Digital Fortress

Susan began having second thoughts about risking a visit to Node 3 to get Hale’s pass-key. The commander insisted Hale wouldn’t have the guts to touch them, but Susan wasn’t so sure. Hale was desperate. He had two options: Escape Crypto or go to jail.

A voice kept telling Susan they should wait for David’s call and use his pass-key, but she knew there was no guarantee he would even find it. She wondered what was taking David so long. Susan swallowed her apprehension and kept going.

Strathmore descended silently. There was no need to alert Hale they were coming. As they neared the bottom, Strathmore slowed, feeling for the final step. When he found it, the heel of his loafer clicked on hard black tile. Susan felt his shoulder tense. They’d entered the danger zone. Hale could be anywhere.

In the distance, now hidden behind TRANSLTR, was their destination-Node 3. Susan prayed Hale was still there, lying on the floor, whimpering in pain like the dog he was.

Strathmore let go of the railing and switched the gun back to his right hand. Without a word, he moved out into the darkness. Susan held tight to his shoulder. If she lost him, the only way she’d find him again was to speak. Hale might hear them. As they moved away from the safety of the stairs, Susan recalled late-night games of tag as a kid-she’d left home base, she was in the open. She was vulnerable.

TRANSLTR was the only island in the vast black sea. Every few steps Strathmore stopped, gun poised, and listened. The only sound was the faint hum from below. Susan wanted to pull him back, back to safety, back to home base. There seemed to be faces in the dark all around her.

Halfway to TRANSLTR, the silence of Crypto was broken. Somewhere in the darkness, seemingly right on top of them, a high-pitched beeping pierced the night. Strathmore spun, and Susan lost him. Fearful, Susan shot her arm out, groping for him. But the commander was gone. The space where his shoulder had been was now just empty air. She staggered forward into the emptiness.

The beeping noise continued. It was nearby. Susan wheeled in the darkness. There was a rustle of clothing, and suddenly the beeping stopped. Susan froze. An instant later, as if from one of her worst childhood nightmares, a vision appeared. A face materialized directly in front of her. It was ghostly and green. It was the face of a demon, sharp shadows jutting upward across deformed features. She jumped back. She turned to run, but it grabbed her arm.

"Don’t move!" it commanded.

For an instant, she thought she saw Hale in those two burning eyes. But the voice was not Hale’s. And the touch was too soft. It was Strathmore. He was lit from beneath by a glowing object that he’d just pulled from his pocket. Her body sagged with relief. She felt herself start breathing again. The object in Strathmore’s hand had some sort of electronic LED that was giving off a greenish glow.

"Damn," Strathmore cursed under his breath. "My new pager." He stared in disgust at the SkyPager in his palm. He’d forgotten to engage the silent-ring feature. Ironically, he’d gone to a local electronics store to buy the device. He’d paid cash to keep it anonymous; nobody knew better than Strathmore how closely the NSA watched their own-and the digital messages sent and received from this pager were something Strathmore definitely needed to keep private.

Susan looked around uneasily. If Hale hadn’t known they were coming, he knew now.

Strathmore pressed a few buttons and read the incoming message. He groaned quietly. It was more bad news from Spain-not from David Becker, but from the other party Strathmore had sent to Seville.

Three thousand miles away, a mobile surveillance van sped along the darkened Seville streets. It had been commissioned by the NSA under "Umbra" secrecy from a military base in Rota. The two men inside were tense. It was not the first time they’d received emergency orders from Fort Meade, but the orders didn’t usually come from so high up.

The agent at the wheel called over his shoulder. "Any sign of our man?"

The eyes of his partner never left the feed from the wide-angle video monitor on the roof. "No. Keep driving."

Chapter 78

Underneath the twisting mass of cables, Jabba was sweating. He was still on his back with a penlight clenched in his teeth. He’d gotten used to working late on weekends; the less hectic NSA hours were often the only times he could perform hardware maintenance. As he maneuvered the red-hot soldering iron through the maze of wires above him, he moved with exceptional care; singeing any of the dangling sheathes would be disaster.

Just another few inches, he thought. The job was taking far longer than he’d imagined.

Just as he brought the tip of the iron against the final thread of raw solder, his cellular phone rang sharply. Jabba startled, his arm twitched, and a large glob of sizzling, liquefied lead fell on his arm.

"Shit!" He dropped the iron and practically swallowed his penlight. "Shit! Shit! Shit!"

He scrubbed furiously at the drop of cooling solder. It rolled off, leaving an impressive welt. The chip he was trying to solder in place fell out and hit him in the head.

"Goddamn it!"

Jabba’s phone summoned him again. He ignored it.

"Midge," he cursed under his breath. Damn you! Crypto’s fine! The phone rang on. Jabba went back to work reseating the new chip. A minute later the chip was in place, but his phone was still ringing. For Christ’s sake, Midge! Give it up!

The phone rang another fifteen seconds and finally stopped. Jabba breathed a sigh of relief.

Sixty seconds later the intercom overhead crackled. "Would the chief Sys-Sec please contact the main switchboard for a message."

Jabba rolled his eyes in disbelief. She just doesn’t give up, does she? He ignored the page.

Chapter 79

Strathmore replaced his Skypager in his pocket and peered through the darkness toward Node 3.

He reached for Susan’s hand. "Come on."

But their fingers never touched.

There was a long guttural cry from out of the darkness. A thundering figure loomed-a Mack truck bearing down with no headlights. An instant later, there was a collision and Strathmore was skidding across the floor.

It was Hale. The pager had given them away.

Susan heard the Berretta fall. For a moment she was planted in place, unsure where to run, what to do. Her instincts told her to escape, but she didn’t have the elevator code. Her heart told her to help Strathmore, but how? As she spun in desperation, she expected to hear the sounds of a life-and-death struggle on the floor, but there was nothing. Everything was suddenly silent-as if Hale had hit the commander and then disappeared back into the night.

Susan waited, straining her eyes into the darkness, hoping Strathmore wasn’t hurt. After what seemed like an eternity, she whispered, "Commander?"

Even as she said it, she realized her mistake. An instant later Hale’s odor welled up behind her. She turned too late. Without warning, she was twisting, gasping for air. She found herself crushed in a familiar headlock, her face against Hale’s chest.

"My balls are killing me." Hale panted in her ear.

Susan’s knees buckled. The stars in the dome began to spin above her.

Chapter 80

Hale clamped down on Susan’s neck and yelled into the darkness. "Commander, I’ve got your sweetheart. I want out!"

His demands were met with silence.

Hale’s grip tightened. "I’ll break her neck!"

A gun cocked directly behind them. Strathmore’s voice was calm and even. "Let her go."

Susan winced in pain. "Commander!"

Hale spun Susan’s body toward the sound. "You shoot and you’ll hit your precious Susan. You ready to take that chance?"