"Don't bother," Susan said in a whisper."Tankado's dead."

After a moment of confused astonishment, the implications. .h.i.tJabba like a bullet to the gut. The huge Sys-Sec looked like he wasabout to crumble. "Dead? But then ...

that means . .. we can't ..."

"That means we'll need a new plan," Fontaine saidmatter-of-factly.

Jabba's eyes were still glazed with shock when someone inthe back of the room began shouting wildly.

"Jabba! Jabba!"

It was Soshi Kuta, his head techie. She came running toward thepodium trailing a long printout. She looked terrified.

"Jabba!" She gasped. "The worm ... I just foundout what it's programmed to do!"

Soshi thrust the paperinto Jabba's hands. "I pulled this from thesystem-activity probe!

We isolated the worm's executecommands-have a look at the programming! Look what it'splanning to do!"

Dazed, the chief Sys-Sec read the printout. Then he grabbed thehandrail for support.

"Oh, Jesus," Jabba gasped. "Tankado ... you b.a.s.t.a.r.d!"

CHAPTER 110 Jabba stared blankly at the printout Soshi had just handed him.Pale, he wiped his forehead on his sleeve. "Director, we haveno choice. We've got to kill power to the databank."

"Unacceptable," Fontaine replied. "The resultswould be devastating."

Jabba knew the director was right. There were over threethousand ISDN connections tying into the NSA databank from all overthe world. Every day military commanders accessed up-to-the-instantsatellite photos of enemy movement. Lockheed engineers downloadedcompartmentalized blueprints of new weaponry. Field operativesaccessed mission updates. The NSA databank was the backbone ofthousands of U.S.

government operations. Shutting it down withoutwarning would cause life-and-death intelligence blackouts all overthe globe.

"I'm aware of the implications, sir," Jabba said,"but we have no choice."

"Explain yourself," Fontaine ordered. He shot a quickglance at Susan standing beside him on the podium. She seemed milesaway.

Jabba took a deep breath and wiped his brow again. From the lookon his face, it was clear to the group on the podium that they werenot going to like what he had to say.

"This worm," Jabba began. "This worm is not anordinary degenerative cycle. It's a selective cycle. Inother words, it's a worm with taste."

Brinkerhoff opened his mouth to speak, but Fontaine waved himoff.

"Most destructive applications wipe a databank clean,"Jabba continued, "but this one is more complex. It deletesonly those files that fall within certain parameters."

"You mean it won't attack the wholedatabank?" Brinkerhoff asked hopefully. "That's good, right?"

"No!" Jabba exploded. "It's bad! It'svery f.u.c.king bad!"

"Cool it!" Fontaine ordered. "What parameters isthis worm looking for? Military?

Covert ops?"

Jabba shook his head. He eyed Susan, who was still distant, andthen Jabba's eyes rose to meet the director's. "Sir,as you know, anyone who wants to tie into this databank from theoutside has to pa.s.s a series of security gates before they'readmitted."

Fontaine nodded. The databank's access hierarchies werebrilliantly conceived; authorized personnel could dial in via theInternet and World Wide Web. Depending on their authorizationsequence, they were permitted access to their own compartmentalizedzones. "Because we're tied to the global Internet,"Jabba explained, "hackers, foreign governments, and EFF sharkscircle this databank twenty-four hours a day and try to breakin."

"Yes," Fontaine said, "and twenty-four hours aday, our security filters keep them out.

What's yourpoint?"

Jabba gazed down at the printout. "My point is this.Tankado's worm is not targeting our data." Hecleared his throat. "It's targeting our securityfilters."

Fontaine blanched. Apparently he understood theimplications-this worm was targeting the filters that kept theNSA databank confidential. Without filters, all of the informationin the databank would become accessible to everyone on theoutside.

"We need to shut down," Jabba repeated. "In aboutan hour, every third grader with a modem is going to have top U.S.security clearance."

Fontaine stood a long moment without saying a word.

Jabba waited impatiently and finally turned to Soshi."Soshi! VR! NOW!"

Soshi dashed off.

Jabba relied on VR often. In most computer circles, VR meant"virtual reality," but at the NSA it meant vis-rep-visual representation. In a world full oftechnicians and politicians all having different levels oftechnical understanding, a graphic representation was often theonly way to make a point; a single plummeting graph usually arousedten times the reaction inspired by volumes of spreadsheets. Jabbaknew a VR of the current crisis would make its point instantly.

"VR!" Soshi yelled from a terminal at the back of theroom.

A computer-generated diagram flashed to life on the wall beforethem. Susan gazed up absently, detached from the madness aroundher. Everyone in the room followed Jabba's gaze to thescreen.

The diagram before them resembled a bull's-eye. In thecenter was a red circle marked data. Around the center were fiveconcentric circles of differing thickness and color.

The outermostcircle was faded, almost transparent.

"We've got a five-tier level of defense," Jabbaexplained. "A primary Bastion Host, two sets of packet filtersfor FTP and X-eleven, a tunnel block, and finally a PEM- basedauthorization window right off the Truffle project. The outsideshield that's disappearing represents the exposed host.It's practically gone. Within the hour, all five shields willfollow. After that, the world pours in. Every byte of NSA databecomes public domain."

Fontaine studied the VR, his eyes smoldering. Brinkerhoff let out a weak whimper. "This worm can open ourdatabank to the world?"

"Child's play for Tankado," Jabba snapped."Gauntlet was our fail-safe. Strathmore blew it."

"It's an act of war," Fontaine whispered, an edgein his voice.

Jabba shook his head. "I really doubt Tankado ever meantfor it to go this far. I suspect he intended to be around to stopit."

Fontaine gazed up at the screen and watched the first of thefive walls disappear entirely.

"Bastion Host is toast!" a technician yelled from theback of the room. "Second shield's exposed!"

"We've got to start shutting down," Jabba urged."From the looks of the VR, we've got about forty-fiveminutes. Shutdown is a complex process."

It was true. The NSA databank had been constructed in such a wayas to ensure it would never lose power-accidentally or ifattacked. Multiple fail-safes for phone and power were buried inreinforced steel canisters deep underground, and in addition to thefeeds from within the NSA complex, there were multiple backups offmain public grids. Shutting down involved a complex series ofconfirmations and protocols- significantly more complicatedthan the average nuclear submarine missile launch.

"We have time," Jabba said, "if we hurry. Manualshutdown should take about thirty minutes."

Fontaine continued staring up at the VR, apparently ponderinghis options.

"Director!" Jabba exploded. "When these firewallsfall, every user on the planet will be issued top-securityclearance! And I'm talking upper level! Records ofcovert ops!

Overseas agents! Names and locations of everyone in thefederal witness protection program! Launch code confirmations! Wemust shut down! Now!"

The director seemed unmoved. "There must be some otherway."

"Yes," Jabba spat, "there is! The kill-code! b.u.t.the only guy who knows it happens to be dead!"

"How about brute force?" Brinkerhoff blurted."Can we guess the kill-code?"

Jabba threw up his arms. "For Christ sake! Kill-codes arelike encryption keys- random! Impossible to guess! If you thinkyou can type 600 trillion entries in the next forty-five minutes,be my guest!"

"The kill-code's in Spain," Susan offeredweakly. Everyone on the podium turned. It was the first thing she hadsaid in a long time.

Susan looked up, bleary-eyed. "Tankado gave it away when hedied."

Everyone looked lost.

"The pa.s.s-key ..." Susan shivered as she spoke."Commander Strathmore sent someone to find it."

"And?" Jabba demanded. "Did Strathmore's manfind it?"

Susan tried to fight it, but the tears began to flow."Yes," she choked. "I think so."

CHAPTER 111

An earsplitting yell cut through the control room. "Sharks!" It was Soshi.

Jabba spun toward the VR. Two thin lines had appeared outsidethe concentric circles.

They looked like sperm trying to breach areluctant egg.

"Blood's in the water, folks!" Jabba turned backto the director. "I need a decision.

Either we start shuttingdown, or we'll never make it. As soon as these two intruderssee the Bastion Host is down, they'll send up a warcry."

Fontaine did not respond. He was deep in thought. SusanFletcher's news of the pa.s.s- key in Spain seemed promising tohim. He shot a glance toward Susan in the back of the room. Sheappeared to be in her own world, collapsed in a chair, her headburied in her hands. Fontaine was unsure exactly what had triggeredthe reaction, but whatever it was, he had no time for it now.

"I need a decision!" Jabba demanded."Now!"

Fontaine looked up. He spoke calmly. "Okay, you've gotone. We are not shutting down. We're going towait."

Jabba's jaw dropped. "What? b.u.t.that's-"

"A gamble," Fontaine interrupted. "A gamble wejust might win." He took Jabba's cellular and punched afew keys. "Midge," he said. "It's LelandFontaine. Listen carefully... ."

Chapter 112

"You better know what the h.e.l.l you're doing,Director," Jabba hissed. "We're about to loseshut-down capability."

Fontaine did not respond.

As if on cue, the door at the back of the control room opened,and Midge came dashing in. She arrived breathless at the podium."Director! The switchboard is patching it through rightnow!"

Fontaine turned expectantly toward the screen on the front wall.Fifteen seconds later the screen crackled to life.

The image on screen was snowy and stilted at first, andgradually grew sharper. It was a QuickTime digitaltransmission-only five frames per second. The image revealedtwo men. One was pale with a buzz cut, the other a blondall-American. They were seated facing the camera like twonewscasters waiting to go on the air.

"What the h.e.l.l is this?" Jabba demanded.

"Sit tight," Fontaine ordered.

The men appeared to be inside a van of some sort. Electroniccabling hung all around them. The audio connection crackled tolife. Suddenly there was background noise.

"Inbound audio," a technician called from behind them."Five seconds till two-way."

"Who are they?" Brinkerhoff asked, uneasily.

"Eye in the sky," Fontaine replied, gazing up at thetwo men he had sent to Spain. It had been a necessary precaution.Fontaine had believed in almost every aspect of Strathmore'splan-the regrettable but necessary removal of Ensei Tankado,rewriting Digital Fortress-it was all solid. But there was onething that made Fontaine nervous: the use of Hulohot. Hulohot wa.s.skilled, but he was a mercenary. Was he trustworthy?

Would he takethe pa.s.s-key for himself? Fontaine wanted Hulohot covered, just incase, and he had taken the requisite measures.