- •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
Enter pass‑key? 3
“Yes!” Fontaine commanded. “Do it now!”
Susan held her breath and lowered her finger on the ENTER key. The computer beeped once.
Nobody moved.
Three agonizing seconds later, nothing had happened.
The sirens kept going. Five seconds. Six seconds.
“Outbound data!”
“No change!”
Suddenly Midge began pointing wildly to the screen above. “Look!”
On it, a message had materialized.
Kill code confirmed.
“Upload the firewalls!” Jabba ordered.
But Soshi was a step ahead of him. She had already sent the command.
“Outbound interrupt!” a technician yelled.
“Tie‑ins severed!”
On the VR overhead, the first of the five firewalls began reappearing. The black lines attacking the core were instantly severed.
“Reinstating!” Jabba cried. “The damn thing’s reinstating!”
There was a moment of tentative disbelief, as if at any instant, everything would fall apart. But then the second firewall began reappearing . . . and then the third. Moments later the entire series of filters reappeared. The databank was secure.
The room erupted. Pandemonium. Technicians hugged, tossing computer printouts in the air in celebration. Sirens wound down. Brinkerhoff grabbed Midge and held on. Soshi burst into tears.
“Jabba,” Fontaine demanded. “How much did they get?”
“Very little,” Jabba said, studying his monitor. “Very little. And nothing complete.”
Fontaine nodded slowly, a wry smile forming in the corner of his mouth. He looked around for Susan Fletcher, but she was already walking toward the front of the room. On the wall before her, David Becker’s face filled the screen.
“David?”
“Hey, gorgeous.” He smiled.
“Come home,” she said. “Come home, right now.”
“Meet you at Stone Manor?” he asked.
She nodded, the tears welling. “Deal.”
“Agent Smith?” Fontaine called.
Smith appeared onscreen behind Becker. “Yes, sir?”
“It appears Mr. Becker has a date. Could you see that he gets home immediately?”
Smith nodded. “Our jet’s in Malaga.” He patted Becker on the back. “You’re in for a treat, Professor. Ever flown in a Learjet 60?”
Becker chuckled. “Not since yesterday.”
Chapter 128
When Susan awoke, the sun was shining. the soft rays sifted through the curtains and filtered across her goosedown feather bed. She reached for David. Am I dreaming? Her body remained motionless, spent, still dizzy from the night before.
“David?” She moaned.
There was no reply. She opened her eyes, her skin still tingling. The mattress on the other side of the bed was cold. David was gone.
I’m dreaming, Susan thought. She sat up. The room was Victorian, all lace and antiques‑Stone Manor’s finest suite. Her overnight bag was in the middle of the hardwood floor . . . her lingerie on a Queen Anne chair beside the bed.
Had David really arrived? She had memories‑his body against hers, his waking her with soft kisses. Had she dreamed it all? She turned to the bedside table. There was an empty bottle of champagne, two glasses . . . and a note.
Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, Susan drew the comforter around her naked body and read the message.
Dearest Susan,
I love you.
Without wax, David.
She beamed and pulled the note to her chest. It was David, all right. Without wax . . . it was the one code she had yet to break.
Something stirred in the corner, and Susan looked up. On a plush divan, basking in the morning sun, wrapped in thick bathrobe, David Becker sat quietly watching her. She reached out, beckoning him to come to her.
“Without wax?” she cooed, taking him in her arms.
“Without wax.” He smiled.
She kissed him deeply. “Tell me what it means.”
“No chance.” He laughed. “A couple needs secrets‑it keeps things interesting.”
Susan smiled coyly. “Any more interesting than last night and I’ll never walk again.”
David took her in his arms. He felt weightless. He had almost died yesterday, and yet here he was, as alive as he had ever felt in his life.
Susan lay with her head on his chest, listening to the beat of his heart. She couldn’t believe that she had thought he was gone forever.
“David.” She sighed, eyeing the note beside the table. “Tell me about 'without wax.' You know I hate codes I can’t break.”
David was silent.
“Tell me.” Susan pouted. “Or you’ll never have me again.”
“Liar.”
Susan hit him with a pillow. “Tell me! Now!”
But David knew he would never tell. The secret behind “without wax” was too sweet. Its origins were ancient. During the Renaissance, Spanish sculptors who made mistakes while carving expensive marble often patched their flaws with cera‑"wax.” A statue that had no flaws and required no patching was hailed as a “sculpture sincera” or a “sculpture without wax.” The phrase eventually came to mean anything honest or true. The English word “sincere” evolved from the Spanish sincera‑"without wax.” David’s secret code was no great mystery‑he was simply signing his letters “Sincerely.” Somehow he suspected Susan would not be amused.
“You’ll be pleased to know,” David said, attempting to change the subject, “that during the flight home, I called the president of the university.”
Susan looked up, hopeful. “Tell me you resigned as department chair.”
David nodded. “I’ll be back in the classroom next semester.”
She sighed in relief. “Right where you belonged in the first place.”
David smiled softly. “Yeah, I guess Spain reminded me what’s important.”
“Back to breaking coeds’ hearts?” Susan kissed his cheek. “Well, at least you’ll have time to help me edit my manuscript.”
“Manuscript?”
“Yes. I’ve decided to publish.”
“Publish?” David looked doubtful. “Publish what?”
“Some ideas I have on variant filter protocols and quadratic residues.”
He groaned. “Sounds like a real best‑seller.”
She laughed. “You’d be surprised.”
David fished inside the pocket of his bathrobe and pulled out a small object. “Close your eyes. I have something for you.”
Susan closed her eyes. “Let me guess‑a gaudy gold ring with Latin all over it?”
“No.” David chuckled. “I had Fontaine return that to Ensei Tankado’s estate.” He took Susan’s hand and slipped something onto her finger.
“Liar.” Susan laughed, opening her eyes. “I knew—”
But Susan stopped short. The ring on her finger was not Tankado’s at all. It was a platinum setting that held a glittering diamond solitaire.
Susan gasped.
David looked her in the eye. “Will you marry me?”
Susan’s breath caught in her throat. She looked at him and then back to the ring. Her eyes suddenly welled up. “Oh, David . . . I don’t know what to say.”
“Say yes.”
Susan turned away and didn’t say a word.
David waited. “Susan Fletcher, I love you. Marry me.”
Susan lifted her head. Her eyes were filled with tears. “I’m sorry, David,” she whispered. “I . . . I can’t.”
David stared in shock. He searched her eyes for the playful glimmer he’d come to expect from her. It wasn’t there. “S‑Susan,” he stammered. “I‑I don’t understand.”
“I can’t,” she repeated. “I can’t marry you.” She turned away. Her shoulders started trembling. She covered her face with her hands.
David was bewildered. “But, Susan . . . I thought . . .” He held her trembling shoulders and turned her body toward him. It was then that he understood. Susan Fletcher was not crying at all; she was in hysterics.
“I won’t marry you!” She laughed, attacking again with the pillow. “Not until you explain ‘without wax’! You’re driving me crazy!”