Digital Fortress

The chalice was just to the right of Becker when Hulohot spotted the mismatched khaki pants. "Estas ya muerto," he hissed softly. "You're already dead." Hulohot moved up the center aisle. The time for subtlety had passed. Two shots in the back, and he would grab the ring and run. The biggest taxi stand in Seville was half a block away on Mateus Gago. He reached for his weapon.

Adios, Senor Becker…

La sangre de Cristo, la copa de la salvacion.

The thick scent of red wine filled Becker's nostrils as Padre Herrera lowered the hand-polished, silver chalice. Little early for drinking, Becker thought as he leaned forward. But as the silver goblet dropped past eye level, there was a blur of movement. A figure, coming fast, his shape warped in the reflection of the cup.

Becker saw a flash of metal, a weapon being drawn. Instantly, unconsciously, like a ru

At the bottom of the steps, he stumbled and dove. Becker felt himself sliding out of control across the slick polished stone. A dagger of pain shot though his gut as he landed on his side. A moment later he was stumbling through a curtained entryway and down a set of wooden stairs.

Pain. Becker was ru

"Goddamn it!" he screamed.

There was the sudden sound of breaking glass to Becker's left. He wheeled. A man in red robes gasped and turned to eye Becker in horror. Like a cat caught with a canary, the holy man wiped his mouth and tried to hide the broken bottle of holy communion wine at his feet.

"Salida!" Becker demanded. "Salida!" Let me out!

Cardinal Guerra reacted on instinct. A demon had entered his sacred chambers screaming for deliverance from the house of God. Guerra would grant him that wish-immediately. The demon had entered at a most inopportune moment.

Pale, the cardinal pointed to a curtain on the wall to his left. Hidden behind the curtain was a door. He'd installed it three years ago. It led directly to the courtyard outside. The cardinal had grown tired of exiting the church through the front door like a common si

Chapter 96

Susan was wet and shivering, huddled on the Node 3 couch. Strathmore draped his suit coat over her shoulders. Hale's body lay a few yards away. The sirens blared. Like ice thawing on a frozen pond, TRANSLTR's hull let out a sharp crack.

"I'm going down to kill power," Strathmore said, laying a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "I'll be right back."

Susan stared absently after the commander as he dashed across the Crypto floor. He was no longer the catatonic man she'd seen ten minutes before. Commander Trevor Strathmore was back-logical, controlled, doing whatever was necessary to get the job done.

The final words of Hale's suicide note ran through her mind like a train out of control: Above all, I'm truly sorry about David Becker. Forgive me, I was blinded by ambition.

Susan Fletcher's nightmare had just been confirmed. David was in danger… or worse. Maybe it was already too late. I'm truly sorry about David Becker.

She stared at the note. Hale hadn't even signed it-he'd just typed his name at the bottom: Greg Hale. He'd poured out his guts, pressed print, and then shot himself-just like that. Hale had sworn he'd never go back to prison; he'd kept his vow-he'd chosen death instead.

"David…" She sobbed. David!

At that moment, ten feet below the Crypto floor, Commander Strathmore stepped off the ladder onto the first landing. It had been a day of fiascoes. What had started out as a patriotic mission had swerved wildly out of control. The commander had been forced to make impossible decisions, commit horrific acts-acts he'd never imagined himself capable of.

It was a solution! It was the only damn solution!

There was duty to think of: country and honor. Strathmore knew there was still time. He could shut down TRANSLTR. He could use the ring to save the country's most valuable databank. Yes, he thought, there was still time.

Strathmore looked out over the disaster around him. The overhead sprinklers were on. TRANSLTR was groaning. The sirens blared. The spi

Strathmore's thoughts were jarred free by the sound of his cellular. It was barely audible over the sirens and hissing fumes. He snatched it off his belt without breaking stride.

"Speak."

"Where's my pass-key?" a familiar voice demanded.

"Who is this?" Strathmore yelled over the din.

"It's Numataka!" the angry voice bellowed back. "You promised me a pass-key!"

Strathmore kept moving.

"I want Digital Fortress!" Numataka hissed.

"There is no Digital Fortress!" Strathmore shot back.

"What?"

"There is no unbreakable algorithm!"

"Of course there is! I've seen it on the Internet! My people have been trying to unlock it for days!"

"It's an encrypted virus, you fool-and you're damn lucky you can't open it!"

"But-"

"The deal is off!" Strathmore yelled. "I'm not North Dakota. There is no North Dakota! Forget I ever mentioned it!" He clamped the cellular shut, turned off the ringer, and rammed it back on his belt. There would be no more interruptions.

Twelve thousand miles away, Tokugen Numataka stood stu

Strathmore kept descending. The deal is off. Numatech Corp. would never get the unbreakable algorithm… and the NSA would never get its back door.

Strathmore's dream had been a long time in the pla