Great. Becker groaned, running a hand through his hair."What time did it leave?"

"Two a.m. sharp, every Sat.u.r.day night. She's somewhereover the Atlantic by now."

Becker checked his watch. It read 1:45 p.m. He turned toTwo-Tone, confused. "You said it's a two a.m.flight?"

The punk nodded, laughing. "Looks like you're f.u.c.ked,ol' man."

Becker pointed angrily to his watch. "But it's onlyquarter to two!"

Two-Tone eyed the watch, apparently puzzled. "Well,I'll be d.a.m.ned." he laughed.

"I'm usually notthis buzzed till four a.m.!"

"What's the fastest way to the airport?" Beckersnapped.

"Taxi stand out front."

Becker grabbed a 1,000-peseta note from his pocket and stuffedit in Two-Tone's hand.

"Hey, man, thanks!" the punk called after him."If you see Megan, tell her I said hi!"

But Becker wasalready gone.

Two-Tone sighed and staggered back toward the dance floor. Hewas too drunk to notice the man in wire-rim gla.s.ses followinghim.

Outside, Becker scanned the parking lot for a taxi. There wasnone. He ran over to a stocky bouncer. "Taxi!"

The bouncer shook his head. "Demasiado temprano. Tooearly."

Too early? Becker swore. It's two o'clock inthe morning!

"Pidame uno! Call me one!" The man pulled out a walkie-talkie. He said a few words and thensigned off. "Veinte minutos," he offered.

"Twenty minutes?!" Becker demanded. "Y elautobus?"

The bouncer shrugged. "Forty-five minutos."

Becker threw up his hands. Perfect!

The sound of a small engine turned Becker's head. Itsounded like a chainsaw. A big kid and his chain-clad date pulledinto the parking lot on an old Vespa 250 motorcycle.

Thegirl's skirt had blown high on her thighs. She didn'tseem to notice. Becker dashed over. I can't believeI'm doing this, he thought. I hate motorcycles. Heyelled to the driver. "I'll pay you ten thousand pesetasto take me to the airport!"

The kid ignored him and killed the engine.

"Twenty thousand!" Becker blurted. "I need to getto the airport!"

The kid looked up. "Scusi?" He was Italian.

"Aeroporto! Per favore. Sulla Vespa! Venti millepesete!"

The Italian eyed his crummy, little bike and laughed."Venti mille pesete? La Vespa?"

"Cinquanta mille! Fifty thousand!" Becker offered. Itwas about four hundred dollars.

The Italian laughed doubtfully. "Dov'e la plata?Where's the cash?"

Becker pulled five 10,000-peseta notes from his pocket and heldthem out. The Italian looked at the money and then at hisgirlfriend. The girl grabbed the cash and stuffed it in herblouse.

"Grazie!" the Italian beamed. He tossed Beckerthe keys to his Vespa. Then he grabbed his girlfriend's hand,and they ran off laughing into the building.

"Aspetta!" Becker yelled. "Wait! I wanted a ride!"

CHAPTER 59 Susan reached for Commander Strathmore's hand as he helpedher up the ladder onto the Crypto floor. The image of PhilChartrukian lying broken on the generators was burned into hermind. The thought of Hale hiding in the bowels of Crypto had lefther dizzy. The truth was inescapable-Hale had pushedChartrukian.

Susan stumbled past the shadow of TRANSLTR back towardCrypto's main exit-the door she'd come through hoursearlier. Her frantic punching on the unlit keypad did nothing tomove the huge portal. She was trapped; Crypto was a prison. Thedome sat like a satellite, 109 yards away from the main NSAstructure, accessible only through the main portal. Since Cryptomade its own power, the switchboard probably didn't even knowthey were in trouble.

"The main power's out," Strathmore said, arrivingbehind her. "We're on aux."

The backup power supply in Crypto was designed so that TRANSLTRand its cooling systems took precedence over all other systems,including lights and doorways. That way an untimely power outagewould not interrupt TRANSLTR during an important run. It also meantTRANSLTR would never run without its freon cooling system; in anuncooled enclosure, the heat generated by three million processorswould rise to treacherous levels-perhaps even igniting thesilicon chips and resulting in a fiery meltdown. It was an image noone dared consider.

Susan fought to get her bearings. Her thoughts were consumed bythe single image of the Sys-Sec on the generators. She stabbed atthe keypad again. Still no response.

"Abort the run!" shedemanded. Telling TRANSLTR to stop searching for the DigitalFortress pa.s.s-key would shut down its circuits and free up enoughbackup power to get the doors working again.

"Easy, Susan," Strathmore said, putting a steadyinghand on her shoulder.

The commander's rea.s.suring touch lifted Susan from herdaze. She suddenly remembered why she had been going to get him.She wheeled, "Commander! Greg Hale is North Dakota!"

There was a seemingly endless beat of silence in the dark.Finally Strathmore replied.

His voice sounded more confused thanshocked. "What are you talking about?"

"Hale ..." Susan whispered. "He's NorthDakota."

There was more silence as Strathmore pondered Susan'swords. "The tracer?" He seemed confused. "Itfingered Hale?"

"The tracer isn't back yet. Hale aborted it!"

Susan went on to explain how Hale had stopped her tracer and howshe'd found E- mail from Tankado in Hale's account.Another long moment of silence followed.

Strathmore shook his headin disbelief.

"There's no way Greg Hale is Tankado'sinsurance! It's absurd! Tankado would never trustHale." "Commander," she said, "Hale sank us oncebefore-Skipjack. Tankado trusted him."

Strathmore could not seem to find words.

"Abort TRANSLTR," Susan begged him. "We'vegot North Dakota. Call building security. Let's get out ofhere."

Strathmore held up his hand requesting a moment to think.

Susan looked nervously in the direction of the trapdoor. Theopening was just out of sight behind TRANSLTR, but the reddish glowspilled out over the black tile like fire on ice. Come on, callSecurity, Commander! Abort TRANSLTR! Get us out of here!

Suddenly Strathmore sprang to action. "Follow me," hesaid. He strode toward the trapdoor.

"Commander! Hale is dangerous! He-"

But Strathmore disappeared into the dark. Susan hurried tofollow his silhouette. The commander circled around TRANSLTR andarrived over the opening in the floor. He peered into the swirling,steaming pit. Silently he looked around the darkened Crypto floor.Then he bent down and heaved the heavy trapdoor. It swung in a lowarc. When he let go, it slammed shut with a deadening thud. Cryptowas once again a silent, blackened cave. It appeared North Dakotawas trapped.

Strathmore knelt down. He turned the heavy b.u.t.terfly lock. Itspun into place. The sublevels were sealed.

Neither he nor Susan heard the faint steps in the direction ofNode 3.

CHAPTER 60

Two-tone headed through the mirrored corridor that led from theoutside patio to the dance floor. As he turned to check his safetypin in the reflection, he sensed a figure looming up behind him. Hespun, but it was too late. A pair of rocklike arms pinned his bodyface-first against the gla.s.s.

The punk tried to twist around. "Eduardo? Hey, man, is thatyou?" Two-Tone felt a hand brush over his wallet before thefigure leaned firmly into his back. "Eddie!" the punkcried. "Quit fooling around! Some guy was lookin' forMegan." The figure held him firmly.

"Hey, Eddie, man, cut it out!" But when Two-Tonelooked up into the mirror, he saw the figure pinning him was nothis friend at all.

The face was pockmarked and scarred. Two lifeless eyes staredout like coal from behind wire-rim gla.s.ses. The man leaned forward,placing his mouth against Two- Tone's ear. A strange, voicechoked, "Adonde fue? Where'd hego?" The words sounded somehow misshapen.

The punk froze, paralyzed with fear.

"Adonde fue?" the voice repeated."El Americano."

"The ... the airport. Aeropuerto," Two-Tonestammered.

"Aeropuerto?" the man repeated, his dark eyes watchingTwo-Tone's lips in the mirror.

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 m.u.f.fled voice demanded.

Two-Tone nodded affirmatively, hoping honesty would pay. It didnot. Seconds later he slid to the floor, his neck broken.

CHAPTER 61

Jabba lay on his back lodged halfway inside a dismantledmainframe computer. There was a penlight in his mouth, a solderingiron in his hand, and a large schematic blueprint propped on hisbelly. He had just finished attaching a new set of attenuators to afaulty motherboard when his cellular phone sprang to life. "s.h.i.t," he swore, groping for the receiver through apile of cables. "Jabba here."

"Jabba, it's Midge."

He brightened. "Twice in one night? People are gonna starttalking."

"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 backto his schematic.

"Pitch black!" she yelled.

Jabba sighed and set down his penlight. "Midge, first ofall, we've got aux power in there. It would never be pitch black. Second, Strathmore's got a slightly betterview of Crypto than I do right now. Why don't you call him?"

"Because this has to do with him. He's hidingsomething."

Jabba rolled his eyes. "Midge sweetie, I'm up to myarmpits in serial cable here. If you need a date, I'll cutloose. Otherwise, call Engineering."

"Jabba, this is serious. I can feelit."

She can feel it? It was official, Jabba thought, Midgewas in one of her moods. "If Strathmore's notworried, I'm not worried."