Digital Fortress Chapter 50-54

Chapter 50 notwithstanding yards from TRANSLTRs hull, Phil Chartrukian s withald over a patch of white lettering on the Crypto floor.CRYPTO SUBLEVELS let PERSONNEL ONLYHe knew he was definitely not verit adequate personnel. He shot a quick glance up at Strath muchs office. The curtains were still pulled. Chartrukian had seen Susan Fletcher go into the lavatorys, so he knew she wasnt a problem. The al oneness other question was rack. He glanced toward node 3, wondering if the cryptographer were watching.Fuck it, he grumbled.Below his feet the surfaceline of a recessed trap inlet was barely visible in the floor. Chartrukian palmed the key hed just taken from the Sys-Sec lab.He knelt start, inserted the key in the floor, and turned. The peter show up beneath clicked. wherefore he unscrewed the large external andterfly catch and freed the door. Checking once again over his shoulder, he squatted down and pulled. The panel was sm wholly, only three feet by three feet, entirel y it was heavy. When it finally subject, the Sys-Sec stumbled back.A charge of hot air hit him in the face. It carried with it the sharp bite of freon gas. Billows of steamer swirled out of the opening, illuminated by the red utility lighting below. The re go hum of the generators became a rumble. Chartrukian stood up and peered into the opening. It looked more bid the gate trend to pit than a service entrance for a computer. A sign test led to a platform under the floor. Beyond that, t here(predicate) were stairs, but all he could see was swirling red mist.Greg Hale stood behind the one-way glass of Node 3. He watched as Phil Chartrukian eased himself down the track down toward the sublevels. From where Hale was standing, the Sys-Secs head appeared to hire been severed from his body and left out on the Crypto floor. Then, belatedly, it sank into the swirling mist.Gutsy move, Hale muttered. He knew where Chartrukian was headed. An emergency manual end of TRANSLTR was a l ogical action if he thought the computer had a virus. Unfortunately, it was also a sure way to slang Crypto crawling with Sys-Secs in about ten minutes. Emergency actions embossed alert flags at the chief(prenominal) switchboard. A Sys-Sec investigation of Crypto was or sothing Hale could not afford. Hale left Node 3 and headed for the trapdoor. Chartrukian had to be s undertoneped.Chapter 51Jabba resembled a giant tadpole. Like the cinematic creature for whom he was nicknamed, the man was a hairless spheroid. As re officent physician guardian angel of all NSA computer systems, Jabba marched from department to department, tweaking, soldering, and reaffirming his credo that taproom was the best medicine. No NSA computer had ever been infected under Jabbas master he intended to keep it that way.Jabbas home base was a raised workstation overlooking the NSAs under intellect, ultra-secret databank. It was on that point that a virus would do the most handicap and there that he s pent the majority of his date. At the moment, however, Jabba was taking a break and enjoying pepperoni calzones in the NSAs all-night commissary. He was about to dig into his third when his cellular phone rang.Go, he said, coughing as he swallowed a sassful.Jabba, a womans voice cooed. Its Midge.Data Queen the huge man gushed. Hed always had a soft spot for Midge Milken. She was sharp, and she was also the only woman Jabba had ever met who flirted with him. How the blaze are you?No complaints.Jabba wiped his mouth. You on site?Yup.Care to join me for a calzone?Love to Jabba, but Im watching these hips.Really? He snickered. Mind if I join you?Youre great(p).You have no idea.Glad I caught you in, she said. I need some advice.He took a long swallow of Dr Pepper. Shoot.It big businessman be nothing, Midge said, but my Crypto stats turned up something odd. I was hoping you could shed some light.What ya got? He took another sip.Ive got a spread abroad saying TRANSLTRs been running t he equal file for eighteen hours and hasnt cracked it.Jabba sprayed Dr Pepper all over his calzone. You what? any(prenominal) ideas?He dabbed at his calzone with a napkin. What report is this?Production report. Basic terms analysis stuff. Midge quickly explained what she and Brinkerhoff had found.Have you call ined Strathmore?Yes. He said everythings fine in Crypto. Said TRANSLTRs running full speed ahead. Said our datas wrong.Jabba furrowed his round forehead. So whats the problem? Your report glitched. Midge did not respond. Jabba caught her drift. He frowned. You dont think your report glitched?Correct.So you think Strathmores lying?Its not that, Midge said diplomatically, hunch forwarding she was on fragile ground. Its just that my stats have never been wrong in the past. I thought Id get a second opinion.Well, Jabba said, I hate to be the one to break it to you, but your datas fried.You think so?Id bet my commercial enterprise on it. Jabba took a big bite of soggy calzone and communicate with his mouth full. Longest a file has ever lasted inside TRANSLTR is three hours. That includes diagnostics, edge probes, everything. Only thing that could lock it down for eighteen hours would have to be viral. Nothing else could do it.Viral?Yeah, some kind of redundant cycle. Something that got into the processors, created a loop, and basically gummed up the works.Well, she ventured, Strathmores been in Crypto for about 36 hours straight. every chance hes fighting a virus?Jabba laughed. Strathmores been in there for thirty-six hours? Poor bastard. His wife probably said he cant come home. I hear shes bagging his ass.Midge thought a moment. Shed hear that too. She wondered if maybe she was existence paranoid.Midge. Jabba wheezed and took another long drink. If Strathmores toy had a virus, he would have called me. Strathmores sharp, but he doesnt know shit about viruses. TRANSLTRs all hes got. First abridge of trouble, he would have pressed the panic button-a nd around here, that means me. Jabba sucked in a long strand of mozzarella. Besides, theres no way in perdition TRANSLTR has a virus. Gauntlets the best set of package filters Ive ever written. Nothing gets through.after a long silence, Midge sighed. Any other thoughts?Yup. Your datas fried.You already said that.Exactly.She frowned. You havent caught trace of anything? Anything at all? Jabba laughed harshly. Midge listen up. Skipjack sucked. Strathmore blew it. But move on-its over. at that place was a long silence on the line, and Jabba realized hed gone too far. Sorry, Midge. I know you took heat over that whole mess. Strathmore was wrong. I know how you feel about him.This has nothing to do with Skipjack, she said firmly.Yeah, sure, Jabba thought. Listen, Midge, I dont have feelings for Strathmore one way or another. I mean, the guys a cryptographer. Theyre basically all self-centered assholes. They need their data yesterday. Every damn file is the one that could save the worl d.So what are you saying?Jabba sighed. Im saying Strathmores a psychotic like the rest of them. But Im also saying he loves TRANSLTR more than his own goddamn wife. If there were a problem, he would have called me.Midge was softened a long time. Finally she let out a indisposed sigh. So youre saying my datas fried?Jabba chuckled. Is there an echo in here?She laughed.Look, Midge. Drop me a work order. Ill be up on Monday to control your machine. In the meantime, get the hell out of here. Its Saturday night. Go get yourself primed(p) or something.She sighed. Im trying, Jabba. Believe me, Im trying.Chapter 52Club Embrujo-Warlock in English-was situated in the suburbs at the end of the number 27 bus line. Looking more like a fortification than a dance club, it was surrounded on all sides by high stucco walls into which were embedded shards of shattered beer bottles-a sodding(a) security system preventing anyone from entering illegally without leaving behind a good portion of flesh .During the ride, Becker had resolved himself to the fact that hed failed. It was time to call Strathmore with the bad news-the search was hopeless. He had done the best he could now it was time to go home.But now, gazing out at the mob of patrons pushing their way through the clubs entrance, Becker was not so sure his conscience would allow him to afford up the search. He was staring at the biggest crowd of punks hed ever seen there were coiffures of red, white, and blue everywhere.Becker sighed, weighing his options. He scanned the crowd and shrugged. Where else would she be on a Saturday night? Cursing his good fortune, Becker climbed off the bus.The access to Club Embrujo was a narrow stone corridor. As Becker entered he immediately felt himself caught up in the inward surge of eager patrons.Outta my way, faggot A humanity pincushion pawed past him, giving Becker an elbow in the side.Nice tie. Someone gave Beckers tie-in a hard yank.Wanna fuck? A teenage girl stared up at him looking like something out of Dawn of the Dead.The darkness of the corridor spilled out into a huge cement chamber that reeked of alcohol and body odor. The expectation was surreal-a deep mountain grotto in which hundreds of bodies moved as one. They surged up and down, hands pressed firmly to their sides, heads bobbing like lifeless bulbs on top of rigid spines. Crazed souls took running dives off a stage and set down on a sea of human limbs. Bodies were passed back and forth like human beach balls. Overhead, the pulsating strobes gave the whole thing the look of an old, silent movie.On the far wall, speakers the size of minivans shook so deeply that not even the most dedicated dancers could get closer than thirty feet from the pounding woofers.Becker blocked his ears and searched the crowd. Everywhere he looked was another red, white, and blue head. The bodies were packed so virtually together that he couldnt see what they were wearing. He saw no hint of a British flag anywher e. It was obvious hed never be able to enter the crowd without getting trampled. Someone nearby started vomiting.Lovely. Becker groaned. He moved off down a spray-painted hallway.The hall turned into a narrow mirrored tunnel, which opened to an outdoor patio scattered with tables and chairs. The patio was move with punk rockers, but to Becker it was like the gateway to Shangri-La-the summer sky opened up above him and the music faded away.Ignoring the curious stares, Becker walked out into the crowd. He loosened his tie and collapsed into a chair at the nearest untenanted table. It seemed like a lifetime since Strathmores early-morning call.After clearing the empty beer bottles from his table, Becker move his head in his hands. Just for a few minutes, he thought. atomic number 23 miles away, the man in wire-rim glasses sat in the back of a Fiat taxi as it raced headlong down a terra firma road.Embrujo, he grunted, re bear in minding the driver of their destination.The driver nodd ed, eyeing his curious new fare in the rearview mirror. Embrujo, he grumbled to himself. Weirder crowd every night.Chapter 53Tokugen Numataka lay naked on the massage table in his penthouse office. His personal masseuse worked out the kinks in his neck. She ground her palms into the fleshy pockets surrounding his shoulder blades, slowly working her way down to the towel covering his backside. Her hands slipped lower beneath his towel. Numataka barely noticed. His mind was elsewhere. He had been waiting for his private line to ring. It had not.There was a thrill at the door.Enter, Numataka grunted.The masseuse quickly pulled her hands from beneath the towel.The switchboard operator entered and bowed. honor chairman?Speak.The operator bowed a second time. I spoke to the phone exchange. The call originated from country autograph 1-the United States.Numataka nodded. This was good news. The call came from the States. He smiled. It was genuine.Where in the U.S.? he demanded.Theyre work ing on it, sir.Very well. govern me when you have more.The operator bowed again and left.Numataka felt his muscles relax. Country code 1. Good news indeed.Chapter 54Susan Fletcher paced impatiently in the Crypto bathroom and counted slowly to fifty. Her head was throbbing. Just a little longer, she told herself. Hale is North DakotaSusan wondered what Hales plans were. Would he announce the pass-key? Would he be greedy and try to sell the algorithmic rule? Susan couldnt bear to wait any longer. It was time. She had to get to Strathmore.Cautiously she cracked the door and peered out at the reflective wall on the far side of Crypto. There was no way to know if Hale was still watching. Shed have to move quickly to Strathmores office. Not too quickly, of course-she could not let Hale suspect she was on to him. She reached for the door and was about to pull it open when she heard something. Voices. Mens voices.The voices were coming through the ventilation shaft near the floor. She rel eased the door and moved toward the vent. The words were muffled by the dull hum of the generators below. The conference sounded like it was coming up from the sublevel catwalks. One voice was shrill, angry. It sounded like Phil Chartrukian.You dont hope me?The sound of more arguing rose.We have a virusThen the sound of harsh yelling.We need to call JabbaThen there were sounds of a struggle.Let me goThe tone that followed was barely human. It was a long wail cry of horror, like a tortured animal about to die. Susan froze beside the vent. The noise ended as abruptly as it had begun. Then there was a silence.An instant later, as if choreographed for some cheap horror matinee, the lights in the bathroom slowly dimmed. Then they flickered and went out. Susan Fletcher found herself standing in total blackness.