Digital Fortress

Chartrukian was insistent. "The infected file exists, sir. But Gauntlet never picked it up."

"If Gauntlet never picked it up," Strathmore fumed, "then how the hell do you know it exists?"

Chartrukian suddenly sounded more confident. "Mutation strings, sir. I ran a full analysis, and the probe turned up mutation strings!"

Susan now understood why the Sys-Sec was so concerned. Mutation strings, she mused. She knew mutation strings were programming sequences that corrupted data in extremely complex ways. They were very common in computer viruses, particularly viruses that altered large blocks of data. Of course, Susan also knew from Tankado’s E-mail that the mutation strings Chartrukian had seen were harmless-simply part of Digital Fortress.

The Sys-Sec went on. "When I first saw the strings, sir, I thought Gauntlet’s filters had failed. But then I ran some tests and found out…" He paused, looking suddenly uneasy. "I found out that somebody manually bypassed Gauntlet."

The statement met with a sudden hush. Strathmore’s face turned an even deeper shade of crimson. There was no doubt whom Chartrukian was accusing; Strathmore’s terminal was the only one in Crypto with clearance to bypass Gauntlet’s filters.

When Strathmore spoke, his voice was like ice. "Mr. Chartrukian, not that it is any concern of yours, but I bypassed Gauntlet." He went on, his temper hovering near the boiling point. "As I told you earlier, I’m running a very advanced diagnostic. The mutation strings you see in TRANSLTR are part of that diagnostic; they are there because I put them there. Gauntlet refused to let me load the file, so I bypassed its filters." Strathmore’s eyes narrowed sharply at Chartrukian. "Now, will there be anything else before you go?"

In a flash, it all clicked for Susan. When Strathmore had downloaded the encrypted Digital Fortress algorithm from the Internet and tried to run it through TRANSLTR, the mutation strings had tripped Gauntlet’s filters. Desperate to know whether Digital Fortress was breakable, Strathmore decided to bypass the filters.

Normally, bypassing Gauntlet was unthinkable. In this situation, however, there was no danger in sending Digital Fortress directly into TRANSLTR; the commander knew exactly what the file was and where it came from.

"With all due respect, sir," Chartrukian pressed, "I’ve never heard of a diagnostic that employs mutation-"

"Commander," Susan interjected, not able to wait another moment. "I really need to-"

This time her words were cut short by the sharp ring of Strathmore’s cellular phone. The commander snatched up the receiver. "What is it!" he barked. Then he fell silent and listened to the caller.

Susan forgot about Hale for an instant. She prayed the caller was David. Tell me he’s okay, she thought. Tell me he found the ring! But Strathmore caught her eye and he gave her a frown. It was not David.

Susan felt her breath grow short. All she wanted to know was that the man she loved was safe. Strathmore, Susan knew, was impatient for other reasons; if David took much longer, the commander would have to send backup-NSA field agents. It was a gamble he had hoped to avoid.

"Commander?" Chartrukian urged. "I really think we should check-"

"Hold on," Strathmore said, apologizing to his caller. He covered his mouthpiece and leveled a fiery stare at his young Sys-Sec. "Mr. Chartrukian," he growled, "this discussion is over. You are to leave Crypto. Now. That’s an order."

Chartrukian stood stunned. "But, sir, mutation str-"

"NOW!" Strathmore bellowed.

Chartrukian stared a moment, speechless. Then he stormed off toward the Sys-Sec lab.

Strathmore turned and eyed Hale with a puzzled look. Susan understood the commander’s mystification. Hale had been quiet-too quiet. Hale knew very well there was no such thing as a diagnostic that used mutation strings, much less one that could keep TRANSLTR busy eighteen hours. And yet Hale hadn’t said a word. He appeared indifferent to the entire commotion. Strathmore was obviously wondering why. Susan had the answer.

"Commander," she said insistently, "if I could just speak-"

"In a minute," he interjected, still eyeing Hale quizzically. "I need to take this call." With that, Strathmore turned on his heel and headed for his office.

Susan opened her mouth, but the words stalled on the tip of her tongue. Hale is North Dakota! She stood rigid, unable to breathe. She felt Hale staring at her. Susan turned. Hale stepped aside and swung his arm graciously toward the Node 3 door. "After you, Sue."

Chapter 41

In a linen closet on the third floor of the Alfonso XIII, a maid lay unconscious on the floor. The man with wire-rim glasses was replacing a hotel master key in her pocket. He had not sensed her scream when he struck her, but he had no way of knowing for sure-he had been deaf since he was twelve.

He reached to the battery pack on his belt with a certain kind of reverence; a gift from a client, the machine had given him new life. He could now receive his contracts anywhere in the world. All communications arrived instantaneously and untraceably.

He was eager as he touched the switch. His glasses flickered to life. Once again his fingers carved into the empty air and began clicking together. As always, he had recorded the names of his victims-a simple matter of searching a wallet or purse. The contacts on his fingers connected, and the letters appeared in the lens of his glasses like ghosts in the air.

SUBJECT: ROCIO EVA GRANADA-TERMINATED

SUBJECT: HANS HUBER-TERMINATED

Three stories below David Becker paid his tab and wandered across the lobby, his half-finished drink in hand. He headed toward the hotel’s open terrace for some fresh air. In and out, he mused. Things hadn’t panned out quite as he expected. He had a decision to make. Should he just give up and go back to the airport? A matter of national security. He swore under his breath. So why the hell had they sent a schoolteacher?

Becker moved out of sight of the bartender and dumped the remaining drink in a potted jasmine. The vodka had made him light-headed. Cheapest drunk in history, Susan often called him. After refilling the heavy crystal glass from a water fountain, Becker took a long swallow.

He stretched a few times trying to shake off the light haze that had settled over him. Then he set down his glass and walked across the lobby.

As he passed the elevator, the doors slid opened. There was a man inside. All Becker saw were thick wire-rim glasses. The man raised a handkerchief to blow his nose. Becker smiled politely and moved on… out into the stifling Sevillian night.

Chapter 42

Inside Node 3, Susan caught herself pacing frantically. She wished she’d exposed Hale when she’d had the chance.

Hale sat at his terminal. "Stress is a killer, Sue. Something you want to get off your chest?"

Susan forced herself to sit. She had thought Strathmore would be off the phone by now and return to speak to her, but he was nowhere to be seen. Susan tried to keep calm. She gazed at her computer screen. The tracer was still running-for the second time. It was immaterial now. Susan knew whose address it would return: [email protected].

Susan gazed up toward Strathmore’s workstation and knew she couldn’t wait any longer. It was time to interrupt the commander’s phone call. She stood and headed for the door.

Hale seemed suddenly uneasy, apparently noticing Susan’s odd behavior. He strode quickly across the room and beat her to the door. He folded his arms and blocked her exit.

"Tell me what’s going on," he demanded. "There’s something going on here today. What is it?"