Digital Fortress

by Dan Brown

  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?"

  Strathmore's voice moved closer. "Let her go."

  "No way. You'll kill me."

  "I'm not going to kill anyone."

  "Oh, yeah? Tell that to Chartrukian!"

  Strathmore moved closer. "Chartrukian's dead."

  "No shit. You killed him. I saw it!"

  "Give it up, Greg," Strathmore said calmly.

  Hale clutched at Susan and whispered in her ear, "Strathmore pushed Chartrukian-I swear it!"

  "She's not going to fall for your divide-and-conquer technique," Strathmore said, moving closer. "Let her go."

  Hale hissed into the darkness, "Chartrukian was just a kid, for Christ's sake! Why'd you do it? To protect your little secret?"

  Strathmore stayed cool. "And what little secret is that?"

  "You know damn-fucking-well what secret that is! Digital Fortress!"

  "My, my," Strathmore muttered condescendingly, his voice like an iceberg. "So you do know about Digital Fortress. I was starting to think you'd deny that too."

  "Fuck you."

  "A witty defense."

  "You're a fool," Hale spat. "For your information, TRANSLTR is overheating."

  "Really?" Strathmore chuckled. "Let me guess-I should open the doors and call in the Sys-Secs?"

  "Exactly," Hale fired back. "You'd be an idiot not to."

  This time Strathmore laughed out loud. "That's your big play? TRANSLTR's overheating, so open the doors and let us out?"

  "It's true, dammit! I've been down to the sublevels! The aux power isn't pulling enough freon!"

  "Thanks for the tip," Strathmore said. "But TRANSLTR's got automatic shutdown; if it's overheating, Digital Fortress will quit all by itself."

  Hale sneered. "You're insane. What the fuck do I care if TRANSLTR blows? The damn machine should be outlawed anyway."

  Strathmore sighed. "Child psychology only works on children, Greg. Let her go."

  "So you can shoot me?"

  "I won't shoot you. I just want the pass-key."

  "What pass-key?"

  Strathmore sighed again. "The one Tankado sent you."

  "I have no idea what you're talking about."

  "Liar!" Susan managed. "I saw Tankado's mail in your account!"

  Hale went rigid. He spun Susan around. "You went in my account?"

  "And you aborted my tracer," she snapped.

  Hale felt his blood pressure skyrocket. He thought he'd covered his tracks; he had no idea Susan knew what he'd done. It was no wonder she wasn't buying a word he said. Hale felt the walls start to close in. He knew he could never talk his way out of that one-not in time. He whispered to her in desperation, "Susan… Strathmore killed Chartrukian!"

  "Let her go," the commander said evenly. "She doesn't believe you."

  "Why should she?" Hale fired back. "You lying bastard! You've got her brainwashed! You only tell her what suits your needs! Does she know what you really plan to do with Digital Fortress?"

  "And what's that?" Strathmore taunted.

  Hale knew what he was about to say would either be his ticket to freedom or his death warrant. He took a deep breath and went for broke. "You plan to write a back door in Digital Fortress."

  The words met with a bewildered silence from the darkness. Hale knew he had hit a bull's-eye.

  Apparently Strathmore's unflappable cool was being put to the test. "Who told you that?" he demanded, his voice rough around the edges.

  "I read it," Hale said smugly, trying to capitalize on the change of momentum. "In one of your brainstorms."

  "Impossible. I never print my brainstorms."

  "I know. I read it directly off your account."

  Strathmore seemed doubtful. "You got into my office?"

  "No. I snooped you from Node 3." Hale forced a self-assured chuckle. He knew he'd need all the negotiating skills he'd learned in the marines to get out of Crypto alive.

  Strathmore edged closer, the Berretta leveled in the darkness. "How do you know about my back door?"

  "I told you, I snooped your account."

  "Impossible."

  Hale forced a cocky sneer. "One of the problems of hiring the best, Commander-sometimes they're better than you."

  "Young man," Strathmore seethed, "I don't know where you get your information, but you're in way over your head. You will let Ms. Fletcher go right now or I'll call in Security and have you thrown in jail for life."

  "You won't do it," Hale stated matter-of-factly. "Calling Security ruins your plans. I'll tell them everything." Hale paused. "But let me out clean, and I'll never say a word about Digital Fortress."

  "No deal," Strathmore fired back. "I want the pass-key."

  "I don't have any fucking pass-key!"

  "Enough lies!" Strathmore bellowed. "Where is it?"

  Hale clamped down on Susan's neck. "Let me out, or she dies!"

  * * *

  Trevor Strathmore had done enough high-stakes bargaining in his life to know that Hale was in a very dangerous state of mind. The young cryptographer had painted himself into a corner, and a cornered opponent was always the most dangerous kind-desperate and unpredictable. Strathmore knew his next move was a critical one. Susan's life depended on it-and so did the future of Digital Fortress.

  Strathmore knew the first thing he had to do was release the tension of the situation. After a long moment, he sighed reluctantly. "Okay, Greg. You win. What do you want me to do?"

  Silence. Hale seemed momentarily unsure how to handle the commander's cooperative tone. He let up a bit on Susan's neck.

  "W-well…" he stammered, his voice wavering suddenly. "First thing you do is give me your gun. You're both coming with me."

  "Hostages?" Strathmore laughed coldly. "Greg, you'll have to do better than that. There are about a dozen armed guards between here and the parking lot."

  "I'm not a fool," Hale snapped. "I'm taking your elevator. Susan comes with me! You stay!"

  "I hate to tell you this," Strathmore replied, "but there's no power to the elevator."

  "Bullshit!" Hale snapped. "The lift runs on po
wer from the main building! I've seen the schematics!"

  "We tried it already," Susan choked, trying to help. "It's dead."

  "You're both so full of shit, it's incredible." Hale tightened his grip. "If the elevator's dead, I'll abort TRANSLTR and restore power."

  "The elevator takes a password," Susan managed feistily.

  "Big deal." Hale laughed. "I'm sure the commander will share. Won't you, Commander?"

  "No chance," Strathmore hissed.

  Hale boiled over. "Now you listen to me, old man-here's the deal! You let Susan and me out through your elevator, we drive a few hours, and then I let her go."

  Strathmore felt the stakes rising. He'd gotten Susan into this, and he needed to get her out. His voice stayed steady as a rock. "What about my plans for Digital Fortress?"

  Hale laughed. "You can write your back door-I won't say a word." Then his voice turned ominous. "But the day I think you're tracking me, I go to the press with the whole story. I tell them Digital Fortress is tainted, and I sink this whole fucking organization!"

  Strathmore considered Hale's offer. It was clean and simple. Susan lived, and Digital Fortress got its back door. As long as Strathmore didn't chase Hale, the back door stayed a secret. Strathmore knew Hale couldn't keep his mouth shut for long. But still… the knowledge of Digital Fortress was Hale's only insurance-maybe he'd be smart. Whatever happened, Strathmore knew Hale could be removed later if necessary.

  "Make up your mind, old man!" Hale taunted. "Are we leaving or not?" Hale's arms tightened around Susan like a vice.

  Strathmore knew that if he picked up the phone right now and called Security, Susan would live. He'd bet his life on it. He could see the scenario clearly. The call would take Hale completely by surprise. He would panic, and in the end, faced with a small army, Hale would be unable to act. After a brief standoff, he would give in. But if I call Security, Strathmore thought, my plan is ruined.

  Hale clamped down again. Susan cried out in pain.

  "What's it gonna be?" Hale yelled. "Do I kill her?"

  Strathmore considered his options. If he let Hale take Susan out of Crypto, there were no guarantees. Hale might drive for a while, park in the woods. He'd have a gun…. Strathmore's stomach turned. There was no telling what would happen before Hale set Susan free… if he set her free. I've got to call Security, Strathmore decided. What else can I do? He pictured Hale in court, spilling his guts about Digital Fortress. My plan will be ruined. There must be some other way.

  "Decide!" Hale yelled, dragging Susan toward the staircase.

  Strathmore wasn't listening. If saving Susan meant his plans were ruined, then so be it-nothing was worth losing her. Susan Fletcher was a price Trevor Strathmore refused to pay.

  Hale had Susan's arm twisted behind her back and her neck bent to one side. "This is your last chance, old man! Give me the gun!"

  Strathmore's mind continued to race, searching for another option. There are always other options! Finally he spoke-quietly, almost sadly. "No, Greg, I'm sorry. I just can't let you go."

  Hale choked in apparent shock. "What!"

  "I'm calling Security."

  Susan gasped. "Commander! No!"

  Hale tightened his grip. "You call Security, and she dies!"

  Strathmore pulled the cellular off his belt and flicked it on. "Greg, you're bluffing."

  "You'll never do it!" Hale yelled. "I'll talk! I'll ruin your plan! You're only hours away from your dream! Controlling all the data in the world! No more TRANSLTR. No more limits-just free information. It's a chance of a lifetime! You won't let it slip by!"

  Strathmore voice was like steel. "Watch me."

  "But-but what about Susan?" Hale stammered. "You make that call, and she dies!"

  Strathmore held firm. "That's a chance I'm ready to take."

  "Bullshit! You've got a bigger hard-on for her than you do for Digital Fortress! I know you! You won't risk it!"

  Susan began to make an angry rebuttal, but Strathmore beat her to it. "Young man! You don't know me! I take risks for a living. If you're looking to play hardball, let's play!" He started punching keys on his phone. "You misjudged me, son! Nobody threatens the lives of my employees and walks out!" He raised the phone and barked into the receiver, "Switchboard! Get me Security!"

  Hale began to torque Susan's neck. "I-I'll kill her. I swear it!"

  "You'll do no such thing!" Strathmore proclaimed. "Killing Susan will just make things wor-" He broke off and rammed the phone against his mouth. "Security! This is Commander Trevor Strathmore. We've got a hostage situation in Crypto! Get some men in here! Yes, now, goddamn it! We also have a generator failure. I want power routed from all available external sources. I want all systems on-line in five minutes! Greg Hale killed one of my junior Sys-Secs. He's holding my senior cryptographer hostage. You're cleared to use tear gas on all of us if necessary! If Mr. Hale doesn't cooperate, have snipers shoot him dead. I'll take full responsibility. Do it now!"

  Hale stood motionless-apparently limp in disbelief. His grip on Susan eased.

  Strathmore snapped his phone shut and shoved it back onto his belt. "Your move, Greg."

  Chapter 81

  Becker stood bleary-eyed beside the telephone booth on the terminal concourse. Despite his burning face and a vague nausea, his spirits were soaring. It was over. Truly over. He was on his way home. The ring on his finger was the grail he'd been seeking. He held his hand up in the light and squinted at the gold band. He couldn't focus well enough to read, but the inscription didn't appear to be in English. The first symbol was either a Q, an O, or a zero, his eyes hurt too much to tell. Becker studied the first few characters. They made no sense. This was a matter of national security?

  Becker stepped into the phone booth and dialed Strathmore. Before he had finished the international prefix, he got a recording. "Todos los circuitos estan ocupados," the voice said. "Please hang up and try your call later." Becker frowned and hung up. He'd forgotten: Getting an international connection from Spain was like roulette, all a matter of timing and luck. He'd have to try again in a few minutes.

  Becker fought to ignore the waning sting of the pepper in his eyes. Megan had told him rubbing his eyes would only make them worse; he couldn't imagine. Impatient, he tried the phone again. Still no circuits. Becker couldn't wait any longer-his eyes were on fire; he had to flush them with water. Strathmore would have to wait a minute or two. Half blind, Becker made his way toward the bathrooms.

  The blurry image of the cleaning cart was still in front of the men's room, so Becker turned again toward the door marked damas. He thought he heard sounds inside. He knocked. "Hola?"

  Silence.

  Probably Megan, he thought. She had five hours to kill before her flight and had said she was going to scrub her arm till it was clean.

  "Megan?" he called. He knocked again. There was no reply. Becker pushed the door open. "Hello?" He went in. The bathroom appeared empty. He shrugged and walked to the sink.

  The sink was still filthy, but the water was cold. Becker felt his pores tighten as he splashed the water in his eyes. The pain began to ease, and the fog gradually lifted. Becker eyed himself in the mirror. He looked like he'd been crying for days.

  He dried his face on the sleeve of his jacket, and then it suddenly occurred to him. In all the excitement, he'd forgotten where he was. He was at the airport! Somewhere out thereon the tarmac, in one of the Seville airport's three private hangars, there was a Learjet 60 waiting to take him home. The pilot had stated very clearly, I have orders to stay here until you return.

  It was hard to believe, Becker thought, that after all this, he had ended up right back where he'd started. What am I waiting for? he laughed. I'm sure the pilot can radio a message to Strathmore!

  Chuckling to himself, Becker glanced in the mirror and straightened his tie. He was about to go when the reflection of something behind him caught his eye. He turned. It appeared to be one end of Megan's duffel, protruding from under a pa
rtially open stall door.

  "Megan?" he called. There was no reply. "Megan?"

  Becker walked over. He rapped loudly on the side of the stall. No answer. He gently pushed the door. It swung open.

  Becker fought back a cry of horror. Megan was on the toilet, her eyes rolled skyward. Dead center of her forehead, a bullet hole oozed bloody liquid down her face.

  "Oh, Jesus!" Becker cried in shock.

  "Esta muerta," a barely human voice croaked behind him. "She's dead."

  It was like a dream. Becker turned.

  "Senor Becker?" the eerie voice asked.

  Dazed, Becker studied the man stepping into the rest room. He looked oddly familiar.

  "Soy Hulohot," the killer said. "I am Hulohot." The misshapen words seemed to emerge from the depths of his stomach. Hulohot held out his hand. "El anillo. The ring."

  Becker stared blankly.

  The man reached in his pocket and produced a gun. He raised the weapon and trained it on Becker's head. "El anillo."

  In an instant of clarity, Becker felt a sensation he had never known. As if cued by some subconscious survival instinct, every muscle in his body tensed simultaneously. He flew through the air as the shot spat out. Becker crashed down on top of Megan. A bullet exploded against the wall behind him.

  "Mierda!" Hulohot seethed. Somehow, at the last possible instant, David Becker had dived out of the way. The assassin advanced.

  Becker pulled himself off the lifeless teenager. There were approaching footsteps. Breathing. The cock of a weapon.

  "Adios," the man whispered as he lunged like a panther, swinging his weapon into the stall.

  The gun went off. There was a flash of red. But it was no tblood. It was something else. An object had materialized as if out of nowhere, sailing out of