- •Dan Brown Digital Fortress
- •Prologue
- •Chapter 1
- •Chapter 2
- •Chapter 3
- •National security agency (nsa) crypto facility authorized personnel only
- •Hl fkzc vd lds
- •Im glad we met
- •Chapter 4
- •Chapter 5
- •Employee carl austin terminated for inappropriate conduct.
- •Time elapsed: 15:09:33 awaiting key: ________
- •Chapter 6
- •Chapter 7
- •“Transltr?”
- •Chapter 8
- •Keep the change.
- •Chapter 9
- •Time elapsed: 15:17:21
- •Chapter 10
- •Chapter 11
- •Chapter 12
- •Chapter 13
- •Chapter 14
- •Chapter 15
- •Chapter 16
- •Chapter 17
- •Chapter 18
- •Chapter 19
- •Chapter 20
- •Chapter 21
- •Chapter 22
- •Chapter 23
- •Chapter 24
- •Chapter 25
- •Subject: p. Cloucharde‑terminated
- •Message sent chapter 26
- •Chapter 27
- •Dinner at alfredo’s? 8 pm?
- •Chapter 28
- •Chapter 29
- •Please accept this humble fax my love for you is without wax.
- •Tracer searching . . .
- •Tracer abort?
- •Chapter 30
- •Chapter 31
- •Chapter 32
- •Chapter 33
- •Chapter 34
- •Tracer aborted
- •Error code 22
- •Chapter 36
- •Tracer sent
- •Search for: “tracer”
- •No matches found
- •Search for: “screenlock”
- •Great progress! digital fortress is almost done. This thing will set the nsa back decades!
- •Rotating cleartext works! mutation strings are the trick!
- •Chapter 37
- •Chapter 38
- •Chapter 39
- •Chapter 40
- •Chapter 41
- •Subject: rocio eva granada‑terminated subject: hans huber‑terminated
- •Chapter 42
- •Chapter 43
- •Crypto‑production/expenditure
- •Chapter 44
- •Chapter 45
- •Chapter 46
- •Chapter 47
- •Chapter 48
- •Chapter 49
- •Chapter 50
- •Crypto sublevels authorized personnel only
- •Chapter 51
- •Chapter 52
- •Chapter 53
- •Chapter 54
- •Chapter 55
- •Chapter 56
- •Chapter 57
- •Chapter 58
- •Chapter 59
- •Chapter 60
- •Chapter 61
- •Chapter 62
- •Chapter 63
- •Chapter 64
- •Chapter 65
- •Chapter 66
- •Chapter 67
- •Chapter 68
- •Chapter 69
- •Chapter 70
- •Chapter 71
- •Chapter 72
- •Abort run
- •Chapter 73
- •Chapter 74
- •Chapter 75
- •Chapter 76
- •Chapter 77
- •Chapter 78
- •Chapter 79
- •Chapter 80
- •Chapter 81
- •Chapter 82
- •Chapter 83
- •Chapter 84
- •Chapter 85
- •Chapter 86
- •Sorry. Unable to abort. Sorry. Unable to abort. Sorry. Unable to abort.
- •Tell the world about transltr only the truth will save you now . . .
- •Only the truth will save you now
- •Enter pass‑key
- •Chapter 87
- •Chapter 88
- •Chapter 89
- •Chapter 90
- •Chapter 91
- •Chapter 92
- •Chapter 93
- •Chapter 94
- •Chapter 95
- •Chapter 96
- •Chapter 97
- •Chapter 98
- •Chapter 99
- •Chapter 100
- •Subject: david becker‑terminated
- •Chapter 101
- •Chapter 102
- •Chapter 103
- •Chapter 105
- •Chapter 106
- •Chapter 107
- •Chapter 108
- •Chapter 109
- •Only the truth will save you now enter pass‑key ______
- •Only the truth will save you now enter pass‑key ______
- •Chapter 110
- •Chapter 111
- •Chapter 112
- •Chapter 113
- •Chapter 114
- •Chapter 115
- •Chapter 116
- •Chapter 117
- •Only the truth will save you now
- •Chapter 118
- •Quiscustodietipsoscustodes
- •Chapter 119
- •Illegal entry. Numeric field only.
- •Chapter 120
- •Pfee sesn retm
- •Pfee sesn retm mfha irwe ooig meen nrma enet shas dcns iiaa ieer brnk fble lodi
- •Pfeesesnretmpfhairweooigmeennrmaenetshasdcnsiiaaieerbrnkfblelodi
- •Chapter 121
- •Chapter 122
- •Primedifferencebetweenelementsresponsibleforhiroshimaandnagasaki
- •Chapter 123
- •Prime difference between elements responsible for hiroshima and nagasaki
- •Chapter 124
- •Prime difference between elements responsible forhiroshima and nagasaki
- •Chapter 125
- •Chapter 126
- •Chapter 127
- •Enter pass‑key? 3
- •Kill code confirmed.
- •Chapter 128
- •Epilogue
Error code 22
Susan felt a surge of hope. It was good news. The fact that the inquiry had found an error code meant her tracer was fine. The trace had apparently aborted due to an external anomaly that was unlikely to repeat itself.
Error code 22. Susan racked her memory trying to remember what code 22 stood for. Hardware failures were so rare in Node 3 that she couldn’t remember the numerical codings.
Susan flipped through the SYS‑OP manual, scanning the list of error codes.
19: CORRUPT HARD PARTITION
20: DC SPIKE
21: MEDIA FAILURE
When she reached number 22, she stopped and stared a long moment. Baffled, she double‑checked her monitor.
ERROR CODE 22
Susan frowned and returned to the SYS‑OP manual. What she saw made no sense. The explanation simply read:
22: MANUAL ABORT
CHAPTER 35
Becker stared in shock at Rocio. “You sold the ring?”
The woman nodded, her silky red hair falling around her shoulders.
Becker willed it not to be true. “Pero . . . but . . .”
She shrugged and said in Spanish, “A girl near the park.”
Becker felt his legs go weak. This can’t be!
Rocio smiled coyly and motioned to the German. “El queria que lo guardara. He wanted to keep it, but I told him no. I’ve got Gitana blood in me, Gypsy blood; we Gitanas, in addition to having red hair, are very superstitious. A ring offered by a dying man is not a good sign.”
“Did you know the girl?” Becker interrogated.
Rocio arched her eyebrows. “Vaya. You really want this ring, don’t you?”
Becker nodded sternly. “Who did you sell it to?”
The enormous German sat bewildered on the bed. His romantic evening was being ruined, and he apparently had no idea why. “Was passiert?” he asked nervously. “What’s happening?”
Becker ignored him.
“I didn’t actually sell it,” Rocio said. “I tried to, but she was just a kid and had no money. I ended up giving it to her. Had I known about your generous offer, I would have saved it for you.”
“Why did you leave the park?” Becker demanded. “Somebody had died. Why didn’t you wait for the police? And give them the ring?”
“I solicit many things, Mr. Becker, but trouble is not one of them. Besides, that old man seemed to have things under control.”
“The Canadian?”
“Yes, he called the ambulance. We decided to leave. I saw no reason to involve my date or myself with the police.”
Becker nodded absently. He was still trying to accept this cruel twist of fate. She gave the damn thing away!
“I tried to help the dying man,” Rocio explained. “But he didn’t seem to want it. He started with the ring‑kept pushing it in our faces. He had these three crippled fingers sticking up. He kept pushing his hand at us‑like we were supposed to take the ring. I didn’t want to, but my friend here finally did. Then the guy died.”
“And you tried CPR?” Becker guessed.
“No. We didn’t touch him. My friend got scared. He’s big, but he’s a wimp.” She smiled seductively at Becker. “Don’t worry‑he can’t speak a word of Spanish.”
Becker frowned. He was wondering again about the bruises on Tankado’s chest. “Did the paramedics give CPR?”
“I have no idea. As I told you, we left before they arrived.”
“You mean after you stole the ring.” Becker scowled.
Rocio glared at him. “We did not steal the ring. The man was dying. His intentions were clear. We gave him his last wish.”
Becker softened. Rocio was right; he probably would have done the same damn thing. “But then you gave the ring to some girl?”
“I told you. The ring made me nervous. The girl had lots of jewelry on. I thought she might like it.”
“And she didn’t think it was strange? That you’d just give her a ring?”
“No. I told her I found it in the park. I thought she might offer to pay me for it, but she didn’t. I didn’t care. I just wanted to get rid of it.”
“When did you give it to her?”
Rocio shrugged. “This afternoon. About an hour after I got it.”
Becker checked his watch: 11:48 p.m. The trail was eight hours old. What the hell am I doing here? I’m supposed to be in the Smokys. He sighed and asked the only question he could think of. “What did the girl look like?”
“Era un punki,” Rocio replied.
Becker looked up, puzzled. “Un punki?”
“Si. Punki.”
“A punk?”
“Yes, a punk,” she said in rough English, and then immediately switched back to Spanish. “Mucha joyeria. Lots of jewelry. A weird pendant in one ear. A skull, I think.”
“There are punk rockers in Seville?”
Rocio smiled. “Todo bajo el sol. Everything under the sun.” It was the motto of Seville’s Tourism Bureau.
“Did she give you her name?”
“No.”
“Did she say where she was going?”
“No. Her Spanish was poor.”
“She wasn’t Spanish?” Becker asked.
“No. She was English, I think. She had wild hair‑red, white, and blue.”
Becker winced at the bizarre image. “Maybe she was American,” he offered.
“I don’t think so,” Rocio said. “She was wearing a T‑shirt that looked like the British flag.”
Becker nodded dumbly. “Okay. Red, white, and blue hair, a British flag T‑shirt, a skull pendant in her ear. What else?”
“Nothing. Just your average punk.”
Average punk? Becker was from a world of collegiate sweatshirts and conservative haircuts‑he couldn’t even picture what the woman was talking about. “Can you think of anything else at all?” he pressed.
Rocio thought a moment. “No. That’s it.”
Just then the bed creaked loudly. Rocio’s client shifted his weight uncomfortably. Becker turned to him and spoke influent German. “Noch et was? Anything else? Anything to help me find the punk rocker with the ring?”
There was a long silence. It was as if the giant man had something he wanted to say, but he wasn’t sure how to say it. His lower lip quivered momentarily, there was a pause, and then he spoke. The four words that came out were definitely English, but they were barely intelligible beneath his thick German accent. “Fock off und die.”
Becker gaped in shock. “I beg your pardon?
“Fock off und die,” the man repeated, patting his left palm against his fleshy right forearm‑a crude approximation of the Italian gesture for “fuck you.”
Becker was too drained to be offended. Fuck off and die? What happened to Das Wimp? He turned back to Rocio and spoke in Spanish. “Sounds like I’ve overstayed my welcome.”
“Don’t worry about him.” She laughed. “He’s just a little frustrated. He’ll get what’s coming to him.” She tossed her hair and winked.
“Is there anything else?” Becker asked. “Anything you can tell me that might help?”
Rocio shook her head. “That’s all. But you’ll never find her. Seville is a big city‑it can be very deceptive.”
“I’ll do the best I can.” It’s a matter of national security . . .
“If you have no luck,” Rocio said, eyeing the bulging envelope in Becker’s pocket, “please stop back. My friend will be sleeping, no doubt. Knock quietly. I’ll find us an extra room. You’ll see a side of Spain you’ll never forget.” She pouted lusciously.
Becker forced a polite smile. “I should be going.” He apologized to the German for interrupting his evening.
The giant smiled timidly. “Keine Ursache.”
Becker headed out the door. No problem? Whatever happened to “Fuck off and die"?