unbreakable algorithm!"

"Of course there is! I've seen it on the Internet! Mypeople have been trying to unlock it for days!"

"It's an encrypted virus, you fool-andyou're d.a.m.n lucky you can't open it!"

"But-"

"The deal is off!" Strathmore yelled. "I'mnot North Dakota. There is no North Dakota! Forget I evermentioned it!" He clamped the cellular shut, turned off theringer, and rammed it back on his belt. There would be no moreinterruptions.

Twelve thousand miles away, Tokugen Numataka stood stunned athis plate-gla.s.s window. His Umami cigar hung limply in his mouth.The deal of his lifetime had just disintegrated before hiseyes.

Strathmore kept descending. The deal is off. NumatechCorp. would never get the unbreakable algorithm ... and the NSAwould never get its back door.

Strathmore's dream had been a long time in theplanning-he'd chosen Numatech carefully. Numatech waswealthy, a likely winner of the pa.s.s-key auction. No one wouldthink twice if it ended up with the key. Conveniently there was nocompany less likely to be suspected of consorting with the U.S.government. Tokugen Numataka was old-world j.a.pan-death beforedishonor. He hated Americans. He hated their food, he hated theircustoms, and most of all, he hated their grip on the world'ssoftware market.

Strathmore's vision had been bold-a world encryptionstandard with a back door for the NSA. He'd longed to sharehis dream with Susan, to carry it out with her by his side, but heknew he could not. Even though Ensei Tankado's death wouldsave thousands of lives in the future, Susan would never haveagreed; she was a pacifist.

I'm a pacifist too, thoughtStrathmore, I just don't have the luxury of acting likeone.

There had never been any doubt in the commander's mind whowould kill Tankado.

Tankado was in Spain-and Spain meantHulohot. The forty-two-year-old Portuguese mercenary was one of thecommander's favorite pros. He'd been working for the NSAfor years. Born and raised in Lisbon, Hulohot had done work for theNSA all over Europe. Never once had his kills been traced back toFort Meade. The only catch was that Hulohot was deaf; telephonecommunication was impossible. Recently Strathmore had arranged forHulohot to receive the NSA's newest toy, the Monocle computer.Strathmore bought himself a SkyPager and programmed it to the samefrequency. From that moment on, his communication with Hulohot wasnot only instantaneous but also entirely untraceable.

The first message Strathmore had sent Hulohot left little roomfor misunderstanding.

They had already discussed it. Kill EnseiTankado. Obtain pa.s.s-key.

Strathmore never asked how Hulohot worked his magic, but somehowhe had done it again. Ensei Tankado was dead, and the authoritieswere convinced it was a heart attack. A textbook kill-exceptfor one thing. Hulohot had misjudged the location.

ApparentlyTankado dying in a public place was a necessary part of theillusion. But unexpectedly, the public had appeared too soon.Hulohot was forced into hiding before he could search the body forthe pa.s.s-key. When the dust settled, Tankado's body was in thehands of Seville's coroner.

Strathmore was furious. Hulohot had blown a mission for thefirst time ever-and he'd picked an inauspicious time todo it. Getting Tankado's pa.s.s-key was critical, but Strathmoreknew that sending a deaf a.s.sa.s.sin into the Seville morgue was asuicide mission. He had pondered his other options. A second schemebegan to materialize.

Strathmore suddenly saw a chance to win ontwo fronts-a chance to realize two dreams instead of just one.At six-thirty that morning, he had called David Becker.

CHAPTER 97 Fontaine burst into the conference room at a full sprint.Brinkerhoff and Midge were close at his heels.

"Look!" Midge choked, motioning frantically to thewindow.

Fontaine looked out the window at the strobes in the Cryptodome. His eyes went wide. This was definitely not part ofthe plan.

Brinkerhoff sputtered. "It's a G.o.dd.a.m.n disco downthere!"

Fontaine stared out, trying to make sense of it. In the fewyears TRANSLTR had been operational, it had never done this. It's overheating, he thought. He wondered why the h.e.l.lStrathmore hadn't shut it down. It took Fontaine only aninstant to make up his mind.

He s.n.a.t.c.hed an interoffice phone off the conference table andpunched the extension for Crypto. The receiver began beeping as ifthe extension were out of order.

Fontaine slammed down the receiver. "d.a.m.n it!" Heimmediately picked up again and dialed Strathmore's privatecellular line. This time the line began to ring.

Six rings went by.

Brinkerhoff and Midge watched as Fontaine paced the length ofhis phone cable like a tiger on a chain. After a full minute,Fontaine was crimson with rage.

He slammed down the receiver again. "Unbelievable!" hebellowed. "Crypto's about to blow, and Strathmorewon't answer his G.o.dd.a.m.n phone!"

CHAPTER 98

Hulohot burst out of Cardinal Guerra's chambers into theblinding morning sun. He shielded his eyes and cursed. He wa.s.standing outside the cathedral in a small patio, bordered by a highstone wall, the west face of the Giralda tower, and twowrought-iron fences. The gate was open. Outside the gate was thesquare. 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. He's in here. He mustbe!

The patio, Jardin de los Naranjos, was famous in Seville for itstwenty blossoming orange trees. The trees were renowned in Sevilleas the birthplace of English marmalade. An eighteenth-centuryEnglish trader had purchased three dozen bushels of oranges fromthe Seville church and taken them back to London only to find thefruit inedibly bitter. He tried to make jam from the rinds andended 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 treeswere old, and the foliage had moved high on their trunks. Theirlowest branches were unreachable, and the thin bases provided nocover. Hulohot quickly saw the patio was empty. He looked straightup. The Giralda.

The entrance to the Giralda's spiral staircase was cordonedoff by a rope and small wooden sign. The rope hung motionless.Hulohot's eyes climbed the 419-foot tower and immediately knewit was a ridiculous thought. There was no way Becker would havebeen that stupid. The single staircase wound straight up to asquare stone cubicle.

There were narrow slits in the wall forviewing, but there was no way out.

David Becker climbed the last of the steep stairs and staggeredbreathless into a tiny stone cubicle. There were high walls allaround him and narrow slits in the perimeter.

No exit.

Fate had done Becker no favors this morning. As he'd dashedfrom the cathedral into the open courtyard, his jacket had caughton the door. The fabric had stopped him midstride and swung himhard left before tearing. Becker was suddenly stumbling off balanceinto the blinding sun. When he'd looked up, he was headingstraight for a staircase. He'd jumped over the rope and dashedup. By the time he realized where it led, it was too late.

Now he stood in the confined cell and caught his breath. Hisside burned. Narrow slats of morning sun streamed through theopenings in the wall. He looked out. The man in the wire-rimgla.s.ses was far below, his back to Becker, staring out at theplaza. Becker shifted his body in front of the crack for a betterview. Cross the plaza, he willed him.

The shadow of the Giralda lay across the square like a giantfelled sequoia. Hulohot stared the length of it. At the far end,three slits of light cut through the tower's viewing aperturesand fell in crisp rectangles on the cobblestone below. One of thoserectangles had just been blotted out by the shadow of a man.Without so much as a glance toward the top of the tower, Hulohotspun and dashed toward the Giralda stairs.

CHAPTER 99 Fontaine pounded his fist into his hand. he paced the conferenceroom and stared out at the spinning Crypto lights. "Abort!G.o.dd.a.m.n it! Abort!"

Midge appeared in the doorway waving a fresh readout."Director! Strathmore can't abort!"

"What!" Brinkerhoff and Fontaine gasped in unison.

"He tried, sir!" Midge held up the report. "Fourtimes already! TRANSLTR's locked in some sort of endlessloop."

Fontaine spun and stared back out the window. "JesusChrist!"

The conference room phone rang sharply. The director threw uphis arms. "It's got to be Strathmore! About G.o.dd.a.m.ntime!"

Brinkerhoff scooped up the phone. "Director'soffice."

Fontaine held out his hand for the receiver.

Brinkerhoff looked uneasy and turned to Midge. "It'sJabba. He wants you."

The director swung his gaze over to Midge, who was alreadycrossing the room. She activated the speaker phone. "Go ahead,Jabba."

Jabba's metallic voice boomed into the room. "Midge,I'm in the main databank.

We're showing some strangestuff down here. I was wondering if-"

"Dammit, Jabba!" Midge came unglued. "That'swhat I've been trying to tell you!"