The punk nodded.
“Tenia el anillo? Did he have the ring?”
Terrified, Two‑Tone shook his head. “No.”
“Viste el anillo? Did you see the ring?”
Two‑Tone paused. What was the right answer?
“Viste el anillo?” the muffled voice demanded.
Two‑Tone nodded affirmatively, hoping honesty would pay. It did not. Seconds later he slid to the floor, his neck broken.
CHAPTER 61
Jabba lay on his back lodged halfway inside a dismantled mainframe computer. There was a penlight in his mouth, a soldering iron in his hand, and a large schematic blueprint propped on his belly. He had just finished attaching a new set of attenuators to a faulty motherboard when his cellular phone sprang to life.
“Shit,” he swore, groping for the receiver through a pile of cables. “Jabba here.”
“Jabba, it’s Midge.”
He brightened. “Twice in one night? People are gonna start talking.”
“Crypto’s got problems.” Her voice was tense.
Jabba frowned. “We been through this already. Remember?”
“It’s a power problem.”
“I’m not an electrician. Call Engineering.”
“The dome’s dark.”
“You’re seeing things. Go home.” He turned back to his schematic.
“Pitch black!” she yelled.
Jabba sighed and set down his penlight. “Midge, first of all, we’ve got aux power in there. It would never be pitch black. Second, Strathmore’s got a slightly better view of Crypto than I do right now. Why don’t you call him?”
“Because this has to do with him. He’s hiding something.”
Jabba rolled his eyes. “Midge sweetie, I’m up to my armpits in serial cable here. If you need a date, I’ll cut loose. Otherwise, call Engineering.”
“Jabba, this is serious. I can feel it.”
She can feel it? It was official, Jabba thought, Midge was in one of her moods. “If Strathmore’s not worried, I’m not worried.”
“Crypto’s pitch black, dammit!”
“So maybe Strathmore’s stargazing.”
“Jabba! I’m not kidding around here!”
“Okay, okay,” he grumbled, propping himself up on an elbow. “Maybe a generator shorted out. As soon as I’m done here, I’ll stop by Crypto and—”
“What about aux power!” Midge demanded. “If a generator blew, why is there no aux power?”
“I don’t know. Maybe Strathmore’s got TRANSLTR running and aux power is tapped out.”
“So why doesn’t he abort? Maybe it’s a virus. You said something earlier about a virus.”
“Damn it, Midge!” Jabba exploded. “I told you, there’s no virus in Crypto! Stop being so damned paranoid!”
There was a long silence on the line.
“Aw, shit, Midge,” Jabba apologized. “Let me explain.” His voice was tight. “First of all, we’ve got Gauntlet‑no virus could possibly get through. Second, if there’s a power failure, it’s hardware‑related‑viruses don’t kill power, they attack software and data. Whatever’s going on in Crypto, it’s not a virus.”
Silence.
“Midge? You there?”
Midge’s response was icy. “Jabba, I have a job to do. I don’t expect to be yelled at for doing it. When I call to ask why a multi billion‑dollar facility is in the dark, I expect a professional response.”
“Yes, ma'am.”
“A simple yes or no will suffice. Is it possible the problem in Crypto is virus‑related?”
“Midge . . . I told you—”
“Yes or no. Could TRANSLTR have a virus?”
Jabba sighed. “No, Midge. It’s totally impossible.”
“Thank you.”
He forced a chuckle and tried to lighten the mood. “Unless you think Strathmore wrote one himself and bypassed my filters.”
There was a stunned silence. When Midge spoke, her voice had an eerie edge. “Strathmore can bypass Gauntlet?”
Jabba sighed. “It was a joke, Midge.” But he knew it was too late.
CHAPTER 62
The Commander and Susan stood beside the closed trapdoor and debated what to do next.
“We’ve got Phil Chartrukian dead down there,” Strathmore argued. “If we call for help, Crypto will turn into a circus.”
“So what do you propose we do?” Susan demanded, wanting only to leave.
Strathmore thought a moment. “Don’t ask me how it happened,” he said, glancing down at the locked trapdoor, “but it looks like we’ve inadvertently located and neutralized North Dakota.” He shook his head in disbelief. “Damn lucky break if you ask me.” He still seemed stunned by the idea that Hale was involved in Tankado’s plan. “My guess is that Hale’s got the pass‑key hidden in his terminal somewhere‑maybe he’s got a copy at home. Either way, he’s trapped.”
“So why not call building security and let them cart him away?”
“Not yet,” Strathmore said, “if the Sys‑Secs uncover stats of this endless TRANSLTR run, we’ve got a whole new set of problems. I want all traces of Digital Fortress deleted before we open the doors.”
Susan nodded reluctantly. It was a good plan. When Security finally pulled Hale from the sublevels and charged him with Chartrukian’s death, he probably would threaten to tell the world about Digital Fortress. But the proof would be erased‑Strathmore could play dumb. An endless run? An unbreakable algorithm? But that’s absurd! Hasn’t Hale heard of the Bergofsky Principle?
“Here’s what we need to do.” Strathmore coolly outlined his plan. “We erase all of Hale’s correspondence with Tankado. We erase all records of my bypassing Gauntlet, all of Chartrukian’s Sys‑Sec analysis, the Run‑Monitor records, everything. Digital Fortress disappears. It was never here. We bury Hale’s key and pray to God David finds Tankado’s copy.”
David, Susan thought. She forced him from her mind. She needed to stay focused on the matter at hand.
“I’ll handle the Sys‑Sec lab,” Strathmore said. “Run‑Monitor stats, mutation activity stats, the works. You handle Node 3. Delete all of Hale’s E‑mail. Any records of correspondence with Tankado, anything that mentions Digital Fortress.”
“Okay,” Susan replied, focusing. “I’ll erase Hale’s whole drive. Reformat everything.”
“No!” Strathmore’s response was stern. “Don’t do that. Hale most likely has a copy of the pass‑key in there. I want it.”
Susan gaped in shock. “You want the pass‑key? I thought the whole point was to destroy the pass‑keys!”
“It is. But I want a copy. I want to crack open this damn file and have a look at Tankado’s program.”
Susan shared Strathmore’s curiosity, but instinct told her unlocking the Digital Fortress algorithm was not wise, regardless of how interesting it would be. Right now, the deadly program was locked safely in its encrypted vault‑totally harmless. As soon as he decrypted it . . . “Commander, wouldn’t we be better off just to—”
“I want the key,” he replied.
Susan had to admit, ever since hearing about Digital Fortress, she’d felt a certain academic curiosity to know how Tankado had managed to write it. Its mere existence contradicted the most fundamental rules of cryptography. Susan eyed the commander. “You’ll delete the algorithm immediately after we see it?”
“Without a trace.”
Susan frowned. She knew that finding Hale’s key would not happen instantly. Locating a random pass‑key on one of the Node 3 hard drives was somewhat like trying to find a single sock in a bedroom the size of Texas. Computer searches only worked when you knew what you were looking for; this pass‑key was random. Fortunately, however, because Crypto dealt with so much random material, Susan and some others had developed a complex process known as a nonconformity search. The search essentially asked the computer to study every string of characters on its hard drive, compare each string against an enormous dictionary, and flag any strings that seemed nonsensical or random. It was tricky work to refine the parameters continually, but it was possible.