Digital Fortess - Brown Dan - Страница 52

• Предыдущая
• 52/80
• Следующая

“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.”

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.

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.

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!”

• Предыдущая
• 52/80
• Следующая