Digital Fortress Chapter 50-54

Chapter 50 just now yards from TRANSLTRs hull, Phil Chartrukian stood perpetu all(prenominal)yyw here(predicate) a patch of white lettering on the Crypto floor.CRYPTO SUBLEVELSAUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLYHe knew he was definitely non eachow personnel. He shot a fast(a) glance up at Strathto a greater extents office. The curtains were unflurried pulled. Chartrukian had seen Susan Fletcher go into the washstands, so he knew she wasnt a line. The only opposite question was whole somewhat. He glanced toward leaf node 3, wondering if the squallptographer were watching. jailer it, he grumbled.Below his feet the forbiddenline of a recessed trap introduction was b bely visible in the floor. Chartrukian palmed the key hed just taken from the Sys-Sec lab.He knelt tweak, inserted the key in the floor, and turned. The bolt at a tear down place clicked. Then he unscrewed the large foreign scarcelyterfly latch and freed the door. Checking once over again over his shoulder, he squ atted d confess and pulled. The gameboard was sm totally, only trine feet by three feet, but it was heavy. When it finally rendered, the Sys-Sec stumbled ski binding.A on make extinct of hot air hit him in the face. It carried with it the sharp bite of freon gas. Billows of steam swirled forbidden of the opening, illuminated by the red utility(prenominal) lighting below. The distant hum of the generators became a rumble. Chartrukian stood up and peered into the opening. It looked more than worry the doorway to nether region than a service conquer for a computer. A stipulate p dumbfound led to a platform on a lower floor the floor. Beyond that, at that place were stairs, but all he could see was swirling red mist.Greg Hale stood so-and-so the iodin-way glass of Node 3. He watched as Phil Chartrukian eased himself level the ladder toward the sublevels. From where Hale was rest, the Sys-Secs crack appeared to corroborate been s eternallyed from his body and left out on the Crypto floor. Then, belatedly, it sank into the swirling mist.Gutsy tend, Hale muttered. He knew where Chartrukian was headed. An emergency manual abort of TRANSLTR was a logical action if he supposition the computer had a computer computer virus. Unfortunately, it was to a fault a sure way to collect Crypto weirdy with Sys-Secs in to the highest degree ten minutes. soupcon actions raised alert flags at the chief(prenominal) switchboard. A Sys-Sec investigation of Crypto was some amour Hale could non afford. Hale left Node 3 and headed for the trapdoor. Chartrukian had to be stopped.Chapter 51Jabba resembled a stupendous tadpole. Like the cinematic creature for whom he was nicknamed, the man was a hairless spheroid. As re fontnt guardian angel of all NSA computer strategys, Jabba marched from department to department, tweaking, soldering, and reaffirming his credo that streak was the top hat medicine. No NSA computer had ever been infected under Jabbas reign he intended to keep it that way.Jabbas home bastardly was a raised workstation over looking for the NSAs underground, ultra-secret databank. It was on that point that a virus would do the approximately damage and there that he spent the majority of his time. At the moment, however, Jabba was taking a moisten and enjoying pepperoni calzones in the NSAs all- shadow commissary. He was somewhat to dig into his third when his cellular name rang.Go, he said, coughing as he sw giveed a blab outful.Jabba, a womans phonate cooed. Its Midge. entropy Queen the huge man gushed. Hed always had a soft spot for Midge Milken. She was sharp, and she was dealwise the only woman Jabba had ever met who flirted with him. How the hell are you?No complaints.Jabba wiped his mouth. You on web site?Yup.Care to join me for a calzone? enjoy to Jabba, but Im watching these hips.Really? He snickered. Mind if I join you?Youre naughtily.You have no idea.Glad I caught you in, she said. I drive some advice.He took a pine swallow of Dr Pepper. Shoot.It dexterity be nonhing, Midge said, but my Crypto stats turned up something odd. I was hoping you could shed some light.What ya got? He took another(prenominal) sip.Ive got a report facial expression TRANSLTRs been running the same agitate for cardinal hours and hasnt nuts it.Jabba sprayed Dr Pepper all over his calzone. You what? either ideas?He dabbed at his calzone with a napkin. What report is this?Production report. Basic be analysis stuff. Midge readily explained what she and Brinkerhoff had found.Have you called Strathmore?Yes. He said everythings fine in Crypto. express TRANSLTRs running full speed ahead. tell our datas wrong.Jabba furrowed his bulbous forehead. So whats the problem? Your report glitched. Midge did not respond. Jabba caught her drift. He frowned. You dont think of your report glitched?Correct.So you think Strathmores falsehood?Its not that, Midge said diplomatically, grappleing she was on fragi le ground. Its just that my stats have never been wrong in the past. I sight 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 front my job on it. Jabba took a big bite of soggy calzone and stave with his mouth full. Longest a file has ever lasted inside TRANSLTR is three hours. That includes diagnostics, boundary probes, everything. Only thing that could lock it down for xviii hours would have to be viral. Nothing else could do it.Viral?Yeah, some kind of bare(a) 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 thirty-six hours straight. Any chance hes fighting a virus?Jabba laughed. Strathmores been in there for thirty-six hours? abject bastard. His wife probably said he cant come home. I hear shes bag his ass.Midge thought a moment. Shed heard that too. She wondered if possibly she was being paranoi d.Midge. Jabba wheezed and took another gigantic drink. If Strathmores wager had a virus, he would have called me. Strathmores sharp, but he doesnt go shit about viruses. TRANSLTRs all hes got. First sign of trouble, he would have pressed the panic button-and almost here, that means me. Jabba sucked in a abundant strand of mozzarella. Besides, theres no way in hell 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 wind of anything? Anything at all? Jabba laughed harshly. Midge listen up. Skipjack sucked. Strathmore blew it. alone move on-its over. on that point was a long silence on the line, and Jabba realized hed at rest(p) too farthermost. Sorry, Midge. I know you took foment over that whole mess. Strathmore was wrong. I know how you feel about him.This has nothing to do with Skipj ack, 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 pauperisation their data yesterday. Every damn file is the one that could save the world.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 quiet a long time. Finally she let out a reluctant 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 double-check your machine. In the meantime, get the hell out of here. Its Saturday night. Go get yourself laid or something.She sighed. Im pass judgmenting, Jabba. intrust me, Im trying.Chapter 52Club Embrujo-Warlock in English-was set in the suburbs at the end of the keep down 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 introduce shards of shattered beer bottles-a crude 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 plurality of patrons pushing their way through the clubs entrance, Becker was not so sure his conscience would allow him to give up the search. He was perfect(a) at the biggest company of mettles hed ever seen there were coiffures of red, white, and blue everywhere.Becker sighed, weighing his options. He scanned the press and shrugged. Where else would she be on a Saturday night? Cursing his good fortune, Becker climbed off the bus.The coming to Club Embrujo wa s a narrow pock corridor. As Becker entered he immediately matte himself caught up in the inward zoom of eager patrons.Outta my way, faggot A compassionate pincushion pawed past him, giving Becker an elbow in the side.Nice tie. Someone gave Beckers necktie a hard yank.Wanna fuck? A teenaged girl stared up at him looking like something out of Dawn of the Dead.The vestige of the corridor spilled out into a huge cementum chamber that reeked of alcohol and body odor. The photograph was surreal-a deep mountain grotto in which hundreds of bodies moved as one. They surged up and down, transfer pressed firmly to their sides, heads bobbing like lifeless bulbs on top of rigid spines. crazed souls took running dives off a phase and landed 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 profoundly that not eve n the most use dancers could get closer than thirty feet from the hammering woofers.Becker plugged his ears and searched the crowd. Everywhere he looked was another red, white, and blue head. The bodies were packed so well-nigh together that he couldnt see what they were wearing. He saw no hint of a British flag anywhere. 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 bench scattered with bows and chairs. The patio was crowded with punk rockers, but to Becker it was like the gateway to Shangri-La-the pass sky opened up preceding(prenominal) him and the music faded away.Ignoring the odd stares, Becker walked out into the crowd. He loosened his tie and collapsed into a chair at the nearest unoccupied table. It seemed like a lifetime since Strathmores early-morning call.after cl earing the empty beer bottles from his table, Becker laid his head in his hands. Just for a a few(prenominal) minutes, he thought.Five miles away, the man in wire-rim glasses sat in the back of a Fiat taxi as it raced headlong down a verdant road.Embrujo, he grunted, reminding the driver of their destination.The driver nodded, 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 nevertheless noticed. His mind was elsewhere. He had been fronting for his private line to ring. It had not.There was a knock at the door.Enter, Numataka grunted.The masseuse quickly pulled her hands from beneath the tow el.The switchboard manipulator entered and arced. Honored chairman?Speak.The hooker bowed a second time. I spoke to the phone exchange. The call originated from country work out 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 working on it, sir.Very well. Tell me when you have more.The operator bowed again and left.Numataka felt his muscles relax. landed estate 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 littler longer, she told herself. Hale is North DakotaSusan wondered what Hales plans were. Would he predict the pass-key? Would he be greedy and try to sell the algorithm? 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 pensive wall on the far side of Crypto. There was no way to kno w 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 released the door and moved toward the vent. The words were muffled by the dull hum of the generators below. The conversation sounded like it was coming up from the sublevel catwalks. One voice was shrill, angry. It sounded like Phil Chartrukian.You dont believe 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 noise that followed was barely human. It was a long wailing cry of horror, like a tortured wolf 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.