Chapter 33

Tokugen Numataka stared out his window and paced like a caged animal. He had not yet heard from his contact, North Dakota. Damn Americans! No sense of punctuality!

He would have called North Dakota himself, but he didn’t have a phone number for him. Numataka hated doing business this way‑with someone else in control.

The thought had crossed Numataka’s mind from the beginning that the calls from North Dakota could be a hoax‑a Japanese competitor playing him for the fool. Now the old doubts were coming back. Numataka decided he needed more information.

He burst from his office and took a left down Numatech’s main hallway. His employees bowed reverently as he stormed past. Numataka knew better than to believe they actually loved him‑bowing was a courtesy Japanese employees offered even the most ruthless of bosses.

Numataka went directly to the company’s main switchboard. All calls were handled by a single operator on a Corenco 2000, twelve‑line switchboard terminal. The woman was busy but stood and bowed as Numataka entered.

“Sit down,” he snapped.

She obeyed.

“I received a call at four forty‑five on my personal line today. Can you tell me where it came from?” Numataka kicked himself for not having done this earlier.

The operator swallowed nervously. “We don’t have caller identification on this machine, sir. But I can contact the phone company. I’m sure they can help.”

Numataka had no doubt the phone company could help. In this digital age, privacy had become a thing of the past; there was a record of everything. Phone companies could tell you exactly who had called you and how long you’d spoken.

“Do it,” he commanded. “Let me know what you find out.”

Chapter 34

Susan sat alone in Node 3, waiting for her tracer. Hale had decided to step outside and get some air‑a decision for which she was grateful. Oddly, however, the solitude in Node 3 provided little asylum. Susan found herself struggling with the new connection between Tankado and Hale.

“Who will guard the guards?” she said to herself. Quis custodiet ipsos custodes. The words kept circling in her head. Susan forced them from her mind.

Her thoughts turned to David, hoping he was all right. She still found it hard to believe he was in Spain. The sooner they found the pass‑keys and ended this, the better.

Susan had lost track of how long she’d been sitting there waiting for her tracer. Two hours? Three? She gazed out at the deserted Crypto floor and wished her terminal would beep. There was only silence. The late‑summer sun had set. Overhead, the automatic fluorescents had kicked on. Susan sensed time was running out.

She looked down at her tracer and frowned. “Come on,” she grumbled. “You’ve had plenty of time.” She palmed her mouse and clicked her way into her tracer’s status window. “How long have you been running, anyway?”

Susan opened the tracer’s status window‑a digital clock much like the one on TRANSLTR; it displayed the hours and minutes her tracer had been running. Susan gazed at the monitor expecting to see a readout of hours and minutes. But she saw something else entirely. What she saw stopped the blood in her veins.