- •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
Chapter 126
“One minute!”
Jabba eyed the VR. “PEM authorization’s going fast. Last line of defense. And there’s a crowd at the door.”
“Focus!” Fontaine commanded.
Soshi sat in front of the Web browser and read aloud. . .Nagasaki bomb did not use plutonium but rather an artificially manufactured, neutron‑saturated isotope of uranium 238.”
“Damn!” Brinkerhoff swore. “Both bombs used uranium. The elements responsible for Hiroshima and Nagasaki were both uranium. There is no difference!”
“We’re dead,” Midge moaned.
“Wait,” Susan said. “Read that last part again!”
Soshi repeated the text. “. . .artificially manufactured, neutron‑saturated isotope of uranium 238.”
“238?” Susan exclaimed. “Didn’t we just see something that said Hiroshima’s bomb used some other isotope of uranium?”
They all exchanged puzzled glances. Soshi frantically scrolled backward and found the spot. “Yes! It says here that the Hiroshima bomb used a different isotope of uranium!”
Midge gasped in amazement. “They’re both uranium‑but they’re different kinds!”
“Both uranium?” Jabba muscled in and stared at the terminal. “Apples and apples! Perfect!”
“How are the two isotopes different?” Fontaine demanded. “It’s got to be something basic.”
Soshi scrolled through the document. “Hold on . . . looking . . . okay . . .”
“Forty‑five seconds!” a voice called out.
Susan looked up. The final shield was almost invisible now.
“Here it is!” Soshi exclaimed.
“Read it!” Jabba was sweating. “What’s the difference! There must be some difference between the two!”
“Yes!” Soshi pointed to her monitor. “Look!”
They all read the text: . . .two bombs employed two different fuels . . . precisely identical chemical characteristics. No ordinary chemical extraction can separate the two isotopes. They are, with the exception of minute differences in weight, perfectly identical.
“Atomic weight!” Jabba said, excitedly. “That’s it! The only difference is their weights! That’s the key! Give me their weights! We’ll subtract them!”
“Hold on,” Soshi said, scrolling ahead. “Almost there! Yes!” Everyone scanned the text. . .difference in weight very slight . . .gaseous diffusion to separate them . . .10,032498X10?134 as compared to 19,39484X10?23.** “There they are!” Jabba screamed. “That’s it! Those are the weights!”
“Thirty seconds!”
“Go,” Fontaine whispered. “Subtract them. Quickly.”
Jabba palmed his calculator and started entering numbers.
“What’s the asterisk?” Susan demanded. “There’s an asterisk after the figures!”
Jabba ignored her. He was already working his calculator keys furiously.
“Careful!” Soshi urged. “We need an exact figure.”
“The asterisk,” Susan repeated. “There’s a footnote.”
Soshi clicked to the bottom of the paragraph.
Susan read the asterisked footnote. She went white. “Oh . . . dear God.”
Jabba looked up. “What?”
They all leaned in, and there was a communal sigh of defeat. The tiny footnote read: **12% margin of error. Published figures vary from lab to lab.
Chapter 127
There was a sudden and reverent silence among the group on the podium. It was as if they were watching an eclipse or volcanic eruption‑an incredible chain of events over which they had no control. Time seemed to slow to a crawl.
“We’re losing it!” a technician cried. “Tie‑ins! All lines!”
On the far‑left screen, David and Agents Smith and Coliander stared blankly into their camera. On the VR, the final fire wall was only a sliver. A mass of blackness surrounded it, hundreds of lines waiting to tie in. To the right of that was Tankado. The stilted clips of his final moments ran by in an endless loop. The look of desperation‑fingers stretched outward, the ring glistening in the sun.
Susan watched the clip as it went in and out of focus. She stared at Tankado’s eyes‑they seemed filled with regret. He never wanted it to go this far, she told herself. He wanted to save us. And yet, over and over, Tankado held his fingers outward, forcing the ring in front of people’s eyes. He was trying to speak but could not. He just kept thrusting his fingers forward.
In Seville, Becker’s mind still turned it over and over. He mumbled to himself, “What did they say those two isotopes were? U238 and U . . . ?” He sighed heavily‑it didn’t matter. He was a language teacher, not a physicist.
“Incoming lines preparing to authenticate!”
“Jesus!” Jabba bellowed in frustration. “How do the damn isotopes differ? Nobody knows how the hell they’re different?!” There was no response. The room full of technicians stood helplessly watching the VR. Jabba spun back to the monitor and threw up his arms. “Where’s a nuclear fucking physicist when you need one!”
* * *
Susan stared up at the QuickTime clip on the wall screen and knew it was over. In slow motion, she watched Tankado dying over and over. He was trying to speak, choking on his words, holding out his deformed hand . . . trying to communicate something. He was trying to save the databank, Susan told herself. But we’ll never know how.
“Company at the door!”
Jabba stared at the screen. “Here we go!” Sweat poured down his face.
On the center screen, the final wisp of the last firewall had all but disappeared. The black mass of lines surrounding the core was opaque and pulsating. Midge turned away. Fontaine stood rigid, eyes front. Brinkerhoff looked like he was about to get sick.
“Ten seconds!”
Susan’s eyes never left Tankado’s image. The desperation. The regret. His hand reached out, over and over, ring glistening, deformed fingers arched crookedly in stranger’s faces. He’s telling them something. What is it?
On the screen overhead, David looked deep in thought. “Difference,” he kept muttering to himself. “Difference between U238 and U235. It’s got to be something simple.”
A technician began the countdown. “Five! Four! Three!”
The word made it to Spain in just under a tenth of a second. Three . . . three.
It was as if David Becker had been hit by the stun gun all over again. His world slowed to stop. Three . . . three . . . three. 238 minus 235! The difference is three! In slow motion, he reached for the microphone . . .
At that very instant, Susan was staring at Tankado’s outstretched hand. Suddenly, she saw past the ring . . . past the engraved gold to the flesh beneath . . . to his fingers. Three fingers. It was not the ring at all. It was the flesh. Tankado was not telling them, he was showing them. He was telling his secret, revealing the kill‑code‑begging someone to understand . . . praying his secret would find its way to the NSA in time.
“Three,” Susan whispered, stunned.
“Three!” Becker yelled from Spain.
But in the chaos, no one seemed to hear.
“We’re down!” a technician yelled.
The VR began flashing wildly as the core succumbed to a deluge. Sirens erupted overhead.
“Outbound data!”
“High‑speed tie‑ins in all sectors!”
Susan moved as if through a dream. She spun toward Jabba’s keyboard. As she turned, her gaze fixed on her fiance, David Becker. Again his voice exploded overhead.
“Three! The difference between 235 and 238 is three!”
Everyone in the room looked up.
“Three!” Susan shouted over the deafening cacophony of sirens and technicians. She pointed to the screen. All eyes followed, to Tankado’s hand, outstretched, three fingers waving desperately in the Sevillian sun.
Jabba went rigid. “Oh my God!” He suddenly realized the crippled genius had been giving them the answer all the time.
“Three’s prime!” Soshi blurted. “Three’s a prime number!”
Fontaine looked dazed. “Can it be that simple?”
“Outbound data!” a technician cried. “It’s going fast!”
Everyone on the podium dove for the terminal at the same instant‑a mass of outstretched hands. But through the crowd, Susan, like a shortstop stabbing a line drive, connected with her target. She typed the number 3. Everyone wheeled to the wall screen. Above the chaos, it simply read.